This river drains Ambaca, then falls into the Coanza to the southwest at Massangano.

We crossed the Lucalla by means of a large canoe kept there by a man who farms the ferry from the government, and charges about a penny per head.

A few miles beyond the Lucalla we came to the village of Ambaca, an important place in former times, but now a mere paltry village, beautifully situated on a little elevation in a plain surrounded on all hands by lofty mountains.

It has a jail, and a good house for the commandant, but neither fort nor church, though the ruins of a place of worship are still standing.
We were most kindly received by the commandant of Ambaca, Arsenio de Carpo, who spoke a little English.

He recommended wine for my debility, and here I took the first glass of that beverage I had taken in Africa.
I felt much refreshed, and could then realize and meditate on the weakening effects of the fever.