PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY--CHARACTER OF VEGETATION--RIVERS.
The Portuguese possessions of Angola on the south-west coast of Africa
extend from Ambriz in 7° 49´ S. Lat. to Cape Frio in 18° 20´ S. Lat.
Their farthest establishment south is, however, at Mossamedes, or
Little Fish Bay, in 15° 20´ S. Lat.
Throughout this book in speaking of Angola I include not only the
country from Mossamedes to Ambriz, at present occupied by the
Portuguese, but farther north, as far as the River Congo, that being
its strong natural limit of climate, fauna, and ethnology, as I shall
further explain.
This long extent of coast comprises, as may be readily imagined,
considerable variety in geological formation, physical configuration,
climate, vegetation, and natural productions, tribes of natives, and
different languages, habits, and customs.
The coast-line is nowhere very bold; level sandy bays, fringed with a
belt of the dark evergreen mangrove, alternate with long stretches of
cliffs, seldom attaining any great height or grandeur, and covered with
a coarse branching grass (_Eragrostis_ sp.), small patches of shrubby
scrub, a tall cactus-like tree Euphorbia, and the gigantic towering
Baobab with its fantastic long gourd-like fruit. (Plate I.)
The “Calema,” or surf-wave, with its ceaseless roar, breaks heavily in
long white lines on the smooth beach, and pulverizes the hardest rock,
and every particle of shell and animal structure. It dashes against the
base of the cliffs, resounding loudly in its mad fury as it has done,
wave after wave and hour after hour, for unknown ages; and the singular
absence of gulls or any moving living objects, or noises, to divert the
eye or ear from the dreadful monotony of constantly recurring sound,
and line after line of dazzling white foam, gives a distinctive and
excessively depressing character to the coast, in harmony, as it were,
with the enervating influence of its climate.
The character of the Angolan landscape is entirely different from that
of the West Coast proper; say from Cape Verde to the Gaboon and the
River Congo. Along that great length of coast are hundreds of square
miles of brackish and salt-water lagoons and swamps, level with the
sea, and often only separated from it by a narrow mangrove-fringed
beach. The bottom of these lagoons is generally a soft deep black
fetid mud, and a stick plunged into it comes up thickly covered with
a mass nearly approaching in appearance to paste blacking. In the dry
season great expanses of the bottom of these swamps become partially
dry, and fermenting in the hot tropical sun cause a horrible stench,
from the decayed millions of small fish, crabs, &c., left exposed on
the surface. The number of fish and some of the lower forms of life
inhabiting the mud and water of the lagoons is almost incredible. If
one keeps quite still for a few minutes, the slimy ground becomes
perfectly alive and hissing from the legions of small brightly coloured
land crabs that issue simultaneously from thousands of round holes,
from the size of a quill to about an inch and a-half in diameter.
It is in these gigantic hotbeds of decomposition that the deadly types
of African fever are, I believe, mostly generated; and these pest
waters and mud, when swept into the rivers by the floods in the rainy
season, are carried far and wide, with what effect to human life on
that coast it is needless to mention.
On those parts of the West Coast where level swampy ground is not
the rule, a most agreeable change is seen in the character of the
landscape, although, perhaps, the climate is just as unhealthy.
Drenched constantly by pelting thunderstorms, and drizzling mists that
roll down from the high lands and mountain-tops, the country is covered
by the most luxuriant forest vegetation, in one expanse of the deepest
unvarying green, the combined result of excessive moisture and the
tropical sun of an almost uninterrupted summer.
This alternation of swamp and dense forest ends completely on arriving
at the River Congo, and a total change to the comparatively arid
country of Angola takes place; in fact, at about 13° S. Lat. it becomes
almost a perfectly arid, rocky, and sandy desert.
I may say that, without exception, from the River Congo to Mossamedes
no dense forest is seen from the sea, and from thence not a single
tree, it is said, for hundreds of miles to the Orange River. A little
mangrove, lining the insignificant rivers and low places in their
vicinity, is all that varies the open scrub, of which the giant
Adansonias and Euphorbias have taken, as it were, exclusive possession.
Nowhere on the coast is seen more than an indication of the wonderful
vegetation, or varied beauty and fertility, which generally begins at a
distance of from thirty to sixty miles inland.
At this distance, a ridge or hilly range runs along the whole length
of Angola, forming the first elevation; a second elevation succeeds it
at about an equal distance; and a third, at perhaps twice the distance
again, lands us on the central high plateau of Africa.
From the few and insignificant streams traversing Angola to the coast,
which at most only reach sufficiently far inland to have their source
at this third elevation or central plateau, it would seem that a great
central depression or fall drains the waters of that part of Africa in
either an easterly or southerly direction.
I think it is very doubtful whether the Congo, with its vast body
of water and rapid current, drains any large extent of country in
an easterly direction to the interior, beyond the first rapids. The
gradual elevation from the coast to the ridge beyond which the central
plateau begins, and from which the streams that drain Angola seem to
have their source, may have been formed by the upheaval of the country
by volcanic action. Of this there is evidence in the trachytes and
basalts of Cambambe and the country to the south of Benguella, which
form an anticlinal axis running the whole length of Angola, and thus
prevent the drainage of the interior to the sea on this part of the
coast.
These successive elevations inland are accompanied by very remarkable
changes in the character of the vegetation covering the surface of the
country, and in my several excursions and explorations to the interior
from Ambriz to Bembe, from Loanda to the Pungo Andongo range, from Novo
Redondo to Mucelis, and to the interior of Benguella and Mossamedes,
I have had frequent opportunities of remarking these very singular
and sudden changes. These are due, I believe, as Dr. Welwitsch has
pointed out, to the difference of elevation alone, irrespective of its
geological formation.
A sketch of the vegetation of the country traversed by the road
from Ambriz to Bembe, where is situated the wonderful deposit of
malachite,--a distance of about 120 miles E.N.E.--will give an idea
of the general character of the change observed in travelling towards
the interior of Angola. For about twenty-five miles from Ambriz the
vegetation is, as already described, principally composed of enormous
Baobabs, Euphorbias, a tall Agave (or aloe), a tree called “Muxixe” by
the natives, bearing curious seed-pods (_Sterculia tomentosa_), a few
small slender creepers, great abundance of the _Sansevieria Angolensis_
in the thickets of prickly bushes, and coarse short tufty grasses,--the
branching grass being only found near the coast for a few miles. The
country is pretty level, dry, and stony, of weathered large-grained
gneiss. At Matuta the scene suddenly and magically changes, and in so
striking a manner as to impress even the most unobservant traveller.
The Baobabs become much fewer in number, the Agaves, the Sansevieria,
the Euphorbias, suddenly and almost completely disappear, as also do
most of the prickly shrubs, the fine trailing and creeping plants, the
Muxixe, and several other trees, and a number of smaller plants. A new
set of larger, shadier trees and shrubs take their place, the grass
becomes tall and broad-leaved, and one seems to be travelling in an
entirely new country.
This character is preserved for another stretch of road till Quiballa
is reached, about sixty miles from the coast, where the rise in level
is more marked; and again the vegetation changes, almost as remarkably
as at Matuta, where, however, the difference in altitude is not so
sudden, but a gradual rise is noticed all the way from Ambriz. Creepers
of all kinds, attaining a gigantic size, here almost monopolize the
vegetation, clasping round the biggest trees, and covering them with
a mass of foliage and flower, and forming most exquisite festoons
and curtains as they web, as it were, one tree to another in their
embrace. No words can describe the luxuriance of these tree creepers,
particularly in the vicinity of the shallow rivers and rivulets of
the interior. Several trees together, covered from top to bottom with
a rich mantle of the India-rubber creeper (_Landolphia florida_?),
with bright, large dark-green leaves somewhat resembling those of
the magnolia, thickly studded with large bunches of purest white
jasmine-like flowers, loading the air for a considerable distance with
its powerful bitter-almond perfume, and attracting a cloud of buzzing
insects, form altogether a sight not easily forgotten. Once at Bembe
I saw a perfect wall or curtain formed by a most delicate creeper,
hung from top to bottom with bottle-brush-like flowers about three
inches long;--but the grandest view presented to my eyes was in the
Pungo Andongo range, where the bottom of a narrow valley, for quite
half a mile in length, was filled, as they all are in the interior, by
a dense forest of high trees; the creepers, in search of light, had
pierced through and spread on the top, where their stems and leaves had
become woven and matted into a thick carpet on which their flowers were
produced in such profusion that hardly a leaf was visible, but only one
long sea of beautiful purple, like a glacier of colour--filling the
valley and set in the frame of green of the luxuriant grass-covered
hill sides. The very blacks that accompanied me, so little impressed
as they are usually by the beauties of nature, beat their open mouths
with the palm of the hand as they uttered short “Ah! ah! ahs!” their
universal mode of expressing astonishment or delight, so wonderful,
even to them, appeared the magnificent mass of colour below us as it
suddenly came in view when we arrived at the head of the valley, down
one side of which we descended to the plain below.
I have seen the surface of a large pool of water thickly covered with a
layer of purple pea-shaped flowers, fallen from the large Wistaria-like
bunches of blossom of a creeper overgrowing a mass of trees standing
at the edge: it seemed as if Nature, loth that so much beauty should
fade quickly, had kept for some time longer the fallen flowers fresh
and lovely on the cool still water of the shady lake. This abundance
of creeping plants is more or less preserved till at about sixty miles
farther inland we arrive at Bembe and the comparatively level country
stretching away to the interior; the oil-palm (_Elæis Guineensis_)
then becomes again abundant, these trees being only found on the coast
in any number in the vicinity of the rivers; the beautiful feathery
papyrus also again covers the lagoons and wet places.
The comparatively short and spare thin-leaved and delicate tufted
grasses of the first or littoral region are succeeded in the second, as
I have already said, by much stronger kinds, attaining an extraordinary
development in the highest or third region. Gigantic grasses from five
to as much as sixteen feet high, growing luxuriantly, cover densely
the vast plains and tracts of country in these two regions where tree
vegetation is scarce. The edges of the blades of most of these tall
grasses are so stiff and finely and strongly serrated as to be quite
sharp, and if passed quickly over the skin will cause a deep cut, as
clean as if done with a knife; one species is called by the natives
“Capim de faca” in Portuguese, or “knife grass,” from the manner in
which it cuts if handled, or in going through it.
I have often had my hands bleeding from cuts inflicted by this grass
when in going down steep, dry, slippery places I have clutched at the
high grass on each side of me to prevent falling. To any one accustomed
to grass only a few inches high, the dimensions that these species
attain are simply incredible. Like snow and ice in northern latitudes,
grasses in interior tropical Africa for some six months in the year
take undisputed possession of the country and actually interrupt all
communication in many places.
It is a very strange feeling when travelling in a hammock, to be forced
through grass so dense and so high that nothing but the sky above can
be seen,--a wall of dry rustling leaves on each side shutting out all
view sometimes for mile after mile, and so intensely hot and breathless
as to be almost unbearable, causing the perspiration to run in drops
off the wet, shining, varnished skins of the almost naked blacks. In
going through places where the grass has nearly choked up all signs of
a path, it is necessary to send in advance all the blacks of the party,
so as to open aside and widen it sufficiently to allow the traveller in
his hammock to be carried and pushed through the dense high mass: even
if there be a moderate breeze blowing it is, of course, completely shut
out; the perspiration from the negroes is wiped on the grass as they
push through it, now shoving it aside with their hands and arms, now
forcing their way through it backwards, and it is most disagreeable
to have the wetted leaves constantly slapping one’s face and hands, to
say nothing of the horrible stink from their steaming bodies. It is a
powerful odour, and the quiet hot air becomes so impregnated with it
as to be nearly overpowering. It is difficult to compare it with any
other disagreeable animal smell; it is different from that of the white
race, and the nearest comparison I can give is a mixture of putrid
onions and rancid butter well rubbed on an old billy-goat. In some it
is a great deal worse than in others, but none, men or women, are free
from it, even when their bodies are at rest or not sensibly perspiring;
and it being a natural secretion of the skin, of course no amount of
washing or cleanliness will remove it. The mulattoes, again, have it,
but different, and not generally so strong as the pure black, and with
a more acid odour, reminding one strongly of the caprylic and similar
acids known to chemists. The natives themselves naturally do not notice
it, and after some time of residence in the country, except in very
powerful cases, strangers become comparatively accustomed to it, and,
as showing how a person may in time become used to nastiness, I have
even partaken of a dish in which were some forcemeat balls that I had
previously watched the negro cook roll with the palm of his hand on his
naked stomach, to make them of a proper round shape, without spoiling
my appetite or preventing me from joining in the deserved praise of the
stew that contained them.
The Portuguese and Brazilians call the smell that exhales from the
bodies of the blacks “Catinga,” and I witnessed an amusing instance
of its effect on a dog, when it smelt it for the first time. On my
second voyage to Angola, I took with me a beautiful “perdigueiro,” or
Portuguese pointer, from Lisbon; this animal had evidently never smelt
a negro before our arrival at Ilha do Principe (Prince’s Island); for,
on two of the blacks from the custom-house boat coming on the poop, it
began sniffing the air at some distance from where they were standing,
and carefully and slowly approached them with its neck and nose at full
stretch, with a look on its intelligent face of the greatest curiosity
and surprise. On approaching within three or four yards, the smell of
the blacks, who kept quite still, being afraid it might bite them,
seemed too much for its sensitive nose, and it sneezed and looked
perfectly disgusted. It continued to approach them and sneeze and
retreat repeatedly for some little time, evidently unable to get used
to the powerful perfume. The poor dog’s unmistakeable expression of
thorough dislike to the odour of the black race was most comical.
An old Brazilian mule that I had at Benguella could not bear the blacks
to saddle her or put her bridle and head-gear on; she would throw back
her ears, and suddenly make a snap with her teeth at the black who
attempted it. She was a very tame animal, and would be perfectly quiet
to a white man. She had been seventeen years in Benguella before she
came into my possession, but never became used to negroes; whether she
disliked them from their disagreeable odour, or from some other reason,
I could not discover; but, judging from the dog’s decided antipathy,
I presume their smell was her principal objection, and yet it is very
singular that wild animals in Africa will scent a white sooner than
a black hunter. I have heard this from many persons in Angola, both
blacks and whites. It would be interesting to know if our hunters at
the Cape have noticed the same thing. The fact that, notwithstanding
the “Catinga,” black hunters can lie in ambush, and antelope and other
game come so close to them that they can fire the whole charge of their
flint muskets, wadding and all, into them, is well known in Angola.
Whilst exploring for minerals in Cambambe, I was prevented for a
long time from visiting several localities, from the paths to them
being choked up with grass. It is difficult to imagine how exhausting
it is to push through thick, high grass; in a very short time one
becomes completely out of breath, and the arms hang powerless with the
exertion: the heat and suffocating stillness of the air may have as
much to do with this as the amount of force exerted to push aside the
yielding, rustling mass.
Shortly after the rains cease in May, the grass, having flowered and
attained its full growth, rapidly dries up under the hot sun, and is
then set on fire by the blacks, forming the wonderful “Queimadas,”
literally “burnings,” of the Portuguese, and “smokes” of the English in
the Bights. If only the leaves are sufficiently dry to catch fire, the
stems are left green, with a black ring at every joint or base of the
leaf, and the mass of whip-like stems then looks like a forest of long
porcupine quills. This is very disagreeable to travel through, as the
half-burnt stems spring back and cross in every direction behind the
front bearer of the hammock, and poke into the traveller’s face, and
thrash the hands when held up to save the eyes from injury, and after
a day’s journey one gets quite black, with eyes and throat sore and
parched from the charcoal dust and fine alkaline ash.
When the grass has become thoroughly dry, the effect of the “Queimada”
is indescribably grand and striking. In the daytime the line of fire
is marked by a long cloud of beautiful white steam-like smoke curling
slowly up, dense and high in the breathless air, in the most fantastic
forms against the clear blue sky. This cloud of smoke is closely
accompanied by a perfect flock of rapacious birds of every size and
description, from the magnificent eagle to the smallest hawk, circling
and sailing high and grandly in the air, and now and then swooping
down upon the unfortunate rats, mice, and small animals, snakes, and
other reptiles, burnt and left exposed by the conflagration. Near the
blazing grass the scene is very fine, a deafening noise is heard as
of thousands of pistol shots, caused by the imprisoned air bursting
every joint of the long stems, and the loud rush and crackling of the
high sheet of flame, as it catches and consumes the dry upright straw.
One is inspired with awe and a feeling of puny insignificance before
the irresistible march of the flames that are rapidly destroying the
enormous extent of the dense, nearly impenetrable mass of vegetation
covering the surface of the country, leaving it perfectly bare with the
exception of a few charred root stumps of grass, and a few stunted,
scorched shrubs and trees. At night the effect is wonderfully fine:
the vast wall of fire is seen over hill and valley, as far as the eye
can reach; above the brilliant leaping flames, so bright in the clear
atmosphere of the tropical night, vast bodies of red sparks are shot up
high into the cloud of smoke, which is of the most magnificent lurid
hue from the reflection of the grand blaze below.
No trees or shrubs are consumed by the burning of the grasses,
everything of a larger growth being too green to take fire; a whitening
or drying of the leaves is generally the only effect even where the
light annual creepers growing on them have been consumed. Forest
or jungle in Angola, unlike other countries, never burns, and is
consequently the refuge of all the larger animals and birds from the
“Queimadas,” which are undoubtedly the cause in many parts of Angola of
the great scarcity of animal and insect life which strikes a traveller
expecting to meet everywhere the great abundance known to exist in the
interior.
Great is the alarm of the natives on the near approach of these fires
to their towns, the whole population turning out, and with branches
of trees beating out the fire. It is seldom, however, that their huts
are consumed, as the villages are generally situated in places where
trees and shrubs abound, and the different huts are mostly separated by
hedges of different species of Euphorbiaceæ. Many villages are entirely
surrounded by a thick belt of these milky-juiced plants, effectually
guarding them from any chance of fire from the grass outside. Where the
huts are not thus protected, the danger, of course, is very great, but
the natives sometimes take the precaution of setting fire to patches
of the grass to clear a space around the huts or village. There is no
danger in travelling from these grass fires, for, when they are seen
approaching, their rate of progress being slow, it is sufficient to set
fire to the dry grass to leeward to clear a space in which to encamp in
safety.
The change in vegetation is also accompanied by difference of climate,
but it is difficult to say whether they react on each other, and if
so, in what proportion. The rains are very much more abundant and
constant towards the interior of the country, where the vegetation is
densest: on the coast the rains are generally very deficient, and some
seasons entirely fail; this is more especially the case south of about
12° Lat., several successive rainy seasons passing without a single
drop of rain falling. A three years’ drought in the interior of Loanda
is still vividly remembered, the inhabitants, from their improvident
habits, perishing miserably by thousands from starvation. In my mining
explorations at Benguella, I was at Cuio under a cloudless sky for
twenty-six months, in the years 1863 and 1864, with hardly a drop of
water falling.
I had under my charge at that time twenty-four white men, and between
400 and 600 blacks at work on a copper deposit, mining and carrying
ore to the coast, distant about four miles; and no one accustomed to
a constant supply of water, can imagine the anxiety and work I had to
go through to obtain the necessary amount for that large number of
thirsty people, very often barely sufficient for drinking purposes; no
water fit for drinking or cooking was to be had nearer than six miles,
and as no bullock carts could be employed, it had all to be carried in
kegs on men’s shoulders, and by a troop of the most miserable, small,
idiotically stubborn donkeys that can be imagined from the Cape de
Verde Islands. It was impossible always to be looking after the blacks
told off daily on water duty, and words cannot express the annoyance
and vexation that the rascals constantly caused us, by getting drunk on
the road, wilfully damaging the kegs, selling the water to natives on
their way back, bringing the filthiest water out of muddy pools instead
of clear from the proper place, sleeping on the road, and keeping all
waiting, sometimes without a drop of water, very often till far into
the night. This was no joke when we were thirsty, hungry, dusty, and
tired, after a hot day’s work blasting rock, breaking up copper ore
in the sun at the mine in the bottom of a circular valley, where the
little air above seldom reached, and where the dazzling white sand and
gneiss rock, bare of nearly all vegetation, reflected and intensified
the glare and heat almost unbearably in the hot season.
In going from north to south the character of the vegetation changes
very insensibly from the River Congo to Mossamedes. As far as
Ambrizzette the Mateba palm (_Hyphæne Guineensis_) is very abundant.
This palm-tree, unlike the oil-palm, which is only found near water,
or in rich soil, grows on the dry cliffs and country of the littoral
region very abundantly as far as about Ambriz. The leaves of this
palm-tree are employed to make small bags, in which most of the
ground-nuts are exported from the coast. The Cashew-tree (_Anacardium
occidentale_) grows on this part of the coast from Congo to Ambrizzette
still more abundantly, in many places there being hardly any other tree
or shrub; it is also very plentiful again around Loanda, but to the
south it nearly disappears. A thin stemmy Euphorbia, nearly leafless,
is a principal feature of the landscape about Loanda, and gives it a
very dull and arid appearance. The cactus-like, upright Euphorbia is a
notable characteristic of the whole coast of Angola.
South of Benguella the country is extremely arid, the gneiss, gypsum,
and basalt, of which it is principally composed, appearing only to
afford nourishment to a very limited vegetation, both in number or
species, principally spiny trees and shrubs with numbers of dreadful
recurved prickles, nearly bare of leaves a great part of the year,--and
over immense tracts of very uneven ground even these are scarce: only
the gigantic Euphorbias, and the stunted roots of grass sparingly
distributed, break the monotony of a silent, dry, rocky desert.
A very curious creeper, a species of Cassytha, is extremely abundant
in Benguella, covering the shrubs and small trees closely with its
network of leafless string-like stems. The _Sansevieria Angolensis_ is
very plentiful all over the littoral region of Angola; the flat-leaved
species (_S. longiflora_) is only noticed north from Ambriz to Congo,
and only growing very near the sea: the S. Angolensis is but rarely
seen with it, and it is very curious how distinctly these two species
are separated. In the immediate vicinity of all the rivers and streams
of Angola the vegetation is, as might be expected, generally very
luxuriant, particularly north of Benguella.
The total absence of horned cattle among the natives on the coast,
from the River Congo to south of the River Quanza, is very remarkable;
due, I believe, as much to some influence of climate, or poisonous or
irritant nature of the vegetation, as to the neglect of the natives
to breed them, though a few small herds of cattle to be seen at
Ambrizzette and Quissembo belonging to the white traders, and brought
by the natives far from the interior, appear to thrive very well, and
several Portuguese have bred fine herds at the River Loge, about three
miles from Ambriz; they would not thrive, however, at Bembe, where
those that were purchased from the ivory caravans from the interior
gradually became thin and died. The natives south of the Quanza beyond
the Quissama country, as far as Mossamedes, breed large numbers of
cattle--their principal wealth, in fact, consisting of their herds.
The district of Loanda cannot supply itself with cattle sufficient for
its moderate consumption, a large proportion having to be brought from
Cambambe and Pungo Andongo and even much farther from the interior.
South of the Congo there is only one navigable river, the Quanza, in 9°
20´ S., and even the bar and mouth of this are shifty, and so shallow
as only to admit vessels drawing not more than five or six feet of
water, and this only at high tides. The Rivers Dande and Bengo are only
navigable by barges for a few miles; others, such as the Ambrizzette,
Loge, Novo Redondo, Quicombo, Egito, Anha, Catumbella, and Luache,
barely admit the entrance of a canoe, and their bars are often closed
for a considerable time in the dry season; the beds of others are
completely dried up for miles inland at that time of the year, and it
is very curious to see the level sandy bed without water between the
luxuriant and creeper-covered banks, and the borders of sedge and grass.
Although dry on the surface, cool delicious water is met with at a few
inches below. I shall never forget, on my first journey into Cambambe,
the haste with which we pushed forward, on an intensely hot morning,
in order to arrive at the River Mucozo, a small stream running into
the Quanza. We had encamped the night before at a place where only a
small supply of water was to be had from a filthy and muddy hole, and
so thick and ochrey was it that, even after boiling and straining,
it was nearly undrinkable; on reaching the high banks of the Mucozo,
great was my disappointment to see the bed of the river one long
expanse of dry sand shining in the hot sun, and my hope of water, as
I thought, gone! Not so the blacks, who raised a loud shout as they
caught sight of it, dashed in a race down the banks, and throwing
themselves on the sand quickly scooped out a hole about six inches deep
with their hands, and lying flat on their bellies stuck their faces in
it, and seemed never to finish drinking to their hearts’ content the
inexpressibly refreshing, cool, filtered water. After having only dirty
and thick water to drink, not improved by coffee or bad rum, after a
long, hot day’s journey, tired and exhausted, the ground for a bed,
mosquitoes, and a smoky fire on each side to keep them off, fleas and
other biting things from the sand, that nip and sting but are not seen
or caught, snatches of sleep, feverish awakening in the morning, with
parched mouth, the perspiration dried on the face and skin, gritty
and crystallized and salt to the feel and taste, no water to drink or
wash with, the sun out and shining strong again almost as soon as it
is daylight, and hurry, hurry, through dry grass and sand without a
breath of air, and with the thermometer at 90° in the shade, for four
or five hours before we reached the Mucozo--it was no wonder I was
disinclined to move from the place till the afternoon came, and the
great heat of the day was passed; or that I thought the water, fresh
and cold from its clean sandy bed, the most delicious drink that could
be imagined!
The delight of a drink of pure cold water in hot climates has over and
over again been described by all travellers, but it is impossible to
realize it fully without experiencing the sensations that precede and
cause the thirst that only cold water seems to satisfy.
The River Luache, at Dombe Grande, near the sea, in the province of
Benguella, is dry for some miles inland every year, and its bed of
pure, clean, deep sand is as much as half a mile broad at that place.
The first great rains in the interior generally come down the dry
beds of these rivers suddenly, like a great torrent or wave, and I
was fortunate enough to be at Dombe Grande once when the water came
down the Luache from the interior. It was a grand sight to see a wave
the whole breadth of the river, and I should judge about eight feet
high, driving before and carrying with it an immense mass of trees
and branches, roots, sedges, and grasses all confused and rolling
irresistibly to the sea, with a dull rushing roar, quite unlike the
noise one would imagine a body of water to make, but more like a
rush of rocks down a mountain in the distance; and very strange and
agreeable was the change in the landscape--a broad desert of white sand
suddenly transformed into a vast running river of fresh water, bringing
gladness to all living things.
The sandy bars of some of the other small rivers of Angola become
closed sometimes for several months, but the stream remains of about
the same volume, or opens out into a pool or lake, or partly dries up
into lovely sedgy pools inhabited by wild-fowl of various kinds, and
fields of beautiful aquatic grasses and papyrus plants, in which I
have often seen caught by hand the singular fresh-water fish “Bagre”
(_Clarias Capensis_, _Bagrus_, &c.) vigorously alive, left behind by
the diminishing waters, in grassy swampy places where the foot hardly
sank ankle deep in water, and where it was certainly not deep enough
to cover them. The dry sandy beds of rivers in the rainless season
are often completely covered with a magnificent growth of the Palma
Christi, or Castor Oil plant, with its beautiful large leaves. This
I have noticed more particularly in the district of Novo Redondo and
Benguella.
Sharks, so frightfully dangerous in the surf of the West Coast, are
unknown south of the River Congo. I have never heard of a person being
attacked by one, although at Loanda the white population bathe off
the island in front of the town, and blacks dabble about in the sea
everywhere, and swim to and from the boats and barges.
No strikingly high mountain, I believe, exists in Angola; no hills of
any great importance till we arrive at the first rise, which, as we
have seen, extends the whole length of Angola at a distance of from
thirty to sixty miles from the sea. The second and third elevations
contain some fine mountain or hill ranges, as at Bembe, Pungo Andongo,
Cazengo, Mucellis, and Capangombe. To the south of Benguella as far as
Mossamedes flat-topped or table hills, perfectly bare of vegetation,
are a very prominent feature, seen from the sea; they are of basalt,
and are about 200 or 300 feet in height, and are in many places the
only remains left of a higher level. In others, this higher level still
exists for a considerable extent, deeply cut by narrow gorges and
ravines leading towards the sea, with nearly perpendicular sides.