"If you love the Lord, explain!" said I.

"This old one-eyed lazaretto attendant is an ex-slave, ex-accomplice of
Tippoo Tib!"

"And Tippoo Tib?" I asked.

"Ignorant fo'castle outcast!" (All that because I had made one voyage
as foremast hand, and deserted rather than submit to more of it.)
"Tippoo Tib is the Arab--is, mind you, my son, not was--the Arab who
was made governor of half the Congo by H. M. Stanley and the rest of
'em. Tippoo Tib is the expert who used to bring the slave caravans to
Zanzibar--bring 'em, send 'em, send for 'em--he owned 'em anyway.
Tippoo Tib was the biggest ivory hunter and trader lived since old King
Solomon! Tippoo Tib is here--in Zanzibar--to all intents and purposes
a prisoner on parole--old as the hills--getting ready to die--and proud
as the very ace of hell. So says One-eye!"

"So we're all rich?" suggested Monty.

"Of course we are! Listen! The British government took Tippoo's
slaves away and busted his business. Made him come and live in this
place, go to church on Sundays, and be good. Then they asked him what
he'd done with his ivory. Asked him politely after putting him through
that mill! One-eye here says Tippoo had a million tusks--a
million!--safely buried! Government offered him ten per cent. of their
cash value if he'd tell 'em where, and the old sport spat in their
faces! Swears he'll die with the secret! One-eye vows Tippoo is the
only one who knows. There were others, but Tippoo shot or poisoned
'em."