CHAPTER II 



OUR SAFARI 



At eleven a.m. the syren sounded, gangways were 

 removed, hawsers cast adrift, and to the steady thumping 

 of the screws we drew away from the shore. Mr. Fleisher, 

 an elephant hunter and slayer of big game, was travelling 

 with us en route for Uganda. Mr. Sydney Pearson, a 

 visitor to the country, one of the keenest sportsmen 

 extant, also added to the pleasures of the trip. Twelve 

 months ago polar bears were dropping to his gun, now he 

 was following the trails of Central Africa. Although 

 only three months in the country, Mr. Pearson had already 

 to his credit a heavy bag of game, both large and small. 

 He had secured a magnificent specimen of a black-maned 

 lion, equalling that shot by Captain Cowie, which now 

 adorns the billiard-room at his Nairobi residence. 



Swahili sailors have a curious preference for a ship 

 on which they get an occasional spell of drill, they will 

 even work for a lower wage, in order to be drilled, for 

 those queer people dearly love drilling. My " syce " 

 (mule boy) was mighty proud of a smattering of the words 

 of command, and frequently tried to imbue the whole 

 Safari (expedition) with a similar feeling of soldiering. 



The trip across the lake to Entebbe and Kampala 

 was very enjoyable. There were only five or six of us 

 passengers, making a very pleasant little party. At 

 night, according to custom, and in view of floating islands, 

 we anchored at ten p.m., remaining stationary until the 



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