Byron.

Scene: Night on an unknown river, which, dark and deep and sluggish, is rolling onwards to the distant ocean through a wild and beautiful district in the interior, nay, but ill the very centre of Africa. The centre it may well be called, for it is near the equator, and hundreds of miles from the Indian Ocean. Night on the river, but not darkness.

A round moon has risen, the clouds, dazzled by its splendour, have parted to let it pa.s.s; its light is flooding hill and dell and forest, and changing the river itself to--apparently--a moving flood of molten gold.

Light, but not darkness. Night, but not silence either. Were it possible for any one to pa.s.s swiftly and unseen along the banks of the unknown river at such an hour and on such a night as this, what sights he would see, what sounds would fall upon his listening ear! Come with me in imagination! Take heed of those rocks; they are slippery at the edge, for the rainy season is not yet past. To fall into the stream would mean an ugly death, were you even as good a swimmer as the gallant Webb. There are no signs of life in the water, it is true, but the plash of your fall would raise a score of awful heads above it; the crocodiles would be upon you with lightning speed, and rend you from limb to limb.

Peer over the cliff just there. What is that lying on the mud close by the river? Is it the trunk of some dead tree? Drop a pebble on it.

See; it moves off into the river and slowly disappears--a crocodile.

Hark to that horrible sound! it makes the very "welkin" ring,--a loud, discordant, coughing, bellowing roar. It is the lion-king of the forest. He loves not the moonlight. It baulks him of his prey; so there is anger in that growl. But you hardly can tell whence it comes; at one moment, it sounds over yonder among the rocks, next, down in that lonesome ravine, and next, in the forest behind you.

Look at those great birds. They fly so closely over our heads that their mighty wings overshadow us for a moment, and we can hear the rustling, creaking sound made by their feathers. There is something lying dead in the valley beyond the hill, and these are vultures going to gorge by the moonlight.

Two great necks are raised like poles behind a rock as the birds fly in that direction. Giraffes, who have been sleeping--there in the open, their heads leaning on the rocks, their ears doing duty even in slumber, but ready if danger draws near to--

"Burst like whirlwind o'er the waste, To thunder o'er the plain."

In yonder, beneath that flowery, ferny bank, is the leopard's cave--the tiger cat. If you went near enough you would see her fiery eyes, and hear a low, ominous growl that would chill you to the spine.

Yes, wild beasts and wild birds keep close to-night; for a little while only; when the deer and the antelope steal down to the river, they will come forth, and there will be yells and shrieks of anger, pain, and terror, and an awful feast to follow.

Behold those lordly elephants; how they trumpet and roar! They are excited about something.

Something unusual has happened, or they would not be there at this hour.

Ha! There is a boat on the river, creeping up under the shadow of the rocks. What mystery is this? There are white men in it, too, and right merrily they are paddling along. But never before have the waters of this unknown river been stirred by oar of European.

For not only is the country all around here a wild one, but it has the name, at all events, of being inhabited by a race of savages that are never at peace, who are born, live, and die on the war-path--the Logobo men.

"Couldn't we go a little nearer?" said Harvey, who sat in the stern sheets near the tall Arab Zona, who was steering, Kenneth and Archie having an oar each.

"Couldn't we go a little nearer and have a shot at that elephant?"

"No, no, no," cried Zona, hastily; "we must keep in the shade, gentlemen. Even the moon is not our friend, pleasant though her light be. But the sound of your rifle would raise the Logobo men, and a thousand poisoned arrows would soon be whistling round our heads. We could not escape."

"Before morning," said Kenneth, "according to your reckoning, my good Zona, we should be well through the Logobo country, and among friends?"

"True," replied Zona; "we will be among friends all the way to the land of gold, I trust."

"The land of gold!" exclaimed Kenneth; "what a fascinating phrase!

Zona, when we met you in Zanzibar our lucky stars must have been in the ascendant."

Zona gave a little laugh.

"It is the land of gold," he said, "that we are going to, it is true; but no man that ever yet tried brought that gold down to the coast."

"And why, my friend?"

"Why? I cannot tell you all the reasons why. They say the gold is guarded by evil spirits, that the hills where it is to be found are encircled by giant forests, by terrible swamps, the breath of which is more feared by the Arab than spear of savage foeman."

"We can but try," said Kenneth.

"Zona," said Archie, "did ever you hear the line of that old song, 'The March of the Cameron Men,' which says, 'Whatever a man dares he can do'?"

"Gentlemen all," replied Zona, "the Arab is the most daring of all men who live; the Arab has sought this gold that we are going in quest of; the Arab has failed! I have spoken."

"Worthy Zona," said Harvey, laughing, "you have an excellent opinion of your people, and an excellent opinion of yourself. Nay, never start, man. I love you for it. But let me tell you this. There is one thing in which even an Arab gold-seeker, with all his pluck and daring, may fail in--"

"And that is?" said Zona.

"Knowledge of prospecting."

"I am in the dark as to your meaning," said Zona.

"I know you are, and so are all your people. In other words, then, they don't know where to look for the gold. Now listen, friend. I have spent years and years in the gold regions of California--"

"I say, Harvey, old man," said Kenneth, "you weren't much the better of it. Eh?"

"True," replied Harvey, with a sigh; "else you wouldn't have found me working as an ordinary seaman before the mast in a craft like the _Brilliant_."

"Forgive me," said Kenneth, stretching out his hand, which Harvey readily grasped. "Forgive me; I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I found you before the mast, it is true; but I took to you from the first hour we met. You have got the grit of a good man in you. Else Archie and I wouldn't have asked you to come with us on this gold-hunt, which after all may turn out to be a wild-goose chase."

"But it will _not_ be a wild-goose chase. Man, I tell you this, the very mud of the river we are now floating over contains gold dust. We are going to trace that gold to its source, and find it in nuggets."

"I have found gold before," he continued. "I have made two fortunes and lost them, worse luck; but I can tell you whether or not gold lies in any country, if I get but one glance at the land, or but walk over it once. Fear not then, I won't deceive you, nor myself."

"Well, we shall trust to your skill," said Archie.

"And to Zona's," added Kenneth.

"To Zona's, certainly."

Let us hark back, reader, in our tale for a moment, and explain the appearance of our adventurers on this wild dark river of Africa at such a time of night.

The _Brilliant_ then was in the habit of touching occasionally at Zanzibar in her pa.s.sage from the East Indies to the Cape. Being much on sh.o.r.e, Kenneth could not help becoming acquainted with some of the numerous Portuguese merchants, who had settled in that strange city,--if a Portuguese merchant can be said to settle anywhere, for they are, like ourselves, a nation of wanderers. They are hospitable at their houses, however, and Kenneth and Archie too were made welcome, enough, and many a quiet cup of coffee they drank in the cool of the evening on great square housetops overlooking the blue sea.

They would sit far into the night, listening to stories of the interior of Africa, of wild adventures with wild beasts and wilder men, of great forest land and terrible swamps, of the country of the dwarfs and the dreaded gorilla, and of diamond caves, and caves in which nuggets of the richest gold were to be had for the gathering.

No wonder that such stories as these fired the young blood of our heroes Kenneth and Archie. They both longed to be rich; it was no mean ambition, for riches would be valued by neither as a mere h.o.a.rd of wealth, but for the good they could accomplish therewith in the dear wild land of their nativity.

"Oh!" said Kenneth one evening as he sat on a roof-top under the quiet stars, listening to the conversation of his friend Morosco. "Oh! if I could but get up and command an expedition into the interior!"

"Ha! ha!" laughed the Portuguese, "an idle dream. Ten thousand men could not penetrate into the land of gold and diamonds."

"But," said Archie, "two or three might."

"Ah!" cried Morosco, "there you have it, young sir; one man may do more in Africa than an army. It has ever been thus; look at your Livingstone for example."

Then Kenneth took to thinking, and for days said no more on the subject even to Archie. But one evening, he asked him to come for a row among the coral islands. It was nearly sundown. There was not a ripple on the water, only a yellow haze all along the horizon, with the broad sun sinking red through it.