CROCODILES are not the only reptiles to be seen in the river, for we also saw many large tortoises. They were chiefly of the genus Pyxis, the Geometric or Box tortoise, having the carapace divided into large hexagons beautifully marked, and were basking in the sun on small spits of sand rising just above the surface of the water. A carapace which I afterwards procured on the coast was about eighteen inches long. Two other species are also found in Madagascar, named respectively, Testudo geometria and Testudo radiata.

In former times the lakes and marshes of the island were inhabited by an immense species of tortoise, whose remains have been found together with those of the gigantic birds (Æpyornis), the hippopotamus and the great extinct lemurs, all of which were no doubt contemporaneous, lasting until the arrival of man on the scene. But although extinct on the mainland of Madagascar, they seem to have survived on the Mascarene group of Mauritius, Réunion and Rodriguez until a very recent date, and they are still living in the little island of Aldabra, which is about two hundred and sixty miles north-west of Cape Ambro. There are two living examples of these huge creatures in the Regent’s Park Gardens. The male tortoise, which is much the larger of the two, is five feet five inches in length, and five feet nine inches in breadth, broader, in fact, than it is long. It weighs about eight hundred pounds, and is believed to be able to carry a ton weight on its back. It is now at least a hundred and fifty years old, but is still young and is likely to grow to a much greater size. From the geometric-shaped plates of its carapace, it seems to be allied to the geometric tortoise, still plentiful in Madagascar, as we have just seen. Until lately, it was supposed that these great tortoises were becoming extinct on Aldabra, but by the most recent accounts of the island, it appears that this is not likely to be the case, the dense jungle of pandanus giving them ample protection, as it is at night when they leave this shelter, and go in search of food.[32]

Although we saw no villages during this day’s voyage, there was evidence of some population, in people fishing along the river bank, canoes moored by the shore, and women drawing water, carefully avoiding going into the stream, and filling their vessels with a small gourd fastened to a long bamboo. The scenery also was more varied, there being lines of low hills, partly covered with wood, and the banks of the river lined with large trees.

Our third day’s voyage took us again along a very beautiful extent of park-like scenery. All yesterday afternoon we were gradually approaching a long line of blue hills running north-north-west and south-south-east, and this morning we got nearer to them. They appeared to be about a thousand feet high, and almost covered with dense forest, with patches of rock and red clay showing here and there. Landing at noon for lunch among magnificent trees, I noticed that these were swarming with ants, which covered the trunks and devoured every fruit as soon as it became ripe.

During this journey to the north-west, we saw no mammals except herds of oxen; but as there are a few others, it will be fitting here to say something about the largest carnivorous animal found in the island, especially as this district is its special habitat. This creature is called by the people, Fòsa (Cryptoprocta ferox), and although small is very ferocious, as its specific name denotes. The fòsa differs from most of the felidæ by the greater elongation of the body, including the head, and it is plantigrade, like the bears, and not digitigrade, like the majority of the cats. In its structure it resembles the jaguar, and in its colouring the puma, indeed it is very like a small jaguar, as it has thick glossy fur of a tawny-brown, which becomes somewhat darker under the body. Its total length is four feet eight inches, but of this the tail occupies two feet two inches, and it stands about one foot three inches high. For its size, the animal is powerful, but it is not dangerous to man, except when it is wounded, or at the breeding season. It is destructive to poultry and small animals, and it is able to emit a very fetid odour from an anal pouch, with which fowls are said to be killed. Examples of the fòsa have been seen in the outskirts of the upper belt of forest on the east side of the island; and of somewhat larger size than the dimensions already given. A specimen I once saw was of a beautiful black colour, but I believe this was only a variety, and not a distinct species from the brown animal. The fòsa is much dreaded by the Malagasy, and, from its mode of attack, appears to be like an immense weasel, attacking large animals, such as the wild boar and even oxen. Like the aye-aye among the quadrumana, and many of the native birds, the fòsa has no near relative, and therefore a new family had to be formed for it, of which it is the only genus and species.

The other carnivora of Madagascar are all small animals, and are rarely seen except when trapped. They all belong to the viverridæ or civets, two to the civets proper, five (or six) being mungooses, and one, an ichneumon. The mungooses, known to the Malagasy under the name of Vontsìra, somewhat resemble the weasels and ferrets of Europe, except that they are not exclusively flesh feeders. They feed upon poultry, rats and mice, and also fruits. The ichneumon, or Fanàloka, is about twenty inches long, with a bushy tail of about a third that length, and is covered with thick warm brown fur. Its claws are long and are used to dig up the eggs of the crocodile, on which it is said to feed.

Although we saw an occasional angler on the banks of the river, we were not fortunate enough to see any of the fish. According to M. Pollen, the rivers of the north-west contain a number of fish, many of which are coloured in a most striking manner; the plates of his valuable work on the fauna of the island show these as banded and barred with the most vivid colours—blue, scarlet, black and yellow—in fact, very much like those strikingly coloured and curiously marked fishes which inhabit the sea round coral reefs and feed upon the brightly tinted polyps.

Wednesday afternoon’s voyage was, as regards scenery, the most beautiful of the whole journey. Instead of the country becoming flatter as we approach the sea, it increases in boldness and picturesqueness. Lines of hills covered with wood lie in all directions, and amongst these the river winds, making sudden turns almost at right angles, so that we proceeded towards almost every point of the compass except due south. A few scattered hamlets, of three to six huts each, began to appear. The crocodiles were numerous, from the old patriarch to the infant of a foot or so long. We must have seen a hundred of them that afternoon. We had some difficulty in landing and pitching our tents, and on account of the heat and the mosquitoes passed the most uncomfortable night of the entire journey. Hardly anyone was able to sleep, and I was glad to get up at four o’clock and dress in the bright moonlight and rouse up the others.

Our fourth (and last) day of canoe voyaging was begun soon after six o’clock. Outrigger canoes made their appearance, a style of craft the Hovas seem never to have invented, nor are such in use on the east coast. The scenery increased in boldness, with precipitous hillsides rising from the side of the river, which here was about the size of the Thames at Kew. About an hour after leaving, we found the current running up the stream; it was feeling the influence of the tide from the ocean, still many miles distant. The foliage was most dense and luxuriant, from the summit of the hills down to the water’s edge, in some parts the long lianas forming immense festoons and making a perfect wall of exquisite green, while the ever-present bàraràta shoots up its feathery head. After some time we turned from the main stream into a branch river, much narrower, but running for many miles in a straight line. As the day advanced, the intense sunlight made everything glow with light and heat, lighting up the dense vegetation most brilliantly. Groups of pandanus were frequent here among the more European-like trees; these are of two species, one rising into a lofty cone, almost like a low poplar, and the other one more spreading and brandishing, with the aerial roots rising high above the ground. After an hour or two we came again into the main stream, here more than a mile wide, the banks being still thickly wooded. It was intensely hot, and we were not sorry to see Màrovoày (“Many crocodiles”) a few miles ahead of us on a detached hill to the east of the river.

At one o’clock we stopped when opposite the town, the water approach to it being by a small tidal stream which flows into the main river some miles farther down. Our men were just enough to carry the wife and baby and little girl in their palanquin across the mile or two, while the native nurse and I walked; the others, who were some way behind, had to go farther down the river in the canoes, and consequently had three or four hours’ paddling in the glowing afternoon sun, which we who took the land journey avoided.

Màrovoày is situated on the north-east bank of a small river, which we had to cross by a canoe. Nearly a dozen dhows were either anchored in the stream or aground on mud-banks, giving the place the aspect of a small fishing town. The lower town, with perhaps two hundred houses, was chiefly occupied by Arab and Indian traders, their stores and warehouses lining the main street through which we passed. The Hova town and government compound (ròva) was on a low hill, rising abruptly from the level to the height of eighty or a hundred feet. Coming up to the gate of the ròva, we stopped to rest and sent word of our arrival to the governor. While we were waiting, one of our men thoughtfully got us a coffee-pot full of rànom-pàry (sugar-cane juice), and never did nectar taste more delicious than that as we took repeated “pulls” at it after our walk across the rice-fields in the glowing sunshine.

Presently we were invited to enter, the governor coming out to meet us, and brought us into his house, a rather smartly furnished place of one large room, but with a wide gallery all round it. Here we were glad to rest after our hot voyage and walk, and enjoyed an excellent cup of coffee, which they kindly made for us, as well as some of Huntley & Palmer’s “best mixed biscuits.” We felt as if we were getting back into a civilised land again! After a little while we moved into the chapel, which was also within the ròva; this was a large building, and looked quite gay, from being completely papered with good wall-paper, but badly laid on, for the native workman evidently thought that the white edging to each piece was a part of the pattern, and so had carefully left it visible in every case! The wooden posts of the roof were all papered too. The pulpit was a curious example of its kind, being made of lattice-work, gaily painted, with a number of small looking-glasses let into its front, and backed by wall-paper. It had a flat canopy or sounding board and a large door, so it was like a little room of itself. With its numerous doors and windows there was a beautiful breeze through the building, and we anticipated a comfortable night, but, alas! our hopes were not realised, for the heat was intense, and the mosquitoes persecuted us by hundreds. This town is probably one of the hottest in the island, and we were told that later on, in the rainy season, the place is almost unbearable from the clouds of these insects.

Our day at Màrovoày was occupied chiefly in arranging for leaving for Mojangà the same evening, and in transferring all our baggage to one of the dhows lying in the river. There is an extensive view from the upper part of the town, as the country is very flat for many miles round. In the evening we dined with the governor and his wife in the làpa, and went down to the river at about nine o’clock. With some difficulty, in the darkness, we transferred ourselves and palanquins, etc., from shore to canoe, and from canoe to dhow, and at last were crowded together as thick as we could sit and lie on the little deck. The ship we embarked in was about thirty-five feet long, by fourteen or fifteen feet beam; the middle portion open to the keel, but with a little deck forward and another aft. This small quarter-deck was about ten to twelve feet square, and when the two large palanquins for the children to sleep in had been placed on either side, there was not much space left for five adults to pack together, in fact we had about as much room as would be found on a good-sized dining-table.

Soon after ten o’clock we got under way, the tide having begun to ebb for the previous hour or two. There was no wind, so six men rowed us down the stream, accompanying their work with the most curious weird-sounding songs, in Arabic, I suppose (or perhaps Suahili), some of them sounding very comic. We swept down rapidly with the tide, the trees looking dark and gloomy in the uncertain light, and presently the moon rose. After an hour or two we got into the main river, and in a little time had to cast anchor, as the tide had turned. It was a strange night, and we did not get much sleep, as we had not room to turn, so we waited impatiently for the dawn. Dawn, however, brought with it a cloud of mosquitoes from the low swampy ground bordering the river, which was thick with mangroves and rank vegetation. Just at twilight they surrounded us by thousands; but as soon as the sun rose, they disappeared, a gentle breeze sprang up, and we set sail. The river widened as we proceeded, until it became a large estuary, and gradually opened into the Bay of Bèmbatòka. The breeze freshened as the day advanced, and we sailed at a considerable speed.

These dhows are first-rate sailers; they carry one large sail, in shape like a triangle with one corner cut off. But what struck us as very curious was that when tacking, they did not run into the wind’s eye as a European ship does, but they turned the dhow right round before the wind, while shifting the long boom to the other side of the mast. But they sail very close to the wind, and seem excellent sea boats. This form of ship is probably a very ancient one, for vessels very similar in shape and rig are figured on the Egyptian monuments, and most likely the “ships of Tarshish” were only rather large dhows. The largest of these vessels have two masts, the one at the stern being much smaller than the other, and both have a rake forward, instead of aft, as in European ships.

Our spirits rose with the wind, for there had been many prophecies at Màrovoày that we might be a long time on the way, and, in fact, some friends who preceded us by a month or two were actually three nights on the voyage. But we bounded over the waves and soon felt a considerable swell. Bèmbatòka Bay is so wide for a considerable distance that the north-western shore is only faintly visible, but it narrows again towards the mouth, and a line of hills running out to the western point defines its outline very clearly; opposite Mojangà it is about five miles across. Towards noon they pointed out to us a projecting headland, some way ahead to the right, and told us that after rounding that we should see Mojangà. The wind continued strong, but as it got more and more ahead, we had to tack repeatedly. At about half-past three o’clock we reached our destination, casting anchor a quarter of a mile or so from the beach.

Mojangà was a decidedly pretty and picturesque-looking place from the sea, and a much more civilised-looking town than any I had previously seen in Madagascar. Instead of rush and bamboo houses, there was a long line of white flat-topped buildings of two and three storeys, some having castellated battlements. A score or two of dhows were at anchor in the roads, but there was no European vessel in the harbour. Behind the Arab and Indian town the ground rises gently for two hundred or three hundred feet, and at the top of this higher ground is the ròva and Hova town. Between the two, and to the north, is a beautiful park-like expanse, thickly studded with magnificent trees, chiefly mangoes, which here grow to a great size, as well as baobabs, and clumps of cocoanut-palms and a few fan-palms. A fort crowns the crest of the hill to the north; and altogether, we were agreeably surprised with Mojangà. Just as we had cast anchor, we were surprised to see several camels brought down to the sea for a bath. They were imported from Aden some time ago by a French firm, but had not proved a success, commercially, for Madagascar has too damp a climate for animals accustomed to the sand and gravel of the Arabian desert. We had not landed many minutes before our brother missionary, Mr Pickersgill, then stationed at Mojangà, came down and gave us a hearty welcome and every assistance with our baggage, etc. Our little family party found quarters in the verandah of the house of a Madame Beker, very near the shore, while the others went to stay with Mr Pickersgill near the ròva. This house was of coral rock, plastered, but was so hot that we preferred the verandah, which was roofed with fan-palm leaves and surrounded with the same slight materials. We were glad of the quiet and rest we had there for a week after our two or three weeks’ travelling by land and river.

The following morning, Sunday, the mail steamer, Packumba, came in about midday, but left again for Mozambique in the afternoon. On going on board to see the ship we were to sail in, we found that her main deck was arranged so as to take a great number of passengers, the iron plating at the sides all turning up on hinges to allow a free passage of air. I was glad to be able to preach to a large congregation in the native church during the afternoon.

The week at Mojangà passed away rapidly, for we had plenty to do in rearranging and labelling luggage, disposing of our palanquins, bedding, and other no longer needful property, and preparing for our voyage. At this town we found ourselves in quite a different place and surroundings from what we had seen everywhere else in Madagascar. We were in the midst of an Indian and Mohammedan population, the traders here being mostly Banians and a large proportion of them British subjects. Hindoo speech, dress, ornament, and customs met us at every turn, and also those of the Arabs. The houses are chiefly built of coral rock, plastered with lime, and roofed with fan-palm leaves. The door and window openings are made with flat-pointed and zigzagged arches; and when the rooms are wide, a line of piers and arches runs down its length, giving a cool depth of shade quite Eastern in its effect. The doorways have elaborately carved lintels and posts; these are all done at Bombay and brought here ready for fitting. There is a little stone carving also here and there, and Arabic sentences are carved over the doors in some cases. The men are in Indian dress, and the women with nose-jewels, silver armlets and anklets, and the long muslin robe thrown over the head and wound round the body.

Arabic dress and customs were not less prominent in Mojangà. Close to our lodging was a small mosque, and from the flat roof we could hear the muezzin calling the faithful to prayers five times a day in a long sonorous musical cry—before sunrise, in the forenoon, at noon, at three o’clock, and at sunset, and could see his form silhouetted against the sky, making a number of prostrations when the call was finished. Our stay here was in the month Ramazan, the great fasting-time of the Mohammedans, when they eat and drink nothing all day, at least the strictly orthodox do not. They make up for it, however, at night; and feasting and jollity seemed to be the general employment. Our house adjoining the main street, it was extremely noisy until long after midnight. There is no doubt that the Arabs, and also the Indians, have been settled at Mojangà, as well as at other places on the north-west coast, for centuries. As we have seen in Chapter XII., there was an Arab colony at some remote period on the south-east coast, but this was gradually absorbed and lost in the native population and no longer maintains a separate existence. The north-western colony, however, being in constant communication with Suahili land and the Arab element there, has maintained its individuality, and kept its dress, customs, language, and religion quite distinct from the Malagasy around it.

Amongst the magnificent mango-trees in the park are many specimens of the baobab-tree (Adansonia madagascariensis); one of these must be from seventy to eighty feet in girth. The trunks of these trees are of enormous size compared with the small expanse of the branches; and their glossy dark brown bark, their rapid tapering upwards, and their bareness of foliage for the greater part of the year, mark them very distinctly from all others. They are curious in appearance, but not at all beautiful. The bark is used to make rope, and the sap is said to be potable and tasteless; the wood, however, is so soft that it can be pulled away by the fingers.

Many trees affording beautiful and valuable timber are found in these western woods; among these is one yielding the kind called by cabinet-makers “zebra-wood,” while ebony is obtained from one or more of the twenty-two species of Diospyros known in the island. We have seen the mangrove (Rhizophora mucronata) on the shores of Bèmbatòka Bay, and this tree is found at the mouths of almost all the rivers and inlets on the north-western coast, where it is the most prominent feature in the extensive swamps, probably also helping to extend the land.

We had no opportunity of seeing the largest of the Madagascar birds, the Ankoày, or fishing eagle (Haliaetus vociferoides), although it is found all along the western coast. It is a large and handsome bird, and is said to keep watch on a tree or cliff at the edge of the water, swooping down like lightning into the sea after its finny prey, and being able to arrest instantaneously its downward flight. M. Grandidier says that a single pair of these eagles is found in very many of the innumerable small bays of the north-western coast, and of this they take exclusive possession, allowing no other eagle to encroach on their own preserves. They feed principally on fish, catching adroitly those which appear near the surface. The name of Ankoày applied to this bird appears to be an imitative one derived from its cry of hoai, hoai.

It is doubtful whether there is another eagle really indigenous to Madagascar, although a harrier-eagle (Eutriorchis) was once shot in the Mangòro valley; if this was not a chance immigrant, it must be extremely rare. This one example was remarkable for the extreme shortness of its wings, and immoderate length of tail.

One of the most important occupations of the coast Sàkalàva is the catching of turtles (fàno). Some of these creatures are oval in form and very fat and plump, others are much thinner and flat; of these latter, some are said to attain a length of eight or nine feet. In catching them the natives go out to sea in the early morning, when the turtles come to the surface to enjoy their morning nap, and at which time the sea is usually very smooth. A kind of harpoon, about twelve feet long, shod with a piece of barbed iron is used, and to this a strong rope, a couple of hundred yards in length, is attached. Great care and caution has to be used in approaching the sleeping animal, for, if struck, it dives down immediately, and the fisherman will not leave go of the rope, but dives down with it, if the water is deep. The natives seem to be able to stop an extraordinary time under water. As soon as the turtle is secured, the captors make for the shore, and all the people gather together to share in the feast. Nobody must bring anything from a house to the spot, for the animal must be wrenched open and cut in pieces with knives belonging to the canoe, it must be cooked in sea-water in the shell of the turtle itself, and served in scoops or other vessels from the canoe, or in pieces of turtle-shell. None of the flesh is allowed to be brought into a house to be cooked or eaten there. All these and several other precautions are ancestral customs and must be religiously observed, or the turtles would disappear.

A curious account is given by the natives of the north-west coast of a fish which they call Hàmby, whose length is said to be about that of a man’s arm, and its girth about that of his thigh. Its dorsal fin, they say, is just like a brush, and it has a liquid about it, sticky like glue, and when it fastens on to another fish from below, with this brush on its head, the fish cannot get away, but is held fast. On account of this peculiarity, the people use the hàmby to fish with. When they catch one, they confine it in a light cage, which they fasten in the sea, feeding it daily with cooked rice or small fish; and when they want to use it, they tie a long cord round its tail and let it go, following it in a canoe. When it fastens on a fish they pull it in and secure the spoil. I wonder whether this fish has any connection with one found on the east coast, which is called Làdintavìa, and is said by Mr Connorton to be covered with a kind of slime, so that when many of them are together, it looks as if they are floating in a thick lather of soap.

Two or more kinds of oysters are found on this north-west coast; one of these is called by the people Sàja, which may be seen covering the rocks in great abundance on the seashore at low water. It is a small oyster, but excellent in quality. Another kind, called Téfaka, is only found at some depth below water. It is a much larger oyster than the sàja, with the interior of the shell beautifully pearly. It is said to be delicious in flavour. Quite recently an English company was projected to exploit these oyster beds for pearls and for the pearly shells themselves.

Another sea-living creature in Madagascar waters is a species of octopus called Horìta, which, notwithstanding its repulsive appearance, is reckoned a delicacy by the coast people, although Europeans who have tried it pronounce it as tough and gluey and uneatable, although cooked for a long time.

The north-west coasts, from the numerous estuaries surrounded with trees, are particularly favourable for such birds as the herons, some species of which are regarded as sacred by the natives, and are consequently less shy than these birds are in Europe, while others are very wary and most difficult to approach. In habits and feeding these Madagascar herons are much like the European and African species, mostly living on fish, molluscs and crustacea, the larger ones devouring reptiles and small birds and mammals, while the smaller kinds are insectivorous. They are often found in companies, including several different species, settled on the trees overhanging or near water, and remaining perfectly motionless for a long time. Some of the herons appear to be very common, as the ashy, the black-necked, the purple, the white-winged, the garzetta, and some others, and especially the small white egret, which we have noticed more than once in these chapters. Fifteen species of heron are found in Madagascar, three storks, a spoonbill, five ibises and a flamingo.

It was a pleasure to us during our week’s stay at Mojangà to meet with several old acquaintances among the Hova officers stationed there; anyone coming from their loved Imèrina always received a warm welcome. On the Saturday of the week after our arrival there, the Packumba returned from Africa, and on the following morning we left in her for Aden and Europe. Steaming northwards, we kept in sight of the mainland of Madagascar during the next day, and this appeared bold and mountainous, and very different from the greater portion of the eastern coast of the island. There were many islands rising precipitously out of the sea, while ahead of us the lofty mountains of the island of Nòsibé soon appeared. These looked exactly like portions of the interior of Madagascar set down in the midst of the sea; the same red clay soil and the same markings of valley and ravine as seen all through the interior plateaux. Two or three very regular volcanic cones, truncated and showing the craters, were very prominent; these are parts of that chain of extinct vents of which we have seen numerous examples in our travelling through other parts of the country. Besides the main island of Nòsibé, there are many outlying portions of it, looking like detached islets dropped into the sea. Some of these are densely wooded from base to summit. Altogether, as may be seen from a brief glance at the map, the north-western side of Madagascar is totally different, with its numerous deep bays and inlets, from the eastern side, where there is almost a straight line for many hundreds of miles. The geology of the two sides is very different, and this has powerfully affected their physical geography.

We stayed several hours at Nòsibé, discharging and receiving cargo, and it was nearly sunset when we steamed away to the north-west for Mayotta. For several hours we could still see the island and the mainland by the glare of the burning grass on the hillsides; and these, for more than five years subsequently, were the last glimpses we had of Madagascar.