The canoe rocked violently, filled, turned over, and floated wrong side up.
"All the same," laughed Will, spluttering and spitting dirty water, "here's where the crocks get fooled! They don't eat me for supper!" He was first on top of the overturned boat, and dragged me up after him.

Together we hauled up Brown, who could not swim but was bombastically furious and unafraid; and the three of us pulled out the porters and the fatuous boat's owner.

The pole was floating near by, and I swam down-stream and fetched it.

When they had dragged me back on to the wreck the moon came out, and we saw the far bank hazily through mist and papyrus.
The boat floated far more steadily wrong side up, perhaps because we had lashed all our loads in place and they acted as ballast.

Will took the pole and acted the part of Charon, our proper pilot contenting himself with perching on the rear end lamenting the ill-fortune noisily until Kazimoto struck him and threatened to throw him back into the water.
"They don't want a fool like you in the other world," he assured him.
"You will die of old age!" The papyrus inshore was high enough to screen the moon from us, and we had to hunt a passage through it in pitch darkness.