The last night passed at kotta Djangkan was of marvellous activity, and when day at last broke forth all was ready for departure. Only the guns which for safety had been left in the batteries over night had to be embarked. The lusty arms of our Europeans soon settled this difficulty, and a leave-taking commenced which promised to be interminable, until Johannes, pointing his finger towards the south, suddenly cried out: “Banama Asep! Banama Asep!!” a fire ship, a fire ship. A cloud of smoke was indeed seen above the edge of the forest towards the south. All instantly took their places in the boats and in less time than it takes to narrate, the ten rangkans, containing one hundred and sixty five persons, the grand total of the emigration, had left the shore with all their goods and chattels. The oars clave the waters forcibly and the light vessels sped onwards. A hurrah was given by the travellers and responded to by those their late companions, and the kotta which had so hospitably received our adventurers was left behind. The country gradually became wilder, the banks loftier, sometimes hanging over as if threatening death and destruction. The river still preserved its unruffled surface, indicating the evenness of its bed. Although the stream rushed along with increased speed it continued to be perfectly navigable; here and there whirlpools were to be observed as the water rushed over detached pieces of chalk, but these could be avoided with care. The Kapoeas was still a stream in which a small steamer, drawing six feet of water, could find no difficulty in manœuvring. After a couple of hours’ towing they reached Batoe Sambong. Amai Kotong went ashore here for a few minutes to take leave of the Chief of the Kampong, with whom he had lived in peace for many years. The inhabitants of the kotta, interested in the travellers, came out in a body and offered them cakes and toeak, both of which were gratefully received not only by La Cueille but also by the women, who according to their limited powers had taken their share in the rowing. This pause on their journey did not occupy more than half an hour, but it seemed an age to Johannes, who did not feel safe until they had passed that barrier for steamers, the first cataract. Once beyond that, an hour or so would be of little importance as the fugitives could be no longer overtaken. Until then his motto was: “Forwards! forwards!!”