Far
to the south lay the Serna or prairillon of Sanga-Tanga, a
rolling patch, "or, on a field vert," backed by the usual dark
belt of the same, and fronted by straggling dots that emerged
from the wave--they proved to be a thin line of trees along
shore. We were lying inside the mouth of the "Habanyaa" alias the
Shark River, which flows along the south of a high grassy dome,
streaked here and there with rows of palms, and broken into the
semblance of a verdure-clad crater. According to the people the
Nkonje (Squalus) here is not a dangerous "sea-tiger" unless a man
wear red or carry copper bracelets; it is caught with hooks and
eaten as by the Chinese and the Suri Arabs. The streamlet is a
favourite haunt of the hippopotamus; a small one dived when it
sighted us, and did not reappear. It was the only specimen that I
saw during my three years upon the West African Coast,--a great
contrast to that of Zanzibar, where half a dozen may be shot in a
single day. The musket has made all the difference.
At 6 A.M. on Friday, March 28, the boat was safely carried over
the bar of Shark River, and we found ourselves once more hugging
the shore southwards.
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