After moving off again and descending very precipitately to the level of the lake, the heavy rains were found to have made marching exceedingly difficult. We had to plough through thick black mud till we reached Port Florence, a distance of twenty-one miles. At one point on the road a stream about thirty yards wide had to be waded, as our porters were unavailable for carrying, having all gone on in front. The water in some parts was a foot deep, and it was by no means an easy thing getting through it when there were inches of mud from which the boots very reluctantly parted. News had reached us that the steamboat _Ruwenzori_ which had been sent to meet us and take us across the lake had been wrecked on the way, so we had to put off in an Arab dhow, a sailing boat used for transport purposes only, and one that offered no passenger accommodation. Three thousand square miles! Can you imagine a lake about that size? And yet on our maps it is no larger than a boot button. Quiet and peaceful as is its normal condition, there are times when its mighty waters are lashed into uncomfortable anger, and casting up foaming crests break on the shore with the force and roar of an ocean’s storm. Abundant in its resources, it can afford to be generous in its supplies; with prodigality it pours its fulness into its offspring, so that distant Egypt subsists on its benevolence—the Nile. Although only 7 p.m., darkness had already set in as we made our way down to the rough landing-stage to be shipped for Uganda. The dhow looked uncomfortably small for its crew, seven English passengers, twelve “boys,” and all their cargo. It could not get up to the little wooden pier, so we rowed out in dug-out canoes by the light of a hand lamp. This took time, and it was nearly midnight before everything was on board. A small portion towards the stem had been reserved to our use for sleeping, feeding, and living purposes. One of the ground sheets of the tent was fixed up on four insecure poles to form an awning over us. Our sacks containing camp beds and blankets were placed about to act as bolsters as we lay down on the bare boards in the vain hope of sleeping. But they were the most bony bolsters I have ever known, for on whatever corner you took up your position, there was a point of the bedstead running into you. We were all glad when a sharp breeze sprang up in the early morning, and the sails that had been nodding all night braced themselves together for work.