20 
II. THE JOURNEY 
up their clouds of spray . . . and behind them all lies 
the immeasurable stretch of land, at some place in 
which every one who leaves us here is to be a lord and 
master, all his doings having a significance of some sort 
for the great land’s future. " Good health to you ! 
Good health to you ! ” It seems to be scd|;cely a 
solemn enough farewell for all that lies in the futureT" 
At Tabou and at Grand Bassam, on the Ivory Coast, 
and at Kotonou, the swell is so heavy even in good 
weather that passengers cannot get into the boats by 
the rope-ladder, but must be lowered into them four 
at a time in wooden boxes, such as one sees on merry- 
go-rounds at village fairs. It is the duty of the engineer 
who manages the crane to seize the right moment for 
letting the cradle with its four occupants safely down 
into the bottom of the boat which is dancing up and 
down on the waves ; the negro in the boat has to see 
that his craft is exactly below the cradle as it descends, 
and accidents are not infrequent. The unloading of 
cargo is also a very difficult operation and only pos- 
sible in calm weather. I now understand the assertions 
that West Africa is very poor in good harbours. 
At Tabou we took on board, as is done on every 
voyage, some fifty negroes for handling the cargo. 
They are taken as far as the Congo, to be landed again 
on the return voyage, and they helped with the unload- 
ing at Libreville, Cape Lopez, and Matadi, the places 
to which most of the freight is consigned. They do 
their work perfectly, almost better than the dock 
labourers at Pauillac, but their behaviour towards the 
other coloured folk on board is brutal. Whenever the 
latter get the least bit in their way they come to 
blows. 
