VOL. 2 [OF 2]***


Transcribed from the 1887 Cassell & Company edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org

                          [Picture: Book cover]

                        CASSELL’S NATIONAL LIBRARY

                                * * * * *





                                 TRAVELS
                                  IN THE
                            INTERIOR OF AFRICA


                                    BY

                                MUNGO PARK

                                 VOL. II.

                      [Picture: Decorative graphic]

                       CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED:

                _LONDON_, _PARIS_, _NEW YORK & MELBOURNE_.

                                  1887.




INTRODUCTION.


THE first of the two volumes which contain Mungo Park’s “Travels in the
Interior of Africa” brought him through many perils to the first sight of
the Niger, and left him sick and solitary, stripped of nearly all that he
possessed, a half-starved white man on a half-starved horse.  He was
helped on by a bag of cowries from a kindly chief; but in this volume he
has not advanced far before he is stripped of all.

There is not in the range of English literature a more interesting
traveller’s tale than was given to the world in this book which this
volume completes.  It took the deeper hold upon its readers, because it
appeared at a time when English hearts began to be stirred by the wrongs
of slavery.  But at any time there would be strong human interest in the
unconscious painting of the writer’s character, as he makes his way over
far regions in which no white man had before been seen, with firm resolve
and with good temper as well as courage and prudence, which bring him
safe through many a hair-breadth escape.  There was a true kindness in
Mungo Park that found answering kindness and brought out the spirit of
humanity in those upon whose goodwill his life depends; in the <DW64>s
often, although never in the Moors.  There was no flinching in the man,
who, when robbed of his horse, stripped to the shirt in a forest and left
upon a lion’s track, looked down with a botanist’s eye on the beauty of a
tiny moss at his feet, drew comfort from it, and laboured on with quiet
faith in God.  The same eye was as quick to recognise the diverse
characters of men.  In Mungo Park shrewd humour and right feeling went
together.  Whatever he had to say he said clearly and simply; and it went
straight home.  He had the good fortune to be born before “picturesque
writing” was invented.  When we return to the Gambia with Mungo Park
under the same escort with a coffle of slaves on their way to be shipped
for the use of Christians, from the strength of his unlaboured narrative
we get clear knowledge unclouded by a rainbow mist of words.  He is of
one blood with the sailors in whom Hakluyt delighted.




CHAPTER XVI.
VILLAGES ON THE NIGER—DETERMINES TO GO NO FARTHER EASTWARD.


BEING, in the manner that has been related, compelled to leave Sego, I
was conducted the same evening to a village about seven miles to the
eastward, with some of the inhabitants of which my guide was acquainted,
and by whom we were well received. {7}  He was very friendly and
communicative, and spoke highly of the hospitality of his countrymen, but
withal told me that if Jenné was the place of my destination, which he
seemed to have hitherto doubted, I had undertaken an enterprise of
greater danger than probably I was apprised of; for, although the town of
Jenné was nominally a part of the king of Bambarra’s dominions, it was in
fact, he said, a city of the Moors—the leading part of the inhabitants
being bushreens, and even the governor himself, though appointed by
Mansong, of the same sect.  Thus was I in danger of falling a second time
into the hands of men who would consider it not only justifiable, but
meritorious, to destroy me, and this reflection was aggravated by the
circumstance that the danger increased as I advanced in my journey, for I
learned that the places beyond Jenné were under the Moorish influence in
a still greater degree than Jenné itself, and Timbuctoo, the great object
of my search, altogether in possession of that savage and merciless
people, who allow no Christian to live there.  But I had now advanced too
far to think of returning to the westward on such vague and uncertain
information, and determined to proceed; and being accompanied by the
guide, I departed from the village on the morning of the 24th.  About
eight o’clock we passed a large town called Kabba, situated in the midst
of a beautiful and highly cultivated country, bearing a greater
resemblance to the centre of England than to what I should have supposed
had been the middle of Africa.  The people were everywhere employed in
collecting the fruit of shea trees, from which they prepare the vegetable
butter mentioned in former parts of this work.  These trees grow in great
abundance all over this part of Bambarra.  They are not planted by the
natives, but are found growing naturally in the woods; and in clearing
woodland for cultivation every tree is cut down but the shea.  The tree
itself very much resembles the American oak, and the fruit—from the
kernel of which, being first dried in the sun, the butter is prepared by
boiling the kernel in water—has somewhat the appearance of a Spanish
olive.  The kernel is enveloped in a sweet pulp, under a thin green rind;
and the butter produced from it, besides the advantage of its keeping the
whole year without salt, is whiter, firmer, and, to my palate, of a
richer flavour, than the best butter I ever tasted made from cow’s milk.
The growth and preparation of this commodity seem to be among the first
objects of African industry in this and the neighbouring states, and it
constitutes a main article of their inland commerce.

We passed, in the course of the day, a great many villages inhabited
chiefly by fishermen, and in the evening about five o’clock arrived at
Sansanding, a very large town, containing, as I was told, from eight to
ten thousand inhabitants.  This place is much resorted to by the Moors,
who bring salt from Berroo, and beads and coral from the Mediterranean,
to exchange here for gold dust and cotton cloth.  This cloth they sell to
great advantage in Berroo, and other Moorish countries, where, on account
of the want of rain, no cotton is cultivated.

I desired my guide to conduct me to the house in which we were to lodge
by the most private way possible.  We accordingly rode along between the
town and the river, passing by a creek or harbour, in which I observed
twenty large canoes, most of them fully loaded, and covered with mats to
prevent the rain from injuring the goods.  As we proceeded, three other
canoes arrived, two with passengers and one with goods.  I was happy to
find that all the <DW64> inhabitants took me for a Moor, under which
character I should probably have passed unmolested, had not a Moor, who
was sitting by the river-side, discovered the mistake, and, setting up a
loud exclamation, brought together a number of his countrymen.

When I arrived at the house of Counti Mamadi, the dooty of the town, I
was surrounded with hundreds of people speaking a variety of different
dialects, all equally unintelligible to me.  At length, by the assistance
of my guide, who acted as interpreter, I understood that one of the
spectators pretended to have seen me at one place, and another at some
other place; and a Moorish woman absolutely swore that she had kept my
house three years at Gallam, on the river Senegal.  It was plain that
they mistook me for some other person, and I desired two of the most
confident to point towards the place where they had seen me.  They
pointed due south; hence I think it probable that they came from Cape
Coast, where they might have seen many white men.  Their language was
different from any I had yet heard.  The Moors now assembled in great
number, with their usual arrogance, compelling the <DW64>s to stand at a
distance.  They immediately began to question me concerning my religion,
but finding that I was not master of Arabic, they sent for two men, whom
they call _Ilhuidi_ (Jews), in hopes that they might be able to converse
with me.  These Jews, in dress and appearance, very much resemble the
Arabs; but though they so far conform to the religion of Mohammed as to
recite in public prayers from the Koran, they are but little respected by
the <DW64>s; and even the Moors themselves allowed that, though I was a
Christian, I was a better man than a Jew.  They however insisted that,
like the Jews, I must conform so far as to repeat the Mohammedan prayers;
and when I attempted to waive the subject by telling them that I could
not speak Arabic, one of them, a shereef from Tuat, in the Great Desert,
started up and swore by the Prophet that if I refused to go to the
mosque, he would be one that would assist in carrying me thither; and
there is no doubt that this threat would have been immediately executed
had not my landlord interposed on my behalf.  He told them that I was the
king’s stranger, and he could not see me ill-treated whilst I was under
his protection.  He therefore advised them to let me alone for the night,
assuring them that in the morning I should be sent about my business.
This somewhat appeased their clamour, but they compelled me to ascend a
high seat by the door of the mosque, in order that everybody might see
me, for the people had assembled in such numbers as to be quite
ungovernable, climbing upon the houses, and squeezing each other, like
the spectators at an execution.  Upon this seat I remained until sunset,
when I was conducted into a neat little hut, with a small court before
it, the door of which Counti Mamadi shut, to prevent any person from
disturbing me.  But this precaution could not exclude the Moors.  They
climbed over the top of the mud wall, and came in crowds into the court,
“in order,” they said, “to see me _perform my evening devotions_, _and
eat eggs_.”  The former of these ceremonies I did not think proper to
comply with, but I told them I had no objection to eat eggs, provided
they would bring me eggs to eat.  My landlord immediately brought me
seven hen’s eggs, and was much surprised to find that I could not eat
them raw; for it seems to be a prevalent opinion among the inhabitants of
the interior that Europeans subsist almost entirely on this diet.  When I
had succeeded in persuading my landlord that this opinion was without
foundation, and that I would gladly partake of any victuals which he
might think proper to send me, he ordered a sheep to be killed, and part
of it to be dressed for my supper.  About midnight, when the Moors had
left me, he paid me a visit, and with much earnestness desired me to
write him a saphie.  “If a Moor’s saphie is good,” said this hospitable
old man, “a white man’s must needs be better.”  I readily furnished him
with one, possessed of all the virtues I could concentrate, for it
contained the Lord’s Prayer.  The pen with which it was written was made
of a reed; a little charcoal and gum-water made very tolerable ink, and a
thin board answered the purpose of paper.

_July_ 25.—Early in the morning, before the Moors were assembled, I
departed from Sansanding, and slept the ensuing night at a small town
called Sibili, from whence on the day following I reached Nyara, a large
town at some distance from the river, where I halted the 27th, to have my
clothes washed, and recruit my horse.  The dooty there has a very
commodious house, flat-roofed, and two storeys high.  He showed me some
gunpowder of his own manufacturing; and pointed out, as a great
curiosity, a little brown monkey that was tied to a stake by the door,
telling me that it came from a far distant country called Kong.

_July_ 28.—I departed from Nyara, and reached Nyamee about noon.  This
town is inhabited chiefly by Foulahs from the kingdom of Masina.  The
dooty, I know not why, would not receive me, but civilly sent his son on
horseback to conduct me to Modiboo, which he assured me was at no great
distance.

We rode nearly in a direct line through the woods, but in general went
forwards with great circumspection.  I observed that my guide frequently
stopped and looked under the bushes.  On inquiring the reason of this
caution he told me that lions were very numerous in that part of the
country, and frequently attacked people travelling through the woods.
While he was speaking, my horse started, and looking round, I observed a
large animal of the camelopard kind standing at a little distance.  The
neck and fore-legs were very long; the head was furnished with two short
black horns, turning backwards; the tail, which reached down to the ham
joint, had a tuft of hair at the end.  The animal was of a mouse colour,
and it trotted away from us in a very sluggish manner—moving its head
from side to side, to see if we were pursuing it.  Shortly after this, as
we were crossing a large open plain, where there were a few scattered
bushes, my guide, who was a little way before me, wheeled his horse round
in a moment, calling out something in the Foulah language which I did not
understand.  I inquired in Mandingo what he meant; “_Wara billi billi_!”
(“A very large lion!”) said he, and made signs for me to ride away.  But
my horse was too much fatigued; so we rode slowly past the bush from
which the animal had given us the alarm.  Not seeing anything myself,
however, I thought my guide had been mistaken, when the Foulah suddenly
put his hand to his mouth, exclaiming, “_Soubah an allahi_!” (“God
preserve us!”) and, to my great surprise, I then perceived a large red
lion, at a short distance from the bush, with his head couched between
his forepaws.  I expected he would instantly spring upon me, and
instinctively pulled my feet from my stirrups to throw myself on the
ground, that my horse might become the victim rather than myself.  But it
is probable the lion was not hungry; for he quietly suffered us to pass,
though we were fairly within his reach.  My eyes were so riveted upon
this sovereign of the beasts that I found it impossible to remove them
until we were at a considerable distance.  We now took a circuitous route
through some swampy ground, to avoid any more of these disagreeable
encounters.  At sunset we arrived at Modiboo—a delightful village on the
banks of the Niger, commanding a view of the river for many miles both to
the east and west.  The small green islands (the peaceful retreat of some
industrious Foulahs, whose cattle are here secure from the depredations
of wild beasts) and the majestic breadth of the river, which is here much
larger than at Sego, render the situation one of the most enchanting in
the world.  Here are caught great plenty of fish, by means of long cotton
nets, which the natives make themselves, and use nearly in the same
manner as nets are used in Europe.  I observed the head of a crocodile
lying upon one of the houses, which they told me had been killed by the
shepherds in a swamp near the town.  These animals are not uncommon in
the Niger, but I believe they are not oftentimes found dangerous.  They
are of little account to the traveller when compared with the amazing
swarms of mosquitoes, which rise from the swamps and creeks in such
numbers as to harass even the most torpid of the natives; and as my
clothes were now almost worn to rags, I was but ill prepared to resist
their attacks.  I usually passed the night without shutting my eyes,
walking backwards and forwards, fanning myself with my hat; their stings
raised numerous blisters on my legs and arms, which, together with the
want of rest, made me very feverish and uneasy.

_July_ 29.—Early in the morning, my landlord, observing that I was
sickly, hurried me away, sending a servant with me as a guide to Kea.
But though I was little able to walk, my horse was still less able to
carry me; and about six miles to the east of Modiboo, in crossing some
rough clayey ground, he fell, and the united strength of the guide and
myself could not place him again upon his legs.  I sat down for some time
beside this worn-out associate of my adventures, but finding him still
unable to rise, I took off the saddle and bridle, and placed a quantity
of grass before him.  I surveyed the poor animal, as he lay panting on
the ground, with sympathetic emotion, for I could not suppress the sad
apprehension that I should myself, in a short time, lie down and perish
in the same manner, of fatigue and hunger.  With this foreboding I left
my poor horse, and with great reluctance followed my guide on foot along
the bank of the river until about noon, when we reached Kea, which I
found to be nothing more than a small fishing village.  The dooty, a
surly old man, who was sitting by the gate, received me very coolly; and
when I informed him of my situation, and begged his protection, told me
with great indifference that he paid very little attention to fine
speeches, and that I should not enter his house.  My guide remonstrated
in my favour, but to no purpose, for the dooty remained inflexible in his
determination.  I knew not where to rest my wearied limbs, but was
happily relieved by a fishing canoe belonging to Silla, which was at that
moment coming down the river.  The dooty waved to the fisherman to come
near, and desired him to take charge of me as far as Moorzan.  The
fisherman, after some hesitation, consented to carry me, and I embarked
in the canoe in company with the fisherman, his wife, and a boy.  The
<DW64> who had conducted me from Modiboo now left me.  I requested him to
look to my horse on his return, and take care of him if he was still
alive, which he promised to do.

Departing from Kea, we proceeded about a mile down the river, when the
fisherman paddled the canoe to the bank and desired me to jump out.
Having tied the canoe to a stake, he stripped off his clothes, and dived
for such a length of time that I thought he had actually drowned himself,
and was surprised to see his wife behave with so much indifference upon
the occasion; but my fears were over when he raised up his head astern of
the canoe and called for a rope.  With this rope he dived a second time,
and then got into the canoe and ordered the boy to assist him in pulling.
At length they brought up a large basket, about ten feet in diameter,
containing two fine fish, which the fisherman—after returning the basket
into the water—immediately carried ashore and hid in the grass.  We then
went a little farther down and took up another basket, in which was one
fish.  The fisherman now left us to carry his prizes to some neighbouring
market, and the woman and boy proceeded with me in the canoe down the
river.

About four o’clock we arrived at Moorzan, a fishing town on the northern
bank, from whence I was conveyed across the river to Silla, a large town,
where I remained until it was quite dark, under a tree, surrounded by
hundreds of people.

With a great deal of entreaty the dooty allowed me to come into his
baloon to avoid the rain, but the place was very damp, and I had a smart
paroxysm of fever during the night.  Worn down by sickness, exhausted
with hunger and fatigue, half-naked, and without any article of value by
which I might procure provisions, clothes, or lodging, I began to reflect
seriously on my situation.  I was now convinced, by painful experience,
that the obstacles to my farther progress were insurmountable.  The
tropical rains were already set in with all their violence—the rice
grounds and swamps were everywhere overflowed—and in a few days more,
travelling of every kind, unless by water, would be completely
obstructed.  The kowries which remained of the king of Bambarra’s present
were not sufficient to enable me to hire a canoe for any great distance,
and I had but little hopes of subsisting by charity in a country where
the Moors have such influence.  But, above all, I perceived that I was
advancing more and more within the power of those merciless fanatics,
and, from my reception both at Sego and Sansanding, I was apprehensive
that, in attempting to reach even Jenné (unless under the protection of
some man of consequence amongst them, which I had no means of obtaining),
I should sacrifice my life to no purpose, for my discoveries would perish
with me.  The prospect either way was gloomy.  In returning to the
Gambia, a journey on foot of many hundred miles presented itself to my
contemplation, through regions and countries unknown.  Nevertheless, this
seemed to be the only alternative, for I saw inevitable destruction in
attempting to proceed to the eastward.  With this conviction on my mind I
hope my readers will acknowledge that I did right in going no farther.

Having thus brought my mind, after much doubt and perplexity, to a
determination to return westward, I thought it incumbent on me, before I
left Silla, to collect from the Moorish and <DW64> traders all the
information I could concerning the farther course of the Niger eastward,
and the situation and extent of the kingdoms in its vicinage; and the
following few notices I received from such various quarters as induce me
to think they are authentic:—

Two short days’ journey to the eastward of Silla is the town of Jenné,
which is situated on a small island in the river, and is said to contain
a greater number of inhabitants than Sego itself, or any other town in
Bambarra.  At the distance of two days more, the river spreads into a
considerable lake, called Dibbie (or the Dark Lake), concerning the
extent of which all the information I could obtain was that in crossing
it from west to east the canoes lose sight of land one whole day.  From
this lake the water issues in many different streams, which terminate in
two large branches, one whereof flows towards the north-east, and the
other to the east; but these branches join at Kabra, which is one day’s
journey to the southward of Timbuctoo, and is the port or shipping-place
of that city.  The tract of land which the two streams encircle is called
Jinbala, and is inhabited by <DW64>s; and the whole distance by land from
Jenné to Timbuctoo is twelve days’ journey.

From Kabra, at the distance of eleven days’ journey down the stream, the
river passes to the southward of Houssa, which is two days’ journey
distant from the river.  Of the farther progress of this great river, and
its final exit, all the natives with whom I conversed seemed to be
entirely ignorant.  Their commercial pursuits seldom induce them to
travel farther than the cities of Timbuctoo and Houssa, and as the sole
object of those journeys is the acquirement of wealth, they pay little
attention to the course of rivers or the geography of countries.  It is,
however, highly probable that the Niger affords a safe and easy
communication between very remote nations.  All my informants agreed that
many of the <DW64> merchants who arrive at Timbuctoo and Houssa from the
eastward speak a different language from that of Bambarra, or any other
kingdom with which they are acquainted But even these merchants, it would
seem, are ignorant of the termination of the river, for such of them as
can speak Arabic describe the amazing length of its course in very
general terms, saying only that they believe it runs _to the world’s
end_.

The names of many kingdoms to the eastward of Houssa are familiar to the
inhabitants of Bambarra.  I was shown quivers and arrows of very curious
workmanship, which I was informed came from the kingdom of Kassina.

On the northern bank of the Niger, at a short distance from Silla, is the
kingdom of Masina, which is inhabited by Foulahs.  They employ themselves
there, as in other places, chiefly in pasturage, and pay an annual
tribute to the king of Bambarra for the lands which they occupy.

To the north-east of Masina is situated the kingdom of Timbuctoo, the
great object of European research—the capital of this kingdom being one
of the principal marts for that extensive commerce which the Moors carry
on with the <DW64>s.  The hopes of acquiring wealth in this pursuit, and
zeal for propagating their religion, have filled this extensive city with
Moors and Mohammedan converts.  The king himself and all the chief
officers of state are Moors; and they are said to be more severe and
intolerant in their principles than any other of the Moorish tribes in
this part of Africa.  I was informed by a venerable old <DW64>, that when
he first visited Timbuctoo, he took up his lodging at a sort of public
inn, the landlord of which, when he conducted him into his hut, spread a
mat on the floor, and laid a rope upon it, saying, “If you are a
Mussulman, you are my friend—sit down; but if you are a <DW5>, you are my
slave, and with this rope I will lead you to market.”  The present king
of Timbuctoo is named Abu Abrahima.  He is reported to possess immense
riches.  His wives and concubines are said to be clothed in silk, and the
chief officers of state live in considerable splendour.  The whole
expense of his government is defrayed, as I was told, by a tax upon
merchandise, which is collected at the gates of the city.

The city of Houssa (the capital of a large kingdom of the same name,
situated to the eastward of Timbuctoo), is another great mart for Moorish
commerce.  I conversed with many merchants who had visited that city, and
they all agreed that it is larger—and more populous than Timbuctoo.  The
trade, police, and government are nearly the same in both; but in Houssa
the <DW64>s are in greater proportion to the Moors, and have some share
in the government.

Concerning the small kingdom of Jinbala I was not able to collect much
information.  The soil is said to be remarkably fertile, and the whole
country so full of creeks and swamps that the Moors have hitherto been
baffled in every attempt to subdue it.  The inhabitants are <DW64>s, and
some of them are said to live in considerable affluence, particularly
those near the capital, which is a resting-place for such merchants as
transport goods from Timbuctoo to the western parts of Africa.

To the southward of Jinbala is situated the <DW64> kingdom of Gotto, which
is said to be of great extent.  It was formerly divided into a number of
petty states, which were governed by their own chiefs; but their private
quarrels invited invasion from the neighbouring kingdoms.  At length a
politic chief of the name of Moossee had address enough to make them
unite in hostilities against Bambarra; and on this occasion he was
unanimously chosen general—the different chiefs consenting for a time to
act under his command.  Moossee immediately despatched a fleet of canoes,
loaded with provisions, from the banks of the lake Dibbie up the Niger
towards Jenné, and with the whole of his army pushed forwards into
Bambarra.  He arrived on the bank of the Niger opposite to Jenné before
the townspeople had the smallest intimation of his approach.  His fleet
of canoes joined him the same day, and having landed the provisions, he
embarked part of his army, and in the night took Jenné by storm.  This
event so terrified the king of Bambarra that he sent messengers to sue
for peace; and in order to obtain it consented to deliver to Moossee a
certain number of slaves every year, and return everything that had been
taken from the inhabitants of Gotto.  Moossee, thus triumphant, returned
to Gotto, where he was declared king, and the capital of the country is
called by his name.

On the west of Gotto is the kingdom of Baedoo, which was conquered by the
present king of Bambarra about seven years ago, and has continued
tributary to him ever since.

West of Baedoo is Maniana, the inhabitants of which, according to the
best information I was able to collect, are cruel and ferocious—carrying
their resentment towards their enemies so far as never to give quarter,
and even to indulge themselves with unnatural and disgusting banquets of
human flesh.




CHAPTER XVII.
MOORZAN TO TAFFARA.


HAVING, for the reasons assigned in the last chapter, determined to
proceed no farther eastward than Silla, I acquainted the dooty with my
intention of returning to Sego, proposing to travel along the southern
side of the river; but he informed me that, from the number of creeks and
swamps on that side, it was impossible to travel by any other route than
along the northern bank, and even that route, he said, would soon be
impassable on account of the overflowing of the river.  However, as he
commended my determination to return westward, he agreed to speak to some
one of the fishermen to carry me over to Moorzan.  I accordingly stepped
into a canoe about eight o’clock in the morning of July 30th, and in
about an hour was landed at Moorzan.  At this place I hired a canoe for
sixty kowries, and in the afternoon arrived at Kea, where, for forty
kowries more, the dooty permitted me to sleep in the same hut with one of
his slaves.  This poor <DW64>, perceiving that I was sickly, and that my
clothes were very ragged, humanely lent me a large cloth to cover me for
the night.

_July_ 31.—The dooty’s brother being going to Modiboo, I embraced the
opportunity of accompanying him thither, there being no beaten road.  He
promised to carry my saddle, which I had left at Kea, when my horse fell
down in the woods, as I now proposed to present it to the king of
Bambarra.

We departed from Kea at eight o’clock, and about a mile to the westward
observed on the bank of the river a great number of earthen jars piled up
together.  They were very neatly formed, but not glazed, and were
evidently of that sort of pottery which is manufactured at Downie (a town
to the west of Timbuctoo), and sold to great advantage in different parts
of Bambarra.  As we approached towards the jars my companion plucked up a
large handful of herbage, and threw it upon them, making signs for me to
do the same, which I did.  He then, with great seriousness told me that
these jars belonged to some supernatural power; that they were found in
their present situation about two years ago; and as no person had claimed
them, every traveller as he passed them, from respect to the invisible
proprietor, threw some grass, or the branch of a tree, upon the heap, to
defend the jars from the rain.

Thus conversing, we travelled in the most friendly manner, until
unfortunately we perceived the footsteps of a lion, quite fresh in the
mud, near the river-side.  My companion now proceeded with great
circumspection; and at last, coming to some thick underwood, he insisted
that I should walk before him.  I endeavoured to excuse myself, by
alleging that I did not know the road; but he obstinately persisted, and,
after a few high words and menacing looks, threw down the saddle and went
away.  This very much disconcerted me; but as I had given up all hopes of
obtaining a horse, I could not think of encumbering myself with the
saddle, and, taking off the stirrups and girths, I threw the saddle into
the river.  The <DW64> no sooner saw me throw the saddle into the water
than he came running from among the bushes where he had concealed
himself, jumped into the river, and by help of his spear, brought out the
saddle and ran away with it.  I continued my course along the bank; but
as the wood was remarkably thick, and I had reason to believe that a lion
was at no great distance, I became much alarmed, and took a long circuit
through the bushes to avoid him.

About four in the afternoon I reached Modiboo, where I found my saddle.
The guide, who had got there before me, being afraid that I should inform
the king of his conduct, had brought the saddle with him in a canoe.

While I was conversing with the dooty, and remonstrating against the
guide for having left me in such a situation, I heard a horse neigh in
one of the huts; and the dooty inquired with a smile if I knew who was
speaking to me.  He explained himself by telling me that my horse was
still alive, and somewhat recovered from his fatigue; but he insisted
that I should take him along with me, adding that he had once kept a
Moor’s horse for four months, and when the horse had recovered and got
into good condition, the Moor returned and claimed it, and refused to
give him any reward for his trouble.

_August_ 1.—I departed from Modiboo, driving my horse before me, and in
the afternoon reached Nyamee; where I remained three days, during which
time it rained without intermission, and with such violence that no
person could venture out of doors.

_August_ 5.—I departed from Nyamee; but the country was so deluged that I
was frequently in danger of losing the road, and had to wade across the
savannas for miles together, knee-deep in water.  Even the corn ground,
which is the driest land in the country, was so completely flooded that
my horse twice stuck fast in the mud, and was not got out without the
greatest difficulty.

In the evening of the same day I arrived at Nyara, where I was well
received by the dooty; and as the 6th was rainy I did not depart until
the morning of the 7th; but the water had swelled to such a height, that
in many places the road was scarcely passable, and though I waded
breast-deep across the swamps I could only reach a small village called
Nemaboo, where however, for a hundred kowries, I procured from some
Foulahs plenty of corn for my horse and milk for myself.

_August_ 8.—The difficulties I had experienced the day before made me
anxious to engage a fellow-traveller, particularly as I was assured that,
in the course of a few days, the country would be so completely
overflowed as to render the road utterly impassable; but though I offered
two hundred kowries for a guide, nobody would accompany me.  However, on
the morning following, August 9th, a Moor and his wife, riding upon two
bullocks, and bound for Sego with salt, passed the village, and agreed to
take me along with them; but I found them of little service, for they
were wholly unacquainted with the road, and being accustomed to a sandy
soil, were very bad travellers.  Instead of wading before the bullocks to
feel if the ground was solid, the woman boldly entered the first swamp,
riding upon the top of the load; but when she had proceeded about two
hundred yards the bullock sunk into a hole, and threw both the load and
herself among the reeds.  The frightened husband stood for some time
seemingly petrified with horror, and suffered his wife to be almost
drowned before he went to her assistance.

About sunset we reached Sibity, but the dooty received me very coolly;
and when I solicited for a guide to Sansanding he told me his people were
otherwise employed.  I was shown into a damp old hut, where I passed a
very uncomfortable night; for when the walls of the huts are softened by
the rain they frequently become too weak to support the weight of the
roof.  I heard three huts fall during the night, and was apprehensive
that the hut I lodged in would be the fourth.  In the morning, as I went
to pull some grass for my horse, I counted fourteen huts which had fallen
in this manner since the commencement of the rainy season.

It continued to rain with great violence all the 10th; and as the dooty
refused to give me any provisions, I purchased some corn, which I divided
with my horse.

_August_ 11.—The dooty compelled me to depart from the town, and I set
out for Sansanding without any great hopes of faring better than I had
done at Sibity; for I learned, from people who came to visit me, that a
report prevailed, and was universally believed, that I had come to
Bambarra as a spy; and as Mansong had not admitted me into his presence,
the dooties of the different towns were at liberty to treat me in what
manner they pleased.  From repeatedly hearing the same story I had no
doubt of the truth of it; but as there was no alternative I determined to
proceed, and a little before sunset I arrived at Sansanding.  My
reception was what I expected.  Counti Mamadi, who had been so kind to me
formerly, scarcely gave me welcome.  Every one wished to shun me; and my
landlord sent a person to inform me that a very unfavourable report was
received from Sego concerning me, and that he wished me to depart early
in the morning.  About ten o’clock at night Counti Mamadi himself came
privately to me, and informed me that Mansong had despatched a canoe to
Jenné to bring me back; and he was afraid I should find great difficulty
in going to the west country.  He advised me therefore to depart from
Sansanding before daybreak, and cautioned me against stopping at Diggani,
or any town near Sego.

_August_ 12.—I departed from Sansanding, and reached Kabba in the
afternoon.  As I approached the town I was surprised to see several
people assembled at the gate, one of whom, as I advanced, came running
towards me, and taking my horse by the bridle, led me round the walls of
the town, and then, pointing to the west, told me to go along, or it
would fare worse with me.  It was in vain that I represented the danger
of being benighted in the woods, exposed to the inclemency of the weather
and the fury of wild beasts.  “Go along!” was all the answer; and a
number of people coming up and urging me in the same manner, with great
earnestness, I suspected that some of the king’s messengers, who were
sent in search of me, were in the town, and that these <DW64>s, from mere
kindness, conducted me past it with a view to facilitate my escape.  I
accordingly took the road for Sego, with the uncomfortable prospect of
passing the night on the branches of a tree.  After travelling about
three miles, I came to a small village near the road.  The dooty was
splitting sticks by the gate, but I found I could have no admittance, and
when I attempted to enter, he jumped up, and with the stick he held in
his hand, threatened to strike me off the horse if I presumed to advance
another step.

At a little distance from this village (and further from the road) is
another small one.  I conjectured that, being rather out of the common
route, the inhabitants might have fewer objections to give me house-room
for the night; and having crossed some cornfields, I sat down under a
tree by the well.  Two or three women came to draw water, and one of
them, perceiving I was a stranger, inquired whither I was going.  I told
her I was going for Sego, but being benighted on the road, I wished to
stay at the village until morning, and begged she would acquaint the
dooty with my situation.  In a little time the dooty sent for me, and
permitted me to sleep in a large baloon.

_August_ 13.—About ten o’clock I reached a small village within half a
mile of Sego, where I endeavoured, but in vain, to procure some
provisions.  Every one seemed anxious to avoid me; and I can plainly
perceive, by the looks and behaviour of the inhabitants, that some very
unfavourable accounts had been circulated concerning me.  I was again
informed that Mansong had sent people to apprehend me, and the dooty’s
son told me I had no time to lose if I wished to get safe out of
Bambarra.  I now fully saw the danger of my situation, and determined to
avoid Sego altogether.  I accordingly mounted my horse, and taking the
road for Diggani, travelled as fast as I could till I was out of sight of
the villagers, when I struck to the westward, through high grass and
swampy ground.  About noon I stopped under a tree to consider what course
to take, for I had now no doubt that the Moors and slatees had
misinformed the king respecting the object of my mission, and that people
were absolutely in search of me to convey me a prisoner to Sego.
Sometimes I had thoughts of swimming my horse across the Niger, and going
to the southward for Cape Coast, but reflecting that I had ten days to
travel before I should reach Kong, and afterwards an extensive country to
traverse, inhabited by various nations with whose language and manners I
was totally unacquainted, I relinquished this scheme, and judged that I
should better answer the purpose of my mission by proceeding to the
westward along the Niger, endeavouring to ascertain how far the river was
navigable in that direction.  Having resolved upon this course, I
proceeded accordingly, and a little before sunset arrived at a Foulah
village called Sooboo, where, for two hundred kowries, I procured lodging
for the night.

_August_ 14.—I continued my course along the bank of the river, through a
populous and well-cultivated country.  I passed a walled town called
Kamalia {35} without stopping, and at noon rode through a large town
called Samee, where there happened to be a market, and a number of people
assembled in an open place in the middle of the town, selling cattle,
cloth, corn, &c.  I rode through the midst of them without being much
observed, every one taking me for a Moor.  In the afternoon I arrived at
a small village called Binni, where I agreed with the dooty’s son, for
one hundred kowries, to allow me to stay for the night; but when the
dooty returned, he insisted that I should instantly leave the place, and
if his wife and son had not interceded for me, I must have complied.

_August_ 15.—About nine o’clock I passed a large town called Sai, which
very much excited my curiosity.  It is completely surrounded by two very
deep trenches, at about two hundred yards distant from the walls.  On the
top of the trenches are a number of square towers, and the whole has the
appearance of a regular fortification.

About noon I came to the village of Kaimoo, situated upon the bank of the
river, and as the corn I had purchased at Sibili was exhausted, I
endeavoured to purchase a fresh supply, but was informed that corn was
become very scarce all over the country, and though I offered fifty
kowries for a small quantity, no person would sell me any.  As I was
about to depart, however, one of the villagers (who probably mistook me
for some Moorish shereef) brought me some as a present, only desiring me
to bestow my blessing upon him, which I did in plain English, and he
received it with a thousand acknowledgments.  Of this present I made my
dinner, and it was the third successive day that I had subsisted entirely
upon raw corn.

In the evening I arrived at a small village called Song, the surly
inhabitants of which would not receive me, nor so much as permit me to
enter the gate; but as lions were very numerous in this neighbourhood,
and I had frequently, in the course of the day, observed the impression
of their feet on the road, I resolved to stay in the vicinity of the
village.  Having collected some grass for my horse, I accordingly lay
down under a tree by the gate.  About ten o’clock I heard the hollow roar
of a lion at no great distance, and attempted to open the gate, but the
people from within told me that no person must attempt to enter the gate
without the dooty’s permission.  I begged them to inform the dooty that a
lion was approaching the village, and I hoped he would allow me to come
within the gate.  I waited for an answer to this message with great
anxiety, for the lion kept prowling round the village, and once advanced
so very near me that I heard him rustling among the grass, and climbed
the tree for safety.  About midnight the dooty, with some of his people,
opened the gate, and desired me to come in.  They were convinced, they
said, that I was not a Moor, for no Moor ever waited any time at the gate
of a village without cursing the inhabitants.

_August_ 16.—About ten o’clock I passed a considerable town, with a
mosque, called Jabbee.  Here the country begins to rise into hills, and I
could see the summits of high mountains to the westward.  About noon I
stopped at a small village near Yamina, where I purchased some corn, and
dried my papers and clothes.

The town of Yamina at a distance has a very fine appearance.  It covers
nearly the same extent of ground as Sansanding, but having been plundered
by Daisy, king of Kaarta, about four years ago, it has not yet resumed
its former prosperity, nearly one-half of the town being nothing but a
heap of ruins.  However, it is still a considerable place, and is so much
frequented by the Moors that I did not think it safe to lodge in it, but
in order to satisfy myself respecting its population and extent, I
resolved to ride through it, in doing which I observed a great many Moors
sitting upon the bentangs, and other places of public resort.  Everybody
looked at me with astonishment, but as I rode briskly along they had no
time to ask questions.

I arrived in the evening at Farra, a walled village, where, without much
difficulty, I procured a lodging for the night.

_August_ 17.—Early in the morning I pursued my journey, and at eight
o’clock passed a considerable town called Balaba, after which the road
quits the plain, and stretches along the side of the hill.  I passed in
the course of this day the ruins of three towns, the inhabitants of which
were all carried away by Daisy, king of Kaarta, on the same day that he
took and plundered Yamina.  Near one of these ruins I climbed a
tamarind-tree, but found the fruit quite green and sour, and the prospect
of the country was by no means inviting, for the high grass and bushes
seemed completely to obstruct the road, and the low lands were all so
flooded by the river, that the Niger had the appearance of an extensive
lake.  In the evening I arrived at Kanika, where the dooty, who was
sitting upon an elephant’s hide at the gate, received me kindly, and gave
me for supper some milk and meal, which I considered (as to a person in
my situation it really was) a very great luxury.

_August_ 18.—By mistake I took the wrong road, and did not discover my
error until I had travelled nearly four miles, when, coming to an
eminence, I observed the Niger considerably to the left.  Directing my
course towards it, I travelled through long grass and bushes with great
difficulty until two o’clock in thee afternoon, when I came to a
comparatively small but very rapid river, which I took at first for a
creek, or one of the streams of the Niger.  However, after I had examined
it with more attention, I was convinced that it was a distinct river, and
as the road evidently crossed it (for I could see the pathway on the
opposite side), I sat down upon the bank in hopes that some traveller
might arrive who would give me the necessary information concerning the
fording-place—for the banks were so covered with reeds and bushes that it
would have been almost impossible to land on the other side, except at
the pathway, which, on account of the rapidity of the stream, it seemed
very difficult to reach.  No traveller however arriving, and there being
a great appearance of rain, I examined the grass and bushes for some way
up the bank, and determined upon entering the river considerably above
the pathway, in order to reach the other side before the stream had swept
me too far down.  With this view I fastened my clothes upon the saddle,
and was standing up to the neck in water, pulling my horse by the bridle
to make him follow me, where a man came accidentally to the place, and
seeing me in the water, called to me with great vehemence to come out.
The alligators, he said, would devour both me and my horse, if we
attempted to swim over.  When I had got out, the stranger, who had never
before seen a European, seemed wonderfully surprised.  He twice put his
hand to his mouth, exclaiming, in a low tone of voice, “God preserve me!
who is this?” but when he heard me speak the Bambarra tongue, and found
that I was going the same way as himself, he promised to assist me in
crossing the river, the name of which he said was Frina.  He then went a
little way along the bank, and called to some person, who answered from
the other side.  In a short time a canoe with two boys came paddling from
among the reeds.  These boys agreed for fifty kowries to transport me and
my horse over the river, which was effected without much difficulty, and
I arrived in the evening at Taffara, a walled town, and soon discovered
that the language of the natives was improved from the corrupted dialect
of Bambarra to the pure Mandingo.




CHAPTER XVIII.
DESPAIRING THOUGHTS—ARRIVAL AT SIBIDOOLOO.


ON my arrival at Taffara I inquired for the dooty, but was informed that
he had died a few days before my arrival, and that there was at that
moment a meeting of the chief men for electing another, there being some
dispute about the succession.  It was probably owing to this unsettled
state of the town that I experienced such a want of hospitality in it,
for though I informed the inhabitants that I should only remain with them
for one night, and assured them that Mansong had given me some kowries to
pay for my lodging, yet no person invited me to come in, and I was forced
to sit alone under the bentang-tree, exposed to the rain and wind of a
tornado, which lasted with great violence until midnight.  At this time
the stranger who had assisted me in crossing the river paid me a visit,
and observing that I had not found a lodging, invited me to take part of
his supper, which he had brought to the door of his hut; for, being a
guest himself, he could not, without his landlord’s consent, invite me to
come in.  After this I slept upon some wet grass in the corner of a
court.  My horse fared still worse than myself, the corn I purchased
being all expended, and I could not procure a supply.

_August_ 20.—I passed the town of Jaba, and stopped a few minutes at a
village called Somino, where I begged and obtained some coarse food,
which the natives prepare from the husks of corn, and call _boo_.  About
two o’clock I came to the village of Sooha, and endeavoured to purchase
some corn from the dooty, who was sitting by the gate, but without
success.  I then requested a little food by way of charity, but was told
he had none to spare.  Whilst I was examining the countenance of this
inhospitable old man, and endeavouring to find out the cause of the
sullen discontent which was visible in his eye, he called to a slave who
was working in the cornfield at a little distance, and ordered him to
bring his hoe along with him.  The dooty then told him to dig a hole in
the ground, pointing to a spot at no great distance.  The slave, with his
hoe, began to dig a pit in the earth, and the dooty, who appeared to be a
man of very fretful disposition, kept muttering and talking to himself
until the pit was almost finished, when he repeatedly pronounced the
words “_dankatoo_” (“good for nothing”)—“_jankra lemen_” (“a real
plague”)—which expressions I thought could be applied to nobody but
myself; and as the pit had very much the appearance of a grave, I thought
it prudent to mount my horse, and was about to decamp, when the slave,
who had before gone into the village, to my surprise returned with the
corpse of a boy about nine or ten years of age, quite naked.  The <DW64>
carried the body by a leg and an arm, and threw it into the pit with a
savage indifference which I had never before seen.  As he covered the
body with earth, the dooty often expressed himself, “_naphula attiniata_”
(“money lost”), whence I concluded that the boy had been one of his
slaves.

Departing from this shocking scene, I travelled by the side of the river
until sunset, when I came to Koolikorro, a considerable town, and a great
market for salt.  Here I took up my lodging at the house of a Bambarran,
who had formerly been the slave of a Moor, and in that character had
travelled to Aroan, Towdinni, and many other places in the Great Desert;
but turning Mussulman, and his master dying at Jenné, he obtained his
freedom and settled at this place, where he carries on a considerable
trade in salt, cotton cloth, &c.  His knowledge of the world had not
lessened that superstitious confidence in saphies and charms which he had
imbibed in his earlier years, for when he heard that I was a Christian,
he immediately thought of procuring a saphie, and for this purpose
brought out his _walha_, or writing-board, assuring me that he would
dress me a supper of rice if I would write him a saphie to protect him
from wicked men.  The proposal was of too great consequence to me to be
refused.  I therefore wrote the board full, from top to bottom, on both
sides; and my landlord, to be certain of having the whole force of the
charm, washed the writing from the board into a calabash with a little
water, and having said a few prayers over it, drank this powerful
draught; after which, lest a single word should escape, he licked the
board until it was quite dry.  A saphie-writer was a man of too great
consequence to be long concealed; the important information was carried
to the dooty, who sent his son with half a sheet of writing-paper,
desiring me to write him a _naphula saphie_ (a charm to procure wealth).
He brought me, as a present, some meal and milk, and when I had finished
the saphie, and read it to him with an audible voice, he seemed highly
satisfied with his bargain, and promised to bring me in the morning some
milk for my breakfast.  When I had finished my supper of rice and salt, I
laid myself down upon a bullock’s hide, and slept very quietly until
morning, this being the first good meal and refreshing sleep that I had
enjoyed for a long time.

_August_ 21.—At daybreak I departed from Koolikorro, and about noon
passed the villages of Kayoo and Toolumbo.  In the afternoon I arrived at
Marraboo, a large town, and, like Koolikorro, famous for its trade in
salt.  I was conducted to the house of a Kaartan, of the tribe of Jower,
by whom I was well received.  This man had acquired a considerable
property in the slave-trade, and, from his hospitality to strangers, was
called, by way of pre-eminence, _jatee_ (the landlord), and his house was
a sort of public inn for all travellers.  Those who had money were well
lodged, for they always made him some return for his kindness, but those
who had nothing to give were content to accept whatever he thought
proper; and as I could not rank myself among the moneyed men, I was happy
to take up my lodging in the same but with seven poor fellows who had
come from Kancaba in a canoe.  But our landlord sent us some victuals.

_August_ 22—One of the landlord’s servants went with me a little way from
the town to show me what road to take, but, whether from ignorance or
design I know not, he directed me wrong, and I did not discover my
mistake until the day was far advanced, when, coming to a deep creek, I
had some thoughts of turning back, but as by that means I foresaw that I
could not possibly reach Bammakoo before night, I resolved to cross it,
and, leading my horse close to the brink, I went behind him and pushed
him headlong into the water, and then taking the bridle in my teeth, swam
over to the other side.  About four o’clock in the afternoon, having
altered my course from the river towards the mountains, I came to a small
pathway which led to a village called Frookaboo, where I slept.

_August_ 23—Early in the morning I set out for Bammakoo, at which place I
arrived about five o’clock in the afternoon.  I had heard Bammakoo much
talked of as a great market for salt, and I felt rather disappointed to
find it only a middling town, not quite so large as Marraboo; however,
the smallness of its size is more than compensated by the richness of its
inhabitants, for when the Moors bring their salt through Kaarta or
Bambarra, they constantly rest a few days at this place, and the <DW64>
merchants here, who are well acquainted with the value of salt in
different kingdoms, frequently purchase by wholesale, and retail it to
great advantage.  Here I lodged at the house of a Serawoolli <DW64>, and
was visited by a number of Moors.  They spoke very good Mandingo, and
were more civil to me than their countrymen had been.  One of them had
travelled to Rio Grande, and spoke very highly of the Christians.  He
sent me in the evening some boiled rice and milk.  I now endeavoured to
procure information concerning my route to the westward from a slave
merchant who had resided some years on the Gambia.  He gave me some
imperfect account of the distance, and enumerated the names of a great
many places that lay in the way, but withal told me that the road was
impassable at this season of the year: he was even afraid, he said, that
I should find great difficulty in proceeding any farther; as the road
crossed the Joliba at a town about half a day’s journey to the westward
of Bammakoo, and there being no canoes at that place large enough to
receive my horse, I could not possibly get him over for some months to
come.  This was an obstruction of a very serious nature; but as I had no
money to maintain myself even for a few days, I resolved to push on, and
if I could not convey my horse across the river, to abandon him, and swim
over myself.  In thoughts of this nature I passed the night, and in the
morning consulted with my landlord how I should surmount the present
difficulty.  He informed me that one road still remained, which was
indeed very rocky, and scarcely passable for horses, but that if I had a
proper guide over the hills to a town called Sibidooloo, he had no doubt
but with patience and caution I might travel forwards through Manding.  I
immediately applied to the dooty, and was informed that a _jilli kea_
(singing man) was about to depart for Sibidooloo, and would show me the
road over the hills.  With this man, who undertook to be my conductor, I
travelled up a rocky glen about two miles, when we came to a small
village, and here my musical fellow-traveller found out that he had
brought me the wrong road.  He told me that the horse-road lay on the
other side of the hill, and throwing his drum on his back, mounted up the
rocks where, indeed, no horse could follow him, leaving me to admire his
agility, and trace out a road for myself.  As I found it impossible to
proceed, I rode back to the level ground, and directing my course to the
eastward, came about noon to another glen, and discovered a path on which
I observed the marks of horses’ feet.  Following this path I came in a
short time to some shepherds’ huts, where I was informed that I was in
the right road, but that I could not possibly reach Sibidooloo before
night.

A little before sunset I descended on the north-west side of this ridge
of hills, and as I was looking about for a convenient tree under which to
pass the night (for I had no hopes of reaching any town) I descended into
a delightful valley, and soon afterwards arrived at a romantic village
called Kooma.  This village is surrounded by a high wall, and is the sole
property of a Mandingo merchant, who fled hither with his family during a
former war.  The adjacent fields yield him plenty of corn, his cattle
roam at large in the valley, and the rocky hills secure him from the
depredations of war.  In this obscure retreat he is seldom visited by
strangers, but whenever this happens he makes the weary traveller
welcome.  I soon found myself surrounded by a circle of the harmless
villagers.  They asked a thousand questions about my country, and, in
return for my information, brought corn and milk for myself, and grass
for my horse, kindled a fire in the hut where I was to sleep, and
appeared very anxious to serve me.

_August_ 25.—I departed from Kooma, accompanied by two shepherds who were
going towards Sibidooloo.  The road was very steep and rocky, and as my
horse had hurt his feet much in coming from Bammakoo, he travelled slowly
and with great difficulty, for in many places the ascent was so sharp,
and the declivities so great, that if he had made one false step he must
inevitably have been dashed to pieces.  The shepherds being anxious to
proceed, gave themselves little trouble about me or my horse, and kept
walking on at a considerable distance.  It was about eleven o’clock, as I
stopped to drink a little water at a rivulet (my companions being near a
quarter of a mile before me), that I heard some people calling to each
other, and presently a loud screaming, as from a person in great
distress.  I immediately conjectured that a lion had taken one of the
shepherds, and mounted my horse to have a better view of what had
happened.  The noise, however, ceased, and I rode slowly towards the
place from whence I thought it had proceeded, calling out, but without
receiving any answer.  In a little time, however, I perceived one of the
shepherds lying among the long grass near the road, and though I could
see no blood upon him, I concluded he was dead.  But when I came close to
him, he whispered to me to stop, telling me that a party of armed men had
seized upon his companion, and shot two arrows at himself as he was
making his escape.  I stopped to consider what course to take, and
looking round, saw at a little distance a man sitting upon the stump of a
tree.  I distinguished also the heads of six or seven more, sitting among
the grass, with muskets in their hands.  I had now no hopes of escaping,
and therefore determined to ride forward towards them.  As I approached
them, I was in hopes they were elephant-hunters; and by way of opening
the conversation inquired if they had shot anything, but without
returning an answer one of them ordered me to dismount, and then, as if
recollecting himself, waved with his hand for me to proceed.  I
accordingly rode past, and had with some difficulty crossed a deep
rivulet, when I heard somebody holloa, and looking behind, saw those I
had taken for elephant-hunters running after me, and calling out to me to
turn back.  I stopped until they were all come up, when they informed me
that the king of the Foulahs had sent them on purpose to bring me, my
horse, and everything that belonged to me, to Fooladoo, and that
therefore I must turn back and go along with them.  Without hesitating a
moment, I turned round and followed them, and we travelled together
nearly a quarter of a mile without exchanging a word; when, coming to a
dark place in a wood, one of them said in the Mandingo language, “This
place will do,” and immediately snatched my hat from my head.  Though I
was by no means free of apprehension, yet I resolved to show as few signs
of fear as possible, and therefore told them that unless my hat was
returned to me I should proceed no farther.  But before I had time to
receive an answer another drew his knife, and seizing upon a metal button
which remained upon my waistcoat, cut it off and put it into his pocket.
Their intentions were obvious, and I thought that the easier they were
permitted to rob me of everything, the less I had to fear.  I therefore
allowed them to search my pockets without resistance, and examine every
part of my apparel, which they did with the most scrupulous exactness.
But observing that I had one waistcoat under another, they insisted that
I should cast them both off; and at last, to make sure work, they
stripped me quite naked.  Even my half-boots (though the sole of one of
them was tied on to my foot with a broken bridle rein) were minutely
inspected.  Whilst they were examining the plunder, I begged them, with
great earnestness, to return my pocket-compass; but when I pointed it out
to them as it was lying on the ground, one of the banditti, thinking I
was about to take it up, cocked his musket, and swore that he would lay
me dead upon the spot if I presumed to put my hand upon it.  After this,
some of them went away with my horse, and the remainder stood considering
whether they should leave me quite naked, or allow me something to
shelter me from the sun.  Humanity at last prevailed; they returned me
the worst of the two shirts and a pair of trousers; and, as they went
away, one of them threw back my hat, in the crown of which I kept my
memorandums, and this was probably the reason they did not wish to keep
it.  After they were gone, I sat for some time looking round me within
amazement and terror.  Whichever way I turned, nothing appeared but
danger and difficulty.  I saw myself in the midst of a vast wilderness,
in the depth of the rainy season—naked and alone, surrounded by savage
animals, and men still more savage.  I was five hundred miles from the
nearest European settlement.  All these circumstances crowded at once on
my recollection, and I confess that my spirits began to fail me.  I
considered my fate as certain, and that I had no alternative but to lie
down and perish.  The influence of religion, however, aided and supported
me.  I reflected that no human prudence or foresight could possibly have
averted my present sufferings.  I was indeed a stranger in a strange
land, yet I was still under the protecting eye of that Providence who has
condescended to call Himself the stranger’s Friend.  At this moment,
painful as my reflections were, the extraordinary beauty of a small moss
in fructification irresistibly caught my eye.  I mention this to show
from what trifling circumstances the mind will sometimes derive
consolation; for though the whole plant was not larger than the top of
one of my fingers, I could not contemplate the delicate conformation of
its roots, leaves, and capsula without admiration.  Can that Being,
thought I, who planted, watered, and brought to perfection, in this
obscure part of the world, a thing which appears of so small importance,
look within unconcern upon the situation and sufferings of creatures
formed after His own image?  Surely not!  Reflections like these would
not allow me to despair.  I started up, and, disregarding both hunger and
fatigue, travelled forwards, assured that relief was at hand; and I was
not disappointed.  In a short time I came to a small village, at the
entrance of which I overtook the two shepherds who had come with me from
Kooma.  They were much surprised to see me; for they said they never
doubted that the Foulahs, when they had robbed, had murdered me.
Departing from this village, we travelled over several rocky ridges, and
at sunset arrived at Sibidooloo, the frontier town of the kingdom of
Manding.




CHAPTER XIX.
ILLNESS AT KAMALIA AND KINDNESS OF THE NATIVES.


THE town of Sibidooloo is situated in a fertile valley, surrounded with
high, rocky hills.  It is scarcely accessible for horses, and during the
frequent wars between the Bambarrans, Foulahs, and Mandingoes has never
once been plundered by an enemy.  When I entered the town, the people
gathered round me and followed me into the baloon, where I was presented
to the dooty or chief man, who is here called mansa, which usually
signifies king.  Nevertheless, it appeared to me that the government of
Manding was a sort of republic, or rather an oligarchy—every town having
a particular mansa, and the chief power of the state, in the last resort,
being lodged in the assembly of the whole body.  I related to the mansa
the circumstances of my having been robbed of my horse and apparel; and
my story was confirmed by the two shepherds.  He continued smoking his
pipe all the time I was speaking; but I had no sooner finished, than,
taking his pipe from his mouth, and tossing up the sleeve of his cloak
with an indignant air—“Sit down,” said he; “you shall have everything
restored to you; I have sworn it:”—and then turning to an attendant,
“Give the white man,” said he, “a draught of water; and with the first
light of the morning go over the hills, and inform the dooty of Bammakoo
that a poor white man, the king of Bambarra’s stranger, has been robbed
by the king of Fooladoo’s people.”

I little expected, in my forlorn condition, to meet with a man who could
thus feel for my sufferings.  I heartily thanked the mansa for his
kindness, and accepted his invitation to remain with him until the return
of the messenger.  I was conducted into a hut and had some victuals sent
me, but the crowd of people which assembled to see me—all of whom
commiserated my misfortunes, and vented imprecations against the
Foulahs—prevented me from sleeping until past midnight.  Two days I
remained without hearing any intelligence of my horse or clothes; and as
there was at this time a great scarcity of provisions, approaching even
to famine, all over this part of the country, I was unwilling to trespass
any farther on the mansa’s generosity, and begged permission to depart to
the next village.  Finding me very anxious to proceed, he told me that I
might go as far as a town called Wonda, where he hoped I would remain a
few days until I heard some account of my horse, etc.

I departed accordingly on the next morning, the 28th, and stopped at some
small villages for refreshment.  I was presented at one of them with a
dish which I had never before seen.  It was composed of the blossoms or
_antheræ_ of the maize, stewed in milk and water.  It is eaten only in
time of great scarcity.  On the 30th, about noon, I arrived at Wonda, a
small town with a mosque, and surrounded by a high wall.  The mansa, who
was a Mohammedan, acted in two capacities—as chief magistrate of the
town, and schoolmaster to the children.  He kept his school in an open
shed, where I was desired to take up my lodging until some account should
arrive from Sibidooloo concerning my horse and clothes; for though the
horse was of little use to me, yet the few clothes were essential, The
little raiment upon me could neither protect me from the sun by day, nor
the dews and mosquitoes by night: indeed, my shirt was not only worn thin
like a piece of muslin, but withal so very dirty that I was happy to
embrace an opportunity of washing it, which having done, and spread it
upon a bush, I sat down naked in the shade until it was dry.

Ever since the commencement of the rainy season my health had been
greatly on the decline.  I had often been affected with slight paroxysms
of fever; and from the time of leaving Bammakoo the symptoms had
considerably increased.  As I was sitting in the manner described, the
fever returned with such violence that it very much alarmed me; the more
so as I had no medicine to stop its progress, nor any hope of obtaining
that care and attention which my situation required.

I remained at Wonda nine days, during which time I experienced the
regular return of the fever every day.  And though I endeavoured as much
as possible to conceal my distress from my landlord, and frequently lay
down the whole day out of his sight, in a field of corn—conscious how
burdensome I was to him and his family in a time of such great
scarcity—yet I found that he was apprised of my situation; and one
morning, as I feigned to be asleep by the fire, he observed to his wife
that they were likely to find me a very troublesome and chargeable guest;
for that, in my present sickly state, they should be obliged, for the
sake of their good name, to maintain me until I recovered or died.

The scarcity of provisions was certainly felt at this time most severely
by the poor people, as the following circumstance most painfully
convinced me:—Every evening during my stay I observed five or six women
come to the mansa’s house, and receive each of them a certain quantity of
corn.  As I knew how valuable this article was at this juncture, I
inquired of the mansa whether he maintained these poor women from pure
bounty, or expected a return when the harvest should be gathered in.
“Observe that boy,” said he (pointing to a fine child about five years of
age); “his mother has sold him to me for forty days’ provision for
herself and the rest of her family.  I have bought another boy in the
same manner.”  Good God! thought I, what must a mother suffer before she
sells her own child!  I could not get this melancholy subject out of my
mind; and the next night, when the women returned for their allowance, I
desired the boy to point out to me his mother, which he did.  She was
much emaciated, but had nothing cruel or savage in her countenance; and
when she had received her corn, she came and talked to her son with as
much cheerfulness as if he had still been under her care.

_September_ 6.—Two people arrived from Sibidooloo, bringing with them my
horse and clothes; but I found that my pocket-compass was broken to
pieces.  This was a great loss, which I could not repair.

_September_ 7.—As my horse was grazing near the brink of a well the
ground gave way and he fell in.  The well was about ten feet in diameter,
and so very deep that when I saw my horse snorting in the water I thought
it was impossible to save him.  The inhabitants of the village, however,
immediately assembled, and having tied together a number of withes, {58}
they lowered a man down into the well, who fastened those withes round
the body of the horse; and the people, having first drawn up the man,
took hold of the withes and, to my surprise, pulled the horse out with
the greatest facility.  The poor animal was now reduced to a mere
skeleton, and the roads were scarcely passable, being either very rocky,
or else full of mud and water.  I therefore found it impracticable to
travel with him any farther, and was happy to leave him in the hands of
one who, I thought, would take care of him.  I accordingly presented him
to my landlord, and desired him to send my saddle and bridle as a present
to the mansa of Sibidooloo, being the only return I could make him for
having taken so much trouble in procuring my horse and clothes.

I now thought it necessary, sick as I was, to take leave of my hospitable
landlord.  On the morning of September 8th, when I was about to depart,
he presented me with his spear, as a token of remembrance, and a leather
bag to contain my clothes.  Having converted my half-boots into sandals,
I travelled with more ease, and slept that night at a village called
Ballanti.  On the 9th I reached Nemacoo; but the mansa of the village
thought fit to make me sup upon the chameleon’s dish.  By way of apology,
however, he assured me the next morning that the scarcity of corn was
such that he could not possibly allow me any.  I could not accuse him of
unkindness, as all the people actually appeared to be starving.

_September_ 10.—It rained hard all day, and the people kept themselves in
their huts.  In the afternoon I was visited by a <DW64>, named Modi Lemina
Taura, a great trader, who, suspecting my distress, brought me some
victuals, and promised to conduct me to his own house at Kinyeto the day
following.

_September_ 11.—I departed from Nemacoo, and arrived at Kinyeto in the
evening; but having hurt my ankle in the way, it swelled and inflamed so
much that I could neither walk nor set my foot to the ground the next day
without great pain.  My landlord, observing this, kindly invited me to
stop with him a few days, and I accordingly remained at his house until
the 14th, by which the I felt much relieved, and could walk with the help
of a staff.  I now set out, thanking my landlord for his great care and
attention; and being accompanied by a young man who was travelling the
same way, I proceeded for Jerijang, a beautiful and well-cultivated
district, the mansa of which is reckoned the most powerful chief of any
in Manding.

On the 15th I reached Dosita, a large town, where I stayed one day on
account of the rain; but I continued very sickly, and was slightly
delirious in the night.  On the 17th I set out for Mansia, a considerable
town, where small quantities of gold are collected.  The road led over a
high, rocky hill, and my strength and spirits were so much exhausted that
before I could reach the top of the hill I was forced to lie down three
times, being very faint and sickly.  I reached Mansia in the afternoon.
The mansa of this town had the character of being very inhospitable; he,
however, sent me a little corn for my supper, but demanded something in
return; and when I assured him that I had nothing of value in my
possession, he told me (as if in jest) that my white skin should not
defend me if I told him lies.  He then showed me the hut wherein I was to
sleep, but took away my spear, saying that it should be returned to me in
the morning.  This trifling circumstance, when joined to the character I
had heard of the man, made me rather suspicious of him, and I privately
desired one of the inhabitants of the place, who had a bow and a quiver,
to sleep in the same hunt with me.  About midnight I heard somebody
approach the door, and, observing the moonlight strike suddenly into the
hut, I started up and saw a man stepping cautiously over the threshold.
I immediately snatched up the <DW64>’s bow and quiver, the rattling of
which made the man withdraw; and my companion, looking out, assured me
that it was the mansa himself, and advised me to keep awake until the
morning.  I closed the door, and placed a large piece of wood behind it,
and was wondering at this unexpected visit, when somebody pressed so hard
against the door that the <DW64> could scarcely keep it shut; but when I
called to him to open the door, the intruder ran off as before.

_September_ 16.—As soon as it was light the <DW64>, at my request, went to
the mansa’s house and brought away my spear.  He told me that the mansa
was asleep, and lest this inhospitable chief should devise means to
detain me, he advised me to set out before he was awake, which I
immediately did, and about two o’clock reached Kamalia, a small town
situated at the bottom of some rocky hills, where the inhabitants collect
gold in considerable quantities.

On my arrival at Kamalia I was conducted to the house of a bushreen named
Karfa Taura, the brother of him to whose hospitality I was indebted at
Kinyeto.  He was collecting a coffle of slaves, with a view to sell them
to the Europeans on the Gambia as soon as the rains should be over.  I
found him sitting in his baloon, surrounded by several slatees who
proposed to join the coffle.  He was reading to them from an Arabic book,
and inquired with a smile if I understood it.  Being answered in the
negative, he desired one of the slatees to fetch the little curious book
which had been brought from the west country.  On opening this small
volume I was surprised and delighted to find it our Book of Common
Prayer, and Karfa expressed great joy to hear that I could read it; for
some of the slatees, who had seen the Europeans upon the coast, observing
the colour of my skin (which was now become very yellow from sickness),
my long beard, ragged clothes, and extreme poverty, were unwilling to
admit that I was a white man, and told Karfa that they suspected I was
some Arab in disguise.  Karfa, however, perceiving that I could read this
book, had no doubt concerning me, and kindly promised me every assistance
in his power.  At the same time he informed me that it was impossible to
cross the Jallonka wilderness for many months yet to come, as no less
than eight rapid rivers, he said, lay in the way.  He added that he
intended to set out himself for Gambia as soon as the rivers were
fordable and the grass burnt, and advised me to stay and accompany him.
He remarked that when a caravan of the natives could not travel through
the country it was idle for a single white man to attempt it.  I readily
admitted that such an attempt was an act of rashness, but I assured him
that I had no alternative, for, having no money to support myself, I must
either beg my subsistence by travelling from place to place, or perish
for want.  Karfa now looked at me with great earnestness, and inquired if
I could eat the common victuals of the country, assuring me he had never
before seen a white man.  He added that if I would remain with him until
the rains were over, he would give me plenty of victuals in the meantime,
and a hut to sleep in; and that after he had conducted me in safety to
the Gambia, I might then make him what return I thought proper.  I asked
him if the value of one prime slave would satisfy him.  He answered in
the affirmative, and immediately ordered one of the huts to be swept for
my accommodation.  Thus was I delivered, by the friendly care of this
benevolent <DW64>, from a situation truly deplorable.  Distress and famine
pressed hard upon me.  I had before me the gloomy wilds of Jallonkadoo,
where the traveller sees no habitation for five successive days.  I had
observed at a distance the rapid course of the river Kokoro.  I had
almost marked out the place where I was doomed, I thought, to perish,
when this friendly <DW64> stretched out his hospitable hand for my relief.

In the hut which was appropriated for me I was provided with a mat to
sleep on, an earthen jar for holding water, and a small calabash to drink
out of; and Karfa sent me, from his own dwelling, two meals a day, and
ordered his slaves to supply me with firewood and water.  But I found
that neither the kindness of Karfa nor any sort of accommodation could
put a stop to the fever which weakened me, and which became every day
more alarming.  I endeavoured as much as possible to conceal my distress;
but on the third day after my arrival, as I was going with Karfa to visit
some of his friends, I found myself so faint that I could scarcely walk,
and before we reached the place I staggered and fell into a pit, from
which the clay had been taken to build one of the huts.  Karfa
endeavoured to console me with the hopes of a speedy recovery, assuring
me that if I would not walk out in the wet I should soon be well.  I
determined to follow his advice, and confine myself to my hut, but was
still tormented with the fever, and my health continued to be in a very
precarious state for five ensuing weeks.  Sometimes I could crawl out of
the hut, and sit a few hours in the open air; at other times I was unable
to rise, and passed the lingering hours in a very gloomy and solitary
manner.  I was seldom visited by any person except my benevolent
landlord, who came daily to inquire after my health.

When the rains became less frequent, and the country began to grow dry,
the fever left me, but in so debilitated a condition that I could
scarcely stand upright; and it was with great difficulty that I could
carry my mat to the shade of a tamarind-tree, at a short distance, to
enjoy the refreshing smell of the cornfields, and delight my eyes with a
prospect of the country.  I had the pleasure at length to find myself in
a state of convalescence, towards which the benevolent and simple manners
of the <DW64>s, and the perusal of Karfa’s little volume, greatly
contributed.

In the meantime many of the slatees who reside at Kamalia having spent
all their money, and become in a great measure dependent upon Karfa’s
hospitality, beheld me with an eye of envy, and invented many ridiculous
and trifling stories to lessen me in Karfa’s esteem.  And in the
beginning of December a Serawoolli slatee, with five slaves, arrived from
Sego; this man, too, spread a number of malicious reports concerning me,
but Karfa paid no attention to them, and continued to show me the same
kindness as formerly.  As I was one day conversing with the slaves which
this slatee had brought, one of them begged me to give him some victuals.
I told him I was a stranger, and had none to give.  He replied, “I gave
you victuals when you were hungry.  Have you forgot the man who brought
you milk at Karrankalla?  But,” added he with a sigh, “_the irons were
not then upon my legs_!”  I immediately recollected him, and begged some
ground nuts from Karfa to give him, as a return for his former kindness.

In the beginning of December, Karfa proposed to complete his purchase of
slaves, and for this purpose collected all the debts which were owing to
him in his own country; and on the 19th, being accompanied by three
slatees, he departed for Kancaba, a large town on the banks of the Niger
and a great slave-market.  Most of the slaves who are sold at Kancaba
come from Bambarra; for Mansong, to avoid the expense and danger of
keeping all his prisoners at Sego, commonly sends them in small parties
to be sold at the different trading towns; and as Kancaba is much
resorted to by merchants it is always well supplied with slaves, which
are sent thither up the Niger in canoes.  When Karfa departed from
Kamalia he proposed to return in the course of a month, and during his
absence I was left to the care of a good old bushreen, who acted as
schoolmaster to the young people of Kamalia.




CHAPTER XX.
<DW64> CUSTOMS.


THE whole of my route, both in going and returning, having been confined
to a tract of country bounded nearly by the 12th and 15th parallels of
latitude, the reader must imagine that I found the climate in most places
extremely hot, but nowhere did I feel the heat so intense and oppressive
as in the camp at Benowm, of which mention has been made in a former
place.  In some parts, where the country ascends into hills, the air is
at all times, comparatively cool; yet none of the districts which I
traversed could properly be called mountainous.  About the middle of June
the hot and sultry atmosphere is agitated by violent gusts of wind
(called tornadoes), accompanied with thunder and rain.  These usher in
what is denominated “the rainy season,” which continues until the month
of November.  During this time the diurnal rains are very heavy, and the
prevailing winds are from the south-west.  The termination of the rainy
season is likewise attended with violent tornadoes, after which the wind
shifts to the north-east, and continues to blow from that quarter during
the rest of the year.

When the wind sets in from the north-east it produces a wonderful change
in the face of the country.  The grass soon becomes dry and withered, the
rivers subside very rapidly, and many of the trees shed their leaves.
About this period is commonly felt the _harmattan_, a dry and parching
wind blowing from the north-east, and accompanied by a thick smoky haze,
through which the sun appears of a dull red colour.  This wind in passing
over the great desert of Sahara acquires a very strong attraction for
humidity, and parches up everything exposed to its current.  It is,
however, reckoned very salutary, particularly to Europeans, who generally
recover their health during its continuance.  I experienced immediate
relief from sickness, both at Dr. Laidley’s and at Kamalia, during the
harmattan.  Indeed, the air during the rainy season is so loaded with
moisture that clothes, shoes, trunks, and everything that is not close to
the fire becomes damp and mouldy, and the inhabitants may be said to live
in a sort of vapour-bath; but this dry wind braces up the solids, which
were before relaxed, gives a cheerful flow of spirits, and is even
pleasant to respiration.  Its ill effects are, that it produces chaps in
the lips, and afflicts many of the natives with sore eyes.

Whenever the grass is sufficiently dry the <DW64>s set it on fire; but in
Ludamar and other Moorish countries this practice is not allowed, for it
is upon the withered stubble that the Moors feed their cattle until the
return of the rains.  The burning the grass in Manding exhibits a scene
of terrific grandeur.  In the middle of the night I could see the plains
and mountains, as far as my eye could reach, variegated with lines of
fire, and the light, reflected on the sky, made the heavens appear in a
blaze.  In the daytime pillars of smoke were seen in every direction,
while the birds of prey were observed hovering round the conflagration,
and pouncing down upon the snakes, lizards, and other reptiles which
attempted to escape from the flames.  This annual burning is soon
followed by a fresh and sweet verdure, and the country is thereby
rendered more healthful and pleasant.

Of the most remarkable and important of the vegetable productions mention
has already been made; and they are nearly the same in all the districts
through which I passed.  It is observable, however, that although many
species of the edible roots which grow in the West India Islands are
found in Africa, yet I never saw, in any part of my journey, either the
sugar-cane, the coffee, or the cocoa-tree, nor could I learn, on inquiry,
that they were known to the natives.  The pine-apple and the thousand
other delicious fruits which the industry of civilised man (improving the
bounties of nature) has brought to so great perfection in the tropical
climates of America, are here equally unknown.  I observed, indeed, a few
orange and banana trees near the month of the Gambia, but whether they
were indigenous, or were formerly planted there by some of the white
traders, I could not positively learn.  I suspect that they were
originally introduced by the Portuguese.

Concerning property in the soil, it appeared to me that the lands in
native woods were considered as belonging to the king, or (where the
government was not monarchical) to the state.  When any individual of
free condition had the means of cultivating more land than he actually
possessed, he applied to the chief man of the district, who allowed him
an extension of territory, on condition of forfeiture if the lands were
not brought into cultivation by a given period.  The condition being
fulfilled, the soil became vested in the possessor, and, for ought that
appeared to me, descended his heirs.

The population, however, considering the extent and fertility of the
soil, and the ease with which lands are obtained, is not very great in
the countries which I visited.  I found many extensive and beautiful
districts entirely destitute of inhabitants, and, in general, the borders
of the different kingdoms were either very thinly peopled or entirely
deserted.  Many places are likewise unfavourable to population from being
unhealthful.  The swampy banks of the Gambia, the Senegal, and other
rivers towards the coast, are of this description.  Perhaps it is on this
account chiefly that the interior countries abound more with inhabitants
than the maritime districts; for all the <DW64> nations that fell under my
observation, though divided into a number of petty independent states,
subsist chiefly by the same means, live nearly in the same temperature,
and possess a wonderful similarity of disposition.  The Mandingoes, in
particular, are a very gentle race, cheerful in their dispositions,
inquisitive, credulous, simple, and fond of flattery.  Perhaps the most
prominent defect in their character was that insurmountable propensity,
which the reader must have observed to prevail in all classes of them, to
steal from me the few effects I was possessed of.  For this part of their
conduct no complete justification can be offered, because theft is a
crime in their own estimation; and it must be observed that they are not
habitually and generally guilty of it towards each other.

On the other hand, as some counterbalance to this depravity in their
nature, allowing it to be such, it is impossible for me to forget the
disinterested charity and tender solicitude with which many of these poor
heathens (from the sovereign of Sego to the poor women who received me at
different times into their cottages when I was perishing of hunger)
sympathised with me in my sufferings, relieved my distresses, and
contributed to my safety.  This acknowledgment, however, is perhaps more
particularly due to the female part of the nation.  Among the men, as the
reader must have seen, my reception, though generally kind, was sometimes
otherwise.  It varied according to the various tempers of those to whom I
made application.  The hardness of avarice in some, and the blindness of
bigotry in others, had closed up the avenues to compassion; but I do not
recollect a single instance of hard-heartedness towards me in the women.
In all my wanderings and wretchedness I found them uniformly kind and
compassionate; and I can truly say, as my predecessor Mr. Ledyard has
eloquently said before me, “To a woman I never addressed myself in the
language of decency and friendship without receiving a decent and
friendly answer.  If I was hungry or thirsty, wet or sick, they did not
hesitate, like the men, to perform a generous action.  In so free and so
kind a manner did they contribute to my relief, that if I was dry, I
drank the sweetest draught, and if hungry, I ate the coarsest morsel with
a double relish.”

It is surely reasonable to suppose that the soft and amiable sympathy of
nature, which was thus spontaneously manifested towards me in my
distress, is displayed by these poor people, as occasion requires, much
more strongly towards persons of their own nation and neighbourhood, and
especially when the objects of their compassion are endeared to them by
the ties of consanguinity.  Accordingly the maternal affection (neither
suppressed by the restraints nor diverted by the solicitudes of civilised
life) is everywhere conspicuous among them, and creates a correspondent
return of tenderness in the child.  An illustration of this has been
already given.  “Strike me,” said my attendant, “but do not curse my
mother.”  The same sentiment I found universally to prevail, and observed
in all parts of Africa that the greatest affront which could be offered
to a <DW64> was to reflect on her who gave him birth.

It is not strange that this sense of filial duty and affection among the
<DW64>s should be less ardent towards the father than the mother.  The
system of polygamy, while it weakens the father’s attachment by dividing
it among the children of different wives, concentrates all the mother’s
jealous tenderness to one point—the protection of her own offspring.  I
perceived with great satisfaction, too, that the maternal solicitude
extended, not only to the growth and security of the person, but also, in
a certain degree, to the improvement of the mind of the infant; for one
of the first lessons in which the Mandingo women instruct their children
is _the practice of truth_.  The reader will probably recollect the case
of the unhappy mother whose son was murdered by the Moorish banditti at
Funingkedy.  Her only consolation in her uttermost distress was the
reflection that the poor boy, in the course of his blameless life, _had
never told a lie_.  Such testimony from a fond mother on such an occasion
must have operated powerfully on the youthful part of the surrounding
spectators.  It was at once a tribute of praise to the deceased and a
lesson to the living.

The <DW64> women suckle their children until they are able to walk of
themselves.  Three years’ nursing is not uncommon, and during this period
the husband devotes his whole attention to his other wives.  To this
practice it is owing, I presume, that the family of each wife is seldom
very numerous.  Few women have more than five or six children.  As soon
as an infant is able to walk it is permitted to run about with great
freedom.  The mother is not over solicitous to preserve it from slight
falls and other trifling accidents.  A little practice soon enables a
child to take care of itself, and experience acts the part of a nurse.
As they advance in life the girls are taught to spin cotton and to beat
corn, and are instructed in other domestic duties; and the boys are
employed in the labours of the field.  Both sexes, whether bushreens or
<DW5>s, on attaining the age of puberty, are circumcised.  This painful
operation is not considered by the <DW5>s so much in the light of a
religious ceremony as a matter of convenience and utility.  They have,
indeed, a superstitious notion that it contributes to render the marriage
state prolific.  The operation is performed upon several young people at
the same time, all of whom are exempted from every sort of labour for two
months afterwards.  During this period they form a society called
_solimana_.  They visit the towns and villages in the neighbourhood,
where they dance and sing, and are well treated by the inhabitants.  I
had frequently, in the course of my journey, observed parties of this
description, but they were all males.  I had, however, an opportunity of
seeing a female _solimana_ at Kamalia.

In the course of this celebration it frequently happens that some of the
young women get married.  If a man takes a fancy to any one of them, it
is not considered as absolutely necessary that he should make an overture
to the girl herself.  The first object is to agree with the parents
concerning the recompense to be given them for the loss of the company
and services of their daughter.  The value of two slaves is a common
price, unless the girl is thought very handsome, in which case the
parents will raise their demand very considerably.  If the lover is rich
enough, and willing to give the sum demanded, he then communicates his
wishes to the damsel; but her consent is by no means necessary to the
match, for if the parents agree to it and eat a few _kolla_-nuts, which
are represented by the suitor as an earnest of the bargain, the young
lady must either have the man of their choice or continue unmarried, for
she cannot afterwards be given to another.  If the parents should attempt
it, the lover is then authorised by the laws of the country to seize upon
the girl as his slave.  When the day for celebrating the nuptials is
fixed on, a select number of people are invited to be present at the
wedding—a bullock or goat is killed, and great plenty of victuals is
dressed for the occasion.  As soon as it is dark the bride is conducted
into a hut, where a company of matrons assist in arranging the
wedding-dress, which is always white cotton, and is put on in such a
manner as to conceal the bride from head to foot.  Thus arrayed, she is
seated upon a mat in the middle of the floor, and the old women place
themselves in a circle round her.  They then give her a series of
instructions, and point out, with great propriety, what ought to be her
future conduct in life.  This scene of instruction, however, is
frequently interrupted by girls, who amuse the company with songs and
dances, which are rather more remarkable for their gaiety than delicacy.
While the bride remains within the hut with the women the bridegroom
devotes his attention to the guests of both sexes, who assemble without
doors, and by distributing among them small presents of kolla-nuts, and
seeing that every one partakes of the good cheer which is provided, he
contributes much to the general hilarity of the evening.  When supper is
ended, the company spend the remainder of the night in singing and
dancing, and seldom separate until daybreak.  About midnight the bride is
privately conducted by the women into the hut which is to be her future
residence, and the bridegroom, upon a signal given, retires from his
company.

The <DW64>s, as hath been frequently observed, whether Mohammedan or
pagan, allow a plurality of wives.  The Mohammedans alone are by their
religion confined to four, and as the husband commonly pays a great price
for each, he requires from all of them the utmost deference and
submission, and treats them more like hired servants than companions.
They have, however, the management of domestic affairs, and each in
rotation is mistress of the household, and has the care of dressing the
victuals, overlooking the female slaves, etc.  But though the African
husbands are possessed of great authority over their wives I did not
observe that in general they treat them with cruelty, neither did I
perceive that mean jealousy in their dispositions which is so prevalent
among the Moors.  They permit their wives to partake of all public
diversions, and this indulgence is seldom abused, for though the <DW64>
women are very cheerful and frank in their behaviour, they are by no
means given to intrigue—I believe that instances of conjugal infidelity
are not common.  When the wives quarrel among themselves—a circumstance
which, from the nature of their situation, must frequently happen—the
husband decides between them, and sometimes finds it necessary to
administer a little corporal chastisement before tranquillity can be
restored.  But if any one of the ladies complains to the chief of the
town that her husband has unjustly punished her, and shown an undue
partiality to some other of his wives, the affair is brought to a public
trial.  In these palavers, however, which are conducted chiefly by
married men, I was informed that the complaint of the wife is not always
considered in a very serious light, and the complainant herself is
sometimes convicted of strife and contention and left without remedy.  If
she murmurs at the decision of the court the magic rod of Mumbo Jumbo
soon puts an end to the business.

The children of the Mandingoes are not always named after their
relations, but frequently in consequence of some remarkable occurrence.
Thus my landlord at Kamalia was called _Karfa_, a word signifying _to
replace_, because he was born shortly after the death of one of his
brothers.  Other names are descriptive of good or bad qualities—as
_Modi_, a good man; _Fadibba_, father of the town, etc.  Indeed, the very
names of their towns have something descriptive in them, as _Sibidooloo_,
the town of ciboa-trees; _Kenneyeto_, victuals here; _Dosita_, lift your
spoon.  Others appear to be given by way of reproach—as _Bammakoo_, wash
a crocodile; _Karrankalla_, no cup to drink from, etc.  A child is named
when it is seven or eight days old.  The ceremony commences by shaving
the infant’s head; and a dish culled _dega_, made of pounded corn and
sour milk, is prepared for the guests.  If the parents are rich, a sheep
or goat is commonly added.  The feast is called _ding koon lee_ (the
child’s head-shaving).  During my stay at Kamalia I was present at four
different feasts of this kind, and the ceremony was the same in each,
whether the child belonged to a bushreen or a <DW5>.  The schoolmaster,
who officiated as priest on those occasions, and who is necessarily a
bushreen, first said a long prayer over the dega, during which every
person present took hold of the brim of the calabash with his right hand.
After this the schoolmaster took the child in his arms and said a second
prayer, in which he repeatedly solicited the blessing of God upon the
child and upon all the company.  When this prayer was ended he whispered
a few sentences in the child’s ear and spat three times in its face,
after which he pronounced its name aloud, and returned the infant to the
mother. {80}  This part of the ceremony being ended, the father of the
child divided the dega into a number of balls, one of which he
distributed to every person present; and inquiry was then made if any
person in the town was dangerously sick, it being usual in such cases to
send the party a large portion of the dega, which is thought to possess
great medical virtues.

Among the <DW64>s every individual, besides his own proper name, has
likewise a _kontong_, or surname, to denote the family or clan to which
he belongs.  Some of these families are very numerous and powerful.  It
is impossible to enumerate the various _kontongs_ which are found in
different parts of the country, though the knowledge of many of them is
of great service to the traveller; for as every <DW64> plumes himself upon
the importance or the antiquity of his clan, he is much flattered when he
is addressed by his kontong.

Salutations among the <DW64>s to each other when they meet are always
observed, but those in most general use among the <DW5>s are, “_Abbe
haeretto_,” “’_E ning seni_,” “_Anawari_,” etc., all of which have nearly
the same meaning, and signify “Are you well?” or to that effect.  There
are likewise salutations which are used at different times of the day, as
“_E ning somo_” (“Good morning”), etc.  The general answer to all
salutations is to repeat the kontong of the person who salutes, or else
to repeat the salutation itself, first pronouncing the word _marhaba_
(“My friend”).




CHAPTER XXI.
RELIGIOUS BELIEFS AND INDUSTRIES OF THE MANDINGOES.


THE Mandingoes and, I believe, the <DW64>s in general, have no artificial
method of dividing time.  They calculate the years by the number of
_rainy seasons_.  They portion the year into _moons_, and reckon the days
by so many suns.  The day they divide into morning, midday, and evening;
and farther subdivide it, when necessary, by pointing to the sun’s place
in the heavens.  I frequently inquired of some of them what became of the
sun during the night, and whether we should see the same sun, or a
different one, in the morning; but I found that they considered the
question as very childish.  The subject appeared to them as placed beyond
the reach of human investigation—they had never indulged a conjecture,
nor formed any hypothesis, about the matter.  The moon, by varying her
form, has more attracted their attention.  On the first appearance of the
new moon, which they look upon to be newly created, the pagan natives, as
well as Mohammedans, say a short prayer; and this seems to be the only
visible adoration which the <DW5>s offer up to the Supreme Being.  This
prayer is pronounced in a whisper, the party holding up his hands before
his face: its purport (as I have been assured by many different people)
is to return thanks to God for His kindness through the existence of the
past moon, and to solicit a continuation of His favour during that of the
new one.  At the conclusion they spit upon their hands and rub them over
their faces.  This seems to be nearly the same ceremony which prevailed
among the heathens in the days of Job. {82}

Great attention, however, is paid to the changes of this luminary in its
monthly course, and it is thought very unlucky to begin a journey, or any
other work of consequence, in the last quarter.  An eclipse, whether of
the sun or moon, is supposed to be effected by witchcraft.  The stars are
very little regarded; and the whole study of astronomy appears to them as
a useless pursuit, and attended to by such persons only as deal in magic.

Their notions of geography are equally puerile.  They imagine that the
world is an extended plain, the termination of which no eye has
discovered—it being, they say, overhung with clouds and darkness.  They
describe the sea as a large river of salt water, on the farther shore of
which is situated a country called _Tobaubo doo_ (the land of the white
people).  At a distance from Tobaubo doo they describe another country,
which they allege as inhabited by cannibals of gigantic size, called
_komi_.  This country they call _Jong sang doo_ (the land where the
slaves are sold).  But of all countries in the world their own appears to
them as the best, and their own people as the happiest, and they pity the
fate of other nations, who have been placed by Providence in less fertile
and less fortunate districts.

Some of the religious opinions of the <DW64>s, though blended with the
weakest credulity and superstition, are not unworthy attention.  I have
conversed with all ranks and conditions upon the subject of their faith,
and can pronounce, without the smallest shadow of doubt, that the belief
of one God and of a future state of reward and punishment is entire and
universal among them.  It is remarkable, however, that except on the
appearance of a new moon, as before related, the pagan natives do not
think it necessary to offer up prayers and supplications to the Almighty.
They represent the Deity, indeed, as the creator and preserver of all
things, but in general they consider Him as a being so remote and of so
exalted a nature that it is idle to imagine the feeble supplications of
wretched mortals can reverse the decrees and change the purposes of
unerring wisdom.  If they are asked for what reason then do they offer up
a prayer on the appearance of the new moon, the answer is, that custom
has made it necessary, they do it because their fathers did it before
them.  Such is the blindness of unassisted nature!  The concerns of this
world, they believe, are committed by the Almighty to the superintendence
and direction of subordinate spirits, over whom they suppose that certain
magical ceremonies have great influence.  A white fowl suspended to the
branch of a particular tree, a snake’s head or a few handfuls of fruit
are offerings which ignorance and superstition frequently present, to
deprecate the wrath, or to conciliate the favour, of these tutelary
agents.  But it is not often that the <DW64>s make their religious
opinions the subject of conversation; when interrogated in particular
concerning their ideas of a future state, they express themselves with
great reverence, but endeavour to shorten the discussion by observing,
“_Mo o mo inta allo_” (“No man knows anything about it”).  They are
content, they say, to follow the precepts and examples of their
forefathers through the various vicissitudes of life, and when this world
presents no objects of enjoyment or of comfort they seem to look with
anxiety towards another, which they believe will be better suited to
their natures, but concerning which they are far from indulging vain and
delusive conjectures.

The Mandingoes seldom attain extreme old age.  At forty most of them
become grey-haired and covered with wrinkles, and but few of them survive
the age of fifty-five or sixty.  They calculate the years of their lives,
as I have already observed, by the number of rainy seasons (there being
but one such in the year), and distinguish each year by a particular
name, founded on some remarkable occurrence which happened in that year.
Thus they say the year of the _Farbanna_ war—the year of the _Kaarta
war_—the year on which _Gadou was plundered_, etc., etc.; and I have no
doubt that the year 1796 will in many places be distinguished by the name
of _tobaubo tambi sang_ (the year the white man passed), as such an
occurrence would naturally form an epoch in their traditional history.

But notwithstanding that longevity is uncommon among them, it appeared to
me that their diseases are but few in number.  Their simple diet and
active way of life preserve them from many of those disorders which
embitter the days of luxury and idleness.  Fevers and fluxes are the most
common and the most fatal.  For these they generally apply saphies to
different parts of the body, and perform a great many other superstitious
ceremonies—some of which are indeed well calculated to inspire the
patient with the hope of recovery, and divert his mind from brooding over
his own danger—but I have sometimes observed among them a more systematic
mode of treatment.  On the first attack of a fever, when the patient
complains of cold, he is frequently placed in a sort of vapour-bath.
This is done by spreading branches of the _nauclea orientalis_ upon hot
wood embers, and laying the patient upon them, wrapped up in a large
cotton cloth.  Water is then sprinkled upon the branches, which,
descending to the hot embers, soon covers the patient with a cloud of
vapour, in which he is allowed to remain until the embers are almost
extinguished.  This practice commonly produces a profuse perspiration,
and wonderfully relieves the sufferer.

For the dysentery they use the bark of different trees reduced to powder
and mixed with the patient’s food; but this practice is in general very
unsuccessful.

The other diseases which prevail among the <DW64>s are the _yaws_, the
_elephantiasis_, and a _leprosy_ of the very worst kind.  This
last-mentioned complaint appears at the beginning in scurfy spots upon
different parts of the body, which finally settle upon the hands or feet,
where the skin becomes withered, and, cracks in many places.  At length
the ends of the fingers swell and ulcerate, the discharge is acrid and
fetid, the nails drop off, and the bones of the fingers become carious,
and separate at the joints.  In this manner the disease continues to
spread, frequently until the patient loses all his fingers and toes.
Even the hands and feet are sometimes destroyed by this inveterate
malady, to which the <DW64>s give the name of _balla ou_ (incurable).

The _guinea worm_ is likewise very common in certain places, especially
at the commencement of the rainy season.  The <DW64>s attribute this
disease, which has been described by many writers, to bad water, and
allege that the people who drink from wells are more subject to it than
those who drink from streams.  To the same cause they attribute the
swelling of the glands of the neck (_goitres_), which are very common in
some parts of Bambarra.  I observed also, in the interior countries, a
few instances of simple _gonorrhœa_, but never the confirmed _lues_.  On
the whole, it appeared to me that the <DW64>s are better surgeons than
physicians.  I found them very successful in their management of
fractures and dislocations, and their splints and bandages are simple and
easily removed.  The patient is laid upon a soft mat, and the fractured
limb is frequently bathed with cold water.  All abscesses they open with
the actual cautery, and the dressings are composed of either soft leaves,
shea butter, or cow’s dung, as the case seems in their judgment to
require.  Towards the coast, where a supply of European lancets can be
procured, they sometimes perform phlebotomy, and in cases of local
inflammation a curious sort of cupping is practised.  This operation is
performed by making incisions in the part, and applying to it a bullock’s
horn with a small hole in the end.  The operator then takes a piece of
bee’s wax in his mouth, and, putting his lips to the hole, extracts the
air from the horn, and by a dexterous use of his tongue stops up the hole
with the wax.  This method is found to answer the purpose, and in general
produces a plentiful discharge.

When a person of consequence dies, the relations and neighbours meet
together and manifest their sorrow by loud and dismal howlings.  A
bullock or goat is killed for such persons as come to assist at the
funeral, which generally takes place in the evening of the same day on
which the party died.  The <DW64>s have no appropriate burial-places, and
frequently dig the grave in the floor of the deceased’s hut, or in the
shade of a favourite tree.  The body is dressed in white cotton, and
wrapped up in a mat.  It is carried to the grave in the dusk of the
evening by the relations.  If the grave is without the walls of the town
a number of prickly bushes are laid upon it to prevent the wolves from
digging up the body; but I never observed that any stone was placed over
the grave as a monument or memorial.

Of their music and dances some account has incidentally been given in
different parts of my journal.  On the first of these heads I have now to
add a list of their musical instruments, the principal of which are—the
_koonting_, a sort of guitar with three strings; the _korro_, a large
harp with eighteen strings; the _simbing_, a small harp with seven
strings; the _balafou_, an instrument composed of twenty pieces of hard
wood of different lengths, with the shells of gourds hung underneath to
increase the sound; the _tangtang_, a drum open at the lower end; and,
lastly, the _tabala_, a large drum, commonly used to spread an alarm
through the country.  Besides these, they make use of small flutes,
bow-strings, elephants’ teeth and bells; and at all their dances and
concerts _clapping of hands_ appears to constitute a necessary part of
the chorus.

With the love of music is naturally connected a taste for poetry; and
fortunately for the poets of Africa they are in a great measure exempted
from that neglect and indigence which in more polished countries commonly
attend the votaries of the Muses.  They consist of two classes; the most
numerous are the _singing men_, called _jilli kea_, mentioned in a former
part of my narrative.  One or more of these may be found in every town.
They sing extempore songs in honour of their chief men, or any other
persons who are willing to give “solid pudding for empty praise.”  But a
nobler part of their office is to recite the historical events of their
country; hence in war they accompany the soldiers to the field, in order,
by reciting the great actions of their ancestors, to awaken in them a
spirit of glorious emulation.  The other class are devotees of the
Mohammedan faith, who travel about the country singing devout hymns and
performing religious ceremonies, to conciliate the favour of the
Almighty, either in averting calamity or insuring success to any
enterprise.  Both descriptions of these itinerant bards are much employed
and respected by the people, and very liberal contributions are made for
them.

The usual diet of the <DW64>s is somewhat different in different
districts; in general the people of free condition breakfast about
daybreak upon gruel made of meal and water, with a little of the fruit of
the tamarind to give it an acid taste.  About two o’clock in the
afternoon a sort of hasty pudding, with a little shea butter, is the
common meal; but the supper constitutes the principal repast, and is
seldom ready before midnight.  This consists almost universally of
kouskous, with a small portion of animal food or shea butter mixed with
it.  In eating, the <DW5>s, as well as Mohammedans, use the right hand
only.

The beverages of the pagan <DW64>s are beer and mead, of each of which
they frequently drink to excess.  The Mohammedan convert drinks nothing
but water.  The natives of all descriptions take snuff and smoke tobacco;
their pipes are made of wood, with an earthen bowl of curious
workmanship.  But in the interior countries the greatest of all luxuries
is salt.  It would appear strange to a European to see a child suck a
piece of rock salt as if it were sugar.  This, however, I have frequently
seen, although, in the inland parts, the poorer class of inhabitants are
so very rarely indulged with this precious article that to say _a man ate
salt with his victuals_ is the same as saying _he is a very rich man_.  I
have myself suffered great inconvenience from the scarcity of this
article.  The long use of vegetable food creates so painful a longing for
salt that no words can sufficiently describe it.

The <DW64>s in general, and the Mandingoes in particular, are considered
by the whites on the coast as an indolent and inactive people—I think
without reason.  The nature of the climate is, indeed, unfavourable to
great exertion; but surely a people cannot justly be denominated
habitually indolent whose wants are supplied, not by the spontaneous
productions of nature, but by their own exertions.  Few people work
harder, when occasion requires, than the Mandingoes; but not having many
opportunities of turning to advantage the superfluous produce of their
labour, they are content with cultivating as much ground only as is
necessary for their own support.  The labours of the field give them
pretty full employment during the rains; and in the dry season the people
who live in the vicinity of large rivers employ themselves in fishing.
The fish are taken in wicker baskets or with small cotton nets, and are
preserved by being first dried in the sun and afterwards rubbed with shea
butter, to prevent them from contracting fresh moisture.  Others of the
natives employ themselves in hunting.  Their weapons are bows and arrows;
but the arrows in common use are not poisoned. {92}  They are very
dexterous marksmen, and will hit a lizard on a tree, or any other small
object, at an amazing distance.  They likewise kill guinea-fowls,
partridges, and pigeons, but never on the wing.  While the men are
occupied in these pursuits the women are very diligent in manufacturing
cotton cloth.  They prepare the cotton for spinning by laying it in small
quantities at a time upon a smooth stone or piece of wood, and rolling
the seeds out with a thick iron spindle; and they spin it with the
distaff.  The thread is not fine, but well twisted, and makes a very
durable cloth.  A woman with common diligence will spin from six to nine
garments of this cloth in one year, which, according to its fineness,
will sell for a minkalli and a half or two minkallies each. {93}  The
weaving is performed by the men.  The loom is made exactly upon the same
principle as that of Europe, but so small and narrow that the web is
seldom more than four inches broad.  The shuttle is of the common
construction, but as the thread is coarse the chamber is somewhat larger
than the European.

The women dye this cloth of a rich and lasting blue colour by the
following simple process:—The leaves of the indigo, when fresh gathered,
are pounded in a wooden mortar, and mixed in a large earthen jar with a
strong ley of wood-ashes; chamber-ley is sometimes added.  The cloth is
steeped in this mixture, and allowed to remain until it has acquired the
proper shade.  In Kaarta and Ludamar, where the indigo is not plentiful,
they collect the leaves and dry them in the sun; and when they wish to
use them they reduce a sufficient quantity to powder and mix it with the
ley, as before mentioned.  Either way the colour is very beautiful, with
a fine purple gloss, and equal in my opinion to the best Indian or
European blue.  This cloth is cut into various pieces and sewed into
garments with needles of the natives’ own making.

As the arts of weaving, dyeing, sewing, etc., may easily be acquired,
those who exercise them are not considered in Africa as following any
particular profession, for almost every slave can weave, and every boy
can sew.  The only artists who are distinctly acknowledged as such by the
<DW64>s, and who value themselves on exercising appropriate and peculiar
trades, are the manufacturers of _leather_ and of _iron_.  The first of
these are called _karrankea_ (or, as the word is sometimes pronounced,
_gaungay_).  They are to be found in almost every town, and they
frequently travel through the country in the exercise of their calling.
They tan and dress leather with very great expedition, by steeping the
hide first in a mixture of wood-ashes and water until it parts with the
hair, and afterwards by using the pounded leaves of a tree called _goo_
as an astringent.  They are at great pains to render the hide as soft and
pliant as possible, by rubbing it frequently between their hands and
beating it upon a stone.  The hides of bullocks are converted chiefly
into sandals, and therefore require less care in dressing than the skins
of sheep and goats, which are used for covering quivers and saphies, and
in making sheaths for swords and knives, belts, pockets, and a variety of
ornaments.  These skins commonly are dyed of a red or yellow colour—the
red by means of millet stalks reduced to powder; and the yellow by the
root of a plant the name of which I have forgotten.

The manufacturers in iron are not so numerous as the _karrankeas_, but
they appear to have studied their business with equal diligence.  The
<DW64>s on the coast being cheaply supplied with iron from the European
traders, never attempt the manufacturing of this article themselves; but
in the inland parts the natives smelt this useful metal in such
quantities not only to supply themselves from it with all necessary
weapons and instruments, but even to make it a article of commerce with
some of the neighbouring states.  During my stay at Kamalia there was a
smelting furnace at a short distance from the hut where I lodged, and the
owner and his workmen made no secret about the manner of conducting the
operation, and readily allowed me to examine the furnace, and assist them
in breaking the ironstone.  The furnace was a circular tower of clay,
about ten feet high and three feet in diameter, surrounded in two places
with withes, to prevent the clay from cracking and falling to pieces by
the violence of the heat.  Round the lower part, on a level with the
ground—but not so low as the bottom of the furnace, which was somewhat
concave—were made seven openings, into every one of which were placed
three tubes of clay, and the openings again plastered up in such a manner
that no air could enter the furnace but through the tubes, by the opening
and shutting of which they regulated the fire.  These tubes were formed
by plastering a mixture of clay and grass round a smooth roller of wood,
which, as soon as the clay began to harden, was withdrawn, and the tube
left to dry in the sun.  The ironstone which I saw was very heavy, of a
dull red colour with greyish specks; it was broken into pieces about the
size of a hen’s egg.  A bundle of dry wood was first put into the
furnace, and covered with a considerable quantity of charcoal, which was
brought, ready burnt, from the woods.  Over this was laid a stratum of
ironstone, and then another of charcoal, and so on, until the furnace was
quite full.  The fire was applied through one of the tubes, and blown for
some time with bellows made of goats’ skins.  The operation went on very
slowly at first, and it was some hours before the flame appeared above
the furnace; but after this it burnt with great violence all the first
night, and the people who attended put in at times more charcoal.  On the
day following the fire was not so fierce, and on the second night some of
the tubes were withdrawn and the air allowed to have freer access to the
furnace; but the heat was still very great, and a bluish flame rose some
feet above the top of the furnace.  On the third day from the
commencement of the operation, all the tubes were taken out, the ends of
many of them being vitrified with the heat; but the metal was not removed
until some days afterwards, when the whole was perfectly cool.  Part of
the furnace was then taken down, and the iron appeared in the form of a
large irregular mass, with pieces of charcoal adhering to it.  It was
sonorous; and when any portion was broken off, the fracture exhibited a
granulated appearance, like broken steel.  The owner informed me that
many parts of this cake were useless, but still there was good iron
enough to repay him for his trouble.  This iron, or rather steel, is
formed into various instruments by being repeatedly heated in a forge,
the heat of which is urged by a pair of double bellows of a very simple
construction, being made of two goats’ skins the tubes from which unite
before they enter the forge, and supply a constant and very regular
blast.  The hammer, forceps, and anvil are all very simple, and the
workmanship (particularly in the formation of knives and spears) is not
destitute of merit.  The iron, indeed, is hard and brittle, and requires
much labour before it can be made to answer the purpose.

Such is the chief information I obtained concerning the present state of
arts and manufactures in those regions of Africa which I explored in my
journey.  I might add, though it is scarce worthy observation, that in
Bambarra and Kaarta the natives make very beautiful baskets, hats, and
other articles, both for use and ornament, from rushes, which they stain
of different colours; and they contrive also to cover their calabashes
with interwoven cane, dyed in the same manner.




CHAPTER XXII.
WAR AND SLAVERY.


A state of subordination and certain inequalities of rank and condition
are inevitable in every stage of civil society; but when the
subordination is carried to so great a length that the persons and
services of one part of the community are entirely at the disposal of
another part, it may then be denominated a state of slavery, and in this
condition of life a great body of the <DW64> inhabitants of Africa have
continued from the most early period of their history, with this
aggravation, that their children are born to no other inheritance.

The slaves in Africa, I suppose, are nearly in the proportion of three to
one to the freemen.  They claim no reward for their services except food
and clothing, and are treated with kindness or severity, according to the
good or bad disposition of their masters.  Custom, however, has
established certain rules with regard to the treatment of slaves, which
it is thought dishonourable to violate.  Thus the domestic slaves, or
such as are born in a man’s own house, are treated with more lenity than
those which are purchased with money.  The authority of the master over
the domestic slave, as I have elsewhere observed, extends only to
reasonable correction; for the master cannot sell his domestic, without
having first brought him to a public trial before the chief men of the
place.  But these restrictions on the power of the master extend not to
the care of prisoners taken in war, nor to that of slaves purchased with
money.  All these unfortunate beings are considered as strangers and
foreigners, who have no right to the protection of the law, and may be
treated with severity, or sold to a stranger, according to the pleasure
of their owners.  There are, indeed, regular markets, where slaves of
this description are bought and sold, and the value of a slave, in the
eye of an African purchaser, increases in proportion to his distance from
his native kingdom: for when slaves are only a few days’ journey from the
place of their nativity they frequently effect their escape; but when one
or more kingdoms intervene, escape being more difficult, they are more
readily reconciled to their situation.  On this account the unhappy slave
is frequently transferred from one dealer to another, until he has lost
all hopes of returning to his native kingdom.  The slaves which are
purchased by the Europeans on the coast are chiefly of this description.
A few of them are collected in the petty wars, hereafter to be described,
which take place near the coast, but by far the greater number are
brought down in large caravans from the inland countries, of which many
are unknown, even by name, to the Europeans.  The slaves which are thus
brought from the interior may be divided into two distinct classes—first,
such as were slaves from their birth, having been born of enslaved
mothers; secondly, such as were born free, but who afterwards, by
whatever means, became slaves.  Those of the first description are by far
the most numerous, for prisoners taken in war (at least such as are taken
in open and declared war, when one kingdom avows hostilities against
another) are generally of this description.  The comparatively small
proportion of free people to the enslaved throughout Africa has already
been noticed: and it must be observed that men of free condition have
many advantages over the slaves, even in war time.  They are in general
better armed, and well mounted, and can either fight or escape with some
hopes of success; but the slaves, who have only their spears and bows,
and of whom great numbers are loaded with baggage, become an easy prey.
Thus when Mansong, king of Bambarra, made war upon Kaarta (as I have
related in a former chapter), he took in one day nine hundred prisoners,
of which number not more than seventy were freemen.  This account I
received from Daman Jumma, who had thirty slaves at Kemmoo, all of whom
were made prisoners by Mansong.  Again, when a freeman is taken prisoner
his friends will sometimes ransom him by giving two slaves in exchange;
but when a slave is taken, he has no hopes of such redemption.  To these
disadvantages, it is to be added that the slatees, who purchase slaves in
the interior countries and carry them down to the coast for sale,
constantly prefer such as have been in that condition of life from their
infancy, well knowing that these have been accustomed to hunger and
fatigue, and are better able to sustain the hardships of a long and
painful journey than freemen; and on their reaching the coast, if no
opportunity offers of selling them to advantage, they can easily be made
to maintain themselves by their labour; neither are they so apt to
attempt making their escape as those who have once tasted the blessings
of freedom.

Slaves of the second description generally become such by one or other of
the following causes:—1, captivity; 2, famine; 3, insolvency; 4, crimes.
A freeman may, by the established customs of Africa, become a slave by
being taken in war.  War is of all others the most productive source, and
was probably the origin, of slavery; for when one nation had taken from
another a greater number of captives than could be exchanged on equal
terms, it is natural to suppose that the conquerors, finding it
inconvenient to maintain their prisoners, would compel them to labour—at
first, perhaps, only for their own support, but afterwards to support
their masters.  Be this as it may, it is a known fact that prisoners of
war in Africa are the slaves of the conquerors; and when the weak or
unsuccessful warrior begs for mercy beneath the uplifted spear of his
opponent, he gives up at the same time his claim to liberty, and
purchases his life at the expense of his freedom.

In a country divided into a thousand petty states, mostly independent and
jealous of each other, where every freeman is accustomed to arms and fond
of military achievements, where the youth, who has practised the bow and
spear from his infancy, longs for nothing so much as an opportunity to
display his valour, it is natural to imagine that wars frequently
originate from very frivolous provocation.  When one nation is more
powerful than another, pretext is seldom wanting for commencing
hostilities.  Thus the war between Kajaaga and Kasson was occasioned by
the detention of a fugitive slave; that between Bambarra and Kaarta by
the loss of a few cattle.  Other cases of the same nature perpetually
occur in which the folly or mad ambition of their princes and the zeal of
their religious enthusiasts give full employment to the scythe of
desolation.

The wars of Africa are of two kinds, which are distinguished by different
appellations; that species which bears the greatest resemblance to our
European contests is denominated _killi_, a word signifying “to call
out,” because such wars are openly avowed and previously declared.  Wars
of this description in Africa commonly terminate, however, in the course
of a single campaign.  A battle is fought—the vanquished seldom think of
rallying again—the whole inhabitants become panic-struck, and the
conquerors have only to bind the slaves and carry off their plunder and
their victims.  Such of the prisoners as, through age or infirmity, are
unable to endure fatigue, or are found unfit for sale, are considered as
useless, and, I have no doubt, are frequently put to death.  The same
fate commonly awaits a chief or any other person who has taken a very
distinguished part in the war.  And here it may be observed that,
notwithstanding this exterminating system, it is surprising to behold how
soon an African town is rebuilt and repeopled.  The circumstance arises
probably from this: that their pitched battles are few—the weakest know
their own situation, and seek safety in flight.  When their country has
been desolated, and their ruined towns and villages deserted by the
enemy, such of the inhabitants as have escaped the _sword_ and the
_chain_ generally return, though with cautious steps, to the place of
their nativity—for it seems to be the universal wish of mankind to spend
the evening of their days where they passed their infancy.  The poor
<DW64> feels this desire in its full force.  To him no water is sweet but
what is drawn from his own well, and no tree has so cool and pleasant a
shade as the _tabba_ tree {104} of his native village.  When war compels
him to abandon the delightful spot in which he first drew his breath, and
seek for safety in some other kingdom, his time is spent in talking about
the country of his ancestors; and no sooner is peace restored than he
turns his back upon the land of strangers, rebuilds with haste his fallen
walls, and exults to see the smoke ascend from his native village.

The other species of African warfare is distinguished by the appellation
of _tegria_ (plundering, or stealing).  It arises from a sort of
hereditary feud which the inhabitants of one nation or district bear
towards another.  No immediate cause of hostility is assigned, or notice
of attack given, but the inhabitants of each watch every opportunity to
plunder and distress the objects of their animosity by predatory
excursions.  These are very common, particularly about the beginning of
the dry season, when the labour of the harvest is over and provisions are
plentiful.  Schemes of vengeance are then meditated.  The chief man
surveys the number and activity of his vassals as they brandish their
spears at festivals, and, elated with his own importance, turns his whole
thoughts towards revenging some depredation or insult which either he or
his ancestors may have received from a neighbouring state.

Wars of this description are generally conducted with great secrecy.  A
few resolute individuals, headed by some person of enterprise and
courage, march quietly through the woods, surprise in the night some
unprotected village, and carry off the inhabitants and their effects
before their neighbours can come to their assistance.  One morning during
my stay at Kamalia we were all much alarmed by a party of this kind.  The
king of Fooladoo’s son, with five hundred horsemen, passed secretly
through the woods a little to the southward of Kamalia, and on the
morning following plundered three towns belonging to Madigai, a powerful
chief in Jallonkadoo.

The success of this expedition encouraged the governor of Bangassi, a
town in Fooladoo, to make a second inroad upon another part of the same
country.  Having assembled about two hundred of his people, he passed the
river Kokoro in the night, and carried off a great number of prisoners.
Several of the inhabitants who had escaped these attacks were afterwards
seized by the Mandingoes as they wandered about in the woods or concealed
themselves in the glens and strong places of the mountains.

These plundering excursions always produced speedy retaliation: and when
large parties cannot be collected for this purpose, a few friends will
combine together and advance into the enemy’s country, with a view to
plunder or carry off the inhabitants.  A single individual has been known
to take his bow and quiver and proceed in like manner.  Such an attempt
is doubtless in him an act of rashness; but when it is considered that in
one of these predatory wars he has probably been deprived of his child or
his nearest relation, his situation will rather call for pity than
censure.  The poor sufferer, urged on by the feelings of domestic or
paternal attachment and the ardour of revenge, conceals himself among the
bushes until some young or unarmed person passes by.  He then,
tiger-like, springs upon his prey, drags his victim into the thicket, and
in the night carries him off as a slave.

When a <DW64> has, by means like these, once fallen into the hands of his
enemies, he is either retained as the slave of his conqueror, or bartered
into a distant kingdom; for an African, when he has once subdued his
enemy, will seldom give him an opportunity of lifting up his hand against
him at a future period.  A conqueror commonly disposes of his captives
according to the rank which they held in their native kingdom.  Such of
the domestic slaves as appear to be of a mild disposition, and
particularly the young women, are retained as his own slaves.  Others
that display marks of discontent are disposed of in a distant country;
and such of the freemen or slaves as have taken an active part in the war
are either sold to the slatees or put to death.  War, therefore, is
certainly the most general and most productive source of slavery, and the
desolations of war often (but not always) produce the second cause of
slavery, _famine_; in which case a freeman becomes a slave to avoid a
greater calamity.

Perhaps, by a philosophic and reflecting mind, death itself would
scarcely be considered as a greater calamity than slavery; but the poor
<DW64>, when fainting with hunger, thinks like Esau of old, “Behold, I am
at the point to die, and what profit shall this birthright do to me?”
There are many instances of freemen voluntarily surrendering up their
liberty to save their lives.  During a great scarcity, which lasted for
three years, in the countries of the Gambia, great numbers of people
became slaves in this manner.  Dr. Laidley assured me that at that time
many freemen came and begged, with great earnestness, _to be put upon his
slave-chain_, to save them from perishing of hunger.  Large families are
very often exposed to absolute want; and as the parents have almost
unlimited authority over their children, it frequently happens, in all
parts of Africa, that some of the latter are sold to purchase provisions
for the rest of the family.  When I was at Jarra, Daman Jumma pointed out
to me three young slaves whom he had purchased in this manner.  I have
already related another instance which I saw at Wonda; and I was informed
that in Fooladoo, at that time, it was a very common practice.

The third cause of slavery is _insolvency_.  Of all the offences (if
insolvency may be so called) to which the laws of Africa have affixed the
punishment of slavery, this is the most common.  A <DW64> trader commonly
contracts debts on some mercantile speculation, either from his
neighbours, to purchase such articles as will sell to advantage in a
distant market, or from the European traders on the coast—payment to be
made in a given time.  In both cases the situation of the adventurer is
exactly the same.  If he succeeds, he may secure an independency: if he
is unsuccessful, his person and services are at the disposal of another;
for in Africa, not only the effects of the insolvent, but even the
insolvent himself, is sold to satisfy the lawful demands of his
creditors. {109}

The fourth cause above enumerated is, _the commission of crimes on which
the laws of the country affix slavery as a punishment_.  In Africa the
only offences of this class are murder, adultery, and witchcraft, and I
am happy to say that they did not appear to me to be common.  In cases of
murder, I was informed that the nearest relation of the deceased had it
in his power, after conviction, either to kill the offender with his own
hand or sell him into slavery.  When adultery occurs, it is generally
left to the option of the person injured either to sell the culprit or
accept such a ransom for him as he may think equivalent to the injury he
has sustained.  By witchcraft is meant pretended magic, by which the
lives or healths of persons are affected; in other words, it is the
administering of poison.  No trial for this offence, however, came under
my observation while I was in Africa, and I therefore suppose that the
crime and its punishment occur but very seldom.

When a freeman has become a slave by any one of the causes before
mentioned, he generally continues so for life, and his children (if they
are born of an enslaved mother) are brought up in the same state of
servitude.  There are, however, a few instances of slaves obtaining their
freedom, and sometimes even with the consent of their masters, as by
performing some singular piece of service, or by going to battle and
bringing home two slaves as a ransom; but the common way of regaining
freedom is by escape, and when slaves have once set their minds on
running away they often succeed.  Some of them will wait for years before
an opportunity presents itself, and during that period show no signs of
discontent.  In general, it may be remarked that slaves who come from a
hilly country and have been much accustomed to hunting and travel, are
more apt to attempt to make their escape than such as are born in a flat
country and have been employed in cultivating the land.

Such are the general outlines of that system of slavery which prevails in
Africa, and it is evident, from its nature and extent, that it is a
system of no modern date.  It probably had its origin in the remote ages
of antiquity, before the Mohammedans explored a path across the desert.
How far it is maintained and supported by the slave traffic which for two
hundred years the nations of Europe have carried on with the natives of
the coast, it is neither within my province nor in my power to explain.
If my sentiments should be required concerning the effect which a
discontinuance of that commerce would produce on the manners of the
natives, I should have no hesitation in observing that, in the present
unenlightened state of their minds, my opinion is, the effect would
neither be so extensive nor beneficial as many wise and worthy persons
fondly expect.




CHAPTER XXIII.
GOLD AND IVORY.


THOSE valuable commodities, gold and ivory (the next objects of our
inquiry), have probably been found in Africa from the first ages of the
world.  They are reckoned among its most important productions in the
earliest records of its history.

It has been observed that gold is seldom or never discovered except in
_mountainous_ and _barren_ countries—nature, it is said, thus making
amends in one way for her penuriousness in the other.  This, however, is
not wholly true.  Gold is found in considerable quantities throughout
every part of Manding, a country which is indeed hilly, but cannot
properly be called _mountainous_, much less _barren_.  It is also found
in great plenty in Jallonkadoo (particularly about Boori), another hilly,
but by no means an unfertile, country.  It is remarkable that in the
place last mentioned (Boori), which is situated about four days’ journey
to the south-west of Kamalia, the salt market is often supplied at the
same time with rock-salt from the Great Desert and sea-salt from the Rio
Grande; the price of each, at this distance from its source, being nearly
the same.  And the dealers in each, whether Moors from the north or
<DW64>s from the west, are invited thither by the same motives—that of
bartering their salt for gold.

The gold of Manding, so far as I could learn, is never found in any
matrix or vein, but always in small grains nearly in a pure state, from
the size of a pin’s head to that of a pea, scattered through a large body
of sand or clay, and in this state it is called by the Mandingoes _sanoo
munko_ (gold powder).  It is, however, extremely probable, by what I
could learn of the situation of the ground, that most of it has
originally been washed down by repeated torrents from the neighbouring
hills.  The manner in which it is collected is nearly as follows:—

About the beginning of December, when the harvest is over and the streams
and torrents have greatly subsided, the mansa or chief of the town
appoints a day to begin _sanoo koo_ (gold-washing), and the women are
sure to have themselves in readiness by the time appointed.  A hoe or
spade for digging up the sand, two or three calabashes for washing it in,
and a few quills for containing the gold dust, are all the implements
necessary for the purpose.  On the morning of their departure a bullock
is killed for the first day’s entertainment, and a number of prayers and
charms are used to insure success, for a failure on that day is thought a
bad omen.

The mansa of Kamalia, with fourteen of his people, were, I remember, so
much disappointed in their first day’s washing that very few of them had
resolution to persevere, and the few that did had but very indifferent
success: which indeed is not much to be wondered at, for instead of
opening some untried place they continued to dig and wash in the same
spot where they had dug and washed for years, and where, of course, but
few large grains could be left.

The washing of the sands of the streams is by far the easiest way of
obtaining the gold dust; but in most places the sands have been so
narrowly searched before, that unless the stream takes some new course
the gold is found but in small quantities.  While some of the party are
busied in washing the sands, others employ themselves farther up the
torrent, where the rapidity of the stream has carried away all the clay,
sand, etc., and left nothing but small pebbles.  The search among these
is a very troublesome task.  I have seen women who have had the skin worn
off the tops of their fingers in this employment.  Sometimes, however,
they are rewarded by finding pieces of gold, which they call _sanoo
birro_ (gold stones), that amply repay them for their trouble.  A woman
and her daughter, inhabitants of Kamalia, found in one day two pieces of
this kind; one of five drachms and the other of three drachms weight.
But the most certain and profitable mode of washing is practised in the
height of the dry season, by digging a deep pit, like a draw-well, near
some hill which has previously been discovered to contain gold.  The pit
is dug with small spades or corn-hoes, and the earth is drawn up in large
calabashes.  As the <DW64>s dig through the different strata of clay or
sand, a calabash or two of each is washed by way of experiment; and in
this manner the labourers proceed, until they come to a stratum
containing gold, or until they are obstructed by rocks, or inundated by
water.  In general, when they come to a stratum of fine reddish sand,
with small black specks therein, they find gold in some proportion or
other, and send up large calabashes full of the sand for the women to
wash; for though the pit is dug by the men, the gold is always washed by
the women, who are accustomed from their infancy to a similar operation
in separating the husks of corn from the meal.

As I never descended into any one of these pits, I cannot say in what
manner they are worked underground.  Indeed, the situation in which I was
placed made it necessary for me to be cautious not to incur the suspicion
of the natives by examining too far into the riches of their country; but
the manner of separating the gold from the sand is very simple, and is
frequently performed by the women in the middle of the town; for when the
searchers return, from the valleys in the evening, they commonly bring
with them each a calabash or two of sand, to be washed by such of the
females as remain at home.  The operation is simply as follows:—

A portion of sand or clay (for the gold is sometimes found in a
brown- clay) is put into a large calabash and mixed with a
sufficient quantity of water.  The woman whose office it is, then shakes
the calabash in such a manner as to mix the sand and water together, and
give the whole a rotatory motion—at first gently, but afterwards more
quickly, until a small portion of sand and water, at every revolution,
flies over the brim of the calabash.  The sand thus separated is only the
coarsest particles mixed with a little muddy water.  After the operation
has been continued for some time, the sand is allowed to subside, and the
water poured off; a portion of coarse sand, which is now uppermost in the
calabash, is removed by the hand, and, fresh water being added, the
operation is repeated until the water comes off almost pure.  The woman
now takes a second calabash, and shakes the sand and water gently from
the one to the other, reserving that portion of sand which is next the
bottom of the calabash, and which is most likely to contain the gold.
This small quantity is mixed with some pure water, and, being moved about
in the calabash, is carefully examined.  If a few particles of gold are
picked out, the contents of the other calabash are examined in the same
manner, but in general the party is well contented if she can obtain
three or four grains from the contents of both calabashes.  Some women,
however, by long practice, become so well acquainted with the nature of
the sand, and the mode of washing it, that they will collect gold where
others cannot find a single particle.  The gold dust is kept in quills
stopped up with cotton; and the washers are fond of displaying a number
of these quills in their hair.  Generally speaking, if a person uses
common diligence in a proper soil, it is supposed that as much gold may
be collected by him in the course of the dry season as is equal to the
value of two slaves.

Thus simple is the process by which the <DW64>s obtain gold in Manding;
and it is evident from this account that the country contains a
considerable portion of this precious metal, for many of the smaller
particles must necessarily escape the observation of the naked eye; and
as the natives generally search the sands of streams at a considerable
distance from the hills, and consequently far removed from the mines
where the gold was originally produced, the labourers are sometimes but
ill-paid for their trouble.  Minute particles only of this heavy metal
can be carried by the current to any considerable distance; the larger
must remain deposited near the original source from whence they came.
Were the gold-bearing streams to be traced to their fountains, and the
hills from whence they spring properly examined, the sand in which the
gold is there deposited would no doubt be found to contain particles of a
much larger size; and even the small grains might be collected to
considerable advantage by the use of quicksilver and other improvements,
with which the natives are at present unacquainted.

Part of this gold is converted into ornaments for the women, but in
general these ornaments are more to be admired for their weight than
their workmanship.  They are massy and inconvenient, particularly the
earrings, which are commonly so heavy as to pull down and lacerate the
lobe of the ear; to avoid which, they are supported by a thong of red
leather, which passes over the crown of the head from one ear to the
other.  The necklace displays greater fancy, and the proper arrangement
of the different beads and plates of gold is the great criterion of taste
and elegance.  When a lady of consequence is in full dress, her gold
ornaments may be worth altogether from fifty to eighty pounds sterling.

A small quantity of gold is likewise employed by the slatees in defraying
the expenses of their journeys to and from the coast, but by far the
greater proportion is annually carried away by the Moors in exchange for
salt and other merchandise.  During my stay at Kamalia, the gold
collected by the different traders at that place for salt alone was
nearly equal to one hundred and ninety-eight pounds sterling; and as
Kamalia is but a small town, and not much resorted to by the trading
Moors, this quantity must have borne a very small proportion to the gold
collected at Kancaba, Kankaree, and some other large towns.  The value of
salt in this part of Africa is very great.  One slab, about two feet and
a half in length, fourteen inches in breadth, and two inches in
thickness, will sometimes sell for about two pounds ten shillings
sterling; and from one pound fifteen shillings to two pounds may be
considered as the common price.  Four of these slabs are considered as a
load for an ass, and six for a bullock.  The value of European
merchandise in Manding varies very much according to the supply from the
coast, or the dread of war in the country; but the return for such
articles is commonly made in slaves.  The price of a prime slave, when I
was at Kamalia, was from twelve to nine minkallies, and European
commodities had then nearly the following value:—

18 gun-flints,                      one minkalli.

48 leaves of tobacco,

20 charges of gunpowder,

A cutlass,
A musket,                           from three to four minkallies.

The produce of the country and the different necessaries of life, when
exchanged for gold, sold as follows:—

Common provisions for one day, the weight of one _teeleekissi_ (a black
bean, six of which make the weight of one minkalli); a chicken, one
teeleekissi; a sheep, three teeleekissi; a bullock, one minkalli; a
horse, from ten to seventeen minkallies.

The <DW64>s weigh the gold in small balances, which they always carry
about them.  They make no difference, in point of value, between gold
dust and wrought gold.  In bartering one article for another, the person
who receives the gold always weighs it with his own teeleekissi.  These
beans are sometimes fraudulently soaked in shea-butter to make them
heavy, and I once saw a pebble ground exactly into the form of one of
them; but such practices are not very common.

Having now related the substance of what occurs to my recollection
concerning the African mode of obtaining gold from the earth, and its
value in barter, I proceed to the next article of which I proposed to
treat—namely, ivory.

Nothing creates a greater surprise among the <DW64>s on the sea-coast
than the eagerness displayed by the European traders to procure
elephants’ teeth, it being exceedingly difficult to make them comprehend
to what use it is applied.  Although they are shown knives with ivory
handles, combs and toys of the same material, and are convinced that the
ivory thus manufactured was originally parts of a tooth, they are not
satisfied.  They suspect that this commodity is more frequently converted
in Europe to purposes of far greater importance, the true nature of which
is studiously concealed from them, lest the price of ivory should be
enhanced.  They cannot, they say, easily persuade themselves that ships
would be built and voyages undertaken to procure an article which had no
other value than that of furnishing handles to knives, etc., when pieces
of wood would answer the purpose equally well.

Elephants are very numerous in the interior of Africa, but they appear to
be a distinct species from those found in Asia.  Blumenbach, in his
figures of objects of natural history, has given good drawings of a
grinder of each, and the variation is evident.  M. Cuvier also has given
in the _Magasin Encyclopédique_ a clear account of the difference between
them.  As I never examined the Asiatic elephant, I have chosen rather to
refer to those writers than advance this as an opinion of my own.  It has
been said that the African elephant is of a less docile nature than the
Asiatic, and incapable of being tamed.  The <DW64>s certainly do not at
present tame them; but when we consider that the Carthaginians had always
tame elephants in their armies, and actually transported some of them to
Italy in the course of the Punic wars, it seems more likely that they
should have possessed the art of taming their own elephants than have
submitted to the expense of bringing such vast animals from Asia.
Perhaps the barbarous practice of hunting the African elephants for the
sake of their teeth has rendered them more untractable and savage than
they were found to be in former times.

The greater part of the ivory which is sold on the Gambia and Senegal
rivers is brought from the interior country.  The lands towards the coast
are too swampy and too much intersected with creeks and rivers for so
bulky an animal as the elephant to travel through without being
discovered; and when once the natives discern the marks of his feet in
the earth, the whole village is up in arms.  The thoughts of feasting on
his flesh, making sandals of his hide, and selling the teeth to the
Europeans, inspire every one with courage, and the animal seldom escapes
from his pursuers; but in the plains of Bambarra and Kaarta, and the
extensive wilds of Jallonkadoo, the elephants are very numerous, and,
from the great scarcity of gunpowder in those districts, they are less
annoyed by the natives.

Scattered teeth are frequently picked up in the woods, and travellers are
very diligent in looking for them.  It is a common practice with the
elephant to thrust his teeth under the roots of such shrubs and bushes as
grow in the more dry and elevated parts of the country, where the soil is
shallow.  These bushes he easily overturns, and feeds on the roots, which
are in general more tender and juicy than the hard, woody branches or the
foliage; but when the teeth are partly decayed by age, and the roots more
firmly fixed, the great exertions of the animal in this practice
frequently cause them to break short.  At Kamalia I saw two teeth, one a
very large one, which were found in the woods, and which were evidently
broken off in this manner.  Indeed, it is difficult otherwise to account
for such a large proportion of broken ivory as is daily offered for sale
at the different factories, for when the elephant is killed in hunting,
unless he dashes himself over a precipice, the teeth are always extracted
entire.

There are certain seasons of the year when the elephants collect into
large herds, and traverse the country in quest of food or water; and as
all that part of the country to the north of the Niger is destitute of
rivers, whenever the pools in the woods are dried up the elephants
approach towards the banks of that river.  Here they continue until the
commencement of the rainy season, in the months of June or July, and
during this time they are much hunted by such of the Bambarrans as have
gunpowder to spare.  The elephant-hunters seldom go out singly—a party of
four or five join together, and having each furnished himself with powder
and ball, and a quantity of corn-meal in a leather bag sufficient for
five or six days’ provision, they enter the most unfrequented parts of
the wood, and examine with great care everything that can lead to the
discovery of the elephants.  In this pursuit, notwithstanding the bulk of
the animal, very great nicety of observation is required.  The broken
branches, the scattered dung of the animal, and the marks of his feet are
carefully inspected; and many of the hunters have, by long experience and
attentive observation, become so expert in their search that as soon as
they observe the foot-marks of an elephant they will tell almost to a
certainty at what time it passed and at what distance it will be found.

When they discover a herd of elephants, they follow them at a distance,
until they perceive some one stray from the rest and come into such a
situation as to be fired at with advantage.  The hunters then approach
with great caution, creeping amongst the long grass, until they have got
near enough to be sure of their aim.  They then discharge all their
pieces at once, and throw themselves on their faces among the grass; the
wounded elephant immediately applies his trunk to the different wounds,
but being unable to extract the balls, and seeing nobody near him, he
becomes quite furious and runs about amongst the bushes until by fatigue
and loss of blood he has exhausted himself, and affords the hunters an
opportunity of firing a second time at him, by which he is generally
brought to the ground.

The skin is now taken off, and extended on the ground with pegs to dry;
and such parts of the flesh as are most esteemed are cut up into thin
slices, and dried in the sun, to serve for provisions on some future
occasion.  The teeth are struck out with a light hatchet which the
hunters always carry along with them, not only for that purpose, but also
to enable them to cut down such trees as contain honey; for though they
carry with them only five or six days’ provisions, they will remain in
the woods for months if they are successful, and support themselves upon
the flesh of such elephants as they kill and wild honey.

The ivory thus collected is seldom brought down to the coast by the
hunters themselves.  They dispose of it to the itinerant merchants who
come annually from the coast with arms and ammunition to purchase this
valuable commodity.  Some of these merchants will collect ivory in the
course of one season sufficient to load four or five asses.  A great
quantity of ivory is likewise brought from the interior by the slave
coffles; there are, however, some slatees of the Mohammedan persuasion
who, from motives of religion, will not deal in ivory, nor eat of the
flesh of the elephant, unless it has been killed with a spear.

The quantity of ivory collected in this part of Africa is not so great,
nor are the teeth in general so large, as in the countries nearer the
Line: few of them weigh more than eighty or one hundred pounds, and upon
an average a bar of European merchandise may be reckoned as the price of
a pound of ivory.

I have now, I trust, in this and the preceding chapters explained with
sufficient minuteness the nature and extent of the commercial connection
which at present prevails, and has long subsisted, between the <DW64>
natives of those parts of Africa which I visited and the nations of
Europe; and it appears that slaves, gold, and ivory, together with the
few articles enumerated in the beginning of my work—viz., bees’ wax and
honey, hides, gums, and dye-woods—constitute the whole catalogue of
exportable commodities.  Other productions, however, have been
incidentally noticed as the growth of Africa, such as grain of different
kinds, tobacco, indigo, cotton-wool and perhaps a few others; but of all
these (which can only be obtained by cultivation and labour) the natives
raise sufficient only for their own immediate expenditure; nor, under the
present system of their laws, manners, trade, and government, can
anything further be expected from them.  It cannot, however, admit of a
doubt that all the rich and valuable productions both of the East and
West Indies might easily be naturalised and brought to the utmost
perfection in the tropical parts of this immense continent.  Nothing is
wanting to this end but example to enlighten the minds of the natives,
and instruction to enable them to direct their industry to proper
objects.  It was not possible for me to behold the wonderful fertility of
the soil, the vast herds of cattle, proper both for labour and food, and
a variety of other circumstances favourable to colonisation and
agriculture—and reflect, withal, on the means which presented themselves
of a vast inland navigation without—lamenting that a country so
abundantly gifted and favoured by nature should remain in its present
savage and neglected state.  Much more did I lament that a people of
manners and disposition so gentle and benevolent should either be left as
they now are, immersed in the gross and uncomfortable blindness of pagan
superstition, or permitted to become converts to a system of bigotry and
fanaticism which, without enlightening the mind, often debases the heart.
On this subject many observations might be made, but the reader will
probably think that I have already digressed too largely; and I now,
therefore, return to my situation at Kamalia.




CHAPTER XXIV.
MOHAMMEDAN CUSTOMS; ARRIVAL AT KINYTAKOORO.


THE schoolmaster to whose care I was entrusted during the absence of
Karfa was a man of a mild disposition and gentle manners; his name was
Fankooma, and although he himself adhered strictly to the religion of
Mohammed, he was by no means intolerant in his principles towards others
who differed from him.  He spent much of his time in reading, and
teaching appeared to be his pleasure as well as employment.  His school
consisted of seventeen boys, most of whom were sons of <DW5>s, and two
girls, one of whom was Karfa’s own daughter.  The girls received their
instruction in the daytime, but the boys always had their lessons, by the
light of a large fire, before day break and again late in the evening;
for, being considered, during their scholarship, as the domestic slaves
of the master, they were employed in planting corn, bringing firewood,
and in other servile offices through the day.

Exclusive of the Koran, and a book or two of commentaries thereon, the
schoolmaster possessed a variety of manuscripts, which had partly been
purchased from the trading Moors, and partly borrowed from bushreens in
the neighbourhood and copied with great care.  Other manuscripts had been
produced to me at different places in the course of my journey; and on
recounting those I had before seen, and those which were now shown to me,
and interrogating the schoolmaster on the subject, I discovered that the
<DW64>s are in possession (among others) of an Arabic version of the
Pentateuch of Moses, which they call _Taureta la Moosa_.  This is so
highly esteemed that it is often sold for the value of one prime slave.
They have likewise a version of the Psalms of David (_Zabora Dawidi_);
and, lastly, the Book of Isaiah, which they call _Lingeeli la Isa_, and
it is in very high esteem.  I suspect, indeed, that in all these copies
there are interpolations of some of the peculiar tenets of Mohammed, for
I could distinguish in many passages the name of the Prophet.  It is
possible, however, that this circumstance might otherwise have been
accounted for if my knowledge of the Arabic had been more extensive.  By
means of those books many of the converted <DW64>s have acquired an
acquaintance with some of the remarkable events recorded in the Old
Testament.  The account of our first parents, the death of Abel, the
Deluge, the lives of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the story of Joseph and
his brethren, the history of Moses, David, Solomon, etc.; all these have
been related to me, in the Mandingo language, with tolerable exactness by
different people; and my surprise was not greater, on hearing these
accounts from the lips of the <DW64>s, than theirs on finding that I was
already acquainted with them; for although the <DW64>s in general have a
very great idea of the wealth and power of the Europeans, I am afraid
that the Mohammedan converts among them think but very lightly of our
superior attainments in religious knowledge.  The white traders in the
maritime districts take no pains to counteract this unhappy prejudice,
always performing their own devotions in secret, and seldom condescending
to converse with the <DW64>s in a friendly and instructive manner.  To
me, therefore, it was not so much the subject of wonder as matter of
regret to observe that, while the superstition of Mohammed has in this
manner scattered a few faint beams of learning among these poor people,
the precious light of Christianity is altogether excluded.  I could not
but lament that, although the coast of Africa has now been known and
frequented by the Europeans for more than two hundred years, yet the
<DW64>s still remain entire strangers to the doctrines of our holy
religion.  We are anxious to draw from obscurity the opinions and records
of antiquity, the beauties of Arabian and Asiatic literature, etc.; but
while our libraries are thus stored with the learning of various
countries, we distribute with a parsimonious hand the blessings of
religious truth to the benighted nations of the earth.  The natives of
Asia derive but little advantage in this respect from an intercourse with
us; and even the poor Africans, whom we affect to consider as barbarians,
look upon us, I fear, as little better than a race of formidable but
ignorant heathens.  When I produced Richardson’s Arabic Grammar to some
slatees on the Gambia, they were astonished to think that any European
should understand and write the sacred language of their religion.  At
first they suspected that it might have been written by some of the
slaves carried from the coast, but on a closer examination they were
satisfied that no bushreen could write such beautiful Arabic, and one of
them offered to give me an ass and sixteen bars of goods if I would part
with the book.  Perhaps a short and easy introduction to Christianity,
such as is found in some of the catechisms for children, elegantly
printed in Arabic, and distributed on different parts of the coast, might
have a wonderful effect.  The expense would be but trifling; curiosity
would induce many to read it; and the evident superiority which it would
possess over their present manuscripts, both in point of elegance and
cheapness, might at last obtain it a place among the school-books of
Africa.

The reflections which I have thus ventured to submit to my readers on
this important subject naturally suggested themselves to my mind on
perceiving the encouragement which was thus given to learning (such as it
is) in many parts of Africa.  I have observed that the pupils at Kamalia
were most of them the children of pagans; their parents, therefore, could
have had no predilection for the doctrines of Mohammed.  Their aim was
their children’s improvement; and if a more enlightened system had
presented itself, it would probably have been preferred.  The children,
too, wanted not a spirit of emulation, which it is the aim of the tutor
to encourage.  When any one of them has read through the Koran, and
performed a certain number of public prayers, a feast is prepared by the
schoolmaster, and the scholar undergoes an examination, or (in European
terms) _takes out his degree_.  I attended at three different
inaugurations of this sort, and heard with pleasure the distinct and
intelligent answers which the scholars frequently gave to the bushreens,
who assembled on those occasions and acted as examiners.  When the
bushreens had satisfied themselves respecting the learning and abilities
of the scholar, the last page of the Koran was put into his hand, and he
was desired to read it aloud.  After the boy had finished this lesson, he
pressed the paper against his forehead and pronounced the word _Amen_,
upon which all the bushreens rose, and, shaking him cordially by the
hand, bestowed upon him the title of bushreen.

When a scholar has undergone this examination, his parents are informed
that he has completed his education, and that it is incumbent on them to
redeem their son by giving to the schoolmaster a slave or the price of a
slave in exchange, which is always done if the parents can afford to do
it; if not, the boy remains the domestic slave of the schoolmaster until
he can, by his own industry, collect goods sufficient to ransom himself.

About a week after the departure of Karfa three Moors arrived at Kamalia
with a considerable quantity of salt and other merchandise, which they
had obtained on credit from a merchant of Fezzan, who had lately arrived
at Kancaba.  Their engagement was to pay him his price when the goods
were sold, which they expected would be in the course of a month.  Being
rigid bushreens, they were accommodated with two of Karfa’s huts, and
sold their goods to very great advantage.

On the 24th of January Karfa returned to Kamalia with a number of people
and thirteen prime slaves whom he had purchased.  He likewise brought
with him a young girl whom he had married at Kancaba, as his fourth wife,
and had given her parents three prime slaves for her.  She was kindly
received at the door of the baloon by Karfa’s other wives, who conducted
their new acquaintance and co-partner into one of the best huts, which
they had caused to be swept and whitewashed on purpose to receive her.

My clothes were by this time become so very ragged that I was almost
ashamed to appear out of doors, but Karfa, on the day after his arrival,
generously presented me with such a garment and trousers as are commonly
worn in the country.

The slaves which Karfa had brought with him were all of them prisoners of
war; they had been taken by the Bambarra army in the kingdoms of Wassela
and Kaarta, and carried to Sego, where some of them had remained three
years in irons.  From Sego they were sent, in company with a number of
other captives, up the Niger in two large canoes, and offered for sale at
Yamina, Bammakoo, and Kancaba; at which places the greater number of the
captives were bartered for gold dust, and the remainder sent forward to
Kankaree.

Eleven of them confessed to me that they had been slaves from their
infancy, but the other two refused to give any account of their former
condition.  They were all very inquisitive, but they viewed me at first
with looks of horror, and repeatedly asked if my countrymen were
cannibals.  They were very desirous to know what became of the slaves
after they had crossed the salt water.  I told them that they were
employed in cultivation the land; but they would not believe me, and one
of them, putting his hand upon the ground, said, with great simplicity,
“Have you really got such ground as this to set your feet upon?”  A
deeply-rooted idea that the whites purchase <DW64>s for the purpose of
devouring them, or of selling them to others that they may be devoured
hereafter, naturally makes the slaves contemplate a journey towards the
coast with great terror, insomuch that the slatees are forced to keep
them constantly in irons, and watch them very closely, to prevent their
escape.  They are commonly secured by putting the right leg of one and
the left of another into the same pair of fetters.  By supporting the
fetters with a string, they can walk, though very slowly.  Every four
slaves are likewise fastened together by the necks with a strong rope of
twisted thongs, and in the night an additional pair of fetters is put on
their hands, and sometimes a light iron chain passed round their necks.

Such of them as evince marks of discontent are secured in a different
manner.  A thick billet of wood is cut about three feet long, and, a
smooth notch being made upon one side of it, the ankle of the slave is
bolted to the smooth part by means of a strong iron staple, one prong of
which passes on each side of the ankle.  All these fetters and bolts are
made from native iron; in the present case they were put on by the
blacksmith as soon as the slaves arrived from Kancaba, and were not taken
off until the morning on which the coffle departed for Gambia.

In other respects the treatment of the slaves during their stay at
Kamalia was far from being harsh or cruel.  They were led out in their
fetters every morning to the shade of the tamarind-tree, where they were
encouraged to play at games of hazard, and sing diverting songs, to keep
up their spirits; for, though some of them sustained the hardships of
their situation with amazing fortitude, the greater part were very much
dejected, and would sit all day in a sort of sullen melancholy, with
their eyes fixed upon the ground.  In the evening their irons were
examined, and their hand-fetters put on, after which they were conducted
into two large huts, where they were guarded during the night by Karfa’s
domestic slaves.  But, notwithstanding all this, about a week after their
arrival, one of the slaves had the address to procure a small knife, with
which he opened the rings of his fetters, cut the rope, and made his
escape; more of them would probably have got off had they assisted each
other, but the slave no sooner found himself at liberty than he refused
to stop and assist in breaking the chain which was fastened round the
necks of his companions.

As all the slatees and slaves belonging to the coffle were now assembled
either at Kamalia or at some of the neighbouring villages, it might have
been expected that we should set out immediately for Gambia; but though
the day of our departure was frequently fixed, it was always found
expedient to change it.  Some of the people had not prepared their dry
provisions; others had gone to visit their relations; or collect some
trifling debts; and, last of all, it was necessary to consult whether the
day would be a lucky one.  On account of one of these, or other such
causes, our departure was put off, day after day, until the month of
February was far advanced, after which all the slatees agreed to remain
in their present quarters until the _fast moon was over_.  And here I may
remark that loss of time is an object of no great importance in the eyes
of a <DW64>.  If he has anything of consequence to perform, it is a matter
of indifference to him whether he does it to-day or to-morrow, or a month
or two hence; so long as he can spend the present moment with any degree
of comfort, he gives himself very little concern about the future.

The fast of Ramadan was observed with great strictness by all the
bushreens, but instead of compelling me to follow their example, as the
Moors did on a similar occasion, Karfa frankly told me that I was at
liberty to pursue my own inclination.  In order, however, to manifest a
respect for their religious opinions, I voluntarily fasted three days,
which was thought sufficient to screen me from the reproachful epithet of
<DW5>.  During the fast all the slatees belonging to the coffle assembled
every morning in Karfa’s house, where the schoolmaster read to them some
religious lessons from a large folio volume, the author of which was an
Arab of the name of Sheiffa.  In the evening such of the women as had
embraced Mohammedanism assembled and said their prayers publicly at the
missura.  They were all dressed in white, and went through the different
prostrations prescribed by their religion with becoming solemnity.
Indeed, during the whole fast of Ramadan the <DW64>s behaved themselves
with the greatest meekness and humility, forming a striking contrast to
the savage intolerance and brutal bigotry which at this period
characterise the Moors.

When the fast month was almost at an end, the bushreens assembled at the
missura to watch for the appearance of the new moon, but, the evening
being rather cloudy, they were for some time disappointed, and a number
of them had gone home with a resolution to fast another day, when on a
sudden this delightful object showed her sharp horns from behind a cloud,
and was welcomed with the clapping of hands, beating of drums, firing of
muskets, and other marks of rejoicing.  As this moon is reckoned
extremely lucky, Karfa gave orders that all the people belonging to the
coffle should immediately pack up their dry provisions and hold
themselves in readiness; and on the 16th of April the slatees held a
consultation and fixed on the 19th of the same month as the day on which
the coffle should depart from Kamalia.  This resolution freed me from
much uneasiness, for our departure had already been so long deferred that
I was apprehensive it might still be put off until the commencement of
the rainy season; and although Karfa behaved towards me with the greatest
kindness, I found my situation very unpleasant.  The slatees were
unfriendly to me, and the trading Moors who were at this time at Kamalia
continued to plot mischief against me from the first day of their
arrival.  Under these circumstances I reflected that my life in a great
measure depended on the good opinion of an individual who was daily
hearing malicious stories concerning the Europeans, and I could hardly
expect that he would always judge with impartiality between me and his
countrymen.  Time had, indeed, reconciled me in some degree to their mode
of life, and a smoky hut or a scanty supper gave me no great uneasiness;
but I became at last wearied out with a constant state of alarm and
anxiety, and felt a painful longing for the manifold blessings of
civilised society.

_April_ 19.—The long-wished-for day of our departure was at length
arrived; and the slatees, having taken the irons from their slaves,
assembled with them at the door of Karfa’s house, where the bundles were
all tied up, and every one had his load assigned him.  The coffle, on its
departure from Kamalia, consisted of twenty-seven slaves for sale, the
property of Karfa and four other slatees; but we were afterwards joined
by five at Maraboo and three at Bala—making in all thirty-five slaves.
The freemen were fourteen in number, but most of them had one or two
wives and some domestic slaves; and the schoolmaster, who was now upon
his return for Woradoo, the place of his nativity, took with him eight of
his scholars, so that the number of free people and domestic slaves
amounted to thirty-eight, and the whole amount of the coffle was
seventy-three.  Among the freemen were six jillikeas (singing men), whose
musical talents were frequently exerted either to divert our fatigue or
obtain us a welcome from strangers.  When we departed from Kamalia, we
were followed for about half a mile by most of the inhabitants of the
town, some of them crying and others shaking hands with their relations
who were now about to leave them; and when we had gained a piece of
rising ground, from which we had a view of Kamalia, all the people
belonging to the coffle were ordered to sit down in one place with their
faces towards the west, and the townspeople were desired to sit down in
another place with their faces towards Kamalia.  In this situation the
schoolmaster, with two of the principal slatees, having taken their
places between the two parties, pronounced a long and solemn prayer,
after which they walked three times round the coffle, making an
impression in the ground with the ends of their spears, and muttering
something by way of charm.  When this ceremony was ended, all the people
belonging to the coffle sprang up and, without taking a formal farewell
of their friends, set forwards.  As many of the slaves had remained for
years in irons, the sudden exertion of walking quick with heavy loads
upon their heads occasioned spasmodic contractions of their legs; and we
had not proceeded above a mile before it was found necessary to take two
of them from the rope, and allow them to walk more slowly until we
reached Maraboo, a walled village, where some people were waiting to join
the coffle.  Here we stopped about two hours, to allow the strangers time
to pack up their provisions, and then continued our route to Bala, which
town we reached about four in the afternoon.  The inhabitants of Bala at
this season of the year subsist chiefly on fish, which they take in great
plenty from the streams in the neighbourhood.  We remained here until the
afternoon of the next day, the 20th, when we proceeded to Worumbang, the
frontier village of Manding, towards Jallonkadoo.  As we proposed shortly
to enter the Jallonka Wilderness, the people of this village furnished us
with great plenty of provisions, and on the morning of the 21st we
entered the woods to the westward of Worumbang.  After having travelled
some little way, a consultation was held whether we should continue our
route through the wilderness, or save one day’s provisions by going to
Kinytakooro, a town in Jallonkadoo.  After debating the matter for some
time, it was agreed that we should take the road for Kinytakooro; but as
that town was a long day’s journey distant, it was necessary to take some
refreshment.  Accordingly every person opened his provision-bag and
brought a handful or two of meal to the place where Karfa and the slatees
were sitting.  When every one had brought his quota, and the whole was
properly arranged in small gourd-shells, the schoolmaster offered up a
short prayer, the substance of which was that God and the holy Prophet
might preserve us from robbers and all bad people, that our provisions
might never fail us, nor our limbs become fatigued.  This ceremony being
ended, every one partook of the meal and drank a little water, after
which we set forward (rather running than walking) until we came to the
river Kokoro, a branch of the Senegal, where we halted about ten minutes.
The banks of this river are very high, and from the grass and brushwood
which had been left by the stream it was evident that at this place the
water had risen more than twenty feet perpendicular during the rainy
season.  At this time it was only a small stream, such as would turn a
mill, swarming with fish; and on account of the number of crocodiles, and
the danger of being carried past the ford by the force of the stream in
the rainy season, it is called _Kokoro_ (dangerous).  From this place we
continued to travel with the greatest expedition, and in the afternoon
crossed two small branches of the Kokoro.  About sunset we came in sight
of Kinytakooro, a considerable town, nearly square, situated in the
middle of a large and well-cultivated plain: before we entered the town,
we halted until the people who had fallen behind came up.  During this
day’s travel two slaves, a woman and a girl, belonging to a slates of
Bala, were so much fatigued that they could not keep up with the coffle;
they were severely whipped, and dragged along until about three o’clock
in the afternoon, when they were both affected with vomiting, by which it
was discovered that they had _eaten_ clay.  This practice is by no means
uncommon amongst the <DW64>s; but whether it arises from a vitiated
appetite, or from a settled intention to destroy themselves, I cannot
affirm.  They were permitted to lie down in the woods, and three people
remained with them until they had rested themselves; but they did not
arrive at the town until past midnight, and were then so much exhausted
that the slatee gave up all thoughts of taking them across the woods in
their present condition, and determined to return with them to Bala and
wait for another opportunity.

As this was the first town beyond the limits of Manding, greater
etiquette than usual was observed.  Every person was ordered to keep in
his proper station, and we marched towards the town in a sort of
procession nearly as follows:—In front five or six singing men, all of
them belonging to the coffle; these were followed by the other free
people; then came the slaves, fastened in the usual way by a rope round
their necks, four of them to a rope, and a man with a spear between each
four; after them came the domestic slaves; and in the rear the women of
free condition, wives of the slatees, etc.  In this manner we proceeded
until we came within a hundred yards of the gate, when the singing men
began a loud song, well calculated to flatter the vanity of the
inhabitants, by extolling their known hospitality to strangers and their
particular friendship for the Mandingoes.  When we entered the town we
proceeded to the bentang, where the people gathered round us to hear our
_dentegi_ (history); this was related publicly by two of the singing
men—they enumerated every little circumstance which had happened to the
coffle, beginning with the events of the present day and relating
everything in a backward series until they reached Kamalia.  When this
history was ended, the master of the town gave them a small present, and
all the people of the coffle, both free and enslaved, were invited by
some person or other and accommodated with lodging and provisions for the
night.




CHAPTER XXV.
THE JALLONKA WILDERNESS; A WARLIKE TALE.


WE continued at Kinytakooro until noon of the 22nd of April, when we
removed to a village about seven miles to the westward, the inhabitants
of which, being apprehensive of hostilities from the Foulahs of Fooladoo,
were at this time employed in constructing small temporary huts among the
rocks, on the side of a high hill close to the village.  The situation
was almost impregnable, being everywhere surrounded with high precipices,
except on the eastern side, where the natives had left a pathway
sufficient to allow one person at a time to ascend.  Upon the brow of the
hill, immediately over this path, I observed several heaps of large loose
stones, which the people told me were intended to be thrown down upon the
Foulahs if they should attempt the hill.

At daybreak on the 23rd we departed from this village and entered the
Jallonka Wilderness.  We passed in the course of the morning the ruins of
two small towns which had lately been burnt by the Foulahs.  The fire
must have been very intense, for I observed that the walls of many of the
huts were slightly vitrified, and appeared at a distance as if covered
with a red varnish.  About ten o’clock we came to the river Wonda, which
is somewhat larger than the river Kokoro; but the stream was at this the
rather muddy, which Karfa assured me was occasioned by amazing shoals of
fish.  They were indeed seen in all directions, and in such abundance
that I fancied the water itself tasted and smelt fishy.  As soon as we
had crossed the river, Karfa gave orders that all the people of the
coffle should in future keep close together, and travel in their proper
station.  The guides and young men were accordingly placed in the van,
the women and slaves in the centre, and the freemen in the rear.  In this
order we travelled with uncommon expedition through a woody but beautiful
country, interspersed with a pleasing variety of hill and dale, and
abounding with partridges, guinea-fowl, and deer, until sunset, when we
arrived at a most romantic stream, called Co-meissang.  My arms and neck
having been exposed to the sun during the whole day, and irritated by the
rubbing of my dress in walking, were now very much inflamed and covered
with blisters, and I was happy to embrace the opportunity, while the
coffle rested on the bank of the river, to bathe myself in the stream.
This practice, together with the cool of the evening, much diminished the
inflammation.  About three miles to the westward of the Co-meissang we
halted in a thick wood and kindled our fires for the night.  We were all
by this time very much fatigued, having, as I judged, travelled this day
thirty miles, but no person was heard to complain.  Whilst supper was
preparing, Karfa made one of the slaves break some branches from the
trees for my bed.  When we had finished our supper of kouskous, moistened
with some boiling water, and put the slaves in irons, we all lay down to
sleep; but we were frequently disturbed in the night by the howling of
wild beasts, and we found the small brown ants very troublesome.

_April_ 24.—Before daybreak the bushreens said their morning prayers, and
most of the free people drank a little _moening_ (a sort of gruel), part
of which was likewise given to such of the slaves as appeared least able
to sustain the fatigues of the day.  One of Karfa’s female slaves was
very sulky, and when some gruel was offered to her she refused to drink
it.  As soon as day dawned we set out, and travelled the whole morning
over a wild and rocky country, by which my feet were much bruised, and I
was sadly apprehensive that I should not he able to keep up with the
coffle during the day; but I was in a great measure relieved from this
anxiety when I observed that others were more exhausted than myself.  In
particular, the woman slave who had refused victuals in the morning began
now to lag behind, and complain dreadfully of pains in her legs.  Her
load was taken from her and given to another slave, and she was ordered
to keep in the front of the coffle.  About eleven o’clock, as we were
resting by a small rivulet, some of the people discovered a hive of bees
in a hollow tree, and they were proceeding to obtain the honey when the
largest swarm I ever beheld flew out, and, attacking the people of the
coffle, made us fly in all directions.  I took the alarm first, and, I
believe, was the only person who escaped with impunity.  When our enemies
thought fit to desist from pursuing us, and every person was employed in
picking out the stings he had received, it was discovered that the poor
woman above mentioned, whose name was Nealee, was not come up; and as
many of the slaves in their retreat had left their brindles behind them,
it became necessary for some persons to return and bring them.  In order
to do this with safety, fire was set to the grass a considerable way to
the eastward of the hive, and, the wind driving the fire furiously along,
the party pushed through the smoke and recovered the bundles.  They
likewise brought with them poor Nealee, whom they found lying by the
rivulet.  She was very much exhausted, and had crept to the stream in
hopes to defend herself from the bees by throwing water over her body;
but this proved ineffectual, for she was stung in the most dreadful
manner.

When the slatees had picked out the stings as far as they could, she was
washed with water and then rubbed with bruised leaves; but the wretched
woman obstinately refused to proceed any farther, declaring that she
would rather die than walk another step.  As entreaties and threats were
used in vain, the whip was at length applied; and after bearing patiently
a few strokes she started up and walked with tolerable expedition for
four or five hours longer, when she made an attempt to run away from the
coffle, but was so very weak that she fell down in the grass.  Though she
was unable to rise, the whip was a second time applied, but without
effect; upon which Karfa desired two of the slatees to place her upon the
ass which carried our dry provisions; but she could not sit erect, and
the ass being very refractory it was found impossible to carry her
forward in that manner.  The slatees, however, were unwilling to abandon
her, the day’s journey being nearly ended; they therefore made a sort of
litter of bamboo-canes, upon which she was placed, and tied on it with
slips of bark.  This litter was carried upon the heads of two slaves, one
walking before the other, and they were followed by two others, who
relieved them occasionally.  In this manner the woman was carried forward
until it was dark, when we reached a stream of water at the foot of a
high hill called Gankaran-Kooro, and here we stopped for the night, and
set about preparing our supper.  As we had only ate one handful of meal
since the preceding night, and travelled all day in a hot sun, many of
the slaves who had loads upon their heads were very much fatigued, and
some of them _snapped their fingers_, which among the <DW64>s is a sure
sign of desperation.  The slatees immediately put them all in irons, and
such of them as had evinced signs of great despondency were kept apart
from the rest, and had their hands tied.  In the morning they were found
greatly recovered.

_April_ 25.—At daybreak poor Nealee was awakened, but her limbs were now
become so stiff and painful that she could neither walk nor stand; she
was therefore lifted, like a corpse, upon the back of the ass, and the
slatees endeavoured to secure her in that situation by fastening her
hands together under the ass’s neck, and her feet under the belly, with
long slips of bark; but the ass was so very unruly that no sort of
treatment could induce him to proceed with his load, and as Nealee made
no exertion to prevent herself from falling she was quickly thrown off,
and had one of her legs much bruised.  Every attempt to carry her forward
being thus found ineffectual, the general cry of the coffle was
_Kang-tegi_, _kang-tegi_ (“Cut her throat, cut her throat”)—an operation
I did not wish to see performed, and therefore marched onwards with the
foremost of the coffle.  I had not walked above a mile, when one of
Karfa’s domestic slaves came up to me, with poor Nealea’s garment upon
the end of his bow, and exclaimed, _Nealee affeeleeta_ (“Nealee is
lost”)!  I asked him whether the slatees had given him the garment as a
reward for cutting her throat.  He replied that Karfa and the
schoolmaster would not consent to that measure, but had left her on the
road, where undoubtedly she soon perished, and was probably devoured by
wild beasts.

The sad fate of this wretched woman, notwithstanding the outcry before
mentioned, made a strong impression on the mind of the whole coffle, and
the schoolmaster fasted the whole of the ensuing day in consequence of
it.  We proceeded in deep silence, and soon afterwards crossed the river
Furkoomah, which was about as large as the river Wonda.  We now travelled
with great expedition, every one being apprehensive he might otherwise
meet with the fate of poor Nealee.  It was, however, with great
difficulty that I could keep up, although I threw away my spear and
everything that could in the least obstruct me.  About noon we saw a
large herd of elephants, but they suffered us to pass unmolested; and in
the evening we halted near a thicket of bamboo, but found no water, so
that we were forced to proceed four miles farther to a small stream,
where we stopped for the night.  We had marched this day, as I judged,
about twenty-six miles.

_April_ 26.—This morning two of the schoolmaster’s pupils complained much
of pains in their legs, and one of the slaves walked lame, the soles of
his feet being very much blistered and inflamed; we proceeded,
notwithstanding, and about eleven o’clock began to ascend a rocky hill
called Boki-Kooro, and it was past two in the afternoon before we reached
the level ground on the other side.  This was the most rocky road we had
yet encountered, and it hurt our feet much.  In a short time we arrived
at a pretty large river, called Boki, which we forded; it ran smooth and
clear over a bed of whinstone.  About a mile to the westward of the river
we came to a road which leads to the north-east towards Gadou, and seeing
the marks of many horses’ feet upon the soft sand, the slatees
conjectured that a party of plunderers had lately rode that way to fall
upon some town of Gadou; and lest they should discover upon their return
that we had passed, and attempt to pursue us by the marks of our feet,
the coffle was ordered to disperse and travel in a loose manner through
the high grass and bushes.  A little before it was dark, having crossed
the ridge of hills to the westward of the river Boki, we came to a well
called _Cullong Qui_ (White Sand Well), and here we rested for the night.

_April_ 27.—We departed from the well early in the morning, and walked on
with the greatest alacrity, in hopes of reaching a town before night.
The road during the forenoon led through extensive thickets of dry
bamboos.  About two o’clock we came to a stream called Nunkolo, where we
were each of us regaled with a handful of meal, which, according to a
superstitious custom, was not to be eaten until it was first moistened
with water from this stream.  About four o’clock we reached Sooseeta, a
small Jallonka village, situated in the district of Kullo, which
comprehends all that tract of country lying along the banks of the Black
River, or main branch of the Senegal.  These were the first human
habitations we had seen since we left the village to the westward of
Kinytakooro, having travelled in the course of the last five days upwards
of one hundred miles.  Here, after a great deal of entreaty, we were
provided with huts to sleep in, but the master of the village plainly
told us that he could not give us any provisions, as there had lately
been a great scarcity in this part of the country.  He assured us that,
before they had gathered in their present crops, the whole inhabitants of
Kullo had been for twenty-nine days without tasting corn, during which
time they supported themselves entirely upon the yellow powder which is
found in the pods of the _nitta_, so called by the natives, a species of
mimosa, and upon the seeds of the bamboo-cane, which, when properly
pounded and dressed, taste very much like rice.  As our dry provisions
were not yet exhausted, a considerable quantity of kouskous was dressed
for supper, and many of the villagers were invited to take part of the
repast; but they made a very bad return for this kindness, for in the
night they seized upon one of the schoolmaster’s boys, who had fallen
asleep under the bentang tree, and carried him away.  The boy fortunately
awoke before he was far from the village, and, setting up a loud scream,
the man who carried him put his hand upon his mouth and ran with him into
the woods; but afterwards understanding that he belonged to the
schoolmaster, whose place of residence is only three days’ journey
distant, he thought, I suppose, that he could not retain him as a slave
without the schoolmaster’s knowledge, and therefore stripped off the
boy’s clothes and permitted him to return.

_April_ 28.—Early in the morning we departed from Sooseeta, and about ten
o’clock came to an unwalled town, called Manna, the inhabitants of which
were employed in collecting the fruit of the nitta-trees, which are very
numerous in this neighbourhood.  The pods are long and narrow, and
contain a few black seeds, enveloped in the fine mealy powder before
mentioned; the meal itself is of a bright yellow colour, resembling the
flour of sulphur, and has a sweet mucilaginous taste.  When eaten by
itself it is clammy, but when mixed with milk or water it constitutes a
very pleasant and nourishing article of diet.

The language of the people of Manna is the same that is spoken all over
that extensive and hilly country called Jallonkadoo.  Some of the words
have a great affinity to the Mandingo, but the natives themselves
consider it as a distinct language.  Their numerals are these:—

One        Kidding.
Two        Fidding.
Three      Sarra.
Four       Nani.
Five       Soolo.
Six        Seni.
Seven      Soolo ma fidding.
Eight      Soolo ma sarra.
Nine       Soolo ma nani.
Ten        Nuff.

The Jallonkas, like the Mandingoes, are governed by a number of petty
chiefs, who are in a great measure independent of each other.  They have
no common sovereign, and the chiefs are seldom upon such terms of
friendship as to assist each other even in war-time.  The chief of Manna,
with a number of his people, accompanied us to the banks of the Bafing,
or Black River (a principal branch of the Senegal), which we crossed upon
a bridge of bamboos of a very singular construction.  The river at this
place is smooth and deep, and has very little current.  Two tall trees,
when tied together by the tops, are sufficiently long to reach from one
side to the other, the roots resting upon the rocks, and the tops
floating in the water.  When a few trees have been placed in this
direction, they are covered with dry bamboos, so as to form a floating
bridge, with a sloping gangway at each end, where the trees rest upon the
rocks.  This bridge is carried away every year by the swelling of the
river in the rainy season, and is constantly rebuilt by the inhabitants
of Manna, who, on that account, expect a small tribute from every
passenger.

In the afternoon we passed several villages, at none of which we could
procure a lodging, and in the twilight we received information that two
hundred Jallonkas had assembled near a town called Melo, with a view to
plunder the coffle.  This induced us to alter our course, and we
travelled with great secrecy until midnight, when we approached a town
called Koba.  Before we entered the town the names of all the people
belonging to the coffle were called over, and a freeman and three slaves
were found to be missing.  Every person immediately concluded that the
slaves had murdered the freeman and made their escape.  It was therefore
agreed that six people should go back as far as the last village, and
endeavour to find his body, or collect some information concerning the
slaves.  In the meantime the coffle was ordered to lie concealed in a
cotton-field near a large nitta-tree, and nobody to speak except in a
whisper.  It was towards morning before the six men returned, having
heard nothing of the man or the slaves.  As none of us had tasted
victuals for the last twenty-four hours, it was agreed that we should go
into Koba and endeavour to procure some provisions.  We accordingly
entered the town before it was quite day, and Karfa purchased from the
chief man, for three strings of beads, a considerable quantity of ground
nuts, which we roasted and ate for breakfast.  We were afterwards
provided with huts, and rested here for the day.

About eleven o’clock, to our great joy and surprise, the freeman and
slaves who had parted from the coffle the preceding night entered the
town.  One of the slaves, it seems, had hurt his foot, and the night
being very dark they soon lost sight of the coffle.  The freeman, as soon
as he found himself alone with the slaves was aware of his own danger,
and insisted on putting them in irons.  The slaves were at first rather
unwilling to submit, but when he threatened to stab them one by one with
his spear, they made no farther resistance; and he remained with them
among the bushes until morning, when he let them out of irons, and came
to the town in hopes of hearing which route the coffle had taken.  The
information that we received concerning the Jallonkas who intended to rob
the coffle was this day confirmed, and we were forced to remain here
until the afternoon of the 30th, when Karfa hired a number of people to
protect us, and we proceeded to a village called Tinkingtang.  Departing
from this village on the day following, we crossed a high ridge of
mountains to the west of the Black River, and travelled over a rough
stony country until sunset, when we arrived at Lingicotta, a small
village in the district of Woradoo.  Here we shook out the last handful
of meal from our dry provision-bags, this being the second day, since we
crossed the Black River, that we had travelled from morning until night
without tasting one morsel of food.

_May_ 2.—We departed from Lingicotta; but the slaves being very much
fatigued, we halted for the night at a village about nine miles to the
westward, and procured some provisions through the interest of the
schoolmaster, who now sent forward a messenger to Malacotta, his native
town, to inform his friends of his arrival in the country, and to desire
them to provide the necessary quantity of victuals to entertain the
coffle for two or three days.

_May_ 3.—We set out for Malacotta, and about noon arrived at a village
near a considerable stream of water which flows to the westward.  Here we
determined to stop for the return of the messenger who had been sent to
Malacotta the day before; and as the natives assured me there were no
crocodiles in this stream, I went and bathed myself.  Very few people
here can swim, for they came in numbers to dissuade me from venturing
into a pool where they said the water would come over my head.  About two
o’clock the messenger returned from Malacotta, and the schoolmaster’s
elder brother, being impatient to see him, came along with the messenger
to meet him at this village.  The interview between the two brothers, who
had not seen each other for nine years, was very natural and affecting.
They fell upon each other’s neck, and it was some time before either of
them could speak.  At length, when the schoolmaster had a little
recovered himself, he took his brother by the hand, and turning round,
“This is the man,” said he, pointing to Karfa, “who has been my father in
Manding.  I would have pointed him out sooner to you, but my heart was
too full.”

We reached Malacotta in the evening, where we were well received.  This
is an unwalled town.  The huts for the most part are made of split cane,
twisted into a sort of wicker-work, and plastered over with mud.  Here we
remained three days, and were each day presented with a bullock from the
schoolmaster.  We were likewise well entertained by the townspeople, who
appear to be very active and industrious.  They make very good soap by
boiling ground nuts in water, and then adding a ley of wood-ashes.  They
likewise manufacture excellent iron, which they carry to Bondou to barter
for salt.  A party of the townspeople had lately returned from a trading
expedition of this kind, and brought information concerning a war between
Almami Abdulkader, king of Foota-Torra, and Damel, king of the Jaloffs.
The events of this war soon became a favourite subject with the singing
men and the common topic of conversation in all the kingdoms bordering
upon the Senegal and Gambia; and, as the account is somewhat singular, I
shall here abridge it for the reader’s information.  The king of
Foota-Torra, inflamed with a zeal for propagating his religion, had sent
an embassy to Damel similar to that which he had sent to Kasson, as has
been previously related.  The ambassador on the present occasion was
accompanied by two of the principal bushreens, who carried each a large
knife fixed on the top of a long pole.  As soon as he had procured
admission into the presence of Damel, and announced the pleasure of his
Sovereign, he ordered the bushreens to present the emblems of his
mission.  The two knives were accordingly laid before Damel, and the
ambassador explained himself as follows:—“With this knife,” said he,
“Abdulkader will condescend to shave the head of Damel, if Damel will
embrace the Mohammedan faith; and with this other knife Abdulkader will
cut the throat of Damel if Damel refuses to embrace it: take your
choice.”  Damel coolly told the ambassador that he had no choice to make;
he neither chose to have his head shaved nor his throat cut; and with
this answer the ambassador was civilly dismissed.  Abdulkader took his
measures accordingly, and with a powerful army invaded Damel’s country.
The inhabitants of the towns and villages filled up their wells,
destroyed their provisions, carried off their effects, and abandoned
their dwellings as he approached.  By this means he was led on from place
to place, until he had advanced three days’ journey into the country of
the Jaloffs.  He had, indeed, met with no opposition, but his army had
suffered so much from the scarcity of water that several of his men had
died by the way.  This induced him to direct his march towards a
watering-place in the woods, where his men, having quenched their thirst
and being overcome with fatigue, lay down carelessly to sleep among the
bushes.  In this situation they were attacked by Damel before daybreak
and completely routed.  Many of them were trampled to death as they lay
asleep by the Jaloff horses; others were killed in attempting to make
their escape; and a still greater number were taken prisoners.  Among the
latter was Abdulkader himself.  This ambitious, or, rather, frantic
prince, who but a month before had sent the threatening message to Damel,
was now himself led into his presence as a miserable captive.  The
behaviour of Damel on this occasion is never mentioned by the singing men
but in terms of the highest approbation; and it was indeed so
extraordinary in an African prince that the reader may find it difficult
to give credit to the recital.  When his royal prisoner was brought
before him in irons, and thrown upon the ground, the magnanimous Damel,
instead of setting his foot upon his neck and stabbing him with his
spear, according to custom in such cases, addressed him as
follows:—“Abdulkader, answer me this question.  If the chance of war had
placed me in your situation, and you in mine, how would you have treated
me?”  “I would have thrust my spear into your heart,” returned
Abdulkader, with great firmness; “and I know that a similar fate awaits
me.”  “Not so,” said Damel; “my spear is indeed red with the blood of
your subjects, killed in battle, and I could now give it a deeper stain
by dipping it in your own; but this would not build up my towns, nor
bring to life the thousands who fell in the woods.  I will not,
therefore, kill you in cold blood, but I will retain you as my slave,
until I perceive that your presence in your own kingdom will be no longer
dangerous to your neighbours, and then I will consider of the proper way
of disposing of you.”  Abdulkader was accordingly retained, and worked as
a slave for three months; at the end of which period Damel listened to
the solicitations of the inhabitants of Foota-Torra, and restored to them
their king.  Strange as this story may appear, I have no doubt of the
truth of it.  It was told me at Malacotta by the <DW64>s; it was
afterwards related to me by the Europeans on the Gambia, by some of the
French at Goree, and confirmed by nine slaves who were taken prisoners
along with Abdulkader by the watering-place in the woods and carried in
the same ship with me to the West Indies.




CHAPTER XXVI.
MEETING WITH DR. LAIDLEY—RETURN TO THE COAST—VOYAGE TO ENGLAND.


ON the 7th of May we departed from Malacotta, and having crossed the _Ba
Lee_ (Honey River), a branch of the Senegal, we arrived in the evening at
a walled town called Bintingala, where we rested two days.  From thence,
in one day more, we proceeded to Dindikoo, a small town situated at the
bottom of a high ridge of hills, from which this district is named
_Konkodoo_ (the country of mountains).  These hills are very productive
of gold.  I was shown a small quantity of this metal which had been
lately collected: the grains were about the usual size, but much flatter
than those of Manding, and were found in white quartz, which had been
broken to pieces by hammers.  At this town I met with a <DW64> whose hair
and skin were of a dull white colour.  He was of that sort which are
called in the Spanish West Indies _albinos_, or white <DW64>s.  The skin
is cadaverous and unsightly, and the natives considered this complexion
(I believe truly) as the effect of disease.

_May_ 11.—At daybreak we departed from Dindikoo, and, after a toilsome
day’s travel, arrived in the evening at Satadoo, the capital of a
district of the same name.  This town was formerly of considerable
extent, but many families had left it in consequence of the predatory
incursions of the Foulahs of Foota-Jalla, who made it a practice to come
secretly through the woods and carry off people from the cornfields and
even from the wells near the town.  In the afternoon of the 12th we
crossed the Falemé River, the same which I had formerly crossed at Bondou
in my journey eastward.  This river, at this season of the year, is
easily forded at this place, the stream being only about two feet deep.
The water is very pure, and flows rapidly over a bed of sand and gravel.
We lodged for the night at a small village called Medina, the sole
property of a Mandingo merchant who, by a long intercourse with
Europeans, has been induced to adopt some of their customs.  His victuals
were served up in pewter dishes, and even his houses were built after the
fashion of the English houses on the Gambia.

_May_ 13.—In the morning, as we were preparing to depart, a coffle of
slaves belonging to some Serawoolli traders crossed the river, and agreed
to proceed with us to Baniserile, the capital of Dentila—a very long
day’s journey from this place.  We accordingly set out together, and
travelled with great expedition through the woods until noon, when one of
the Serawoolli slaves dropped the load from his head, for which he was
smartly whipped.  The load was replaced, but he had not proceeded above a
mile before he let it fall a second time, for which he received the same
punishment.  After this he travelled in great pain until about two
o’clock, when we stopped to breathe a little by a pool of water, the day
being remarkably hot.  The poor slave was now so completely exhausted
that his master was obliged to release him from the rope, for he lay
motionless on the ground.  A Serawoolli, therefore, undertook to remain
with him and endeavour to bring him to the town during the cool of the
night; in the meanwhile we continued our route, and after a very hard
day’s travel, arrived at Baniserile late in the evening.

One of our slatees was a native of this place, from which he had been
absent three years.  This man invited me to go with him to his house, at
the gate of which his friends met him with many expressions of joy,
shaking hands with him, embracing him, and singing and dancing before
him.  As soon as he had seated himself upon a mat by the threshold of his
door, a young woman (his intended bride) brought a little water in a
calabash, and, kneeling down before him, desired him to wash his hands;
when he had done this the girl, with a tear of joy sparkling in her eyes,
drank the water—this being considered as the greatest proof she could
possibly give him of her fidelity and attachment.  About eight o’clock
the same evening the Serawoolli who had been left in the woods to take
care of the fatigued slave returned and told us that he was dead; the
general opinion, however, was that he himself had killed him or left him
to perish on the road, for the Serawoollies are said to be infinitely
more cruel in their treatment of slaves than the Mandingoes.  We remained
at Baniserile two days, in order to purchase native iron, shea-butter,
and some other articles for sale on the Gambia; and here the slatee who
had invited me to his house, and who possessed three slaves, part of the
coffle, having obtained information that the price on the coast was very
low, determined to separate from us and remain with his slaves where he
was until an opportunity should offer of disposing of them to
advantage—giving us to understand that he should complete his nuptials
with the young woman before mentioned in the meantime.

_May_ 16.—We departed from Baniserile and travelled through thick woods
until noon, when we saw at a distance the town of Julifunda, but did not
approach it, as we proposed to rest for the night at a large town called
Kirwani, which we reached about four o’clock in the afternoon.  This town
stands in a valley, and the country for more than a mile round it is
cleared of wood and well cultivated.  The inhabitants appear to be very
active and industrious, and seem to have carried the system of
agriculture to some degree of perfection, for they collect the dung of
their cattle into large heaps during the dry season for the purpose of
manuring their land with it at the proper time.  I saw nothing like this
in any other part of Africa.  Near the town are several smelting
furnaces, from which the natives obtain very good iron.  They afterwards
hammer the metal into small bars, about a foot in length and two inches
in breadth, one of which bars is sufficient to make two Mandingo
corn-hoes.  On the morning after our arrival we were visited by a slatee
of this place, who informed Karfa that among some slaves he had lately
purchased was a native of Foota-Jalla, and as that country was at no
great distance he could not safely employ him in the labours of the
field, lest he should effect his escape.  The slatee was therefore
desirous of exchanging this slave for one of Karfa’s, and offered some
cloth and shea-butter to induce Karfa to comply with the proposal, which
was accepted.  The slatee thereupon sent a boy to order the slave in
question to bring him a few ground-nuts.  The poor creature soon
afterwards entered the court in which we were sitting, having no
suspicion of what was negotiating, until the master caused the gate to be
shut, and told him to sit down.  The slave now saw his danger, and,
perceiving the gate to be shut upon him, threw down the nuts and jumped
over the fence.  He was immediately pursued and overtaken by the slatees,
who brought him back and secured him in irons, after which one of Karfa’s
slaves was released and delivered in exchange.  The unfortunate captive
was at first very much dejected, but in the course of a few days his
melancholy gradually subsided, and he became at length as cheerful as any
of his companions.

Departing from Kirwani on the morning of the 20th we entered the Tenda
Wilderness, of two days’ journey.  The woods were very thick, and the
country shelved towards the south-west.  About ten o’clock we met a
coffle of twenty-six people and seven loaded asses returning from the
Gambia.  Most of the men were armed with muskets, and had broad belts of
scarlet cloth over their shoulders and European hats upon their heads.
They informed us that there was very little demand for slaves on the
coast, as no vessel had arrived for some months past.  On hearing this
the Serawoollies, who had travelled with us from the Falemé River,
separated themselves and their slaves from the coffle.  They had not,
they said, the means of maintaining their slaves in Gambia until a vessel
should arrive, and were unwilling to sell them to disadvantage; they
therefore departed to the northward for Kajaaga.  We continued our route
through the wilderness, and travelled all day through a rugged country
covered with extensive thickets of bamboo.  At sunset, to our great joy,
we arrived at a pool of water near a large tabba-tree, whence the place
is called Tabbagee, and here we rested a few hours.  The water at this
season of the year is by no means plentiful in these woods, and as the
days were insufferably hot Karfa proposed to travel in the night.
Accordingly about eleven o’clock the slaves were taken out of their
irons, and the people of the coffle received orders to keep close
together, as well to prevent the slaves from attempting to escape as on
account of the wild beasts.  We travelled with great alacrity until
daybreak, when it was discovered that a free woman had parted from the
coffle in the night; her name was called until the woods resounded, but,
no answer being given, we conjectured that she had either mistaken the
road or that a lion had seized her unperceived.  At length it was agreed
that four people should go back a few miles to a small rivulet, where
some of the coffle had stopped to drink as we passed it in the night, and
that the coffle should wait for their return.  The sun was about an hour
high before the people came back with the woman, whom they found lying
fast asleep by the stream.  We now resumed our journey, and about eleven
o’clock reached a walled town called Tambacunda, where we were well
received.  Here we remained four days on account of a palaver which was
held on the following occasion:—Modi Lemina, one of the slatees belonging
to the coffle, had formerly married a woman of this town, who had borne
him two children; he afterwards went to Manding, and remained there eight
years without sending any account of himself during all that time to his
deserted wife, who, seeing no prospect of his return, at the end of three
years had married another man, to whom she had likewise borne two
children.  Lemina now claimed his wife; but the second husband refused to
deliver her up, insisting that by the laws of Africa when a man has been
three years absent from his wife, without giving her notice of his being
alive, the woman is at liberty to marry again.  After all the
circumstances had been fully investigated in an assembly of the chief
men, it was determined that the wife should make her choice, and be at
liberty either to return to the first husband, or continue with the
second, as she alone should think proper.  Favourable as this
determination was to the lady, she found it a difficult matter to make up
her mind, and requested time for consideration; but I think I could
perceive that _first love_ would carry the day.  Lemina was indeed
somewhat older than his rival, but he was also much richer.  What weight
this circumstance had in the scale of his wife’s affections I pretend not
to say.

On the morning of the 26th, as we departed from Tambacunda, Karfa
observed to me that there were no shea-trees farther to the westward than
this town.  I had collected and brought with me from Manding the leaves
and flowers of this tree, but they were so greatly bruised on the road
that I thought it best to gather another specimen at this place.  The
appearance of the fruit evidently places the shea-tree in the natural
order of _Sapotæ_, and it has some resemblance to the _mudhuca_ tree
described by Lieutenant Charles Hamilton in the “Asiatic Researches,”
vol. i., p. 300.

About one o’clock on the morning of the 26th we reached Sibikillin, a
walled village; but the inhabitants having the character of inhospitality
towards strangers, and of being much addicted to theft, we did not think
proper to enter the gate.  We rested a short time under a tree, and then
continued our route until it was dark, when we halted for the night by a
small stream running towards the Gambia.  Next day the road led over a
wild and rocky country, everywhere rising into hills and abounding with
monkeys and wild beasts.  In the rivulets among the hills we found great
plenty of fish.  This was a very hard day’s journey; and it was not until
sunset that we reached the village of Koomboo, near to which are the
ruins of a large town formerly destroyed by war.  The inhabitants of
Koomboo, like those of Sibikillin, have so bad a reputation that
strangers seldom lodge in the village; we accordingly rested for the
night in the fields, where we erected temporary huts for our protection,
there being great appearance of rain.

_May_ 28.—We departed from Koomboo, and slept at a Foulah town, about
seven miles to the westward; from which, on the day following, having
crossed a considerable branch of the Gambia, called Neola Koba, we
reached a well-inhabited part of the country.  Here are several towns
within sight of each other, collectively called Tenda, but each is
distinguished also by its particular name.  We lodged at one of them,
called Koba Tenda, where we remained the day following, in order to
procure provisions for our support in crossing the Simbani woods.  On the
30th we reached Jallacotta, a considerable town, but much infested by
Foulah banditti, who come through the woods from Bondou and steal
everything they can lay their hands on.  A few days before our arrival
they had stolen twenty head of cattle, and on the day following made a
second attempt, but were beaten off and one of them was taken prisoner.
Here one of the slaves belonging to the coffle, who had travelled with
great difficulty for the last three days, was found unable to proceed any
farther: his master (a singing man) proposed therefore to exchange him
for a young slave girl belonging to one of the townspeople.  The poor
girl was ignorant of her fate until the bundles were all tied up in the
morning, and the coffle ready to depart, when, coming with some other
young women to see the coffle set out, her master took her by the hand,
and delivered her to the singing man.  Never was a face of serenity more
suddenly changed into one of the deepest distress; the terror she
manifested on having the load put upon her head and the rope fastened
round her neck, and the sorrow with which she bade adieu to her
companions, were truly affecting.  About nine o’clock we crossed a large
plain covered with _ciboa_-trees (a species of palm), and came to the
river Nerico, a branch of the Gambia.  This was but a small river at this
time, but in the rainy season it is often dangerous to travellers.  As
soon as we had crossed this river, the singing men began to vociferate a
particular song, expressive of their joy at having got safe into the west
country, or, as they expressed it, _the land of the setting sun_.  The
country was found to be very level, and the soil a mixture of clay and
sand.  In the afternoon it rained hard, and we had recourse to the common
<DW64> umbrella, a large ciboa-leaf, which, being placed upon the head,
completely defends the whole body from the rain.  We lodged for the night
under the shade of a large tabba-tree, near the ruins of a village.  On
the morning following we crossed a stream called Noulico, and about two
o’clock, to my infinite joy, I saw myself once more on the banks of the
Gambia, which at this place, being deep and smooth, is navigable; but the
people told me that a little lower down the stream is so shallow that the
coffles frequently cross it on foot.

_June_ 2.—We departed from Seesukunda and passed a number of villages, at
none of which was the coffle permitted to stop, although we were all very
much fatigued.  It was four o’clock in the afternoon before we reached
Baraconda, where we rested one day.  Departing from Baraconda on the
morning of the 4th, we reached in a few hours Medina, the capital of the
king of Woolli’s dominions, from whom the reader may recollect I received
an hospitable reception in the beginning of December, 1795, in my journey
eastward.  I immediately inquired concerning the health of my good old
benefactor, and learned with great concern that he was dangerously ill.
As Karfa would not allow the coffle to stop, I could not present my
respects to the king in person, but I sent him word by the officer to
whom we paid customs that his prayers for my safety had not been
unavailing.  We continued our route until sunset, when we lodged at a
small village a little to the westward of Kootacunda, and on the day
following arrived at Jindey, where, eighteen months before, I had parted
from my friend Dr. Laidley—an interval during which I had not beheld the
face of a Christian, nor once heard the delightful sound of my native
language.

Being now arrived within a short distance of Pisania, from whence my
journey originally commenced, and learning that my friend Karfa was not
likely to meet with an immediate opportunity of selling his slaves on the
Gambia, it occurred to me to suggest to him that he would find it for his
interest to leave them at Jindey until a market should offer.  Karfa
agreed with me in this opinion, and hired from the chief man of the town
huts for their accommodation, and a piece of land on which to employ them
in raising corn and other provisions for their maintenance.  With regard
to himself, he declared that he would not quit me until my departure from
Africa.  We set out accordingly—Karfa, myself, and one of the Foulahs
belonging to the coffle—early on the morning of the 9th; but although I
was now approaching the end of my tedious and toilsome journey, and
expected in another day to meet with countrymen and friends, I could not
part for the last time with my unfortunate fellow-travellers—doomed, as I
knew most of them to be, to a life of captivity and slavery in a foreign
land—without great emotion.  During a wearisome peregrination of more
than five hundred British miles, exposed to the burning rays of a
tropical sun, these poor slaves, amidst their own infinitely greater
sufferings, would commiserate mine, and, frequently of their own accord,
bring water to quench my thirst, and at night collect branches and leaves
to prepare me a bed in the wilderness.  We parted with reciprocal
expressions of regret and benediction.  My good wishes and prayers were
all I could bestow upon them, and it afforded me some consolation to be
told that they were sensible I had no more to give.

My anxiety to get forward admitting of no delay on the road, we reached
Tendacunda in the evening, and were hospitably received at the house of
an aged black female called Seniora Camilla, a person who resided many
years at the English factory and spoke our language.  I was known to her
before I had left the Gambia at the outset of my journey, but my dress
and figure were now so different from the usual appearance of a European
that she was very excusable in mistaking me for a Moor.  When I told her
my name and country she surveyed me with great astonishment, and seemed
unwilling to give credit to the testimony of her senses.  She assured me
that none of the traders on the Gambia ever expected to see me again,
having been informed long ago that the Moors of Ludamar had murdered me,
as they had murdered Major Houghton.  I inquired for my two attendants,
Johnson and Demba, and learnt with great sorrow that neither of them was
returned.  Karfa, who had never before heard people converse in English,
listened to us with great attention.  Everything he saw seemed wonderful.
The furniture of the house, the chairs, &c., and particularly beds with
curtains, were objects of his great admiration, and he asked me a
thousand questions concerning the utility and necessity of different
articles, to some of which I found it difficult to give satisfactory
answers.

On the morning of the 10th Mr. Robert Ainsley, having learned that I was
at Tendacunda, came to meet me, and politely offered me the use of his
horse.  He informed me that Dr. Laidley had removed all his property to a
place called Kayee, a little farther down the river, and that he was then
gone to Doomasansa with his vessel to purchase rice, but would return in
a day or two.  He therefore invited me to stay with him at Pisania until
the doctor’s return.  I accepted the invitation, and being accompanied by
my friend Karfa, reached Pisania about ten o’clock.  Mr. Ainsley’s
schooner was lying at anchor before the place.  This was the most
surprising object which Karfa had yet seen.  He could not easily
comprehend the use of the masts, sails, and rigging; nor did he conceive
that it was possible, by any sort of contrivance, to make so large a body
move forwards by the common force of the wind.  The manner of fastening
together the different planks which composed the vessel, and filling up
the seams so as to exclude the water, was perfectly new to him; and I
found that the schooner, with her cable and anchor, kept Karfa in deep
meditation the greater part of the day.

About noon on the 12th Dr. Laidley returned from Doomasansa and received
me with great joy and satisfaction, as one risen from the dead.  Finding
that the wearing apparel which I had left under his care was not sold or
sent to England, I lost no time in resuming the English dress and
disrobing my chin of its venerable encumbrance.  Karfa surveyed me in my
British apparel with great delight, but regretted exceedingly that I had
taken off my beard, the loss of which, he said, had converted me from a
man into a boy.  Dr. Laidley readily undertook to discharge all the
pecuniary engagements which I had entered into since my departure from
the Gambia, and took my draft upon the association for the amount.  My
agreement with Karfa (as I have already related) was to pay him the value
of one prime slave, for which I had given him my bill upon Dr. Laidley
before we departed from Kamalia; for in case of my death on the road I
was unwilling that my benefactor should be a loser.  But this good
creature had continued to manifest towards me so much kindness that I
thought I made him but an inadequate recompense when I told him that he
was now to receive double the sum I had originally promised; and Dr.
Laidley assured him that he was ready to deliver the goods to that amount
whenever he thought proper to send for them.  Karfa was overpowered by
this unexpected token of my gratitude, and still more so when he heard
that I intended to send a handsome present to the good old schoolmaster,
Fankooma, at Malacotta.  He promised to carry up the goods along with his
own; and Dr. Laidley assured him that he would exert himself in assisting
him to dispose of his slaves to the best advantage the moment a slave
vessel should arrive.  These and other instances of attention and
kindness shown him by Dr. Laidley were not lost upon Karfa.  He would
often say to me, “My journey has indeed been prosperous!” But observing
the improved state of our manufactures and our manifest superiority in
the arts of civilised life, he would sometimes appear pensive, and
exclaim, with an involuntary sigh, _Fato fing inta feng_ (“Black men are
nothing”)!  At other times he would ask me, with great seriousness, what
could possibly have induced me, who was no trader, to think of exploring
so miserable a country as Africa.  He meant by this to signify that,
after what I must have witnessed in my own country, nothing in Africa
could in his opinion deserve a moment’s attention.  I have preserved
these little traits of character in this worthy <DW64>, not only from
regard to the man, but also because they appear to me to demonstrate that
he possessed a mind _above his condition_.  And to such of my readers as
love to contemplate human nature in all its varieties, and to trace its
progress from rudeness to refinement, I hope the account I have given of
this poor African will not be unacceptable.

No European vessel had arrived at Gambia for many months previous to my
return from the interior, and as the rainy season was now setting in I
persuaded Karfa to return to his people at Jindey.  He parted with me on
the 14th with great tenderness; but as I had little hopes of being able
to quit Africa for the remainder of the year, I told him, as the fact
was, that I expected to see him again before my departure.  In this,
however, I was luckily disappointed, and my narrative now hastens to its
conclusion; for on the 15th, the ship _Charlestown_, an American vessel,
commanded by Mr. Charles Harris, entered the river.  She came for slaves,
intending to touch at Goree to fill up, and to proceed from thence to
South Carolina.  As the European merchants on the Gambia had at this time
a great many slaves on hand, they agreed with the captain to purchase the
whole of his cargo, consisting chiefly of rum and tobacco, and deliver
him slaves to the amount in the course of two days.  This afforded me
such an opportunity of returning, though by a circuitous route, to my
native country as I thought was not to be neglected.  I therefore
immediately engaged my passage in this vessel for America; and having
taken leave of Dr. Laidley, to whose kindness I was so largely indebted,
and my other friends on the river, I embarked at Kayee on the 17th day of
June.

Our passage down the river was tedious and fatiguing; and the weather was
so hot, moist, and unhealthy, that before our arrival at Goree four of
the seamen, the surgeon, and three of the slaves had died of fevers.  At
Goree we were detained, for want of provisions, until the beginning of
October.

The number of slaves received on board this vessel, both on the Gambia
and at Goree, was one hundred and thirty, of whom about twenty-five had
been, I suppose, of free condition in Africa, as most of those, being
bushreens, could write a little Arabic.  Nine of them had become captives
in the religious war between Abdulkader and Damel, mentioned in the
latter part of the preceding chapter.  Two of the others had seen me as I
passed through Bondou, and many of them had heard of me in the interior
countries.  My conversation with them, in their native language, gave
them great comfort; and as the surgeon was dead I consented to act in a
medical capacity in his room for the remainder of the voyage.  They had
in truth need of every consolation in my power to bestow; not that I
observed any wanton acts of cruelty practised either by the master or the
seamen towards them, but the mode of confining and securing <DW64>s in
the American slave-ships (owing chiefly to the weakness of their crews)
being abundantly more rigid and severe than in British vessels employed
in the same traffic, made these poor creatures to suffer greatly, and a
general sickness prevailed amongst them.  Besides the three who died on
the Gambia, and six or eight while we remained at Goree, eleven perished
at sea, and many of the survivors were reduced to a very weak and
emaciated condition.

In the midst of these distresses the vessel, after having been three
weeks at sea, became so extremely leaky as to require constant exertion
at the pumps.  It was found necessary therefore to take some of the
ablest of the <DW64> men out of irons and employ them in this labour, in
which they were often worked beyond their strength.  This produced a
complication of miseries not easily to be described.  We were, however,
relieved much sooner than I expected, for, the leak continuing to gain
upon us, notwithstanding our utmost exertions to clear the vessel, the
seamen insisted on bearing away for the West Indies, as affording the
only chance of saving our lives.  Accordingly, after some objections on
the part of the master, we directed our course for Antigua, and
fortunately made that island in about thirty-five days after our
departure from Goree.  Yet even at this juncture we narrowly escaped
destruction, for on approaching the north-west side of the island we
struck on the Diamond Rock and got into St. John’s Harbour with great
difficulty.  The vessel was afterwards condemned as unfit for sea, and
the slaves, as I have heard, were ordered to be sold for the benefit of
the owners.

At this island I remained ten days, when the _Chesterfield_ packet,
homeward bound from the Leeward Islands, touching at St. John’s for the
Antigua mail, I took my passage in that vessel.  We sailed on the 24th of
November, and after a short but tempestuous voyage arrived at Falmouth on
the 22nd of December, from whence I immediately set out for London;
having been absent from England two years and seven months.




NOTE.


THE following passage from James Montgomery’s poem, “The West Indies,”
published in 1810, was inspired by “Mungo Park’s Travels in the Interior
of Africa.”  It enshrines in English verse the beautiful incident of the
<DW64> woman’s song of “Charity” (on page 190 of the first of these two
volumes), and closes with the poet’s blessing upon Mungo Park himself,
who had sailed five years before upon the second journey, from which he
had not returned, and whose fate did not become known until five years
later.

    Man, through all ages of revolving time,
    Unchanging man, in every varying clime,
    Deems his own land of every land the pride,
    Beloved by Heaven o’er all the world beside;
    His home the spot of earth supremely blest,
    A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest.

       And is the <DW64> outlawed from his birth?
    Is he alone a stranger on the earth?
    Is there no shed whose peeping roof appears
    So lovely that it fills his eyes with tears?
    No land, whose name, in exile heard, will dart
    Ice through his veins and lightning through his heart?
    Ah! yes; beneath the beams of brighter skies
    His home amidst his father’s country lies;
    There with the partner of his soul he shares
    Love-mingled pleasures, love-divided cares;
    There, as with nature’s warmest filial fire,
    He soothes his blind and feeds his helpless sire;
    His children, sporting round his hut, behold
    How they shall cherish him when he is old,
    Trained by example from their tenderest youth
    To deeds of charity and words of truth.
    Is _he_ not blest?  Behold, at closing day,
    The <DW64> village swarms abroad to play;
    He treads the dance, through all its rapturous rounds,
    To the wild music of barbarian sounds;
    Or, stretched at ease where broad palmettos shower
    Delicious coolness in his shadowy bower,
    He feasts on tales of witchcraft, that give birth
    To breathless wonder or ecstatic mirth:
    Yet most delighted when, in rudest rhymes,
    The minstrel wakes the song of elder times,
    When men were heroes, slaves to Beauty’s charms,
    And all the joys of life were love and arms.
    Is not the <DW64> blest?  His generous soil
    With harvest plenty crowns his simple toil;
    More than his wants his flocks and fields afford:
    He loves to greet a stranger at his board:
    “The winds were roaring and the White Man fled;
    The rains of night descended on his head;
    The poor White Man sat down beneath our tree:
    Weary and faint and far from home was he:
    For him no mother fills with milk the bowl,
    No wife prepares the bread to cheer his soul.
    Pity the poor White Man, who sought our tree;
    No wife, no mother, and no home has he.”
    Thus sung the <DW64>’s daughters;—once again,
    O that the poor White Man might hear that strain!
    Whether the victim of the treacherous Moor,
    Or from the <DW64>’s hospitable door
    Spurned as a spy from Europe’s hateful clime,
    And left to perish for thy country’s crime,
    Or destined still, when all thy wanderings cease,
    On Albion’s lovely lap to rest in peace,
    Pilgrim! in heaven or earth, where’er thou be,
    Angels of mercy guide and comfort thee!

A note to the same poem gives the following record of facts,
substantiated in a court of justice, in which there can be only one
answer to the question, “Which were the savages?”

    “In this year (1783) certain underwriters desired to be heard against
    Gregson and others of Liverpool, in the case of the ship _Zong_,
    Captain Collingwood, alleging that the captain and officers of the
    said vessel threw overboard one hundred and thirty-two slaves alive
    into the sea, in order to defraud them by claiming the value of the
    said slaves, as if they had been lost in a natural way.  In the
    course of the trial which afterwards came on, it appeared that the
    slaves on board the _Zong_ were very sickly; that sixty of them had
    already died, and several were ill and likely to die, when the
    captain proposed to James Kelsal, the mate, and others to throw
    several of them overboard, stating that ‘if they died a natural
    death, the loss would fall upon the owners of the ship, but that if
    they were thrown into the sea, it would fall upon the underwriters.’
    He selected accordingly one hundred and thirty-two of the most sickly
    of the slaves.  Fifty-four of these were immediately thrown
    overboard, and forty-two were made to be partakers of their fate on
    the succeeding day.  In the course of three days afterwards the
    remaining twenty-six were brought upon deck to complete the number of
    victims.  The first sixteen submitted to be thrown into the sea, but
    the rest, with a noble resolution, would not suffer the offices to
    touch them, but leaped after their companions and shared their fate.

    “The plea which was set up in behalf of this atrocious and
    unparalleled act of wickedness was that the captain discovered, when
    he made the proposal, that he had only two hundred gallons of water
    on board, and that he had missed his port.  It was proved, however,
    in answer to this, that no one had been put upon short allowance; and
    that, as if Providence had determined to afford an unequivocal proof
    of the guilt, a shower of rain fell, and continued for three days,
    immediately after the second lot of slaves had been destroyed, by
    means of which they might have filled many of their vessels with
    water, and thus have prevented all necessity for the destruction of
    the third.

    “Mr. Granville Sharp (who after many years of struggle first obtained
    the decision of a court of justice that there _are_ no slaves in
    England) was present at this trial, and procured the attendance of a
    shorthand writer to take down the facts which should come out in the
    course of it.  These he gave to the public afterwards.  He
    communicated them also, with a copy of the trial, to the Lords of the
    Admiralty, as the guardians of justice upon the seas, and to the Duke
    of Portland, as principal Minister of state.  No notice, however, was
    taken by any of these of the information which had been thus sent
    them.”

Another incident of the Middle Passage suggested to James Montgomery a
poem called “The Voyage of the Blind.”

    “It was that fatal and perfidious bark,
    Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark.”

                                                       MILTON’S _Lycidas_.

The ship _Le Rodeur_, Captain B., of 200 tons burthen, left Havre on the
24th of January, 1819, for the coast of Africa, and reached her
destination on the 14th of March following, anchoring at Bonny, on the
river Calabar.  The crew, consisting of twenty-two men, enjoyed good
health during the outward voyage and during their stay at Bonny, where
they continued till the 6th of April.  They had observed no trace of
ophthalmia among the natives; and it was not until fifteen days after
they had set sail on the return voyage, and the vessel was near the
equator, that they perceived the first symptoms of this frightful malady.
It was then remarked that the <DW64>s, who to the number of 160 were
crowded together in the hold and between the decks, had contracted a
considerable redness of the eyes, which spread with singular rapidity.
No great attention was at first paid to these symptoms, which were
thought to be caused only by the want of air in the hold, and by the
scarcity of water, which had already begun to be felt.  At this time they
were limited to eight ounces of water a day for each person, which
quantity was afterwards reduced to the half of a wine-glass.  By the
advice of M. Maugnan, the surgeon of the ship, the <DW64>s, who had
hitherto remained shut up in the hold, were brought upon deck in
succession, in order that they might breathe a purer air.  But it became
necessary to abandon this expedient, salutary as it was, because many of
the <DW64>s, affected with _nostalgia_ (a passionate longing to return to
their native land), threw themselves into the sea, locked in each other’s
arms.

The disease, which had spread itself so rapidly and frightfully among the
Africans, soon began to infect all on board.  The danger also was greatly
increased by a malignant dysentery which prevailed at the time.  The
first of the crew who caught it was a sailor who slept under the deck
near the grated hatch which communicated with the hold.  The next day a
landsman was seized with ophthalmia; and in three days more the captain
and the whole ship’s company, except one sailor, who remained at the
helm, were blinded by the disorder.

All means of cure which the surgeon employed, while he was able to act,
proved ineffectual.  The sufferings of the crew, which were otherwise
intense, were aggravated by apprehension of revolt among the <DW64>s, and
the dread of not being able to reach the West Indies, if the only sailor
who had hitherto escaped the contagion, and on whom their whole hope
rested, should lose his sight, like the rest.  This calamity had actually
befallen the _Leon_, a Spanish vessel which the _Rodeur_ met on her
passage, and the whole of whose crew, having become blind, were under the
necessity of altogether abandoning the direction of their ship.  These
unhappy creatures, as they passed, earnestly entreated the charitable
interference of the seamen of the _Rodeur_; but these, under their own
affliction, could neither quit their vessel to go on board the _Leon_,
nor receive the crew of the latter into the _Rodeur_, where, on account
of the cargo of <DW64>s, there was scarcely room for themselves.  The
vessels therefore soon parted company, and the _Leon_ was never seen nor
heard of again, so far as could be traced at the publication of this
narrative.  In all probability, then, it was lost.  On the fate of _this_
vessel the poem is founded.

The _Rodeur_ reached Guadaloupe on the 21st of June, 1819, her crew being
in a most deplorable condition.  Of the <DW64>s, thirty-seven had become
perfectly blind, twelve had lost each an eye, and fourteen remained
otherwise blemished by the disease.  Of the crew, twelve, including the
surgeon, had entirely lost their sight; five escaped with an eye each,
and four were partially injured.




FOOTNOTES.


{7}  I should have before observed that I found the language of Bambarra
a sort of corrupted Mandingo.  After a little practice, I understood and
spoke it without difficulty.

{35}  There is another town of this name hereafter to be mentioned.

{58}  From a plant called _kabba_, that climbs like a vine upon the
trees.

{80}  Soon after baptism the children are marked in different parts of
the skin, in a manner resembling what is called _tattooing_ in the South
Sea Islands.

{82}  Chap. xxxi. vv. 26–28.

{92}   Poisoned arrows are used chiefly in war.  The poison, which is
said to be very deadly, is prepared from a shrub called _koono_ (a
species of _echites_), which is very common in the woods.  The leaves of
this shrub, when boiled with a small quantity of water, yield a thick
black juice, into which the <DW64>s dip a cotton thread: this thread they
fasten round the iron of the arrow in such a manner that it is almost
impossible to extract the arrow, when it has sunk beyond the barbs,
without leaving the iron point and the poisoned thread in the wound.

{93}  A minkalli is a quantity of gold nearly equal in value to ten
shillings sterling.

{104}  This is a large, spreading tree (a species of _sterculia_) under
which the bentang is commonly placed.

{109}  When a <DW64> takes up goods on credit from any of the Europeans on
the coast, and does not make payment at the time appointed, the European
is authorised by the laws of the country to seize upon the debtor
himself, if he can find him, or, if he cannot be found, on any person of
his family; or, in the last resort, on _any native of the same kingdom_.
The person thus seized on is detained, while his friends are sent in
quest of the debtor.  When he is found, a meeting is called of the chief
people of the place, and the debtor is compelled to ransom his friend by
fulfilling his engagements.  If he is unable to do this, his person is
immediately secured and sent down to the coast, and the other released.
If the debtor cannot be found, the person seized on is obliged to pay
double the amount of the debt, or is himself sold into slavery.  I was
given to understand, however, that this part of the law is seldom
enforced.




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