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Updated: June 12, 2025
George, apparently in the best of spirits, wrote as he always did, in a boyish, inconsequent fashion. His letter was filled with slang and gave no news. There was little to show that it was written from Mombassa, on the verge of a dangerous expedition into the interior, rather than from Oxford on the eve of a football match. But she read them over and over again.
Lucy, sitting back in her chair, quietly, was observing the new arrival. Dick had asked her and Mrs. Crowley to meet him at luncheon immediately after his arrival from Mombassa. This was two months ago now, and since then she had seen much of him. But she felt that she knew him little more than on that first day, and still she could not make up her mind whether she liked him or not.
Two or three days later the Merlin, which reported having had a long chase after the senior officer, going almost as far as Zanzibar and back to Mombassa before she picked him up, returned to Malindi, in company with the Bullfinch, another small cruiser attached to the East African squadron.
"I can tell you, mate," put in a man who was rubbing up the gun at the end of the bridge hard by where we were standing. "We're off for Mombassa again. I heard `old Square toes, the navigator, tell Mr Chisholm just now. He said we were agoin' to meet the Merlin there, and purseed further up the coast together." "Oh!" said Larry, "that means business, Tom."
So were all hands on board, when the news spread through the ship; and, on our reaching Mombassa late in the afternoon of the same day, steaming fifteen knots all the way, pretty nearly our full speed when the stokehold was not `closed up, we found the Merlin there before us, as the man on deck had told Larry and me in the morning.
The months passed, and there was nothing. It was a year now since he had arrived at Mombassa, then it was a year since the last letter had come from him. It was only possible to guess that behind those gaunt rocks fierce battles were fought, new lands explored, and the slavers beaten back foot by foot.
During our run up the coast from Mombassa, the first lieutenant and Mr Dabchick saw to our boats being got ready, and the bluejackets and marines, who were detailed for service with the expedition, mustered on deck in all their `war paint, and told off to the respective craft in which they were to go ashore; and by Eight Bells, after a hurried breakfast, which none of us much cared to eat, we were all so full of enthusiasm at the prospect of action, we shoved off from the Mermaid all in dead silence, though, so that no inkling of our coming might reach the ears of the Arabs before we were upon them.
'I don't think at all; I know there's not a word of truth in it. Since Alec arrived at Mombassa, he's been acclaimed by everyone, private and public, who had any right to an opinion. Of course it couldn't last. There was bound to be a reaction. 'Do you know anything of this man Macinnery? asked Boulger. 'It so happens that I do.
Alec found him half starving at Mombassa, and took him solely out of charity. But he was a worthless rascal and had to be sent back. 'He seems to me to give ample proof for every word he says, retorted Bobbie. Dick shrugged his shoulders scornfully. 'As I've already explained to Lady Kelsey, whenever an explorer comes home there's someone to tell nasty stories about him.
The bluejackets and marines belonging to the admiral's division then rejoined their ships at Mombassa; while our contingent, led still by `old Hankey Pankey, who was none the worse for the fray, retraced their steps through Teita and the `baboon valley' where, I may add, I met no second mishap to Malindi.
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