Part 20 (1/2)

The steamer bad now struck the equator, and as it was midsummer the weather was extremely warm, and the smell of the oozing tar, pouring from every joint, was sickening. But the weather suited Alexander Pop perfectly.

”Dis am jest right,” he said. ”I could sleep eall de time, 'ceptin' when de meal gong rings.”

”Blood will tell,” laughed Randolph Rover. ”When you land, Alexander, you ought to feel perfectly at home.”

”Perhaps, sah; but I dun reckon de United States am good enough for any man, sah, white or colored.”

”Right you are,” put in d.i.c.k. ”It's the greatest country on the globe.”

It was a clear day a week later when the lookout announced land dead ahead. It proved to be a point fifteen miles above the mouth of the Congo, and at once the course was altered to the southward, and they made the immense mouth of the river before nightfall.

It was a beautiful scene. Far away dashed the waves against an immense golden strand, backed up by gigantic forests of tropical growth and distant mountains veiled in a bluish mist: The river was so broad that they were scarcely aware that they were entering its mouth until the captain told them.

When night came the lights of Boma could be distinctly seen, twinkling silently over the bay of the town. They dropped anchor among a score of other vessels; and the long ocean trip became a thing of the past.

”I'm all ready to go ash.o.r.e,” said Tom.

”My, but won't it feel good to put foot on land again!”

”Indeed it will!” cried d.i.c.k. ”The ocean is all well enough, but a fellow doesn't want too much of it.”

”And yet I heard one of the French sailors say that he hated the land,” put in Sam. ”He hadn't set foot on sh.o.r.e for three years.

When they reach port he always remains on deck duty until they leave again.”

Mortimer Blaze went ash.o.r.e at once, after bidding all of the party a hearty good-by. ”Hope we meet again,” he said. ”And, anyway, good luck to you!”

”And good luck to you!” cried Tom. ”Hope you bag all of the lions and tigers you wish,” and so they parted, not to meet again for many a day.

It was decided that the Rovers should not leave the s.h.i.+p until morning. It can well be imagined that none of the boys slept soundly that night. All wondered what was before them, and if they should succeed or fail in their hunt.

”Dis aint much ob a town,” remarked Aleck, as they landed, a little before noon, in a hot, gentle shower of rain. ”Nuffin like New York.”

”There is only one New York, as there is but one London,” answered Randolph Rover. ”Our architecture would never do for such a hot climate.”

Along the river front was a long line of squatty warehouses, backed up by narrow and far from clean streets, where the places of business were huddled together, and where a good share of the trading was done on the sidewalk. The population was a very much mixed one, but of the Europeans the English and French predominated. The natives were short, fat, and exceedingly greasy appearing. Hardly a one of them could speak English.

”I don't see any Americans,” remarked d.i.c.k. ”I suppose--”

”There is an American store!” burst out Sam, pointing across the way. He had discovered a general trading store, the dilapidated sign of which read:

SIMON HOOK,

Dealer in Everything.

English Spoken by an American.

Horn of All Kinds Bought.

Yankee Boots Are the Best!

”He believes in advertising,” laughed d.i.c.k. ”I'd like to go in and see Simon Hook. Perhaps he'll remember something about father!” he added suddenly.