AFRICAN CAMP FIRES 



We embarked about noon, storing our native 

 carriers and effects aboard a dhow hired for the 

 occasion. This we purposed towing. A very neatly 

 uniformed Swahili bearing on his stomach a highly 

 polished brass label as big as a door plate — "Harbour 

 Police" — threw duck fits over what he called 

 overloading the boat. He knew very little about 

 boats, but threw very competent duck fits. As we 

 did know something about boats we braved unknown 

 consequences by disregarding him utterly. No 

 consequences ensued; unless perhaps to his own 

 health. When everything was aboard, that dhow 

 was pretty well down, but still well afloat. Then we 

 white men took our places in the launch. 



This was a long narrow affair with a four-cylinder 

 thirty-horsepower engine. As she possessed no 

 speed gears, she had either plunge ahead full speed 

 or come to a stop; there were no compromises. Her 

 steering was managed by a tiller instead of a wheel; 

 so that a mere touch sufficed to swerve her ten feet 

 from her course. As the dhow was in no respect 

 built on such nervous lines, she did occasionally 

 some fancy and splashing curves. 



The pilot of the launch turned out to'be a sandy- 

 haired Yankee who had been catching wild animals 

 for Barnum & Bailey's Circus. While waiting for 

 his ship, he, being a proverbial handy Yankee, had 



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