It was a bright moonlight night, and it was a
picturesque scene when the fleet of canoes started off amidst a regular
pandemonium of shouting and chatter. I do not suppose that this quiet
spot had ever before witnessed such a sight. We were off next morning
before sunrise, and continued our way in a dead calm and a blazing sun.
We soon caught up with our canoes, which had gone on in advance on the
previous night. A breeze sprang up and we made good progress under
sail, and soon left the canoes far behind. We saw plenty of large
crocodiles, and a persevering but much disappointed shark followed
us for some distance.
We camped that night just inside the mouth of the Barigi River, on the
very spot where Monckton was attacked the previous year by the Baruga
tribe. They had made a night attack upon him as he was encamped here
with his police, and had evidently expected to take him by surprise,
as they paddled quietly up. But he was ready for them, and gave the
leading canoe a volley, with the result that the river was soon full
of dead and wounded men, who were torn to pieces by the crocodiles. The
rest fled, but he captured their chief, who was wounded.
Upon our arrival late in the afternoon Acland and I started out with
our guns after pigeon, taking our boys and some armed police, as it
was not safe to venture far from the camp without protection.
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