Gerald Durrell - The Overloaded Ark

My Watchnight was a tall, slim young man, clad in a tiny loin-cloth, and armed with a spear of incredible dimensions. He would arrive at sunset and leave again at dawn. To begin with he was under the impression that I paid him in order that he should get a good night’s sleep by the kitchen fire. I quickly put an end to this idea by finding him asleep during his first night’s duty, and firing the shotgun off by his ear, with the most gratifying results. He never again slept unless he was sure that I was too tired to wake up and detect him. At first he did not take his duties very seriously; during the day he was employed as a wine tapper and, as all good tappers should, he tasted the wine as he tapped it in order to make sure that it was fit for his customers. Then he would arrive at night, unsteady with the fatigue of this public duty, and fall asleep by the kitchen fire. The shotgun method, when I caught him, never failed to wake him up. But, try as I would, I could not impress him with the danger of ants. His patrol was a half-hearted affair, and only the largest and most widespread attack on the part of the driven would have come to his notice. Then, one night, he got the fright of his life, and this cured him of his lackadaisical ant-watching.

Every fortnight the village would hold a dance in the centre of the main street. This was a great social event, and everyone would dress themselves in their best print clothes and turn up, to spend the entire night shuffling and swaying in a circle by the flickering light of a small hurricane lamp to the plaintive twittering of one flute and the solemn thudding of drums. I had been invited to one of these dances and I had gone clad in dressing-gown and pyjamas, armed with a table and chair, the necessary stimulants, and my largest Tilly lamp. The arrival of this monster lamp was greeted with screams of joy by the dancers, for the greatly increased illumination allowed them to see where they were dancing and to perform even more complicated steps. They threw themselves with great zest into the task of entertaining me and when, some two hours later, I went back to bed, I left the Tilly lamp in the midst of the swaying hypnotized circle, with the instructions that it was to be brought back in the morning. This gesture of goodwill had a very good effect and after that, even if work prevented me from going down to the dance myself, I always sent the lamp, and always it was greeted with shouts of joy, handclaps and cries of “Tank you, Masa, tank you . . ” which I could hear even in the camp.

One evening I received a message that the villagers were putting on an extra special dance in my honour and would I, and my lamp, care to take part in the festivities? I said that I was honoured and that, even if I could not manage it, I would be represented by my lamp. It so happened that I finished work earlier than usual, and so I found I could attend. Before going down to the village I gave strict instructions to the Watchnight that, should anything happen in my absence, he was to call me immediately. Then, preceded by the lamp, and followed by my table and chair, I went to join the revels. The dance was good and prolonged. At length I decided that, if I wanted to get up early the next morning, I would have to return to bed. Leaving the light to the dancers I walked back to camp, preceded by a hurricane lamp, and followed behind by my table and chair. On reaching the edge of the compound we discovered the Watchnight performing strange antics by the light of his lamp. He was dancing around, occasionally slapping himself and swearing roundly in Banyangi, and sweeping wildly at the ground with a small bundle of twigs.

“Watchnight, na whatee?” I called.

“Na ants, sah, na plenty ants.”

I rushed across the compound and found the Watchnight covered with driver ants and the ground a moving carpet. A steady stream of reinforcements was pouring out of the bushes. Already the ants were spreading over a wide area, and some of the advance exploring parties were within a few feet of the animal-house wall. There was no time to be lost if I wanted to prevent the ants getting in amongst the cages.

“Pious,” I yelled, “Augustine, George, Daniel, come quickly.”

They came running across the compound. By this time I was also covered with ants, and there was nothing for it but to remove every stitch of clothing. Stark naked I organized my equally nude staff for battle.

“George, go get dry stick and leaf . . . quick . . . bring plenty. Pious go get the tins of kerosene. Watchnight and Daniel, go make the kitchen fire big and bring fire here . . . quick . . . quick. . . .”

They ran to do what they were told, and I gathered a handful of leafy twigs and started an attack on the advance column nearest to the wall of the animal house, sweeping with all my might with one hand, trying to pluck the biting ants from my body with the other. George arrived with a great armful of dry branches and leaves, and these we piled on top of the main column which was streaming out of the forest. We soaked the dry sticks with kerosene and set light to them. Grabbing a tin of kerosene I rushed round and round the animal house pouring it as I went, while Daniel ran behind piling sticks on and setting them on fire. Having ringed the animals with fire I felt a bit better, but the fire had to be closely watched to see the sparks from it did not fall on the palm-leaf roof and set the whole house ablaze. It had been a near thing: another few minutes and the vanguard of the ants would have been through the wall and amongst the cages piled in tiers inside. Leaving Pious and George to keep the protecting ring of fire alight, I turned my attention to my tent. To say that it was full of ants means nothing: ants oozed from every part of it, and its green canvas walls were a black moving curtain of ants. Three boxes of skins pinned out to dry were full to overflowing with ants, and the skins were ruined. My bed was being explored very thoroughly by a party of several thousand soldiers, as also were my gun-cases, my clothes box, the traps and nets, and the medicine chest. It took three hours to clear the tent alone; dawn was breaking before we had the invasion under control. We gathered together, naked and dirty, and proceeded to pick the ants from each other’s bodies.

My interview with the Watchnight, when I was washed and dressed, and more or less in my right mind, was prolonged and angry. At the end I had him bound and standing between two husky men who were, I informed him, going to take him to the District Officer to give him in charge for neglect of duty, attempting to kill me and my collection, sleeping at his post, failing to sound the alarm, and a host of other crimes. I told him, with relish, how the District Officer would take a very stern view of his crimes, and the least he could hope for was two years in jail. At last, cheese-colour with fear, he begged to be let off. With a great show of reluctance I promised him one more chance. But, I warned him, if driver ants came within a hundred yards of the camp again, and he failed to give the alarm, he would be dealt with in the most severe manner. . . . I even hinted darkly at life imprisonment. The threat worked, and after that his night patrols in search of ants were models of perfection, and every driver-ant column was seen and headed off in time.

Another thing I had to impress on the Watchnight was that should an animal escape from its cage during the night he was directly responsible. Twice animals had found a loose bar, or a corner of wire unnailed, and they had faded into the forest, while the Watchnight snored on his kerosene tin, supporting his nodding head on his enormous spear. Apart from a lecture I did nothing, for the animals in question were common enough and could be procured again. But I determined that, when a suitable opportunity arose, the Watchnight should have a lesson. It happened one evening after dark that a hunter brought in a half-grown Pangolin. I bought it and placed it in the makeshift box with a variety of things piled on top to prevent its escape. Knowing the strength that these creatures have in their front claws, I warned the Watchnight to keep a close watch on the box to see it did not escape. Before retiring to bed each night I would make a round of all the cages to make sure all was in order, and that every door was securely locked. On peering into the box which had housed the Pangolin I found it empty: how it got out was a mystery, for the articles were still piled undisturbed on top. But I was used to these Houdini-like escapes, and so I did not waste any time trying to puzzle it out. I called to the Watchnight, and pointed to the empty box: