Poor Damagondai was much troubled. He wanted no war. He sent his brother down with a plate, a mug, and a brass pan, to propitiate Oshoria. These were great presents. A plate, a mug, and a pan are thought to be very valuable in the regions of the Anengue.
I was very angry. I had done no harm to the people of Guabuirri; I had passed their village in peace. Oshoria wanted to exact tribute for my passage; but he was not the king of the country, and I determined to put down Mr. Oshoria.
We cleaned our guns, and I prepared my revolvers, and the next morning we set out, without waiting for the return of the king's brother, greatly to the dismay of Damagondai and of his peaceful people. But nothing must stop us. We must return to Washington. My men swore that they would fight to the death.
When we came in sight of Guabuirri, I saw that some of my fellows, who, a short time before, were going to be so brave, began to show the white feather. I therefore pointed to my revolver, and told them that I would blow out the brains of the first man who failed to fight to the last. They had a great respect for this wonderful revolver, and they immediately answered, "We are men."
So we pulled down the stream and soon came almost opposite Oshoria's people. I gave orders to make for the town. On the shore stood about one hundred and fifty fellows armed with spears and axes, and led by ten men who had guns. All of them were making a great noise.
My men were all well armed, and, if I remember well, there were only sixteen of us. I had my revolver in one hand and a double-barrelled gun in the other. The men all had guns, which were placed beside them in such a way that the natives on the shore could see them. At this piece of bravado, Oshoria's men became very civil. They retreated as we approached the landing; and instead of continuing their war-shouts and firing at us, they received us peaceably, and shouted to us not to fire.
Damagondai's brother hurried down to meet me, and announced that there was no palaver: I must not kill anybody. I was then led to where the quarrelsome Oshoria stood. Looking at him with a stern look, I reproached him for his conduct, telling him that if anybody had been killed, the palaver would have been on his own head. He said he had been vexed that I did not stop to see him on my way up; and, after making further excuses, added, "Aouè olomé," "thou art a man;" an expression used in several ways, either to designate a smart man or a rascal, or, in the best sense, a very brave man. I was content to accept it as an intended compliment.
I was presented with fruits and fowls, and we were presently the best of friends. To show them what I could do in the way of shooting, I brought down a little bird which sat on a very high tree. They all declared that I must have a very big shooting fetich; and they reverenced me greatly.
The next morning, I left Oshoria, and once more I glided down the placid waters of the Ogobai. I reached Washington in safety.