'Patience. Ye shall hear. We followed the coast eastward sixteen days
(counting time by sword-cuts on the helm-rail) till we came to the
Forest in the Sea. Trees grew there out of mud, arched upon lean and
high roots, and many muddy waterways ran all whither into darkness,
under the trees. Here we lost the sun. We followed the winding channels
between the trees, and where we could not row we laid hold of the
crusted roots and hauled ourselves along. The water was foul, and great
glittering flies tormented us. Morning and evening a blue mist covered
the mud, which bred fevers. Four of our rowers sickened, and were bound
to their benches, lest they should leap overboard and be eaten by the
monsters of the mud. The Yellow Man lay sick beside the Wise Iron,
rolling his head and talking in his own tongue. Only the Bird throve.
She sat on Witta's shoulder and screamed in that noisome, silent
darkness. Yes; I think it was the silence we most feared.'

He paused to listen to the comfortable home noises of the brook.

'When we had lost count of time among those black gullies and swashes we
heard, as it were, a drum beat far off, and following it we broke into a
broad, brown river by a hut in a clearing among fields of pumpkins. We
thanked God to see the sun again. The people of the village gave the
good welcome, and Witta scratched his head at them (for gold), and
showed them our iron and beads. They ran to the bank--we were still in
the ship--and pointed to our swords and bows, for always when near shore
we lay armed. Soon they fetched store of gold in bars and in dust from
their huts, and some great blackened elephants' teeth. These they piled
on the bank, as though to tempt us, and made signs of dealing blows in
battle, and pointed up to the tree-tops, and to the forest behind. Their
captain or chief sorcerer then beat on his chest with his fists, and
gnashed his teeth.