Stories of the Gorilla Country. Du Chaillu Paul Belloni

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СКАЧАТЬ o'clock. No leopard. I looked in vain all round me: I could see nothing.

      Two o'clock. Nothing yet.

      Suddenly, I spied something a long way off on the beach, so far that I could not make out what it was. It came slowly towards me. What could it be? I asked myself. Soon I recognised a big spotted leopard. The goat, which had seen it, began to cry more loudly. The big beast came nearer and nearer. He began to crouch. Then he lay flat on the ground. How his eyes glittered! They looked like two pieces of bright, burning charcoal.

      My heart beat. The first thought that came to me was – Is my house strong enough to resist his attack, in case I should wound him, or if, perchance, he should prefer me to the goat, and make an onslaught upon it?

      The savage beast crawled nearer, and again crouched down on the ground. I took my gun; and, just as I was getting ready to fire, he made an immense leap, and bounded upon the goat. I fired. I do not know how, but, in the twinkling of an eye, the goat was seized, and both leopard and goat disappeared in the dark forest. I fired again, but with no better success. In the morning, I saw nothing but the traces of the poor goat's blood.

      I did not return to the village till morning; for I dared not go outside of my palisade that night. So, the goat being gone, I concluded I had better light a fire, to warm myself, and drive away the mosquitoes. I always carried a box of matches with me. I struck one, and soon succeeded in making a blaze with the little firewood I had collected.

      Strange enough I must have looked, inside of my cage, while the fire sent its glimmering light around.

      Finally, seeing that everything was well secured, I went to sleep, taking good care to put myself in the middle of the fort, so that if, by any chance, a leopard came, he could not get hold of me with his paw. When I awoke it was broad daylight, and I immediately started for Imonga's village.

      CHAPTER V

THE BAY OF CORISCO – THE MANGROVE TREES – THE WONDERFUL FLOCKS OF BIRDS – WHAT I FOUND IN THE POUCH OF A PELICAN – HOW AN OLD KING IS BURIED, AND THE NEW KING CROWNED

      Now that you have followed me in the Benito country, and to Cape St. John, I will take you a little further down the coast to the Bay of Corisco. There, two rivers empty their waters into the sea. One of them is called the Muni river, and the other the Monda.

      I will leave the Muni, for we shall have to come to it by-and-by, and will speak to you only of the Monda. It is throughout a low-banked swampy stream. The banks are covered with mangrove trees. Every limb or branch that grows in the water is covered with oysters – real oysters too; so that at low tide you can see, in some places for a long distance, immense beds of this kind of shell-fish.

      The mangroves, on which the oysters grow so curiously, are very extraordinary trees. The main trunk, or parent tree, grows to an immense size. From a single tree a whole forest will grow up in time, for the branches send down shoots into the ground, which in their turn take root and become trees; so that, generally, almost the whole of the mangrove forest may be said to be knitted together.

      The inhabitants of the country at the mouth of the river are called Shekiani. They are a very warlike tribe, and many of them are armed with guns, which they obtain from the vessels that come here from time to time to buy bar wood, ivory, or india-rubber.

      I arrived at the mouth of the river, in a small canoe, manned by several Mbinga men. The canoe was made of the trunk of a single tree, and had a mat for a sail. At the mouth of the river, high above the swamps that surround its banks, are two hills. On the top of one of these hills, a village was situated. There I stayed. It was a village of insignificant size.

      At low tide, the high muddy banks of the river are exposed. So many birds as are there, I never saw elsewhere: they are to be seen in countless thousands. The shore, the mud islands, and the water were so covered with them, that it was really a sight worth seeing. Here and there flocks of pelicans swam majestically along, keeping at a good distance from my canoe. You would probably wish to know what these pelicans are like. I will tell you. They are large birds, and have an enormous bill, under which is a large pouch, capable of containing several pounds of fish. They have webbed feet, and their feathers are white. I wish you could see them looking out for their prey. How slyly they pry in the water for the fish they are in search of, and how quickly they pounce upon them unawares with their powerful beak! In an instant the fish are killed and stored away in the pouch; and when this is full, then Master Pelican begins to eat. The fish are put in the pouch as if it were a storehouse.

      Now and then a string of flamingoes go stretching along the muddy shore, looking for all the world like a line of fire. Most beautiful are these flamingoes! and very singular they appear when not on the wing, but standing still on their long red legs! They are very wild, however, and difficult of approach.

      Wherever the mud peeped out of the water, there were herons, cranes, gulls of various kinds. Scattered everywhere were seen those beautiful white birds (Egretta flavirostris). Some of the shore trees were covered with them, looking like snow in the distance.

      Of course I wished to kill some of these birds. So I took a tiny little canoe, and covered it with branches of trees, that the birds might think it was a tree coming down the stream, as is often the case. Then I took a Shekiani with me to paddle, and, putting two guns in the canoe, we made for the pelicans. The sly birds seemed to suspect something, and did not give me a chance to approach them for a long time. But, as you know, in order to succeed in anything, people must have patience and perseverance. So, after chasing many, I finally succeeded in approaching one. He was just in the act of swallowing a big fish, when – bang! – I fired, and wounded him so that he could not fly. His wing had been broken by my shot. At the noise made by firing my gun, the birds flew away by thousands. I made for Master Pelican. The chase became exciting; but at last we succeeded in coming near him. But how to get hold of him was now the question. His wing only was broken; and, with his great beak, he might perhaps be able to cut one of my fingers right off. I was afraid to spoil his feathers if I fired again. He became exhausted, and with one of the paddles I gave him a tremendous blow on the head, which stunned him. Another blow finished him, and we lifted him into the canoe.

      I cannot tell you how pleased I was. His pouch was full of fish. They were so fresh that I resolved to make a meal out of them.

      I had hardly put the bird at the bottom of the canoe, when there came flying towards me a flock of at least two hundred flamingoes. In a moment I had my gun in readiness. Would they come near enough for me to get a shot at them? I watched them anxiously. Yes! Now they are near enough; and – bang! bang! – I fired the two barrels right into the middle of the flock, and two beautiful flamingoes fell into the water. Quickly we paddled towards them. In order to go faster I took a paddle also, and worked away as well as I could. They were dead. Both had received shots in the head.

      We made for the shore. When I opened the pouch of the pelican – just think of it! – I found a dozen large fishes inside! They were quite fresh; and I am sure they had not been caught more than half an hour. You will agree with me that the pelican makes quick work when he goes a-fishing.

      In the evening I felt so tired that I went straight to bed; and I slept so soundly, that if the Shekianis had chosen, they could have murdered me without my even opening my eyes.

      This village had a new king; and I wondered if his majesty were made king in the same fashion as the sovereign of the Mpongwe tribe; a tribe of negroes among whom I have resided, and I will tell you how their king was made.

      Old King Glass died. He had been long ailing, but clung to life with determined tenacity. He was a disagreeable old heathen; but in his last days he became very devout – after his fashion. His idol was always freshly painted, and brightly decorated; his fetich, or "monda," was the best cared for fetich in Africa, and every few days some СКАЧАТЬ