C A M E R O O N 'S R I V E R , FROM A B O V E A K K W A T O W N .
CH AP TER X X V
ASCENT OF THE GREAT PEAK OF CAMEROONS— (Continued)
Wherein is recounted how the Voyager sets out from Buea, and goes uP
through the forest belt to the top of the S.E. crater of Mungo Mah
Lobeh, with many dilemmas and disasters that befell on the way.
September 22nd.— Wake at 5- Fine morning. Fine view
towards Cameroon River. The broad stretch of forest below,
and the water-eaten mangrove swamps below that, are all a
glorious indigo flushed with rose colour from “ the death of the
night,” as Kiva used to call the dawn. No one stirring till
six, when people come out of the huts, and stretch themselves
and proceed to begin the day, in the African’s usual perfunctory,
listless way. I am not stating this as a peculiar
tra it arising from his cerebral development; it is merely the
natural sequence of the nights he goes in for so cheerily:
Katzenjammer, is, I believe, the technical term.
My crew are worse than the rest. I go and hunt cook out.
He props open one eye, with difficulty, and yawns a yawn
that nearly cuts his head in two. I wake him up with a shock,
by saying I mean to go on up to-day, and want my chop, and
to start one time. He goes off and announces my horrible
intention to the others. Kefalla soon arrives upon the scene
full of argument, “ You no sabe this be Sunday, Ma?” says
he in a tone that tells he considers this settles the matter. I
“ sabe ” unconcernedly ; Kefalla scratches his head for other
argument, but he has opened with his heavy artillery ; which
betng repulsed throws his rear lines into confusion. Bum,
the head man, then turns up, sound asleep inside, but quite
ready to come. Bum, I find, is always ready to do what he is