Adventures in Mashonaland

? Livingstonian anecdote? Sir John Willoughby and monkey-nuts?Collapse of transport ? We must walk one hundred and ninety miles ? Opposition?The enemy routed?The Portuguese commandante?A Portuguese military hospital ?Departure of Consul?Wilkins in search of bearers ?His dramatic return?No money?Lieut. Robertson to the rescue. We were up betimes on the morning of Saturday the 13th of June, and ready and eager to start in the Shark, which steamed up alongside the Tyrian punctually at four o'clock. But a thick fog suddenly enveloped us, sweeping down the Piingw£ with magical swiftness, so that we had to curb our impatience and wait till nearly five. The fog then lifting a little, Captain Ewing decided on venturing up the river, as a longer delay meant losing the tide, and having to spend a night in the Shark. The little launch being the tiniest of steam-launches, in which we three, Captain Ewing, and two sailors, had barely room to sit, the prospect of a night on board was anything but pleasant. We started, puffing gaily away, and soon lost sight of the Tyrian, picking our way carefully amongst islands, which loomed dimly through the fog. After about an hour and a half the fog lightened, and then we discovered that we had somehow drifted round an island, and were rapidly returning to Beira. No sooner had we altered our course, making some advance up the river, than we stuck on one of the shifting sandbanks, which render the navigation of the Pungwe so troublesome...