We
Come To A Sharp Turn In The River, From North And South To East And
West - The Current Very Swift.
The river channel dodges round
against a big bank of sword grass, and then widens out to the
breadth of the Thames at Putney.
I am told that a river runs out of
it here to the west to Ouroungou country, and so I imagine this
Karkola falls ultimately into the Nazareth. We skirt the eastern
banks, which are covered with low grass with a scanty lot of trees
along the top. High land shows in the distance to the S.S.W. and
S.W., and then we suddenly turn up into a broad river or straith,
shaping our course N.N.E. On the opposite bank, on a high dwarf
cliff, is a Fan town. "All Fan now," says Singlet in anything but a
gratified tone of voice.
It is a strange, wild, lonely bit of the world we are now in,
apparently a lake or broad - full of sandbanks, some bare and some in
the course of developing into permanent islands by the growth on
them of that floating coarse grass, any joint of which being torn
off either by the current, a passing canoe, or hippos, floats down
and grows wherever it settles. Like most things that float in these
parts, it usually settles on a sandbank, and then grows in much the
same way as our couch grass grows on land in England, so as to form
a network, which catches for its adopted sandbank all sorts of
floating debris; so the sandbank comes up in the world.
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