riversteamboat from a Scotch friend on shore here, one that takes all topieces for the boys to carry, quite an African explore boat, and I'mready to start with you to-morrow if you like for the interior, and ifwe don't get the rarest of sport, why I shan't believe that my name isplain John Lyell."
It is needless to say that after this there was another round ofhand-shaking, or that the dinner that day was enlivened by some of thecaptain's very best and rarest of reminiscences.
The little steamer which Lyell had hired was indeed a beauty, quite afairy boat. Getting her ready for the voyage and packing the stores,getting in all necessaries, and hiring "the boys" occupied quite a week.Then they went out on their trial trip. The day was beautiful--it wasthe sunny season in the Indian ocean--there was just enough wind totemper the heat and ripple the sea. The many pretty islands theyvisited seemed, at a distance, to float in the sky; they were emeraldgreen, and fringed with a beach of snowy sand. They landed on some ofthese and shot a species of small deer and rabbits--wild rabbits such aswe have at home. [I cannot account for the presence of rabbits on someislands in the channel of the Mozambique, but there they are.] In alittle sandy cove of one of these islands, they took luncheon _alfresco_, previously enjoying the luxury of a bath, all taking a headerat once and making all the noise they could to keep the sharks at bay.
The trial trip was perfectly satisfactory; so next morning early, it wasup anchor and off. The _Bluebird_ hadn't much space between decks, butthey had an awning spread, and lounging on deck was delightful. Theyheaded north, keeping two or three miles from the shore. This shore wasa cloudland of green, without beach or sea border of any kind.
"Yonder," said Lyell, "is where oysters grow on trees."
There was a laugh at this; but next morning the captain verified hisstatement, and he took Frank with him in the little boat, and theybrought off a bucketful. The explanation is this: the roots of themangrove trees grow among the water, to these the oysters cling, and atlow water can be gathered.
Now here they are at the mouth of a great river; they can hear thethundering of the breakers on the terrible bar as they approach it, overthese mountain waves their boat must go, and it is lucky for them thatthey have so experienced a sailor as Lyell at the helm. But beyond allis peace; the peace that reigns on the broad bosom of a great riverwhose waters roll slowly seaward. On each side the banks are wooded tothe water's edge. The trees are mangroves, but here and there arebunches of feathery palms.
After dinner they land among a clump of these to drink cool deliciouscocoa-nut milk. [This glorious nectar can only be had in perfection inlands where the cocoa palms grow. Each green nut before the fruit isformed contains about a quart of it.] In Africa, wherever you findcocoa-nut trees you find human beings, and here was a negro village, butat sight of the white faces of the travellers the natives fled screaminginto the dark depths of the forest. So they had to help themselves.Onward again, and now a thick fog envelopes them, and in a few minutesthe _Bluebell_ has run aground and refuses to budge. Then it is allhands to strip and get overboard to lighten ship; all save the littleengineer; he stays aboard to go all speed astern. All speed asternmeans no speed at all for ten minutes at least, during which time itcomes on to rain in fearful torrents, and the surface of the riverbecomes all at once so hot, that they are glad when the _Bluebell_ movesagain, and they can get up out of it. They hadn't bargained for a warmbath. But the mist rolls off presently, and they can once more seetheir way. But this running aground becomes an almost every dayoccurrence, so that at last they quite look forward to the order tostrip and plunge.
They have left the last Portuguese settlement, and the last Arabencampment, leagues and leagues behind them; they have passed thecountries of many different tribes of natives. Most of these fled ontheir approach, but the warriors of some lined the shores, yellingmaniacally, and brandishing their war spears. They have come at last toa portion of the stream where they are but little troubled with thepresence of the aborigines, a few only being seen in their log canoespeacefully fishing. But where mankind does not abound in Africa birdsand beasts hold sway; and one day, on rounding a point of land, theycame upon a scene of such animation, as my poor pen would fail in anyattempt to describe. It was noontide on the river; countless herds ofzebus and zebras had come down to drink, hippopotami wallowed in theshallows, and the sky above was alive with myriads of strange andbeautiful birds, that floated screaming around, or perched on the trees,deafening the ear with their noise and chatter; parrots and lories,ibises, flamingoes and storks--some of these as they circled high in theair being arrayed in plumage of pure white and scarlet, looked strangelybeautiful against the sky's azure blue.
"O!" cried Chisholm, "we mustn't let such an opportunity as this passfor a big shoot."
"Give them time to drink," said Fred; "it would be a shame to disturbthem yet a little."
This was agreed to, and the _Bluebird_ lay still for two hours, whichgave ample time to watch the strange manners and customs of thesecurious specimens of animal life, and after this shooting began. Thelarger game were wilder than they imagined, and soon made themselvesvery scarce indeed; but the birds took hardly any heed of theirpresence, and even when dozens of them fluttered down dead, instead ofbeing afraid, the majority seemed to look upon the matter as a verypretty joke, and the parrots in particular shrieked and laughed till thevery welkin rang.
The scenery got more varied as they proceeded more inland; the riverswept at times through vast treeless wastes, and on its banks layalligators basking in the sunshine. This was a temptation never to beresisted. It afforded good ball practice, and I daresay it tickled thealligators up a little if it did nothing else. At other times the riverwas bounded by gigantic cliffs; here it narrowed, and the current was sostrong that a mile an hour of headway was all that could be made, underthe highest pressure of steam commensurate with safety.
They had come to the right hunting grounds at last, so thought Chisholm,Frank, and Fred. But Lyell, although always willing to lie to for a dayto enjoy the wild scenery, and the shooting the jungles afforded, alwayscounselled going on and on. Early in the morning and an hour or twobefore the shades of evening fell, were the times they generally choseto disembark for a ramble in the forest.
One day they crept quietly through the bush to a spot whence some noiseproceeded. They expected a shot at something. Suddenly they foundthemselves within a stone's throw of a herd of most beautiful zebras;they had come to a pool to drink. But beyond them were quite a regimentof giraffes. _They_ could sniff the danger from afar if the zebrascould not; they swung their heads as if they were gigantic hammers,stamped with rage, and bounded off ere ever a trigger could be drawn.But our heroes were rewarded half-an-hour afterwards, by falling in witha quantity of hippopotami. These unwieldly monsters were quietlybrowsing on the rank herbage that the plain afforded them. Probablythey never ran so quickly before as they did when fire was opened onthem from the bush. Before they had began to shoot, "I say, boys," saidChisholm, "what a charming view, a nobleman's castle on a hill, park andtrees and all complete! Doesn't it look like it, though?"
"Yes," Fred replied, laughing; "and deer and all in it. Don't they lookelegant with their short legs and their swollen mouths?"
Bang--bang--bang!
CHAPTER TWELVE.
AN INLAND LAKE--ENCHANTING SCENERY--THE ENCAMPMENT--TROPICAL STORMS--HUNTING THE RHINOCEROS--FRANK UNHORSED--LYELL'S ADVENTURE WITH A LION--ENCOUNTER WITH A GORILLA.
Some degrees south of the Equator, and nearly four hundred miles fromthe eastern shores of Africa, a tributary of the river up which thesaucy little _Bluebell_ was so quietly steaming, suddenly broadened outinto a beautiful lake. Here about a week after the events narrated inlast chapter, our friends found themselves. Not even Captain Lyell knewthe name of this sheet of water. Perhaps it never had one, but Chisholmwas equal to the occasion.
"Call it," he said, "Loch Row Allan, in honour of my departed friend thelion killer."
[Row Allan Gordon Cumming.]
And so, Loch Row Allan it was called.
I hope my young reader has not been taught at school to believe that theinterior of Africa is composed _entirely_ of deep, dark forests,entangled bush, and dismal swamp. If he has been, and could catch butone glance at the wild and charming scenery around this inland lake; howspeedily he would be undeceived. It is a bold and rugged mountain land,hills above hills towering skywards, clusters of hills, not round butfacaded--peaked, and clad to two-thirds of their height with giganticforest trees and feathery palms. There is many a bosky glen and dellencompassed by these hills, and many a dark, wide wooded strath, and itdid not detract in the least from the charm of the scenery, in ourheroes' view, to know that these glens and straths were the home of theelephant, the rhinoceros, and the king of the forest
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