Negoro repeated his expression of regret that the whole party had not been carried another hundred miles into the province.
“It really cannot be helped,” rejoined the American; “I have done the best I could; and I think, mate,” he added confidentially, “that you have done wisely in following the caravan at a good distance; that dog of theirs evidently owes you a grudge, and might prove an ugly customer.”
“I shall put a bullet into that beast’s head before long,” growled Negoro.
“Take care you don’t get one through your own first,” laughed Harris; “that young Sands, I warn you, is a first-rate shot, and between ourselves, is rather a fine fellow of his kind.”
“Fine fellow, indeed!” sneered Negoro; “whatever he is, he is a young upstart, and I have a long score to wipe off against him;” and, as he spoke, an expression of the utmost malignity passed over his countenance.
Harris smiled.
“Well, mate,” he said; “your travels have not improved your temper, I see. But come now, tell me what you have been doing all this time. When I found you just after the wreck, at the mouth of the Longa, you had only time to ask me to get this party, somehow or other, up into the country. But it is just upon two years since you left Cassangé with that caravan of slaves for our old master Alvez. What have you been doing since? The last I heard of you was that you had run foul of an English cruiser, and that you were condemned to be hanged.”
“So I was very nearly,” muttered Negoro.
“Ah, well, that will come sooner or later,” rejoined the American with philosophic indifference; “men of our trade can’t expect to die quietly in our beds, you know. But were you caught by the English?”
“No, by the Portuguese.”
“Before you had got rid of your cargo?”
Negoro hesitated a moment before replying.
“No,” he said, presently, and added, “The Portuguese have changed their game: for a long time they carried on the trade themselves, but now they have got wonderfully particular; so I was caught, and condemned to end my days in the penitentiary at St. Paul de Luanda.”
“Confound it!” exclaimed Harris, “a hundred times better be hanged!”
“I’m not so sure of that,” the Portuguese replied, “for when I had been at the galleys about a fortnight I managed to escape, and got into the hold of an English steamer bound for New Zealand. I wedged myself in between a cask of water and a case of preserved meat, and so managed to exist for a month. It was close quarters, I can tell you, but I preferred to travel incognito rather than run the risk of being handed over again to the authorities at Luanda.”
“Well done!” exclaimed the American, “and so you had a free passage to the land of the Maoris. But you didn’t come back in the same fashion?”
“No; I always had a hankering to be here again at my old trade; but for a year and a half. …”
He stopped abruptly, and grasped Harris by the arm.
“Hush,” he whispered, “didn’t you hear a rustling in that clump of papyrus?”
In a moment Harris had caught up his loaded gun; and both men, starting to their feet, looked anxiously around them.
“It was nothing,” said Harris presently; “the stream is swollen by the storm, that is all; your two years’ travelling has made you forget the sounds of the forest, mate. Sit down again, and go on with your story. When I know the past, I shall be better able to talk about the future.”
They reseated themselves, and Negoro went on—
“For a whole year and a half I vegetated at Auckland. I left the hold of the steamer without a dollar in my pocket, and had to turn my hand to every trade imaginable in order to get a living.”
“Poor fellow! I daresay you even tried the trade of being an honest man,” put in the American.
“Just so,” said Negoro, “and in course of time the Pilgrim, the vessel by which I came here, put in at Auckland. While she was waiting to take Mrs. Weldon and her party on board, I applied to the captain for a post, for I was once mate on board a slaver, and know something of seamanship. The Pilgrim’s crew was complete, but fortunately the ship’s cook had just deserted; I offered to supply his place; in default of better my services were accepted, and in a few days we were out of sight of New Zealand.”
“I have heard something about the voyage from young Sands,” said Harris, “but even now I can’t understand how you reached here.”
“Neither does he,” said Negoro, with a malicious grin. “I will tell you now, and you may repeat the story to your young friend if you like.”
“Well, go on,” said Harris.
“When we started,” continued Negoro, “it was my intention to sail only as far as Chile: that would have brought me nearly halfway to Angola; but three weeks after leaving Auckland, Captain Hull and all his crew were lost in chasing a whale, and I and the apprentice were the only seamen left on board.”
“Then why
