One soon becomes accustomed to their nakedness, and even the ladies seem to forget it. In this they are helped by the native’s childlike unconsciousness of any breach of etiquette. Then sometimes one goes to the other extreme and thinks that there is nothing of the savage about them at all—barring the yell and a soon-discovered incorrigible indifference to the categories of “mine” and “thine” with consequent insecurity of all portable property. In this stage of developing opinion I have heard ladies pronounce them “perfectly lovely.” And the Old Coaster blandly informs them that they are “as innocent as lambs.” The Kruboy is of real negro stock, and is not so graceful, not so intellectual, not so gentle in manners, as the natives further south of the Calabar, the Bantu tribes, who are not classified as negroes. But the Kruboy’s physique is magnificent, in size, development, and strength. They prefer to sleep in the companionway or some other sheltered place; but, as there is not room for all, most of them lie in their nakedness on the open deck, exposed to all kinds of weather. Their food is rice, salt pork, and sea biscuits. Their degradation is manifest not so much in the indecency that most people expect, as in their unappeasable hunger and greedy appetite. All food is “chop” to the Kruboy, and when he eats he “chops.” You may not like this word—you may hate it; but you will be obliged to use it continually on the coast; and the Kruboy would not understand any substitute. One day the Kruboys were landing some salt at Batanga for our missionary, Mr. Gault, when the boat capsized in the surf and before they could recover it the salt had all dissolved in the sea. They came to Mr. Gault carrying the empty, dripping sacks, but absolutely indifferent to the loss, and said: “Massa, the sea done chop all them salt.” The English names of the Kruboys are interesting, and need some explanation. In the African languages there is no distinct vocabulary of “proper names.” As it was with the Jews, and some other nations ancient and modern, so in Africa names are usually descriptive or commemorative of some incident, notable or otherwise, and any word, phrase, or sentence, may be so used. For instance on the Gaboon River there is a very small village, which, as I was entering it for the first time, one of my boat-boys described as consisting of four men, four women, four houses, four goats, and four chickens; but the name of it was _Bi Biana Milam_—_We Despise Big Towns_. I thought it was rather pathetic; for I know how the big towns vex the little towns. Childlessness is a reproach and a great sorrow among African women; and a certain woman in Gaboon who was advanced in years when she bore her first child gave him a name which means, “It-is-no-disgrace-to-be-childless.” These names sound far better in their own language.