Out of the blue waters of the Atlantic the _Ethiopia_ ran, on Saturday,
September 11, into the mud-coloured estuary of the Cross and Calabar
Rivers. On the left lay the flat delta of the Niger, ahead stretched
the landscape of mangrove as far as the eye could range; to the south-
east rose the vast bulk of the Cameroon Mountains. With what interest
Mary gazed on the scene one can imagine. Somewhere at the back of these
swamps was the spot where she was to settle and work. That it was near
the coast she knew, for all that more distant land was unexplored and
unknown: most of what was within sight, indeed, was still outside the
pale of civilisation; through the bush and along the creeks and lagoons
moved nude people, most of whom had never seen a white face. It might
well seem an amazing thing to her, in view of the fact that there had
been commerce with the coast for centuries. Vessels had plied to it for
slaves, spices, gold dust, ivory, and palm oil; traders mingled with
the people, and spoke their tongue; and yet it remained a land of
mystery.

There were many reasons for this. The country was owned by no European
Power. Britain regarded it--somewhat unwillingly at first--as a sphere
of influence, but had no footing in it, and no control over the people.
These were divided into many tribes and sections of tribes, each
speaking a different tongue, and each perpetually at war with its
neighbour. The necessities of trade fostered a certain intercourse;
there was neutral ground where transactions took place, and products
for the traders filtered down to the people at the coast who acted as
middlemen. These, for obvious reasons, objected to the white men going
inland--they would get into touch with the tribes, their authority
would be undermined and their business ruined, and as they controlled
the avenues of approach and were masters in their own house their veto