CHAP. Ill 
IN PERIL OF WATERS 
29 
verandah we stood and watched the river gradually 
widening, and the howling winds and distant roar of 
the rising water sounded very ominous for our journey 
next day. It was much worse when we had really to 
face it, and with lanterns in hand (at that early hour in 
the morning) we waded and slipped down to the bank. 
The river had risen thirty feet in the night and looked 
very black and angry ; neither threats nor persuasions 
would induce the Kanakas to launch the big boat, and 
the only other one was a cockle-shell of a thing that 
would barely hold the three of us — a black boy (the 
only staunch one among them) and our two selves. 
At the first push out from the shore, a fallen tree 
nearly swamped us, and while Mr. N. steered I baled 
out the water ; in a few minutes we had not a dry 
article on us, and the rain from my bent hat was 
running in a stream down my back. Our Kanaka was 
firmly convinced that his last hour had come, and roared 
lustily, “ Me no want sit along below a river ” — which 
being interpreted means that he didn't like being 
drowned. Every now and then we were lifted on the 
crest of a wave (which meant logs underneath) then 
swung down again into a small whirlpool, the force of 
the leaping waters nearly swamping us. 
I do not think we had realised until then the utter 
helplessness of that tiny boat in the rushing force of 
the swollen river. Each fresh wave seemed to send a 
shiver through it, and, like a living thing, it trembled 
with the fear of impending dissolution ; wind, water, 
and clouds seemed to sweep past in a wild race, and 
the thought of alligators (who in flood times are 
most enterprising) did not add to our comfort. Now 
the current swept us round a sharp corner, and we 
found ourselves close under the bank. There was a 
nasty grating sound underneath, and in a second the 
