CHAPTER X

FROM BUSSA TO THE SEA; CONCLUSION OF OUR VOYAGE

The whole of the morning of the 3rd was occupied in receiving visits from people more or less nearly related to the chief, and in the afternoon I was informed that his Majesty himself would receive me.

We crossed a marsh between the village and the bank, and duly arrived at Bussa.

There is nothing very imposing about the town, and it has been recently much damaged by fire. We stopped at the door of a big round hut, some thirty-five to forty-five feet in diameter, which was really very well built. After a brief delay we were admitted.

The chief of Bussa was squatting on a bench of hardened earth, some twenty inches high, and wore a _bubu_ of doubtful cleanliness, and a cap such as that worn by the eunuch in Molière’s play to which I alluded in speaking of Dendi. The bench was covered with just such a red carpet, with a lion rampant as I had seen at Tenda. The chief’s spear was stuck in the ground beside him, and his sceptre consisted of a cane ornamented with copper and silver. A horribly ugly wife, with a face covered with scars, shared the royal bench, whilst the courtiers remained squatted on the sand during the interview. On entering the hut every one was expected to kneel, and on reaching the chief the visitor had again to prostrate himself and cast sand upon his own head.

A wooden bench was assigned to us to sit on, and I spread out the handsomest present I had brought with me.

Salutations were now exchanged. Thanks were given in the name of the Sultan of the French for the help given to Captain Toutée the year before by the Bussa canoes. I then slipped in a word about the facilities of transport I hoped for for myself.

The reply was evasive, and moreover the expression of the chief’s face was anything but intelligent. We returned on board.

The next day our visitors became more and more numerous. Having shown off the phonograph to various persons, the rumour of that wonderful instrument reached the ears of the chief himself, and he sent word to me that he too would like to hear it.

He was, however, unwilling to put himself to any inconvenience for the sake of it, and wished me to take it to him. Anywhere else but at Bussa I would have said he might go to the devil, for it would be a very delicate operation to take the phonograph to him, especially across the marsh. But I was determined to do all in my power to conciliate the chief, so as to have his aid when I crossed the rapids. Four of my strongest coolies were therefore told off to carry the instrument, which fortunately arrived without sustaining any damage.

The scene when I showed off the powers of the phonograph was interesting, for while the attendants of the chief could not conceal their surprise, he himself maintained his dignity, and his set features expressed nothing but stupidity. He offered us a sheep, because he said, “Now that we have been well amused, we must eat well.” Trying to turn his good humour to account, I reverted to the question I had at heart—the passage of the rapids. It appeared that my question on the subject had not been understood the evening before, at least so I was now given to understand. I repeated my request, taking care this time to make my meaning perfectly clear. I wanted Bussa canoes to take everything we had on board down below the rapids to the village of Auru, as they do the merchandise of the village. We ourselves could then pass down quite easily in our lightened crafts with the guides I also asked for. I got a promise at last that all my wishes should be met.

On the 5th, however, there were still no canoes, but at four o’clock the chief sent for me and told me that the whole thing was arranged and settled. In fact, I heard him give the orders to two negroes, who were, I was told, the chief canoe men. We agreed that I should pay two hundred thousand cowries. Thinking that everything was really settled this time, I gave the chief my own fowling-piece and a little pocket revolver.

During the day more big canoes, from about twenty-seven to thirty-three feet long, came alongside of our boats loaded with rice and the native produce called _karité_. The English at Seba I was told give two bags of salt for one of rice, and the _karité_ which comes from Rupia fetches a good price in the factories.

I must note here, _en passant_, how little we French know how to make the most of what we have in our colonies. This _karité_, for instance, which is a greasy substance extracted from the fruit of the _Bassia parkii_, is to be obtained in immense quantities in the French Sudan. It has been analyzed, and there has been a great deal of talk about it in periodical literature, but not a pound of it has been exported.

I had mentally fixed the 7th as the date for our departure from Bussa, at whatever cost. We had now been there three days, and the English must have heard of our arrival. How would they behave towards us? I know that the Royal Niger Company is not particularly scrupulous as to the means it employs, and of this there are plenty of well-known instances: such as the torture of Mizon by Flint at Akassa, after being wounded in a fight with the Patanis, who were perhaps incited against him; or in the case of the foundering of the _Ardent_, when her crew, deprived of fresh provisions, died off, the Company showing not a scrap of compassion for them, or at least not sending them any help.

From the English point of view, it would be a fairer way of making war to rouse the people of Bussa against us; but never mind, we have cannon, rifles, and thirty thousand cartridges, so that although the natives do own a certain number of quick-firing weapons, we should be the ones to get the best of it in a fight.

What I really dread more than the open hostility of the Company is a sham friendliness on their part. If they came to our aid, offering to help us, even in spite of ourselves, it would only be a bit of clever diplomacy on their part, really quite against our interests.

I knew that the English had a post at Leba, about forty-four miles down-stream, and if there happened to be men enough there, they might send a detachment up to us, to conquer difficulties they had themselves perhaps created, when they would loudly declare that they had saved our lives.

Should this take place, I feel pretty sure there are many in France who would be simple enough to be taken in; such a thing has happened before now, and I bet you anything you like, the English will be warmly thanked. Remaining behind after we are gone too, they will reap all the moral effect of our arrival from the Upper Niger; the natives distinguish very little between the different white nations, and it would be only too easy for the English to represent that we are fellow-countrymen of theirs who have established themselves higher up-stream.

If, therefore, we meant to succeed, and not to have our expedition fail at the very entrance of the long-hoped-for haven, we must push on as soon as possible, with or without the help of the natives. This was the resolution come to by us five in a little council of war we held together.

At four o’clock in the afternoon there was still no sign of a canoe. The moment of decision had come. We had quantities of things in our holds of little use or value, so I determined to lighten the boats as much as possible, partly to lessen their draught, and partly to make it easier to get at their bottoms to plug up any leak which should occur.

To begin with, there was all our ammunition, for except for a few, used to practise shooting and to kill crocodiles, our store of thirty thousand cartridges was intact. I decided to sacrifice twenty-two thousand, and Digui, having found a place where the river was deep enough not to dry up in the summer, our canoe went backwards and forwards, and our men threw the cases into the river one by one. The natives of Bussa ran to the banks and looked on in stupefied astonishment; the copper cases gleaming in the sunshine excited their cupidity.

Next we drowned many of our other stores. Into the water with our bottles of oil and pots of pomade! Then into the fire with our celluloid bracelets, necklaces, and rings! The despair of the natives on the bank became deeper and deeper, reaching its height when, just to wind up with _éclat_ and to increase their regrets rather than from necessity, we flung two or three dozen many-coloured umbrellas on to the blazing pile. This produced positive desolation amongst the spectators. All the better, it would teach them to behave properly to foreigners.

A Fulah, sent I was told by the Sultan of Gando, flung himself at my feet and entreated me to stop the destruction, assuring me that the chief of Bussa would do all we wished. I reminded him of a proverb current in his native place: “It is no good to put the fish back in the water after it is cooked.” I had often been to that monarch’s court, I added, and I had no time to begin all over again, probably in vain, the palavers of yesterday and the day before that. I had had enough of it now.

The river was falling too; we had noticed a decrease of some four inches in the depth of the water during the last twenty-four hours, and although all the natives agreed in declaring that it was only temporary, I was not going to run the risk of finding our passage blocked.

Amongst the crowd I noticed a _diavandu_ from Igga, who was trying to incite the natives against us. There were several of his fellow-countrymen there too, easily identified by their _bubus_ with the green embroideries already referred to as sold by the Niger Company.

I was now assured that the chief had had his canoe men put in irons for disappointing us, but unfortunately a minute afterwards I recognized them in the crowd.

I copy the following sentence from my journal written on the spur of the moment—

“It is very evident that the English have not lost time since last year; they have not, it is true, as I feared they would, pushed their effective occupation up-stream, but have merely, so to speak, set going the cavalry of Saint George. Their plan is simply to delay us; yes, to delay us till it is impossible for our boats to pass the rapids. We should then be obliged to go by land through Burgu, which they know to be dangerous, and where they have no doubt sown obstacles for us—one well-aimed shot, one well-planted poisoned arrow, and there would be an end of our expedition and its results. Otherwise there would be nothing left for us to do but to go down to Leba and ask the English to co-operate with us.

“This was the policy described by Agoult, but _Inch Allah!_ our rivals will not have the latter satisfaction. Let us pass the rapids somehow or other, and I promise myself that I will describe the odiousness of such conduct even to, indeed especially to, the honest portion of the English nation. The first thing to be done is to pass the rapids.”

Weary of the dispute, and seeing that I was quite decided not to return to the village, the messenger from the chief now left. Our old guide was in despair, for he had boasted so much to us of his influence over the chief of Bussa. “I must have become blind or stupid,” he said, “for he cannot really have been telling lies all the time.”

I tried to persuade Amadu to accompany us at least, but he confessed that though it was true he had passed the rapids, it was twenty years ago. Still he did not like to refuse straight out. He would land now, and then he would see.

Night had now fallen, and a quarter of an hour after our guide had left we heard loud cries and the noise of people running. We seized our weapons, but it was only old Amadu coming back out of breath. Four or five pieces of stuff which I had given him as payment had been stolen from him. Some men had fallen on him about half-way to the village.

Seeing that they meant to take his life, or at least to deprive him of liberty, he had drawn his sword (it was only a bit of iron from an old cask), resolved to defend himself to the last. The Bussa bravos, five against one poor old man, had at first run away, and Amadu had profited by their alarm to take to his own legs. Then they ran after him again, but he managed to get safely back to us on board our boat without further adventures.

These silly natives had thus secured us a guide on whom I had certainly not counted, for Amadu would not leave our boats now. I asked him if he wanted to go down as far as Leba, to which he replied “_Dolé_,” or needs must.

For the whole night I pondered on the situation, whilst a continual watch was kept on board. My first idea was to bombard the village of Bussa at daybreak, and thus give its people a severe lesson. There really had been a flagrant and successful attack made on the person of a member of my expedition.

Further reflection, however, brought me to a better mind, for, truth to tell, I did not know how matters stood with regard to the questions of delimitation between the French and the English. The latter claim Bussa in virtue of treaties made with the Royal Niger Company, but Commandant Toutée denies that these treaties are valid. Who is right? Who is wrong? I am sure I don’t know. The chief of Bussa acted towards me as if he were quite independent, and perhaps he is the one to speak the truth after all.

If, however, the actual or implicit assertions of the English be true, it results that one of their _protégés_ had committed an aggression on one of our party, the odium and responsibility of which rests with them. Either they have effective power and real influence at Bussa, which would make them accomplices, or they have not, and in the latter case their assertions are lies. The dilemma appears to me to be one difficult to elude, and I leave to French diplomatists the task of deducting from it the practical consequences.

I think I must have scented mischief when I refrained from accepting the chief’s last invitation. That at least was the opinion of our guide, for he is convinced that if he had not made his escape the evening before, his head would have been no longer on his shoulders.

I learnt later that when the attack took place on the director Fonssagrives at Yangbassu, the people of Bussa had sent reinforcements to the assailants. Once more a mere chance had saved us from a great danger, and from falling into the trap set for us.

The 7th and 8th of this month will ever remain in our memories two of the most terrible of the whole journey. Just because we had in them to meet the last dangers of our eventful journey down the Niger, at least of those dangers for which Nature alone was responsible, the anxiety they caused seemed almost unbearable.

At first the river was easily navigable enough, but we soon came to the first rapid. This we crossed successfully, however, the _Davoust_ in one great rush, the _Aube_ after being compelled to anchor just above it, till Digui returned for her with a reinforcement of rowers.

We anchored at Malali for breakfast, and Digui went to reconnoitre the rapid below that village. We were just finishing our meal when some messengers arrived from the chief of Bussa. Yet again we are to hear from him!

The messengers explained that although a nominal ruler, the chief had really less influence than any one in his village. He had done his very utmost to overcome the indifference of those about him to our wishes, but it had all been in vain. “We were relations!” he added, and he did not wish us to go away angry with him. To this I replied that one of our men had been molested and robbed, and I would not add a syllable to anything which was said until the objects stolen from him had been restored and the guilty men punished. The messengers swore that the chief knew nothing about the outrage, and, after all, this may have been true, for this poor down-trodden demi-god of a chief had none but venal courtiers about him, and unless we interfere to save it, Bussa is a prey marked down for the big teeth of perfidious Albion.

Digui returned wet through; he had tried to shoot the rapid, but the canoe was swamped, and he had only just time to save himself by running her into the bank. In fact, it was quite impossible to reconnoitre here as we had hitherto done. We had to make examining the river from the banks do. Such was the violence of the current, so narrow were the passes and so big the waves, that canoes could only pass the rapids by shooting through little channels quite impracticable to our barges.

A dreary prospect truly! But one way was open to us, and not even the natives knew anything about it. We walked along the bank, and an eager discussion took place at each eddy we came to. Were there rocks beneath them or were they merely whirlpools? At last, thanks be to God, we came to the end of them.

We managed, after all, to pass them all in our boats, and they were indeed enough to terrify any one; but they were really more alarming than dangerous, for there was plenty of water above most of the rocks. In one pass, some 54 yards wide, shut in between two large reefs, a good half of the waters of the Niger flings itself over with a tremendous roar.

The immense velocity of the current is such that the water dashes up the banks like the waves of the sea, and there is one paradoxical thing about it: the level is at least three feet higher near the banks than in midstream, where a kind of trough is formed.

It is along this trough that we have to steer, and it is really very dreadful to see the large masses of water piled up on either side, looking as if they were ready to rush together and engulf us between them.

Digui made a very sensible speech to his crew.

“Attention,” he cried, “no one is to look out of the boat; every one must put out all his strength; but I’ll break the head of the first man who looks beyond the deck.”

Then ensued thirty seconds of mortal agony; there was a kind of flash like lightning, and the current had seized the barge in its grip, hugging it tightly. The vessel seemed about to break beneath the masses of water flung back from the banks to the centre of the stream, but it was over; we had got safely through the pass.

I estimate the speed of the current at from twelve to fourteen miles, and if the boat had struck on an unnoticed rock as it rushed along, we knew that it must have been split open from stem to stern.

On the right of the pass is a group of little islands where the current is broken up, and its strength lessened. It is amongst them that canoes are able to get through, turning the quieter water to account; but, as I said before, the passes there were too narrow for our boats.

We were soon flung on to a second rapid, less majestic and terrible in appearance, but perhaps more dangerous than the first. To pass it safely, we had to steer to the left to begin with, and then bear to the right as much as possible to avoid the waves driven back in that direction by a great rock over which the water fell like a huge moustache; only the utmost care and skill saved the boats from being flung upon a bank of sharp flints near the left bank. In fact, it was an even more delicate manœuvre to achieve than to describe!

Beyond this rapid the water was boiling and seething as in some huge caldron; whirlpools and waves met and clashed into each other, and even between the rapids, in comparatively calm water, there was such a swell on that the boats were lifted high up and rolled about as if at sea.

We anchored off Garafiri, whilst above and below us roared the rapids.

The next day, the 8th, we started early and passed without difficulty the Kandji rapid, which is comparatively easy. We breakfasted at Konotasi; at least, that is the way the natives seem to me to pronounce the name marked Kpatachi on maps.

Digui again went to reconnoitre, and came back with the gloomy face of old difficult days. The trading canoes which had left Bussa during our stay there had not yet gone, but were about to discharge their cargoes. They would take a little channel on the right, but it was too narrow for us. Moreover, there was not yet water enough even for native boats, and they would have to wait for an inundation. We must again follow the main stream, and we went along the banks to look for the pass.

Malali was nothing to what we had now to encounter, for the only pass was by an opening not as big as that of the sluice of a canal.

“Can we pass, Digui?” we asked.—“Yes, perhaps,” he replied, “if it is the will of Allah!”

With this assurance we had to be content, and I gave the order “Forward!”

When my old guide saw us steering towards the left to take the course impracticable even to native canoes he was terrified. “_Laol alla! Laol alla!_” he cried, “there is no pass there!” I put my hand over his mouth to make him hold his tongue, and flinging himself upon the deck he hid his head in his cloak.

I got my camera ready for taking a photograph, but Digui said to me. “It is not worth while!”—“Why?” I asked.—“Because you will not be able to look. You will be afraid!”

Yet Digui had seen me look at places still less attractive than this pass, which was no pass.

I proved him wrong to some extent, for I did succeed in getting two photographs of the banks we were passing. I don’t deny, however, that I felt a slight shudder pass over me, and I hope I am not more of a coward than any one else would have been under the circumstances.

This time we experienced a peculiar sensation such as we had never had before; when the boat passed over the whirlpools, everywhere intersecting each other, it seemed to be alternately sucked in and flung out again by the masses of water.

One instant of calm, then a second rapid, and we anchored in a little creek; Digui then went back to fetch the _Aube_ and the _Dantec_, and we found ourselves all once more safely together.

We had still two more rapids to cross, the first easy, the second more difficult, on account of a very violent current flowing towards a channel on the left encumbered with flints.

According to the maps, we should now come to a stretch of calm water. I hoped to anchor above the Auru pass, which would be the last, and to attempt its passage the next day.

At Auru the Niger makes a bend to the right of ninety degrees, and the main channel is so terribly encumbered with rocks and impedimenta of all kinds, whilst the current is at the same time so fearfully strong, that it would not do to attempt to go down it in the night. However, there is an arm which cuts across the bend, and though still very difficult, makes it possible to shoot the rapid.

All of a sudden, as we were quietly going along, the river in front of us seemed to turn abruptly to the right.

I began to suspect that there was a mistake on the maps, and that we were much nearer to Auru than we had thought. Still I hesitated for a minute. However, there was a little channel on the right with a hill rising above it on which was perched a village. It _must_ be Auru. Just then the main current, which grew rapidly stronger, seized us, and we were on the point of being swept down by it and swamped. “To the bank! To the bank, Digui!” I shouted; “quick, quick!”—“All right, all right,” was the reply, and he tried to wring an explanation out of the guide, who could give none. Ten seconds wasted in discussion, and it would be too late. We _were_ too late; we had passed the practicable channel.

“Anchor! anchor!” I shouted. Yes, the anchors hold, and for the moment we are saved!

On our starboard the banks consisted of half-submerged flints, from which grew some small aquatic trees. It was this vegetation which had misled our guide, for when he was here twenty years before it did not exist.

We now had to make our way against the current to get back to the good channel. It was simply impossible to do so by rowing. The only thing to be done was to lengthen our ropes, and fastening them to trees, tow ourselves along, so to speak, from place to place. It took us about three hours and a half to do it.

Somehow or another, however, we did achieve the difficult task of getting safely into the right course again.

The _Dantec_, which had anchored behind the _Davoust_, had only a light load now, and I thought it would take less time for her to cross the river and go up along the left bank, where the current was less violent.

Unfortunately, however, the manœuvre was not executed as quickly as it should have been, for the _Dantec_ drifted a good way in making the crossing, and it was just all she could do to get up-stream again.

We moored the two big boats to trees, and Digui went once more to reconnoitre. We now had to slip as best we could through the narrow channels between the rocks, before we attempted the shooting of the rapid itself.

We should have had time to pass before night, but I would not leave the _Dantec_ behind, and I sent Digui in his canoe to her with extra rowers. We remained moored to our trees, and fortunately found near our stopping-place a little bit of nearly dry ground, where we were able to light a fire.

At first we could see the _Dantec_ slowly making her way up-stream, then she became hidden by trees. Two whole hours of suspense passed by, and it was now quite dark. We shouted as loud as we could to make ourselves heard above the noise of the rapids, but no answer came for a long time. All of a sudden we heard Digui’s voice crying: “We are swamped!” A momentary lull in the roar of the water had enabled us to hear these far from reassuring words, but the rest died away in the darkness of the night. Was our barge then at the bottom of the river? What had become of our coolies? Were they drowned or clinging to some bushes on the bank? There was no way of helping them, for Digui had taken the canoe. It was a cruel moment for us all, and our anxiety was redoubled when we presently saw the canoe coming back with only three men in her.

But after all every one was safe and the barge uninjured. As she was going up-stream the _Dantec_ had got her mast caught in a tree, and had been tilted over so that she filled with water; in fact was, as Digui had cried, swamped for the moment. Fortunately, however, some roots kept her up, and our coolies had managed to get rid of the water and float her again. She was not able to join us yet, but she was moored to some trees quite close to us.

That night was anything but pleasant to any of us. We were wet through, and anxiety about the morrow kept us awake. After a time the perpetual noise of the water surging about the rocks and round the trunks of the trees produces a peculiar effect on the mind, an effect alike strange and depressing, for one fancies one hears the moaning of the spirits of the water, which the natives believe haunt the river.

Our guide told us that the Auru rapids are inhabited by demons, whose voices are heard at night. They are said to have a passion for everything of a red colour, so that those who navigate the river have to hide anything of that hue, lest the demons should swamp their boats for the sake of getting possession of it.

I never saw the devils of Auru, but I can honestly say that I heard them; in fact, that we all heard them. All through the night one or the other of us was constantly being woke up by peculiar noises, amongst which we certainly fancied we could distinguish voices.

In this frame of mind, and unable as we were to communicate with the _Dantec_, we kept thinking that some misfortune had befallen her, and that the strange voices were those of our coolies clinging perhaps to trees as they called for help, or consulting together what they could do to save themselves.

But day dawned at last, and we succeeded in towing back the _Dantec_, on which we found our men all well, though very cold and weary. We now held a consultation and decided that the _Davoust_ should pass first and anchor opposite the point of the island between the two arms of the river. Digui and some coolies would then go back from there to help in bringing down the _Aube_ and the _Dantec_.

We threaded our way carefully amongst the rocks to keep in the right channel, and then the _Dantec_ simply fell into the rapids. There was less swell with fewer waves than there had been at Garafiri or at Konotasi, but I think there was also less depth of water. On the right and the left were countless rocks over which the river dashed foaming and seething. We found it impossible to anchor as we had intended off the end of the island, for the current swept us into the village of lower Auru on the right bank.

I therefore sent Digui back by land with some of the men. We waited for two hours without hearing anything. At last we saw one of the coolies running back to us, and he brought the bad news that in trying to cross the small arm of the river to take the second master pilot on board, the canoe had capsized, and the _Aube_ had now no means of communicating with the land. Baudry had sent to ask me to try and get a boat from the village. I went there, and with the aid of our guide Amadu I made my request. Very great unwillingness to grant it was at first shown, followed by a formal refusal on the ground that the villagers had been forbidden to help us. Who had forbidden it? I could not find out. I drew forth my revolver and held it to the chief’s forehead. It was the first and last time I ever had recourse to such an argument as this, but it had the desired effect. A canoe was sent off from the village with two rowers, and I went along the bank to the place where the _Aube_ was anchored.

When I got there, I found that the canoe was righted again. Our coolies had plunged into the very rapid itself, and clinging to submerged roots they had succeeded in passing ropes under her keel and floating her. The water where she had gone down was more than nine feet deep. Brave fellows, indeed, were these coolies of mine! They may have their faults; they are gluttons and liars; they are often lazy enough; but on any dangerous emergency these scions of the noble Sarracolais race rise to the occasion, and their devotion may be depended upon under whatever strain.

Baudry now informed me that the rudder of the _Dantec_ was broken, so that it was impossible to steer her. “Take the crew off and abandon her? No! I hope to take her on by towing her!”

I watched everything made ready for the difficult manœuvre. The _Dantec_ was towed along from tree to tree, to the very edge of the big rapid, whilst behind her came the canoe with a rope passed twice round a trunk, as her bow plunged into the foam. On the stern of the _Aube_ stood Samba Demba, our best coolie, with a coiled rope in his arms, ready to fling it to the _Dantec_ as she went over the rapid. One second’s hesitation, and everything would go wrong, and I was on the very point of shouting to Baudry to give up his plan, but it was really such a splendid piece of daring, such a thoroughly sailor-like thing to do, that I refrained. Yet once more, thank God, we succeeded, coming off with flying colours.

Slowly the _Aube_ loosened her moorings, and the current at first took her gently down, then quicker and ever quicker she rushed along as she crossed the _Dantec_. Bravo! the rope, flung with unerring aim, fell right into her bow. “Let go all!” and the _Aube_ and _Dantec_ plunged into the rapid. Will they be able to shoot it in safety? The shouts of the excited coolies reach me above the roar of the water. The doctor and Bluzet have each taken an oar. For a moment I thought all the boats would be flung against the rocks on the left, which would have been their complete destruction; but the next I saw them gradually bearing to the right. At last they were through, all danger past!

The _Aube_, swept on by the current, could not stop near the _Davoust_, and there was yet another rapid, quite a small one, below the village. She passed it without difficulty, and went to anchor some hundred yards down-stream, where we hastened to join her.

We had done with the rapids now, and not one of us was missing, not one of our boats had been lost. We clasped each other’s hands without a word.

But our excitement gradually subsided, and we shouted, “Filey, get us some breakfast; and mind you do your best!”

We started again about two o’clock, and half-an-hour later we were opposite Leba, where floats the white flag of the Royal Niger Company, with its ship and the circle cut across by three rays, bearing the motto, _Pax, Jus, Ars_. Here we had to meet our last danger. What would the English do? I awaited them with composure, for it is we who have the whip hand now, and to begin by showing them that I was not going to submit to a compulsory halt, we passed on without stopping at Leba. There was a good deal of bustle at the station, however, and eleven riflemen came out and took up their position on the bank. Certainly there was effective occupation here, not a doubt of it; only every one will admit that no such effective occupation has taken place higher up-stream. My difficulties at Bussa may perhaps be renewed here, indeed increased. Lower Auru is about a mile and three-quarters from Leba. Either the English rule here or they do not; in the former case, it was they who had told the natives not to give us any help when two of our boats were in the greatest danger. In the second case, this effective occupation is very precarious and limited at the only point where there are any troops, and for the very best of reasons it does not extend to Bussa, which, from the European point of view, remains _rex nullius_.

A tornado compelled us to anchor about four o’clock near the left bank, and we kept as strict a watch as we had done in the Tuareg country. We took care to be on our guard against _a blow from the Tatanis_, such as had succeeded so well in the case of Mizon.

For the sake of those who have forgotten that incident I will add here that Mizon was attacked at the mouth of the Niger by Patanis, when he was entering it in his vessel, the _René Caillé_. When he complained, the Niger Company replied: “We were not aware that you were there.” Those very Patanis, his enemies of the day before, brought him wood for burning, by order of the English agent.

At about eight o’clock on October 10 we passed Badjibo, or rather Guadjibo, where Captain Toutée had built Fort Arenberg. After he had evacuated it the English took possession of it, finding it in perfect repair. There is no doubt that as the Company already had a station at Leba, above Guadjibo, the French occupation of the latter place was open to discussion.

I once started a conversation in a meeting at the Sorbonne, which at one moment seemed likely to become acrimonious, for I quoted a remark of Baron d’Haussy, Naval Minister in the time of Charles X., as a base of the policy to be followed in dealing with the English. It is well known that in a talk with the English ambassador, d’Haussy, irritated at the off-hand manner of the latter, said: “If you want a diplomatic answer, the President of the Council will give it to you; as for me, I say, setting aside official language, that _nous nous f . . . de vous_.”[11]

The remark was certainly not couched in diplomatic terms, but it represented the only way to treat the English. When, however, we act upon the principle applied we must take every care to be well within our rights. If, through any imprudence at the beginning, you lay yourself open to have to withdraw a single step later, your rivals know how to turn it to account by making you go back ten.

The village of Guadjibo is situated on the left bank. Fort Arenberg, the name of which the Royal Niger Company has changed into Taubman-Goldie, is opposite to it on the right bank. A guard of riflemen came to do us the honours of the pass, and then a few minutes later two canoes put off from the bank to follow us, but we gained rapidly upon them.

Without having stopped at either of the first two English posts we reached Geba, having thus asserted our right to navigate the river without any compulsory halt or any interference on the part of the Company.

As Geba is approached the scenery becomes more and more picturesque. Peaks hundreds of feet high dominate the almost precipitous verdure-clad hills, the bases of which are bathed by the river.

At last at four o’clock, suddenly rounding a headland, and steering from west to east, we found ourselves opposite a group of magnificent jagged rocks, whilst further on we could see the corrugated roofs and the piles of casks on the bank with the flag of the Royal Niger Company, belonging to the English station.

At Geba, as at Auru, the Niger is haunted by evil spirits, who are fond of red, so instead of advising us to follow the deep but narrow main channel between the lofty rocks, our guide wanted us to pass the rapid where the _Morning Star_, the boat of Richard Lander, the first explorer who had passed Bussa, had been wrecked.

To the great disappointment of our adviser, however, we insisted upon going between two large pillars of rock where there was no danger whatever. The rocks hid all the red on board our boats, except that in our flag.

Our boats came up one after the other, and anchored off the bank near the station of Geba.

A negro of Sierra Leone, a commercial agent, now came and placed himself at our disposal, pending the arrival of the Governor of the station, who, he informed us, had gone inland, and would not be back till near nightfall. Naturally I refused all offers of help until the Governor should return. An hour later we saw two canoes being paddled down-stream, and recognized them as those which had followed us since we left Guadjibo. In them were the Governor of the station, Captain Carrol, and some English soldiers in the service of the Company.

Having heard at Lakodja, the Governor told us, of our approaching arrival at Bussa, he had started at once with a strong escort, and by forced marches had gone up the banks of the river, knocking up two horses and getting fever, all for the sake of helping us in the name of the Company, and he had come back after all with an empty bag! At Leba he had heard of our passage, and had gone back, covering some seventy miles in twenty-four hours, to Fort Goldie, where he had waited for us to breakfast with him. Not having seen any whites there, however, he concluded we had passed, so that by chance, and chance is responsible for a good many things, it was I, who had come down from Timbuktu to his station, who welcomed him at his own post with the words, “How do you do?”

This was really one of the most amusing incidents of our journey. To a cynical observer the episode would have appeared truly unique.

The situation, amusing as it was, was however just a little strained. I confess too that with the memory fresh in my mind of all the difficulties I had had at Bussa and at Ilo, and which might easily have led to the loss of our boats, I did nothing to relieve the tension between us.

“Before I talk about anything else,” I said to Carrol, “I must tell you what happened at Bussa and at Auru, a few miles from your post at Leba. I will not accept the offers of service from the Company, nor from its agents, nor from its officers, until I know that you had nothing to do with those difficulties.”

Quite upset by what I said, he gave me his word, the word of a soldier, that he knew absolutely nothing about them. The same assurance was given to me later by Major Festing, military Commandant, and by the civilians Messrs. Drew and Wallace.

The ice was now broken, and we were able _inter pocula_ to allow ourselves the pleasure of chatting about European affairs with the Governor. He was the first European we had seen for a year. Ah, if only he had been a Frenchman!

Carrol was an Irishman, who spoke French well, and he lent us some English and French newspapers. He told us—without any details however—of the death of Mores, and of the massacre of a French expedition in the west on the Nikki side. We at once compared dates. This expedition consisted perhaps of our comrades sent to bring us the famous orders we had waited for at Say for five months. On hearing this sad news, I became eager to hasten our march to tell the people at Dahomey of the disturbed condition of the districts round Say. Later, Taburet was able to ascertain by carefully reading the English newspapers, that the expedition referred to was that led by Fonssagrives.

Captain Carrol, who was really a very good fellow and a capital companion, put everything he possessed at our disposal, and that meant a very great deal to us, though really he did not own much, for though the Royal Niger Company houses its officers well, it treats them shabbily, and makes them pay dearly for the few comforts they have.

We responded to Carrol’s hospitality by inviting him to dinner the next evening. Fortunately the chief of Ilo had not drunk all our champagne. We had plenty too of the wine we had brought as part of our rations, which in the course of all its travels had become very good claret, and with some mutton, for which of course we paid very dearly on principle, we managed to give our guests a very respectable meal. The English officers were a good deal surprised at finding us so well supplied with everything.

We were taking our coffee after dinner when we heard the whistle of one of the Company’s steamers. They were expecting the _Sudan_, I was told, an old cargo-boat which was to take Mr. Drew, executive officer of the district of Geba, to Lakodja. It turned out, however, not to have been the _Sudan’s_ whistle, but that of a mere launch called the _Bargu_, which had disturbed us.

Carrol sent word to Major Festing, who was on board, by a canoe, and a few minutes afterwards the military Commandant appeared in immaculate linen clothes, the evening dress of the colonies. We drank a glass of champagne together, the officer, who seemed very worried, tossing it off rapidly. As Carrol had done, he declared he had had nothing whatever to do with the Bussa affair, and I readily believed him. I still, however, felt some distrust of the agents of the Company, and I thought it my duty to decline the offer of Major Festing to tow our boats with his _Bargu_ as far as Lokodja. I thought I had better first have an explanation with the agents of the Company properly so called. I was told that Mr. Wallace, the general agent, was expected soon, and as he was on his way up the river, we were sure to meet him.

Still this did not prevent our fraternizing with Carrol and Festing; they spoke French, and we could jabber English after a fashion, though Taburet was the only one who knew it pretty well. In the morning two other officers arrived, one to replace, at Leba, a lieutenant who had lately died, and the other on his way to Geba or Guadjibo. Both had recently been wounded with poisoned arrows in a fight with the natives. The officers of the Royal Niger Company evidently have rather a rough time of it.

Taburet went to see the sick at the station, where there were neither medicine nor other remedies to be had. Just as we were leaving we saw some negroes approaching, loaded with a supply of beer and whisky for us. This delicate attention from Festing and Carrol was the better appreciated as we had been entirely deprived of these luxuries ever since we had left Kayes.

As a return gift we left the little organ at Geba, which had been our great joy at Say. It now belongs to Carrol’s successor, for we hear that the good Captain has returned safe and sound to his native country, rescued at last from the hands of the Royal Niger Company.

At about one o’clock in the afternoon of the 12th we left Geba, exchanging salutes with our flags with the station. Our old guide Amadu remained there, but Major Festing lent us a man in the service of the Company, who was, however, quite useless to us, as navigation here, difficult enough for large vessels, was perfectly easy for us now the water was so high. We had but to let ourselves go, and we went fast enough.

We reached Rabba, which seemed an unimportant factory, about five o’clock. This is the nearest point to Bidda, the capital of Nupé, which we knew to be at open war with the Company.

There are no whites at the factory of Rabba, and we did not have any dealings with the Sierra Leonese who is in charge of it.

We had been anchored for an hour, when the steam launch _Bargu_, with Major Festing on board, joined us. These launches, of which it is a pity there are not more on the Niger, are little steamers armed with a machine-gun. They carry an officer and some ten riflemen, who act as the river police only, and have nothing to do with transporting merchandise. Their office is by no means a sinecure.

The voyage began to tell very much on our men now. It was not only that they were very tired, but the rain was continuous all night, and sometimes also in the day, so that we had to put up the tents on the decks. These tents, moreover, were no longer water-tight, and the sleeping-place in the damp boats was very small.

Our negroes generally managed to stow themselves away under shelter somehow, often one on top of the other, but I should have liked better weather for this last bit of the journey, so that they might have been able to get over all they had gone through at Bussa. They made up for their discomfort at night by getting up late in the morning. All this, however, did not prevent us from making good headway without any over pressure, borne on as we were by the strong current. On the 13th we covered forty-five miles, going on until eight in the evening, just in time to anchor before we were overtaken by a tornado, and an awful one too. Fortunately we found shelter in a little gulf, and escaped with a good ducking.

On the 14th, judging by the rate at which we went, the current must have been yet stronger. We made some fifty miles, passed the night near Igga, and arrived there at eight o’clock in the morning on the 15th.

The country between Geba and Igga is uninteresting; no villages, or scarcely any, were passed, and there was no cultivation. The appearance of the banks is much what it is between Say and Bussa; a few _karités_ occur here and there, that is all. We met a canoe now and then only. The oil-palms, which had begun to appear beyond Say, now became more numerous, but the country still appeared deserted.

In a large plain near Igga there is a factory kept by a white man. Just before we reached it we saw a big boat called the _Nigritian_, which was formerly the pontoon of Yola. The Royal Niger Company had just been driven from the Benuë and from the Adamawa; its trading agents had been recalled, together with the pontoon they had been _authorized_ to use on the river. This must have been a very severe blow to the Company, for much of the ivory exported through their agents came from Adamawa and Muri.

The _Ribago_, a pretty little craft of from six to seven hundred tons, is moored at Igga. She is the best boat belonging to the Company. She brings down palm-oil in the nut before it is extracted, _karités_ and other articles for export. The oil is of a very fine quality indeed. It will probably be the _Ribago_ which will tow us down-stream if all is satisfactorily settled with the Company about Bussa and Auru.

The agent at Igga thought we should find Mr. Wallace at Lokodja. I was very anxious to see him, for it is with him I must get the misunderstanding, if misunderstanding there were, explained. His word alone would suffice to exonerate the Company from blame, and only if he could give me that word, should I care to accept his good offices on my behalf.

After passing an hour at our anchorage at Igga, we started for Lokodja to look for Mr. Wallace, whom it was very difficult to catch. Fortunately for us, the current was still very strong, but navigation was very tiring, for with the banks inundated as they were, it was difficult to find the bottom amongst the tall grass. Late in the evening we at last anchored near the left bank, and landed to cook a hasty meal. Fili, one of the coolies who looked after the kitchen department, had cleared a corner of bushes and lit a fire when, all of a sudden, the men made a rush for the boats screaming _manians! manians!_ They had been attacked by the black ants they call manians, the bite of which is very severe. No cooking for us to-night, no meal however simple! No sleep either for our poor men, for the rain began to pour down again. Worse still, the terrible manians began to climb on board by the anchor-chains, by the ropes of the grappling-hooks, by everything, in fact, which held us to the bank. They had come to storm the barges, and the ropes and chains became black with their swarms. The only way we were able to check this novel kind of invasion was by lowering the chains and ropes into the water.

This horribly comfortless night over, we started again with almost empty stomachs. The scenery was very picturesque, but although the water was high we felt the boats grate on the rocks lining the bed of the stream. Navigation must be generally far from easy here.

The vegetation now became denser, and the oil-palm of much more frequent occurrence. There were, however, few villages, and they became further apart, on the banks at least, as we advanced. At last in the evening our pilot told us we were approaching Lokodja. Picturesque hills, from about six hundred to a thousand feet high, lined the right bank, whilst on the left we could see the mouth of the Benuë, now greatly increased in width by inundations.

About six o’clock we came in sight of the huts of the village, rising in tiers from the slopes of a hill, their zinc roofs shining amongst the verdure in the glow of the setting sun. We were at Lokodja, and as it was nearly night we anchored off the bank.

Here we found Mr. Drew, the executive officer of the Company for the Lokodja-Geba district, for whom we had waited in vain at Geba, and also another officer who spoke French.

We were received with all due etiquette and invited to dinner. We talked about the river; and Mr. Drew, who did not allow himself to show any surprise at our having passed safely down it, must really have been astonished. He told us he had himself achieved the arduous task of going over the rapids in a light canoe accompanied by one man only. He had intended to go down to Bussa by the channel used by the natives. He had even been capsized, and dragged down into the whirlpool. He owed his life entirely to his canoe-man, who had plunged after him and brought him up from the bottom. He still had the scar of a wound he had got from the sharp flints, amongst which he had been rolled over and over.

Major Festing, who came in to dessert, invited us to go to him the next day. We cut but sorry figures beside our hosts in their unimpeachable costumes, for our clothes were torn by our struggles in the bush, our gold lace was tarnished, our breeches were patched, our boots had been bought in the country, and our helmets were terribly battered about.

I do not know which agent of the Company it was who refused to receive the leader of a French expedition because of his disreputable appearance, with untrimmed beard and clothes in rags. Times are greatly changed since then, or rather perhaps the instructions given have been modified.

The next day we had breakfast with Major Festing, and were most cordially received. Our host was then Commander-in-chief of the troops in the service of the Niger Company. Lokodja was his headquarters, and his soldiers, who were Haussas, were well lodged. Their cantonments are charming, and the Major’s house had every English comfort that could possibly be expected. Big airy rooms adorned with weapons, looking-glasses and hunting pictures, etc., native mats on the ground, flowers growing in the copper pots manufactured in the country. Everything very simple and suitable. Music was going on whilst we were at breakfast, as if we were on board an admiral’s flag-ship or at the Grand Hotel in Paris. Children played to us on the flute, regaling us with the familiar airs of the _café-concerts_ of France. We had printed _menus_, dainty salt-cellars, caviare, whisky-and-soda, good stout, etc. Oh, what a delight it was to eat a well-served meal on a table-cloth decked with fresh flowers! If only we had had a few ladies in light summer costumes to share it with us, it would indeed have been complete.

Major Festing most courteously placed at our disposal as interpreter, a Haussa sergeant of his from the Senegal, who had been at one time in the service of Mizon, and also of De Brazza. He spoke a little French, and had been one of the last to leave the station of Yola. He told us of all his strange wanderings to and fro, and piloted us about the town when we went to make our purchases, for we did make some purchases at Lokodja. To begin with, we supplemented our stores of provisions, which was very necessary, if we wished suitably to return the hospitality we received. We had, moreover, very little of the dinner service left which we had brought from France three years before. We had, it will be remembered, sent to the bottom of the river everything not absolutely indispensable, and we wanted some claret and champagne-glasses badly.

The natives of Lokodja were very civilized, using table napkins, basins, dishes with covers, china flower-pots, etc., sold to them by the Company, or rather bartered for native productions, for there is no money currency in the Niger districts. The wages of the troops, labour, and raw material are all paid for in merchandise, such as salt, stuffs or ware of different kinds. The Company seem to make considerable profit on these transactions. As for us, we were rich enough to be generous. Suleyman, our interpreter, received orders to buy everything offered at the price asked, for we should only have to throw the things which were too heavy to take on, into the water later. So we gave silk drawers for a dozen eggs, and long strings of pearls, false ones of course, for three bananas.

The generosity of Commandant Mattei, agent of the old French Niger Company, whom we so clumsily allowed an English Company to supplant, has become proverbial, and the natives often quote it apropos of the stinginess of the Niger Company. I am very sure that our stay at Lokodja did nothing to lessen the fame of French liberality. The natives of the banks of the Niger still bemoan the loss of French traders and the hauling down of the French flag.

Lokodja, which we were able to visit, is a fairly large village, very picturesquely situated on a mountain. It is cut across by ravines and shaded by banana and papaw-trees, with numerous oil-palms. There is a splendid view of the meeting of the Benuë and the Niger. The remains of the steam-boat _Sokkoto_, which was wrecked on a rock, are still to be seen, and further down the river are other stranded boats.

We were told that Lokodja is the principal town of an extensive district numbering from twenty to thirty thousand inhabitants. The town properly so called, however, does not contain more than from four to five thousand at the very most. The market, which is very extensive, is much frequented, and is held in the afternoon. All manner of European articles are offered for sale in it. The only native industries are the beating of copper and the manufacture of rather peculiar drawers made of two pieces of stuff sewn together and adorned with a kind of open work. The blacksmiths, who are very skilful in a kind of _repoussé_ work done with a pointed instrument on copper, make vases, cups, and ewers of it, which are really very original in design.

Most curious of all the specialities of Lokodja, however, are the games and the _tam-tams_ held there. In the former, the performers are all young graceful girls who are perfectly nude. I have visited many towns of low morality. I know Naples, Port Saïd, and Colombo. I have seen the so-called flower-boats of China and the Japanese _yoshivaras_ in that Orient where everything is possible, but never did I witness anything to be compared with what goes on at Lokodja.

The chief of the village is the well-known Abegga, and the name calls up for us French all manner of memories. Abegga is really almost a relation of mine, for he is a freed man who was bought at Sokoto, and given his liberty by my Uncle Barth. Abegga followed his master to England first and then to Germany. Back again in Africa, he entered the service of Commandant Mattei as interpreter, and to-day he is king of Lokodja. Such are the chances of life!

We were received by him with effusion, for we awoke all his old memories. Taburet, who from his translations from Barth’s book knew more about Abegga than Abegga did himself, had a long talk with him in English. In the end we sent our royal friend, Baudry’s hunting-piece as a present, by the hands of his envoy.

We expected every minute to hear of the arrival of Mr. Wallace, but he did not come. I could not remain at Lokodja for ever, so I took Mr. Drew’s word for it that

neither he nor the Company had had anything to do with our difficulties at Bussa and Auru, accepting the offer made to me with so much urgency that we should be towed down-stream by the _Ribago_, the steamboat we had met at Igga, and which had now come down again to Lokodja.

We were to start at two o’clock. After we had made our farewell visits I went to Mr. Drew and said, “I have decided to accept your offer of having us towed down-stream.” Then I added rather awkwardly, “How much?”

“Five pounds for each white man, and one for each black, was the reply.

A good price truly just for towing us down-stream! It would come to 1450 francs altogether! I merely, however, said “Oh!” just to relieve my feelings.

Now was not this rather sharp practice on the part of the Company? After pressing me so much to accept a service, I had imagined that it was offered gratuitously as between one friendly government and another, and what had annoyed me was the thought of being under an obligation to the Royal Niger Company. But I was quite wrong; I was dealing with the traders of the Company only, and that put me at my ease.

They may have thought that having come so far I should not have money enough left to pay them, and that I should have to leave in their debt, but I simply said to Mr. Drew—

“All right; I will come back and settle with you in a minute.”

A few moments later I arrived with my bag of crown-pieces. I had not, however, brought enough after all, for by some misunderstanding, no doubt, we really had to pay six pounds for each white man, and twenty-five shillings for each black, which mounted the sum-total up to 1800 francs. However, I was able to make up the difference at once all but two sous, I think, and those I sent by Digui.

No doubt Carrol foresaw all these mercenary dealings when we were at Geba, when he made such a fuss about paying Taburet for his attendance on the people who were ill at the station, and wanted to give me money for the miserable little musical-box which I had been so glad to leave with him as a token of my gratitude.

The Royal Niger Company had in fact treated our expedition as a party of traders, and I preferred that both for myself and for France. I do not therefore owe the members of that Company any more gratitude than I should the conductor of an omnibus in Paris when I have paid him my six sous.

The loading of the _Ribago_ went on slowly, but at five o’clock we started; the pipers of Major Festing came down to the quay and played the _Marseillaise_, whilst the guns of the station fired a salute as, towed by the _Ribago_, we left for Assaba.

Now for a couple of words about the Royal Niger Company. I will say nothing of the treaties or of the constitutive acts which preceded its formation, for I have not got to draw up an indictment against it. I will confine myself to quoting what Naval Lieutenant Agoult said on the subject—“The Company is but the screen behind which England hides herself.”

To the great detriment of the shareholders, the Company tries to create an Empire, and in view of its acquisitions of territory, to make head against the revolts caused by its rapacity, it is obliged to maintain an army relatively large.

This necessity causes a mischievous friction between the military and civilian officers in the service of the Queen, they and the trading agents sometimes carrying their animosity to each other so far as to come to blows.

Then again the officers are anything but well treated by the Company. Like the agents, they are taxed and taxed again. Heaven only knows what an arduous profession theirs is. Carrol was always on the road, and Festing, when we saw him, was suffering horribly from a liver complaint. He had just returned from a twenty days’ campaign against the villages in the bush on the left bank, and he was so tired he could not remain in the saddle. We were told of several officers having recently been killed by poisoned arrows, and of one who had died from eating poison in a village on the banks of the river.

Moreover, this armed force and all the courage and devotion of those who command it, fail to secure peace. Whilst we were on our voyage, the horsemen of Bidda had come down to pillage as far as the bank opposite Lokodja. It is only in the immediate neighbourhood of the stations that things are quiet. The steam-launches have to be constantly going up and down the arms of the river, especially in the delta, to keep the natives in awe with their riflemen and their machine-guns. It is rare for a boat to go down the river without being fired at. At Abo, lower down-stream, the people were astonished that we had been able to come so far without any fighting. It may have been the effect of the flag we carried, for the tricolour flag is still beloved and regretted in these parts for the sake of the memory of Commandant Mattei.

The Company does not hold the country beyond the banks of the river. Then, again, there are no means of communication between one place and another. Truly we French may be proud of our work in the French Sudan. We have done better than the English on the Upper Niger; our colonization is far superior to theirs. On the Lower Niger they have neither telegraph wires, for these go no further than Akassa and Brass, at the mouth of the river, no road at all to be compared with our line of revictualling posts, and of course, need we add? they have no railway!

It seems to me a fact that of all the Niger districts, the richest and the most favoured by Nature from every point of view are those we occupy in the French Sudan.

Assaba is the residence of the Agent-general of the Company, and there is a hospital there for the use of the employés. When the French mission of the _Pères du Saint Esprit_ left Lokodja it established itself at Assaba.

A missionary was waiting for us when we landed, and I went at once to his house. The situation is beautiful enough, but what a hard life the Fathers lead! They are, I believe, rather harassed by the Company, as much because they are French as because they are Catholic, and as a result their tale of converts is not very long. Some Sisters of Charity work in connection with them, and make their way on foot from village to village in the interior, marching at night to avoid the heat of the sun, and visiting the Christian natives far away from the river.

A few hours’ walk off, the Fathers told us, are some big, very big, villages, into which alone they are able to penetrate, not without considerable danger to life sometimes. Terrible scenes of human sacrifice and cannibalism have been witnessed by the devoted Sisters. Such atrocities would never be tolerated in the French Sudan.

But what does all that matter to the Company as long as it can buy its palm-oil at the market-price, a price fixed by force?

That evening we had to dine with us the only Father of the mission just then at Assaba, and two Sisters, one the Superior, Sister Damien, a pale-faced Italian, whose hands had become almost transparent, and whose features were wasted through successive attacks of fever. For all that she still eagerly pursued her vocation. I know nothing finer than the life led by these women at the extreme advance guard of civilization, exposed to the heat of the sun, to fever, to all manner of fatigue, to the indifference of the negroes, and sometimes, as if all that were not enough, to the malice of the whites.

I imagine that it was long since the Father and the Sisters had enjoyed themselves so much. Unfortunately a tornado burst upon us in the middle of dinner, and at eight o’clock we had to take refuge in Father Hacquart’s rooms, through the cracks in the roof of which, however, the rain poured in torrents.

We escorted our guests back to the mission house through the rain.

That same night the long-expected Mr. Wallace, Agent-general of the Company, arrived on the launch _Nupé_. I went to call on him the next day. After congratulating me on our successful journey, he renewed the assurances already made to me by Carrol, Festing, and Drew. I heard later that Mr. Flint, another important member of the Company, was also on board the _Nupé_. But he preferred to avoid us.

When we left we were able to rejoice the hearts of the missionaries of Assaba, with a few bales of stuffs and knick-knacks, with which they could reward their faithful natives. We wanted to stop at Onitcha, the cross of the mission of which we could already see, to give a greeting to the _Pères de Lyon_ stationed there, but the captain of the _Ribago_ told us he had been ordered not to go there, although Mr. Wallace had assured me to the contrary only a minute before.

Avoiding Onitcha, therefore, we went to anchor for a few moments, first at Illuchi, and then at Abo, where the _Ribago_ was to leave us.

The Company, however, was determined to escort us to the very threshold of their territories. Those who know what it is to be suspected, will involuntarily compare this conduct to the way in which, in certain shops, customers are escorted to the door lest they should steal anything on their way out.

No doubt, without being exactly sharpers, we might have got a lot of information, and have made observations on many things if we had remained longer on the river. Would that have been altogether to the advantage of the Company? D’Agoult says he saw the steamer laden with spirits going by, yet all the time, according to the Company, all its subjects, white or black, would, under its beneficial influence, become teetotalers or total abstainers.

It was politic too, perhaps, to hide from us the troubled state of the district all along the river, and the precarious position of the Company. Do its members know, I wonder, how happy these discontented regions once were under the French Company, and all that would result from the mere presence once again of the French flag?

As for me, however, I prefer to think simply that this obsequiousness of the Company towards us, this insistence on our accepting the offer of being towed down-stream, and paying for the service rendered, this eagerness to see us off, had but one aim, and that aim a humane one.

We were escorted to Wari to save us from another attack from the Patanis. Our departure was hastened because we were tired, worn out, eager to taste once more the joys of home and family life. All serious thinkers, whose opinion is of any weight, and who know anything about English ways, will agree with me, irony or no irony!

We dined at Abo, and when night had fallen, a launch arrived at our anchorage, which was to take charge of us. On board was a bright, jovial young officer, Lieutenant Aron by name, of Australian birth. Judging from what we saw of him, Australia must be to England what the south of France is to the French. Did he not tell us one day that the Company had a post at Kano, another at Kuka, and twelve big steamers on the river? But for these venial exaggerations he was a charming companion, what the English call a very good fellow, who made the hours we were in his company pass very pleasantly. We shall all, Lieutenant Aron included, long remember the dinner we had together on the _Kano_, as the Ganagana pontoon is called, whilst a tornado was raging, and he sung at the top of his voice all the comic songs in the Anglo-Franco repertory, to the accompaniment of the flute and the harmonium, whilst quaffing the whisky and the claret we still had left.

As is well known, the Niger flings itself into the sea in an immense number of branches. Two of these branches, viz. that of Brass and of Forcados, are more practicable for navigation than any others. The first belongs to the Royal Niger Company, the second to the Niger Protectorate, a regular colony governed directly from England, and I was told that the competition in trade between the two was very keen.

I had long intended to go down to the sea, not by the Brass, but by the Forcados branch, which would enable me to get away from the Royal Niger Company sooner, and pass a few days in the English districts on the coast belonging to the Niger Protectorate.

I preferred to embark there than in a port belonging to the Company. The two Companies are, as already stated, more or less rivals, and those on the French despatch boat _Ardent_ had cause to speak in terms of high praise of the way in which they were treated by the English of the Protectorate.

Lieutenant Aron accompanied us on the Forcados branch as far as Wari, where resides an English vice-consul. We were breakfasting on board the launch when we came in sight of the houses of Wari. Our three barges were roped together, and their three tricolour flags flying. The launch, however, could not hoist the British flag, its gear having somehow got damaged.

The _Dantec_ now brought us up to the stockade, where we awaited the arrival of the officers of the Protectorate. Then between ourselves and our guide began an animated and certainly very curious colloquy; astonishment on one side, vehement explanations on the other. What changes in the expressions of the faces of those engaged in the conversation! What shouts of laughter! What were they saying? This is what I thought I made out. Seeing our three barges each flying a tricolour flag, and the launch with no colours at all, the English of the Protectorate had thought we had retaliated on the Company by a skilful manœuvre for the bad turn they had done the French the year before. “The Company,” they said, “had intended to confiscate our barges, but they being well manned and well armed, had instead captured the launch and taken her down under the French flag to Wari.”

No, I cannot have understood the conversation, I must have dreamed it all! The English never could have believed us capable of such a thing, and would never have suggested it, even in their own language. And yet—!

Who was it told me that the Protectorate and the Company were enemies at heart, and that the English of Wari are always brooding on the damages paid to the Niger traders on account of a certain attack on the people of Brass from Akassa?

No doubt all these are merely such calumnies as are always circulating.

We shall, all five of us, always remember the welcome we received at Wari from the agents of the Protectorate, and this memory will be the more cherished because a few days after our return to France we heard the terrible news of the death of several of them, who, having gone on a mission to the interior almost unarmed, were massacred by the natives of Benin.

We had the best of receptions at Wari; the officers even gave up their rooms and their very beds to us, knowing how greatly we should appreciate such comforts. We became much attached to our new friends.

At Wari I got rid of all the rest of my stores, which would have been an encumbrance to me on my return journey. There were plenty for the missionaries and for the servants at the Consulate. Suzanne, our bicycle, rejoiced the heart of a Sierra Leonese; the _Dantec_, with a few bottles of claret, delighted Lieutenant Aron; even the _Aube_ we left as a token of our friendship with the agents at the Consulate. We were generous, no doubt, but unless we had sunk our barges when we got to the sea, what else could we have done with them?

As for the _Davoust_, it took us two days to empty, dismantle, and take her to pieces, after which she was embarked in sections on board the _Axim_, a Liverpool steamer, which took her back to Europe.

Sold as old metal, and what she fetched debited to the credit of the budget of our expedition, all that is left of the _Davoust_ is now circulating in fairs or figuring in shop-windows, in the form of light match-boxes and other small articles such as are made of aluminium.

And this was the end of all the three sturdy barks: _Davoust_, _Aube_, and _Dantec_, which for twelve whole months were all the world to us!

The _Dantec_ had often seemed likely never to get to the end of her journey; the _Aube_ certainly ought not to have arrived, judging by the two or three occasions on which she had seemed done for; at the end of the voyage you could put your fingers through her rotten planking. If she had run aground but once more, or if she had got another blow in passing the last rapid, all would have been over with her worm-eaten keel, and also with her crew. The _Davoust_ too had received many wounds, and what was more serious still, oxidation was beginning to work havoc in her sections.

Ten times at least, face to face with some specially bad rapids, I had made up my mind to lose one of the three, if not all; but, as the English said, they were gallant ships. Bravely, in spite of rapids, whirlpools, and rocks, they had made for the appointed goal, the mouth of the river, bringing there without faltering the whole expedition: we white men, the coolies, all our goods, and the French flag!

No doubt it was Aube, Dantec, and Davoust, their sponsors, our comrades, who had died at the task of the conquest of the Niger, who had brought good luck to our three boats.

Thanks to them, I had kept my oath of 1888.

It was not therefore without emotion, without a sadness which may have been childish, but which many will understand, that we parted finally with the companions of so many dangers.

Have not boats souls? Sailors love them like old friends, like heirlooms. We must attach ourselves affectionately to something in this life, must we not?

The _Axim_ took us to Forcados; the _Forcados_ to Lago; the _Olinda_, chartered specially for us, to Porto Novo.

On November 1, at five o’clock in the morning, there was great excitement at the house of the officers of Porto Novo. Some people had suddenly arrived, and were banging against the shutters. The door was soon half-opened and a voice inquired, “Who are you?”—“Hourst!”—“Where do you come from?”—“Timbuktu”— and the next moment, without any further questioning, we all fell into each other’s arms.

After all I experienced in Dahomey and in the Senegal, I will not dwell too much on the goodness the Governor-General, M. Chaudié, showed to us on our return, on the kindness he lavished upon every member of the expedition, or on the reception our friends of St. Louis gave us later, but I can never thank any of them enough.

We dismissed our coolies at St. Louis, thus effecting an immense economy. Abdulaye, the carpenter, at once changed his costume for that of a private citizen. A soft hat, a frock-coat, and a cane with a silver handle, converted the chrysalis into a butterfly; at the same time our old servant began to make up for his long months of sobriety and abstinence. It was, in fact, impossible to find him even to give him an extra tip.

The rest of our coolies dispersed about the town, holding receptions in all the public places of the Sarracolais quarter, telling their adventures with much declamation, and eliciting considerable applause.

The negroes also, it seems, have their mutual admiration for geographical societies!

Later all the brave fellows who had been devoted to us to the death, and some of whom we looked upon as real friends, dispersed themselves once more amongst the Galam villages dotted along the banks of the Senegal, and there at least I can confidently assert our mission, or rather, as Digui called it, the _Munition_, was and still is popular.

That is something, at all events.

On December 12, 1896, we landed from the steamer on the quay of Marseilles, where men were spitting just as they had been when I left Brest. Looking out of the window of my cab upon the deserted street, I saw a little Italian boy in the drizzling rain which was falling, holding in his arms a plaster statuette representing a nude woman with graceful, supple limbs, probably meant for Diana resting on a crescent of the moon. She and her bearer looked cold and melancholy enough. This was my first sight of a really civilized human being after my three years’ exile.

EPILOGUE

I have now narrated all our adventures, and I leave my readers to judge of our work. I think it necessary still just to jot down here the practical conclusions I came to, which may be of use later in French colonial policy.

To begin with, let us consider how to turn the Niger to account as a highway for reaching the heart of the Western Sudan.

The French _Journal Officiel_ of Western Africa has published a report written by Baudry on the possible importations and exportations, to which I have nothing to add. To every unprejudiced mind he has clearly proved that there is great wealth of natural produce to be found in these districts, such as india-rubber, gutta-percha, skins, wool, wax, _karité_, cotton, etc., which can easily be bought, and are, in fact, simply waiting to be developed.

Now which would be the best route to take these products to France? This is the point we have to elucidate to begin with.

We brought home our hydrographical map of the Niger, from Timbuktu to Bussa, on a scale of 16 miles to the inch, in fifty sheets. One glance at it will suffice to show that the river is not really practically navigable further than Ansongo: that is to say, 435 miles below the last French port in the Sudan.

Further down than Ansongo the river is simply one hopeless labyrinth of rocks, islands, reefs, and rapids; and although at the time of our transit there seemed to be fewer obstacles between Say and Tchakatchi than elsewhere, it must be remembered that we passed when the water was at its maximum height. As for the Bussa rapids, they are simply impassable for laden boats.

“You passed all right, though!” some one said to me; and so we did, but I think the _tour de force_ by which, thanks to our lucky star, we achieved our passage under the greatest difficulties, would not be successful once in three times. We might, however, go down again once more, but to go up would be quite a different matter.

None but little boats, very lightly laden, or without any cargo, such as the canoes of the natives, can venture without foolhardiness into such passes as we came through.

This is certainly not the way in which a river can be remuneratively navigated. Even if an attempt were made to employ the primitive means alone likely to succeed, beasts of burden, such as camels, could compete on disastrous terms with the waterway.

To attempt therefore to turn the river to account in supplying the central districts with merchandise, or to bring down their products to the coast, would simply result in failure. To take merchandise up to Say by means of the lower branches of the river, is but a utopian dream, which would but result in disaster to those traders involved in the speculation.

Nature has, in fact, laid her interdict on the navigation of a great part of the course of the Niger; but at least the 435 navigable miles above Ansongo, and between it and Timbuktu, added to the 622 between the latter town and Kolikoro, form what may be characterized as a safe mill-stream, _well within the French districts_. We have not as yet nearly realized all the resources of those districts.

How then shall we get to this mill-stream of ours, or, as we may perhaps call it, this inland trading lake? A unique solution to the problem presents itself: we must finish the line of railway uniting Kayes to Kolikoro.

The first workers at the task of penetrating into Africa were right. The project of Mungo Park, and Faidherbe, taken up and continued by the Desbordes, the Gallieni, the Archinards, etc., should be continued, pushed on and completed without delay.

All has already been explored. We are no longer discussing a castle in the air, with no firm foundations. We know what that railway will cost, its whole course has been decided on and surveyed; only one thing is still needed, and that is money. It is for the French Government to ask for it, and for the French Parliament to grant it. Certain there be who deliberately oppose French colonial expansion; with them discussion is impossible. I do not try to convince them, for they are already proved to be in the wrong.

There are, however, others, noble and loyal Frenchmen, who stigmatize as sterile all the efforts we make beyond seas to add to the possessions of our native country. “What,” they urge, “you talk of wholesale emigration, when the population of France is by no means increasing!”

This is, after all, only a specious argument. Who speaks of advising expatriation _en masse_ to Frenchmen for the sake of peopling distant countries? All the colonies suitable for _peopling_ have already been appropriated by our English rivals. Australia was the last of them.

With regard, however, to _colonies for exploration_, it is quite a different matter. And with the fullest conviction of my soul, I say France ought to acquire such colonies. Through them alone will she recover her commercial ascendency, which has been so seriously jeopardized; through them alone will her _social position become assured_.

Take, for instance, some child, the son of a workman or farmer: he goes to the school of his quarter or village. Intelligent and hardworking, he soon wins the affection of his teacher. “Work,” says that teacher; “to every one the reward is sure, according to his merits. Think of Pasteur, the son of a workman, to whom all Europe renders homage.”

Believing what he is told, the child works on. At first the State fulfils the promises made through the lips of the master. The teacher has spoken to the inspector of his _protégé_, the rector bestirs himself in the matter, the minister even intervenes, encouragement and money aid alike are lavished upon the young fellow. His zeal increases, he redoubles his application, he passes all the examinations and gets all the honours possible, till the University has no more to teach. Teacher, rector, minister, all justly pride themselves in having done their duty by him.

I have visited the lower course of the river, with the districts under the control of the Royal Niger Company, and I can confidently assert that except for palm-oil, which is only to be obtained on the seaboard, none of the exports, gum, india-rubber, ivory, and above all, _karité_, are wanting in the French Sudan. In fact, we have all these things in greater quantities than the English, without counting the products peculiar to our districts, but unknown at the mouth of the river.

Let us then make that railway, and make it quickly. Do not let us waste any more time talking about it; do not let us turn aside for any other projects, and when some 373 miles of iron road unite some 622 miles of the navigable Senegal, with no less than 1056 miles of the Niger, all alike fit to be navigated by our boats, we shall have a second Algeria, larger and richer than the first. The mind can scarcely grasp the idea of the new source of fortune to be opened to France by a thing so simple as this, a thing in which the Belgians have been beforehand with us—the construction of a railway. Stanley was right when he said Africa would belong to the first who should lay down a line of railway through it.[12]

This will bring us to Ansongo. Are we to let it be the limit of our zone of trading operations? No, certainly not; and this brings me to a second result won by our expedition: the opening of relations with the Awellimiden.

I have constituted myself the defender of the Tuaregs. I have shown them to be less cruel, less traitorous, less hostile to progress than they are generally said to be. It is for the reader to judge whether the adventures I have related do or do not prove my impressions to have been correct.

One thing, however, I must stipulate, and that is: if we let months or years slip by without improving the relations opened with the Tuaregs of the Niger by further contact with them, we shall find them more difficult to deal with, more suspicious, altogether less accessible than we did during our stay in their country.

As I have already said, the Azgueurs were in our hands after the journey of Duveyrier. Ikhenukhen, their great chief, who was honoured and obeyed by them, was our friend. When the treaty of Rhâdames was made, we said to them, “We want to go to the Sudan by way of Aïr: you will guide us, you will protect our traders, you will hire your camels to us, and you will find it to your profit to do so.”

A Tuareg proverb says, “You should never promise more than half what you mean to perform.”

The Azgueurs of course expected our caravans to arrive, and they are still expecting them. Gradually, however, they are beginning to doubt us. “What,” they are saying, “did those Frenchmen, who seemed so anxious to trade in our country, come to do here?” When this question is put to a Tuareg, he will answer immediately, “They came to spy; they were the spies of a great army, which will come to take away our liberty and our independence.”

In the English of Tripoli and their agent, the Kaimakhan of Rhâdames, they would have advisers, who would increase their suspicions of us. Little by little the sympathy the Tuaregs had felt for us would give way to dread of us. Ikhenukhen is dead now, the Sahara is closed to us, more completely closed than when Duveyrier visited it, or when Barth and Richardson crossed it.

If we are equally negligent with the Awellimiden, we shall obtain equally melancholy results.

If only an opposite policy could be pursued, how different everything would be!

Whilst waiting for that iron road, and alas! its completion is very far off! the only means of transit—bearing in mind the impossibility of navigating the second section of the river—is to employ the comparatively cheap and easily obtained ships of the desert, the ugly but useful camels.

Now the camels all belong to the Tuaregs, generally to their Imrad tribes.

Let us imagine that the railway is completed, that boats brought up in sections to Kolikoro have been put together there, and are going down the river as far as Gao, boats sufficiently well armed to make the French respected, and of sufficient tonnage to carry merchandise; we should at once have either at Gao or somewhere else in its neighbourhood, a centre, so to speak, of transit, to which the Tuaregs could bring their animals to be laden, and acting as convoys to our caravans, would be most useful auxiliaries to the French traders.

Do not let any one urge against this the pillaging instincts of the Tuaregs. To begin with, it is in our power, if necessary, to destroy, or at least to insist, upon the removal elsewhere, of the riveraine negro villages, an excellent way of keeping the natives in awe, for we should then have it in our power to avenge ourselves efficaciously on them in case of their hostility, for it is from these riveraine districts that they obtain the grain which is their only food.

I assert, however, that it would never be necessary to proceed to such extremities as that.

The Tuaregs are alike too intelligent and avaricious of gain to risk raids, the result of which would be uncertain, when merely letting out their camels on hire would bring them in alike a greater and a surer profit.

By doing as I suggest, the old route from Gao to Lake Tchad, one of the most ancient in Northern Africa, could be reopened. This route, bearing as it does in the direction of Gober and Aïr, and skirting the Sahara, as it were in the rear, might in the end be made to connect the French Sudan with Algeria and Tunis.

To achieve this I repeat we must not give the marabouts, who are badly disposed towards the French, time to destroy our work before it is fairly begun; we must not by too long a delay, awake once more the suspicions of the Awellimiden, which are always easily aroused.

I do not pretend to say that any immediate profits would result from the course I advocate. Skins, wool, and gum are all too heavy to make it worth while to export them by difficult and costly modes of transport from Timbuktu to Kolikoro, and from Kolikoro to Diubeba, where ends at the present moment the railway from the Senegal to the Niger.

It is, however, absolutely necessary to pave the way for traffic even at the cost of a temporary loss, so that it may be in full swing from the very day of the completion of the railway, when steamers will begin to ply on the navigable portion of the Niger.

On that day our hydrographical map, which is so far the chief result of our expedition, will find its use!

Was our stay at Say a profitable one? The future alone can decide.

I do think, however, that at least our gentle and benevolent behaviour to the peaceable natives, to the tillers of the soil, the Koyraberos, must, however obtuse their intelligence, have proved to them that these French infidels, these Kaffirs, as they called us, were not really exactly what their marabouts told them we were: ferocious beasts.

Moreover, our establishing ourselves in our island, and our stay at Fort Archinard, in spite of the prohibition of our enemy, Amadu Cheiku, under his very eyes, as it were, and in spite of all his satellites could do, all his vain intrigues against us, must surely have weakened his influence and his prestige.

We could not possibly have done more than we did with the very small force at our command, and in view of the instructions we had received to maintain the pacific character of our expedition, instructions, alas! which to the end remained incomplete, and were very different from what I had hoped they would be.

With regard to the Lower Niger it is best to be silent. There is far too much competition there with other European nations, and it would only lessen the effect of the results we had been able to obtain, whether those results were great or small, to publish what they were. It is for diplomacy to deal with them, bearing in mind that our rivals know on occasion how to act with what I may call quite a special bad geographical faith, which is not, however, any longer effective, since we have now reconnoitred and examined the districts in dispute.

I may add that we also brought back with us a few collections, and what was, as it appears to me, a most important point, the results of as careful a study as possible of the different dialects spoken in the river districts.

There is nothing which gains the confidence of the natives more than to be able to speak, or even to jabber, their language. The effect on the Tuaregs especially is immense when they find that a European can say a few phrases in Tamschenk, and a very great stride has been made towards a good understanding when those sentences have been pronounced.

Whatever may be the results of our journey, I should be guilty of the grossest ingratitude if I concluded my account of our adventures in any other way than by thanking all the devoted companions who helped me to bring it to a successful conclusion.

Our negroes, those brave Senagalese, whom we have watched at their work so long, who were so devoted, so _French_, who so blindly followed the chief whose service they had entered, had held their own lives cheap, and now shared with us the proud sense of duty accomplished.

Then above all, our thanks are due to my friends Baudry, Bluzet, Taburet, and Father Hacquart. We were going back now to civilized life, perhaps to disperse to the four corners of the earth, but a bond had been formed between us which nothing will ever break. As for me, that bond was made up chiefly of loving gratitude, for to them is due the fact that I was able to keep my oath made when Davoust died, to serve my country and to increase the extent of the future possessions of France.

Thanks too must be given to those who aided me by their influence, their encouragement, and their contributions, no matter how small. As my readers have seen, the beginning of the hydrographical expedition I commanded was set about with many difficulties, and I can honestly assert that I suffered far more personally just because of my zeal for the task I had undertaken; a task which when completed would extend the area of our colonial possessions and make them better known, which would add to the wealth and the power of my native country. Yes, I suffered more than if I had been a bad officer, caring little about his duty.

I wish I could say that at least all was changed on my return, but truth compels me to add that there were certain notable exceptions to the general sympathy with me, and the general kindness of the reception given to me.

But never mind, the sense of having done one’s duty is worth more than anything else.

It is to you, dear friends, dear companions on the Niger, that I add—“Let people say what they will; a hundred years hence many things and many men will be forgotten, but for all that, it will be as true then as it is now, that our hydrographical expedition was the first to descend the Niger, the first to explore its course from Kolikoro to the sea.”

A French sailor, Francis Garnier by name, on his way to Tonquin, which he had to aid in conquering, and where he was to end his days, wrote to his mother describing all the difficulties he would have to contend with, adding, “But I do not mind, mother dear. Forward, for the sake of old France!”

For ourselves, and for those who are to come after us in Africa or elsewhere, I too close my narrative with the same words. “Forward, for the sake of old France!”

INDEX

Abd el Kader, Arab name of Hourst, 90, 191, 196, 309

Abder Rhaman, a chief, 142, 144

Abdu, 285-288, 293

Abdul Dori, 65, 66, 78, 98

Abdulaye, a carpenter, 96, 189, 287, 319, 320, 335, 364, 370, 399, 496

Abdulaye Dem, Tierno, 41, 70, 84, 95, 96, 157, 196, 286, 338, 352, 353, 367, 397, 416

Abdul Bubakar, 329

Abdul Kerim, 88-90, 101, 103, 124, 146, 153, 154, 168, 174, 184, 191

Abegga, 484, 485

Abiddin, 75, 81, 101-108, 114, 118, 120, 121, 135, 140, 141

Abo, 350, 488, 490, 491

Abu, 147

Achur, 125

Adria, 158

Agata, a village, 135, 136

Aghades, 352

Agibu, 373

Agony, 358

Agoult, Naval Lieutenant, 456, 487, 491

Ahmadu Mumi, 280, 386, 387, 389

Ahmady Mody, 318, 338

Air, 176, 202, 207, 243, 247, 505, 507

Ajacin, 443

Akassa, 452, 488, 493

Algeria, 49, 129, 144, 201, 228, 242, 247, 504, 507

Algiers, 228

Ali, 306

Aliburi, 282, 310, 313, 320, 388

Alif, 118

Alimsar, 240, 241, 426

Alkori, 204

Al Walidj, 104

Amacher, 202, 222

Amadi, 79, 80

Amadu, a guide, 436-439, 442-445, 456, 457, 468

Amadu Cheiku, 37, 181, 271, 274, 280, 283, 290, 291, 307, 312-317, 372, 384, 508

Amadu Lobbo Cissé, a chief, 78

Amadu Saturu or Modibo, 285, 286, 288, 290-292, 299, 326, 347, 359, 361, 365-368, 373, 378, 382-387, 388-391

Amiru of Torodi, 313

Amrar, 178, 244

Ansars, 208

Ansel Makkoren, 144

Ansongo, 99, 100, 165, 181-184, 188, 192, 269, 368, 369, 373, 498, 499, 504

Arabu, 310, 364

Archinard, General, 37, 284, 298, 299, 500

_Ardent, The_, 452, 492

Ardos of Massina, 316

Argungu, 412, 421

Arhlal, 101

Armas, the, or Romas, 144, 168, 208, 209, 216, 217

Aron, Lieutenant, 491, 492, 494

Askia, 165, 167, 193, 207, 316

Assaba, 487-490

Atakor n’Ahaggar, 202, 207, 243

Atchino, 331, 358, 399

Attanoux, 84, 160, 172

Aube, 30, 495

_Aube, The_, 52, 59, 60, 94, 99, 123, 146, 147, 156, 186, 188, 193, 251, 255, 256, 258, 260, 275-277, 299, 304, 338, 357, 358, 459, 463, 467-469, 494

Auru, 265, 368, 369, 438, 449, 464, 466, 467, 470, 472, 474, 479, 485

Aussa, Igwadaren, the, 90, 131

Autel Makhoren, 134

Awellimiden, the, 88, 104-106, 120, 129-131, 136, 148, 152, 167, 170, 173, 174, 176, 177, 181, 195, 196, 201, 203, 204, 209, 217, 219, 231, 236, 238, 240, 241, 243, 246, 247, 271, 315, 379, 426, 504, 506, 507

Azemay, 277

Azgueurs, the, 160, 172, 197, 201, 248, 504

Baba Hamet, 80, 146, 177

Badjibo or Guadjibo, 470

Bafing, a stream, 7, 42

Bafulabé, 7, 34, 38, 42

Bakel, 27, 30

Bakhoy, the, 7, 39, 42

Balia, 180, 181

Ballot, Governor, 33

Bamako, 52, 289, 405

Bamana Dankun, 71

Bamba, 136, 148

Bambara, 60, 62, 68, 71, 281, 351, 411

Bandiagara, 65, 288, 290, 363, 364, 367, 371, 372

_Bargu, The_, 475, 477

Baror, a rock, 149, 155

Barth, Dr. Henry, 1, 2, 10, 75, 88, 89, 101, 124, 129, 142, 149, 152, 156, 165, 166, 179, 180, 184-186, 194, 201, 240, 251, 357, 367, 484, 485, 505

Baruba, 142

Baud, 32, 33, 285, 286, 423, 427

Baudry, Lieutenant, 14, 17, 20, 21, 23, 28, 32, 34, 36-39, 41, 64, 94, 97, 100, 132, 160, 182, 188, 197, 254-257, 261, 302, 323, 335, 337, 352, 353, 364, 371, 399, 421, 468, 469, 485, 498, 510

Baye Hamet, 80, 146, 177

Beba, 182

Bechir Uld Mbirikat, 88, 118

Beckay Uld Ama Lamine, 75, 76

Bedda of Ida, 228

Belle or Bellates, 215, 216, 251

Benin, 493

Beni-Omia, law of, 236-238

Bentia, the Biting of Barth, 194

Benuë, 479, 481, 483

Berber, 203, 204

Bidda, 437, 476, 488

Bikini, 405

Bilali Cumba, a coolie, 29

Bilinga, 375

Bina, Ali, 47

Biskra, 78

Bluzet, Lieutenant, 37-41, 44, 45, 64, 94, 97, 100, 158, 290, 303, 304, 325, 340, 353, 354, 374, 408, 469, 510

Bobo, 282

Bokar Ahmidu Collado, 372

Boker Wandieïdu, 218, 252, 269-271

Bolard, Léon, 19, 20, 38

Bonnier, Colonel, 30, 118, 218

Bori, 100

Bornu, 179

Bozos, the, 316, 351, 354

Brass, 488, 493

_Brazil, The_, 21, 23

Brid’oison, M., 352

Brière de l’Isle, 24

_Brière de l’Isle, The_, 27, 30

Bubakar-Singo, 28, 39

Bubodji, 406

Burdane, 202

Buré, an island, 189, 191

Burgu, 408, 420, 423, 455

Burrem, 98, 100

Burrum, 10, 160, 165, 413

Bussa, 5, 289, 303, 408, 425, 431, 433, 434, 437, 439, 440, 443-449, 451, 452, 454, 459, 462, 470, 472, 474, 479, 481, 498, 499

Bussuma, 373

Caillé, René, 75

Cape Verd, 21

Carnot, M., 176

Caron, 8, 33, 41, 309

Carrol, Captain, 473, 475, 476, 486, 487, 490

Cayor, 23, 24, 282, 319, 364, 388

Chalor, a rock, 149

Chambas, the, 204, 248

Charenton, 435

Chaudié, M., Governor-General, 37, 496

Chautemps, M., Colonial Minister, 37

Cheibatan, the, 240, 242

Cherbourg, 22

Colbert, 5

Congo, the, 36

Conquet, 399

Dafins, the, 274

Dahomey, 32, 33, 96, 289, 290, 331, 358, 399, 474, 496

Dakar, 21, 25, 87

Damels, 23

_Dantec, The_, 52, 95, 99, 156, 188, 254-256, 260, 357, 463, 465, 468, 469, 492, 494

Davoust, Naval Lieutenant, 7, 10, 34, 427, 439, 495, 510

_Davoust, The_, 11, 13, 21, 23, 28, 29, 34, 38, 41, 44, 59, 60, 65, 93, 99, 112, 117, 146, 149, 156, 178, 193, 194, 250, 255, 256, 259, 263, 277, 300, 306, 370, 459, 465, 469, 494, 495

Day, 93

Dē, 367

Debo, Lake, 74, 78, 140, 298, 334, 405

De Brazza, 482

Decœur, 32, 33, 286, 358, 423, 436

Delcassé, M., 6, 7, 10

Dendi, 317, 377, 404, 406, 409, 411, 413, 414, 417, 419, 423, 446

Dendikobes, the, 377

Dentchendu, 385, 391, 421

Dergona, 179, 180, 181

Desa, 268

Desbordes, 500

Destenaves, Captain, 34, 39, 65, 66

Diafara, 373

Diamu, 97, 337

Diena, 35

Digui or Samba Amadi, 39, 41, 95, 197, 255, 256, 259-261, 264, 267, 275, 317, 318, 329, 369, 376, 381, 399, 407, 442, 454, 459, 460, 462, 463, 465, 467, 486, 496

Diko, 153

Diubeba, 42, 507

Diulas, the, 330

Djamarata, 368, 379

Djanaru, 316

Djerma, 385-389, 421

Djermakoy, 384, 385, 421

Djermankobes, 298, 313, 325

Djidjima, 442

Djitafe, 81

Djula, 375

Dodds, General, 358

Dongoe, 148, 149, 218

Dori, 65, 66, 243, 312, 368, 373

Dosso, 389

Drew, Mr., 474, 475, 481, 485, 486, 490

Duentza, 312

Dunga, 280-284, 300, 312, 382, 387, 397

Dungu, 313, 315

Duveyrier, 197, 201, 243-245, 248, 504, 505

Ebener, Colonel, 33

Eguedeche, 145, 146

El Abaker, 208

El Hadj Omar, 75, 76, 79, 129, 313, 314, 316, 386, 397

El Khotab, 154, 168, 170, 240

El Mekki, 182, 183, 186, 270, 271

El Sirat, 272

El Waghdu, 124

El Yacin, 178, 219

Emir el Munemin, 308, 314

Emir Ikenukhen, 244, 504, 505

Fabu, 67

Fafa, 194, 197, 250, 379

Faguibine, Lake, 33

Faidherbe, General, 17, 24, 352, 500

Fandu, 314, 316

Fanta, 380

Farca, 268, 270, 272, 273

Farimake, 372

Fatimata Azzer’a, 237

Faure, Felix, President, 176

Festing, Major, 474-477, 481, 482, 487, 490

Fily or Fili Kanté, 97, 304, 333, 337, 340, 469, 480

Fituka, 316

Flatters, 114, 145, 244, 391

Flint, Mr., 490

Fogne, 443

Fonssagrives, 458, 474

Footah, 66, 280, 352

_Forcades, The_, 495

Forcados, 492, 495

Forgo, 164

Fort Archinard, 39, 298, 302, 306, 317, 320-325, 332-337, 339, 344, 348, 356, 360, 371, 387, 392, 398-400, 403, 508

Fort Arenberg or Taubman-Goldie, 470, 471, 473

Fort Goree, 21

Froger, Naval-Ensign, 7

Fulahs or Peuls, the, 3, 65, 75, 78, 129, 166, 181, 194, 202, 251, 271, 280, 309, 312, 314, 316, 325, 351, 352, 359, 362, 363, 368, 379, 386, 394, 396, 408, 422, 436, 454

Futanis, the, 406, 408, 411, 426

Futankés, the, 282, 290, 385, 406

Gaberos, the, 181, 315, 316, 382, 384

Gabibi, the, 216

Gagno, 422

Galam, 496

Gallieni, Colonel, 67, 284, 500

Gambia, the, 6

Gando, 428, 429, 438, 454

Gao or Garo, 165-167, 268, 279, 506, 507

Gao-Wâdy, 242, 243

Garafiri, 462, 467

Garama, 166

Garamantes, the, 166

Gardio, 140

Garnier, Francis, 511

Gauthiot, M., 36, 37, 170

Geba, 471-476, 481, 486

Geigelia, 93

Gheres, 237

Gherinecha, 237, 238

Gilua, 439

Giraudon, M. de, 352

Girris, 427-429, 435

Gober or Sinder, 207, 313, 507

Gomba, 433, 436, 437

Goruberi, 411, 414, 420, 424

Gorubi, 412

Gourma, 316, 317, 328

Grodet, M., 20, 28, 32, 289

Grunner, Dr , 428, 438

Guadjibo or Badjibo, 470, 471, 473, 476

Guinina, 67

Gumba, 405

Gundam, 129

Gungi, 134, 136, 140

Guni, 62

Gurao, 74, 77, 334

Gurienisi, the, 325

Gurma, 354, 366, 387

Ha, 163

Habés, the, 367

Habibulaye, 78, 80, 81

Hacquart, Father, 83, 87, 94, 97, 103, 107, 118, 136, 145, 156-158, 172-174, 258, 272, 278, 279, 283, 290, 303, 324, 338, 340, 341, 351, 398, 427, 430, 432, 510

Hadji Hamet, 427, 428, 430, 432, 435

Hamadi, 80, 87, 89

Hamda-Allahi, 76, 78, 314, 365

Hameit, a sheriff, 104, 135, 140

Hamma Tansa, 392

Hanotaux, Commandant, 228

Haussa, 222, 325, 381, 395, 411, 429, 430, 439, 482

Hoggars, the, 81, 114, 136, 144-146, 231, 244-246

Hombori, 367, 373

Hugo, 282-284, 393

Ibnu, 118, 119

Ibrahim, 155, 161, 397

Ibrahim Bubakar, 342

Ibrahim Galadio, 288, 312-314, 351, 360, 362-367, 371, 372, 382

Idris, 192, 194

Ifoghas, the, 190, 192, 241

Igga, 440, 454, 479, 485

Igharghar, 243

Igwadaren, the, 91, 104, 106, 116-135, 142-145, 148, 209, 217, 240

Ihaggaren, the, 144, 215, 225, 227, 230, 231, 240, 249

Ikum, 440

Ilo, 426, 430, 431, 434-437, 474

Ioraghen, the, 129

Iregnaten, the, 129

Issa, 434

Issa-Ber, 33

Jenné, 52, 73, 96, 352

Jesero, 438

Joffre, Colonel, 33

Joliba or Upper Niger, 5

Jouenne, Dr., 8

Kabara, 81, 83, 90, 91, 93, 102, 121

Kagha, 90, 100, 107, 108, 174

Kaheide, 30

Kale, 392

Kambaris, the, 440

Kandji, 462

Kardieba, 127, 148

Karma, 281, 282, 313, 414

Karu, 251, 257

Kayes, 27, 30, 38, 39, 41, 49, 73, 476, 500

Kebbi, 317, 377, 409, 411, 413, 439

Kel Ahara, the, 238, 240, 241

Kel Air, the, 168, 177, 180

Kel Antassar, the, 33, 103, 118, 125

Kel Avis, the, 192

Kel Es Suk, the, 104, 121, 136, 162, 182-186, 207, 208, 217, 269, 270

Kel Gheres, the, 231, 237, 243, 246, 282

Kel Gossi, the, 100, 101, 107, 241

Kel Kumeden, the, 238, 240, 241

Kel Owi, the, 122, 142, 143

Kel Tedjiuane, the, 238, 240, 241

Kel Temulai, the, 102, 104, 106-110, 114, 173, 209, 375

Kendadji, 265, 438

Kibtachi, 296, 313, 381-384, 403, 405

Kieka-Sanké, 62-64

Kisira, 445

Kita, 9, 50, 51, 54, 408

Koa, 100

Kokoro, 276

Kolikoro, 8, 12, 22, 52-59, 62, 63, 73

Koly Mody, 373

Kompa, 282, 405-408, 411, 417, 420, 424

Kongu, 124

Konnari, 394

Konotasi, 462, 467

Koridjuga, 62

Koriomé, 8, 81

Koyraberos, the, 306, 309, 311, 323, 324, 361, 381, 508

Kpatachi, 462

Kuka, 491

Kunari, 373

Kundji, 438

Kunta, 108

Kuntas, the, 77, 81, 87-91, 100-103, 105, 106, 140, 141, 146, 152, 172, 177

Kurteyes, the, 181, 268, 271, 274, 278, 282, 316, 326, 382, 393, 425, 434, 435

Kutkuole, 282

Kutungu, 265

Labezenga, 193, 252, 257, 260, 261, 264, 370, 406

Lamothe, M. de, 23, 27

Lander, Richard, 472

Lankafu, 438

Laperrine, Captain, 145

Larba, 312

Lat-Dior, 23

Lavigerie, Mgr., 84

Leba, 453, 456, 457, 470, 471, 473, 476

Lefort, Sub-lieutenant, 8

Lemta or Lemtuma, 204, 240

Liptako, 372

Logomaten, the, 218, 242, 252, 270, 312

Lokodja, 344, 473, 475, 479, 480-485, 488

M’Pal, 23

Ma, 55, 56

Mabrok, 90

Madani, 292

Madecali, 420, 423-426, 434

Mademba Seye, 66-69, 71, 73

Madidu, Chief of the Awellimiden, 104-107, 136, 154, 155, 164-168, 170-180, 183, 192, 194-196, 217, 219, 240, 247, 265, 266, 271, 277, 286, 312, 368, 372, 382, 387, 426

Madunia, 102, 112

_Mage, The_, 9, 10, 74

Malet, Sir Edward, 10, 413

Malinke, the, 54

Malo, 277

Mamadu, 97

Mamé, 96, 97, 109, 259, 260, 263, 434

Manambugu, 8, 9, 52

Mandao, Osmane, 17, 26

Marchand, 36, 38

Marka, 274

Massala, 56

Massenya, 1

Massina, 8, 280, 312, 314, 316, 353, 367, 371, 372, 386, 394, 405

Matam, 30

Matar Samba, 87, 95

Mattei, Commandant, 483, 484, 488

Mauri, 313, 377, 413

Maussinissa, 202

Milali, 107

Mizon, 451, 470, 482

Modibo Konna, 394, 396, 397

Mohamed Askia, 165

Mohamed ben Eddain, 208

Mohamed Uld Mbirikat, 118, 121-123, 127, 130, 134, 136, 140

Mohammed ben Abdallah, 88, 201

Mohammed Djebbo, 385

Monteil, Colonel, 6, 7, 11, 17, 285, 360, 412, 413, 421

Mopti, 34, 140, 386, 394, 405

Mores, 474

_Morning Star, The_, 472

Morocco, 144, 204, 208, 209, 216

Mosi, 216

Mossi, 39, 65, 66, 316, 325, 353, 354, 373, 375, 377-379

Mount Davoust, 440

Mount Delagarde, 440

Mount Kolikoro, 56, 57

Mount Tondibi, 163

Moyadikoira, 147

Mumi, 386, 387

Mungo Park, 5, 6, 9, 165, 439, 500

Mussa, 97, 337

Mycenæ, 118

Naba of Wagadugu, 378

Nabi Mussa or Mises, 375

Namantugu Mame, 412

Neschrun, 185, 186

Ngiti-Sokoto, the, 243

Ngouna, 33

Ngubi-Sokoto, the, 437

N’Guna, 103, 105

Niger, the, 2, 5-14, 17, 18, 22, 23, 32, 33, 36-39, 42, 44, 52, 54, 56, 72-74, 78, 82, 84, 94, 96, 99, 101, 105, 116, 128, 129, 142, 146, 152, 157, 160, 163, 165-168, 176, 182, 185, 191, 193, 202, 209, 210, 242, 243, 262, 263, 269, 271, 273, 279, 281, 289, 290, 294, 295, 298, 314, 334, 344, 350, 353, 368, 386, 393, 404, 405-408, 411-415, 421, 440, 453, 458, 460, 464, 470, 472, 477, 483, 488, 492, 493, 495, 498, 499, 504, 507, 508, 510

_Niger, The_, 9, 10, 74

Nigotte, Captain, 218

_Nigritian, The_, 479

Nikki, 474

Nioro, 68, 100, 280, 282, 312, 313, 316

Niugui, 372

Nuhu, 8

Nupé, 477

_Nupé, The_, 490

_Olinda, The_, 495

Onitcha, 490

Osman, 277, 306-308, 325, 327, 353, 368, 376-378, 384-386, 389, 391

Osterman, 59

Othman dan Fodio, 78, 395

Oursi Beli, 243

Patanis, the, 452, 470, 491

Pontoise, 298

Porto Novo, 495

Port Said, 484

Prince de Polignac, 197

Pullo Sidibé or Khalifa, 306-308, 351, 360, 363, 364, 368, 376, 382, 386

Rabba, 378, 476, 477

R’abbas, 109, 112

Raha, 436

R’alif, 109, 112

R’alli, 121-125, 138-140

Regard, Captain, 218

Reichala, daughter of Madidu, 219

Rejou, M., Commandant, 83, 89, 90

_René Caillie, The_, 470

Rhâdames, 197, 244, 505

Rhat, 207, 278

Rhergo, 102, 107, 114, 116, 118, 119

_Ribago, The_, 479, 485, 487, 490

Richardson, 505

Rimaibes, the, 316

R’isa, 237

Rocher, M. Du, 23

Rufisque, 22

Rupia, 440-442, 451

Saga, 283, 328

Sahara, the, 8, 82, 136, 160, 204

Said, 89

St. Louis, 17, 22-27, 39, 67, 281, 352, 496

Sakhaui or Sarrawi, 90, 91, 104, 116, 118, 131, 134, 138, 144, 145

Sakhib, 104, 126-128, 130, 131, 134, 135, 147

Saldé, 30

Salla Uld Kara, 88, 104, 149-155, 161

Samba Demba, 300, 337, 338, 468

Samba Laobé, 23, 319

Samba Sumaré, 123

Samory, 54, 67, 299, 301, 310, 313, 314, 330, 331, 377

Sansanding, 66-69, 72-74, 87

Sansan-Haussa, 191, 278, 306, 377

Saraféré, 78

Sarankeni, 331

Sarayamo, 367

Saredina, 74-76, 140, 141

Sarracolais, the, 27, 28, 96, 274, 300, 316, 496,

Satoni, 269, 270

Sauzereau, 38, 39, 41, 59

Say, 32, 74, 75, 96, 99, 174, 180, 219, 240, 250, 274, 277, 280, 282, 285, 289, 290, 293-297, 299, 300, 306-308, 310-328, 333-335, 337, 347, 351, 352, 356, 358, 363, 365-369, 372, 375-378, 381, 384-390, 397, 405, 406, 413, 422, 437, 439, 474, 476, 479, 499, 508

Seba, 450

Sego, 37, 39, 52, 64, 66, 68, 78, 98, 301, 312, 314

Senegal, the, 4, 6, 7, 17, 27, 44, 66, 97, 274, 280, 316, 317, 334, 381, 482, 496, 504, 507

Senegambia, 23, 24

Senussis, the, 201

Sergoe, 377, 388

Serki Kebbi, 378, 406, 409, 411-413, 421

Sidi Alluata, 79, 80, 100-103, 107

Sidibés, the, 316, 361, 382-384

Sidi el Amin, 146

Sidi Hamet, 89-91, 100, 117, 118, 120-122, 127, 148, 149, 151, 153

Sidi Hamet Beckay, 74-77, 79-81, 88, 101, 105, 121, 129, 140, 141, 146, 153-155, 184

Sidi Moktar, 79, 105

Sidi Okha, 78

Sikasso, 330

Silla, 5

Sillabés, the, 274, 316, 382, 392

Sinder, 180, 207, 218, 266, 269, 272-275, 278, 283, 312, 316

Skobeleff, General, 262

_Sokkoto, The_, 483

Sokoto, 75, 174, 313, 372, 377, 395, 412, 413, 484

Somangoro, 54-57

Songhay, 96, 109, 161, 163-166, 182, 191-194, 202, 208, 209, 216, 217, 274, 306, 309, 312, 316, 324, 325, 351, 354, 430

Soninkés, the, 54-56, 71, 100, 274

Sorbo, 278, 281, 282

Soule, 423-425

Spahis, the, 23, 319

Stanley, 504

Sudan, the, 7, 14, 19, 22, 32, 37, 43, 49, 50, 52, 67-69, 79, 81, 82, 138, 172, 201, 210, 213, 252, 273, 284, 300, 336, 337, 345, 372, 411, 417, 441, 505

_Sudan, The_, 475

Sudan, French, 6, 17, 34, 38, 42, 44, 51, 77, 100, 126, 138, 210, 273, 299, 373, 451, 488, 489, 503

Sudan, Western, 76, 100, 165, 166, 193, 406, 498

Suleyman Foutanke, 280, 281, 290, 323, 352, 357, 381, 399, 400, 416, 430

Suleyman Gundiamu, 41, 95, 286, 287, 292, 329, 331, 373, 397, 430, 483

Sultan of Fez, 208

Sultan of Segu, 37, 314

Sundiata, 47, 54, 56

Surgu, 202

Taburet, Dr., 38, 52, 58, 60, 87, 94, 97, 118, 123, 134, 135, 158, 277, 278, 281, 290, 303, 327, 328, 332, 333, 338, 348, 393, 416-419, 474, 476, 484, 486, 510

Tacubaos, the, 218

Taddemekka, 182, 207

Tademeket, the, 104, 131, 148, 152, 154-158, 160-162, 168, 170, 201, 241, 269

Tahar, 121, 140

Talibia, 296-298, 360, 379, 381, 387, 388

Ta-Masheg or Tamschek, 109, 173, 202, 220, 222, 226, 228, 229, 509

Tankisso, 404

Tarik, 203

Tarka, 203

Tarkai-Tamut, 203

Tayoro, 394-398

Tchad, Lake, 28, 165, 247, 352, 372, 507

Tchakatchi, 438-440, 499

Tedian Diarra, 358

Tenda, 414-416, 420-424, 430, 447

Tenger Eguedeche, the, 162-164, 168, 170

Tenguereguif, the, 173, 209, 218

Thies, 23

Tieba, 330, 331

Tillé, 389

Timbuktu, 7, 8, 32, 33, 41, 69, 73, 75, 78-84, 87-91, 98, 102, 103, 106, 114-120, 122, 126, 129, 130, 134, 136, 138, 142, 148, 245, 273, 279, 288, 309, 331, 335, 344, 351, 352, 368, 369, 427, 473, 495, 498, 499, 507

Tinalschiden, 149

Tintellust, 207

Tioko, 372

Togoland, 428

Tolimandio, 52

Tombuttu, 423, 424

Torodi, 312, 313, 315, 382, 384

Toron, 54

Tosaye or Sala Koira, 88, 89, 104, 128, 131, 148-153, 158, 162, 201, 219

Toucouleurs, the, 3, 8, 41, 62, 63, 66, 67, 73, 75, 76, 79, 105, 129, 130, 140, 152, 209, 218, 271, 279-282, 284, 285, 287-290, 299, 304, 312-314, 360, 382, 384, 386-393, 397, 405, 411, 414, 417, 419, 423

Toutée, Captain, 266, 269, 272, 273, 278, 282, 286, 290, 447, 457, 470

Towdeyni, 83

Trentinian, Colonel de, 34, 38, 138

Tripoli, 216, 505

Tuaregs, the, 8, 18, 33, 37, 65, 75, 78-80, 84, 88, 89, 98, 100, 101, 104, 106, 108, 114, 119-134, 138, 142, 144, 149-178, 182, 189-194, 197, 199-249, 251, 256, 257, 266, 269, 270-273, 275, 283, 307, 312, 315, 351, 368, 372, 379, 383, 388, 394, 397, 434, 470, 505-506, 509

Tuat, 78, 79, 81, 88, 216, 310

Tumaré, 268

Ubangi, the, 11

Uro Galadio, 37

Vermesch, 285

Vinet-Laprade, 24

Wadalen, the, 242

Wagadugu, 373, 375

Wagniaka, 372, 394

Wagobés, the, 269, 270, 272, 274, 316, 377

Walaldé, 30

Wali, 48

Wallace, Mr., 474, 475, 479, 480, 485, 490

Wari, 12, 491-494

Watagunu, 251

Wemé, the, 358

Wolof, 96, 280, 282, 320

Yakare, 71

Yangbassu, 458

Yauri, 377, 439

Yemen, 78

Yoba, 368

Yola, 479, 482

Yuli, 382

Yunes, 104, 156, 219

Yusuf Osman, 281, 282

Zarhoi, 122, 126, 139, 144

* * * * * _Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London & Bungay._

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: A popular French dance.—_Trans._]

[Footnote 2: The translator thinks it best to give the actual words of this celebrated despatch, which caused so much excitement at the time.]

[Footnote 3: A _griot_ is a superior negro, who acts as interpreter, etc.—_Trans._]

[Footnote 4: Bamana Dankun had replied to Monson who had called him, “I will come; when I have finished the sacrifices I am offering, I will come.” Hence the anger of the _Fama_.]

[Footnote 5: I have failed to ascertain the meaning of the word _Jaribata_. The griots sometimes use words in their songs, which the present natives of Bambara do not themselves understand, and which may perhaps be survivals of a now extinct language.]

[Footnote 6: The singular of _Ihaggaren_ is _Ahaggar_, and of _Imrad_, _Amrid_.]

[Footnote 7: It will be understood that the translations in the English text of the free translations of the originals can only give an approximate idea of the poems quoted.—_Trans._]

[Footnote 8: These are the slang names for members of the secret police in France.—_Trans._]

[Footnote 9: I make a special point of the exact situation of Farca. Captain Toutée says in a note to his book on Dahomey, the Niger, and the Tuaregs, that he believed it to be much nearer Timbuktu, but he had not taken any astronomical observations, and he had made a mistake of a day in his journal. This rectification will appear somewhat tardy after the articles published on his return in the newspapers, and in the Bulletin of the _Comité de L’Afrique française_, which led to its being supposed that Farca is on the outskirts of the last French post in the Sudan. Had this been so, the results of our expedition would have been greatly minimized. _Suum cuique._

On the subject of the recognition of the French protectorate by the people of Farca, there must have been, to say the least, a very great error of interpretation. Our readers have been able to discover for themselves that unfortunately French influence does not extend so far. Indeed, the hostile attitude of the people of Sinder, who are the relations and feudal superiors of those of Farca, and who attacked Captain Toutée, would have been enough to prove it without anything else.]

[Footnote 10: The occupation of Say is now an accomplished fact, and Amadu has fled in a north-westerly direction; but the French must be more than ever careful to be on their guard against his forces, aided by those of the Emir of Sokoto. We must be especially on the watch against offensive action on the part of Samory, for does not a certain section of the English press talk of arming and rousing against us that monster in human form who under pretext of a holy war is responsible for the destruction of thousands of his fellow-creatures?]

[Footnote 11: Louis Blanc, ‘Histoire de Dix Ans.’ The sentence quoted is quite untranslatable, but “We don’t care a rap for you,” perhaps fairly represents it.—Trans.]

[Footnote 12: I must add that of the 373 miles of railway that I ask for, 125 are already made, and are in full work, so that the worst difficulties are overcome.]

Transcriber's note:

pg 120 Changed: of the Tauregs to: Tuaregs

pg 121 Changed: letter from Sakhuai to: Sakhaui

pg 200 Changed: the Tauregs alone to: Tuaregs

pg 428 Changed: In is, in fact to: It is

pg 516 Changed: Galan to: Galam

Other spelling inconsistencies have been left unchanged.