A moderately large white building attracts the eye, and usually brings upon itself a contemptuous stare, for it seems to be the town of Loango, marked so bravely on the map.

As a matter of fact the town is five miles inland, and the white building is only a factory or trading establishment.
Loango is the reverse of cheerful.

To begin with, it is usually raining there.

The roar of the surf--than which there are few sadder sounds on earth--fills the atmosphere with a never-ceasing melancholy.

The country is overwooded; the tropical vegetation, the huge tangled African trees, stand almost in the surf; and inland the red serrated hills mount guard in gloomy array.