A MARCH ALONG THE COAST 



however, we most unexpectedly came through a 

 dense coconut grove plump on the banks of the 

 harbour at Kilindini. 



Here, after making arrangements for the transport 

 of our safari, when it should arrive, we entrusted 

 ourselves to a small boy and a cranky boat. An 

 hour later, clad in tropical white, with cool drinks 

 at our elbows, we sat in easy chairs on the veranda 

 of the Mombasa Club. 



The clubhouse is built on a low cliff at the water's 

 edge. It looks across the blue waters of the bay to a 

 headland crowned with coco palms; and beyond 

 the headland to the Indian Ocean. The cool trades 

 sweep across that veranda. We idly watched a lone 

 white oarsman pulling strongly against the wind 

 through the tide rips, evidently bent on exercise. 

 We speculated on the incredible folly of wanting 

 exercise; and forgot him. An hour later a huge 

 saffron yellow squall rose from China 'cross the way, 

 filled the world with an unholy light, lashed the 

 reluctant sea to whitecaps, and swooped screaming 

 on the coco palms. Police boats to rescue the idiot 

 oarsman! Much minor excitement! Great rushing 

 to and fro! We continued to sit in our lounging 

 chairs, one hand on our cool long drinks. 



icp 



