up the river.

For the first twelve miles or so our course was the same as that which
we had followed in our memorable expedition to attack Chango Creek; the
river being, up to that point, about three miles wide, with a fine deep
channel averaging perhaps a quarter of that width up as far as abreast
the southern extremity of Monpanga island, where this deep channel
terminates, and the average depth of the entire stream dwindles to about
six fathoms for the next fourteen miles, the channel at the same time
narrowing down to a width varying from about two miles to less than
half-a-mile in some parts, notably at the spot where it begins to thread
its devious way among the islands that cumber the stream for a length of
fully thirty miles, at a distance of about twenty-eight miles from Shark
Point.

By carrying a press of sail, and hugging the northern bank, keeping as
close to the shore as our little draught of water would permit, thus to
a great extent cheating the current, we contrived to get as far as the
spot where the above-mentioned chain of islands commences; and there,
the wind failing us toward sunset, we came to an anchor close to the
southern shore, on a sand-bank, in three fathoms, under the lee of a
large island that sheltered us from the rush of the main current; and
there we remained all night, a strict anchor-watch of course being kept
not only to see that the schooner did not drive from her berth, but also
to guard against possible attack on the part of the natives. In this
spot, to my inexpressible chagrin, we were compelled to spend the
following two days, the wind blowing down the river, when it blew at
all, a little variety being infused into the weather by the outburst of
a most terrific thunderstorm which brought with it a perfect hurricane
of wind and a deluge of rain; after which we again got a fair wind and
were able to pursue our way for a time, getting ashore occasionally upon
unsuspected sand-banks, but always contriving to heave off again,
undamaged, thanks to the fact that we were proceeding up-stream against
the current instead of down-stream with it. And--not to dwell unduly
upon incidents that were exciting enough to us, although the recital of
them would prove of but little interest to the reader--in this way we
contrived to creep up the river the hundred and twelve miles or so that
were necessary to bring us to Matadi's town--having passed, and with
some difficulty avoided, two whirlp