The noble bosom of the strait bore several dhows speeding in and out of the bay of Zanzibar with bellying sails.  Towards the south, above the sea line of the horizon, there appeared the naked masts of several large ships, and to the east of these a dense mass of white, flat-topped houses.  This was Zanzibar, the capital of the island;—­which soon resolved itself into a pretty large and compact city, with all the characteristics of Arab architecture.  Above some of the largest houses lining the bay front of the city streamed the blood-red banner of the Sultan, Seyd Burghash, and the flags of the American, English, North German Confederation, and French Consulates.  In the harbor were thirteen large ships, four Zanzibar men-of-war, one English man-of-war—­the `Nymphe,’ two American, one French, one Portuguese, two English, and two German merchantmen, besides numerous dhows hailing from Johanna and Mayotte of the Comoro Islands, dhows from Muscat and Cutch—­traders between India, the Persian Gulf, and Zanzibar.

It was with the spirit of true hospitality and courtesy that Capt.  Francis R. Webb, United States Consul, (formerly of the United States Navy), received me.  Had this gentleman not rendered me such needful service, I must have condescended to take board and lodging at a house known as “Charley’s,” called after the proprietor, a Frenchman, who has won considerable local notoriety for harboring penniless itinerants, and manifesting a kindly spirit always, though hidden under such a rugged front; or I should have been obliged to pitch my double-clothed American drill tent on the sandbeach of this tropical island, which was by no means a desirable thing.

But Capt.  Webb’s opportune proposal to make his commodious and comfortable house my own; to enjoy myself, with the request that I would call for whatever I might require, obviated all unpleasant alternatives.

One day’s life at Zanzibar made me thoroughly conscious of my ignorance respecting African people and things in general.  I imagined I had read Burton and Speke through, fairly well, and that consequently I had penetrated the meaning, the full importance and grandeur, of the work I was about to be engaged upon.  But my estimates, for instance, based upon book information, were simply ridiculous, fanciful images of African attractions were soon dissipated, anticipated pleasures vanished, and all crude ideas began to resolve themselves into shape.

I strolled through the city.  My general impressions are of crooked, narrow lanes, white-washed houses, mortar-plastered streets, in the clean quarter;—­of seeing alcoves on each side, with deep recesses, with a fore-ground of red-turbaned Banyans, and a back-ground of flimsy cottons, prints, calicoes, domestics and what not; or of floors crowded with ivory tusks; or of dark corners with a pile of unginned and loose cotton; or of stores of crockery, nails, cheap Brummagem ware, tools, &c., in what I call the Banyan quarter;—­of