"It was not the uplands of the maritime region, with their millions of ravines and narrow, oven-hot valleys, and bald grass tops, and limited bits of grassy plateaus, with here and there a grove of jungly forest scattered like islets amid the grassy wastes, that I strove for; it was this million square miles of almost level area, which we may call the kernel, that was worth the trouble of piercing the two hundred and thirty-five miles of thick, rude mountain husk which separates it from the energies of Europeans, who, could they but reach it, would soon teach the world what good might come out of Africa."
At the junction of the Ruki River with the Congo, Stanley established a settlement, first called Equator Station, then Equatorville, as it is situated on the Equator.
Proceeding always up stream, Stanley passed through a perfect archipelago; for islets without number dotted the river current.
Here the forest trees attained a height of from one hundred and fifty to two hundred feet. The underbrush was so dense as to require the use of a hatchet before it could be penetrated.
While passing these "green-walled straits," Stanley had an experience with one of the violent storms sometimes met with in a tropical country.
With a sudden rustle and roar, as though mile after mile of forest were buffeted by a mighty whirlwind, such a storm begins.
The river, which a moment before was like glass, now becomes disturbed by waves, which increase in size and strength each minute.
Huge trees, holding their burdens of parasites and creepers, sway to and fro, and shriek and moan, as if in mortal agony.
The wind sweeps the leaves before it in perfect clouds, and then down comes the rain.
Not a gentle shower, but a genuine rain of the tropics. It drenches one to the skin in a twinkling. It pelts one with hailstones as large as marbles.