I was told I must get what rest I could, as the next day we should have to travel far, and we should start very early. So I went to the hut which had been assigned to me and lay down; but I could not sleep, and wondered what possibly could be my future. Evidently I had not been recognized by those on board the Petrel, or my father would never have left the river without an attempt to rescue me. Now I was apparently going to be sent away into the interior, and how I should ever reach the coast again, or get back to England, seemed a mystery. I remembered, however, what I had heard about Livingstone, and thought that, like him, I should keep up a brave heart, and by God’s mercy I might ultimately return home in safety. As I thought of this I remembered I had been neglecting my prayers very much, and so getting off the couch on which I was lying, I knelt and prayed long and heartily for protection, not forgetting to return thanks for the many mercies which had been vouchsafed to me.
When I had finished I heard a noise outside, and trying to open the door of my hut, I found it fastened on the outside. I looked through some chinks in the wall, and I saw that the principal fetichman was alone
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in the middle of the village, close to the entrance to the inner enclosure, and was going through some mysterious performances. All the huts were closed, and the only light was that afforded by a small fire.
I watched him for some time whilst he poured from a goat’s horn some fluid into his left hand, and carefully watching the drops as they fell, chanted all the time in a curious kind of a monotone. Evidently he was much puzzled, for sometimes he seemed displeased, and at others he smiled. At last he jumped up and gave a great shout, and running round unfastened the doors of the huts, calling to the inmates to come out.