A Journal of a Tour in the Congo Free State | Page 9

here only to lighten the
Leopoldville so that she could pass a certain bar higher up the river.
The cargo consisted of coal in the shape of brickets, cement, rice, oil,
cloth, clothes, beads, salt and general provisions. As soon as sufficient
had been removed, the two lighters were attached one to each side of

the ship and we started up the main stream, which here runs between
the south or Portuguese bank and a series of islands. All these are
covered with dense forest the only living things visible being great
black eagles with white wings. On the left bank of the river we pass
Malela, a station for collecting bamboos, and soon after Kissange on
the opposite side where palm oil is made and shipped. A little higher up,
the country opens out and a range of hills becomes visible in the
distance, the plain between being covered with coarse grass six or
seven feet high, relieved at intervals by solitary palm trees. This is all
Portuguese territory, the Congo State here possessing only a narrow
strip of land along the northern bank. The course of the river here is
very sinuous, winding in and out among the hills, the curves being cut
more sharply each day as the water eats into the sand and carries it to
be digested in the great stomach of the Atlantic.
In this district both the State and the Portuguese have started large
farms for breeding European cattle which thrive here satisfactorily.
Higher up a solitary rock overhangs the left bank. This is known as
Fetish Rock from the legend that the natives used to throw live people
from it into the river as sacrifices. This is possibly true but there is little
evidence to show that the natives of the Congo ever sacrificed either
living or dead to propitiate anyone or anything.
Near here we anchor for the night and are welcomed by a host of most
noisy and vicious mosquitoes who have a particular partiality to good
healthy European-fed blood. Again we are delayed to unload and this
time into a small steamer the _Lagoon_--for the ship is still too deep in
the water to cross the bar. This sandy obstruction has an unpleasant
habit of shifting its position and it is necessary therefore to make
careful soundings every voyage at this time of the year when the water
is low. These are carried out by Captain Sparrow and Mr. Wright the
chief Congo pilot with the aid of a most ingenious sounding machine. It
consists of a simple pulley wheel raised on a standard about ten feet
above the deck of a small pilot steamer. Over this passes a line
weighted at both ends but unequally, and both weights hang down in
the water, the heavier naturally being on the bottom of the river. To
prevent this line--which corresponds to the ordinary lead line--trailing,

as the boat moves forward, a second line is fixed to the weight and
passes under water to the bows of the vessel where it is attached As the
vessel passes slowly through the water, the weight rises and falls
according to the level of the bottom, and the counterweight hauls in the
slack of the line, which is marked in the usual way by coloured tapes.
At any moment therefore, the depth of water can be determined by
observing the tapes. There is now only 15-1/2 feet on the bar, so it is
necessary to lighten the Leopoldville still more before it will be
possible to cross. Thus early one of the chief difficulties in the Congo
the transport of goods--is demonstrated.
A fine crocodile lies asleep on the bank within easy range as we go
back to the ship in the launch, but no one has a rifle so his dreams are
undisturbed. As the Leopoldville will not be able to reach Boma until
the morrow, we decide to go on in the Heron, a small ship which calls
for all the State passengers. After Fetish Rock, the river bends sharply
to the right and soon after Boma is in sight. At this distance however,
the town merely appears as groups of white houses amid trees backed
by green hills. Guarding the approach is a strong looking fort which
already has a history, for it was captured by rebels and held for one or
two days a few years ago.
As the sun was seeking his couch we arrive at the iron pier at Boma on
which we find Mr. Underwood, the Director of the well known English
trading house of Messrs. Hatton and Cookson. With him we walk down
the main business street of the town; a wide shady road lined with
shops, hotels, and restaurants and traversed by a steam tram. At the