The Man Who Did the Right Thing: A RomanceJohnston, Harry
General
The Man Who Did the Right Thing: A Romance
Johnston, Harry
British -- Africa, East -- Fiction; Missions -- Tanzania -- Fiction
Lingani was a smaller edition of Unguja Town: flat-roofed Arab houses of
white-washed coral rock, thatched wattle-and-daub huts, groves of
coco-nut palms, a few Casuarina trees and Frangipani shrubs, pariah
dogs, wandering zebu cattle, and dwarf goats. The Mission Rest-house was
a substantial stone building in the Arab style of East Africa. It was
maintained jointly by four missionary societies for use by their members
in transit. There was a Swahili couple in charge of it, husband and
wife. The bed linen, table-cloths, napkins and cutlery were kept in
cupboards fastened with cunning padlocks, which only opened when you set
the letters of the lock to correspond with the word "open." This to
thwart inquisitive natives, with a smattering of education, was written
up for reminder in Greek letters. With this ruse John was fully
acquainted, so that he lost no time in opening the cupboards and
releasing the wherewithal for making up two beds and laying the table
for an evening meal. The black housekeepers, proffering greetings and
assurance of welcome while they worked, busied themselves in heating
water for baths, in making the beds, laying the table, and killing
chickens for soup and roast. John’s activities were multifold. He had
to see the dau unloaded and its precious cargo safely stowed away in the
store below the Rest-house.
Lucy at first sat limply in the divan or main reception-room, sore all
over, eyes blistered by the glare of sun on water, and with a headache
which for crippling agony exceeded anything she had known. But she
conquered her sullenness and made feeble attempts to help. John,
however, seeing that bath and bath water were ready and that sheets,
pillows and blankets had been placed on her Arab bedstead (a wooden
frame with a lattice-work across it of ox-hide strips), advised her to
undress, soothe her bites with spongings and ointment, and rest between
the sheets. Her back ached unbearably; her head seemed half-severed at
the neck, and she was seized with violent shiverings. The mosquitoes
had given her a sharp attack of malarial fever.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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