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Langobumo, who was at the helm, began obeying, when I relieved him of his charge. Seeing that our course was unaltered, a large and well-manned canoe put off, and the rest of the population walked down shore. I made signs for the stranger not to approach, when the head man, Angilah, asked me in English what he had done to offend me, and peremptorily insisted upon my sleeping at his village.
So Langobumo was directed to declare that they had a "wicked white man" on board who e'en would gang his ane gait, who had no goods but weapons, and who wanted only to shoot a njina, and to visit Sanga-Tanga, where his brother "Mpolo" had been.
I suggested landing, but Langobumo was positive that the storm had passed westwards, and he objected, with some reason, that in the outer gloom the boat might be dashed to pieces. As we had not even a stone for an anchor, the plea proved, valid.
I complimented him upon his proficiency in lying, and poor Langobumo, almost in tears, confessed that he had pointed out to me the real place. Whereupon Hotaloya began pathetically to reproach him for being thus prodigal of the truth. Nurya, the "head trader," coming down to the beach, with dignity and in force told me in English that I must land, and was chaffed accordingly.
At the last, last moment, Langobumo, who was to accompany us, remembered that he had neither fine coat nor umbrella, indispensable for dignity, and highly necessary for the delicacy of his complexion, which was that of an elderly buffalo.
As our naked feet began to blister, we suddenly turned to the left, away from the sea; and, after crossing about 100 yards of prairillon, one of the prettiest of its kind, we found ourselves at Bwamange, the village of King Langobumo. It was then noon, and we had walked about three hours and a half in a general south-south-west direction.
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