Angola and the River Congo, vol. 2

by Joachim John Monteiro

In one of my excursions in this part of the coast, I saw the dead body of a black lying at the foot of one of these precipices, seemingly fallen from the top. It was nearly devoured by birds, crabs, and small animals. There is another road, a very good one, a few miles farther inland.

There are no elephants to be met with now on the coast at any part of Angola; the last were said to have been seen about Elephant Bay, from which it may probably have derived its name. They do come down occasionally on the Quissama side of the River Quanza, and one was lately shot at Bruto, most likely having swum the river.

On Cape Santa Maria, the southern point of the “Bahia dos Passaros” (Bay of Birds), there is an old marble column, placed there by the Portuguese in olden times to commemorate the discovery of this cape, in 1486, by the navigator Diogo Cam. I once went with a Portuguese in a boat from Cuio to Catara, a small bay beyond Cape Santa Maria. Our men had been rowing all the moonlight night long, and at daybreak we landed at the Bahia dos Passaros, and found an empty hut that had been occupied by a curer during the fishing season; this was taken possession of by our blacks, who went fast asleep in it, after hauling up the boat. We had our breakfast under the shade of the boat sail, and then followed their example. We had slept about a couple of hours when I was awakened by the loud cawing of the pretty white-banded crows of the coast (Corvus scapulatus). I threw a stone at the noisy birds, and happening to look in the direction of the sea, noticed that our boat was gone; I looked into the hut thinking our men had gone off with it in search of birds’ eggs, but they lay like logs, still fast asleep. I woke my companion, and we ran to the beach and saw our boat at the northern end of the bay slowly drifting away, the tide having risen and floated it while we slept. Our men ran along the beach and swam off to the boat, and we thanked the crows with the remains of our breakfast. It is astonishing how soon a number of these birds will appear after any one lands in these desolate bays, to pick up any food that may be left about. This bay derives its name from the number of sea-gulls that inhabit a high-peaked rock rising out of the sea at a short distance from the shore.

The River San Nicolau only runs in the rainy season, which is likewise the case with all the other rivers on this part of the coast, south of the River Quanza, and even this shifts its bar a mile or more to the north in the dry season.

At the little Bay of Baba, I saw a very extraordinary sight, and one that shows the great quantity of fish in the sea of that coast. I had started on foot early in the morning, from the house of a Portuguese who was engaged in the fishing trade, on my way to Mossamedes, and as I walked along the beach for more than a mile, I saw for the whole distance, in the calm water, a small species of fish, about a foot long, in countless numbers, packed side by side so closely as almost to touch one another, and their snouts touching the sand. Farther south, fish are said to be even more plentiful.

At Port Pinda a three-masted fishing vessel arrived with a crew of fishermen from Algarve, and they caught such quantities that they found the work of curing too hard, and they gradually gave up fishing, and employed their vessel in earning freights up and down the coast.

I was told by the captain of a British man-of-war that at Walwish Bay he had seen eight tons of fish taken at one haul of the seine net.

The town of Mossamedes (or Little Fish Bay of the English charts) is very prettily built on the shore of the little bay from which it derives its name. The houses are of stone, well built and commodious, and the town has quite a clean and imposing appearance as seen from the sea. The bay is very pretty, and protected from the “calema” or surf. A fort commands it, which is built on a low cliff immediately south of the town. At a little distance off a low line of hills hides the further view of the interior, and all around nothing but an arid waste of pure white sand meets the eye with a very depressing effect. Three miles to the north are the “hortas” or “kitchen gardens” of the Portuguese, where the fertile sandy soil grows every kind of root and vegetable. The common potato grows there in perfection, and was the principal article of cultivation a few years ago, when the American whalers used to call there from the fishery on the coast. The English cruisers also used to touch there for cattle and fresh provisions. Cattle used to be so abundant that the ordinary price of a bullock was from ten shillings to one pound. There is a considerable quantity of sugar-cane grown there and converted into rum, several thousand pipes being the yearly production. The little River Giraul runs through these plantations, and its overflow sometimes causes considerable damage.

I saw excellent gum-arabic at Mossamedes, brought from the Gambos country, and I sent a large tinfull of it to London, where it was reported upon as being equal to the best quality in the market.

At Mossamedes oxen are trained for riding; the cartilage of the nose is perforated, and through the opening a thin, short piece of round iron is passed, at the ends of which are attached the reins, and the animal is guided by them in the same manner as a horse. A good bullock will trot well, and even gallop for a short distance. They are most useful in that country, and are very comfortable to ride. The saddle is made of leather, and is only a well-padded cushion with stirrups. A riding ox will go faster, if required, than blacks on foot can accompany it, but as in travelling a caravan of blacks with provisions and baggage is always necessary, there is no need of greater speed. They will live on such spare dry grass as can be obtained on the road, and are much safer over the stony and sandy ground than horses, and not so liable to lame or be knocked up;—they will also go a much longer time without water.