It had been my intention when I landed at Victoria either to procure a canoe and go round into that black mud mangrove-swamp-fringed river the Rio del Rey, or to get the Ambas Bay Trading Company to run me round to their trading station in that river on their little steamer. Once in the Rio del Rey I knew I could get a canoe to paddle me through the creek into the Akwayafe river, a fourteen hours' paddle. And then I expected to be able to get up in a canoe to that remarkable gentleman, Mr. Holmes, who, I was confident, would send me round somehow into the Calabar, if I could only make him hear that I wanted to go there.

Had the desire to get myself killed, with which I am constantly being taxed, been my real and only motive for going to West Africa, I should have rigidly adhered to this fine variegated plan, all the more so, because Herr von Lucke said it was highly dangerous during the tornado season to go in the open and deep sea round from Victoria to Rio del Rey in a canoe, because of the violent storms that sweep down suddenly from the mountain and the unhandiness of the native craft.