The Elephants' Lake

excerptWe arrived on the right riverside of the Congo, in front of the bridge, which the engineers could not even imagine; a general "aaah" went out of their chests. In addition, at the same time, after casting me glances of imputation, they burst into formidable laughers. Even Van Thyft, with his funeral face, showed us his golden teeth. What was the famous system that the Negroes had invented? Only a few logs, tied together and covered with smaller branches, forming a square surface, more or less plane, some sort of rough raft, built without any knowledge, and filled with vehicles, men and animals. The conductors, four Negroes armed with long heavy sticks, crossed the entire equipment over to the other side. The mobile bridge had barely begun to move when suddenly Borel found it more convenient to get out of the car and sit on a log, right on the edge of the raft. The Negroes, alarmed, gesticulated, looking across the water at the point that the Frenchman chose for sitting. We did not have time to ask him about the reason of his behavior. A howl of horror went out of our chests, as we saw, at three or four meters from our friend, a gigantic caiman, opening his horrible mouth. "Borel!" we yelled.Our yells made him start, but he barely could see the monster, because in that exact moment he was looking in the opposite direction. The caiman disappeared under the waters, scared maybe of our voices or even of the gestures that we made seeing it.Scared, the Frenchman stood up rapidly, came to us, and asked: "What happened? A crocodile, really?" However, the danger was gone and, after the initial fright, there followed state of irritation, which, as always, was consumed by making thousands of jokes."I thought," Cronville said, "that our friend Borel would like to prove his ability of shooting.""If only I had seen it…" regretfully said the above mentioned, gazing at the place where the amphibian had formerly appeared, and making the gesture of shooting his rifle. We all had lots of laughers, as he was, at that moment, a real Tartarin; but our hilarious mood was to come to an end because of a shooting sound and of Borel's happy yells: "I shot it! I shot it!""Who did you shoot?" "The crocodile. Right into its eye."Our laughers stopped when we saw the Negroes from the raft rushing at that side, sounding the river with their long sticks. Our guide told us that, considering what these capable men were saying, the engineer had wounded a caiman, believing it was a crocodile.Otherwise, our comrade's error was normal. The caiman and the crocodile are so much alike, that one can barely tell which is which. The first is, still, much smaller. However, both of them are fearful, with their well-covered armored back, having a thickness impossible to penetrate even by the most powerful weapons. In the water, the caiman's ferocity is terrible, but he is far less aggressive on land.The Negroes' searches remained without results. The long sticks did not find the corpse of the monster and they all returned to their places, to the other riverside. But they had barely removed the sticks from the water when suddenly we could see, miraculously appearing from the troubled waves, an entire group, maybe a family of caimans opening, with a peculiar pleasure, their formidable mouths, clapping their jaws with horrible noise, as they would have already enjoyed our flesh, surely a tasty bite. Their number was increasing and, within two or 3 minutes, we counted almost 50 of them. They kept on swimming around our floating bridge. The Negroes told us to move far from the raft's edge, but before we could do so, the caimans had become so daring, that many of them were trying to come aboard. The weight of the automobile seemed to make easier the attempts of the irritated crowd, because the logs were almost totally beneath the water. The danger seemed serious. No matter how hard the Negroes tried, they were not capable of pushing the raft aside, while the furious family was revengefully increasing its aggressive behavior. Good old Marius was not kidding anymore, and Cronville forgot to make his jokes. We all were thinking at the same thing: it was imperious to find a way out of this unfortunate situation, provoked by the irrational action of Borel.It was necessary to make the monsters go away, and to regain control of the raft. On the other side, another danger was coming from the current's strength, which could easily push us over one of the many whirlpools the Congo River has, to inevitable death. We all were sick worried, but not Van Thyft. Silent and calm, he was preparing his gun, loading it and checking the trigger, and he was attentively examining his revolver, ready to shoot when necessary. Only when necessary, because the Belgian, back in his country, was member of a committee for the animals' protection. He was absolutely forbidden to kill any kind of animal, except in cases of extreme necessity, when the very life of a man was threatened. 1928


by Mihai Tican-Rumano