A couple of days more saw me back at Quittáh with all my plans practically complete, for in the interval I had seen Annan and had settled to meet him at Cape Coast in a month, by which time (the end of September) the rainy season would be fairly over. I had also laid down a general plan of action, but this was of so audacious and extraordinary a character that I did not dare to finally adopt it until I had discussed it with my level-headed friend Pereira.
My reception by that gentleman, on my return, was somewhat of a surprise to me. We had been very friendly together during my stay at his house, and had got on with one another as comfortably as two people well could, but this was all, as far as I knew; so when the old gentleman met me at the compound gate and, seizing both my hands, almost wept over me, I was not a little affected, and for the first time realised how lonely was the life that he led. For Pereira, though only a trader, was in all essentials a gentleman, not only by training and education, but in manners and feeling, and was, moreover, a man of very superior intelligence; and it was easy to understand that he found the society of Quittáh—a handful of German traders and missionaries and a couple of English officials at the fort—neither sufficient nor congenial.
Still, I was a little surprised at the affectionate effusiveness of his manner, and at a certain exhilaration and excitement that he displayed as he fidgetted round while I superintended the unloading of my little caravan.
"Englefield," said he suddenly, as I was rummaging amongst the raffle in my hammock, "I've got something to show you upstairs."
"Curio?" I asked, still groping.
"No, not a curio," he laughed, "certainly not a curio. Something very pretty; it came out from England by the last steamer."
"Indeed? What is it?" I inquired.
"Come up with me and you shall see," said the old man, rubbing his hands and smiling mysteriously.
"I am coming in a moment," I said, "but I can't find my flask. Here you, headman, you look dem small rum bottle?"
"Dis ting he live for hammock," replied the headman, coming forward with the flask in one hand and wiping his mouth with the back of the other. "His lid no good; no fit proper; all de rum fall out."
I snatched the empty flask, and shaking my fist at the grinning barbarian, turned to follow Pereira who had already vanished up the stairs. As I reached the top I saw my host standing, holding the door open, his face wreathed in smiles; and I strode forward with no little curiosity as to the treasure that he had to show me. But at the threshold I fell back in utter amazement, for there advanced to meet me the very handsomest and most stately lady that I had ever seen.
"This is my daughter Isabel," said the beaming Pereira. "Isabel, this is Mr. Englefield."
I am afraid that Miss Pereira's first impression of me could hardly have been a favourable one, for between my astonishment and admiration I could do nothing but stand in the doorway gaping and mumbling like a fool, until I was recalled to consciousness by becoming aware that she had shaken my hand and was speaking to me.
"It seems quite like meeting an old friend," she was saying. "For although I have only been here a week or so, my father has talked so much about you that I seem to have known you for years. I assure you that your manners and customs are as an open book to me."
"I am glad to know that," I replied, "for your worthy father has been pleased to present me at a great disadvantage. On the stage an astonished man may be picturesque and even dignified; in real life he is apt to rather resemble an imbecile."
"There, now," said Miss Pereira, smiling mischievously, "see, my father, to what frightful danger you have exposed Mr. Englefield through your babyish desire to spring a surprise on him. He might have looked like an imbecile. But it wouldn't have mattered," she added thoughtfully. "I should have known it was an optical illusion."
"I am everlastingly obliged to your father," said I, "for having explained my merits so clearly beforehand. Perhaps with the artful aid of a little soap and water I may endeavour to live up to my reputation."
"Yes, a hammock journey does certainly create a necessity for grooming, as I discovered a day or two ago, when I travelled to Amutinu and back. My hair has hardly recovered yet. When I got out of the hammock, it was like a mass of cocoa-nut fibre, and you will hardly believe me, I am sure, when I tell you on my pointing this out to my father, he actually forgot himself so far as to make an unseemly and most obvious joke on the subject. You will find your room as you left it, only, perhaps, a little more tidy. Au revoir," and she curtseyed majestically as I departed, followed by Pereira.
"Well, what do you think of my girl, Englefield?" the old man asked, as he made a pretence of helping me to unpack my portmanteau.
"I think she is an extraordinarily handsome girl," I replied, "and much too good for Quittáh. She is not going to stay here, I suppose?"
"It's not my doing," said Pereira quickly. "I wished her to stay in England, but she had always said she was coming to me and she came. She is a young lady with a will of her own, but she is a really good girl and a most loving and dutiful daughter. You see, she was born out here—I was living at Elmina then—and she stayed with me, after my poor wife died, until she was quite a big girl, getting what education she could from the nuns at Elmina. Then I sent her to a school in England, where she has been ever since, at first as a pupil and then as a governess; but she has always said that she would come and keep house for me when she was grown up and—here she is and here she says she means to stay, so what can I do? After all, I am the only relative she has in the world. But I mustn't stay here chattering to you or we shall both get into trouble."
Left to myself I will not deny that I bestowed an unusual amount of attention upon my toilet, and tested the resources of my very limited outfit to the utmost, even to the extent of putting on a white collar and necktie; and after three separate and fruitless attempts to produce a parting in hair which averaged one-eighth of an inch in length, I made my way back to the sitting-room, where the table was already laid for supper.
My projected discussion with Pereira concerning my journey into the interior was for the time forgotten as I sat at the table facing his daughter, for the beauty of this girl was so remarkable as to entirely absorb my attention. I have said that she was the handsomest woman I had ever seen. My experience of women, beautiful or otherwise, had indeed not been great, but there is a certain degree of beauty which is independent of comparison and which secures instant recognition by all but the most sthetically obtuse.
Of this kind was the beauty of Isabel Pereira. Totally free from the paltry prettiness of the fashion-plate model, entirely without those conventional graces so esteemed by the modiste, she was quite in the "grand style"—a rather large woman, and in spite of the supple grace of youth, showing evidence of muscular strength and physique. In keeping with her splendid proportions was her small and shapely head and her symmetrical face with its firm straight eyebrows, clear cut nose, short full mouth, and bold well-rounded chin. As I scanned her features—which I am afraid I did with rather more enthusiasm than good manners, and somewhat to our mutual embarrassment when I was detected—I could not perceive one detail that would not, in a more common-place setting, have been an object of admiration. In the matter of mere line and form she recalled those masterpieces that, in the Golden Age of art, came forth from the workshops of the sculptors of Hellas to delight and amaze mankind for all time. But in the living face there was that which even the genius of Pheidias could not give; the sparkle of the eye, the silken softness of hair that rippled back from the rounded forehead, and above all, the gorgeous colouring of the south, the warm glow like the blush of a ripe pomegranate.
"My impression is," said Miss Pereira, as she caught my eye for the fiftieth time, "that Mr. Englefield contemplates offering me for sale by private treaty to some well-to-do chiefs of his acquaintance. He has been engaged during the whole of dinner in constructing an attractive prospectus, and is now about to consider the question of title deeds."
"I am afraid I have been staring a good deal," I replied, considerably out of countenance, "but you must forgive me if you can. You don't realise what a rare and curious creature you are. Do you know that I have only seen one white woman since I left England, and she was an elderly German missioner?"
"And pray, Miss," interposed Pereira, "how did you know that Mr. Englefield was staring at you?"
"My dear father, I saw him with my own eyes," exclaimed Miss Pereira, at which we all laughed, and I felt that the reproof was cancelled.
"Well, well," said the old man, "you need not stare one another out of countenance now, for I expect you will each see enough of the other for the next month or so. But perhaps you are going back with Bithery, Englefield? I hear he has sold out and is just filling up for the homeward voyage."
"He will be sailing for England in about a fortnight, but I am not going with him this voyage."
"Indeed! and what are you going to do? Is the store to be replenished?"
"I shall have done with the store in a few days I expect, and then I shall be paid off."
"And after that?"
"After that I have a scheme which I want to talk over with you when you have a little time to spare."
"I am not excessively busy at the present moment," said Pereira; "so, as we seem to have finished eating, you might commence your discourse."
"Won't you go and sit in the verandah to talk over your business?" interposed Miss Pereira. "I will bring your wine and see you comfortably settled before I go."
"I was hoping," said I, "to number you among my audience, Miss Pereira. If you will stay, I can promise you some amusement, for my scheme is of the most wildly original kind."
"Oh, if the matter is not confidential, I should like to stay, especially if you are going to be amusing. Besides, I am really bursting with curiosity."
"Then I will go and get my documents," I replied, and with this I retired to fetch from my portmanteau the journal of Captain Barnabas Hogg.
When I returned, a paper lantern was swinging from the roof of the verandah, and a small hurricane lamp, for me to read by, stood on the table. Three Madeira chairs had been brought out from the room, and as my host and his daughter had already taken their seats with an air of expectation, I took possession of the empty chair and unfolded my project.
"You may remember," said I, addressing my host, "a conversation we had one evening soon after I came here, on the subject of the wealth of the native kings, in which you told me of certain traditions relating to a great fetish hoard near the source of the River Tano."
"I remember," replied Pereira.
"You may remember also how on a certain Sunday at Anyáko we met an old woman leading her blind son."
"I recollect it perfectly."
"Well, my story and my project are both connected with that tradition and that meeting."
Pereira made no comment on this statement beyond a barely perceptible lift of his eyebrows.
I then went on to give a detailed account of my discovery of the ancient desk at Adena, and the finding of the old ship-master's journal; and as I proceeded I could see that the curiosity of my auditors became more and more acute, and their attention more close; and when, at the close of my narration, I produced the aged volume and placed it in Pereira's hands, the old man turned over its musty leaves with the keenest interest and enjoyment.
"It's a most curious and interesting find," said he, at last, handing the volume to his daughter, "but I don't quite see its connection with our blind friend nor with your plans for the future."
"Of course you do not," I replied, "but when Miss Pereira has examined the book sufficiently I will read you the riddle."
Miss Pereira at once handed the journal back to me, and opening it at the now familiar page, I read to them Captain Hogg's account of the Portuguese mulatto and his strange adventures.
"What a marvellous and terrible story!" exclaimed Miss Pereira, as I finished and passed the open book to my host. "It reads like some weird legend of adventure in the under-world. It isn't possible that it can be true."
"Of its truth I feel no doubt whatever," replied Pereira, who was poring, with the deepest fascination, over the crabbed writing; "nor do I feel any doubt that this gruesome cavern still exists and is still tenanted by its terrific band of workers. But still, I do not see what this has to do with your plans for the future, Englefield."
"My dear Pereira," I rejoined. "You have answered that question yourself. You say you are sure that the cavern still exists with all its infernal machinery in full swing. So am I. And do you suppose that I can ever rest until I have seen its marvels with my own eyes, or, at least, ascertained the existence of the golden pool that feeds the crucibles on its furnaces?"
"If ever you do see it with your own eyes, it will be the last thing that you will see," said Pereira.
His daughter shuddered.
"Come, Mr. Englefield," she said, "you have not told us everything yet. You have something more to say, I am sure, haven't you? Some scheme that you have worked out in connection with this story. Isn't it so?"
"Yes, I have a scheme," I replied rather shyly, "but it is such a wild and apparently impracticable one that I am ashamed to mention it to you."
"Oh, don't be afraid," said she, smiling. "We are prepared for anything now; I defy you to astonish us."
"Then I will tell you my plan, and you can scoff if you please. It arose from my meeting at Adena with a Fulah merchant from, I think, Sókoto. When I first saw this man I was at once struck by his extraordinarily European appearance. He was scarcely as dark as I am, his features were quite of the European type—perhaps a trifle Jewish—and, in fact, I could not help seeing that if he and I had exchanged clothing, neither of us would have appeared at all inappropriately apparelled. Reflecting upon this, it occurred to me that it might, perhaps, not be impossible for me to assume the dress and style of a Fulah, and so make my journey to Aboási without exciting remark or attracting much attention. It sounds a pretty mad scheme, doesn't it?"
"It certainly does seem a little—well, a little romantic, I think," said Miss Pereira; "but then I have never seen a Fulah, and to me an African is a black man, so I am unable to imagine you effectively disguised as a native."
"Yet it is not so mad as it sounds," put in Pereira meditatively, stroking his beard. "Englefield is perfectly correct so far in what he says. Dress him up in a riga and wondo, shave his head, wrap his face in a litham, stain his finger nails red, and put a streak of antimony under his eyes, and he might walk through any native market without even the Fulahs themselves suspecting him. But, my dear boy," he continued, turning to me, "there are other difficulties, as you must have seen. There is the language, for instance. You are not going to pose as a deaf mute, I suppose?"
"I know a little Hausa," I said modestly.
"A little!" he exclaimed. "You must know a great deal if you would not be detected at once. But let us see what you do know." He bustled away, and presently returned with a copy of Schn's "Maganan Hausa" in his hand. Opening the book at the "Story of the Prophet Jesus and the Skull," he directed me to read a passage aloud and translate it.
This I did with an ease that surprised myself and filled Pereira with astonishment.
"Why, my dear fellow," said he, "you have quite an excellent working knowledge of the language, and, it seems to me, a very good accent too, although quite different from that which is spoken by the Hausas down here. With a little practice your Hausa might do. But there are yet other things—the habits of the Fulahs and Hausas, which would be quite strange to you, and your ignorance of which would betray you. Then there is Arabic; every high-class Fulah knows a little Arabic and can spell out a verse or so of the Koran. Do you know any Arabic?"
"Not a word."
"Well, I do. I lived for a year at Tripoli, and picked up a fair knowledge of it, and, as you seem to be naturally a good linguist, I daresay I can put you in the way of as much as you are likely to want. But the habits and customs seem to me the real stumbling-block. You know nothing of the ways of these people, and so would be detected as a stranger before you had been in their company five minutes."
I was silent for awhile.
Pereira had put his finger upon what I had seen from the first was the really weak spot in my plan, and I was left without a reply. But I had no intention of giving up my scheme.
"I admit the force of your objection," I said presently, "but I must try to get over the difficulty by learning as much of the domestic habits of the Fulahs as I can before starting, and trust to acquiring the real hallmark in the course of my travels."
"Trust in Providence, in fact. Well, you are young and hopeful. But have you settled any details as to making the start on this wonderful Sindbad voyage?"
"Yes," I replied. "I have arranged with a certain David Annan that I shall accompany him on a monkey-skin expedition into North Ashánti."
"You know that Annan is a consummate rascal, I suppose?"
"I guessed it. I imagine that he will probably try to rob me and make off as soon as we are fairly in the bush, which is just what I want him to do. I shall thus disappear in a graceful and natural manner, and shall not be baulked by well-meant endeavours to discover my whereabouts."
Pereira laughed. "You are an ingenious lunatic, Englefield, and deserve to succeed, but you've not the least chance of doing so. You had much better give up this hare-brained scheme, at least for the present, and either go home with Bithery or stay here with me and make your little pile in a sane manner."
"I tell you, Pereira," said I, irritably, "that my mind is made up. I have arranged to go with Annan, and I am going."
Pereira shrugged his shoulders. "It is something for a man to know his own mind," said he drily, "even if that mind is none of the soundest."
But he made no further objections, and we spent the remainder of the evening discussing the mysterious cavern and considering the details of the great wild goose chase. It was nearly midnight when we rose to retire, and, as Pereira shook hands with me and wished me "good-night," he said with sudden warmth, "You are a romantic young idiot, Englefield, there is no doubt, but, all the same, if I were twenty years younger, you should not go on your quest alone."
"And I," said his daughter, "if I were only a man, would be proud to go with him and share his perils and adventures."
"And so there would be three of us," said Pereira, "a most glorious and undivided trinity of fools." He laughed again, and waving his hand to me went off to bed.
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