Summary

Harry Collingwood A Middy of the Slave Squadron: A West African Story

And all this time we had not seen a single living creature, no, not so much as a dog; every living thing, save ourselves, had taken shelter from the fury of the elements, and was not likely to venture abroad again until it was over.
Still hurrying me forward, Ama led the way through the grove and along its edge, until we eventually reached a narrow bush path, through which it was necessary to wend our way circumspectly, for it was now as black as a wolf’s mouth, save when an occasional flicker of lightning from the now fast-receding storm momentarily lit up our surroundings.
Source: Gutenberg

Harry Collingwood A Middy of the Slave Squadron: A West African Story

At length, with a mighty stirring up of the mud by our deep-plunging paddles in the shallow water, we shaved close round this point and almost immediately afterwards darted into a narrow creek so completely overgrown with vegetation that the boughs of the mangroves and other trees united over our heads, forming a sort of tunnel, the interior of which was so opaquely dark that it was scarcely possible to see one’s hand before one’s face. Yet our helmsman seemed to know the place perfectly, for he stood boldly on, urging the crew to continue their exertions.
Source: Gutenberg

Harry Collingwood A Middy of the Slave Squadron: A West African Story

In the tropics day comes and goes with a rush, and, even while the skipper had been speaking, the object which had first revealed itself to me, a minute earlier, as a mere wan, ghostly suggestion had assumed solidity and definiteness of form, and now stood out against the sky behind her as a full-rigged ship of some seven hundred and fifty tons burthen, her hull painted bright green, and coppered to the water-line.
Source: Gutenberg

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