The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 
there. The next morning we started down the 
river, the stream not being nearly so strong or 
so high as when we came up it. I sat in the 
stern of the boat, facing the bows, with a pair of 
short sculls in my hands, whilst Shanghai pulled 
the longer oars in the ordinary way, Hunter and 
Elia having charge of the other boat. In the 
stream we were continually having to dodge 
rocks that just showed their ugly heads above 
water—this is where the short oars I used were 
of assistance. When it was necessary for Shanghai 
to cease rowing, I could, with a sharp push 
with one or other of my oars, avoid these ob- 
stacles successfully. Once my big boat nearly 
came to grief, for I hit a sunken rock heavily, 
which shook us up badly from stem to stern: 
The boat hung for a few moments fast on the 
rock, but when the current swung her stern 
round, she floated off again without doing us— 
any serious harm. About midday we came to 
the rapids. It was not possible to steer the 
boats down these foaming torrents, so the long 
tow-rope was made fast, and we let down each 
boat separately. It was an awkward place to 
negotiate at any time, for the water close in was 
very shoal, and where it suddenly grew deeper 
the waves were uncomfortably big. We let 
down my boat first. I grounded three or four 
times slightly, but not sufficiently fast to prevent 
my pushing her off with an oar. At one place 
274 
