A TROPICAL JUNGLE. 89 



on such nervous lines, she did occasionally some 

 fancy and splashing curves. 



The pilot of the launch turned out to be a 

 sandy-haired Yankee who had been catching 

 wild animals for Barnum and Bailey's circus. 

 While waiting for his ship, he, being a proverbial 

 handy Yankee, had taken on this job. He 

 became quite interested in telling us this, and at 

 times forgot his duties at the tiller. Then that 

 racing-launch would take a wild swoop ; the 

 clumsy old dhow astern would try vainly, with 

 much spray and dangerous careening, to follow ; 

 the compromise course would all but upset her ; 

 the spray would fly ; the safari boys would take 

 their ducking ; the boat boys would yell and 

 dance and lean frantically against the two long 

 sweeps with which they tried to steer. In this 

 wild and untrammelled fashion we careered up 

 the bay, too interested in our own performances 

 to pay much attention to the scenery. The low 

 shores, with their cocoanut groves gracefully 

 rising above the mangrove tangle, slipped by, 

 and the distant blue Shimba Hills came nearer. 



After a while we turned into a narrower chan- 

 nel with a good many curves and a quite unknown 

 depth of water. Down this we whooped at the 

 full speed of our thirty-horsepower engine. 



