HUNTING AND HUNTED IN BELGIAN CONGO 



the tropics, illuminated the lake for miles around, showing 

 white crested waves right away to the mountains whose 

 rugged outlines were clearly discernible. From them 

 the roars of thunder re-echoed tenfold. The leaves on 

 the trees and bushes were being torn and swept about 

 by the wind. The terrible crashes of thunder ceased 

 for a moment now and again, and then, as though they 

 grudged a second's quietude, they would again send the 

 whole universe trembling, to the accompaniment of 

 violet coloured flashes of lightning, which seemed momen- 

 tarily to blind one. It certainly was a grand sight, but 

 as the rain penetrated the old piece of canvas that did 

 duty for an awning and let great volumes of water in 

 upon us, our admiration of the scene was lessened by 

 our discomfort. Blankets, clothes and everything, in- 

 cluding ourselves, were soaking. I shall never forget 

 that night as we sat wrapped up in the blankets, being 

 tortured by the myriads of mosquitoes that had gained 

 admission under the net, and water pouring down from 

 the awning all over us. It was impossible to make 

 ourselves heard in the awful driving storm, with its 

 almost incessant crashes of thunder, as we looked out 

 on the angry waves that dashed against the boats with 

 increasing fury. We were fortunately moored firmly by 

 the beach and escaped the terrible shaking up we must 

 have experienced had we been out on the open lake 

 without shelter. I have been through many a big 

 storm in the Indian Ocean, the Pacific, the Australian 

 Bight, and off Cape Agulhas, and I doubt whether our 

 boats would have come safely through the tempest that 

 blew that night. During a storm huge waves are to 

 be met with as far up the Nile as Koba, which stands 

 fully fifteen miles from the lake. Not infrequently these 

 troubled waters dash clear over the landing stage, which 

 stands over six feet out of the water. 



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