out of commission with more or less serious wounds, but we suffered little in comparison with the damages we inflicted. With the fight over we would transfer the Arabs to the “Leckwith,” where we put them in irons or somewhere else, and place a crew on the dhow to navigate her to the coast and sell the slaves. Our attacks were always made close inshore to minimize the danger of being ourselves surprised and overhauled by a warship. We would follow the captured dhow in with the “Leckwith” and stand off and on two or three miles offshore, watching for interference and waiting for the transaction to be closed, when we would send boats in and pick up our crew, which invariably was in charge of Norton or I or Lorensen. The dhow was sold or presented to the purchaser of the slaves. The activity was continuous, for we were always scurrying around in search of slaves, yet the excitement of it was not so thrilling as I had anticipated. We had been following this new, and I must admit somewhat revolting occupation only a few weeks when the crew of a small dhow set their ship on fire as we were closing in on it one night and took to the boats before a shot had been fired. By the time we got on board the whole afterpart of the vessel was in flames and we had all we could do to keep it from spreading forward far enough to reach the slaves, who were in a panic and were making the night melodious with the wildest yells I had ever heard. As soon as the blaze was made out from the “Leckwith,” Norton brought her alongside and we succeeded in transferring all of the negroes to her, but with great difficulty, for they were almost helpless from fear and, chained together as they were, it was hard to handle them quickly. However, it was a small shipment, and all of our men who could be spared from fighting the fire eventually got them below decks on the “Leckwith,” after which we let the dhow burn, and made fast time away from her for fear the flames would attract some passing ship. It was several days before we got rid of the slaves, for the first port we visited was overstocked, and in that time they filled the ship with an indescribable stench that it was impossible to eradicate, and in the end it proved her undoing. One evening not long after that, just at dusk, as we came around Cape St. Andrew, we ran right into a British gunboat--I think it was the old “Penelope.” She at once changed her course, came alongside and hailed us: “What ship is that?” “The ‘Jane Meredith,’ from Delagoa Bay to Suez,” I shouted back, and I had the papers to prove it. We were ordered to heave to and a lieutenant came aboard us. His manner, as he came over the rail, indicated that he was suspicious of us. He first examined our papers and passed them. “You’re damned light to be going north,” he said, as he looked over the manifest, which showed only the small cargo of skins and palm nuts that we always carried.