The Zambesi being unusually low, we remained at Tette till it rose a little, and then left on the 3rd of December for the Kongone.It was hard work to keep the vessel afloat; indeed, we never expected her to remain above water.New leaks broke out every day; the engine pump gave way; the bridge broke down; three compartments filled at night;except the cabin and front compartment all was flooded; and in a few days we were assured by Rowe that "she can't be worse than she is, sir."He and Hutchins had spent much of their time, while we were away, in patching her bottom, puddling it with clay, and shoring it, and it was chiefly to please them that we again attempted to make use of her.We had long been fully convinced that the steel plates were thoroughly unsuitable.On the morning of the 21st the uncomfortable "Asthmatic" grounded on a sandbank and filled.She could neither be emptied nor got off.The river rose during the night, and all that was visible of the worn-out craft next day was about six feet of her two masts.Most of the property we had on board was saved; and we spent the Christmas of 1860 encamped on the island of Chimba.Canoes were sent for from Senna; and we reached it on the 27th, to be again hospitably entertained by our friend, Senhor Ferrao.
We reached the Kongone on the 4th of January, 1861.A flagstaff and a Custom-house had been erected during our absence; a hut, also, for a black lance-corporal and three privates.By the kind permission of the lance-corporal, who came to see us as soon as he had got into his trousers and shirt, we took up our quarters in the Custom-house, which, like the other buildings, is a small square floorless hut of mangrove stakes overlaid with reeds.The soldiers complained of hunger, they had nothing to eat but a little mapira, and were making palm wine to deaden their cravings.While waiting for a ship, we had leisure to read the newspapers and periodicals we found in the mail which was waiting our arrival at Tette.Several were a year and a half old.
Our provisions began to run short; and towards the end of the month there was nothing left but a little bad biscuit and a few ounces of sugar.Coffee and tea were expended, but scarcely missed, as our sailors discovered a pretty good substitute in roasted mapira.Fresh meat was obtained in abundance from our antelope preserves on the large island made by a creek between the Kongone and East Luabo.
In this focus of decaying vegetation, nothing is so much to be dreaded as inactivity.We had, therefore, to find what exercise and amusement we could, when hunting was not required, in peering about in the fetid swamps; to have gone mooning about, in listless idleness, would have ensured fever in its worst form, and probably with fatal results.
A curious little blenny-fish swarms in the numerous creeks which intersect the mangrove topes.When alarmed, it hurries across the surface of the water in a series of leaps.It may be considered amphibious, as it lives as much out of the water as in it, and its most busy time is during low water.Then it appears on the sand or mud, near the little pools left by the retiring tide; it raises itself on its pectoral fins into something of a standing attitude, and with its large projecting eyes keeps a sharp look-out for the light-coloured fly, on which it feeds.Should the fly alight at too great a distance for even a second leap, the blenny moves slowly towards it like a cat to its prey, or like a jumping spider; and, as soon as it gets within two or three inches of the insect, by a sudden spring contrives to pop its underset mouth directly over the unlucky victim.He is, moreover, a pugnacious little fellow; and rather prolonged fights may be observed between him and his brethren.One, in fleeing from an apparent danger, jumped into a pool a foot square, which the other evidently regarded as his by right of prior discovery; in a twinkling the owner, with eyes flashing fury, and with dorsal fin bristling up in rage, dashed at the intruding foe.
The fight waxed furious, no tempest in a teapot ever equalled the storm of that miniature sea.The warriors were now in the water, and anon out of it, for the battle raged on sea and shore.They struck hard, they bit each other; until, becoming exhausted, they seized each other by the jaws like two bull-dogs, then paused for breath, and at it again as fiercely as before, until the combat ended by the precipitate retreat of the invader.
The muddy ground under the mangrove-trees is covered with soldier-crabs, which quickly slink into their holes on any symptom of danger.
When the ebbing tide retires, myriads of minute crabs emerge from their underground quarters, and begin to work like so many busy bees.
Soon many miles of the smooth sand become rough with the results of their labour.They are toiling for their daily bread:a round bit of moist sand appears at the little labourer's mouth, and is quickly brushed off by one of the claws; a second bit follows the first; and another, and still another come as fast as they can be laid aside.
As these pellets accumulate, the crab moves sideways, and the work continues.The first impression one receives is, that the little creature has swallowed a great deal of sand, and is getting rid of it as speedily as possible:a habit he indulges in of darting into his hole at intervals, as if for fresh supplies, tends to strengthen this idea; but the size of the heaps formed in a few seconds shows that this cannot be the case, and leads to the impression that, although not readily seen, at the distance at which he chooses to keep the observer, yet that possibly he raises the sand to his mouth, where whatever animalcule it may contain is sifted out of it, and the remainder rejected in the manner described.At times the larger species of crabs perform a sort of concert; and from each subterranean abode strange sounds arise, as if, in imitation of the songsters of the groves, for very joy they sang!
