discovered in time, and the bold navigator promptly
hanged the pilot, and would also have sacked
the town but for the timely submission and
apologies of the Sultan. In the principal street
of Mombasa -- appropriately called Vasco da
Gama Street -- there still stands a curiously
shaped pillar which is said to have been erected
by this great seaman in commemoration of his
visit.

Scarcely had the anchor been dropped, when, as
if by magic, our vessel was surrounded by a fleet
of small boats and "dug-outs" manned by crowds
of shouting and gesticulating natives. After a short
fight between some rival Swahili boatmen for my
baggage and person, I found myself being
vigorously rowed to the foot of the landing steps by the
bahareen (sailors) who had been successful in the
encounter. Now, my object in coming out to East
Africa at this time was to take up a position to
which I had been appointed by the Foreign Office
on the construction staff of the Uganda Railway.
As soon as I landed, therefore, I enquired from
one of the Customs officials where the
headquarters of the railway were to be found, and
was told that they were at a place called Kilindini,
some three miles away, on the other side of the
island. The best way to get there, I was further
informed, was by gharri, which I found to be a
small trolley, having two seats placed back to back