Stories of the Gorilla Country, Narrated for Young People

by Paul B. Du Chaillu

We set sail from the Gaboon river, and hoped to get down to the Commi country in five days. But for four days after starting we had light wind and a contrary current; and, on the fifth day, we were caught in such a storm at sea as I hope never to experience again.

The steering went on so badly when Captain Cornillo was below, that I was forced to stand watch myself. I had been steering for four hours, and had been perhaps one hour in my berth, when I was awakened from a sound sleep by the captain's voice, giving orders to take down the mainsail. I sprang on deck immediately, knowing there must be at least a heavy squall coming. But no sooner did I cast my eyes to the leeward than I saw how imminent the danger was. A tornado was coming down upon us. The black clouds which had gathered about the horizon were becoming lurid white with startling quickness. It seemed almost as if they were lit up by lightning. The tornado was sweeping along and in a moment would be upon us. As yet all was still—still as death. There was not a breath of wind.

I turned to see if the mainsail was down, but found nothing had been done. The captain was shouting from the wheel; the men were also shouting and running about, half scared to death; and, in the pitchy darkness (for I could not see my hands when held close before my eyes), no one could find the halliards. In the midst of our trouble the wind came roaring down upon us. I seized a knife, determined to cut everything away; but just then somebody let go the halliards, and, in the nick of time, the mainsail came half-way down. The tornado was upon us. The jibs flew away in rags in a moment. The vessel was thrown upon her beam ends. The water rushed over her deck, and the men sang out that we were drowning; as, in fact, we should have been in a very few minutes. Happily the wind shifted a little; and, by the light of some very vivid lightning, we seized on the mainsail, like men that felt it was their last hope, and pulled it down, holding it so that the wind should not catch it again. The vessel righted, and in less than twenty minutes the squall died away, and was succeeded by a driving rain, which poured down in such torrents that in a very short time I was drenched to the skin. The lightning and thunder were something terrific. I was afraid of the lightning, striking us as the Caroline had no lightning-rod, and we had powder enough on board to blow us all to atoms. The deck was so leaky that even below I could not get protection from the rain.

The next morning we had no jibs, and our other sails were severely damaged. To add to our difficulties, no one on board, not even our captain, knew where we were. At that time I knew not how to make astronomical observations. The captain was in the habit of bringing up, every day, an old quadrant; but about the use of it he knew as much as a cow does about a musket.

At last we made the land. A canoe came on board, and we asked where we were. We found that we must be somewhere near Cape St. Catherine, and therefore a good many miles south of the mouth of the Fernand-Vaz, the place where I was bound. So we turned about to retrace our path. Sailing close in shore, when I passed the village of Aniambia, or Big Camma, the natives came with a message from their king, offering me two slaves if I would stay with him.

I was immovable, for I had set my heart on going to the Fernand-Vaz river, of which I heard a good deal, from my friend Aboko, while in the Cape Lopez regions. As we approached that river, the vast column of water, pushing seaward, forced its separate way through the ocean for at least four or five miles; and the water there was almost fresh, and seemed a separate current in the sea.

At last we came to the mouth of the Fernand-Vaz, and our fame had gone before us. Some of the Commi people, the inhabitants of the Fernand-Vaz, had seen me before at Cape Lopez. The news had spread that I wanted to settle at the village of a chief called Ranpano; so, as we passed his seashore village, a canoe came off to ask me to land; but as the breakers were rather formidable, I begged to be excused.

Ranpano's men wanted much to hug me; and were so extravagant in their joy, that I had to order them to keep their hands off, their shining and oily bodies having quite soiled my clothes. They went back to the king to tell him the good news. I kept one of these men on board for a pilot, being now anxious to get across the intricate bar, and fairly into the river, before dark.

As we sailed along up the river, canoes belonging to different villages shot out to meet us; and presently I had a crowd alongside anxious to come on board, and sufficient almost to sink us. They took me for a slaver at first, and their joy was unbounded; for there is nothing the African loves so much as to sell his fellowmen. They immediately called out their names in Portuguese: one was Don Miguel, another Don Pedro, another Don Francisco. They began to jabber away in Portuguese. Where they had learned this language I could not tell, unless it were in Sangatanga. I could not understand them; so I sent my captain to talk with them. He had some difficulty to persuade them that I came no such errand as slave-trading. They insisted that I had, and that the vessel looked exactly like a slaver. They said we must buy some of their slaves; they had plenty of them.