On my way back to England on the “Leckwith,” along toward the end of the still sadly remembered year of 1876, after having said farewell to the China Sea, with its beauty, booty, and blood, we decided to go around by the Cape of Good Hope to look South Africa over a bit. By that time I was eager for anything that offered excitement and diversion, without regard to either the principles which were involved or the lack of them. I had brooded over the death of the Beautiful White Devil, for love of whom I was willing to give up my old ways and become a quiet and orderly person, until I had interpreted it to mean that the unseen and unknown directing force of my career had no sympathy with my reformatory resolutions and had taken that brutal way of making plain the command that I was to remain a homeless adventurer. The result was that my nature, for the time being, was as embittered as it had been exalted only a short time before, and my hand was raised against every one. Norton, my partner in this expedition, was delighted with the change that had come over me, and hailed with unconcealed joy what he regarded as my return to a normal frame of mind. We put in at the Mauritius for coal and there we heard stories regarding the still flourishing slave trade which led us to believe we might find some spirited and profitable sport with them, in the same way that we had preyed on the Chinese and Malay pirates out East. We sailed around Cape St. Mary into the Mozambique Canal, between the East African coast and the island of Madagascar, and began bartering for ivory, gold dust, palm nuts, and animal skins, as a mask for our real purpose and to give us a favorable opportunity to study the situation. Investigation proved that we had been correctly advised regarding it. The Sultan of Zanzibar had practically suppressed the sale of slaves in his domain, but the only effect had been to drive the trade down the coast, and large numbers of negroes from the interior were being handled by the Arabs, who were born to the business. For the pick of the slaves there was a regular course down the White Nile and the Blue Nile and on across into Arabia, hitting the back trail on the path of Moses. The rest of the unfortunate victims of a civilization which makes might right were driven in long strings down to the coast, chiefly to Mozambique and to the delta of the Zambesi River, which was a favorite spot for barterings in blacks. The bulk of these slaves were intended for shipment across the channel to Madagascar, where there always was a demand for them among the old Hovas, or aristocrats, who owned the large plantations. The balance of them were sent to the Arabian coast for distribution. They were shipped to both markets in _dhows_, low-lying vessels that, with a fair wind and comparatively smooth sea, could make almost steamship time. They need to be fast, for a British cruiser, on the lookout for just such ships, was continually