ON THE RIVERS AND CREEKS. 179 



go. However it may be attached to the bottom 

 by a thousand anchors, it has to give way when 

 the rise takes place, and here the hollow stems of 

 the grass help in its own destruction. By their 

 numbers they act as buoys, drag the great tangle 

 of trees and bushes to the surface, unloose their own 

 anchorage until the mass sails away, ever on and 

 on, to be broken in pieces and dashed on the shore, 

 or perhaps carried far out to sea. 



Thousands of floating trees and patches of grass 

 are carried down by every flood, and are not un- 

 commonly found out of sight of land. Sometimes 

 a great tree resembles a wreck, and ships have been 

 known to steer out of their courses and send boats 

 to see if anything living could be found in the tangle 

 of presumed spars and rigging. As may be sup- 

 posed, such a mass as we have described often 

 plays sad havoc with the river banks along its 

 course. Now it is driven against the shore on one 

 side, and carries away a clump of mocca-moccas, 

 and farther on sweeps a little thicket before it ; 

 now a part of the mass gets entangled in the props 

 of a mangrove, and for a short time the whole is 

 brought to a stand-still. Something is bound to 

 give way either the mangrove is dragged from its 

 anchorage in the mud, or the floating island must 

 part with some of its constituents. The flood is 



