The traders who were making the world smaller by bringing cotton
prints to Chinde to cover her black nakedness, her British Majesty's
consul at that port, and the boy lieutenant of the paddle-wheeled
gunboat which patrols the Zambesi River, were the gentlemen who
informed me that they were the only respectable members of Chinde
society. They came over the side with the gratitude of sailors whom
the _Kanzlar_ might have picked up from a desert island, where they
had been marooned and left to rot. They observed the gilded glory of
the _Kanzlar_ smoking-room, its mirrors and marble-topped tables,
with the satisfaction and awe of the California miner, who found all
the elegance of civilization in the red plush of a Broadway omnibus.
The boy-commander of the gunboat gazed at white women in the saloon
with fascinated admiration.
"I have never," he declared, breathlessly, "I have never seen so
many beautiful women in one place at the same time! I'd forgotten
that there were so many white people in the world."
"If I stay on board this ship another minute I shall go home," said
Her Majesty's consul, firmly. "You will have to hold me. It's coming
over me--I feel it coming. I shall never have the strength to go
back." He appealed to the sympathetic lieutenant. "Let's desert
together," he begged.
[Illustration: One-half of the Street Cleaning Department of
Mozambique.]
In the swamps of the East Coast the white exiles lay aside the
cloaks and masks of crowded cities.
Pages:
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149