Page:Travels in West Africa, Congo Français, Corisco and Cameroons (IA travelsinwestafr00kingrich).pdf/457

 deck chair on the deck of the 2,000 ton Rochelle in 1893, with all anxiety as to locality and navigation on the mind of Captain Harrison, while I lazily wondered what it was like ashore here. The stretch of land looked there so desolate and wild: a long line of surf, a long line of dove-coloured sand, a long line of green shrub-brushes, backed by a low, dark forest. We soon lost sight of it on the Rochelle, as she swung out west to give its dangers a wide berth. Little did I think then that I should ever be in circumstances so pre-eminently fitted for acquiring detailed knowledge of the entire phenomena, surf, rocks, sand, beach and all, as I am at present in. We lower our gaff and anchor as hard as we can, and then, leaving two men in the boat and the lady passenger; the rest of us jump over the side into the surf, and wade ashore to stretch our limbs and pick up firewood. We do not stay long, because we are afraid of the Lafayette dragging her anchors. Don't mention it, pray, in "British African" circles; but as we back her stern-foremost on to the sand, we want a hand-line for soundings to find a suitable sand tongue to settle on. I give Whiskers my fishing-line; its lead sinker does very well, only you see we haven't time to take off the line of fish hooks, and, so when he, in proper style, swings the lead to take a cast, those hooks just hitch in the cargo. I cut them adrift with a jack knife with commendable promptitude, Eveke meanwhile handles the sail and I, when danger becomes imminent, energetically take soundings over the stern with my umbrella. It is magnificent, but not navigation, still it works well.

We wade back to the Lafayette, clamber on board, and start to get our supper in the dark, for by now the last light has died out of the sky, and artificial light we have none. Unfortunately I have packed my eatables in my collecting box, so attempt to eat a very interesting dead-wood fungus in lieu of biscuit. Giving this up, I decide to confine my attention to my one surviving tin, the opening of which costs me skin and blood. I am not surprised, but grieved, to find that after all it contains only vegetables for putting into soups, because I have had experience with this species of tinned product before. This particular tin is one of the consignment so kindly sent by Mr. Hudson my rescue on the