194 A JOURNEY UP THE RIVER CONGO. 
It is on us, it is here! The men lie down cowering in the 
boat that they may offer no resistance to the fearful blast 
which all but overturns the canoe, and hurls on to us the 
white-capped waves which leap one over the other in their 
anxiety to swamp us. Still, from their crouching posture 
the men dig the paddles into the water, and seem to carve 
a way to the fast-approaching shore, aided somewhat by 
the wind which is sweeping us thither, Shall we escape ? 
It seems unhkely. A ereat hissing wall of rain advances 
towards us over the river, envelops, surrounds, and well- 
nigh overwhelms us. I feel crushed by the mass of water, 
my breath is gone, I am beaten into the trough of the 
canoe where the men lie exhausted, without other feelings 
than stolid resignation. 
I can distinguish nothing in the blinding rain, but I 
think I hear a despairing voice quite close. Suddenly we - 
bump on a log and find ourselves stranded on the shore, 
driven thither. by the wind, and at last in safety. The 
men jump out with expressions of devout thankfulness to 
their prophet, and Janssen is clutching me by the hand to 
drag me up the slimy bank, full of congratulations at our 
escape. All is well that ends well. In Africa dangers 
incurred are soon forgotten. When I have changed my 
clothes and had some hot coffee, I feel nothing more dis- 
agreeable than a glow from the dousing of cold rain, and 
almost forget that half an hour ago I thought myself 
doomed to feed the crocodiles of the Congo. As I am 
sipping my coffee, too, and chatting with Janssen about 
the leopard of last night and the means of shooting him, 
I notice in the glimpses of sky that are framed by the 
windows indications of approaching peace. The storm- — 
fiend, raised by the sun, is conquered by that luminary, 
and his ragged battalions, torn and rent, are being driven 
off by the “changeable wind, a fickle coadjutor that ever 
turns against you in the hour of defeat. Soon there is 
calm. The sun glancing radiantly in the rain-pools, lights _ 
up a somewhat “tearful scene, and the ground is strewn 
with leaves, branches, débris ‘of the forest carried at 
and thither by the wind. 
The later afternoon is mellow and fine. There is a 
vi i ” f — ¥ 
J ofa me a i 
