Brown was of the opinion that the Black Hole was a nosegay compared to our lot--"Besides which, they probably had rum with 'em!" he added.
Some of the porters grew sick under the strain of heat, fear, excitement and inactivity.

The native suffers as much from unaccustomed inconvenience as the white man, and more from close confinement.

The third night out the man next me began coughing, shaking my frame as much as his own as he racked himself, for we were wedged together with only the thickness of his blanket and mine between us, and I was jammed tight against the ship's side.

Toward morning he grew quiet--grew colder, too.

When dawn came we found that he had coughed up the most of his lungs on my white English blanket.
I gave them the blanket to bury him in, and we poled the Queen of Sheba inshore to find a place to dig a hole, leaving the body stretched on some tree-roots while we prospected.