Saved from the Sea; Or, The Loss of the Viper, and her Crew's Saharan Adventures

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Boxall approved of our plan of trying to find a canoe; or if not, of building a raft on which we might float down the stream until we could fall in with one; so we accordingly made our way at once to the bank of the river. It was not so broad as we expected to find it, yet the volume of water was sufficient to make us suppose that it flowed on in an uninterrupted course to the ocean. Of the character of the natives we knew nothing; indeed, we believed that no European had ever explored that part of the country. Selim alone could give us any information. His idea was that the people were among the most barbarous of any to be found on the borders of the Sahara. This was not satisfactory, but we could only hope that we might escape them.

“At all events,” observed Ben, “I have a notion that four Englishmen with a carbine, a large pistol, and a Turkish cutlass, backed by an honest black fellow with his bow and arrows, are a match for any number of savages; so if they come we must give them a thrashing—and that’s what I’ve got to say about the matter.”

Though not quite so confident as Ben, we hoped that we should be able to keep at bay any enemies who might attack us.

The bank of the river was thickly wooded, and we made but slow progress. Despairing at last of finding a canoe, we determined to build a raft. Reaching a part of the bank where a few feet of open ground gave us space to work, we commenced operations. My cutlass was invaluable, as it enabled us to cut down a number of young palms, the wood of which was soft and light. There were also plenty of creepers, which served instead of ropes for binding the logs together. We first placed a row of young trees side by side, and then secured another row at right angles upon them. By evening our raft was complete. We also provided ourselves with long poles, which would enable us to guide it in shallow water or keep it off overhanging trees; and, in addition, we formed five rough paddles—one being larger than the rest, for steering. We intended also to form a triangle, between which we could spread our shirts to serve as a sail should the wind be fair. Well satisfied with our day’s performance, we launched our raft, which had been built close to the water, and secured it to the bank. It floated us all well; and as it was likely to afford a more secure resting-place than the shore, we lay down on it to sleep—two of us at a time keeping watch, lest any wild beast might, attack us. But although lions were heard roaring all night long, and other strange sounds came out of the forest, we slept securely on our floating bed.

At daybreak, and in good spirits, we commenced our adventurous voyage. At first we floated tranquilly down the stream, having only occasionally to use our paddles to keep the raft off from the trunks of sunken trees—called snags, in America—which appeared above the water. In a short time, however, the current became more rapid, and we found, by the way the water leaped about, that we were being carried over a shallow part of the river. Our poles, too, showed that the depth was not above three or four feet. Presently the water became more shallow and more agitated, and we thought it wise to make for the bank. We were steering towards it, when the raft, striking an unseen rock, was whirled rapidly round and round: the water rushed over it, and we ourselves were swept off; while the raft, freed from our weight, was carried downwards, and quickly dashed to pieces among a number of rocks, over which the water furiously rushed, not a hundred yards below us. Happily we were all good swimmers, and we managed to reach shallow water and climb up the bank.

“What has become of our weapons?” was the first question we asked. They, with my Moorish sword, had been placed in the centre of the raft, and so had been lost. We had cause to be thankful however, for having escaped with our lives.

Undaunted by the accident, we determined to persevere, and to try and find a canoe in which to prosecute our voyage. Ben had saved one of the long poles, which, after sharpening at the end, would serve as a weapon—the only one we now possessed. Selim offered to supply us with bows and arrows, which might serve to kill birds for our meals. He showed himself one of the most active of the party, too, and as he went on ahead he looked into every little bay or hollow in which a canoe was likely to be concealed.

At length we caught sight of some low, conical-shaped, thatched huts in the distance, and Selim said he was sure he could find a canoe not far off from thence. The only doubt was whether he should take it without asking the owner’s leave, or try to obtain the loan of it: but then we had absolutely nothing to offer in return; and the natives might not only refuse to give it us, but might make us prisoners—and perhaps carry us back to the Arabs from whom we were escaping, or sell us to some other tribe.

“Beggars must not be choosers,” said Ben. “To my mind, if we can find a canoe, we have a right to her, considering that we have been kept in slavery, and worked pretty hard too, by the friends of these people.”

Certainly, I would rather have bought the canoe; but as that was out of the question, I could not help agreeing with Ben.