160 BIRD-HUNTING 



with them. However, the rain got worse and 

 worse, the wind rose, the thunder rolled just over 

 our heads, and the lightning ran in sheets over the 

 water. It was a terrible day, and several times we 

 took refuge behind a tree before we could proceed. 

 After some hours of this my boatmen at last refused 

 to go on. Their hands shook, their teeth chattered, 

 and their dusky faces went an unearthly pallid blue- 

 grey colour. They were evidently 'done,' and 

 absolutely unable to proceed. The fact is these 

 Turkish fishermen, though muscular and very 

 strong, are soft, and unable to stand bad weather. 

 The day was certainly as bad as I have ever 

 experienced ; but I am sure no English boatman or 

 fisherman would have been in such a state of collapse 

 as they were. 



There was no help for it, ot course, and I was 

 compelled to return, nolens volens. The next day 

 we tried again, this time taking my interpreter, 

 Djouraschkovitch. Again we had heavy rain on 

 the way, but eventually it cleared up, and we 

 reached a submerged forest where the nests were 

 supposed to be. The interpreter was left on a 

 sandy island while we attempted to force the 

 londra (boat) into the forest. It was, I saw at 

 once, too big for the work. The trunks were close 

 to one another and matted together in inextricable 

 confusion with fallen trees and branches, creepers, 



