The Hills Become Higher And Higher, And
More And More Abrupt, And The River Runs Between Them In A Gloomy
Ravine, winding to and fro; we catch sight of a patch of white sand
ahead, which I mistake for a
White painted house, but immediately
after doubling round a bend we see the houses of the Talagouga
Mission Station. The Eclaireur forthwith has an hysteric fit on her
whistle, so as to frighten M. Forget and get him to dash off in his
canoe to her at once. Apparently he knows her, and does not hurry,
but comes on board quietly. I find there will be no place for me to
stay at at Njole, so I decide to go on in the Eclaireur and use her
as an hotel while there, and then return and stay with Mme. Forget
if she will have me. I consult M. Forget on this point. He says,
"Oh, yes," but seems to have lost something of great value recently,
and not to be quite clear where. Only manner, I suppose. When M.
Forget has got his mails he goes, and the Eclaireur goes on; indeed,
she has never really stopped, for the water is too deep to anchor in
here, and the terrific current would promptly whisk the steamer down
out of Talagouga gorge were she to leave off fighting it. We run on
up past Talagouga Island, where the river broadens out again a
little, but not much, and reach Njole by nightfall, and tie up to a
tree by Dumas' factory beach. Usual uproar, but as Mr. Cockshut
says, no mosquitoes. The mosquito belt ends abruptly at
O'Soamokita.
Next morning I go ashore and start on a walk. Lovely road, bright
yellow clay, as hard as paving stone. On each side it is most
neatly hedged with pine-apples; behind these, carefully tended,
acres of coffee bushes planted in long rows. Certainly coffee is
one of the most lovely of crops. Its grandly shaped leaves are like
those of our medlar tree, only darker and richer green, the berries
set close to the stem, those that are ripe, a rich crimson; these
trees, I think, are about three years old, and just coming into
bearing; for they are covered with full-sized berries, and there has
been a flush of bloom on them this morning, and the delicious
fragrance of their stephanotis-shaped and scented flowers lingers in
the air. The country spreads before me a lovely valley encompassed
by purple-blue mountains. Mount Talagouga looks splendid in a soft,
infinitely deep blue, although it is quite close, just the other
side of the river. The road goes on into the valley, as pleasantly
as ever and more so. How pleasant it would be now, if our
government along the Coast had the enterprise and public spirit of
the French, and made such roads just on the remote chance of stray
travellers dropping in on a steamer once in ten years or so and
wanting a walk.
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