We
sighed for more vivid flashes, but after twenty minutes they
dimmed and died away, still showing the "bush"-silhouette on
either side. The tide rushed out in strength under the amphibious
forest--all who know the West Coast will appreciate the position.
It was impossible to advance or to remain in this devil's den,
the gig bumped at every minute, and the early flood would
probably crush her against the trees. So we dropped down to the
nearest "open," which we reached at 9.30 P.M.
After enduring a third tornado we grounded, and the crew sprang
ashore, saying that they were going to boil plantains on the
bank. I made snug for the night with a wet waterproof and a strip
of muslin, to be fastened round the mouth after the fashion of
Outram's "fever guard," and shut my lips to save my life, by the
particular advice of Dr. Catlin. The first mosquito piped his "Io
Paean" at 8 P.M.; another hour brought legions, and then began the
battle for our blood. I had resolved not to sleep in the fetid
air of the jungle; time, however, moved on wings of lead; a dull
remembrance of a watery moon, stars dimly visible, a southerly
breeze, and heavy drops falling from the trees long haunted me.
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