ON THE WATER 179 



shrill tongues, and then a long procession of wives 

 and daughters trotting to market, each balancing a 

 great, dripping basket on her comely head, while 

 the husbands and fathers go home to eat and sleep. 

 But there is none of that to-day. The silvery harvest 

 may go to destruction and the husbands and fathers 

 can do without sleep for once. The children are 

 taken on board in all their finery, and friends 

 join and musicians with their instruments. Then 

 all sails are spread again and the boats start for 

 a circuit round the harbour. The wind blows fiercely 

 from the north, and each buoyant muchwa scuds 

 along at a fearful pace, heeling over until the 

 rippling water fingers the edge of the gunwale as 

 if it were just getting ready to leap over and take 

 possession. But the hilarious Koli balances himself 

 on the sloping thwarts and jumps and sings and 

 claps his hands, while the pipes screech and the 

 drums rattle. Twice, or three times, does the whole 

 fleet go out over the bar and wheel and return, 

 each boat racing to be first, with no more sense of 

 danger than a porpoise at play. 



At last they have had enough. The sails are 

 furled and the boats beached, the big fishes are 

 taken down from the bows, and the whole crowd, 

 with their trophies and garlands, dance their way to 

 the village. There it is better that we leave them. 

 To-night great fires will be lighted in the middle of 

 the main road and capacious pots of toddy will be 

 at hand, and every merry Kofi will get hilariously 



