137 

 did not wish to have to point out to the French that this fish had 

 been under their very noses all the time, and they had not known 

 about it. They had had my leaflets, piles of them, for years, and 

 it seemed to be scarcely possible that they had used them to the 

 best advantage. Indeed, from what I learnt later it seemed that my 

 idea had been decried there as elsewhere. This mad South African ! 

 A Coelacanth here, preposterous ! But old man Coelacanth would 

 have enjoyed the joke. 



I went to the hold and tried to rest — what did tomorrow hold ? 

 Where time had slipped by before, now it was oozing past with 

 incredible tardiness. I looked out — Mofamede Island near 

 Pebane — phew ! that had been a narrow shave, my mind slipped 

 back. . . . We were at Pebane on one of our trips, and went out 

 from the river in a small and ancient tug to work at Mofamede, 

 a tiny island with a large reef, some miles out. We got some fine 

 stuff from the banks at low tide. . . . Then we went bombing out 

 among the coral heads on the seaward side. Quite a strong wind 

 was blowing and the surf was breaking heavily on the jagged reef. 

 Our bombs brought up very fine stuff, fishes of all kinds, many 

 that none of the crew had ever seen before. They all became very 

 excited, for fish is scarce in Pebane, and many big ones came up 

 that day, which the wind and waves drove towards the reef and 

 we had to go close in to collect them. While I was directing opera- 

 tions at the stern, the man at the wheel forgot all else watching fish 

 being netted at the sides. Suddenly my sixth sense made me look 

 up, and I found we were virtually on the reef. It was an awful 

 moment. I dashed forward, knocked the cox aside, took the wheel, 

 shouted *A re 1' [astern], and held on. It was a matter of inches, 

 waves and wind driving us on, and a slipping reverse gear barely 

 able to withstand them, let alone take us back. It was one of the 

 nearest shaves we have ever had. The surf was terrible and that 

 jagged coral nearly a mile from the island would have cut us to 

 pieces. ... I went on dreaming. A place of ill-omen, Pebane. 

 Once in a coaster, as we were on the way in at early dawn, I sat 

 watching my wife writhing in agony with acute food poisoning — 

 she was very near death. The sea was rough, the bar shallow, and 

 we bumped and bumped again, and a huge wave turned the 

 vessel so far over on her side that I held my breath. I could still hear 

 the crashes before she righted herself. What a morning that was ! . . . 



