The march was through a pleasant park-like country, and after crossing a considerable number of fordable rivulets, we arrived about midday at the huts of Ngoly. At Ngoly, over a surface of about eight square miles, we found various groves of the Terminalia macroptera, having very much the look of a wood of European oaks. In these regions any continuance of a single species of tree or plant is very rare, and the bush-forests are generally remarkable for the great diversity of species which is found on a limited area. The Terminalia is to be classed amongst that small number of trees of which regular groves, in what we call forests, rise to the view. It grows, as may readily be observed, upon the gentle depressions of a soil sufficiently rich, but which is yet too dry for the formation of the tall grass of the steppes, being watered only by currents which are formed during the rains, and of which we crossed the remnants during the dry months of winter. Between lat. 5° and 3° N., in the longitude under which we were travelling, the equatorial zone of the continual rainfall decidedly suffers an interruption, and the zenith altitudes of the sun cannot be said to bear a due proportion to the largest annual fall of rain.
The forests of the Terminalia are remarkable for the general deficiency of undergrowth or bushwood which they exhibit, a circumstance that arises from the general inability of woody plants to endure so moist a soil. The large proportion of the trees and shrubs of the country thrive much better in the rocky regions of the ironstone, and if ever a grove establishes itself where the ground is wet, it soon gets as clear of undergrowth as though all had been taken away by the hand of man, and ere long it assumes quite a northern aspect.
VOLUNTEER HUNTSMEN.
The landscape in Africa presents to a large extent examples of trees which only cast off their foliage fitfully. In contrast to these, the Terminalia annually throws off all its leaves as soon as the rains are over, and throughout our winter months it is perfectly bare. It grows to a height of about thirty or forty feet, and by its deeply-scored black bark and the general character of its ramifications, it may be said to be not unlike the glutinous alder of the north.
I passed the afternoon in a charming wood chasing the hartebeests (Antilope caama) which were abundant everywhere over this attractive hunting-ground. Their leather-coloured coats stood out in glaring contrast to the dark tree-stems; but the lack of underwood left our extensive encampment so thoroughly exposed, that the animals took alarm betimes, and were difficult to reach. Accordingly after an hour’s fatigue, I had to content myself (as would happen again and again) with a number of guinea-fowl, which were a never-failing and never-palling contribution to our cuisine. On all my hunting excursions I invariably found myself accompanied by a regular troop of people who made the chase a matter of great difficulty, but who nevertheless considered their services indispensable. My own three negroes carried the portfolios for the plants, and my rifles; but from the bearers there was always a swarm of volunteers who came to act as pointers, prompted to their extra exertions, partly from a desire to get the lion’s share of what might fall, and partly from that irrepressible love of hunting which seemed indigenous to their very nature.
As a matter of botanical interest I observed the frequency with which the wild Phœnix occurs in the low district all around Ngoly. Most probably this is the parent-stock of the date-palm; the time in which its fruit is here ripe is the month of July.
Up betimes on the morning of our third day’s march, I took my place at the front of our caravan, close behind the standard-bearer, in the hope of getting near enough to secure a shot at some hartebeest that might be taken by surprise. In the woods the animals could be seen in numbers as great as on the previous evening; they skulked behind the black stems of the trees, keeping a vigilant look-out, but as soon as anyone attempted to leave the procession and approach them, off they were with a bound, and scampering away in a zigzag career, regained the wilderness.
For a full hour the way proceeded through the wood, and then we entered a low-lying steppe which brought us to the running water of the little river Teh or Tee. As we approached we saw a herd of buffaloes betake themselves to flight, and, snorting and brandishing their tails, dash into the stream; these brutes, however, are here as elsewhere quite easily surprised by an adept. Flowing rather rapidly, the Teh is between twenty and thirty feet in breadth, and passes along wooded banks which gave me my first introduction to the flora of the Niam-niam. The botanical treasures of this district, I may venture perhaps to call the “bank or gallery flora,” in contradistinction to that extensive class of vegetation which predominates over the wide steppes around. Large Scitamineæ contribute an essential feature, and there is an Oncoba which bears upon its leafless wood blossoms that are conspicuous for their numerous stamens. This Oncoba is here found in its most northerly abode, but its growth is wide-spread as far as Benguela.
Unfortunately there was little leisure for me to enjoy this attractive entrée to the flora of the land. We had to hurry on, and passed quickly into a region where the tall unburnt grass made the route indistinguishable to all but an expert, and where it was impossible to see more than a few paces in advance.
VALLEY OF THE MONGOLONGBOH.