A.Q.:  “You have been misinformed, noble Hassan.  She will not refit till October.  Shall I read you the letter?” and I produced a piece of paper from my pocket.  “It may be interesting since my friend, the captain, whom you remember is named Flowers, mentions you in it.  He says——­”

Hassan waved his hand.  “It is enough.  I see, honoured lord, that you are a man of mettle not easily to be turned from your purpose.  In the name of God the Compassionate, land and go wheresoever you like.”

A.Q.:  “I think that I had almost rather wait until the Crocodile comes in.”

H.:  “Land!  Land!  Captain Delgado, get up the cargo and man your boat.  Mine too is at the service of these lords.  You, Captain, will like to get away by this night’s tide.  There is still light, Lord Quatermain, and such hospitality as I can offer is at your service.”

A.Q.:  “Ah!  I knew Bey Hassan, that you were only joking with me when you said that you wished us to go elsewhere.  An excellent jest, truly, from one whose hospitality is so famous.  Well, to fall in with your wishes, we will come ashore this evening, and if the Captain Delgado chances to sight the Queen’s ship Crocodile before he sails, perhaps he will be so good as to signal to us with a rocket.”

“Certainly, certainly,” interrupted Delgado, who up to this time had pretended that he understood no English, the tongue in which I was speaking to the interpreter, Sammy.

Then he turned and gave orders to his Arab crew to bring up our belongings from the hold and to lower the Maria’s boat.

Never did I see goods transferred in quicker time.  Within half an hour every one of our packages was off that ship, for Stephen Somers kept a count of them.  Our personal baggage went into the Maria’s boat, and the goods together with the four donkeys which were lowered on to the top of them, were rumbled pell-mell into the barge-like punt belonging to Hassan.  Here also I was accommodated, with about half of our people, the rest taking their seats in the smaller boat under the charge of Stephen.

At length all was ready and we cast off.

“Farewell, Captain,” I cried to Delgado.  “If you should sight the Crocodile——­”

At this point Delgado broke into such a torrent of bad language in Portuguese, Arabic and English that I fear the rest of my remarks never reached him.

As we rowed shorewards I observed that Hans, who was seated near to me under the stomach of a jackass, was engaged in sniffing at the sides and bottom of the barge, as a dog might do, and asked him what he was about.

“Very odd smell in this boat,” he whispered back in Dutch.  “It stinks of Kaffir man, just like the hold of the Maria.  I think this boat is used to carry slaves.”

“Be quiet,” I whispered back, “and stop nosing at those planks.”  But to myself I thought, Hans is right, we are in a nest of slave-traders, and this Hassan is their leader.