Both men discarded most of their clothing, for, as the wreck carried them down the smooth slides over the ledges of rock--for all the world like weirs--the boat was continually being sucked under the surface of the water. When this happened and they were unable to retain their hold, it was only by swimming with all their strength that they were able to regain the boat when she rose again. Their baggage and cherished war trophies had all been thrown into the water, and most of them went straight to the bottom. But here and there they could see saddles, valises, boxes, helmets, and other articles bobbing about in the current until hurled against the rocks and destroyed, or detained far behind in eddies. [Illustration: “ON AND ON THE BOAT CARRIED THEM, SEEMINGLY ENDOWED WITH HUMAN INTELLIGENCE AS IT DODGED THE ROCKS.”] On and on the boat carried them, seemingly endowed with human intelligence as it dodged the rocks and found a way for itself through the intricate channels of the cataract, while the shipwrecked crew could but cling to the gunwale with all their strength and trust to Providence for their ultimate safety. In this way mile after mile of the cataract was passed, with Mr. Sheldon and his companions hoping against hope that the current would take them near enough to the shore to swim for it. In this, however, they were disappointed, for their craft kept well in the middle of the stream. Presently, moreover, they drifted into another and worse rapid, where, caught suddenly in a huge eddy, they were carried round and round until the boat, after twisting and ducking in a manner that threatened to break it up, incontinently sank beneath them--for good and all, it seemed. This time it was a swim for life, and they were all but exhausted when, dazed and spluttering, they succeeded in once more regaining the boat, which had come up, in this instance, behind them. The principal danger they feared was that the boat, which was continually swinging round, would drift broad-side on to the rocks and break up completely. Again and again, as they continued their mad career, a huge boulder would loom up threateningly from out a smother of foam, and it looked as though nothing could save the wreck from final disaster, but invariably the self-navigated vessel would win a way for itself, at times actually shaving the very side of the rock. During their passage down the cataract the artists saw several native villages and also some large ghyassas (native boats) drawn up on the bank, but their frantic signals for help were either absolutely ignored, or the natives, in their usual way, expended their energy in urging one another to do something until the capsized boat was far out of sight. Hour after hour they raced along--sometimes for a mile or two in comparatively easy water, but more often struggling to retain their hold as the vessel rolled and pitched in the rapids.