"During the early rains of 1913, I was living twenty-five miles outside the township of Fort Jameson, N.E. Rhodesia, almost on the borders of Nyassaland, growing tobacco.
One Saturday a piccanin (native servant) came along carrying a letter in a cleft stick. It was from a prospector who was camped about seven miles away, asking if I could let him have some fresh milk. I had no cows at the time, but I sent him a tin of condensed milk. I also sent a letter back saying that I would come over and see him on the following day.
The next morning, I got up and well remember dressing myself with extra care. Our usual costume was shorts, shirt with sleeves cut short, socks, boots, and helmet; but on this particular morning I put on a shirt with long sleeves and rolled them up. Having had an early breakfast, I took my rifle and started off.
About two miles from my place, I had to pass a watercourse with hills on either side, and when I reached it I found that the natives had put a very flimsy wooden bridge across to enable them to get their sheep and goats from one side to the other. As I carefully crossed the bridge, I looked down into the watercourse, but there was only a small trickle of water running below.
Before I reached my destination, a heavy storm broke, and in a few seconds I was drenched to the skin. The prospector's abode was not of a very pretentious nature. A buck sail swung over a pole and held out by pegs. He had an old four-gallon paraffin tin with holes punched in it, and in the tin were wood embers which gave out a cheerful glow. After the usual greetings he insisted on my taking off my wet clothes and wrapping myself in one of his blankets, while he hung the clothes near the fire to dry. Later on he made me have something to eat, although his store was, I felt sure, very scantily provided.
About 3 p.m. I decided to return. The rain was still coming down as hard as ever, and, although my friend tried to persuade me to stay, I felt I had better return to my own abode, more especially as I had a lot of boys (natives of any age) to start work in the morning. Also, I knew that when I got home I had dry clothes and a hot bath awaiting me.
Saying farewell to my friend, I started off. My clothes had not dried too thoroughly, but that was a small matter, as before I had gone many yards, they were again soaked through.
Just before 5 p.m. I reached the watercourse, but to my surprise I found that the river had risen quite ten feet since the morning and the bridge had been swept away. The stream was coming down a surging, roaring, muddy torrent.
Well, something had to be decided quickly. The sun was well away to the west. Lions and leopards in that part were plentiful, and there was I, wet through, matches wet, standing still, and beginning to feel cold. Going back five miles never entered my head, I felt I must get across. I knew that if I followed the stream down, it would get stronger, so my only chance was to go up-stream. This I did for about fifty yards, when I saw a bough from a tree on my side resting on the far bank.
'Tis easy to be wise after an event, and what I should have done before starting on this dangerous crossing, was to take my rifle off my back and to get rid of my boots, and thus lighten the load.
Instead of this, I started to go hand over hand along the bough. As one can imagine, directly my feet got into the current of the stream, the strain on the bough was too much for it. I was about half-way across, when suddenly the bough broke. As I reached the water I seemed to be carried down at express train speed. Just think of my position! Face downwards, feet first, and a heavy rifle on my back!
How long I was under water I do not know, but I quickly realized the futility of trying to swim, or indeed to do anything. Suddenly, my rolled-up sleeve caught in the root of a tree, and I was swung right round. Truly, as a drowning man clutches at a straw, I clutched at that root, and at the same time I gave myself an upward push, and I was saved!
I had been carried to the further bank about fifty yards lower down, I crawled out, knelt down on the soaking ground, and, in the pouring rain, I thanked God for having saved my life."