Wild Life under the Equator

Now I had just left the Island of Nengue Ngozo, and if your eyes could have reached that part of the world, you might have seen me still in the same little canoe, made of the trunk of a single tree, armed to the teeth, making for the Ikoi Creek, which was not far distant. (This creek is also marked on my large map published in my work called "Explorations in Equatorial Africa. ")

The canoe was going swiftly through the water, the wind was good, and soon after our departure we entered the creek. I felt anxious, for the Bakalai and Shekiani villages were at war with each other-a wild and treacherous set they are-and either tribe might have taken my canoe for that of their enemy, and so pounced upon us in great numbers and killed us all before we could let them know that we were strangers belonging to the Mpongwe tribe, their friends. I was watching continually to see if there were not some canoes in ambush. After a while the creek became narrower, the breeze ceased, the sail had to be furled along the mast, the men took to the paddles, and our canoe glided onward upon the waters of the Ikoi.