Homeward Bound 253 



it has a width of i,ooo metres — it flows along quietly and 

 lazily, but where its waters are straitened and narrowly confined 

 by islands it shoots impetuously in foaming cataracts. 



We ended our first day's trip, which lasted nine hours, at 

 Bosobangi, where there is one of these rapids. At this spot 

 the river has a fall of three metres and becomes a cascade. As 

 the boats had, of course, to pass this, they were emptied, and the 

 natives of Bosobangi, who were familiar with this kind of work, 

 carried the goods, which were heaped up on the bank, round 

 the waterfall by a narrow path. We then took up our stand 

 on a projecting slab of rock and trained our cinematograph on 

 the foaming froth of waters. At a given signal each boat, 

 manned by two men only, approached the chute in turn, and with 

 the speed of an arrow shot down the seething waters. 



Thrilling as the spectacle may be, the shooting of the cataracts 

 itself is far from being the most agreeable of sensations, as 

 there is always a danger of capsizing. A slight miscalculation 

 of direction, or a cross-course taken by the boat, may result 

 in catastrophe. 



We experienced this on the second day. I was sitting in 

 my canoe at the head of the flotilla, the other boats following 

 at irregular intervals, when we came to another rapid, which 

 we could discern from afar by the white froth on the crests of 

 the waves. On approaching dangerous spots the Wangilima 

 were in the habit of taking an experienced pilot on board from 

 one or other of the many neighbouring villages. As this course 

 was not pursued in the present instance — although the river was 

 at high-water mark — it was a quieting indication that the passage 

 offered no difficulty. We approached nearer and nearer the 

 rapids, and soon heard the rushing of the waters. The singing 

 ceased, the men shipped their oars ; their whole duty now con- 

 sisted in keeping the boat in the fairway. Involuntarily we sat 

 erect and grasped the gunwale with our hands. A slight feeling 

 of uneasiness made itself felt in the epigastric region. We 

 reached the brink of the cascade, the canoe tipped lightly up 

 at the stem and shot with a mad rush through the raging torrent. 



