At first Hassan, like a good Mohammedan, refused to touch any spirits,
but as the meal went on he politely relented upon this point, and I
poured him out a liberal tot. The appetite comes in eating, as the
Frenchman said, and the same thing applies to drinking. So at least it
was in Hassan's case, who probably thought that the quantity swallowed
made no difference to his sin. After the third dose of square-face he
grew quite amiable and talkative. Thinking the opportunity a good one,
I sent for Sammy, and through him told our host that we were anxious
to hire twenty porters to carry our packages. He declared that there
was not such a thing as a porter within a hundred miles, whereon I
gave him some more gin. The end of it was that we struck a bargain, I
forget for how much, he promising to find us twenty good men who were
to stay with us for as long as we wanted them.
Then I asked him about the destruction of the mission station, but
although he was half-drunk, on this point he remained very close. All
he would say was that he had heard that twenty years ago the people
called the Mazitu, who were very fierce, had raided right down to the
coast and killed those who dwelt there, except a white man and his
wife who had fled inland and never been seen again.
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