NATIVE SAILOR-MEN 79 



a slight mist on the horizon. The Massowa 

 Mountains now appear a mere blue outline astern, 

 and the Zambezi ahead of us, although the land 

 rises slightly on the right bank, is for many miles 

 quite flat, and backs on to undulating, tree-covered 

 hills, which throw up low peaks at long intervals. 

 The aneroid here shows that we have ascended 

 seventy-two feet above sea-level. 



Down below, seated in various attitudes of restful 

 ease on the hatches of the lighters towed alongside, 

 the native crew and domestic servants, during the 

 greater part of the day, lead a life of unbroken 

 repose. Their chief duties are fulfilled in the early 

 morning, leaving them free, except for occasional calls 

 for unimportant services, to loiter in the luxurious 

 indolence they love on the sunny decks below. 

 Upon one or other of the lighters lashed alongside 

 us there is always a wood fire burning, and upon 

 this a native cooking-pot of vast, cavernous pro- 

 portions, which, like the widow's cruse, seems always 

 full of . . . something, simmers gently. At intervals, 

 therefore, between short naps, or between games 

 of cards which to European eyes are wholly desti- 

 tute of rhyme or reason, or between voluble dis- 

 putes with neighbouring companions of shirking 

 disposition as to whose turn it really is now to 

 sweep up the lower decks and carry wood to the 

 furnaces, a short paddle-shaped spoon is thrust 

 into the cooking-pot, and a morsel fished out and 

 meditatively devoured. Looking back over many 

 journeys undertaken on steamers of this class, I 

 find it hard to recall any article, assimilable even 

 by miracle by the human digestive system, which 



