Lodges in the WildernessScully, W. C. (William Charles)
History
Lodges in the Wilderness
Scully, W. C. (William Charles)
Natural history -- South Africa; South Africa -- Description and travel
The sun sank; as the glare was withdrawn each salient detail of the
Titanic arena grew clearer and more definite against the background of
darkening blue. Then shadow gathered all into her fold, and it was upon
a pit whose black sides threatened to fall in and crush us, that the
stars of the zenith looked down.
It was deep in the night, but the heat still raged, for the sides of the
glowing rock-pit in which we lay continued to radiate what energy they
had absorbed while the sun still smote on them. We had emerged from
among the trees and built a large fire of drift-wood on a sandbank,--our
object being to obtain illumination. It was quite necessary to have a
bright light; from many of the logs poisonous centipedes, and an
occasional scorpion, were emerging. But even comparatively close to the
fire we could feel no increase of heat. My gun stood against a stone
some distance away. I picked the weapon up, but involuntarily dropped
it, for the barrel almost scorched my hand. And this at nearly
midnight!
But what were those creatures darting here and there; anon rushing
towards us over the livid surface of the sand? Horror. They were
tarantulas,--red, hairy creatures, larger than mice. Within a few
seconds there were hundreds of them circling around the fire with almost
incredible swiftness. The firelight had attracted them from the
cliff-chasms which yawned around us.
This was too much for flesh and blood to endure, so I beat a retreat to
the river and waded out until I reached a flat rock. This proved to be
uncomfortably hot, but the soles of my boots were thick, and I could
every now and then cool them in the water. However, a few yards away
lay a small island of sand, and on this I took refuge. From my retreat
I could see the fire and its environs. I did not think Africa contained
so many tarantulas as were then visible. They had the fire to
themselves, for every member of the party had fled.
The air still felt as though one were in a closed room. But the murmur
of the river became audible to an increasing degree on the western side,
and soon a hot breath of air struck us. After a fitful succession of
puffs a continuous wind set in,--a steady current, momentarily growing
cooler. This was the sea-breeze stealing up the river gorge from the
far-off Atlantic, rolling the mass of heated air before it and cooling
the piled rocks,--helping them to fling off the yoke of torment put upon
them by the cruel, arrogant sun. Soon the temperature began to fall
rapidly, so I waded back, made a wide detour so as to avoid the
tarantula-infested area, and fetched my kaross from where it lay among
the trees. I then returned to my sand-islet and there sank into blessed
sleep with the tepid water murmuring within a few feet of my weary head.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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