I breathed again as the last man disappeared; but it had been a tight squeeze--and it was not finished yet. I owed my escape, or rather my respite, entirely to the superstitious fears of the armed villagers, for as to the fetish-man, he evidently was not imposed upon by my “make up.” He would now be, no doubt, excessively annoyed with me, and I very strongly suspected that he had recognised me. In any case it was practically certain that he would return, and more efficiently supported this time; and the only question was, how soon might I expect the next attack? The settlement was barely two miles distant, so that it would be possible for him to return in an hour if he could collect a suitable party; yet I hardly expected this, for the sun was just setting, and night attacks are not much in favour with African strategists. But while I was turning over these matters, I was making active preparations for my departure. The staging on which the canoe was built was originally close to the water’s edge, but I had afterwards extended it, forming “ways” (_i.e._ a launching slip-way) right into the water; and as the river had risen several inches since then, there was depth enough at its end for launching the loaded canoe into. I determined, therefore, to load the craft before launching her, as this would be quicker and more convenient than carrying the loads out to her as she floated in the stream. First I made the canoe fast to a post with a stout liana, which I belayed to a cleat in the well. Then I levered her up with a pole, and rubbed her keels with some fat that I had saved from my meals and stored in the brass pan, and the remainder I spread upon the transverse bars of the slip-way. She was now ready for her cargo, and I began forthwith to stow the bunches of manillas on either side of the inside keel, tying each bunch in its place with ends of lashing that I had left for the purpose, so that the cargo could not shift during the launch. This took me a considerable time, and it was dark long before I had finished. After the cargo came the stores--the tarry-looking joints of smoked meat, my two mats, the brass pan, fishhooks, needles, anchors, and a quantity of spare cordage. The lee-boards, mast, sail, paddle, and pole were already on board, as well as a sinker or drag--a log of hard wood weighted with stones, and fastened to a long, stout liana, which I intended to use for trailing along the bottom where the current was swift, to retard and steady the canoe, and hold her bows up stream as she drifted, thus enabling her to be steered with the rudder. When everything was on board, I placed an anchor, ready for dropping, on one bow, and the sinker on the other, belaying their respective cables to cleats in the well; so she was now fit to launch at a moment’s notice, and the tightness of the cord that held her to the post showed that she was ready to slide down the ways as soon as it was let go.