The real AFRICAN QUEEN STORY
up the river in native log canoes and came back every evening drenched to the skin. These British lads had wonderful stamina and we Americans admired their courage. Nothing seemed to perturb them, even in the darkest days. We often used to wonder what would have happened if one of these log canoes had capsized and tipped them out among the crocs!
By this time, Bogie was beginning to look like some wild jungle Tarzan. For his role in the picture, he had to grow a beard and, although I’ve seen him playing many outrageous characters in American pictures, this was the worst.
One of the greatest drawbacks was the failure of the rest of the equipment to arrive
at the camp. This had been bought at Lake Victoria some 1200km away and included the boat The African Queen, which was used in the movie. The engine and boiler for the boat had been made by an engineering company in
Nairobi about 3200km away and they had to be flown, shipped and brought by truck to the Biondo Forest. We had been waiting for three days and everybody was beginning to get worried.
But The African Queen arrived at last. The boat was fitted by the Africans and made ready for the great adventure. My husband, who was now known as “Captain Bogart”, was keen to try it out. We have our own boat back in Hollywood, The Santana, and Bogie is an authority on boats.
The great day came. Bogie, Katie, John Huston and
I took the boat out on the river. The perspiring African mechanic started the motor. We all waited. The motor came to life and for one horrible moment, we wondered what would happen! The African Queen shot away from the bank like a torpedo. The gear had been fixed in reverse! We disappeared round a bend in the river – backwards! Bogie still at the tiller was shaking all over the river. We finally hit a tree and stopped with a wham!
When the unit was ready to start shooting the film, the technicians found there was no water for the batteries that supplied power for the Technicolour cameras, but the chief electrician had a notion that he could fix this and he did. He poured bottles of Coca-Cola into sulphuric acid – we were waiting for the explosion, but all we heard were horrible gurgles. It worked!
Then we had a go at the raft, which was about nine to 12 metres square, built on log canoes and towed by a motor boat. Behind the large raft was a smaller one and, behind that, a cute little hut built on 150-litre oil drums. The hut was used as Katie’s dressing room and make-up and hairdressing departments. It also had a “little girl’s room” for, believe me, there were none in the jungle!
Every morning at the crack of dawn, we were wakened by an African who beat the tom-toms. We had to walk through the leper colony on our way to the river where the unit was shooting.
We spent six weeks on the
Congo River, meeting all kinds of hazards and frustrations. Every day, our camp and possessions became damper and greener. At night, when we went to bed, we heard a symphony of wheezes and coughs, and the noise of jungle insects.
One morning, we arrived at the location and had a dreadful shock. The African Queen had sunk! It took five hours to raise her with all hands on deck!
Next day, the cameras were focused on Katie with John directing her at the tiller of the boat. The huge copper boiler was making an awful noise. We all knew if that boiling menace tipped over, somebody would be badly injured. We were speeding down the river fast and had to twist around a bend. The raft was skidding along and we hit the bank. Katie was acting away and neither she nor John initially saw what was happening. Only John’s quick actions prevented a horrible accident, for the boiler toppled over and he sprang in front of Katie to take the blow for her. Of such stuff are directors made.
Some days after this we had our first illness in the camp. Make-up man George Frost went down with dysentery.
Our next victim was assistant director Guy Hamilton. He had been working very hard.
Then our camera engineer got appendicitis and had to be taken on the long journey to Stanleyville. We heard later that the party reached the hospital with two hours to spare.
One night in the camp we were awakened by the most awful, ear-piercing screams of alarm “Wake up, everybody! Great danger!” The shouting came from a Belgian who was in charge of our food supplies.
“Ants!” That one word spelt danger. We never liked to miss anything that was in any way exciting and when we reached the doctor’s hut, we saw billions of ants much bigger than anything we had ever seen. Katie ran around brandishing a huge stick and attacked the main column. We were all in a hysterical state by this time and had to resort to turning the insects out. We returned to bed feeling all in but satisfied that we had been able to cope with the ‘“invasion”.
The day came when we left Biondo and were headed to the Murchison Falls in Uganda, 1600km away. Here, we found that a magnificent houseboat had been chartered for us. It seemed like pure luxury, but several of the crew were very ill at once – fever, dysentery and violent sickness.
The last day we were filming in the church was the worst. Katie was very ill. As the preacher’s sister, she had to sing with religious fervour as she played the harmonium accompaniment to the hymn Guide Me, O Thou Great Jehovah. Poor Katie, there was nothing we could do for her. Between scenes, she would rise from the organ and grope her way outside. Then she would giddily pick her way back to her seat in front of the cameras.
A couple of days later, we had to stop work completely. The doctor ordered practically all the unit to bed. I think I found I was a better nurse than I thought I was. I tended to the needs of the boys and girls, supplying them with pills, medicines and rice pudding.
Things got really bad. The unit got smaller and smaller. Every day someone would be unable to rise and we found ourselves doing someone else’s job. The lucky exceptions were John, Bogie and me. Bogie did have a little discomfort. He got a jigger flea in his foot. Our head steward, Fupi, performed an operation on my husband’s foot with a darning needle and brought out the insect complete with eggs.
At last, we finished work in Africa and one grand day we watched our plane being “hetted up” at Entebbe, and not long afterwards arrived with a breath of thanks at London airport. When my husband and I reached our hotel, we shut off the phone and went to bed. We rested and slept for nearly three days. The nightmare safari was over and although we would not tackle such a journey again, we shall certainly remember it all our lives.