remony, and proved a most kindly old man. I
gladly rewarded him for his small presents of
food, and separated from him with feelings of
attachment.
Livingstone, who was here in May 1867, writes
of this plain and river as follows:—
“We came to a village about 2' west of the confluence.
The village has a meadow about four miles wide, in which
buffaloes disport themselves, but they are very wild, and
hide in the gigantic grasses. The Lofu—or Lofabu (Rufuvu)
—is a quarter of a mile wide, but higher up 300 yards.”
Between the 6th July 1876 and May 1867,
that is, in nine years’ time, the river Rufuvu has
encroached upon the “meadow” which Livingstone
saw by over a thousand yards!
It is true the plain or meadow is very low,
and that 2 feet more of a rise would extend
the river over half a mile more of ground, but
the proofs are gathering that the lake has been
steadily rising. What was meadow land in the
days when Livingstone made the acquaintance
of the people of Liende is now clear water half
covered with growths of pale-blue lotus. The
depth of the river in mid-channel is twenty-one
feet.
I should estimate the population of the plain
from Polombwe westward to where the river
narrows between the hills, a district of about
eight square miles, as about 2000 souls. We
heard of Wangwana and some Arabs camping
[Kasawa cipe.] A SOUTH-WESTER ON THE LAKE. 51
at a village called Kungwe higher up the river
on the left bank, but as we had no occasion
for their acquaintance we did not deem it necessary
to go through the form of visiting them.
On the 7th, soon after quitting the Rufuvu
river, we had a rough experience of the worst
Ma’anda— “ south-wester”-—Para or Ruango, our
guides; had ever been in. The Meofu was soon
disabled, for its rudder was swept away, but
being towed behind by a rope, it was fortunately
not lost, while our boat flew with double-reefed
lug over the wild waves like a seagull. The
tempest sang in our ears, and the waters hissed
as they flew by us with great high curling crests.
But Kasawa Cape was still before us, and no
shelter could be obtained until we had rounded
it. We shook a reef out, lest we might be
swamped, and the increased force swept us over
the topmost crests at such a speed as made
Para and Ruango set their teeth. The canoe
was out of sight; along the rock-bound shore
thundered the surf; the wind was rising into a
hurricane, but Kasawa was getting nearer to
view, and we held on with all sail. In fifteen
minutes we were safe behind the grey bluffs of
the headland, in a little creek amid a heap of
driftwood, and the haunt of hippopotamus- and
crocodile. I sent a land party back to hunt up
news of the missing canoe, and by night received
the glad news that soon after they were dis