CHAPTER X 



HOMEWARD BOUND 



We left Avakubi on the 27th of April. We had looked forward 

 to the day with pleasurable anticipation as a relief from hot 

 marches through tangled foliage, and a pleasanter mode of 

 travel in large native canoes. The Ituri, foaming over the 

 jagged rocks, rushes wildly through the centre of the village, 

 which is picturesquely built up on the river banks. It loses its 

 tempestuous character further below and flows along sluggishly, 

 under the name Aruwimi, its dark waters forming falls as it 

 nears the valley. There its navigability begins anew, and we 

 found twenty canoes waiting to carry us to the Congo. 



After three-quarters of an hour's ride we arrived at Kifuku, 

 our point of embarkation. The rocks there jut far out into the 

 river, and with the dark waters swirling around them form a 

 picturesque feature. The oarsmen bustled about briskly here and 

 there, picking up tents and provisions and stowing them in the 

 boats. A crowd of folk who had followed us out of curiosity 

 loitered round. A few Arabs, the last representatives of that 

 arrogant race which once held sway in Africa, greeted us and 

 handed us gifts of carved ivory. The terrace-shaped banks 

 swarmed with throngs of people, gossiping, chattering, and 

 generally making a bedlam of the place with their hubbub as 

 the flotilla at length set out. The wildest confusion and most 

 deafening din prevailed. All the boats were trying to leave 

 at the same moment, and this caused them to jamb against each 

 other and crush the occupants, who started yelling. Some of 

 the oarsmen who arrived late swung themselves into the first 

 canoe that came handy, and jumped from boat to boat wildly 



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