O'er Many Lands, on Many Seas. Stables Gordon

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      “‘Sweeba, what on earth brings you here?’ says I.

      “‘Commander’s orders,’ said Sweeba, saluting.

      “Now Sweeba was always dressed when on board like a British sailor, but here he was almost as naked as the stem of a palm-tree.

      “‘What have you done with your clothes, Sweeba?’ I asked.

      “‘I expect he has pawned them,’ said little Brown, our purser’s clerk.

      “‘I not can run muchee wid English clothes,’ Sweeba said modestly.

      “‘And so you hid them in the bush, eh?’

      “‘Ah! Massa Roberts,’ replied the negro, smiling; ‘you berry much clebber.’

      “‘Well, and what are the commander’s orders?’

      “‘You come back plenty much quick.’

      “‘Ship on fire?’

      “‘No, sah.’

      “‘Anything happened to Nie?’

      “‘No, sah. Nie and de monkey all right, sah.’

      “‘Well, explain.’

      “‘Only dis, sah, we goin’ to fight Arab dhow.’

      “We were all up quick enough at this intelligence. We didn’t stop to finish our luncheon.

      “‘Lead the way, Sweeba,’ I cried.

      “And off went Sweeba through the forest, we following in Indian file. We didn’t take more of the game with us than we could easily carry, so the jackals had a good feed that night.

      “It was a long and a rough road to travel. You know the style of thing, Nie; the dark dismal woods, the broad swamps, the hills and the wide stony uplands, where never a thing lives or thrives, bar the lizards and a few snakes, and then last of all the mangrove forests. Our anxiety to get back made us hurry all the more. We made forced marches, and burned but two camp fires ere we reached the coast.

      “The ship we had left lying at anchor in a little wooded creek. We returned to find it gone.

      “‘Massa, massa; we too late,’ cried Sweeba. ‘Now de Arab men come quick and kill us all for true.’

      “‘Where is the nearest village, Sweeba?’

      “‘Long way, sah; long way, and no good. Dey kill Englishman. No gib mooch time to tink.’

      “‘Well, we’re in a fix, I think,’ I said.

      “‘Not a bit of it,’ cried a cheery voice close behind us; and looking round there stood little Midshipman Leigh, of the starboard watch. The young rascal had heard us coming, and hidden his boat among the trees, making his men lie close, as he expressed it, to see how we’d look.