The animal appeared quite stunned and stupid, and he merely stood and
stared at his new assailants. The sight was perfectly ridiculous. Every
rifle was fired into him; but the hollow bullets of the sniders had no
penetration, and we might as well have peppered the stone bulls of
Nineveh, in the British Museum. At length, after having been the centre
of a blaze of fireworks, as every man did his best to kill him during
the space of about a minute, he coolly approached the edge of the cliff,
which was quite perpendicular and about eighteen feet high.
A tremendous splash was the end of the encounter, as the hippo committed
himself to the deep, with a clumsy jump from the midst of the
disappointed soldiers.
I was constantly annoyed by the want of penetration of the Boxer hollow
bullets. The "Dutchman" carried three drachms of No. 6-grain powder,
which should have driven a solid bullet through a large antelope; but
the hollow Boxer projectile invariably disappeared in small fragments
upon striking a bone; or it expanded, and had no further penetrating
power after striking a thick hide.
The sniders, although admirable military weapons, possessed a very small
power of penetration. I have frequently seen the bodies of natives with
only one bullet-mark; and I have extracted bullets that ought to have
passed completely through.
My "Forty Thieves" were now proud of themselves as experienced in
various sports, and they were terribly disgusted at the escape of the
hippopotamus. They were never idle for a single day. If no other work
was on hand, I practised them at the target, or they were treated to a
few hours' drill.
Sometimes I took them fishing: this was always a great amusement, as the
expedition was well furnished with nets.
There was a small lake near my station that abounded in fish. One of my
sailors belonging to the diahbeeah was a professional fisherman,
descended from a race of this calling. I had therefore intrusted him
with the charge of the nets. All the sailors of the diahbeeah were good
men, but the fisherman, Howarti, was the best of the picked crew. He was
a Nubian, born in Khartoum, and of an exceedingly light colour. His
style of beauty was rather spoiled by the loss of one eye, and
altogether his personal appearance was not attractive; but he was very
strong, although a small man, and in any case of emergency he was the
most active and intelligent sailor. Howarti was always the first man to
leap overboard with the tow rope, when it became necessary to drag the
vessel against wind and stream: he was, like all Nubians, an admirable
swimmer.
Our comfort had depended much upon this man throughout the expedition,
as he was the only person who could properly throw a casting-net. Thus
he had always supplied us with excellent fish. I often admired his
perseverance, when, after twenty or thirty barren casts, he rested for a
while, cleaned his net, and waded, in spite of crocodiles, to seek a
more likely spot to catch fish for breakfast, at a time when this meal
would depend entirely upon his success. At such times I frequently
advised him as a good Mohammedan to say "Bismillah" (in the name of God)
before he threw the net. On the first occasion, before I gave him this
advice, he had had extremely bad luck, and he told me that "something
was wrong with the fish;" as he had thrown his net for an hour without
catching anything, except a few uneatable spike-fish.
I advised him to come with me in the dingy; and having rowed a short
distance, we arrived at a sand-bank in the bend of the river. Here we
landed, and I found fault with Howarti for omitting to say "Bismillah!"
"Will it do any good?" asked the profane Howarti. "Try," I replied; "you
know the opinion of Mohammedans; now then, Howarti, say 'Bismillah,' and
throw just in that hole close to the weeds. Spin your net so that it
shall fall perfectly round, and advance very quietly to the edge, so
that your shadow shall not disturb the fish."
"Bismillah!" ejaculated Howarti, and he crept cautiously forward to a
very likely-looking hole. "Bismillah!" and with a dexterous throw, the
net described an exact circle as it fell evenly upon the water.
No sooner had the fisherman commenced to tighten the crown line, when
the rapid and powerful jerks showed that he had something good within
his net. "Now, Howarti, look sharp! the bottom is clean sand: haul away,
and don't give them time to burrow beneath the leads."
Howarti hauled away, and as the net came near the shore, there was such
a splashing and jumping as he had rarely seen. The net came in upon the
clean sand-bank, and we counted upwards of forty fine boulti, several of
about four pounds, and the smallest about half a pound weight.
Howarti, having counted his fish, exclaimed, piously,
"Elliambd-el-Illah!" and added: "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.
