Wednesday August 9, 1922

A lovely moon tonight on Congo waters: just ahead, low – almost over the boat. Waters are all lit up – banks shadowed in dark. Bush fires here and there, in the east a lurid red light but alone all the soft light speaks of calm and peace. Chirps and squeaks of animals on the bank. Tonight is our last night on the ship.

We left Boma at 6.0am for the two hours journey up the river to Matadi. This bit of our of our voyage was in many ways the most interesting so far: the early morning light, the calm, slowly flowing river and low hills – sometimes tree covered on either bank. Gradually the country becomes wilder – trees are fewer – the hills are higher their sides steeper and they rise much nearer the waters edge.

By the end of our first hour we are indeed in a wonderful land. The river is narrow (and must be very deep) the hills are mountainous now and rise right from the waters edge. As we look inland mountain rises above mountain as far as the eye can see. The country is quite wild: a few small trees and bushes in the lowlands – coarse grass and vegetation cling to the mountain sides or else brave the rock face standing gaunt and rugged in the grey light.

It is a land where every prospect pleases and the boats slow progress seems much too fast: the river winds its way in and out among the mountains – now showing in a long stretch ahead of us like some great lake – now turning sharply to the right or left – or so concealing its turn that it seems we must run against yonder mountain – or turn back for there seems no way out until we get quite close up to the bend and a new vista opens out before us.

Just below me on the fore deck a native is sweeping up the rubbish which littered the ship at Boma. He is dressed in a red shirt and trousers and a very old English frock coat quite green with age. He looks an odd figure beside these great mountains of his own country -  a picture of too great a part of Africa: that part to whom civilisation has bequeathed just so much of its possessions as it did not want – just its old dirty clothes.

Where the river makes its greatest curves it has worn away the outside bank and so broadened itself into a great ( and shallower) sheet of water at two of these curves especially the great volume of water swirls round with such force as to set up circular currents which at times become very marked. The larger and more famous one is quite near Matadi and is known as the Devils Cauldron. When the river is high this is a strong circular whirlpool of considerable size – a death trap to any canoe which gets out of control and a danger to a small ship. A steamer would be little affected, but we keep well to the outside – and Matadi comes into view as we round this last bend. A pleasing sight from this distance is the little town at the foot of the great hills.

The Portuguese sailors came up this river sometime around 1482 – long before the days of steamship: they must have been wonderfully skilled in manipulating their little sailing boats to get them right up beyond the site where Matadi now is – passing the Devils Cauldron and all the other difficulty’s of the river until the rapids barred their way.

Mission boat crew at Matadi

We moored alongside Matadi landing stage just after 8.0am and spent most of the morning getting ourselves and our baggage off the ship. We passed all our hand luggage etc. through the customs and went to the Mission House by boat for a meal and rest. returning in the afternoon to the large new customs house near the pier to get all our large baggage through customs. We are not allowed to touch it until this has been done and as it takes some time to transfer everybody’s stuff from the ship to the “Douane” we made good use of the time by eating and sleeping!

We “paraded” after dinner with keys and screwdrivers very much in evidence and wore on our faces a beseeching look as if we were dying to open and unpack everything for the customs officers!! One member of the party even went so far as to unscrew two screws of one of his packing cases and that did the trick: the customs officer before whom we had made our declarations – and incidentally to whom we had paid over 1000 francs as a party – came along and said he would pass the whole 115 cases unopened and unexamined. These we stored in a large shed until they could be put on the railway. 

The staff ordinarily stationed at Matadi were home on furlough. Rev.Gaylon was in charge, he and Christie Davies came down to Matadi to welcome and conduct the party up to Kinshasa.

We spent a most delightful evening  feeling we had “something attempted, something done” retiring in good time after yarning, telling and hearing a larger collection of funny stories than – I think – I have ever heard at one sitting anywhere else.