In which is given some account of the episode of the
Hippopotame, and of the voyager’s attempts at
controlling an Ogowe canoe; and also of the Igalwa
tribe.
I say good-bye to Talagouga with much regret, and
go on board the Eclaireur, when she returns from Njole,
with all my bottles and belongings. On board
I find no other passenger; the Captain’s English
has widened out considerably; and he is as pleasant,
cheery, and spoiling for a fight as ever; but he has
a preoccupied manner, and a most peculiar set of new
habits, which I find are shared by the Engineer.
Both of them make rapid dashes to the rail, and nervously
scan the river for a minute and then return to some
occupation, only to dash from it to the rail again.
During breakfast their conduct is nerve-shaking.
Hastily taking a few mouthfuls, the Captain drops
his knife and fork and simply hurls his seamanlike
form through the nearest door out on to the deck.
In another minute he is back again, and with just
a shake of his head to the Engineer, continues his
meal. The Engineer shortly afterwards flies
from his seat, and being far thinner than the Captain,
goes through his nearest door with even greater rapidity;
returns, and shakes his head at the Captain, and continues
his meal. Excitement of this kind is infectious,
and I also wonder whether I ought not to show a sympathetic
friendliness by flying from my seat and hurling myself
on to the deck through my nearest door, too.
But although there are plenty of doors, as four enter
the saloon from the deck, I do not see my way to doing
this performance aimlessly, and what in this world
they are both after I cannot think. So I confine
myself to woman’s true sphere, and assist in
a humble way by catching the wine and Vichy water
bottles, glasses, and plates of food, which at every
performance are jeopardised by the members of the
nobler sex starting off with a considerable quantity
of the ample table cloth wrapped round their legs.
At last I can stand it no longer, so ask the Captain
point-blank what is the matter. “Nothing,”
says he, bounding out of his chair and flying out of
his doorway; but on his return he tells me he has
got a bet on of two bottles of champagne with Woermann’s
Agent for Njole, as to who shall reach Lembarene first,
and the German agent has started off some time before
the Eclaireur in his little steam launch.
During the afternoon we run smoothly along; the free
pulsations of the engines telling what a very different
thing coming down the Ogowe is to going up against
its terrific current. Every now and again we
stop to pick up cargo, or discharge over-carried cargo,
and the Captain’s mind becomes lulled by getting
no news of the Woermann’s launch having passed
down. He communicates this to the Engineer;
it is impossible she could have passed the Eclaireur
since they started, therefore she must be some where
