A Basket Constructed For Catching Human Souls In,
Given Me As A Farewell Gift By A Valued Friend, A Witch
Doctor, and
in which I kept the few things in life I really cared for, i.e. my
brush, comb,
Tooth brush, and pocket handkerchiefs, went over the
stern; while I was recovering this with my fishing line (such was
the excellent nature of the thing, I am glad to say it floated) a
black bag with my blouses and such essentials went away to leeward.
Obanjo recovered that, but meanwhile my little portmanteau
containing my papers and trade tobacco slid off to leeward; and as
it also contained geological specimens of the Sierra del Cristal, a
massive range of mountains, it must have hopelessly sunk had it not
been for the big black, who grabbed it. All my bedding, six Equetta
cloths, given me by Mr. Hamilton in Opobo River before I came South,
did get away successfully, but were picked up by means of the
fishing line, wet but safe. After this I did not attempt any more
Roman reclining couch luxuries, but stowed all my loose gear under
the bamboo staging, and spent the night on the top of the stage,
dozing precariously with my head on my knees.
When the morning broke, looking seaward I saw the welcome forms of
Konig (Dambe) and Perroquet (Mbini) Islands away in the distance,
looking, as is their wont, like two lumps of cloud that have dropped
on to the broad Gaboon, and I felt that I was at last getting near
something worth reaching, i.e. Glass, which though still out of
sight, I knew lay away to the west of those islands on the northern
shore of the estuary. And if any one had given me the choice of
being in Glass within twenty-four hours from the mouth of the
Rembwe, or in Paris or London in a week, I would have chosen Glass
without a moment's hesitation. Much as I dislike West Coast towns
as a general rule, there are exceptions, and of all exceptions, the
one I like most is undoubtedly Glass Gaboon; and its charms loomed
large on that dank chilly morning after a night spent on a bamboo
staging in an unfinished native canoe.
The Rembwe, like the 'Como, is said to rise in the Sierra del
Cristal. It is navigable to a place called Isango which is above
Agonjo; just above Agonjo it receives an affluent on its southern
bank and runs through mountain country, where its course is blocked
by rapids for anything but small canoes. Obanjo did not seem to
think this mattered, as there was not much trade up there, and
therefore no particular reason why any one should want to go higher
up. Moreover he said the natives were an exceedingly bad lot; but
Obanjo usually thinks badly of the bush natives in these regions.
Anyhow they are Fans - and Fans are Fans. He was anxious for me,
however, to start on a trading voyage with him up another river, a
notorious river, in the neighbouring Spanish territory. The idea
was I should buy goods at Glass and we should go together and he
would buy ivory with them in the interior. I anxiously inquired
where my profits were to come in. Obanjo who had all the time
suspected me of having trade motives, artfully said, "What for you
come across from Ogowe? You say, see this country. Ah! I say you
come with me. I show you plenty country, plenty men, elephants,
leopards, gorillas. Oh! plenty thing. Then you say where's my
trade?" I disclaimed trade motives in a lordly way. Then says he,
"You come with me up there." I said I'd see about it later on, for
the present I had seen enough men, elephants, gorillas and leopards,
and I preferred to go into wild districts under the French flag to
any flag. I am still thinking about taking that voyage, but I'll
not march through Coventry with the crew we had down the Rembwe -
that's flat, as Sir John Falstaff says. Picture to yourselves, my
friends, the charming situation of being up a river surrounded by
rapacious savages with a lot of valuable goods in a canoe and with
only a crew to defend them possessed of such fighting mettle as our
crew had demonstrated themselves to be. Obanjo might be all right,
would be I dare say; but suppose he got shot and you had eighteen
stone odd of him thrown on your hands in addition to your other
little worries. There is little doubt such an excursion would be
rich in incident and highly interesting, but I am sure it would be,
from a commercial point of view, a failure.
Trade has a fascination for me, and going transversely across the
nine-mile-broad rough Gaboon estuary in an unfinished canoe with an
inefficient counterpane sail has none; but I return duty bound to
this unpleasant subject. We started very early in the morning. We
reached the other side entangled in the trailing garments of the
night. I was thankful during that broiling hot day of one thing,
and that was that if Sister Ann was looking out across the river, as
was Sister Ann's invariable way of spending spare moments, Sister
Ann would never think I was in a canoe that made such audaciously
bad tacks, missed stays, got into irons, and in general behaved in a
way that ought to have lost her captain his certificate. Just as
the night came down, however, we reached the northern shore of the
Grand Gaboon at Dongila, just off the mouth of the 'Como, still some
eleven miles east of Konig Island, and further still from Glass, but
on the same side of the river, which seemed good work. The
foreshore here is very rocky, so we could not go close alongside but
anchored out among the rocks. At this place there is a considerable
village and a station of the Roman Catholic Mission.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 101 of 190
Words from 102302 to 103312
of 194943