Again I hurried up to the cries, and distinguished two men paddling vigorously, while five were baling. I was thinking how I could possibly assist them, when other cries broke out: “The boat! Bring the boat here! Oh, hurry—the boat, the boat!” Then another broke out, “And we are sinking—the water is up to our knees. Come to us, master, or we die! Bring the boat, my master!” It was evident that a panic was raging amongst the timid souls, that the people were rapidly becoming utterly unnerved. In reply to their frenzied cries, and as the only way to save us all, I shouted out sternly: “You who would save yourselves, follow me to the islets as fast as you can; and you who are crying out, cling to your canoes until we return.” We rowed hard. The moon rose also, and cheered us in half an hour with a sight of Miandereh, for which we steered. Her brightness had also the effect of rousing up the spirits of the Wangwana; but still the piteous cries were heard far behind: “Master! oh, master! bring your boat—the boat.” “Hark to them, my boys—hark,” I sang out to my crew, and they responded to my appeal by causing the _Lady Alice_ to fly through the water, though the waves almost curled over her sides. “Pull, my men; break your oars; shoot her through the water; life and death hang on your efforts. Pull like heroes.” She hissed through the waves, as ten men, bending with the wildest, most desperate effort, spurred her with their oars. Miandereh islets rose larger and clearer into view. “Hurrah, my boys, here is our island! pull and defy the black water—your brothers are drowning!” We reached Miandereh—shot the goods out, lightened her of the wrecked men, and flew back again, skimming over the dark surface. There were two brothers who had been made coxswains of canoes, who came prominently into notice on this terrible night. Each had his special crew, friends and people of the same tribe, and their names were Uledi and Shumari; the former about twenty-five years old, the latter eighteen. As I was returning with my boat to the scene, two canoes passed me like arrows. “Who go there?” I demanded. “Uledi and Shumari’s canoes,” replied somebody. “Return instantly, after unloading, to save the people.” “It is what we intend to do, Inshallah!” answered a voice. “Fine fellows those, I warrant them,” I thought. “Their very action and tone reveal their brave spirits.” Away we flew to the rescue, blowing the bugle to announce our approach. We passed three or four canoes, racing by us to the islets. Thank Heaven, the lake was calm, and the moon shone clear and strong, casting a golden light upon the waters.