Lost in the Jungle; Narrated for Young PeopleDu Chaillu, Paul B. (Paul Belloni)
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Lost in the Jungle; Narrated for Young People
Du Chaillu, Paul B. (Paul Belloni)
Africa, West -- Description and travel; Africa, West -- Description and travel -- Juvenile literature
At the mouth of the Niembouai, on a high hill, stood an abandoned
Bakalai village called Akaka; the chief, whom I had known, was dead, and
the people had fled for fear of the evil spirits. Nothing was left of
the village but a few plantain-trees; the walls of the huts had all
tumbled down.
How dreary all seemed for miles round Akaka. The lands were overflowed,
and, as I have said before, were covered with reeds. Far off against the
sky, toward the east-northeast, towered high mountain peaks, which I
hoped to explore. They rose blue against the sky, and seemed, as I
looked at them through my telescope, to be covered with vegetation to
their very tops. These mountains were the home of wild men and still
wilder beasts. I thought at once how nice it would be for me to plant
the Stars and Stripes on the highest mountains there.
As we advanced farther up the river the mountains were lost sight of,
and still we paddled up the Niembouai. Canoe after canoe closed upon us,
until at last the whole fleet of King Quengueza were abreast of the
royal canoe, when I fired a gun, which was responded to by a terrific
yell from all the men.
Then Quengueza, with a loud voice, gave the order to make for a spot to
which he pointed, where we were to land and build our camp. Soon
afterward we reached the place, and found the land dry, covered with
huge trees to protect us from the intense heat of the sun, from the
heavy dews of night, and from slight showers.
The men all scattered into the forest, some to cut long poles and short
sticks for our beds; others went to collect palm-leaves to make a kind
of matting to be used as roofing. The first thing to be done was for the
people to make a nice olako for their king and myself.
Our shelter was hardly finished when a terrible rainstorm burst upon us,
preceded by a most terrific tornado, for we were in the month of March.
By sunset the storm was all over; it cooled the air deliciously, for the
heat had been intense. At noon, under the shade of my umbrella while in
the canoe, the thermometer showed 119° Fahrenheit.
We had brought lots of food, and many women had accompanied us, who were
to fish, and were also to cook for the people. The harpoons were well
taken care of, for we fully expected to harpoon a few of the _mangas_.
The manga canoes were to arrive during the night, for the canoes we had
were not fit for the capture of such large game.
In the evening old Quengueza was seated by the side of a bright fire;
the good old man seemed quite happy. He had brought with him a jug of
palm wine, from which he took a drink from time to time, until he began
to feel the effects of the beverage, and became somewhat jolly. His
subjects were clustered in groups around several huge fires, which
blazed so brightly that the whole forest seemed to be lighted by them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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