In their eyes he had performed a feat of
endurance like swimming the English Channel. They crowded to
congratulate him as people at the pit-mouth congratulate the
entombed miner, who, after many days of breathing noisome gases,
drinks the pure air. Even the black boys seem to feel the triumph
of the white master, and their paddles never flashed so bravely, and
their songs never rang so wildly, as when they were racing him away
from the brooding Coast with its poisonous vapors toward the big
white ship that meant health and home.
Although most of the ports we saw only from across a mile or two of
breakers, they always sent us something of interest. Sometimes all
the male passengers came on board drunk. With the miners of the Gold
Coast and the "Palm Oil Ruffians" it used to be a matter of
etiquette not to leave the Coast in any other condition. Not so to
celebrate your escape seemed ungenerous and ungrateful. At Sekondi
one of the miners from Ashanti was so completely drunk, that he was
swung over the side, tied up like a plum-pudding, in a bag.
When he emerged from the bag his expression of polite inquiry was
one with which all could sympathize. To lose consciousness on the
veranda of a cafe, and awake with a bump on the deck of a steamer
many miles at sea, must strengthen one's belief in magic carpets.
Another entertainment for the white passengers was when the boat
boys fought for the black passengers as they were lowered in the
mammy-chair.
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