XI. On the “Great North Western”

“ I say, boys, what class are yon travelling,” shouted Aban to Tandor-Kuma and Kwamankra.

“I go neither first nor second,” returned Tandor-Kuma; and as the Gold Coast Government Railway boasts of only two classes, Kwamankra said, “ Look here, you fellows, I am a man of peace. If you are going to have any larks, I would rather take the down train twenty-four hours hence.”

By this time the bell announcing the hour for the departure of the train had sounded. So Kwamankra rushed to secure a first-class ticket, leaving the “ Professor ” and Tandor-Kuma to their own devices. When he returned, the two had occupied seats in the first-class compartment and started to make themselves merry with the good things which Kwamankra had provided for the journey.

“ Here’s to you and another five hundred a year, as the chaps over the water say ” — this as the “ Professor” raised his glass in the direction of Kwamankra. Seeing there was no alternative. the latter resigned himself to the situation, and good-humouredly toasted the company round.

“Teekets! teekeets!” shouted the collector from the second-class end of the ‘ ‘ composite carriage/’ Of course, you know what a “ composite carriage ” is? If you don’t, I will enlighten you. It is the kind of thing on this particular railway in which the whites travel at one end, their servants and the black elite at the other end, while the ordinary blacks are packed like sardines in a detached carriage, labelled ££ second-class.” Not that there is any rule prohibiting black gentlemen from using a first-class carriage, but the fact is the class referred to know better, and have too much self-respect to travel first, except on rare occasions when they can have a carriage all to themselves.

To resume, “teekeets! teekeets!” sounded nearer. By this time the “ Professor ” was in the middle of a Mississippi story, and his brush with buffaloes and other hair-breadth escapes. After taking a cheap degree, with his usual erratic disposition, Aban had been travelling, often supporting himself by odd jobs, and had included in his experiences an acquaintance with the Japs of whom he was never tired of speaking. The ticket collector eyed the three black gentlemen furtively once or twice, and seemed to have come to a mental resolve not to disturb them for the nonce, nor did the trio disturb him by so much as a momentary notice of his presence.

Just as he was about retreating to the secondclass compartment, Kwamankra shouted after him, “ I say, collector, won’t you have a drink? ” holding out to him some whisky and soda — “ the others do it, you know,” and this with a knowing wTink.

The collector was human. He hesitated, then made up his mind, took the drink, and went away. Presently he returned and became communicative.

“I don't know, Sar, if any of you, Sar, be lawyer man, Sar ? ’ 5

Tandor-Ivuma chuckled. “ What next,” demanded the “Professor ” sternly. Kwamankra held his peace, appearing not to listen.

“I don’t know, Sar, but I bin tink say I da go show you di rules which say di collector mus examin ebery gentman him teekeet.”

Kwamankra began to fumble in his pockets. “ My good man,” said the “ Professor ” to the collector, ‘ ‘ I have made it a rule never to give up my ticket on this line till I have landed safely at my destination, do you understand ? ’ ’

The emphasis seemed to upset the equilibrium of the collector. He sneaked away, may be, to reflect upon the advantage of an emphasis, and sure enough, he was soon heard letting off steam in the second-class compartment at the expense of an inoffensive Fanti. i 2 By this time the train had passed Mansu. Shortly after leaving that station there was some trouble with one of the vans getting off the rails; and it was a matter of half-an-hour before it was set right. Half-way between Mansu and Ashieme, some timber was taken, and as they steamed away in the twilight, the train with its composite appendages was a full furlong long ! Soon they were in thick darkness.

“Light, collector, light!” — this from Kwamankra, for in the detached carriage could be heard yells and shrieks of women and children.

‘ ‘ I say, collector, light ! Do you hear ? Light ! 5 ’ and this with an expletive or two from the “ Professor.” The expletive did its work. The collector made his way to the composite carriage amid a scene of much confusion.

“You had better go and fetch the Inspector to see about this mess, or I will report the whole lot of you fellows, white and black alike. It is perfectly disgraceful, this kind of thing,” said Tandor-Kuma.

The Inspector, who had, in the meantime, been hurried to the detached compartment by the shrieks of the women and children, had by this time got into the composite carriage.

‘ £ What the deuce are you doing not having yet lighted the carriage,” he said to the collector with an offended air. “I no get mach, Sar ! Railway no buy me mach, Sar ! 5 ’

The Inspector made as if he would knock the collector down, but thought better of the matter, and, snatching a borrowed match box, quickly tried to light the lamp. Puff ! went out the light.

“ Try again, Sir,” suggested Kwamankra dryly.

‘ ‘ There may be a drop of water in the oil.” Puff ! went out the light the second time.

“ Try again! try again ! ” came from all sides. “ Shall I get out and buy you some paraffin, Mr. Inspector? You know this is perfectly disgraceful. Thirteen shillings for thirty-nine miles and no oil,” said Tandor-Kuma.

“ Try again ! try again ! knock him down, teach him a lesson,” shouted some roughs. It was getting a bit exciting. The Inspector beat a hasty retreat.

“ They call dis di Govmont railway. It is di dirtiest hole I have been in. South Africa, East Africa, North Africa, they be countries. Dis country is disgraceful to the British Govmont,” put in a Frenchman at the corner.

Pu ! pu ! pu ! piyu ! ! Pu ! pu ! piyu! ! came the heartbreaking snort from the nostrils of the iron horse. It reminded one of an overworked omnibus horse at midnight in Oxford Street. First backwards, then downwards, up the incline, and down the gradient, toyed the iron horse, and as Tandor- Kuma thought of his wife and children waiting dinner in the cosy little room across the bridge, he could not help inwardly bestowing a blessing upon the devil and all his works. It was not until 9.30 p.m. that the terminus was made, the party having left on their 39 miles run at 2.30 p.m. As the trio walked the lonely streets, where black men are scarcely seen after sunset, the Professor, as a parting reminder, said to Kwamankra, “ On principle I never pay for a ticket on this line until I have made the terminus, and if you are a wise man, you will take my tip.”-