A great resounding cheer from both ship and shore mingled, rolling out over the darkening waters of the river, and echoed back by the forests along the bank.

Farther up two other boats--mere phantoms in their white paint--cast off also, and followed, their smoke wreaths trailing behind as they likewise turned their prows up stream.

Ten minutes later the three were almost in line, mere blobs of color, barely distinguishable through the descending dusk.
I swam slowly ashore, creeping up the low bank into the seclusion of a shallow, sandy gully, scooped out by the late rains.

The air was mild, and I experienced no chill from my wet clothes, the warmth of the sand helping to dry them on my body.

The river and sky were darkening fast, the more brilliant stars already visible.