I
There is a river I know which begins its life in a dark, sunless canyon
high up amid the thick forest-clad spurs of the range which traverses
the island from east to west. Here, lying deep and silent, is a pool,
almost encompassed by huge boulders of smooth, black rock, piled
confusedly together, yet preserving a certain continuity of outline
where their bases touch the water's edge. Standing far up on the
mountainside you can, from one certain spot alone, discern it two
hundred feet below, and a thick mass of tangled vine and creepers
stretching across its western side, through which the water flows on its
journey to the sea.
A narrow native path, used only by hunters of the wild pigs haunting the
depths of the gloomy mountain forest, led me to it one close, steaming
afternoon. I had been pigeon shooting along the crests of the ridges,
and having shot as many birds as I could carry, I decided to make a
short cut down to the level ground, where I was sure of finding water,
resting awhile and then making my way home along the beach to the
village.
I had descended scarcely more than fifty yards when I struck the path--a
thin, red line of sticky, clay soil, criss-crossed by countless roots of
the great forest trees. A brief examination showed me that it had been
trodden by the feet of natives quite recently; their footprints led
downward. I followed, and presently came to a cleared space on the
mountainside, a spot which had evidently been used by a party of hunters
who had stayed there to cook some food, for the ashes of a fire lay in
the ground-oven they had made. Laying down my gun, I went to the edge
and peered cautiously over, and there far below I could see the pool,
revealed by a shaft of sunlight which pierced down through the leafy
canopy.
Feeling sure that the track would lead me to the water, where I should
have the satisfaction of a long drink, I set out again, and after
narrowly escaping pitching down headlong, I at last reached the bottom,
and, with a sigh of relief, threw down my gun and birds, and in another
moment was drinking eagerly of the ice-cold, crystal water in one of the
many minor pools which lay everywhere amid the boulders.
After a few minutes' rest I collected some dead wood and lit a fire,
being hungry as well as thirsty; then leaving it to burn down, I
climbed one of the highest boulders to get a good view, and sighed with
admiration at the scene--there lay before me a deep, almost circular
sheet or water, about thirty yards across. Directly beneath me I could
see the rocky bottom; fifty feet further out towards the centre it was
of unfathomable blueness. On the opposite side a tree of enormous girth
had fallen, long years before, yet it was still growing, for some of its
mighty roots were embedded in the rich red soil of the mountain-side.
As I looked, a fish, and then another, splashed just beside the fallen
tree. Slipping down from the boulder, I made my way round, just in time
to see scores of beautiful silvery fish, exactly like English grayling
in shape, dart away from under the tree out into the deep water. In
other streams of the island I had caught many of these fish, but had
never seen any so high up inland; and, elated at the prospect of much
future sport, I went on with my explorations.
I was about to climb over the tree, when I discovered that I could pass
underneath, for here and there it was supported on boulders standing
out two or three feet above the water. On the other side a tiny stream
trickled over a flat ledge of rock, to fall into a second but much
smaller pool ten or fifteen feet below; beyond that lay a long, narrow
but shallow stretch of crystal water, running between highly verdured
banks, and further away in the distance I could hear the murmur of a
waterfall.
Turning over a stone with my foot, a crayfish darted off and tried
to hide. There were scores, hundreds of them, everywhere--fine, fat,
luscious fellows, and in ten minutes I had a dozen of the largest in my
bag, to roast on the now glowing fire beside a juicy pigeon. Salt I had
none, but I did possess a ship biscuit and a piece of cold baked taro,
and with pigeon and crayfish, what more could a hungry man desire?
The intense solitude of the place, too, was enchanting. Now and then
the booming note of a pigeon, or the soft _coo-coo_ of a ringdove, would
break the silence; overhead there was a sky of spotless blue; an hour
before I had sweltered under a brazen sun; here, under the mountain
shade, though there was not a breath of wind to stir a leaf, it was
surprisingly cool.
To lean against the soft white moss clothing the buttresses of a giant
maruhia-tree and smoke a pipe, was delightful after a tramp of six
or eight miles through a mountain forest; and to know that the return
journey would be through easy country along the banks of a new river was
better still.
I set off with a feeling of joyful expectancy, taking a last glance at
the beautiful little lake--I meant to return with some native friends to
fish it on the morrow--ere I struck into the forest once more to pick up
the path.
Every now and then I caught glimpses of the river, now gradually
widening as it was joined by other streamlets on either side. Some of
these I had to wade through, others I crossed on stones or fallen trees.
Half-way to the beach I came to a broad stretch of shallow water covered
with purple water-lilies; three small ducks, with alarmed quacking, shot
upward from where they had been resting or feeding under the bank, and
vanished over the tree-tops; and a sudden commotion in the water showed
me that there were many fish. Its beautiful clearness tempted me to
strip off and swim about the floating garden resting on its bosom, and
I was just about to undress when I heard a shot quite near. The moment
after, I fired in return, and gave a loud hail; then the high reedy cane
grass on the other side parted, and a man and a woman came out, stared
at me, and then laughed in welcome. They were one Nalik and his wife,
people living in my own village. The man carried a long single-barrelled
German shot-gun, the woman a basket of pigeons. Stepping down the bank,
they waded across and joined me.
“How came ye here?” they asked, as we sat down together to smoke.
I told them, and then learnt that the river ran into the sea through the
mangroves at a spot many miles from the village. Then I asked about the
big pool. Nalik nodded.
“Ay, 'tis deep, very deep, and hath many fish in it. But it is a place
of _jelon_ (haunted) and we always pass to one side. But here where we
now sit is a fine place for fish. And there are many wild pigs in the
forest.”
“Let us come here to-morrow. Let us start ere the sun is up, and stay
here and fish and shoot till the day be gone.”
“Why not?” said Sivi his wife, puffing her cigarette, “and sleep
here when night comes, for under the banks are many thousand _unkar_
(crayfish), and I and some other women shall catch them by torchlight.”
And that was how I began to learn this island river and its ways, so
that now it has become the river ot my dreams.