Hippopotami are very numerous; three varieties of crocodile infest the rivers. Fish in great variety are caught by the natives in traps and nets, and by hooks and spearing. Whitebait fishing affords occupation to many men in the cataract regions. By day they sit on the rocks waiting for the gleam of a shoal; and when one appears, in an instant they have divested themselves of their scanty clothes, and rush into the strong shallow water with their nets—not unlike a shrimper’s net—each one a little beyond the other, and often are well rewarded for their trouble. Their take is then dried in the sun and sold in the market.
The grey parrots fly home in the evenings in great flocks, whistling and screaming, the happiest birds there are. There is an endless variety of bird-life, which as the mating season nears dons brighter and more striking colouring.
Not very promising was the aspect which the wild people dwelling on the banks of the Congo River presented to Mr. Stanley during the first journey through these unknown regions. As he approached a village, the great war drums and horns thundered through the woods, canoes were manned, and, apparently without the remotest reason, they proceeded to attack the white man with his little flock.
Fierce, wild savagery, loathsome cannibalism, cruelty, the densest darkness and degradation of heathenism—such was the aspect as the two white men, with some one hundred and fifty followers, endeavoured quietly and peaceably to paddle in midstream past the villages.