It is evident that the slavers were wrong not to keep hulks like those of the Bonny River; health would have gained, and the procedure might have modified negro “sass.”  The chiefs begin early morning by going their rounds for drink, and end business between 7 and 10 A.M.  Everywhere on this coast a few hours of work support a “gentleman;” even the comparatively industrious and hard-working Egbas rarely do anything after noon.  These lords and masters are fully aware that the white men are their willing slaves as long as the large profits last.  If a glass of watered rum, which they detect more easily than we do watered milk, be offered to them, it will be thrown in the donor’s face.  Every factory must keep a barrel of spirits ready broached if the agents would buy eggs and yams, and the poorest negro comes regularly with his garrafa.  The mixed stuff costs per bottle only a hundred reis (= fourpence), and thoroughly demoralizes the black world.

We landed at once, sent our letters to M. Monteiro, who hospitably offered his house, and passed the day quickly enough in a round of visits.  Despite the general politeness and attention to us, we found a gloom overhanging the place:  as at Whydah, its glories have departed, nor shall they ever return.  The jollity, the recklessness, the gold ounces thrown in handfuls upon the monte-table, are things of the past:  several houses are said to be insolvent, and the dearth of cloth is causing actual misery.  Palm and ground-nut oil enable the agents only to buy provisions; the trade is capable of infinite expansion, but it requires time—­as yet it supports only the two non-slaving houses, English and Dutch.  The forty or fifty tons brought in every month pay them cent, per cent.; the bag of half a hundred weight being sold for four fathoms of cloth; or two hatchets, one bottle of rum, and a jug or a plate.

Early next day I went to the English factory for the purpose of completing my outfit.  Unfortunately, Mr. P. Maculloch, the head agent, who is perfectly acquainted with the river and the people, was absent, leaving the business in the hands of two “mean whites,” walking buccras, English pariahs.  The factory—­a dirty disgrace to the name—­was in the charge of a clerk, whom we saw being rowed about bareheaded through the sun, accompanied by a black girl, both as far from sober as might be.  The cooper, who was sitting moony with drink, rose to receive us and to weigh out the beads which I required; under the excitement he had recourse to a gin-bottle, and a total collapse came on before half the work was done.  Why should south latitude 6deg., the parallel of Zanzibar, be so fatal to the Briton?