A TROPICAL JUNGLE 



mud beach! We drew a deep breath and looked 

 around us. 



Mangrove thicket to the edge of the slimy ooze; 

 trees behind — that was all we could see. We gave 

 our attention to the business of getting our men, our 

 effects, and ourselves ashore. The ooze proved to be 

 just above knee deep. The porters had a fearful 

 and floundering time, and received much obvious 

 comment from us perched in the bow of the launch. 

 Finally everything was debarked. F. and I took off 

 our boots; but our gunbearers expressed such horror 

 at the mere thought of our plunging into the mud, 

 that we dutifully climbed them pick-a-back and were 

 carried. The hard shell beach was a hundred feet 

 away, occupying a little recess where the persistent 

 tough mangroves drew back. From it led a narrow 

 path through the thicket. We waved and shouted 

 a farewell to the crews of the launch and the dhow. 



The path for a hundred feet was walled in by the 

 mangroves through which scuttled and rattled the 

 big land crabs. Then suddenly we found ourselves 

 in a story-book, tropical, paradise. The tall coco 

 palms rose tufted above everything; the fans of the 

 younger palms waved below; bananas thrust the 

 banners of their broad leaves wherever they could 

 find space; creepers and vines flung the lush luxuri- 

 ance of their greenery over all the earth and into 



8i 



