"In future I shall always say
'Bismillah!'"
Howarti cleaned his net: the fish were placed in a basket, and were
covered with some river-weed to keep them fresh.
Once more the fisherman arranged his net upon his arm, and cautiously
approached a most inviting little nook, where some large lotus leaves
floating on the surface denoted a medium depth.
"Now then, Howarti, throw very carefully, so as to spread your net in
that open space among the lilies, and take care to avoid the leaf stems
that would lift the leads."
"Bismillah!" away flew the net, which fell in a circle, exactly in the
spot desired.
It was amusing to watch the usually stolid countenance of Howarti, that
was now expressive of intense curiosity.
The crown-line jerked and tugged even more than at the first lucky
throw. Howarti cleverly and cautiously landed his net. It contained a
regular "miraculous draught," including a Nile carp of about nine
pounds.
"That will do, Howarti," I exclaimed; "we have fish enough for all the
people on the diahbeeah, as well as for the officers of 'The Forty.'"
The basket would not contain them; therefore the larger fish were laid
upon grass in the bottom of the boat, and we returned home.
Howarti now divided the fish according to orders, and explained to the
delighted crowd the extraordinary effect of the word "Bismillah," which
insured a netful at every cast.
On the following morning, at sunrise, the now pious Howarti went out as
usual with his casting-net accompanied by a sailor, who carried the
largest basket he could procure.
We had moved our position, and there was no sand-bank in the
neighbourhood.
After an absence of about two hours, Howarti returned, together with his
companion and the large basket. This contained a few small fish hardly
sufficient for our breakfast.
"Ah, Howarti!" I exclaimed, "you are a bad Mussulman - you have
forgotten to say 'Bismillah.'"
"Indeed," replied the dejected fisherman, "I repeated 'Bismillah' at
every cast; but it's of no use saying 'Bismillah' in deep water; nothing
will catch them in the deep, and I can catch them without 'Bismillah' in
the shallows."
Howarti was not a fanatical Mohammedan. Poor fellow he never lived to
return with us to Khartoum: his melancholy death will be described
hereafter.
In fishing in the lake at Gondokoro Howarti had the usual charge of the
proceedings. We dragged a boat across the neck of land from the river,
and having launched it, we first laid a stop net 140 yards in length
along the bank of bulrushes that grew in water about five feet deep;
this was to stop the fish from running into the rushes on the advance of
the drag-net.
