The English Coaster, who for ten years in Nigeria had escaped fever and
sudden death, laughed evasively.
"I have never been in the Congo," he said. "Only know what they tell
one. But you'll see for yourself. That is," he added, "you'll see what
they want you to see."
They were leaning on the rail, with their eyes turned toward the coast
of Liberia, a gloomy green line against which the waves cast up
fountains of foam as high as the cocoanut palms. As a subject of
discussion, the coaster seemed anxious to avoid the Congo.
"It was there," he said, pointing, "the _Three Castles_ struck on the
rocks. She was a total loss. So were her passengers," he added. "They
ate them."
Everett gazed suspiciously at the unmoved face of the veteran.
"_Who_ ate them?" he asked guardedly. "Sharks?"
"The natives that live back of that shore-line in the lagoons."
Everett laughed with the assurance of one for whom a trap had been laid
and who had cleverly avoided it.
"Cannibals," he mocked. "Cannibals went out of date with pirates. But
perhaps," he added apologetically, "this happened some years ago?"
"Happened last month," said the trader.
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