AFRICAN CAMP FIRES 



managed just to avoid us. The dhow also rammed 

 the mudbank. 



A dozen reluctant boys hopped overboard and 

 pushed us off again. We pursued our merry way 

 again. On either hand now appeared fish weirs of 

 plaited coco fibre; which, being planted in the shal- 

 lows, helped us materially to guess at the channel. 

 Naked men, up to their shoulders in the water, 

 attended to some mysterious need of the nets, or 

 emerged dripping and sparkling with baskets of 

 fish atop their heads. The channel grew even 

 narrower, and the mudbanks more frequent. We 

 dodged a dozen in our headlong course. Our 

 local guide, a Swahili in tarboosh and a beautiful 

 saffron robe, showed signs of strong excitement. 

 We were to stop, he said, around the next bend; 

 and at this rate we never could stop. The 

 Yankee remarked, superfluously, that it would be 

 handy if this dod-blistered engine had a clutch; 

 adding as an afterthought, that no matter how long 

 he stayed in the tropics his nose peeled. We asked 

 what we should do if we over-carried our prospective 

 landing place. He replied that the dod-blistered 

 thing did have a reverse. While thus conversing 

 we shot around a corner into a complete cul-de-sac! 

 Everything was shut off hastily, and an instant later 

 we and the dhow smashed up high and dry on a cozy 



80 



