The canoe was large and there were plenty of paddles, so I took with me every man on board except Toko, whom I left in charge of the _Dorothy_, to spend what I supposed would be the longest and most miserable day of his life. For I knew that we would not be back before midnight; and although the bay was now like glass the sea-breeze would rise about ten o’clock and increase all day long. The _Dorothy_ was anchored in a very bad place and it was enough to make one sick in anticipation. But it was necessary that some one should remain in charge, and I was so indignant at Toko for his neglect that I had no compunction of conscience, but inwardly gloated like a cannibal over a feast. We are all cannibals by instinct when it comes to eating our enemies. The sea-breeze later in the day became almost a gale, and was directly against us; the waves were soon crested with whitecaps and grew bigger and bigger. It took the combined strength of six men with paddles to make any headway in the last several hours. I felt quite safe, for Ndong Koni whom we had picked up along the way was steersman. The skill of the natives in canoeing—their instinctive balancing, their knowledge of the waves, and the proper way to receive each wave is marvellous; for of a hundred waves no two may be alike. The degree of tendency to careen at the stroke of each wave, or (if the sea is abeam) as the peak of the wave passes under the canoe, must be met by a dexterous stroke of the paddle of the steersman, or the counterpoise of the body. It is very exhilarating. Mind and muscle must act instantly. No sooner is one wave passed than the mind, dismissing it, leaps to the next encounter. One finds himself personifying the waves and regarding them as personal enemies whom he must fight or die. But our canoe was large, and strength as much as skill kept us from being swamped. We reached Gaboon late in the afternoon and having procured gasoline and rigged our largest sailboat, the _Lafayette_, we immediately started back to the _Dorothy_. It was a wild night and very dark; but the wind was favourable, and there was not on all the coast of West Africa a better sailing boat of its size than the _Lafayette_. Many a night I have sailed in her on the open sea, to Corisco and Benito, sometimes when the night was pitch dark and the wind howling. Such a situation is far from conducive to sleep. But I had great confidence in the _Lafayette_. She combined speed and daring with amiability and was a boat to admire and love.