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from time to time various errands he wanted to do in town and dashing off or sending a boy.

We spent the whole morning on the miserable little wharf, just waiting. Bernice, Mrs. Campbell, Mrs. Godley and Mrs. Tandy showed up about nine thirty to our great surprise; they had the Firestone mail, which had been forgotten, and only discovered by George on his desk this morning. The Kru boys, who have been working on board the West Irmo since it stopped here six weeks ago, came ashore with their boxes and baskets of stuff they had bought down the coast, and with a Jocko monkey, which Bill bought for four shillings. Half an hour later another native came to us and said, "Did you buy that monkey?" "Yes," says Bill. "But it's my monkey," he said, "that other boy have no right to sell it to you. [[strikethrough]] " [[/strikethrough]] I paid five shillings for it down the Coast." "That's not my fault, "said Bill, but he got the four shillings back from the first native and told the real owner what he had paid for the monkey. To our surprise he accepted the price without quibble and the monkey belonged to us without further incident.

It was nearly noon before the Captain showed up and we got into our surf boat. That bar was not too scary, although there were a few big waves where it seemed as though the nose of our boat would go straight down into the sand. The ocean was rough, with a heavy swell raising and lowering us as we slowly rowed out the two or three miles that we had to go. But the worst part was when we tried to tie up alongside the gangway. Our small boat rose with the waves until we could almost jump on deck, then dropped sickeningly as the swell passed. A sailor stood on the bottom step of the ladder to help us on, and every few moments he would grab a chain overhead and swing his legs up out of the way of the water that broke half way up the ladder. Coward that I am I yelled for a mammy chair, but was told there was none on board. There was nothing to do by stand up on the gunwhale [[strikethrough]] s [[/strikethrough]] of our boat and wait until the water lifted us to a level with the steps. One of the mates came down to give us a hand, and with the two men on the ladder to help me, and two on the surf boat to push me off, I finally leaped across and staggered up more terrified than I have ever been in my life. Once on the ladder the scary part was only begun: every time the surf boat below crashed into it, it swung and crashed into the steel side of the ship. When I finally got on desk I was trembling all over, and my mouth was so dry I couldn't even laugh about how frightened I had been. There was an excellent opportunity for breaking a leg on the way up, and after waiting this long for passage home I didn't want any more delays. We are really over a month late, as the first news of the ship was to the effect that she would leave Monrovia between the 10th and 15th of June.

We found the West Irmo loaded so heavily with mahogany that it was low in the water. Great logs of 6, 7 or even 9 tons are lashed on deck with heavy chains to keep them from washing away.

A few minutes after we got on, the West Irmo got under way. We went in to lunch, and presently heard the whistles blowing frantic blasts, and realized that our engines were slowing down and stopping. We went out to see what the matter was, and found a young stowaway, a colored lad now handcuffed to the rail, who