Chapter 26 - Ran Away to Sea by Mayne Reid
At first we were inclined to remain where we had cooked and eaten our supper. The water was convenient, and there was long bunch grass upon which we could rest very comfortably.
But although it was then warm enough, and we might have gone to sleep without feeling any cold, we knew it would be different towards the middle of the night. We knew this from the experience we had already had of this part of the country—for notwithstanding the great heat of the sun during the day, at night there were heavy dews, and the air was often foggy and chill. Some nights on board the barque we had found it cold enough for all the blankets we could get. Perhaps it was not absolutely so cold as we fancied it, for at this time I knew nothing about the thermometer. It is like enough that we felt the cold of the night more keenly, on account of its contrast with the great heat of the day; and as we were usually at hard work, and perspiring all day long, of course our blood was not prepared for the change.
That day had been a particularly hot one, and in walking over the palm-nuts, and toiling through thickets and other difficult places, we had been in a profuse perspiration all day long. As we had no blankets to cover us—nothing but our very lightest clothing—we would be likely to suffer during the night with the damp dew falling upon our bodies. True, we had the lion’s hide with us, but this, being fresh and still raw, would not greatly benefit us.
Under these circumstances it occurred to us that we might as well take shelter under some tree, which, if it failed to warm, would at least protect us from the falling dew.
We had already noticed a grove at some distance along the slope of the hill. It appeared to promise the very shelter we wanted, and taking up the gun, the lion-skin, what remained of the bustard, and some burning faggots to make a new fire out of, we proceeded in the direction of the grove.
This grove appeared of that kind usually termed a coppice or copse—such as may be often observed in English parks. It was of a circular form, and covered about half an acre of ground. None of the timber was tall—not over thirty or forty feet in height, but as we drew nearer we could perceive that it was all of one sort. This we could tell by the leaves, which were very large and of a shining green colour. They were oblong, and each leaf was divided into five leaflets, that were placed in relation to each other like the fingers of a hand. Even the leaflets were like large entire leaves, and out of each bunch of leaves we could see that there grew a large white flower hanging upon a long pendulous flower-stalk with its top downward. These flowers gave the grove a very beautiful appearance—their splendid white corollas contrasting elegantly with the deep-green of the leaves.
All these matters we noted as we drew nigh, for although the sun had gone down, there was still light enough to view objects at a considerable distance.
We noticed nothing else about this little copse that appeared peculiar, until we had advanced close to its edge. We only observed that it was nicely rounded, just as if it belonged to some fine park and had been kept neatly trimmed by the pruning knife of the park-keeper, or some landscape gardener. Of course this was a peculiarity—considering that the grove grew in a wild uninhabited country, where no human hand ever interfered with it, as we supposed. But I had heard that such regularly formed copses are often met with in wild regions, both on the table plains of Southern Africa and the prairies of America, therefore there was nothing remarkable that they should be found in Central Africa as well.
On this account we had scarce made any remark about the singularity of its shape, but approached it with no other intention than to obtain shelter under it. Its dense foliage, promising protection from dew, or even rain, if it should fall, appeared to invite us; and we were resolved to accept its proffered hospitality.
It was only when we got very close to it, that we perceived the true nature of this singular grove—and then we noticed a peculiarity that astonished us. Instead of a grove covering nearly an acre of ground, as we had conjectured, you may fancy our surprise on perceiving that the hole copse consisted of but one tree!
Sure enough there was only one tree, and it was the vast umbrageous head of leaves and flowers that we had mistaken for a whole grove!
But such a tree was that! If we had been astonished by the dragon-tree, our astonishment was now more than doubled, on beholding the gigantic monarch of trees, that now spread widely before our eyes. The dragon-tree sank into a shrub in comparison with it.
If I were to give the dimensions of this enormous vegetable, I should scarce be credited, but fortunately its giant proportions do not rest on my authority alone. Trees of a similar kind, and of the very same species, have been described by botanists, and therefore their vast size is well-known to the scientific world.
The one discovered by Brace and myself had a trunk of full a hundred feet girth. I cannot speak exactly, as I had no measuring string, and it would have taken a pretty long cord to have gone round it: but Ben measured it carefully with his arms, and pronounced it to be “twenty-five fadoms.” Now Ben’s “fadoms” were good fathoms, for he was a long armed man; and, therefore I conclude that the trunk was at least a hundred feet in circumference. At the height of about a dozen feet from the ground the trunk forked into a number of great branches, each of which was like a tree of itself; and, in fact, some of them were far thicker than most trees of the forest. These branches stretched out for many yards—at first horizontally, but as they tapered towards a point, they began gradually to curve downwards, until their extreme ends—the topmost twigs with their leaves—quite touched the earth. It was for this reason we had not been able to see the main trunk as we approached. The foliage of the outer boughs concealed it from the view, and hence had we mistaken the single tree for a grove or coppice. It the more resembled this on account of its height; for, as already observed, its topmost branches did not exceed thirty or forty feet in clear altitude. It was therefore not the tallest tree in the world, though it was certainly one of the thickest.
Now it so chanced that I knew what kind of tree it was—even to its name; my “wonder book” had not omitted to describe the vegetable curiosity. It was the great baobab.