“Providence,” remarked Captain Bithery, as he drew the cork out of the stone jar and sniffed inquisitively at its muzzle, “Providence must have intended the cocktail to be the special beverage of the coaster, for otherwise why should the swizzle-stick tree grow in such numbers in these parts?” This position being beyond dispute a silence ensued, which was presently broken by the musical “guggle” of the swizzle-stick as it whirled round in the pink froth. “Englefield,” said the Captain, as he set down the empty tumbler, “I’ve got a little surprise for you. We’re off in a fortnight.” “Off!” I exclaimed. “Yes, off. I did a deal with a trader up at Bassam and cleared off the entire remainder of my stuff. So now there is only the homeward cargo to stow on board--we are half full already--and then it’s, ‘Ho for Bristol City!’ and ‘good-bye’ to the jolly old coast.” This was news indeed. I had not anticipated leaving Africa for several months, and had, in fact, almost abandoned my scheme of penetrating to the interior on account of my engagement with Bithery to look after the store. Now it would be necessary for me to decide at once on my future movements and make known my intentions to the Captain. “There is a little more of Annan’s stuff to be weighed yet,” I said. “Shall we go out and look at it? A little rubber, and about three tons of copra.” “Oh, Olympio will see to that, won’t you? You come out by the beach, Englefield; it’s cooler under the cocoa-nuts than in this oven.” We strolled out into the breezy palm grove by the beach, and lighting our pipes sat down in the shade on a mound of blown sand. “I needn’t ask if you are coming back with us?” said the Captain. “Well, the fact is, I don’t think I am.” “Nonsense. You’re not going to take a billet out here. I wouldn’t. You’ll never see England again if you do.” “No, I’m not thinking of any billet here. I have an idea of making a journey into the interior.” “Great Moses!” exclaimed the Captain. “What for?” “No special object, but curiosity. I want to see what the interior of Africa is really like.” “Don’t be such an infernal ass, Englefield. ‘Really like’! Pah! I’ll tell you what it’s like. It’s like the inside of a saucepan of hot boiled cabbage. Where had you thought of going to?” “I thought of travelling up through Ashanti, and, perhaps, making for the Hausa country.” “Ho! ho!” laughed the Captain grimly, with a wry twist of his face, “you needn’t prick out your course so far ahead. You’d be made into monkey soup before you were fairly out of soundings.” “Well, I mean to have a shot at it, anyhow,” said I, by way of closing a useless discussion. “Then you’re a damned fool, that’s all!” and the Captain angrily knocked out his half-smoked pipe on the toe of his boot. “When will you want to be paid off?” he inquired presently. “There will be a fair little sum to come to you, you know, what with your pay and the commission on the trade.”