THE RIVER OF DOUBT 267 



descent was marked, and the swollen river raced along. 

 Several times we passed great whirlpools, sometimes shift- 

 ing, sometimes steady. Half a dozen times we ran over 

 rapids, and, although they were not high enough to have 

 been obstacles to loaded Canadian canoes, two of them were 

 serious to us. Our heavily laden, clumsy dugouts were 

 sunk to within three or four inches of the surface of the 

 river, and, although they were buoyed on each side with 

 bundles of burity-palm branch-stems, they shipped a great 

 deal of water in the rapids. The two biggest rapids we only 

 just made, and after each we had hastily to push ashore 

 in order to bail. In one set of big ripples or waves my 

 canoe was nearly swamped. In a wilderness, where what 

 is ahead is absolutely unknown, alike in terms of time, 

 space, and method — for we had no idea where we would 

 come out, how we would get out, or when we would get 

 out — it is of vital consequence not to lose one's outfit, 

 especially the provisions; and yet it is of only less conse- 

 quence to go as rapidly as possible lest all the provisions 

 be exhausted and the final stages of the expedition be ac- 

 complished by men weakened from semi-starvation, and 

 therefore ripe for disaster. On this occasion, of the two 

 hazards, we felt it necessary to risk running the rapids; 

 for our progress had been so very slow that unless we made 

 up the time, it was probable that we would be short of 

 food before we got where we could expect to procure any 

 more except what little the country, in the time of the 

 rains and floods, might yield. We ran until after five, so 

 that the work of pitching camp was finished in the dark. We 

 had made nearly sixteen kilometres in a direction slightly 

 east of north. This evening the air was fresh and cool. 



