At
The Same Time I Arranged To Go Myself On A Little Excursion Up A
River Which Flows Into The Bay About Five Miles North Of The
Town, To A Village Of The Alfuros, Or Indigenes, Where I Thought
I Might Perhaps Find A Good Collecting Ground.
The Rajah of Cajeli, a good-tempered old man, offered to
accompany me, as the village was under his government; and we
started one morning early, in a long narrow boat with eight
rowers.
In about two hours we entered the river, and commenced
our inland journey against a very powerful current. The stream
was about a hundred yards wide, and was generally bordered with
high grass, and occasionally bushes and palm-trees. The country
round was flat and more or less swampy, with scattered trees and
shrubs. At every bend we crossed the river to avoid the strength
of the current, and arrived at our landing-place about four
o'clock in a torrent of rain. Here we waited for an hour,
crouching under a leaky mat till the Alfuros arrived who had been
sent for from the village to carry my baggage, when we set off
along a path of whose extreme muddiness I had been warned before
starting.
I turned up my trousers as high as possible, grasped a stoat
stick to prevent awkward falls, and then boldly plunged into the
first mud-hole, which was immediately succeeded by another and
another. The marl or mud and water was knee-deep with little
intervals of firmer ground between, making progression
exceedingly difficult.
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