The Consular Office, a small
building by itself, is inclosed by the same picket which fences in the
lawn.
We found the office closed; but, in the verandah of the
dwelling-house, was a lady performing a tonsorial operation on the
head of a prim-looking, elderly European, in a low, white
cravat; - the most domestic little scene I had witnessed since leaving
home. Bent upon an interview with Wilson, the sailors now deputed the
doctor to step forward as a polite inquirer after his health.
The pair stared very hard as he advanced; but no ways disconcerted, he
saluted them gravely, and inquired for the consul.
Upon being informed that he had gone down to the beach, we proceeded
in that direction; and soon met a native, who told us that, apprised
of our vicinity, Wilson was keeping out of the way. We resolved to
meet him; and passing through the village, he suddenly came walking
toward us; having apparently made up his mind that any attempt to
elude us would be useless.
"What do you want of me, you rascals?" he cried - a greeting which
provoked a retort in no measured terms. At this juncture, the natives
began to crowd round, and several foreigners strolled along. Caught
in the very act of speaking to such disreputable acquaintances,
Wilson now fidgeted, and moved rapidly toward his office; the men
following.
