LXV.—THE MONSTER OF THE NILE.
Sir Samuel Baker.
Few creatures are so sly and wary as the crocodile. I watch them continually as they attack the dense flocks of small birds that throng the bushes at the water’s edge. These birds are perfectly aware of the danger, and they fly from the attack, if possible. The crocodile then quietly and innocently lies upon the surface, as though it had appeared quite by an accident. It thus attracts the attention of the birds, and it slowly sails away to a considerable distance, exposed to their view. The birds, thus beguiled by the deceiver, believe that the danger is removed, and they again flock to the bush, and once more dip their thirsty beaks in the stream.
Thus absorbed in slaking their thirst, they do not observe that their enemy is no longer on the surface. A sudden splash, followed by a huge pair of jaws, beneath the bush, which engulf some dozens of victims, is the signal unexpectedly given of the crocodile’s return—he having slily dived, and hastened under cover of water to his victims. I have seen the crocodile repeat this manœuvre constantly: they deceive by a feigned retreat, and then attack from below.
In like manner the crocodile perceives, while it is floating on the surface in mid-stream, or from the opposite side of the river, a woman filling her girba, or an animal drinking. Sinking immediately, it swims perhaps a hundred yards nearer, and again appearing for an instant upon the surface, it assures itself of the position of its prey by a steady look. Once more it sinks, and reaches the exact spot above which the person or animal may be. Seeing distinctly through the water, it generally makes its fatal rush from beneath,—sometimes seizing with its jaws, and at other times striking the object into the water with its tail, after which it seizes it, and carries it off.
The crocodile does not attempt to swallow a large prey at once, but generally carries it away, and keeps it for a considerable time in its jaws in some deep hole beneath a rock or the root of a tree, where it eats it at leisure. The tongue of the crocodile is so unlike that of any other creature that it can hardly be called by the same name. No portion of it is detached from the flesh of the lower jaw; it is like a thickened membrane extending from the gullet to about half-way along the length of jaw.
I was one day returning from head-quarters to my station—a distance of a mile and a half along the river’s bank—when I noticed the large head of a crocodile about thirty yards from the shore. I knew every inch of the river, and I was satisfied that the water was shallow. A solitary piece of waving rush, that grew upon the bank exactly opposite the crocodile, marked its position. So, stooping down, I retreated inland from the bank, and then running forward, I crept gently towards the rush.
Stooping as low as possible, I advanced till very near the bank (upon which grew tufts of grass), when, by slowly raising my head, I could observe the head of the crocodile in the same position, not more than twenty-six or twenty-eight yards from me. At that distance my rifle could hit a half-crown; I therefore made sure of bagging. The bank was about four feet above the water; thus the angle was favorable, and I aimed just behind the eye. Almost as I touched the trigger, the crocodile gave a convulsive start, and turning slowly on its back, it stretched its four legs above the surface, straining every muscle. It then remained motionless in water about two feet deep.
My horse was always furnished with a long halter or tethering-rope. So I ordered two men to jump into the river and secure the crocodile by a rope fastened round the body behind the fore-legs. This was quickly accomplished, and the men remained knee-deep, hauling upon the rope to prevent the stream from carrying away the body. In the meantime an attendant had mounted my horse and galloped off to the camp for assistance.