This was ill-luck, as our strength combined was not sufficient for the work we had to do, and now the loss of one man—the best of my followers—was an extra trial at the most inopportune moment.
The canoe, too, was in a wretched condition after all the many accidents we had had, and we possessed no more tar, and could spare no more clothes, to stop up the leakages which were now plentiful all over her bottom.
The day of July 31st was thus absolutely lost. I was on the verge of abandoning the canoe there altogether and attempting to get down along the banks of the river on foot—which would have been almost suicidal, as we never could have reached a place of safety.
Night came. At sunset we had the usual concert of mosquitoes, all kinds of insects and frogs, in such innumerable quantities that the din made by them collectively was so loud as to resemble the sound of an iron foundry or a battle-ship in course of construction, the sounds produced by the millions of nocturnal singers being quite metallic and reproducing exactly the sound of hammers driving rivets into the steel plates of a ship. Whether it was done purposely or accidentally I do not know, but those little water creatures of the Arinos seemed to keep excellent time, their vigour also being most enviable.
On August 1st we had a minimum temperature of 64° F. during the night.
I still saw that it was out of the question to endeavour to take the canoe over the immense boulders and over the hill range. One faint hope, involving very great danger, loomed in my mind. If we could only cross the river just above the fearsome channel we could perhaps on the other side take down the canoe by water. This plan required great smartness, as, had we miscalculated the speed of the river and the rate at which we could travel across that dangerous water, it would surely mean certain death.
I spoke to my men about it. They said they were ready to go. I explained to them that they must paddle their hardest and not give way for a second until we had got diagonally across the fairly still waters only a few yards above the awful channel. Should we by misfortune be dragged into that channel by the current we might as well say good-bye to the world.
When we started on that job we risked everything. My men behaved splendidly that day. They paddled and paddled for all they were worth, to get across the hundred metres or so, and took the best part of half an hour in the formidable current. For a moment, when the canoe was in the centre where the current was strongest and we were making no headway, I saw a bad look-out for us. I urged them on with shouts of "Rema! rema!" (Row! row!) and at last, in a desperate effort, the canoe once more moved forward. It was a relief indeed when men and baggage were safely landed on the opposite side.
All were so exhausted that for a couple of hours it was out of the question to resume work. I occupied that time in taking observations for altitude and longitude, tortured to death as usual by the innumerable bees and piums. (Lat. 8° 54′·6 S.; long. 58° 51′ W.)
The temperature in the sun was 107° F. The red and black volcanic rocks radiated such heat that we were nearly stifled in the enclosed basin which was formed by the hill range.