90 A JOURNEY UP TRE RIVER CONGO, 
quite undistinguishable from the grey boughs and boles 
around him, but overcome with a spasm of tardy fear, he 
flounced out from his retreat, nearly knocked against the 
funnel of the steamer, and flapped his huge wings with 
frightful strivings to get away. 
Here and there the Congo became strewn with rocky 
islets, sparsely crested with trees; and in and out of these 
the stream was whirling and eddying and bubbling over 
the hidden rocks. We stopped at one of these islands, 
and at this spot the lighter we had been hitherto towing 
THE GIANT KINGFISHER (Ceryle maxim«). 
had to be made fast alongside the steam-launch, for 
together we were to cross a formidable whirlpool. When 
we turned the island we saw the vortex with great flakes 
of foam like balls of cotton-wool dancing madly in a per- 
petual round. Full pressure was put on, and in we went 
—wurra!—and out again, almost at right angles, so that 
some of the balls of foam, like bewildered captives in an 
enchanter’s magic circle, are set free by our sudden 
breaking through the meshes and go gaily floating down 
the stream. | 
Sometimes there are lone stretches of low rocks in the 
river, looking like rows of slates stacked in a builder's 
