CHAPTER IX
FROM SAY TO BUSSA
Below Fort Archinard the river divides into a number of arms; the islands formed by them as well as the banks of the river were deserted, but clothed with lofty trees, such as baobabs, palms, and other tropical growths.
Although the water was now pretty well at its maximum height, a good many scarcely-covered rocks impeded its bed, and rapids were numerous. Of little danger to us, for we had seen worse, and safely passed them, but bad enough to make navigation impossible to a steamer.
On September 16, at about seven o’clock in the morning, we passed a little encampment on the left bank, consisting of one hut, and some millet granaries. I imagine this to have been the landing-place for Kibtachi, for at half-past five in the afternoon we found we had made some forty-four miles since we started, so we must have passed the village without seeing it. I was sorry not to have been able to visit the mines of bracelets and rings, probably of cornelian, of which the natives had told me, but at the same time I did not altogether regret having avoided coming into contact, just before entering Dendi, with tribes then at war with its people.
The next day, the 17th, the river still wound in much the same way as on the 16th; in fact, so serpentine was its course, that one of the coolies cried out he did not believe we were on the Niger still, but that we had lost our way. Numerous islands and dense vegetation, with very picturesque views here and there, were the order of the day. Great blocks of red sandstone rose in some places to a height of from about thirty to more than three hundred feet, and at every bend of the stream some new or strange view met our eyes.
We longed to land and seek repose beneath the thick dome of vegetation forming natural arbours, but there was one great drawback about them, the immense number of insects eager to suck our blood. At night the mosquitoes invaded us in vast hordes, and our poor coolies used to roll themselves up in everything they could lay hands on, at the risk of suffocation. As for us, we too suffered terribly, for though when we were asleep our mosquito nets did to some extent protect us, when we were on watch on deck we were nearly bled to death. In the day these pests left us pretty well unmolested, but their place was taken by other persecutors, rather like gadflies, which were able to pierce through our white clothes with a sting as sharp and nearly as long as a needle. I had suffered terribly once before from these horrible diptera when I was on the Tankisso; in fact they haunt the tropical vegetation of many an African river.
Since we started we had been each day threatened with a tornado, but the storm had not broken after all. On the 18th, however, we came in for the tail of one of these meteorological disturbances, and a pretty strong breeze lasted until eleven o’clock so that we were not able to start before that time.
The appearance of the country now began to change. Yesterday I had been reminded by the rocky islets and the wooded banks, of the Niger near Bamako; to-day the stream flows sluggishly through a low plain covered with woods such as those of Massina between Mopti and Debo. A few rocks still occurred to keep up the character of the scenery, so to speak, and about three o’clock in the afternoon we were opposite the site of the village of Gumba, destroyed the year before by the Toucouleurs. We saw a canoe in which were some fishermen, so we hailed them and they approached us without fear. They were inhabitants of Kompa, they said, come here to fish, and were the first human beings we had seen since we left Say. We had passed not only Kibtachi but Bikini without meeting any one. The result of the constant terrorism caused by slave raids, is that all the villagers remain quietly at home cultivating a few acres only, and living in perpetual fear of being carried away from their huts. They altogether neglect the natural riches of the soil formed by the frequent inundations, which leave new layers of vegetable mould. The baobabs and other wild trees alone profit by it, increasing and multiplying continually.
We soon became capital friends with the people of Kompa. They had heard of our stay at Say, and had impatiently awaited our arrival. Neither were they ignorant of the fact that we had driven the Foutankés from the western Sudan, and they hoped we meant to do the same in Dendi. “Look,” one of the fishermen said to me. “A year ago the whole of this district was dotted with villages, now there is not one left but Kompa, for the Foutanis have destroyed everything.”
The canoe now went to Kompa to announce our arrival, but one of the rowers remained with us to act as our guide. He answered to the name, a tragic one to us, of Labezenga. As we went along he gave me some interesting details about the brother of Serki Kebbi, who was now in Dendi, and had been at Kompa itself for the last few days. He had had a quarrel with his brother, and came to take up his abode on the banks of the Niger, but in spite of the strained relations between them, the two were not exactly at war, and in case of an emergency would act together against the common enemy.
At half-past five we came in sight of a few Fulah huts, which belonged to the abandoned village of Bubodji. The inhabitants had made common cause with Amadu and the people of Say, and gone to join them. The wood of these huts would do nicely to cook our dinner by, so I gave the order for mooring. We steered for the mouth of a little creek, where we could easily land. All of a sudden, however, there was a shout of “Digui! what is that?—we are among the rocks!” In fact, all around us the water was ruffled with those peculiar ripples which I used to call moustaches, and which we knew all too well. A strong current was sweeping along, and we expected every moment that our boats would strike and be staved in. How was it that it did not happen? Digui’s features became of the ashy hue peculiar to negroes when they lose their natural colour; he, too, was evidently alarmed, but all of a sudden he burst out laughing. “Fish! Commandant,” he cried, “fish! nothing but fish!” He was right, the ripples were caused by big fishes, a kind of pike, native to the Niger, swimming against the current after their prey. There were simply hundreds of them.
We tried to avenge ourselves for our fright by doing a little fishing with petards of gun-cotton, but it was no good, the water was too deep, ninety or a hundred feet at least, and we had our trouble and wasted our gun-cotton for nothing.
At ten o’clock on the 19th we went up a little arm of the river, really merely an inundated channel, which brought us near the village of Kompa, and at one o’clock we received a visit from some envoys of the chief, who bid us welcome, and sent us three sheep. These men had not the crafty and false expressions of the people of Say, or of the Fulahs. They were fine-looking fellows, though rather wild, wearing turbans adorned with numerous _grisgris_, or a kind of cap, common on the Niger as far as Bussa, and rather like those worn by the eunuchs in the _Bourgeois Gentilhomme_. I did not conceal from them that we had been badly received at Say, and told them that their enemies the Foutanis were also ours. That broke the ice very satisfactorily, and I arranged to go and see the chief in the afternoon.
I went with Bluzet about four o’clock. We crossed an inundated track, where we took a good many foot-baths in the bogs.
We found Kompa surrounded by a wall and a little moat, a kind of defence we met with in all the villages of these parts, as far as Burgu. Here, however, wall and moat alike were in a bad state of preservation. Two trees served as drawbridge. Inside the _enceinte_ were numerous mud-huts with pointed thatched roofs, reminding us of the homes of the Malinkes at Kita. The chief received us in a big hut with three entrances forming the vestibule of his house.
He was a little old man, half-blind, but with an expression alike benevolent and cunning. All the time he was talking to us he was plaiting straw for mats, and so were the various notables surrounding him. All the men of the country were constantly employed making these mats, and even go on working at them as they walk along, reminding us of the old women at home with their perpetual stocking-knitting. I reminded the chief of the danger his village was in from the Foutanis, and told him that Dendi, Kebbi, and Djerma ought to combine against the invaders; in fact, even pass from the defensive to the offensive. I also asked for guides to take me to the chief of Dendi, to whom I wished to say the same things, and to talk to on other matters, and I begged him to send us as many of his people as he could to be present at our palaver. I also wanted to see the brother of Serki Kebbi.
Everything I asked was promised at once, and we were just about to return to the boats when we were overtaken by the rain. I had had the presents for the chief and his people got ready beforehand, and they were now brought to us. We were allowed to take refuge from the storm in the chief’s private apartments, but they were very soon invaded by a crowd, the people vieing with each other in trying to find something to give us pleasure; one offering a chicken, another some eggs, and so on, every one bringing out some little present, evidently offered with the best intentions.
We, on our part, distributed our merchandise, from which, however, the old chief deducted a tithe. It was a most amusing scene, for he could hardly see in the semi-obscurity of the hut, and so every one tried to slip off with his portion without paying toll, but he took up his position at the door, and all who went out were searched in the style of the Belgian custom-house officers. Then the cunning old fellow, with many a grimace, persuaded the owners to give up part of their riches with an apparently good grace. Sometimes he gave back what he had taken, praising up the beauty and the value of the beads or stuffs he did not fancy, but taking care to hide behind him all he really wanted, nodding his head all the time to emphasize his pretended admiration of the things he let those he had despoiled retain.
We had on board with us a dog and a cat, which, after a long series of hostilities, had ended by becoming the best friends in the world. But when the cat had managed to run off with a bit of meat, it was worth something to see the advances made to him by his friend the dog, who was bent on taking it away. The cat would begin by putting his paw on the meat, looking angry and showing his claws. The dog would then assume a plaintive air, giving vent to low moans of assumed distress, and advancing gradually upon the cat, who was watching his every movement, would at last completely hypnotize him. This done, he would pounce with a yelp upon the coveted morsel and dash off with it. He was just like the chief of Kompa.
The rain over, we returned on board, followed by an immense number of our new friends. The nephew of the chief of Tendu—who, I was told, was really paramount throughout Dendi—accompanied us, as well as the chief of the captives of the chief of Kompa. The last-named carried a gun, the only one in the village, of which he was very proud, but the hammer having long since been destroyed, the charge had to be set fire to with a wick. The owner of this gun pointed out the spot from which, aided by Ibrahim Galadio, the Toucouleurs had attacked Kompa. He also showed me a big shield of ox-hide, behind which the besieged had tried to take shelter, and which was riddled by the Toucouleur bullets. In spite, however, of the superiority of their weapons, the Foutanis had been driven back with great slaughter, a fact very creditable to the courage of the people of Dendi. It will, in my opinion, be with the aid of this race, little civilized, it is true, but not yet infected with the intolerance and fanaticism of the Mussulmans, that we shall be able to pacify the valley of the Niger by driving away the Toucouleurs first, as with the help of the Bambaras we have restored tranquillity in the French Sudan.
On the 20th we went on to Goruberi, where lives the brother of Serki Kebbi. We cast anchor some little distance from the village, at the entrance to a creek too narrow for our boats to go up, and the chief came to visit us.
He was a tall, strong-looking young fellow, and would have been handsome but for being disfigured, as is the horrible custom amongst the Haussas of Kebbi, with deep scars from the temples to the chin, long incisions having been made in his face with a sharp knife when he was a child.
I at once began to talk about the intentions of his brother, and to preach the crusade I never cease to urge against the Toucouleurs and the people of Sokoto. The answer in this case pleased me particularly. His brother, said the chief, was suspicious of him, charging him with an ambition that he did not entertain. They had been obliged to part, and he for his part had come to live at Gorubi. They were not, however, enemies, and if Serki were to send for him to-morrow, he should start at once to join him. He could promise me that he would repeat all I said to his brother.
We then talked about the Monteil expedition, and dwelt on the troubles its leader encountered at Argungu before he had succeeded in making a treaty with Kebbi. He was very well remembered, and Serki must have been the child whose terrible wound he had cured, and whose death afterwards had been falsely reported to him. Another untrue piece of news had been given to him at Burnu, for Agungu had not been taken, but had repulsed his enemies with very great loss to them. Namantugu Mame, the brother of Ibrahim, alluded to by Monteil in his narrative, was, however, killed in the fight. My visitor assured me once more that Kebbi considered himself the ally of the French, and would be very happy to see the fellow-countrymen of one who had left such pleasant memories behind him.
I must pause a moment here to dwell on this important fact, which justifies our resistance of English greed. No one could possibly deny that the French were guilty of a great piece of stupidity when they accepted the convention of 1890. Above their last factory on the Lower Niger the English had no better-founded pretensions than we to the protectorate of the natives peopling a problematical Hinterland. But however that may be, the thing is done now. Yet once again our geographical incapacity, our interference in African affairs, has permitted our rivals to mock us with assertions which a little less ignorance on our part would have enabled us to refute.
Sir Edward Malet spoke of the Falls of Burrum; it would have been quite enough to open Barth’s narrative to answer that these Falls were non-existent. Reading the narrative of the German traveller might also have taught us that when he passed through, _a descendant of the ancient chiefs of the country was maintaining an independent position in Argungu_, and the account of his perilous journey from Sokoto to the banks of the Niger would have shown how very precarious was the influence exercised by the Emir of Sokoto on the countries through which he passed. Since 1890, when the Anglo-Franco treaty was signed, that authority has continued to decrease. Kebbi, Mauri, Djerma, and Dendi would very soon have got the better of their oppressors if they had always worked together. However that may be, they have at least now regained independence, and we French are the only European people who have made any conventions with them. Strickly speaking, the treaty signed by Monteil with Kebbi would be enough.
It is therefore no longer at Say, as the English pretend, that the limit of French influence is reached. The line of demarcation, according to the spirit as well as the letter of the treaty of 1890, ought to leave us the four provinces I have just named. We are again about to abandon our rights won at the price of so much trouble and fatigue. Better still, are we going to leave Sokoto (strong through the weapons supplied by the English), after spreading fire and destruction everywhere, to reduce to captivity and slavery the peaceful but courageous swarms of population, capable as those populations are of achieving prosperity under the paternal authority of the French, so different from the commercial control aimed at by our rivals?
Lord Salisbury, in the English Parliament, said scoffingly that they had left nothing for the Gallic cock to do but to scratch up the sand. Let us at least reclaim that sand, and if we can find a little corner of fertile land which the diplomacy of that time forgot to abandon, shall we let the diplomacy of to-day generously hand that also over to our neighbours? Or will our diplomatists, eager to avenge the insult put upon us, reply, “You deceived us by false affirmations, we were stupid enough to have confidence enough in your good faith without any preliminaries to assure us of it, we are willing to bear with the results of our own simplicity, but it has been a good lesson, and we forbid you to attempt to give us another like it”?
I remember an Arab saying, which well applies to the circumstances under discussion: “If my enemy deceives me once, may God curse him; if he deceives me twice, may God curse us both; but if he deceives me three times, may God curse me only.”
After having chatted for a few hours with the notables of Goruberi, distributed some presents, and hoisted a flag, we went to pass the night opposite Karimama or Karma, a very strong and densely-populated village which is at war with the rest of Dendi. It was the people of this place, who, by calling in the Toucouleurs, had caused all the misery, which had lasted more than a year, to the natives of the banks of the Niger in Dendi. The brother of the chief of Tenda advised me to bombard Karma, and but for the pacific character of my expedition, which I was so extremely anxious to maintain, I would willingly have adopted his suggestion. I contented myself, however, with having nothing to do with the renegades, and we passed the night opposite their village on the left bank.
A tornado delayed our start the next day for the little village which is the landing-place for Tenda. At ten o’clock, however, we anchored at the foot of a rock covered with luxuriant vegetation, which hung over the boats, forming a kind of canopy of verdure. This is one of the most picturesque parts of the whole course of the Niger, and the magnificent trees are tenanted by hundreds of birds, whilst on the ground beneath are great flat spaces, very tempting to those who want a suitable place to encamp. In a moment the banks were alive with joyful activity, for our coolies hastened to land, and very soon the thin columns of smoke from our fires were rising up here and there, as preparations were made for cooking a meal. The men washed their clothes here amongst the rocks. A market, too, was soon in full swing, where onions, potatoes, and _kous_ (large edible roots), chickens and eggs, were sold to us by native women. Our guide and the nephew of the chief of Tenda meanwhile went to a big village further inland, and about two o’clock returned, accompanied by the son of its chief, who sent us word that he was too old to come and see us by the bad roads between his home and our camp, but his son would represent him, unless, indeed, we ourselves would visit him. We did not see why we should not, so I started with Taburet, Suleyman, Tierno, and Mamé.
The chief was quite right about the road. It certainly was not good, for it led us, to begin with, across an inundated plain, where we were up to our knees in water for about a mile. It was also oppressively hot, and the upper part of our bodies was as wet with perspiration as our legs were with the mud of the marsh. It was with a sigh of relief that we came to the rising ground where the road was better, except for the steep and rough bit strewn with sharp flints. We had this kind of thing for some four miles, and Taburet, who was toiling along beside me, became the colour of a ripe cherry. Was this colour a favourite one in these parts, I wondered? Anyhow our doctor made a deep impression on the heart of one of the beauties of Tenda, who had come to see us in our boats, and walked with us to the chief’s village. It was a regular case of love at first sight, for she never took her eyes off Taburet, offering him flowers and pea-nuts, and moving the flints out of his way. It was a real idyll. I felt pretty sure of the doctor’s power of resisting the blandishments of the syren, but still I thought it was as well to remind him of the negro eunuchs, who, if he did lapse from virtue, would be pretty sure to sew him up in an ox-hide, and fling him into what answered here to the Bosphorus. We arrived at Tenda laughing merrily, in spite of the condition of our socks and boots, which, soaked through and swollen as they were with the water we had shipped _en route_, hurt our feet dreadfully.
We had already been told that this village was the capital of Dendi, but for all that its appearance greatly surprised us, for it is surrounded with a _tata_ nearly seven feet high, and at its base is a moat no less than nine feet deep by four, twelve to fifteen feet wide. Throughout the Sudan I had never seen any fortification to equal it in the mass of material used. It is in an excellent state of preservation, and the crest of the wall is covered with sharp thorns, forming a regular _chevaux de frise_. It would be very difficult to take the place even with artillery. I was delighted to see so formidable a stronghold in these parts, and should the Toucouleurs who took Kompa try their skill on it, they will have their hands pretty full.
The whole population came out to meet us, and when we entered the village we found it had quite wide streets, which would have been clean but for the tornado of the morning, which had filled them with horrible mud. Splashed with dirt, like water-spaniels on their return from a shooting expedition in the marshes, we were introduced into an immense circular room, with a platform of earth at one end, forming the audience chamber of the chief. On the royal throne, or rather bench which represented it, was flung one of those horrible carpets such as are sold in bazaars, representing a fierce-looking tiger springing forward on a ground of a crude red colour, giving a note of civilization, if of rather a comic kind, to the whole apartment.
The chief now appeared, and turned out to be a very old but still vigorous man. Instead of a sceptre, he carried a cane encased in copper, and on the forefinger of the right hand he wore a ring, the stone of which consisted of a silver disk nearly six inches in diameter, quite hiding his hand. He sat solemnly down upon the carpet with the tiger; and our beauty of the road, who, it turned out, was his own daughter, took her place beside him, never ceasing to cast languishing glances at Taburet throughout the interview. I now spread out the presents I had brought, and set going a little musical-box. The sound from the latter caused such an excitement that the crowd outside managed to get into the audience hall, in spite of all the efforts of the guard, who plied their whips vigorously, even on the shoulders of the most beautiful of the besiegers. There was such a noise that I had to shout at the top of my voice in telling the chief our business; but it was all no use, I might as well have tried to play the flute beside a sledge-hammer in full swing.
The chief, perceiving that conversation was impossible, made me a sign to follow him, and we withdrew for our palaver to a court-yard surrounded with walls, a kind of stable where his horse was tied up. He shut the door behind him, but in an instant the walls were scaled, and there was as much noise and confusion as there had been before.
The chief then led me to a kind of store-room with a very narrow door, through which only one person could pass at a time, and that almost crawling on hands and knees. We filed in much as Esquimaux do into their snow-huts, and this time we were really free from intruders.
Yes, from intruders! but we were not safe from suffocation. The moment we were in our retreat, such a mass of women pressed up to the door, forming a kind of plug of human flesh, that we found ourselves gasping for breath and turning purple. We literally had to force our way out with our fists to get fresh air, and to drag the poor chief, who was already nearly insensible, out after us. He now declared that it was quite impossible to have a quiet talk with me in his village, but that if I would put off my start, he would come and see me on board the next day.
Meanwhile two horses had been brought out for us; we now mounted them and started for our camp. Unfortunately Arab saddles are rather hard. Moreover, mine had stirrups suitable only for the bare feet of the natives, and much too small for my shoes, so that I had to ride in a very uncomfortable position. Then once Taburet’s steed slipped into a hole, and the doctor took an involuntary bath, a complete one this time.
We still had twenty rifles and six pistols for presents to chiefs. Acting on my idea of trying to make Dendi rise as one man against the Toucouleurs, I resolved to give all these weapons to one person. The question was, who should that person be? I cross-examined our guide, the chief of the captives of Kompa, and by the exercise of a really marvellous amount of diplomacy, I managed to get a very true notion of the exact political condition of Dendi, discovering that there were two capitals, that is to say, two villages big enough and densely enough populated to dominate all the others. These two were Tenda, which I had just seen, and Madecali lower down-stream on the right bank.
The more powerful and therefore the one to which the term “capital” could be more justly applied, was perhaps Madecali. For all that, however, I decided on choosing Tenda, which was more exposed to the depredations of the Toucouleurs than Madecali, the latter being in a more sheltered position, and moreover at war already with Burgu. So Tenda got the weapons, and we passed the evening in getting out the boxes of grape-shot for the machine-gun, which, when taken to pieces, provided us both with powder and bullets for our friends.
Faithful to his promise, the chief came to see us the next day. He came down the rocks overlooking our camp to the sound of his war-drums, made of calabashes with skin stretched across them. His suite consisted of some thirty mounted men, and about one hundred foot-soldiers. There was a certain barbaric splendour about the equipment of the former which was far from displeasing, and the saddle of the chief’s son, covered with the skin of a panther, was really both handsome and curious.
I had had strong ropes fixed round the camp, and posted numerous sentinels to keep back the crowd. Thanks to these precautions, we were at last able to have a talk without being suffocated.
My aim here, as it had been at Kompa and Goruberi, was to bring about a friendly league between all the tribes which had anything to dread from the Toucouleurs, and to induce those tribes to give up the defensive to assume the offensive. I concluded my speech by giving the chief the twenty rifles and the six pistols, with powder, bullets, and matchlock-flints, but I made one condition before parting with them, namely, that the weapons should never be separated; they were to arm the twenty-six bravest warriors of Dendi, who were to go to defend any village threatened by the common enemy. All I required was promised, the chief and notables alike declaring that they accepted my conditions. I don’t know whether they will keep their word, anyhow I have done my best.
An envoy from Djermakoy now came to visit us. He had come, he told us, to buy a horse at Tenda to give to Serki Kebbi on behalf of his master, for in Africa if you want anything you must never go to ask it empty-handed. He was to try and persuade the chief of Argungu to help Djerma, especially Dentchendu, against the Toucouleurs. I gave him a black and white banner for Serki, with instructions to tell him to accede to the request of Djermakoy for the sake of the good relations he had formerly been on with Monteil, as well as in his own interests. He could not fail to understand that if the Toucouleurs got the better of Djerma, they would attack him at Kebbi directly afterwards.
Baudry tried to persuade me to leave him at Tenda. He was bent on preaching a crusade against the Toucouleurs, for we were all very bitter against that infamous tribe of robbers and traders in human flesh, who after laying waste the Sudan, had, under pretext of a holy war, brought desolation, famine, slavery, and death to the peaceful if somewhat degraded races of the Niger basin.
I myself shared the sentiments which actuated Baudry, and could I have been sure that when I got to the coast I should be allowed to return with a sufficient force to back up our friends of Dendi effectually, I am not at all sure but that I should have granted his request.
Unfortunately, however, I knew only too well that in such cases as this, it is no good counting on anything, so I very reluctantly said no to my brave comrade.
If, however, we had not been obliged to stop at Say, because the authorities pretended they were going to send us instructions from France; if we had been allowed to winter in Dendi, I can confidently assert that the state of things there would have been completely changed. But it is too late now, and regrets are unavailing. All we can hope is that our example may be a lesson to travellers who come after us.
At ten o’clock we left our moorings at Tenda, and went to anchor opposite a little Fulah village, situated on an island a short distance above Gagno. We hoped to get some milk here, for we had had none for several days. At first the Fulahs ran away and hid themselves in the bush, to return timidly later. A few presents reassured them, and they became too friendly, begging with horrible persistency. Our hope of getting milk too was doomed to disappointment, for one small calabash of it, already turned sour, was all the natives would sell us.
A terrible tornado from the south-east, accompanied by heavy rain, overtook us that night. The bank scarcely protected us, and the surging water of the river made our boats roll in a very unpleasant, even dangerous, manner, for the prows of the barges were banged against the shore. Since we left Say the weather had been very unsettled, and the nearer we approached the equator the worse it got. Until we reached the coast we must expect rain every day now, and the state of exhaustion, even of sickness, of our men can be imagined, soaked to the skin every night as they were, in spite of the tarpaulins we stretched from one deck to the other in the hope of sheltering them from the wet.
At eleven o’clock the next morning we arrived opposite Madecali, the second capital of Dendi, to which a little creek gives access, but some fifty-four yards up it our progress was arrested by shallows. Our guide went to the village, and soon returned with the news that the chief, Soulé by name, was coming. First came a canoe containing our envoy, then Soulé himself. A palaver of the usual kind ensued, but it did not seem likely to be as successful as usual in Dendi, for the attitude of the natives towards us was cold. There were some hundred warriors with Soulé all armed to the teeth, a proof that they did not feel very sure of our peaceable intentions. Truth to tell, there was nothing to be surprised at in the want of cordiality of the welcome we received. To take the bull by the horns, I myself confessed that I gave all the weapons I had left to the chief of Tenda, and explained the reasons for what I had done. Soulé replied that in so doing I had earned the gratitude of all Dendi, but for all that it was evident and very natural too, that he felt some little jealousy. Moreover, the people here did not hate the Toucouleurs, which was so much against us, for it was this hatred which had won us friendship at Tenda. As I have already said, Madecali had not suffered either directly or indirectly from their attacks, and it was with Burgu that its inhabitants were at war. Moreover, there was the memory of the Tombuttu affair, which took place a year before, and was thus related to me.
The people of Dendi had been very far from pleased at the Baud-Decœur expedition going to Say, and when our fellow-countrymen started to return to the coast, by way of the banks of the river, the general opinion was that they ought to be attacked. Fortunately the elders of the various communities were too prudent to sanction this, and their counsels succeeded in curbing the impatience of the hotheaded, but at Tombutu the chief had just died, and the young warriors, deprived of his advice when it was most needed, did fall upon the French, getting the worst of it.
Though Madecali had really had nothing to do with the skirmish its people were afraid of our vengeance, or at least of a demand from us for compensation, and the first question Soulé put to me was, “Are you the same Frenchmen as came here last year?”
I had been promised a guide, but he did not appear, and our palaver grew more and more constrained. I had begun by a distribution of presents, and Soulé had already received a velvet burnous, a red _bubu_, and two pieces of Guinea cloth, to distribute among the notables of his village, but I now stopped my largesse, declaring that the other presents were at the bottom of the hold: we must be quiet if we were to get them out, and it was impossible to do so with such a crowd about us. They should be handed over, I added, to an accredited messenger from the chief, whom he would be good enough to send with the promised guide.
Tableau! Soulé, who from the specimens he had seen of them, knew that our goods were just what he wanted, was eager for more of them. He replied that he had no one he could send for the rest of the presents, to which I retaliated that I had said my last word.
To change the subject, the chief now asked me if I would not have my guns fired off in his honour, as I had in that of the chiefs of Kompa, Goruberi, and Tenda, so that his wives left behind in the village might hear them. I saw no reason why I should say no, so I had ten rounds fired from an 86-pounder at once, which the old fellow did not seem to like much. I followed this up with a round from the machine gun, and he evidently wished himself anywhere else. I completed the sensation by showing off what I could do with my revolver, and this completely finished him off. It was too much for his courage; he named a man to act as guide at once, and made a rapid exit from the camp.
We also got rid of the crowd, but for five or six men, who, not being able to get a place in any canoes, waited in the hope that we would take them on with us.
As I had promised, so would I perform. I had my guide, and Soulé should have his presents. In his haste to be gone he had forgotten to allude to them again, for all that I gave the first messenger who had arrived, the _avant-courier_ of his Majesty, a very fine present to take to his master, including a little musical-box, the effect of which was tremendous. I then showed off a larger one, the little organ, and the phonograph. The last-named produced a profound sensation, so that we ended by getting on to quite good terms with the natives of Madecali.
Our guide did not belong to the village. He was a Kurteye who had settled near Soulé fifteen years before. He told me that when first his fellow-countrymen came from the West, they had thought of stopping near Bussa, but that the natives already occupying the district had prevented them, so then they went up beyond Say, where at last they found a refuge.
“A year ago,” he added, “Madecali had been at war with Gomba and also with Ilo, a big village with an important market, which we should come to lower down. Peace was however now restored, and at Ilo I should easily find guides to take me down to Bussa, the chief of which is a friend of Soulé’s. Moreover, he would himself look out for pilots for me. So many words, so many lies, I soon discovered, but for the moment we took them all for Gospel truth, and were delighted at the thought of no longer having the prospect of perpetual palavers in each village before we could get guides.
Our visitor also bragged a great deal about the people of Madecali, how they were not afraid of the Foutanis; in fact, they were not afraid of anybody except perhaps Alim Sar. I made him repeat the name, and found he meant the former Amenokal of the Awellimiden, and I noted the fact as confirming my opinion of the importance of that confederation, that the name of the former chief was synonymous with power and strength. No one seemed to know that he was dead, and had been succeeded by Madidu.
All night we heard the tam-tam beating in the village, to celebrate our generosity, I expect; and early in the morning we started for Ilo, or rather for Girris, for Ilo is inland and Girris is its port.
We arrived there at ten o’clock. We did not know which of the numerous channels to take, but a canoe came up in the nick of time to direct us, and we anchored close to the village.
There were a good many boats near us, larger and better than any we had hitherto seen. The whole population rushed out to the bank to receive us, and gave us a hearty welcome. It was here that the agent who collects custom dues for the chief of Girris came on board and greeted us on behalf of his master. I asked for a guide to be sent to us that evening, so that we might go on again early the next morning. The chief, however, begged us to wait, so that he might come and see us. We also received the so-called queens, who had their heads completely shaved, and their faces covered with scars, such as the women of the country consider ornamental. They were two wicked-looking little creatures, but they brought us native fruits, including those called papaws and _kus_.
Two more interesting visitors were Hadji Hamet and his brother; the former had acted as guide to Baud, who spoke very highly of his fidelity until the day when, hearing that his French friend was going to join Commandant Decœur, he disappeared without warning. He was probably compromised in the Timbuktu affair mentioned above.
Hadji Hamet and Father Hacquart discovered that they were old acquaintances, having both been at Tunis at the same time.
The life these Hadjis, or pretended Hadjis, lead is really a very strange one. They are Arabs, often, however, of mixed blood, who traverse vast distances in Africa, selling amulets and insinuating themselves into the favour of the chiefs, never leaving a village till some specially heinous offence has roused the wrath of the natives against them.
They succeed everywhere in virtue of their own superior intelligence and the superstitious dread they inspire, in making a position for themselves, especially in heathen districts. It is necessary for travellers to be on their guard against them, the more so that as a rule they are very taking to Europeans, because of the sympathy they always express with their aims. It is, in fact, a pleasure to exchange ideas with them, and they converse in an intelligent manner, such as is quite impossible to negroes. They have also seen and heard so much in their travels that the information they are able to give is very valuable, but they are regular rascals for all that, ready to betray all who confide in them. In spite of all his protestations of friendship, I am convinced that Hadji Hamet had a good deal to do with the change of tone towards us which took place at Ilo a few days later, the results of which I shall relate below.
Here too we made the acquaintance of a certain Issa, who had acted as guide to Dr. Grunner and a German expedition as far as Gando the previous year.
Issa was a good, honest fellow, still young, with a frank, intelligent expression of countenance. At sunset I went with him to the village, which consisted chiefly of huts with walls of beaten earth and thatched roofs.
Issa’s own home was almost European in size and style. It had a regular gabled roof, the first I had seen properly constructed, and there were four good rooms inside. In that which served as an entrance-hall, Issa showed me a folding-table and a canteen marked S, both presents from the German expedition.
The information he gave me without any pressing about that expedition was of the highest importance, for, according to him, all that Dr. Grunner went to Gando for was to ask the Emir to direct the merchants of caravans who left districts under his command to go to Togoland. It will readily be seen how very different the purely commercial aim of this expedition was to that attributed to it, the establishment of a protectorate in Gando.
The people of Girris have polite and gentle manners. Neither the men, the women, nor the children showed any of the unreasonable terror of white men usual amongst negroes, and so painful to Europeans, accustomed to countries where there is nothing of the kind.
At daybreak the next morning the children of the place came with the little spades used in the district, to clear a great space of grass near to our anchorage, in preparation for the chief’s visit to us. On our side we got ready for his reception by pitching the big tent and hoisting our flag beside it. I also made the coolies rig themselves out in their best clothes.
At eight o’clock a deafening noise announced the approach of the chief, and the procession very soon came in sight. It was headed by a number of children armed with bows and arrows, followed by mounted men with tambourines, which the riders struck perpetually with little bent rods.
At last came his Majesty himself, surrounded by a number of his wives, horrible-looking women, whose style I have already described, whilst beside him was his prime minister, if I may use such an expression, or, to give the Haussa term, his _ghaladima_, whose chief occupation in the palace was to shampoo his master’s feet.
Behind came crowds of men putting out all the strength of their lungs as they blew large horns, not unlike those used in Europe by the drivers of stage coaches, making a perfectly deafening din. These horns or trumpets, which must have been much the same as those that brought down the walls of Jericho, had caused the awful noise we had been disturbed by in the early morning.
The orchestra was completed by a number of heterogeneous instruments, the description of which would require a whole chapter, and the row they made really included, I do believe, every possible sound which could be produced by beating, clapping, and squeezing.
The chief wore a _bubu_ with silver stripes, of a pretty good material, a present, I was told, from the Germans. His breeches were made of strips of velvet of different colours; he had on the red boots I had sent to him the evening before, and round a somewhat greasy fez was twisted a coral-coloured silk turban. Lastly, a tricolour sash worn across the shoulders over the half-open _bubu_ resembled the grand cordon of some order, or the scarf of a deputy, showing up well against the black skin of his Majesty’s chest.
What an ugly, stunted, little fellow he was with it all! He reminded me of a monkey, or of some freak of nature such as is exhibited in circuses and at fairs. His intelligence too was probably on a par with theirs.
Fifty mounted men on fine horses with handsome saddles formed the chief’s escort. When they arrived they all leaped with more or less agility to the ground. The chief took his place on the throne, that is to say, on Father Hacquart’s folding-chair; his ghaladima crouched at his feet on one side, and Hadji Hamet on the other. We took up our position on benches opposite to our visitor, and the salutations began. With the combined aid of the Father and Hadji Hamet we exchanged many flowery compliments. We had not had a regular interpreter with us since we left Tenda, and now we conversed partly in Burgu and partly in Haussa, for the Fulah spoken by Suleyman and the Songhay of Mamé were rarely understood in these parts. I slipped in a request for a guide, and was told one would be with me that very evening. Noting the magnificence displayed by the chief of Ilo, I thought I had better give him and his suite handsomer presents than those I had originally intended for him. I was extremely anxious to get a guide to take us to Bussa, for the river was now at its height, and there was not a moment to lose if we wished to pass the rapids under the most favourable conditions. Moreover, I had been told that the chiefs of Ilo and Bussa were relations, so that I hoped the pilots given to me by the first would aid me in getting guides more easily from the latter.
Whilst I was holding forth to this effect a terrible noise began again, for at a sign from the chief the twelve trumpeters approached him, and with all their strength blew a tremendous blast almost into his ears, the instruments all but touching him. This, it appeared, was done to drive away evil spirits. The very angel of the last judgment would not be able to make himself heard if he endeavoured to sound his trump here. Adieu to all discussion now!
The old chimpanzee, for such he really seemed, did however manage, through the intermediary of Hadji Hamet, to let us know that he was thirsty. A glass of _eau sucrée_ with an extra supply of sugar only drew from him a grimace of dissatisfaction. He wanted something very different, and Hadji Hamet put out all his eloquence to make Father Hacquart understand what sort of drink it was the chief was craving for. The Father did not at first understand, but presently clapping his hand on his forehead, he exclaimed, “He wants some champagne! Impossible! he cannot know what it is, but he is certainly asking for a drink that goes pop and fizzes. It is very evident that he does mean champagne!”
So we actually drank champagne in N. Lat. 11° 39′, with a negro potentate resembling a monkey. Fortunately for our credit we had brought with us, not as a beverage, but as a medicine, two cases of wine manufactured at Rheims. As none of us had had the bilious attacks which this wine was intended to correct, the cases were still pretty well intact. We reflected that we were now near our journey’s end, and therefore decided to spare from our pharmacy a few bottles of the precious liquid, which we hoped would not be found inferior to that of our predecessors, whoever they might be, who had given his Majesty of Ilo a taste for the wine which goes pop!
The arrival of our flasks of champagne was the signal for a regular carousal. From every side large jars of millet beer were brought by the assembled crowds, and all present began plunging little calabashes, which served as drinking cups, into them. In half-an-hour the chief, his court, and all the men and women who had flocked together, even the children, were tipsy.
Needless to add that we had to put off all hope of making serious arrangements until later. When the time came to go, it was all his people could do to get the chief on to his steed. His suite were all probably as unsteady as himself. At last by hook or by crook our visitors decided to take their leave, and reeled away, many of the women often stumbling or falling, not making quite as much noise as on their arrival in the morning, for the trumpeters were now unable to blow a blast on their instruments.
We waited all the afternoon in vain for the arrival of the guide. At last, about half-past five, an envoy from the chief appeared. He informed us that it was five years since the latter had sent a present to his relation at Bussa. It would not therefore be fitting for him to have us guided into that relative’s district without supporting the demand for our reception with the customary gift. He could not send that gift, so his guide was to take us to Gomba only.
Was I going to be cheated by the old rogue after all? Should we have to go on like this from village to village till we reached Bussa, to the detriment not only of our merchandise, which would quickly be exhausted at this rate, but to the great loss of time, which was even more valuable? If the river fell suddenly—and I know that changes of level are very sudden in these parts—we might be stopped and compelled to remain stationary again above Bussa.
I sent the messenger back in double quick time, charging him to tell his master I would have all or nothing. He must either keep the promise he had made in the morning, or I should do without him altogether and start at daybreak alone, trusting to the aid of the God who had brought us thus far and was not likely to abandon us by the way now.
Many of those standing by looked approval of the tone I had adopted, including Issa, the Kurteye guide from Madecali, and the agent himself.
Then, seeing that half the people were intoxicated, not knowing what was at the bottom of the delays, with the very evident feeling against us, and to avoid all risk of a night attack, I had the barges moved some hundred yards off into the submerged grass, as I used to do in the old days amongst the Tuaregs. I ordered a strict watch to be kept, and we settled down to pass the night as best we could.
This simple manœuvre, which was carried out with very little noise, had the effect of filling the soddened brains of the natives with terror.
First came a messenger to tell me that the agent himself would act as guide to Bussa, then about midnight I was awoke by a great noise. What could it mean? It was the chief himself, who, in a great state of alarm, had hastened back from Ilo on purpose to see me. No doubt, when the vapours of the champagne had been dissipated, he had been told of my vexation, and trembling with fear lest my move should mean a declaration of war, he had hastened to me, this time without any attendants, to endeavour to pacify me. I sent Mamé, and the poor chief asked him to beg, pray, and entreat me on his behalf to remain until the middle of the next day. He would then be able to get together a present for his relation at Bussa. If only I would wait he would be profoundly and eternally grateful.
To add to the confusion and misery of the suppliant, the rain now began to pour down. I assured my visitor that it was quite usual for us to move, in case of storms, and that I had had the barges moved away from the banks lest the wind should drive them against them. In fact, I said we did this pretty well every night, but it was just all I could do to reassure the chief and his people. I could not help thinking that the scene was very like what one sees in the lunatic asylum at Charenton, and instead of a naval officer, I ought to have chosen a doctor accustomed to treat the insane, as ambassador to Ilo. He would certainly have looked upon the chief as a dipsomaniac whose case was rather an uncommon one. I was the less interested, however, as it would be my turn to keep watch from two to five o’clock, and I wanted to go to my cabin and have a sleep, especially as the rain was heavy and cold, penetrating to the very bones. In the end it was settled that I was to have the guide the very first thing the next morning. Would the promise be kept this time?
No! not even now. It was evidently decreed that we were not to have a guide. In the morning a man appeared in a canoe who pretended that he was to go with us, and my hopes revived. But he had to wait for a companion who did not turn up, and presently he disappeared himself. At five o’clock, for the tenth and last time, I demanded the fulfilment of the promise made to me, our Kurteye going ashore with my message. “Listen to me,” he said; “I am sick of talking to these drunkards, I declare I can do absolutely nothing with them; and I want you to let me go.” I gave him leave, and we all set to work to drive the people of Girris off the boats, for they were doing a brisk trade in provisions, as if nothing unusual was going on and were in no hurry to go.
“Push off!” I cried at last, this time in earnest, and my only regret was that I had yielded the evening before. The first thing in the morning we resumed our voyage without a guide. What could be the reason for the way we were treated? Did the natives want to make us remain as long as possible for the sake of our presents, and of the purchases we made? Or was it the two Mussulmans, especially Hadji Hamet, who seems to have been guilty of double dealing with the Decœur expedition, to whom we owed the change which had come over the sentiments of the natives towards us?
Later, I learnt that one of my predecessors had had a quarrel with the natives of Ilo, about an ox which had been promised to him, and which, like my guide, never turned up. Perhaps he had not been as patient as he might have been under the circumstances, if he had remembered the interests of those to come after him.
So we started after all without a pilot and passed many villages, the names of which I do not know. The inundated banks were flat and grass-grown, with clumps of trees here and there. We cast anchor in the evening off the left bank, opposite the Fulah village of Raha, a dependency of Gomba.
As we were at dinner we were hailed from a canoe by an old Fulah, answering to the name of Amadu, who offered us five chickens as a present. We circumvented him cleverly. He said he knew the river well down to Bussa, in fact as far as Iggu, where he had been. I proposed that he should act as our guide and introduce us to the chief of Bussa, who he said was a great friend of his. To my delight he actually agreed!
During the whole of the 28th we went rapidly down the wide river, here unencumbered with obstacles, as fast as ever we could row.
About nine o’clock we passed Gomba, inhabited by Fulahs, and the capital of the district. Our guide Amadu evidently thought we should stop there to see the chief, and showed great surprise at our pressing on without a halt. To his discreet suggestions I turned a deaf ear, and our interpreter seemed suddenly to have forgotten all the Fulah language he knew. In the end our guide resigned himself to the inevitable.
We had to make haste, for, reflecting on the causes of the check we had received at Ilo, I was led to think that the English might have had something to do with it, or, at least, that people who had been amongst them—for the English themselves have no political influence in these parts—had had intelligence enough to understand and look after their interests. In the suite of the chief there was a native of Bidda, who asked me to let him accompany me back to his native place, but he too disappeared. In any case, however, as Amadu told me, the news of our stay at Say had not yet reached Gomba, still less Bussa, we might still, by pushing on rapidly, circumvent the plans of those who were anxious to make mischief. Forward then as rapidly as possible!
We soon passed the mouth of the Ngubi-Sokoto, of anything but imposing appearance, but, as we were told, navigable at high water for canoes until nearly up to the village from which it takes its name. In the evening we had made more than 32 miles, the longest distance achieved yet by the expedition in one day. We anchored a little beyond Lanfaku.
Here we were visited by two parties of fishermen, who came to us in canoes from the villages, such as are scattered about near all important Fulah centres of population. The young men had their heads shaved, but for a kind of tuft of hair left on the middle of the upper part of the head, which was really not at all unbecoming. Amadu told me that the Grunner expedition had been attacked on its return from Gando at the village of Gesero, which was at war with Gando. The inhabitants had tried to stop the guides of the Germans by firing at them. Grunner had therefore burnt their village.
At ten o’clock we were overtaken by a tornado. We were back again in the winter in fact, and every night there was a storm, or at least a downpour of rain.
On the 29th we continued our forced march, passing several fine villages surrounded by _tatas_. Kundji seemed a very big, strong place.
At about eleven o’clock we passed three rocks which probably form part of a bar across the river when the water is low, marking the beginning of the difficult and broken course below. At four o’clock we anchored opposite Tchakatchi, on an island at the foot of a group of magnificent baobabs. At the end of this island is a great mass of flint, and the banks were strewn with the big rocks of polished granite we knew so well. We were back again amongst the rapids, and had once more to encounter difficulties such as we had conquered at Ayoru and Kendadji. The whole village turned out to see us, and the chief himself offered to act as pilot. I accepted his suggestion, for our old Amadu had rather exaggerated his hydrographical knowledge. The only garment of most of the men of the village was a little leather apron worn behind, but some few wore drawers made of blue Haussa cotton. The faces of the women were scarred in the same way as those of their sisters of Kebbi, and they wore as ornaments in the lobes of the ear, little pieces of white stick about a quarter of an inch in diameter by seven inches long.
At seven o’clock the next day we started, preceded by the chief of Tchakatchi, who steered a tiny little canoe with a paddle curiously shaped and carved. The river was very much what we had expected it would be the evening before, the rocks forming a regular archipelago of islets, whilst rapids were also numerous. Fortunately this state of things did not last long, and presently we came to an almost calm reach, which brought us to Gilua, the capital of Yauri, where we noted one very large hut, the residence of the chief of the village.
I was in despair at having to travel like a bale of goods, without being able to have any intercourse with the people whose country we were passing through. But what could we do? Since we left Say we had had no power to treat with the natives, our interpreters were scarcely any good, whilst before us we had two great obstacles, Bussa and the English.
According to the most recent information collected, it was at Gilua and not at Bussa that Mungo Park died. Here then we had reached the limit of the path he trod one hundred years ago, and I remembered what Davoust had said to me: “Mungo Park has become immortal through merely having tried to do what we shall now endeavour to accomplish.”
I confess in all humility that since my return to France I have had to change my opinion on that point.
On the left and right of the river there were two mountains remarkable for their shape and their relative dimensions. I tried to find out their names, but was told that they had none in particular. To do honour to our comrades who had died under such melancholy circumstances, I baptized them Mount Davoust and Mount Delagarde, the latter having been the name of a naval officer who died without reaching the Niger.
I trust that these names will be considered of good omen by geographical critics in France, and that it will be admitted that I had every right to choose them. Have not the English named all the peaks of the chain on the banks of the river below Bussa after their great men? Mount Davoust will look quite as well in our atlases as Mount Wellington does in theirs.
We pushed on on the right between the villages of Ikum and Rupia, and after passing a little rapid we anchored opposite a big tree, beneath which a market was being held—an important one I was told by the people of Rupia. The chief of Tchakatchi had told us that we should meet his brother there, who would pilot us further, but he had left that same morning. As usual the people began to shilly-shally with us, and some men from Igga, whom we identified by their white turbans embroidered with green, sold to them by the Royal Niger Company, interposed in the conversation, but not in our favour.
“Off again!” was the word; we would push on and still push on, alone and without a pilot or help of any kind, but we would not be trifled with.
The people of Rupia are many of them Kambaris, a tribe alluded to by Richard Lander. Their women when young go about quite naked, and have the head shaved, but for a narrow tuft of hair left on the top. They have the peculiar custom of dyeing their legs up to above the knee with _rocou_, or red dye, which gives them the appearance at a distance of wearing nothing but light red stockings.
This was the first occasion on which I had seen people in a state of nudity in the Sudan, and this is the more remarkable as there are plenty of stuffs to be had cheap at Rupia.
Noticing my astonishment, one of the beauties of the place made the following naïve remark to me, which I thought was really rather sensible: “Why should we wear clothes? Are we so badly made that we need hide ourselves? All in good time, when we are old like our mothers, we will make up for the loss of our physical advantages by well-made clothes, but not till then.”
Many are the women on this earth of ours who could not say as much!
A little mollified by what my young friend said, I still felt perfectly furious at the sullen hostility and evident prejudice against us we now constantly met with, which delayed our journey in a manner so dangerous. Rightly or wrongly, I saw the hand of the English or of their agents in it all. Fortunately, however, the river is easy of navigation as far as Djidjima, a village picturesquely situated on an island, opposite to which we anchored at four o’clock.
In the evening we went to the village, and I asked for a guide for the next day, without much hope of getting one. I tried to win the people over to my side by distributing a great many little presents. We were invited to be present at a tam-tam, at which three dancers performed, wearing leggings from which were suspended little bits of iron resembling castanets, that made a deafening noise as they struck against each other. The dancers, moreover, were very clumsy in their attitudes.
No guide the next morning, but more men from Igga to stare at us. The accounts that Amadu gives us of the difficulties of navigation before us are heartrending, and as a matter of fact a little further down, the river began to divide again into a great many arms. We therefore anchored, and Digui went on in a canoe to reconnoitre.
Whilst he was away exploring we saw some eighty or a hundred canoes going up an arm on our right, the tam-tam beating ceaselessly. On inquiry we were told that it was only a water convoy on the way to Rupia, where a very big market was about to be held. All the way along the canoes stop to take up traders and their goods, very much as the small steamers do on the Seine, or the omnibuses in the streets of Paris. A canoe presently separated from the rest and came towards us, its occupants saying very amiably that seeing we had stopped, they had come to ascertain whether we were in any difficulty, and to offer to guide us.
There is no doubt there is a good God for honest folk, I very nearly added, and against the English. Be it remarked, for the reader to draw his own moral, that everywhere the inhabitants of the little villages, in a word the poor, helped us. The perpetual difficulties we had to contend with in this part of our journey only arose in the big centres.
Delighted at this chance of going on, we started, our guides being anything but _de trop_, passing several dangerous rapids and arriving safely at Fogué, where the river became once more calm.
On October 2 we had a hard day, but it was the best before we got to Bussa. Near Waro we had twice to go on in single file. The force of the current was now immense, seven miles an hour at least. Once more we felt as if we were dashing over cataracts, a painful sensation we were all too familiar with. Our guide had met a friend, who also to the best of his lights helped us to steer a right course. At half-past five we reached Bussa, and anchored opposite the landing-stage of the village. The river here divides into several arms, the town being on that farthest to the right, about a mile from the bank. A little village occupied by fishermen and traders was situated close to our camp. The water, which is of a black colour, seems very deep here, and the islands are covered with beautiful vegetation. The natives approached us without fear, and we at once began to barter with them in the usual manner, exchanging cloth, bracelets, rings and beads for provisions.
I sent Amadu to greet the chief of the village, promising him a good present if he succeeded in making that chief behave well to us.
I waited his return with impatience. There we were face to face with our last but perhaps the greatest difficulty of our voyage. A very considerable fuss is made about the cataracts or rather the rapids of Bussa. Providence had so far befriended us, and enabled us to reach this point without having lost one of our boats. Not a single man, white or black, belonging to the expedition had lost his life through what a year ago had been called our temerity. We had managed everywhere with greater or less difficulty to pass on in peace, leaving behind us none who had cause to hate us or to vow vengeance on us. Yet one last effort, and our aim would be achieved just as I had hoped to achieve it, exactly in accordance with our instructions, in spite of all the difficulties thrown in our way, not only by inanimate nature but by man. Just because this was to be our last struggle we dreaded it more than we had done any other. I was therefore immensely relieved when I saw Amadu coming back accompanied by an emissary from the chief. According to him all would go well, all was arranged; the chief of Bussa would supply us with all we needed, and, greatly to the delight of our men, give us all the help required for passing the rapids safely. A good supply of the fruit called _kus_ accompanied these cheering words. The chief would receive us the next day.
Whilst I was chatting with our guide and the natives who accompanied him, some girls were singing our praises and those of their master. According to their songs the people of Bussa are descended from the Persians, and they do in fact claim that they are the children of Kisira, who fought with Mahomet, and were driven away by him. Reference to history will show us that Kisira is only another name for Chosroes the Great, who was, as a matter of fact, the unfortunate adversary of the founder of Islam.
I state the fact for what it is worth, for the benefit of ethnologists.