The river is subject to great floods, and in the months of May and June the water is frequently forty feet above the lowest stage. In the dry season the channel is crooked and the current very rapid, but when the river is up the pilots pay little attention to the channel, but steer straight on, pretty much as they like. [Illustration: NATIVE BOAT ON THE IRRAWADDY.] The boys were much interested in the novel sights of the great river; they endeavored to keep an account of the number of native boats, but finally gave up the effort, as the craft were too numerous to be counted, and allow time for seeing anything else. The boats were of all sizes and kinds; they were generally built of teak, the best timber in the world for ships, and they rose high out of water at both bow and stern. They were generally roofed over in the centre and at the stern, and sometimes there were two or three roofs of different heights. The steersman was elevated under a canopy over the stern, and at a little distance he resembled an idol in a shrine. Many of the boats had tall masts for carrying a single square sail, such as the Chinese use, and of course they were not able to sail much into the wind. The captain told the boys that he had seen boats on the river with yards more than 100 feet long, and that 120 pulleys were needed to handle the sails properly. The larger boats had upper and studding sails, but all the rest had only the square sail. [Illustration: MALAY "SAMPAN" OR RIVER-BOAT.] Several times the "wash" or "back water" from the steamboat overturned the little row-boats that ventured too near. These boats were hewn from a single log, like the "dugouts" of the United States, and were very easy to upset when not skilfully managed. The occupants did not seem to care much for being spilled out, as they immediately turned their boats right side up, baled them out with their hands, and then sprung in and laughed, as though it was a good joke. When the boys called attention to the first of these overturns, the captain of the steamboat told them of a wholesale upsetting he witnessed at the time of the second Burmese war. "It was in front of Rangoon," said he, "and before we had actually begun to fight. The Governor of Rangoon was sending hostile messages, and we were sending equally hostile ones back, but not a shot had been fired. "One morning the governor thought he would astonish us with a show of his force, and sent out a flotilla of thirty war-boats: they had all the way from twenty to fifty rowers in each boat, and it was really a beautiful sight. On they came with flags flying, gongs beating, trumpets sounding, and swords and muskets flashing in the sun: they dashed through the water at a rapid rate, and if the governor was looking on from the shore, he must have been pleased at the display.