awaited us with its eight rowers was not inviting. Aided by a friendly ship's officer and the strong brown arm of the Muckwa captain, we and our luggage were safely transferred. With short vigorous strokes of their spade-like oars the boatmen sent us landward. The captain, who took the helm, shouted to his crew; they responded in a monotonous chant by which they marked time. The boat climbed the large rollers and dipped into the hollows. The boom of the surf upon the shore grew louder as we approached the dreaded barrier. At a signal from the commodore the rowers stopped, and we lay outside the white line for the space of a minute or two. The panting oarsmen recovered their breath, and gathered their energies for the final effort which was to bring us safe to land.
Everything depended upon the boatmen. With oars in the heaving sea they held up the boat until the advent of a larger wave than usual. At the word of command they bent to their work with might and main, straining every muscle in one supreme effort, and shouting their inarticulate refrain. We were caught on the crest of the roller and driven forward with the impetus of the breaking wave, which crumbled beneath the keel into hissing foam. A glance backward showed a second roller almost as big as the first. It towered above the boat, now helpless in the boiling surf, and threatened to overwhelm it immediately, but the boatmen were too quick for the curling wall of water. At a shout from their captain they abandoned their oars and plunged waist-deep into surf hauling us onwards. The roller fell, seething but harmless, just short of our stern. To my inexperienced eyes it seemed a hairbreadth escape, but the Muckwa captain showed no want of confidence in his men. With each breaking wave a rush of water tossed us onward, until we were safely grounded in the long sweep of foam
