For a man in search of quiet and retirement, the village of Adaffia would seem to be an ideally eligible spot; especially if the man in question should happen to be under a rather heavy cloud. Situated in a little-frequented part of the Slave Coast, many miles distant from any town or settlement where white men had their abodes, it offered a haven of security to the Ishmaelite if it offered little else.
Thus reflected John Osmond, late John Walker, and now “Mr. James Cook,” if the need for a surname should arise. But hitherto it had not arisen; for, to the natives, he was simply “the white man” or “mastah,” and no other European had passed along the coast since the day on which he had buried Larkom—and his own identity—and entered into his inheritance.
He reviewed the short interval with
