daughter of a datoo[1]. . . well then, I am certain that she had no claim to such imperfection; and yet I saw her fall into the water in a shipwreck just like another. I, a man, had to help her to land.”
“But ought she to have flown like a sea-mew?”
“Certainly, . . . or, no. . . she ought not to have had a body. Would you have me tell you how I became acquainted with her? It was in ’42, I was Controller at Natal.[2] Have you been there, Verbrugge?”
“Yes.”
“Now then, then you know that pepper is cultivated at Natal. The pepper-grounds are situated at Taloh-Baleh, north of Natal, near the coast. I had to inspect them, and having no knowledge of pepper, I took with me in the pirogue[3] (prakoe) a datoo—some one who knew more about it than I. His daughter, then a child of thirteen years, went with us. We sailed along the coast and found it very wearisome.”
“And then you were shipwrecked?”
“No, it was fine weather. . . the shipwreck happened many years afterwards; otherwise I should not have been weary. We sailed along the coast, and it was fearfully hot. Such a pirogue gives little occasion for relaxation, and, moreover, I was then in a very bad humour, to which
