"Afric's sunny fountains" have been engaged for such a length of time in the poetical employment of "rolling down their golden sands," that a bank or bar of that same bright material has been formed at the mouth of every river, which it is very difficult and often dangerous to cross even in canoes. We had despatched boats before us to take soundings on the bar of Lamoo, and prepared to follow in the track thus marked out. Now, our little bark, although not warranted, like the Yankee boat, to float wherever there is a heavy dew, was nevertheless content with a very modest allowance of the aqueous element; in two and a half fathoms she was quite at home, and even in two--with the help of a few breakers--she never failed to bump it over a bar. We approached the bar of Lamoo, therefore, with a certain degree of confidence till the keel rasped on the sand; this caused us to turn astern till we rasped again; then, being neither able to get back nor forward, we stopped ship, put our fingers in our wise mouths, and tried to consider what next was to be done. Just then a small canoe was observed coming bobbing over the big waves that tumbled in on the bar; at one moment it was hidden behind a breaker, next moment mounting over another, and so, after a little game at bo-peep, it got alongside, and from it there scrambled on board a little, little man, answering entirely to Dickens's description of Quilp. "Quilp!" said the commander. "Quilp!! by George!" repeated our second-master. "Quilp!!!" added I, "by all that's small and ugly." "Your sarvant, sar," said Quilp himself. "I am one pilot." There certainly was not enough of him to make two. He was rather darker in skin than the Quilp of Dickens, and his only garment was a coal-sack without sleeves--no coal-sack _has_ sleeves, however--begirt with a rope, in which a short knife was stuck; he had, besides, sandals on his feet, and his temples were begirt with a dirty dishclout by way of turban, and he repeated, "I am one pilot, sar." "Can you take us over the bar?" asked the commander. "How much water you?" "Three fathoms." "I do it, sar, plenty quick." "Twenty shillings if you do." "I do it, sar. I do him," cried the little man, as he mounted the bridge; then cocking his head to one side, and spreading out his arms like a badly feathered duck, he added, "Suppose I no do him plenty proper, you catchee me and make shot." "If the vessel strikes, I'll hang you, sir." Quilp grinned--which was his way of smiling. "Up steam, sar!" he cried; the order was obeyed. "Go 'head. Stabird a leetle." "And a half three," sung the man in the chains; then, "And a half four;" and by-and-bye, "And a half three" again; followed next moment by, "By the deep three." The commander was all in a fidget. We were on the dreaded bar; on each side of us the big waves curled and broke with a sullen boom like far-off thunder; only, where we were, no waves broke.