At last, in June 1888, in spite of her fears, she resolved to go up and
make final arrangements for her sojourn.




II. IN THE ROYAL CANOE

She went up the river in state. Ever ready to do her a kindness, King
Eyo had provided her with the Royal canoe, a hollow tree-trunk twenty
feet long, and she lay in comfort under the cool cover of a framework
of palm leaves, freshly lopped from the tree, and shut off from the
crew by a gaudy curtain. Beneath was a piece of Brussels carpet, and
about her were arranged no fewer than six pillows, for the well-to-do
natives of Calabar made larger and more skilful use of these than the
Europeans.

The scene was one of quiet beauty; there was a clear sky and a windless
air; the banks of the river--high and dense masses of vegetation--
glowed with colour; the broad sweep of water was like a sheet of molten
silver and shimmered and eddied to the play of the gleaming paddles. As
they moved easily and swiftly along, the paddlemen, dressed in loin-
cloth and singlet, improvised blithe song in her praise. Strange and
primitive as were the conditions, she felt she would not have exchanged
them for all the luxuries of civilisation.

She needed sustenance, for there was trying work before her, and this a
paraffin stove, a pot of tea, a tin of stewed steak, and a loaf of
home-made bread gave her. Wise mental preparation also she needed, for