HOMEWARD BOUND 227 



dreamt of Bimini and longed for a return of 

 the thrilling ecstasies of life's morning. It cut 

 me to the heart to have to shatter the fabric 

 of her dream. 



We decided to start for home on the follow- 

 ing morning. I was sorry not to be able to 

 visit the Orange River mouth and its 

 flamingo-haunted dunes — the Vigita Magna 

 of the old geographers. Strange, that I 

 should again have had to miss it when only a 

 few miles away. But I was really pressed for 

 time; other duties insistently called me hun- 

 dreds of miles thence. Nevertheless, had it 

 not been for the fog, I would have expended 

 another day. But the fog towards the coast 

 was denser than ever, and there did not appear 

 to be any reasonable likelihood of its clearing. 

 So I would forego the barren privilege of being 

 able to say that I had actually visited Vigita 

 Magna. 



Our homeward course lay more to the west- 

 ward, for we travelled along the coast until 

 close to Port Nolloth. We found fresh water 

 at various spots, trickling out of sand hum- 

 mocks in the immediate vicinity of the sea. 

 We had a comparatively easy journey, for 

 there were no steep, rocky ridges to cross. 



