We Made One Or Two Circles, Taking
On Water The While And Then Returned Into The South Bank Backwards.
At
That bank we wisely stayed for the night, our meeting with the
Gaboon so far having resulted in wrecking our
Sail, making Ngouta
sea-sick and me exasperate; for from our noble vessel having during
the course of it demonstrated for the first time her cataclysmic
kicking power, I had had a time of it with my belongings on the
bamboo stage. 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.
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