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Title: The Land of Fetish
Author: Ellis, A. B. (Alfred Burdon)
Language: English
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THE LAND OF FETISH
BY
A. B. ELLIS,
CAPTAIN FIRST WEST INDIA REGIMENT.
AUTHOR OF “WEST AFRICAN SKETCHES.”
LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL,
LIMITED,
11, HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
1883.
WESTMINSTER:
NICHOLS AND SONS, PRINTERS,
25, PARLIAMENT STREET.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
The Gambia--Bathurst--Jolloffs--Novel Advertisements--A
Neglected Highway--False Economy--History of the
Gambia--Musical Instruments--Burial Custom--Yahassu--St.
James Island 1
CHAPTER II.
British Combo--An interesting Conversation--Bakko--A
small Account--Sabbajee--Peculiar Governors--The
Gambia Militia--A new Field for Sportsmen 19
CHAPTER III.
The Slave Coast--Whydah--The Dahoman Palaver of 1876--The
Dahoman Army--An Unpleasant Bedfellow--The Snake
House--Dahoman Fetishism--Various Gods--A Curious
Ceremony--Importunate Relatives--The Dahoman Priesthood 35
CHAPTER IV.
The Amazons--Trying Drill--System of Espionage--The
Annual Customs--Human Sacrifices--The Dahoman Repulse
at Abbeokuta--Natural Features of
Dahomey--Agriculture--The Whydah Bunting 54
CHAPTER V.
Lagos--Small Change--A Ball--A Cheerful Companion--An
Anomalous Sight--History of the Settlement--The Naval
Attack of 1851 73
CHAPTER VI.
Leeches--Ikorudu--A Blue-blood Negro--Badagry--Flying
Foxes--Fetishes--A Smuggler entrapped--Floating
Islands--Porto Novo--Thirsty Gods--Cruel Kindness 95
CHAPTER VII.
The Niger Delta--Gloomy Region--Cannibals--King
Pepple--Bonny-town--Rival Chiefs--Dignitaries of the
Church--Missions--Curlews--A Night Adventure--A Bonny
_Bonne Bouche_ 111
CHAPTER VIII.
Old Calabar--Duke Town--Capital Punishments--Moistening
the Ancestral Clay--A surgeon’s Liabilities--Man-eaters--A
Mongrel Consul--Curious Judgments 131
CHAPTER IX.
Sierra Leone--More Civility--Cobras--A Guilty
Conscience--Naval Types--Freetown Society--A Musical
Critic--The Rural Districts--A British Atrocity 143
CHAPTER X.
British Sherbro--The Bargroo River Expedition--Professional
Poisoners--An African Bogey--A Secret Society--A
Strange Story--A Struggle with Sharks--Startling News
from the Gold Coast 158
CHAPTER XI.
Ashanti Politics since 1874--The Secession of
Djuabin--Diplomatic Mistakes--The Conquest of
Djuabin--The Importation of Rifles--The Attempt on
Adansi--The Salt Scare--The Mission to Gaman and
Sefwhee--Dissensions in Coomassie--The War Party 178
CHAPTER XII.
Cape Coast--The Panic--The Golden Axe--Preparations for
Defence--Ansah--A Divided Command--A Second Message
from the King--Native Levies--Ordered to Anamaboe 207
CHAPTER XIII.
A Teacher of the Gospel--Anamaboe--A Third Message from
the King--Affairs in Coomassie--Downfall of the War
Party--False Rumours--Arrival of the Governor--A Fourth
Message from the King--Further Complications 227
CHAPTER XIV.
Arrival of Reinforcements--Sanitary Condition of Cape
Coast--Culpable Neglect--Meeting of Chiefs--The
Messengers from Sefwhee--Expedition to the
Bush--Its Effect upon the Ashantis 251
CHAPTER XV.
A Trip to Prahsu--Mansu--A Fiendish Réveille--Bush
Travelling--Prahsu--The King of Adansi--Masquerading
Costumes--The Camp--Strength of the Expedition 267
CHAPTER XVI.
Regulating the Sun--Arrival of the Ashanti Embassy--The
Palaver--Ciceronian Eloquence--A Diplomatic Fiction--A
Beautiful Simile--Physiognomies--Unhealthiness
of the Camp 281
CHAPTER XVII.
Another Interview--Atassi--An Importunate Investigation--A
Shocking Accident--Yancoomassie Assin--Draggled
Plumes--An Unintentional Insult--A Scientific
Experiment--The Palaver at Elmina--Our future
Policy--Recent Explorations on the River Volta 297
TOWER HILL BARRACKS,
SIERRA LEONE,
_November, 1882_.
THE LAND OF FETISH.
CHAPTER I.
The Gambia--Bathurst--Jolloffs--Novel Advertisements--A
Neglected Highway--False Economy--History of the Gambia--Musical
Instruments--Burial Custom--Yahassu--St. James’ Island.
My first visit to the Gambia took place in March 1877, from Sierra
Leone. After two days’ steaming from the latter place we passed Cape
Bald, with the two queer little Bijjals Islands in front of it, and
sighted Cape St. Mary at the entrance of the river. On the high ground,
at the point, could be seen the long low white building of the deserted
barracks, and the tops of mangrove trees could be faintly distinguished
above the level of the sea in the distance to the right and left as we
entered the estuary; while, making a long sweep of two or three miles,
we reached the Fairway buoy, picked up a pilot, and steamed up the
river.
Bathurst, St. Mary’s Island, does not appear to advantage from the
anchorage. The island is low-lying and flat; in front is a row of
staring white houses, with a few stunted silk-cotton trees and
hearse-plume like cocoa-nut palms mounting guard over them, and--and
that is all. The prospect was not inviting, but, hoping that it
might prove better than it looked, I hailed a boat, and was pulled
to the shore. On the way several curious Shiriree canoes, fashioned
like crocodiles, and full of men, passed down the river. The bows
were filled with wooden idols, and in each canoe was a man beating a
tom-tom, and howling some monotonous ditty in a minor key.
The island of St. Mary is a mere sandbank, barely raised above the
level of the river, (in fact a considerable portion of it is below
high-water mark,) and is separated from the mainland by a narrow
mangrove swamp, dignified by the name of Oyster Creek, which is
fordable at low water. The centre of the isle can boast of a little
solidity, as a ridge of rock, covering about twenty square yards,
there crops up through the sand, and is pointed out to strangers by
the inhabitants with much pride, as a proof that their _demesne_ has a
stable foundation. The island has apparently been formed of the sand
thrown up by the meeting of the inflowing tide with the current of the
river. A bar, or sandbank, is now in course of formation to the south
of the island from the same causes, and in a few centuries the British
possessions in the Gambia will receive a considerable accession of
territory in that direction.
The town of Bathurst is small and insignificant: there is a row of
habitable buildings, principally stores, built of brick and stone,
facing the river, and behind this lies the remainder of the town, which
consists of native huts built of palm-leaves, old boards, and matting.
There are no made roads, and every street is ankle-deep in sand. To one
side of an open space in the centre of the town stand the old barracks,
in which the West India troops were formerly quartered, and this, with
Government House, which though small is perhaps the most comfortable
in West Africa, are the only two buildings in Bathurst worth a second
glance.
The natives of the country north of the Gambia are Jolloffs, an
entirely distinct race of negroes, and, as far as my experience goes,
the only really black people to be found in West Africa. The colour of
the ordinary negro is a deep brown, but the skin of the Jolloffs is
of a dead dull black. Their features differ from those of other races
on the coast: the eyes are slightly oblique and almond-shaped, the
nose long and inclined to be aquiline, and the lower part of the face
less prognathous than is usual amongst Africans. There is a tradition
amongst them that they were once white, and it may be a fact that in
the dim past their ancestors were of Arab blood, and that their colour
may be accounted for by a succession of marriages with the aboriginal
women of the country. Many of them are remarkably like Arabs in every
other respect, and both sexes wear the Arab costume. The women dress
their wool, which they suffer to grow long, into innumerable ringlets,
each about a foot in length and of the thickness of a pencil, which
hang down in a mass on their necks; some of them are rather handsome,
and have regular features.
There is a colony of Jolloffs in Bathurst, but the majority of the
people of that race that one sees in the town are traders from the
interior, who bring down their ground-nuts to exchange for powder,
muskets, and Kola nuts. In the one street of stores, of which I have
spoken, long lithe Jolloffs may be seen coming out of the shops with
trade muskets, the stocks of which are painted a brilliant red, and
the barrels made of renovated pieces of old gas-pipe. Into these
unquestionably deadly weapons they pour two or three handfuls of
powder, and then fire them off in the road to test them. The test
frequently leaves nothing remaining but a fragment of barrel and stock,
and the practice is one that is rather startling to strangers who may
happen to be passing by. The Kola nuts (_Sterculia acuminata_) are
eaten by the natives habitually, as sailors chew tobacco. They are said
to be particularly useful to travellers, as they prevent all sensations
of hunger, thirst, or weariness. I ate two or three as an experiment,
but I did not find that I was any the less ready for my dinner at
the usual hour. They are imported from the Timmanee country, near
Sierra Leone, principally in the neighbourhood of the Great and Little
Scarcies rivers, to which part, though distant three hundred miles from
the Gambia, large canoes and boats resort solely for the purpose of
obtaining them.
The English-speaking and Christianized negroes in Bathurst, most of
whom are emigrants from Sierra Leone, are a vast improvement upon their
compatriots in that negro paradise. They positively do a little work
occasionally, and some few of them might even be called industrious.
I could not discover the cause of the improvement. Perhaps it is
owing to the good example of the Jolloffs, or to there not being such
a redundancy of missionaries in the Gambia; but I think it is more
probably due to the fact that the island is so small that there is no
spare land on which they can squat and do nothing (even if there were
any soil to produce anything), so that they are obliged to work or
starve. They build cutters of from twenty-five to sixty tons’ burden,
which are used by the French merchants for bringing produce down the
river from their outlying factories, and for carrying cargo between
Bathurst and Goree or Dacar.
In the one street of Bathurst there is a fairly good market-shed for
native vendors of fruit and green-stuff, and I was going to look round
and see what there was to buy when I caught sight of a large slab of
marble let in to the rubble wall of the gateway. It bore the following
legend:--
“This market was erected by Colonel Luke S. O’Connor during his
Governorship, A.D. ----.”
I said to myself, “Oh! indeed,” and passed on.
Thirty yards further down the road I saw a tablet attached to an old
swish wall. I walked up to it and read:--
“This wall was repaired during the Administration of Colonel Luke S.
O’Connor, Governor, A.D. ----.”
It did not appear to me that this was such a stupendous feat as to need
commemoration, so I turned down a side-street and walked on. In a few
minutes I met a pump standing in the middle of the road. I saw there
was an inscription on this too, and tried to avoid it, but a fatal
fascination drew me on, and I read:--
“This pump was erected for the benefit of the thirsty wayfarer during
the Governorship of Colonel Luke S. O’Connor, A.D. ----.”
I began to get rather tired of this, and turned towards the country,
where I thought there could not be any more advertisements of this
kind. I passed a dilapidated battery, which bore testimony in letters
of stone to the worth of the departed monarch, Colonel Luke S. O’Connor
the First, and approached the Colonial Hospital. From afar off I
perceived a slab of darker stone let into the masonry of the wall, and
I turned my head the other way. It was no use, I could not pass it, and
I groaned in spirit as I read:--
“This building was enlarged during the Administration of Colonel S.
Luke O’Connor, Governor, A.D. ----.”
I staggered away and wandered into a neglected grave-yard by the side
of the path to Oyster Creek. I was in hopes that I might be able to
sooth my mind by finding the grave of this departed potentate; but,
alas! after a long search I only found a tomb which bore the following
remarkable epitaph:
“Sacred to the memory of the bodies of three sailors, which were washed
on shore on March ----, A.D. ----. This monument was erected during the
Administration of Colonel Luke S. O’Connor, Governor.”
I left hastily. That man was not going to let his fame languish and die
for want of a few monumental inscriptions.
The Gambia river is a magnificent highway to the interior of this
portion of Africa. Its estuary measures twenty-seven miles in breadth
from Bald Cape to Punshavel, and though it is only two miles across
from Bathurst to Barra Point, directly opposite, it widens out to
a breadth of seven miles immediately above St. Mary’s Island. At
Macarthy’s Island, one hundred and forty-seven miles up the stream,
the river is four hundred yards broad; and vessels drawing ten feet of
water can ascend even up to some seventy miles above Yahlahlenda. Here,
as in our other West African possessions, we have been retrograding
of late years. Only some twelve years ago, Macarthy’s Island was
garrisoned by troops, European traders had factories there, and small
steamers went up the river as far as the falls of Barraconda; while the
British name was respected, and the British power dreaded, far and wide
among the warlike tribes dwelling upon the river banks. Now the troops
have been withdrawn from the Gambia, Macarthy’s Island is deserted,
and the natives laugh at the idea of England being a powerful kingdom,
since her might is only represented in Bathurst by a miserable force of
one hundred policemen. In fact the colony is quite at the mercy of the
native chiefs, and but for their internecine squabbles and jealousies
would have already fallen a prey to them.
In 1869 the Third West India Regiment, then stationed in the Gambia,
was, as a measure of economy, disbanded by the Liberal Government
then in power, the Minister for War stating that £20,000 a year would
be saved by the transaction. The immediate result of this measure was,
that when, in the same year, Bathurst was threatened by hostile tribes
from the mainland, the Administrator had no garrison for the protection
of the lives and property of British subjects, and was compelled to
apply for assistance to the French at Goree. Two French men-of-war were
at once sent, and the colony was saved. The effect of this incident was
that the British Government, without consulting the inhabitants of the
Gambia, or mooting the subject in Parliament, offered the colony to
France; and, in spite of the protests of the people, who represented
that they were Protestants and did not wish to be subject to a Roman
Catholic power, the transfer would have been completed but for the
outbreak of the Franco-German war. In 1874-5 the subject again cropped
up, and, as a Conservative ministry was then in office, the French
offered their settlements at Grand Bassam, Assinee, and Gaboon, in
exchange for the Gambia. It is probable that this exchange, which would
have been most advantageous for England, as through the acquisition
of Assinee we should be able to control the importation of arms to
Ashanti, would have been effected, had not the matter become entangled
with the religious question. The Exeter Hall party brought all their
influence into play, and the French offer was declined.
A more serious result of the disbandment of the Third West India
Regiment was the Ashanti war of 1873-4. When the Ashanti invading
army crossed the Prah, the Administrator of the Gold Coast had only
two hundred soldiers with which to defend a colony of more than two
hundred miles in extent. Had the Third West India Regiment been then in
existence, and been sent to the Gold Coast with the same promptitude
that characterized the despatch of the Second West India Regiment in
1881, the war of 1873 would equally have been nipped in the bud. As it
turned out, the interest of the money expended in that war would have
more than sufficed to keep up the Third West India Regiment; so that no
saving was effected after all.
Our possessions in the Gambia consist of St. Mary’s Island, a strip
of land one mile in breadth on the river bank opposite, called “the
_ceded_ mile,” about three square miles of unoccupied bush and swamp
higher up on the western bank of the river known as Albreda, Macarthy’s
Island, and British Combo. Bathurst alone is inhabited by Europeans,
nearly all of whom are French. The trade is entirely in French hands,
the exports consisting principally of ground-nuts, hides, and beeswax,
of which the first are shipped to France and used in the manufacture
of olive oil. From a commercial point of view we have nothing to lose
by exchanging the Gambia; and should France again broach the subject,
as the present Government is now, 1881, almost identical with that
which offered the settlement unconditionally in 1869, it could now
hardly refuse to part with it without stultifying its former action.
At present we are playing the part of the fabled dog in the manger: we
will not make use of the Gambia as a means of opening up the interior,
nor expend any money on the colony; and, although it is of no value
to us as it is, we will not give it up to another nation, to which
it would prove exceedingly useful, and which is willing to make the
necessary outlay for unclosing this long-closed artery.
Our connection with the Gambia dates from 1588, in which year Queen
Elizabeth granted a patent to some Exeter merchants to trade there.
Thirty years later a company was formed for the purpose of carrying on
this trade, which almost entirely consisted of “trafficking in black
ivory,” as slave-dealing was euphonically termed. After the abolition
of the slave-trade this settlement, in common with the others in West
Africa, declined, and the colony was almost abandoned, until in 1816
a new mercantile company was formed by British traders from Senegal.
A dependency of the Gambia is Bulama Island, which lies to the east
at the mouth of the river Jeba, and where Captain Beaver established a
settlement in 1791 at Dalrymple Bay. There used to be a small garrison
kept up here under a subaltern officer, but after nine officers, in
succession, had died at their post from the effects of the climate, the
Government seemed to think the experiment had had a fair trial, and
the troops were withdrawn. The Jeba river is unapproachable from the
Gambia by land, as between the two lies the Casamanza river with its
dense forests and swamps, and the inhabitants of that cheerful region
are ferocious savages and cannibals. The Administrator of the Gambia
exercises no jurisdiction of any description over the tribes dwelling
in the vicinity of the British settlements.
The Jolloffs are a musical race. Besides being the happy possessors of
the tom-tom, or native drum, the six-stringed native banjo, and the
long reed-instrument which seems universal in West Africa, they are
the inventors of various musical machines peculiar to themselves. The
most curious of these is one formed of slabs of a dark, heavy, and
close-grained wood, which when struck emits musical sounds, varying
in depth of tone according to the size and thickness of the piece
of wood, the larger pieces giving forth bass notes and the smaller
treble. These are arranged in regular order so as to form a complete
gamut, and fastened above the halves of calabashes. It is in fact a
native dulcimer, in which wood takes the place of glass. They have also
a kind of kettledrum, in which the skin is stretched across half an
enormous calabash, highly polished and sometimes elaborately carved.
Another instrument is a species of zither, having ten strings, all
of which are made of some vegetable fibre, though I have somewhere
read that it is considered impossible to obtain strings suitable for
stringed instruments from such a source. Some of their tunes are
rather pleasing, though perhaps monotonous; but if, as some musicians
assert, repetition may be considered a beauty, the Jolloffs may be well
satisfied with their national music.
The Jolloffs have a curious burial custom. The body of the deceased
is laid out in the inclosure, or yard, which surrounds every Jolloff
house, where the ladies of the family prepare the kous-kous, and their
lord and master prays at morning and evening; and, when it is about to
be carried out for sepulture, the funeral party, instead of taking it
through the gate, proceed to demolish the whole fence. They consider
that it would be fatal to the deceased’s hopes of future bliss if his
body passed through any gate before he crossed the bridge of Al Sirat
and knocked at the door of paradise. Expectoration seems to be the
commonest form in which grief is exhibited by Jolloffs. Of course the
men never show even this sign of weakness; but the women at funeral
customs, or when they are grieved about anything, fill up the pauses of
their dirge, or complaint, with vigorous discharges of saliva. Any fly
within a radius of ten feet has but small chance of escape.
The Jolloff country extends from the Gambia to the French possessions
on the Senegal river, and is divided into three independent kingdoms,
viz. Senaar or Senegal, Saulaem, and Ballah. A late king of Senaar,
Jumail by name, was a source of considerable anxiety to the French, and
kept up a standing army of ten or twelve thousand cavalry, with which
he made frequent raids on the settlements. The religion of these people
is purely Mohammedan.
During one of my visits to the Gambia I crossed the river to look at
the country of the “ceded mile,” opposite Bathurst. At the extremity of
a promontory, where the visitor is usually landed, are the remains of
a small fort, called Fort Bullen, which has fallen into disuse since
the withdrawal of the troops; and from the summit of its walls one can
enjoy the pleasing prospect of miles upon miles of dwarf mangrove,
bounded on the horizon inland by a mass of tall cocoanut palms and
silk-cotton trees. To the east of the ceded mile lies the Mandingo
state of Barra, and to the west the country of the Shirirees, who are
idolaters.
The principal town in the British territory on this side of the river
is Yahassu; and the ride to it from Fort Bullen after the mangrove
strip is traversed is rather picturesque. The path throughout is shaded
by stately silk-cotton, teak, caoutchouc, and cedar trees; while
plantations of Indian corn and ground-nuts extend on either side.
Yahassu stands in the centre of an immense plantation of bananas, and,
like all Mandingo towns, is surrounded by a strong stockade, made of
the trunks of trees of different lengths, and consequently somewhat
irregular. The entrance is at a re-entering angle, and is defended by
a small brass cannon, the sole piece of artillery appertaining to the
town. The houses are all circular, and consist of a swish wall, about
four feet in height, with a conical thatched roof, the rafters of which
rest on an inner circular wall reaching to the apex, and forming an
inner apartment. The door of this second chamber is in a point of the
circumference of the inner circle diametrically opposite to the side
and into the outer circle, so that ingress to it is only obtainable
by traversing the first apartment, which is usually occupied by the
slaves, dependents, and household utensils of the proprietor. Each
house stands in a rectangular yard; and the streets of the town,
which are about six feet wide, are completely walled in by the plaited
palm-leaf fences of these yards. In the centre of the town is a square,
where stands a mosque, and a school in which the male children are
taught to read the Koran, which is written on wooden tablets whitened
with lime. In the neighbourhood of Yahassu, the last elephant seen in
this part of Africa was slain some twenty years ago.
After visiting one of these towns, one cannot help being struck with
the difference of manner between Christian and Mohammedan negroes.
The latter are courteous and dignified, never try to elbow a white
man out of the path, or shove against him, or pick a quarrel; and the
salutation, “Dam white nigger,” is replaced by the oriental “Salaam
Aleykoum,” “Peace be with you;” while the idleness, improvidence,
drunkenness, and ignorance of the former is replaced by industry,
frugality, temperance, and a certain amount of learning. Yet not
satisfied with looking after the converts they have already gained
or striving to obtain others from among the idolatrous pagans,
missionaries actually endeavour to reduce Mohammedans to the debased
condition of their Christian compatriots: fortunately they do not meet
with much success. However moralists may endeavour to explain the
cause, the fact remains that Christianity does not produce such good
results among negroes as do the tenets of Mohammed. Probably I shall
bring down a storm of indignation on my head by saying that I consider
the former is not a religion adapted to races barely emerging from
barbarism. At all events this is what my experience of South and West
Africa tells me.
About an hour’s row up the river from Bathurst is the island of St.
James, which was the site of the first British settlement established
in the Gambia. This isle, now so silent and deserted, was, towards the
end of the seventeenth century, the scene of much bloodshed. During
our numerous local wars with the French on this coast it was captured
by them, and re-captured by us, no less than three times. On the last
occasion a French naval force under the Count de Genes, in 1703,
destroyed all the houses and devastated the entire settlement; and it
was after this that the building of the town of Bathurst was commenced.
Why the new colonists did not re-occupy James Island it is difficult
to say, as it is fertile, well wooded, and fairly healthy, while St.
Mary’s is barren, treeless, and pestilential. The ruins of the old
fort, built in 1669, can still be distinguished from the river, covered
with brushwood and shrouded in trees. The island is now entirely
uninhabited, and its silence is never disturbed except by the advent of
an occasional fisherman from the neighbouring Mandingo town of Sikka.
It is from the Mandingo tribes, who inhabit the country bordering on
the river, that the supply of ground-nuts is principally obtained, and
in the swampy districts a good deal of rice is grown; they also trade
in beeswax and small quantities of gold. They are an industrious and,
generally speaking, harmless people, and a European, speaking Arabic,
might traverse the entire country alone and unarmed. To eat kola-nut
with, or present some kola-nuts to, a Mandingo or Jolloff, places a
stranger on the same footing as the tasting of salt does with an Arab;
and after such a ceremony one is entitled to protection and assistance.
A kola-nut is a good kind of passport and _viséd_ for any Mohammedan
town.
CHAPTER II.
British Combo--An interesting Conversation--Bakko--A small
Account--Sabbajee--Peculiar Governors--The Gambia Militia--A new
Field for Sportsmen.
Until I had visited British Combo I never could understand why it
was that old officers always spoke of the withdrawal of troops from
the Gambia with regret, and talked of that colony fondly as the best
station in West Africa; but after I had seen it, though shorn of its
former glories, it was quite comprehensible. Having borrowed from a
friend one of those diminutive but thoroughbred Arab horses common to
the country, I started from Bathurst one morning soon after daybreak on
my expedition. Passing the disgraceful burial-ground, and leaving to
the right Jolah town, which is inhabited by a race of outcasts supposed
to have no moral or religious code of any kind, and to possess their
women in common, I crossed a level tract of cultivated country, and
halted for a few minutes in the grove of palms at Oyster Creek. This
creek used to be the resort of the sporting members of the garrison,
who would supplement the somewhat scanty food supply of the colony
with green pigeons, wild ducks, curlew, and snipe from this place; but
now the report of a gun but rarely awakes its echoes.
On the other side of the creek I entered upon a swampy region,
consisting of stretches of sand and small lagoons surrounded by dwarf
mangroves; and after splashing through the last of these I found myself
in front of a dense growth of grass, eight or nine feet high. I thought
that if all the open country of which I had heard were like this I
should not care much about it, and rode into the narrow path which
lay before me. The grass closed overhead, and I could see nothing in
front but a long green tunnel, with occasional flecks of gold on the
sand where the sunlight broke through. The grass was heavy with dew; a
continual shower-bath of drops fell on me from above, and the long wet
stems brushed my legs on either side. I should have enjoyed it very
much if I had been unprovided with clothes, but I had not anticipated
this bath, and was consequently dressed.
After a couple of miles of this I emerged into an open plain, as
thoroughly wet through as if I had been towed behind a boat for a
quarter of an hour; but the view compensated for any little discomfort.
The country was of a dead level, covered with waving grass of a most
brilliant green, and dotted with clumps of palm and monkey-bread
trees; plantations of corn and ground-nuts appeared here and there;
the deserted barracks of Cape St. Mary glistened white in the sun from
a sand-ridge in the front; while to the left was the dense vegetation
and rich colouring of a tropical forest. In the foreground were several
of those peculiar trees which bear no leaves when in blossom, covered
with their scarlet tulip-like flowers, while herds of cattle in the
distance gave the scene almost a pastoral aspect. There may not seem
very much in this to cause ecstasy, but nobody who has not sojourned
for some months on the Gold Coast, surrounded by its interminable and
depressing bush, can understand the delight with which a little open
country may be greeted. The monkey-bread is not a handsome tree, and
might be compared to a distorted semaphore or a corpulent sign-post.
The trunks of these trees are sometimes immense, measuring from twenty
to twenty-five feet in circumference, but they only throw out two or
three stunted limbs, which can boast of but few twigs, and produce no
leaves to speak of.
I had reined in my horse near a conical ant-heap to look at a flock
of green parrots that were screaming round a crimson flowering shrub
when I observed two gorgeously-appareled Mandingos approaching me. One
wore a most elaborate turban, and his robe and sandals were highly
embroidered. He was apparently a chief, as the other, who was not much
behind-hand in the matter of brilliancy, was carrying, in addition to
his own spear, the curved sword and leather purse-bag of the former.
Both, it is needless to say, wore strings of leather-covered grisgris,
or amulets. I was anxious to air the little Arabic I knew, so as they
drew nigh I said,
“Salaam Aleykoum.”
They replied as one man, “Haira bi, haira bi,” and then stopped,
evidently waiting for more, while the spearman stirred up the sand with
the shaft of his weapon.
I was non-plussed, and thought that they were taking an unfair
advantage of me; but, as they both remained gazing upon me in an
attitude of earnest expectancy, I let off at them again my solitary
phrase, “Salaam Aleykoum.”
“Jam-diddi toh-chow haira-slocum-doodledum,” said the chief, or
something that sounded like it.
“Quite so,” I replied.
“Kara noona chi dodgemaroo,” he continued, excitedly.
“C’est vrai,” I responded, breaking out into another language in my
agony.
“Hanu sah daday,” he shouted, advancing towards me.
“Verbum sap,” I yelled, in despair.
“Ri-tiddi, to tolli, soh gamma,” they both shouted, and, bowing almost
to the earth, extended their hands deferentially towards me.
I shook them with unction, and they both passed on, highly gratified
with our interesting conversation, and pleased with the information
that I had given them. Really the Mandingos are a most intelligent
race, and how well these two understood what I had been telling them.
Riding on, I shortly arrived at a small village surrounded by a fence
made of palm-sticks, and further fortified on the exterior by hedges of
thorned acacia and prickly pear. This was the Mandingo town of Bakko,
and here the individual in whose honour the stone advertisements of
which I have spoken were erected was, during one of his numerous petty
expeditions, defeated with considerable loss by the natives under Hadji
Ismail, the black prophet. On that occasion a portion of the colonial
force was cut off and annihilated, while the remainder fell back
with considerable difficulty upon Bathurst, where, as the victorious
Mandingos followed up their success, and received large accessions to
their number from their warlike neighbours, the governor was obliged
ingloriously to apply to the French to save him and the colony.
I dismounted here, and was immediately surrounded by a crowd of naked
and grisgris-covered children, while three or four men lounging about
suspended their yawning and regarded me with stoical indifference. I
did not discharge my sentence at these, because I had learnt all the
news from the two with whom I had already conversed; and, besides, I
was rather fatigued with the previous conversation. After a few moments
a negro, clothed in the remnants of European garments, and whom in
consequence I inferred was not a Mohammedan, came up to me and said,
“Good morning.” He asked me what was my name, address, and occupation,
whether I was married or revelling in single bliss, if I had any rum
with me, and why I had come to Bakko; and in return vouchsafed the
information that he was a farmer. He said he would show me round the
town if I liked, so I left my horse in charge of a Mandingo and went
inside the fence.
The interior was a perfect labyrinth, and the houses similar to those
in the town of Yahassu, on the Barra side of the river, but smaller and
dirty. My guide pointed out to me several small edifices of palm-sticks
and bamboo, like miniature houses, raised upon piles inside the village
gate, and informed me that these were where the people kept their
corn. The doors to these granaries were merely bolted, and a piece of
paper, inscribed with a verse from the Koran in Arabic characters, was
fastened to each as a protection from thieves. My cicerone said,
“These are very foolish people, sar.”
“Are they? How?”
“They put dem writings on the bolts, and then think nobody can open the
doors.”
“Oh!”
“Yes; and them Mandingos won’t touch them when they’re leff so--they
’fraid to.”
“You’re not afraid, I suppose?”
“Me? No, I don’t care for grisgris. By’mby I show you my farm; when
these foolish people sleep on dark night, I take as much corn as I want
for planting time. They think it must be devil,” and he chuckled at the
joke.
“What religion are you then?”
“Oh! I b’long to the Wesleyans.”
“Ah! I thought so.”
My co-religionist informed me that the deer usually devoured half his
crops, and that leopards, and animals “that howled like drunken men at
night,” by which graphic description he meant hyenas, were so numerous
and bold in their raids on the poultry and dogs that the thorn hedges,
which I had noticed surrounding the village, were erected for their
special behoof. Beguiling the time with such artless conversation,
he led me round the village, and finally halted before a hut, which
he asked me to enter, saying it was his. As I thought he had been
unusually civil and obliging for an English-speaking negro, I did not
like to refuse, though I do not care to invade the sanctity of such
houses and inhale the odour thereof. I saw some six or seven women
suckling babies and pounding kous-kous, whom I learned were the wives
of my host, and sat down as far from them and as near to the door as
possible; while their lord and master produced a dirty-white piece of
paper and a lead pencil, and began writing away most laboriously.
After waiting a few minutes, and finding that my obliging friend was
still hard at work, I got up and said I was going. He added a few
finishing touches to his manuscript, came forward, and handed it to me.
I read as follows:--
Thomas Henry, services to European stranger from steamer.
£ _s._ _d._
1. To showing city of Bakko and
houses 0 15 0
2. To hunting information given as
to deer 0 2 6
3. Use of house for purpose of resting 0 10 6
4. To loss of time in performing
above services 0 1 0
--------------
£1 9 0
Isaid: “What does this mean? You don’t think I’m going to pay this, do
you?”
All the civility dropped from my guide’s manner like a mask, and he
said, jeeringly--
“I ’spose you call yourself a gen’leman.”
“I shall pay nothing of the sort,” I continued. “Do you think I’m a
fool?”
“Yes!”
I looked about for some implement of castigation, more weighty than my
light riding-whip, and said--
“What d’you say?”
He moved off to a safe distance, and replied:
“If you not a fool, I like to know what you come to this town for
nuffin for. You must be a fool, man.”
I saw there was nothing to be gained by following up this branch of
the discussion, so I returned to the original subject, and said,
decisively--
“I shall not pay you anything, for your impertinence.”
“’Spose you no pay, I keep the horse.”
The thought of what my friend’s face would be like if I returned to
Bathurst without his steed, was quite enough, and I hurried out of the
village to the spot where I had left the animal. He was nowhere to be
seen.
I felt then that I was up a tree of considerable altitude. If I went
back to Bathurst for police, the thief would decamp in my absence; and,
even if he obligingly remained to be caught, the delay of the law is
such that I should miss my passage by the steamer, which was to sail
next day. When I thought of my stupidity in leaving my horse, I began
to have an uncomfortable conviction that my guide’s estimate of my
character was correct; and I thought I should have to submit to his
extortion after all. While still deliberating on the probable results
of a violent assault on this amiable negro, a happy idea occurred to
me. I knew that in every Mohammedan town there was a head-man, or
alcaid, who, in those that were independent, was magistrate, governor,
and arbitrator in general, and answerable for the preservation of order
to the Mandingo king; while in those nominally subject to the British,
such as Bakko, he settled disputes between the natives, and regulated
the charges made against strangers for food and lodging; so I said to
my extortioner, who had followed me out of the village--
“I shall go to the head-man.”
My forlorn hope told; his countenance fell almost to zero; and without
waiting to consider that I did not know the alcaid, or where to find
him, and that if I did succeed in finding him I could not make him
understand my complaint, as I could not speak his language, he said,
sulkily,
“Well, I don’t want to make trouble, you can pay half.”
“I shall do nothing of the sort.”
“Give me five shillings, and the palaver’s set.”
“Certainly not.”
“Master, dash me two shillings for the boy that hold the horse, and I
go fetch him.”
I thought it would not do to push my advantage too far, so I agreed to
these terms, and in a few minutes this scoundrel brought out, from the
penetralia of some hovel in the village--my missing steed.
I climbed into the saddle, threw the money at the man’s head, and then,
with my whip--but no, I won’t say what I did, or I shall have the “poor
black brother society” of Exeter Hall down on me. It is sufficient to
say that I rode off in a more happy frame of mind, though still annoyed
to think that after the many years during which I had been acquainted
with the negro I should have been such an idiot as to imagine that a
Christianized and English-speaking low-class specimen of the species
could be polite and obliging without having some ulterior scheme of
insult or extortion in view.
On my return to Bathurst I learned that Bakko enjoyed anything but
an enviable reputation. It appeared that its inhabitants were outcast
Mandingos, who had found it advisable to leave their native country,
and who, while thoroughly grasping the full meaning of _meum_, had but
hazy and unsatisfactory notions as to the interpretation of _tuum_,
in consequence of which their society was rather avoided, and they
were rarely seen in the haunts of civilisation, except on those few
occasions on which the intelligent police might be observed escorting
them towards a public building yclept the jail.
From Bakko I rode on over open country, adorned with herds of
short-horned cattle and solitary pie-bald sheep with long tails, and
where occasionally the wild ostrich may be seen, to Josswang, close to
Cape St. Mary. There are a few houses here, which, in the palmy days
of the colony, were the country residences of the Bathurst merchants,
but which now are affected by the universal blight which has fallen
upon the settlement and fast becoming ruinous. Ten miles from Cape
St. Mary is the Mandingo town of Sabbajee, now belonging to British
Combo, which was the scene of one of the glorious exploits of the great
advertiser Colonel Luke S. O’Connor, who commanded a force which took
the town, stockaded like all such, by assault. That individual’s mania
for self-laudatory memorials was so great that on this occasion he, as
Governor, took away two large kettledrums which had been captured by
a West India Regiment, and, after a short interval, returned them to
the regiment, embellished with two silver plates, which set forth that
he, during his administration of the government, had presented these
drums to it for gallantry in the field; and then sent in a bill for the
plates.
He is not the only peculiar governor with which the Gambia has been
afflicted; one in particular I can remember who was notorious for his
parsimony throughout West Africa. I had known this potentate when
he revolved in a more humble sphere, and during one of my visits to
Bathurst (I shall not say in what year) I allowed myself the honour
of calling on him. At about 1 p.m. I presented myself at the door of
Government House and knocked; not a soul was to be seen anywhere, and
the place might have been deserted. I kept on knocking louder and
louder for some minutes, and then as nobody answered and the door was
wide open I walked in. I traversed one room, and, turning round the
corner of a screen, discovered a person attired in very seedy garments
employed in cutting mouthfuls off a slab of mahogany-coloured meat
which lay in a plate on a chair. This was the governor, but I should
never have recognised him in that position had it not been for the suit
of clothes he was wearing and which I remembered having seen on him
some years before. He received me with great affability, asked me to
sit down, and conversed about mutual acquaintances. He did not ask me
to join him in his lunch, for which I was not sorry, but he did ask me
to have a glass of wine. He said:
“Can I offer you a glass of pam wine?”
“I beg your pardon, I didn’t quite catch....”
“Will you take a glass of pam wine?”
I said, “I don’t quite know what you mean.”
“You don’t know pam wine? It is the sap of the pam tree; the natives
bring it round to sell. It is very refreshing.”
He meant that horrible emetic known as palm wine, and I declined with
thanks.
The subjects of this monarch said that he kept no servants, and made a
police orderly do all the housework. I saw nobody at all. They added
that he gave a small dinner once a quarter, and that everybody ate a
good square meal before going to it, because they knew that they would
not get enough to satisfy hunger at his table. All these West African
Governors neglect their duty in the matter of entertaining, though they
receive a special table allowance of £500 a year for that purpose.
A circular from the Colonial Office pointing out that that money is
intended for entertainment, and not for the defraying of ordinary
household expenses, would not be out of place.
The Gambia boasts of a local corps of militia. It is not often called
out, principally because there is no particular uniform for it, no
officers, except two unmilitary Colonial officials, and no arms, except
old trade muskets, for the men. As the latter are mostly decrepid old
pensioners and discharged men, all Africans, from the disbanded West
India regiments, it is not a very formidable body. It is a curious
fact that Africans cannot, as a rule, be taught to shoot straight: the
practice of the Houssa Constabulary on the Gold Coast is deplorable,
and it is well known that it is the bad shooting of the few Africans
who still remain in the existing West Indian Regiments that pulls down
the figure of merit in those corps. There is no such difficulty with
West Indian negroes, for the average recruit from the West Indies is
as good a shot as the British recruit, and this almost seems to show
that a certain amount of cultivation and civilisation is necessary for
making a marksman. In these days of long-range firing it is fortunate
that recruiting in Africa has ceased.
Should any of my readers feel tempted to visit the Gambia, I believe
that they would find a hitherto unopened field for sport at the
upper waters of that river. Certain it is that elephants abound
some distance above the falls of Barraconda, the river is full of
hippopotami and crocodiles; while leopards, hyænas, antelopes, and
civet-cats are easily found, by any one who knows how and where to
look, in the vicinity of Bathurst itself. Of the feathered tribes,
quail, curlew, snipe, duck, and the usual varieties of cranes and
parrots, are common; while the valuable marabout bird and the ostrich
are frequently bagged by the badly-armed and worse-shooting Mandingos
and Jolloffs.
CHAPTER III.
The Slave Coast--Whydah--The Dahoman Palaver of 1876--The
Dahoman Army--An Unpleasant Bedfellow--The Snake House--Dahoman
Fetishism--Various Gods--A Curious Ceremony--Importunate
Relatives--The Dahoman Priesthood.
Towards the end of the year 1879 I visited Whydah, the seaport of
Dahomey, on the Slave Coast. Between Whydah and the boundary of the
Gold Coast Colony, now advanced to Flohow, about two miles beyond the
old smuggling port of Danoe, are the ancient slave stations of Porto
Seguro, Bageida, Little Popo, and Grand Popo; and the lagoon system,
which commences with the Quittah Lagoon to the east of the river Volta,
extends along the whole of this coast as far as Lagos. These lagoons
are however gradually silting up, and this movement is proceeding so
rapidly that already canoes can only pass from Elmina Chica to Porto
Seguro during the rainy season, the old bed of the lagoon being a vast
arid plain during the summer.
Passing the clump of trees three miles east of Grand Popo known as
Mount Pulloy, and which is one of the principal landmarks of this
lowlying coast, we anchor off the town of Whydah, eleven miles from
Grand Popo. The landing here is very bad, the surf being worse than at
any other port in West Africa, and sharks abound. In fact in the spring
of 1879 the canoemen employed by the different trades at this place
struck work, so many of their number having been devoured by these
denizens of the deep.
The lagoon at Whydah is a quarter of a mile in breadth and from four to
five feet deep; it is separated from the sea by a sand-ridge, 880 yards
broad. On this sand-bank stand the stores and sheds of the different
mercantile firms, French, English, and German; but the traders are not
allowed by the Dahomans to live there, and after business hours they
have to cross over to the town of Whydah, which lies a mile and a half
inland on the northern shore of the lagoon.
The king of Dahomey is the only absolute monarch known in West Africa,
the power of all the other negro potentates being limited by the
influence and authority of the principal chiefs and captains, as that
of the king of Ashanti is limited by the dukes of Ashanti, but he of
Dahomey knows no other law than that of his own sweet will. Even the
European traders who reside at Whydah are to a considerable extent
subject to the native laws, or in other words to the king’s pleasure,
and none of them would be allowed to leave the country without
permission.
The king has some knowledge of European methods of raising a revenue,
and an _ad valorem_ duty is imposed on imported goods, while each
vessel on entering the port has to pay a certain quantity of goods,
assessed according to the number of her masts, to the king. To the
east and west of Whydah stake and wattle fences extend across the
lagoon, closing all passage except through small openings, where are
stationed his Majesty’s revenue officers, who stop and examine all
canoes passing through, and frequently help themselves to anything that
takes their fancy. Little Popo and Grand Popo are both claimed by the
king of Dahomey, but are really independent. As the natives of these
towns will not acknowledge him as suzerain he periodically makes raids
upon villages lying on the northern side of the lagoon. The two towns
themselves being situated on the sand-bank are safe from attack, as,
since the Dahomans attacked Grand Popo by water and were defeated, it
is a law that no Dahoman warrior shall enter a canoe.
In 1876 we had a difference with the king of Dahomey. In the early part
of that year Messrs. F. and A. Swanzy’s agent at Whydah, an English
gentleman, was maltreated by order of the caboceer of the town, and
subsequently sent to Abomey, the capital, as a prisoner. There he was
treated with every indignity, compelled to dance before the king’s
wives, and was daily dragged out, bareheaded, to be present at the
execution of criminals or sacrifice of human victims, hints not being
spared that he might shortly prepare himself for a similar fate.
Eventually, after being mulcted of money and goods, he was suffered to
escape.
As a compensation for this outrage on a British subject, Commodore
Hewett, who commanded the West African squadron, demanded a fine of one
thousand puncheons of palm-oil, and threatened to blockade the coast
from Adaffia to Lagos if it were not forthcoming. The king refused
to pay the fine, and the coast was blockaded from July 1st. Both the
Dahomans and the British residents in West Africa anticipated that war
would ensue. The king had impediments placed in the lagoon at Whydah
and collected bodies of Amazons in the vicinity of that town. On our
side the system of lagoons between Lagos and Dahomey was surveyed by
naval officers, and it was found that small steamers could ascend to
within thirty miles of Abomey. In September 1876 the Dahoman troops
advanced towards Little Popo, and destroyed several villages in that
neighbourhood; an attack on the British settlement at Quittah was also
threatened.
The blockade continued till 1877, when a French firm at Whydah, rather
than suffer their trade to remain at a standstill, paid, in the name
of the king, a first instalment of two hundred puncheons of palm-oil.
The whole of this was lost in the SS. Gambia, which was wrecked on the
Athol Rock off Cape Palmas. This was the first and last instalment
ever paid by, or for, the King of Dahomey; and in 1878 and 1879, when
a second instalment was demanded, the King flatly refused to pay
anything. The blockade, however, was not renewed.
Thus affairs remain at the present day. For an outrage on a British
subject we demand compensation, a portion of the sum demanded is paid
by a French house, and the matter is allowed to drop. This is almost a
repetition of what occurred with regard to the Ashanti war indemnity.
The Ashanti envoys who signed the conditions of peace paid to Sir
Garnet Wolseley 2,000 ounces out of the 50,000 demanded, and promised
to pay the rest by quarterly instalments. When the first became due
an officer was sent to Coomassie with an escort of constabulary to
receive it, and it was obtained without trouble; on the third occasion,
when the same officer, Captain Baker, was sent, the King said the gold
was not ready. Captain Baker replied that he would leave next day at
noon whether the gold was forthcoming or not. On the day following he
paraded his men and marched out amid hootings and derisive laughter,
but when he had reached the Ordah river runners overtook him with the
gold dust. The Colonial Government, however, thought it would not be
advisable to send for any more instalments, and no more have been paid.
West African natives are now beginning to regard Great Britain as a
power which is satisfied with threatening punishment, and one that
would not go to any trouble to obtain actual redress, especially where
the offending state was powerful.
It was indeed whispered in official circles on the Gold Coast that an
expedition to Abomey would have been undertaken but for the opposition
of the French Government. There is no doubt that the French are a
little sore at the withdrawal of our offer to give them our possessions
on the Gambia river, and this has been shown by their endeavouring to
intimidate the people of Catanoo into hoisting the French flag, and,
later, by their occupation of the island of Matacong near Sierra Leone;
but as far as regards Whydah neither France nor any other European
power has any claim to any portion of its soil.
The annexation of Whydah would not be a difficult matter, and that is
the only real obstacle to our possessing a compact colony extending
from Assinee to Lagos. We should find allies in the Egbas of
Abbeokuta, the people of Grand and Little Popo, and in the inhabitants
of Whydah itself, who, in the last century, were an independent people,
and who still bear no goodwill to their conquerors. The Amazons are
the _élite_ of the Dahoman army, and they have shown at Abbeokuta and
elsewhere that they can fight with a ferocity that more resembles
the blind rage of beasts of prey than human courage. Their number is
variously estimated at from 15,000 to 20,000, and their warlike spirit
is kept alive by a yearly war which commences every April. Numbers of
the male prisoners made in these periodical wars are drafted into the
Dahoman army, so that it may reasonably be supposed that a considerable
portion of the male army corps is but luke-warm in its fealty. The
whole Dahoman army is estimated at 60,000 soldiers, all of whom carry
fire-arms, and a great number breach-loaders, the importation of which
has of late years been carried on extensively at all parts of the West
Coast.
In 1876 it was proposed that a flotilla should ascend the lagoons
from Lagos to within thirty miles of Abomey and there disembark
troops. As however all that we should require would be the possession
of Whydah it seems objectless to proceed to Abomey, where we should
have to attack the enemy in the midst of his resources, and where, if
we did suffer a reverse, it would be irretrievable and none could
escape. A much less dangerous plan would be to land, unexpectedly,
at Grand Popo (the Whydah surf making the disembarcation of troops
there out of the question), a small force of from 800 to 1,000 men.
These men, proceeding by lagoon, would be in Whydah in two hours:
there are no Dahoman troops there, and there would be no resistance.
As Abomey is sixty miles from Whydah, a day and a-half would elapse
before intelligence of this occupation could reach the King, two days
at least would be occupied in mustering the army and performing the
fetish ceremonies necessary before commencing a war; and the army would
be another day and a-half on the march downwards, so that five days
would elapse between the entry of British troops into the town and
the arrival of the enemy. It is not at all improbable that if Whydah
were occupied in force the King, who is not by any means ignorant of
the power of Great Britain, would make the best of a bad business and
cede it to us with what grace he could. In any case by seizing his
solitary port we should make him entirely dependent upon us for the
African necessaries of life, viz., rum, tobacco, and gunpowder, and by
cutting off his supplies could soon bring him to terms. Our territorial
possessions in West Africa will surely increase, and as they do so and
fresh tribes are brought under our rule, some scheme of disarmament
similar to that carried out in South Africa will have to be enforced.
By occupying the Slave Coast we should be able to anticipate events by
prohibiting the importation of arms now, and at the same time we should
consolidate our West African possessions.
In Whydah are the remains of several so-called forts, some of which
are still inhabited, though the majority have fallen into disuse. The
principal are the English, French, and Portuguese forts, and consist
of swish buildings surrounded by loop-holed walls. They were built
early in the last century, when the King of Whydah, which was then an
independent state, allotted portions of ground to each nationality for
trading purposes. These old buildings, like all similar ones in West
Africa, are garnished with dozens of obsolete and useless guns.
Three out of the five districts into which the town of Whydah is
divided derive their names from these forts, being called English
Town, French Town, and Portuguese Town. The two remaining districts
are called Viceroy’s Town and Charchar Town. Each district is under
the superintendence of a yavogau or caboceer, who is responsible for
everything that occurs in his district.
While at Whydah I stayed at the French factory, and there I had a
rather unpleasant adventure on the night of my arrival. It was a very
close night, and I was sleeping in a grass hammock slung from the
joists of the roof, when I was awakened by something pressing heavily
on my chest. I put out my hand and felt a clammy object. It was a
snake. I sprang out of the hammock with more agility than I have ever
exhibited before or since, and turned up the lamp that was burning on
the table. I then discovered that my visitor was a python, from nine to
ten feet in length, who was making himself quite at home, and curling
himself up under the blanket in the hammock. I thought it was the most
sociable snake I had ever met, and I like snakes to be friendly when
they are in the same room with me, because then I can kill them the
more easily; so I went and called one of my French friends to borrow
a stick or cutlass with which to slay the intruder. When I told him
what I purposed doing he appeared exceedingly alarmed, and asked me
anxiously if I had yet injured the reptile in any way. I replied that
I had not, but that I was going to. He seemed very much relieved,
and said it was without doubt one of the fetish snakes from the
snake-house, and must on no account be harmed, and that he would send
and tell the priests, who would come and take it away in the morning.
He told me that a short time back the master of a merchant-vessel had
killed a python that had come into his room at night, thinking he was
only doing what was natural, and knowing nothing of the prejudices of
the natives, and had in consequence got into a good deal of trouble,
having been imprisoned for four or five days and made to pay a heavy
fine.
Next morning I went to see the snake-house. It is a circular hut, with
a conical roof made of palm-branches, and contained at that time from
200 to 250 snakes. They were all pythons, and of all sizes and ages;
the joists and sticks supporting the roof were completely covered
with them, and looking upwards one saw a vast writhing and undulating
mass of serpents. Several in a state of torpor, digesting their last
meal, were lying on the ground; and all seemed perfectly tame, as they
permitted the officiating priest to pull them about with very little
ceremony.
Ophiolotry takes precedence of all other forms of Dahoman religion, and
its priests and followers are most numerous. The python is regarded as
the emblem of bliss and prosperity, and to kill one of these sacred
boas is, strictly speaking, a capital offence, though now the full
penalty of the crime is seldom inflicted, and the sacrilegious culprit
is allowed to escape after being mulcted of his worldly goods, and
having “run-a-muck” through a crowd of snake-worshippers armed with
sticks and fire-brands. Any child who chances to touch, or to be
touched by, one of these holy reptiles, must be kept for the space of
one year at the fetish house under the charge of the priests, and at
the expense of the parents, to learn the various rites of ophiolotry
and the accompanying dancing and singing.
Fetishism in Dahomey is entirely different to fetishism on the Gold
Coast, and more nearly approaches idolatry, as the unsubstantial
shadows and apocryphal demons, which are worshipped and dreaded by the
Fantis and Ashantis, are on the Slave Coast replaced by images and
tangible objects. Before every house in Whydah one may perceive a cone
of baked clay, sometimes large and sometimes small, the apex of which
is discoloured with libations of palm-wine, palm-oil, &c. This is the
fetish Azoon, who protects streets, houses, and buildings of every
description.
By the side of each road leading from the town grotesque clay images,
roughly fashioned into the human shape in a crouching position, may be
perceived, protected from atmospheric influences by a rough shed. This
is Legba, who is sometimes represented of the sterner and sometimes of
the softer sex, and propitiatory offerings to this fetish are supposed
to remove barrenness. Somewhat similar to Legba is Bo, who is the
special guardian of soldiers.
The ocean is very generally worshipped, and has a chief fetish man
of high rank dedicated to its use, besides a large train of ordinary
fetish men. This high official at certain seasons descends to the
beach, shouts forth a series of incantations, and requests the sea to
calm itself, throwing at the same time offerings of corn, cowries,
or palm-oil into it. Sometimes, too, the King of Dahomey sends an
ambassador, arrayed in the proper insignia, with a gorgeous umbrella
and a rich dress, to his good friend the ocean. This ambassador is
taken far out to sea in a canoe, and is then thrown overboard and left
to drown or to be devoured by sharks. The honour of this diplomatic
post is not much coveted by Dahomans.
Perhaps the fetish most dreaded is So, the God of thunder and
lightning, as what are considered to be the effects of his anger
are frequently both seen and felt; So being supposed to strike with
lightning those who disbelieve in his power or presume to scoff at him.
It is unlawful for any person who has been killed by lightning to be
buried, and it is commonly believed on the Slave Coast that the bodies
of those who have met their death in this manner are cut up and eaten
by the priests of So.
A minor fetish is Ho-ho, who protects twins, who in Dahomey are always
named Ho-ho, as on the Gold Coast they are called Attah; and, in
addition to those I have already enumerated, and which are the most
commonly worshipped, the Dahomans worship the sun, the moon, fire, the
leopard, and the crocodile.
The Dahomans place around the house a country rope, _i.e._ one made of
grass, festooned with dead leaves, which is a fetish to prevent the
building taking fire. When a large fire occurs they frequently kill the
owner of the habitation in which it first broke out, considering that
it originated through some sacrilege or omission of fetish worship.
They also place a ridiculous caricature of the human form, made of
grass, old calabashes, or any rubbish, on the doorposts of their houses
and on the gates of inclosures, to keep evil spirits from entering
therein; and a fowl nailed to a post, with its head downwards, is
considered a charm to prevent an unfavourable wind.
The reverence which is paid to unusually tall and fine trees forms a
curious contrast to the foregoing barbarous beliefs. The silk-cotton
tree (_bombax_) and the well-known poison-tree of West Africa are those
most commonly selected. Libations in honour of these trees are poured
into perforated calabashes placed round their roots.
One morning I saw a Dahoman, arrayed in spotless white raiment, seated
on a mat in an open space opposite the factory, and surrounded by
a small crowd of enraptured lookers-on. My thirst for information
is so insatiable that I never can see a crowd without wanting to
ascertain what is the matter, so I put on my helmet and went out. I
found the individual in white surrounded by small calabashes; one
of which contained water, a second rum, a third kola-nuts, and a
fourth a live fowl; and an old fetish lady sat opposite to him on the
edge of the mat, swaying backwards and forwards, and singing some
excruciating ditty in a low voice. Presently she dipped her fingers
into the calabash full of water, and annointed the crown, forehead,
chin, and neck of the patient with the fluid; then she sang another
verse, and repeated the process with the rum. The man seemed decidedly
refreshed after this, and I thought it was perhaps some native kind of
shampooing. After a short interval the old woman selected a kola-nut,
hurled it violently to the ground, examined all the broken pieces, and
then, picking up one fragment that seemed to satisfy her, proceeded
to chew it. When it was sufficiently masticated, she removed it from
her mouth, and touched up the sufferer with it as before; then she
decapitated the fowl, and, taking the bleeding head, went over the same
ground, for the fourth time, with it. After that she, and as many of
the bystanders as had a chance, fell violently upon the calabash of rum
and drank it, and the meeting broke up. I was confident in my own mind
that the man who had been operated on was sick, and that what I had
seen was a fetish cure; but one of my French friends told me that it
was a ceremony of common occurrence, and that the man was worshipping
his head in order to obtain good fortune. I had noticed that he had
seemed relieved when it was all over, as if he had been glad to be able
to get out of his clean raiment, but his head did not appear to be any
better than it was before.
When a Dahoman falls ill he immediately fancies that the departed
spirit of one of his ancestors or relatives wishes to see him and
requires his presence below, and is undermining his health so that
the interview may be hastened by his death. To avoid this unwelcome
friendship he consults a fetish man, and begs him to use his influence
with the unquiet spirit, so that he may be excused paying the
unpleasant visit for the present; at the same time he deposits cowries
in the hands of the priest by way of fee. The latter, if he thinks
that the invalid is likely to recover, soon relieves his apprehensions
by telling him that he has obtained him permission to postpone the
interview indefinitely. If, on the other hand, the patient’s case be
doubtful, the fetish man procrastinates till more decided symptoms
set in; and then, if the disease be likely to terminate fatally, he
dolefully informs the sick man that he has used every means in his
power to conciliate the unquiet spirit, but without effect. This,
adding to the fears of the invalid, generally hastens the end.
A resident in Whydah told me that he once heard the following
conversation between a sick man and a priest. The sick man said:--
“Who is it that wants to see me, and is troubling me now?”
“Oh! it is the ghost of your brother Gele. He is anxious to have some
conversation.”
“Ah! it’s only him, is it? You’re sure there’s nobody else?”
“Oh! no--there’s nobody else.”
“Well just remind him, will you, how I used to thrash him when he was
alive; and tell him if he doesn’t leave off bothering me now I’ll make
him have a bad time of it when I go below.”
The future habitation of the Dahoman soul is supposed to be a gloomy
region situated under the earth, and like the world, but deprived of
most of its beauties and pleasures. A Dahoman, like the inhabitants of
the Gold Coast, believes in no future state of rewards and punishments,
and he is firmly persuaded that the social position which he holds in
life will be identically the same with that which he will hold in the
regions of the dead. A chief in life will be a chief after death, and a
slave will be a slave.
In Dahomey the fetish men are divided into distinct sects, according
to the deity for which they officiate--the priests of the snake-house,
for instance, having nothing to do with those of Legba, and so on.
The rancour, however, which is exhibited between the various sects of
Christianity is here wanting. When a Dahoman wishes to devote himself
to the service of the gods he is not permitted to choose any deity
he pleases. He has to work himself up into a state of frenzy, during
which an old priest places round him images of the different deities,
and the one with which he first comes in contact is the one which he
is destined to serve. These neophytes usually preserve some kind of
method in their madness, and take care to touch the representative of
that form of worship to which they are most inclined, though sometimes
accidents do happen and a wrong one is touched. The fetish men speak
a language peculiar to themselves, and unknown to the common people,
which they learn in the fetish schools, and call “the holy fetish
word.” They have likewise many privileges, and can wear any dress they
please; whereas the laity are obliged to clothe themselves according
to the positions which they hold in Dahoman society. When the fetish
fit, or frenzy, overtakes a priest, he can do anything he pleases
without being held accountable for it; ordinary people, therefore, do
not care to make enemies of priests.
CHAPTER IV.
The Amazons--Trying Drill--System of Espionage--The
Annual Customs--Human Sacrifices--The Dahoman Repulse at
Abbeokuta--Natural Features of Dahomey--Agriculture--The Whydah
Bunting.
I was wandering one day with one of my hosts, up the main road that
leads from Whydah to Kana, the second town of the kingdom, when we
heard the tinkle of a bell in front of us, momentarily drawing nearer.
Several Dahomans who were passing at once put down their loads and
rushed into the tall grass which bordered the road on either side,
while my companion stepped off the path and turned his back to it. I
said--
“What’s the matter?”
“The King’s wives are coming, and no man is allowed to look at them.
You must do as I do.”
“All right!”
I said “All right,” but I had not the remotest intention of losing such
a sight, so I stood behind him where he could not see what I was doing,
and, as the galaxy of beauty approached, I covered my face with my
hands and--looked through my fingers.
First came a young lady bearing in one hand a small bell, which she
rang incessantly, and in the other a whip, with which to drive male
loiterers into the bush. Her arms from the wrist to the elbow were
covered with amulets of silver, the distinguishing mark of officers
of Amazons, and she was further attired in a short tunic of blue and
white. She looked at me in a hesitating manner, as if she could not
make up her mind whether to use her whip on me or not, but, thinking
that I looked innocent and harmless, she grinned affably and passed
on. After her came fifteen or twenty more women, likewise attired in
blue and white tunics, and all armed. They were Amazons. The leader, or
captain, was not a bad-looking young woman, and carried a Winchester
repeating-rifle slung across her back: the rest were like the average
women of the country, that is to say, plain, and were armed some with
Enfield rifles and some with muskets. All wore cartridge-belts and
pouches, and carried long knives or _machetes_, with which it is said
they mutilate the wounded in a horrible manner. Several of them were
disfigured with the scars of long gashes on the cheeks and forehead,
the usual West African sign of slavery; all of them looked wiry and
muscular, and were covered with the cicatrices of old wounds. They soon
passed by, and their bell was heard tinkling in the distance.
When my companion found out what I had done, he was very angry. He
said that very serious consequences might have ensued, and that, as he
was a resident and I only a visitor, all the trouble would have fallen
on him. There was a good deal of truth in this, and I said I was very
sorry, but I had some difficulty in making my peace.
The institution of the armed body of Amazons dates from 1728, when the
then King of Dahomey, having had his forces greatly reduced by sickness
and the casualties of war, hit upon the happy expedient of arming a
number of women to recruit his forces.
These were trained as soldiers, and officers were selected from those
among them who showed the greatest aptitude. With these novel troops
the King obtained a signal victory over the people of Whydah.
The Amazons are sworn to strict celibacy, and the King alone has the
_privilege_ of choosing wives from their ranks. They are known in
Dahomey by the names of “The King’s Wives” and “Our Mothers,” live
in the King’s palace and there perform their fetish ceremonies with
great mystery. At the gate of the habitation, or barracks, of these
soldieresses, a curious fetish is hung, which is supposed to ensure the
certain exposure of any Amazon who has broken her vow of continence;
and the very fear of this fetish often causes the woman who has erred
to confess her fault, and doom both her lover and herself to a
horrible death. The stature and physique of the women of Dahomey, as
is the case in many other parts of Africa, are quite equal to that of
the men, and as all the labour falls to their share, their muscular
strength is perhaps more developed than that of the lords of creation.
The Amazon ranks are recruited by girls of from thirteen to fifteen
years of age, who are trained in military exercises, but not allowed to
bear arms till they have attained a more mature age; and women who have
committed capital offences are frequently allowed to escape punishment
by enlisting in this female body-guard. The training to which these
recruits are subjected inures them to hardship and to physical pain.
They are made to sleep out in inclement weather, to suffer blows
without a murmur, to fast and bear all privations.
Their drill is peculiarly unpleasant: one variety, which is supposed
to make them _au fait_ at scaling walls, consists of a succession of
rushes to, and clamberings to the top of, a tall hut covered with
prickly pear, the thorns of which lacerate them terribly. Drill of
this description was the cause of the numerous scars I had observed
on the bodies of the Amazons. I wonder how many recruits we should
obtain for the British army if, amongst other things, the recruit
had to precipitate himself upon _chevaux-de-frise_, or clamber over
walls adorned with pieces of broken glass. In battle, the Amazons
fire rapidly for a few minutes, then throw down their fire-arms, and,
uttering terrific screams and shouts, charge on the foe with their
knives. With these they do terrible execution, and even when shot down
and trampled under foot will fight on to the last gasp, making blind
stabs at the enemy above, and biting and tearing the feet and legs of
those standing over them. It would be difficult to prophesy how British
troops would meet these soldier-women at first, but experience would
soon teach them that they need have no compunction in shooting them
down.
The party of Amazons that I encountered had come down to Whydah to
take some caboceer, who had incurred the king’s displeasure, up to
Abomey. Everything that is done in Whydah is known to the king, for
a most complete system of espionage there prevails; every man, from
the yavogau, or chief caboceer, downwards, being watched by two or
more spies, who are themselves under surveillance. To have authentic
information of what goes on in the bosoms of the families of the
caboceers, the king sends them occasionally one or more of his wives,
who are no longer in the first blush of youth, as a present. This
honour cannot be declined, and the chiefs have to admit to their
families women whom they must treat with kindness, and whom they well
know are only sent to report upon their most secret conversations
and actions. By this system the king has made every man in Whydah
distrustful of every other, and, consequently, any conspiracy or revolt
against his authority impossible. Even such minute things as the number
of yards in each piece of print paid on a ship being entered at the
port are reported to him, and the unfortunate caboceer who had been
sent for was accused of having appropriated to his own use a small
piece of cloth, the trade value of which was at the most three or four
shillings, and for which he would now have to pay probably with his
head.
The “Customs” of Dahomey are three in number, viz.: The carrying
goods to market, the “Water Sprinkling,” and the Ahtoh. At the Water
Sprinkling custom, which means, in the Dahoman sense of the word, blood
sprinkling, the king sacrifices one or two slaves and pours their blood
upon the graves of his ancestors. This is done as a mark of respect,
and moreover is considered as necessary for the welfare of the deceased
by Dahomans, as masses for the souls of the dead are by the Roman
Catholic variety of Christians.
The great annual custom, which takes place towards the middle of the
month of May, and lasts for six weeks, is the most interesting. To this
custom all the subjects of the king are invited, and all travellers
or strangers in the kingdom are ordered to the capital. The first day
is taken up by levées, a review of the Amazons, and the usual dancing,
singing, and firing of guns; all of which takes place in the large
square, or market-place, of Abomey. The victims to be sacrificed are
confined in a wattle hut, called the victim-house, situated in this
square; each prisoner being bound to the stool on which he sits, and
further prevented from attempting to escape by long ropes fastened
securely to his limbs and stretched tightly to the beams forming the
shed. They are attired in long red caps adorned with festoons of
ribbons, and wear white shirts ornamented at the neck and sleeves with
scarlet, and with a large scarlet patch sewn on over the region of the
heart.
The second day of the custom is called “_Ekbah tong ekbeh_,” or
“Carrying goods to market,” and is really a display of all the more
portable wealth of the king. The performance opens with the exhibition
of the relics of the late king in a shed in the market-place; and all
present pay devout obeisance to them, believing that the spirit of the
departed despot is present, and that he would terribly resent any want
of respect. After this various dances symbolical of battle, such as the
charge, mélée, and the slaughter of prisoners, are performed by the
Amazons, the king himself sometimes taking part in them. The march-past
of the king’s worldly goods then takes place, and continues till
dark. The most extraordinary and incongruous exhibitions take place. A
procession of slaves bearing state-swords, gold and silver ornaments,
and articles of great intrinsic value, may be preceded or followed by
a band bearing vessels of crockery of the commonest and most homely
description. Articles of earthenware that are not usually exhibited in
public are here paraded in large numbers, mixed up in the strangest
confusion with silks, satins, umbrellas, Manchester prints, clocks,
bottles, pipes, tea-pots, cups, saucers, knives, forks, European
clothes, and all the miscellaneous rubbish which has been collecting
for years in the curiosity shop known as the Royal Treasury. Articles
of apparel of the seventeenth century are not uncommonly seen at this
custom, and there are many objects of _vertu_ which would delight
the heart of a Wardour Street connoisseur, and which were, probably,
originally presents to the king from the slave-traders of a century and
a-half ago.
The third day of the custom is known as “_Ek-gai nu Ahtoh_,” or “The
throwing of cowries from Ahtoh”; Ahtoh being an immense raised platform
which is built in the market-place specially for this ceremony. The
platform is hung with banners and flags and covered with cloth of every
conceivable hue, while over it spread the large canopies of the state
umbrellas, made of strips of brilliant-hued silks and satins. To one
side of this “Ahtoh” is an inclosure in which are the victims for
sacrifice, bound hand and foot, and fastened into small canoes, or long
baskets of stout wicker-work.
The king, accompanied by his wives and principal chiefs, occupies the
summit of Ahtoh, and from time to time throws into the crowd handfuls
of cowries and pieces of cloth, to be scrambled for. It is usually
supposed that the Dahoman public is admitted to this scramble, but it
is not so, and the whole ceremony is a fraud and a mere affectation
of generosity. Soldiers alone are allowed to scramble, and the goods
and cowries are their pay; for the Dahoman soldier, whether male or
female, receives no regular stipend. They are fed and clothed at the
king’s expense, and a moderate sum, the amount of which depends upon
the success that has attended the royal arms during the past year, is
set aside to be thrown from “Ahtoh.” The officers of the army generally
contrive in this scramble to obtain all the cloth, leaving the rank and
file to fight and struggle for the cowries; and in the wild confusion
that ensues men are not unfrequently maimed or trodden to death.
After the goods that have been set aside for this purpose have all been
thrown into the panting and perspiring crowd, the victims for sacrifice
are brought up on to Ahtoh, carried on men’s heads, and taken to the
edge of the platform to be shown to the mob. They are greeted with wild
yells and cries, the executioners thronging to the foot of the platform
and brandishing their knives, while the crowd arm themselves with clubs
and branches, calling on the king to feed them for they are hungry.
After a short speech from the monarch the first victim is brought to
the edge of the platform, and placed upright in his basket: the king
then pushes the upper portion of the bound mass, the man falls over
into the crowd in a second, and before the unfortunate wretch has time
to recover from the shock of the fall the head is severed from the
body; and the latter, after having been beaten into a shapeless mass by
the shrieking and frenzied mob, is dragged by the heels to a pit at a
little distance, and there left to be devoured by crows and buzzards.
The number of men sacrificed in public is about fourteen, of whom the
first three or four only are thrown down by the king; but, in addition
to the public sacrifices, a certain number of victims are allotted to
the Amazons, and are put to death by them within the precincts of the
palace, where no man may be present to inquire too inquisitively into
their peculiar rites.
In Dahomey we have none of those wholesale massacres in which hundreds
of human beings are sacrificed, such as occur from time to time in
Ashanti. In the latter country dozens of slaves are immolated at the
death of even a very minor chief, but in Dahomey only one slave is
allowed to be executed at the demise of the person next in authority
to the king himself, and the number annually put to death in the whole
kingdom is said not to exceed eighty.
The following is an instance of how horrors of this kind are
exaggerated. A few years ago England was convulsed with horror at
reading in the daily papers of hetacombs of slaves having been bled
to death in a broad and shallow pit at Abomey, so that the king might
enjoy the novelty of paddling about in a canoe in a sea of blood. What
really occurred was that at the grand custom, which always takes place
at the death of a king, the blood of the victims, about thirty in
number, was collected into shallow pools about three feet square, and
miniature canoes from six to nine inches long were set afloat in them.
The practice of human sacrifices is, however, gradually dying out
in Dahomey; and, year by year, the number of persons sacrificed
becomes smaller and smaller. The walls of the king’s palace, and
those surrounding the residences of some of the principal chiefs, are
generally crowned with human skulls, placed side by side throughout the
entire length. Not many years ago it was considered a sign of poverty
or of great neglect if any of these ghastly ornaments, which had become
destroyed from exposure to wind, sun, and rain, were not at once
replaced by fresh skulls. Now, however, they are suffered to decay, and
no one thinks it necessary to sacrifice a slave in order to keep the
coping of the wall of his yard in good condition.
No doubt the diminution in the number of sacrifices is in a great
measure due to the fact that there are no longer any small independent
tribes on the borders of Dahomey on whom war could be made, and from
whom a constant supply of victims could be obtained. This source was
exhausted in the early part of the present century; and the only people
against whom “slave hunts” can be organized are the Egbas, and these
have usually terminated so unfortunately for the Dahomans that they
seem lately to have lost all taste for the amusement. The persons
now commonly sacrificed at the “Customs” are criminals, and their
crimes would be punished capitally in even far more civilised kingdoms
than that of Dahomey, though scarcely with the same surroundings and
barbarity.
Abbeokuta, the capital of the Egbas, a town with a population of over
fifty thousand, is the usual point of attack of the Dahomans. It is
situated on the left bank of the Ogu river, and is inclosed with
thick mud walls some twenty-five feet high, loop-holed for musketry,
strengthened with flanking bastions, and further protected by a broad
and deep ditch.
The King of Dahomey suffered a rather severe repulse at his attack on
this town in 1851. For some months he had been threatening to destroy
Abbeokuta, being only restrained by the remonstrances of the British
consul; and, though at last diplomacy was found to be of no avail,
the Egbas had benefited by the respite which had been obtained for
them, and had been enabled to prepare for a vigorous defence. The van
of the Dahoman army, consisting of Amazons, arrived at the ford on
the river Ogu on the morning of March 3rd, 1851. The Egbas, who had
received ample intelligence concerning the movements of the Dahomans,
had mustered in force to dispute the passage of the river, and the
Amazons found themselves confronted by a body of some 12,000 or 15,000
men. Forming up in a dense column, they crossed the river with a rush,
cutting the Egba line in two and scattering the enemy like chaff. Had
they then followed up their first success it is probable that they
would have succeeded in entering the town with the rabble of fugitives,
but the male corps of the Dahoman army was some miles behind, having
been out-marched by the Amazons, and the commander of the latter did
not consider it advisable to enter a town containing 50,000 enemies
with a force of but 3,000 disciplined troops. The Amazons consequently
extended beyond the ford and remained halted until the male corps was
close at hand, when they advanced to the attack.
In the meantime every man, woman, and child in the town capable of
holding a musket had crowded to the walls, which were, in the words of
an eye-witness, “black with people, swarming like ants.” The Amazons
advanced across the plain, which was utterly destitute of cover, in a
species of column of companies; and, under a most furious discharge
of musketry, deployed into line; then, after firing rapidly for a few
moments, rushed madly on to the assault. Such a merciless shower of
balls and slugs met them from the walls that, notwithstanding the most
conspicuous gallantry and a wonderful contempt of death, they were
repulsed with considerable loss, and, retiring beyond musket-shot,
formed up in line facing the town. The Egbas did not venture to leave
their fortifications in pursuit.
By this time the male Dahoman army corps had crossed the ford, and,
advancing across the plain, extended to the right of the Amazons, so as
partly to encircle the town, and, if possible, embarrass the defence.
The whole force then advanced within musket-shot, and a furious
discharge took place on both sides. That portion of the plain which
was occupied by the right of the Dahoman attack was still covered with
dried and yellow grass reaching to the waist; the left being bare,
through the grass having been burned some days before. An American
missionary, who chanced to be in Abbeokuta, observing this, directed
those Egbas near him to fire the grass; and, a strong wind blowing at
the time towards the advancing Dahomans, in a few minutes a vast sheet
of flame bore down upon them. To conceive the rapidity with which a
fire will under favourable circumstances sweep across a plain of dried
grass, it is necessary to have witnessed such a sight. The male Dahoman
army corps, finding itself suddenly confronted by a roaring, crackling
pyramid of flame, fairly turned and fled. They had come out to fight,
not to be roasted, and they bolted for their lives. The king, as soon
as he saw the course affairs were taking, hastily recrossed the river
with some 200 followers, leaving orders for the Amazons to cover the
retreat and hold the ford till nightfall.
The victorious Egbas sallied out in thousands, and threw themselves
upon the devoted band of Amazons, who were extended in three lines,
with the flanks drawn back. In this order they kept at bay the whole
Egba force, the first line firing, retiring through the second and
third line, and then forming up again in rear to reload, and the whole
thus retreating slowly upon the river. Arrived at the ford, they formed
up in a compact mass; and, in spite of the repeated furious charges of
the Egbas, held their ground until nightfall, when the enemy drew off
and retired within their walls.
Early next morning the Amazons picked up such of their wounded as the
Egbas had not murdered, and retired in excellent order across the river
to the village of Johaga, about fifteen miles from Abbeokuta, the Egbas
hovering round them during their retrograde movement, but taking care
to keep at a safe distance. At Johaga a sharp skirmish took place,
resulting in the repulse of the Egbas; and from that point the retreat
of the Dahomans was not further molested.
The Dahoman force employed in this expedition consisted of some 3,000
Amazons and 5,000 male Dahomans. The Amazons lost very heavily,
nearly 1,800 dead women-soldiers being counted by the missionaries
of Abbeokuta at the ford and under the walls of the town. The men
being little engaged did not suffer much. The Egbas engaged outside
the town, both before and after the assault, were estimated at over
20,000, and quite 40,000 persons bore arms during the defence of the
fortifications. Very few Dahoman prisoners were taken: the Amazons even
when disarmed refused to surrender, fighting on, and biting their
foes, and were consequently hacked to pieces.
Since this repulse the king of Dahomey has been satisfied with making
mere demonstrations of force in the neighbourhood of Abbeokuta, burning
the outlying villages and destroying the plantations of plantains and
yams, and the fields of corn, without venturing to make any serious
attack upon the town itself. The Egbas had several wall-pieces and
heavy guns engaged during the assault, and these had done so much
execution, badly served as they were, that they at once, through the
medium of the missionaries, had a fresh supply of ordnance sent out
from England. The missionaries also, who were not at all desirous of
seeing their comfortable mission-houses burned and their vocation
destroyed, implored the Government to send discharged gunners from
West India regiments to Abbeokuta; and there was soon a small body of
trained artillerists in readiness for the next assault.
The natural features of Dahomey offer a remarkable contrast to those of
the Gold Coast. In place of the succession of ridges covered with dense
bush and forest, the monotony of which wearies the eye in the latter
country, one finds an open park-like country, nearly flat, and with a
sandy soil bearing clumps of trees, tall grass, and but very little
bush. The banks of streams and the hollows of water-courses are of
course densely wooded, and fine timber-trees are common. The country is
one specially adapted for agriculture, but only a very small portion
of the soil is under cultivation, for the Dahomans, having for years
indulged in the exciting and profitable amusement of “slave-hunting,”
cannot, now that the slave-trade has been suppressed, fall at once
into peaceable pursuits. Palm-oil and ground-nuts are however exported
in considerable quantities from Whydah, and, as soon as legitimate
commerce is found by the Dahomans to be as paying as the illegitimate
bartering of human beings, cotton, sugar, tobacco, and cocoa will in
all probability be grown in sufficient quantities for exportation.
Dahomey does not appear to be rich in minerals. In fact it is probable
that the territory now known by that name was once a vast lagoon,
similar to that of Quittah, only much more extensive, and that the
kingdom now owes its existence to that slow process of upheaval of
which I have already spoken as silting up the lagoons of the Slave
Coast. This theory is partly borne out by an immense and shallow
depression extending from the back of Whydah almost to Abomey, and
reaching its greatest depth about fifty miles from the former town.
At that point there is still a considerable swamp in the bed of the
ancient lagoon, and indications of coal deposits have been there
discovered. Throughout the whole distance between Whydah and Abomey the
shells of fresh-water molluscs, similar to those found at the present
day in the existing lagoons, are found in large quantities a few inches
below the surface of the ground.
To the north of Abomey a geological change takes place. Instead of the
flat sandy expanse, the ground is broken up into valleys and undulating
hills, gradually rising until they merge in the distant Dabadab
Mountains, about forty miles from the capital. Here, as elsewhere in
the hilly countries of West Africa, the soil consists of volcanic mud
or laterite, interspersed with ironstone and granite.
I do not think I have anything more to say about Dahomey except that
Whydah is the habitat of the Whydah bunting (_Emberiza Paradisea_),
the male of which is in the habit of changing its plumage five times a
year, so as to look like a different bird each time. It is sometimes
called the widow bird, and for many years troubled the minds and vexed
the spirits of naturalists.
CHAPTER V.
Lagos--Small Change--A Ball--A Cheerful Companion--An Anomalous
Sight--History of the Settlement--The Naval Attack of 1851.
In the spring of 1880 I found myself at Lagos, a town which has been
called the Liverpool of West Africa, and which, next to Freetown,
Sierra Leone, is the largest and best built in our possessions in that
quarter of the globe. The first breach in the lagoon system occurs
here, where the river Ogu, or Ogun, from Abbeokuta, discharges itself
into the sea; and the bar, on which at high water there is 16 feet of
water, is crossed by small steamers, which convey passengers, mails,
and cargo to and from the mail-steamers lying outside. The island
of Lagos is about four miles in length, and averages half a mile in
breadth. The town is situated up the lagoon about three-quarters of a
mile from the bar, and from the water presents quite a business-like
appearance. Numerous wooden piers, alongside which are vessels
discharging and receiving cargo, extend into the lagoon; steamers of
light draught come and go, while on the shore the Marina, or parade,
with its trees and white houses, covers a frontage of some two miles.
The native inhabitants of Lagos and the surrounding country, with
the exception of the Porto Novans, who are pagans, are Mohammedans,
belonging principally to the Yoruba tribe, which appears to be an
offshoot of the Houssa race. They are a quiet, orderly, and industrious
people, and form a pleasing contrast to the idle and insolent,
so-called Christians, of Sierra Leone, and the lazy tribes of the Gold
Coast.
As cowries form the small coinage of the country, and are in universal
use, I thought I might as well obtain a few for small purchases; so,
as soon as I was settled down, I gave my boy a couple of sovereigns
and sent him out to get change. Half-an-hour afterwards, as I was
smoking in the verandah, I saw him coming along the Marina followed by
a procession of some twenty men and women, each of whom carried a small
sack on his, or her, head. The whole crowd turned into the yard, and
disappeared from my view. Presently I heard the trampling of feet and a
rattling sound in my room, and, on going to see what was the matter, I
found it full of natives, with an immense heap of cowries piled up in
the centre of the floor. I thought that I should be ruined, and said to
my boy,
“What’s all this? What do all these people want?”
He replied.
“They’ve brought the cowries, Master.”
“Well! I didn’t tell you to buy £1000 worth--I haven’t brought a bank
in my pocket. Clear it all away except what I gave you the money for.”
He said there was only two pounds worth there.
I never felt so rich in my life: as Dr. Johnson would say, I revelled
in wealth beyond the potentiality of dreams of avarice. A solitary
cowry is not of much value: 20,000 of them are equivalent to twelve
shillings and sixpence, so I had more than 60,000. I told the carriers
to take a few in payment, filled my pockets with some more, and went
out with a light heart to buy up the whole market; taking care,
however, to lock up the place, as I thought that so much unguarded
wealth might be a temptation to the evilly disposed. My boy suggested
that I ought to count my change to see if it was correct; but I decided
not to.
A few days after my arrival there was a ball given by a club which
rejoices in the name of “The Flower of Lagos.” The members of this Club
are all negroes, principally haughty aristocrats from Sierra Leone,
Liberia, and the Gold Coast, and I believe that they do not admit any
of the Mohammedan _canaille_ to membership.
I never was at such an amusing ball in my life, and, as I suppose
such entertainments are given for the purpose of amusement, it may
be considered a most complete success. The gorgeous-coloured satin
waistcoats, the rainbow cravats, and gigantic buttonhole bouquets of
the men, were sufficiently trying to the eyes; but when one turned
towards the softer, one cannot in this case say the fairer, sex, who,
as usual before the ice was broken, sat all together at one end of the
room, I had positively to turn away, and wished for a green shade or
a pair of blue glass spectacles. Scarlet, blue, pink, purple, yellow,
orange, green, white--every known brilliant colour was there, and I had
to follow the example of the other Europeans who were present, and view
this brilliant spectacle through the medium of an inverted tumbler.
The band was that of the Gold Coast Constabulary, and perhaps the less
one says of it the better, unless it is now “the thing” in music to
introduce crushing discords and heart-rending shrieks that are not in
the original score of the composition.
Before the dancing commenced one could walk about and breathe without
any extraordinary discomfort, but after that the _bouquet d’Afrique_
really became quite too, too. I have always held very much the same
opinion about dancing as that expressed by the pacha in Salmagundi, and
I should have liked then to have been seated afar off on some eminence
with a good telescope. It was pitiful to observe the struggles of
the _belles_ to appear cool (these poor creatures cannot, of course,
like their European sisters, use powder, unless indeed, they used
gunpowder or coal-dust), and how at last they gave it up as hopeless,
and used their handkerchiefs energetically. A new Administrator had
arrived at Lagos a few days previously, and he had to open the ball
with the leading Lagos lady. Poor man, he did not seem at all at home,
and was evidently unaccustomed to move in such high society. After the
ceremony was over he kept going about like one dazed, rubbing his hands
together, and bowing and asking what would be the next article. Some
people said that the infliction had been too much for his brain, and
that he was thinking of his earlier days, but I don’t know.
I noticed that the negro gentlemen were scrupulously polite and
dignified, and talked, so to speak, on conversational stilts; the
ladies tried hard to do the same, but the high pressure was too much
for them. One sable beau went up to a charming creature in pink and
yellow, and, bowing by a succession of jerks, said:--
“May I, Miss, enjoy the unparalleled gratification of your hand for the
next polka?”
The giddy young thing replied:--
“Oh I yes, Mr. Smith--I’m orful fond of polking--Good Lard! what a fine
coat you’ve got. I ’spect that cloth cost quite two dollars a yard
now, didn’t it?”
Later on, when the fumes of the gooseberry wine, brandy, and rum began
to mount to the heads of the assembly, a good deal of the veneering
came off the manners and morals, and violent embracings took place in
the more retired spots. Then one or two personal encounters occurred
between jealous swains, while others, under the influence of ardent
spirits, came and tried to pick quarrels with the few Europeans who
were present, so I went away just as the orgie was beginning.
Horses thrive very well at Lagos, and every merchant keeps his
horse and trap; not that there is anywhere much to drive to, except
the Marina, as all the streets through the native town consist of
ankle-deep sand, and the eastern portion of the island, where there
are no houses, is a mere sandbank. The horses are small, being all
of Arab blood, and are brought down from the interior by Mohammedan
traders; they cost from £15 to £30 a-piece. In the matter of horses
and food Lagos has a great advantage over other towns in West Africa.
On the Gold Coast, for instance, one has to live almost entirely on
those particularly nauseating preserved meats, the tins of which may
bear different labels and names, but which all taste alike; for the
country produces nothing but an emaciated fowl; but at Lagos one can
revel in oysters, land-crabs, beef, mutton, and all the luxuries of the
table. In the matter of salubrity, however, Lagos does not appear to
advantage, and its epidemics periodically decimate the white population.
One morning, when I was walking along the Marina, I met a man who had
been a fellow-passenger with me from England, and who had come out
to Lagos to take home a coffin-ship that belonged to the Colonial
Government, so that she might be broken up and sold for fire-wood. This
individual had occupied the same cabin with me on the voyage out, and
had kept me quite lively and exercised my mind a good deal during the
trip. One night, when everybody on board, except the watch, was buried
in sleep, I was awakened by hearing somebody cursing and swearing in
a loud voice close at hand. I looked over the side of my bunk, and,
by the faint light of a lamp that was burning in the saloon, I saw my
cabin companion, stark naked, foaming at the mouth, and stropping one
of my razors upon his fore-arm amid torrents of oaths. Presently he
said:--
“I’ll have some d----d fellow’s blood to-night. I’ll have some blood.”
And he rolled his frenzied eye round the cabin.
I did not make any remark. I did not want to remind him that my blood
was pretty handy, because I had no weapon with me in my bunk more
formidable than a pillow; so I lay quiet. He kept on stropping the
razor, cursing to himself, and repeating that what his soul craved for
was gore, for about ten minutes, then he suddenly hurled his weapon
across the cabin, and rushed out just as he was. I skipped out of my
berth with some alacrity, picked up my razor and locked it up; after
which I felt rather safer, as I knew he had none of his own. Then I
put on some clothes and went to look after the maniac; but, after
searching all over the ship without success, I consoled myself with the
thought that he had probably jumped overboard, and went to bed again.
Next morning, when I awoke, I found my friend clothed and in his right
mind, and thought I must have been suffering from night-mare; so I said
nothing to him about what had occurred.
Ten or twelve days after this I was awakened in the middle of the night
by some one clutching at my throat. I sprang up with a yell and struck
out, fortunately hitting my assailant somewhere, and, as the ship
happened to be rolling heavily, he lost his equilibrium and tumbled
over. He was up again in a moment, and came at me brandishing a water
bottle.
He said:--
“Give me my ship’s papers.”
I seized my pillow, and replied:--
“I haven’t got your papers. Stew-a-a-rd.”
“Give me my papers, or I’ll do for you.”
“Don’t be a fool--I don’t know anything about your papers. STEWARD.”
He threw the bottle at me, fortunately, instead of hitting me with
it; and tried to do the throttling business again. Then a very pretty
little struggle commenced up and down the cabin, we being thrown from
side to side with every lurch, while boxes, tumblers, boots, clothes,
and all kinds of loose furniture, went flying around. At last some
of the other passengers appeared to have a dim consciousness that
something was occurring, and appeared rubbing their eyes; and when
they grasped the situation we soon had our friend tied up, biting and
scratching like a wild cat. I told the captain next day I would prefer
to sleep in some other cabin.
For the rest of the voyage this man appeared quite sane, and when I met
him, as I have said, on the Marina, he came up to me, shook hands, and
conversed like any rational being. He had brought his vessel alongside
a wharf, and was tilting her over to try and get at some of the worst
leaks and stop them up. Some of the guys he had out were very much
worn, and I said that if he did not take care he would capsize his
ship. This innocent remark set him off at once; he became purple in
the face, foamed at the mouth, gesticulated violently, cursed at me,
and was only prevented from proceeding to further extremities by my
rapid exit. Next day his ship did capsize. He sailed from Lagos soon
after, and I have been told that neither he nor his vessel have ever
been heard of since. In any other part of the world but West Africa
such a man as this would have been kept under restraint. His fits of
mania were, I believe, the result of sun-stroke.
I was out driving round the town with a German friend one day when he
pulled up at an inclosure, and said he would show me something that
I would not see anywhere else on the coast. He took me in and showed
me a merry-go-round, and I was sufficiently surprised to gratify him.
What could have induced any one to bring such a thing out to West
Africa? It was one of the old kind, worked by hand; an organ stood by,
and I could almost imagine I smelt the sawdust and gingerbread, and
heard the shouts and cries with which such machines were associated
in my memory. I believe the speculation did not pay, the natives all
wanted to ride for nothing, and the Europeans did not want to ride at
all. The yard was full of Yoruba women, looking with wistful eyes at
the wooden horses and triumphal cars, so we hired the whole coach of
the proprietor for half-an-hour, and told all the women to get up on
it. It was a most anomalous sight to see all these Mohammedan women,
with their shawled heads, floating cloths, and long slim limbs, going
round and round to the tune of Champagne Charlie. They seemed to enjoy
it very much, and their bright eyes sparkled with fun; they were so
grateful that I believe they would have done anything for us, even
kiss us, if we had wanted them to. Some of them were by no means bad
looking, and the custom they have of touching up the eyes with _kohl_
gives them a rather languishing appearance.
The British first became mixed up in the affairs of Lagos after the
repulse of the Dahoman army from Abbeokuta, which I have narrated
in a former chapter. After that event the King of Dahomey commenced
intrigues with the kings of Porto Novo and of Lagos with a view to
cutting off the Abbeokutans from all communication with the sea, he
believing that they received assistance there, both in money and
weapons, from the British. These two potentates fell the more readily
into his plans because they were both interested in the maintenance
of the slave-trade, while the Egbas were anxious for its suppression.
The river Ogu is navigable for canoes to within a mile of Abbeokuta,
and, as it discharges itself into the sea at Lagos, that town may be
said to be the natural port of Abbeokuta. Owing to differences however
with Kosoko, the king of Lagos, a bloodthirsty despot who had dethroned
his uncle Akitoye and murdered some two thousand of his friends and
adherents in cold blood, the Egbas of Abbeokuta had been obliged to
use Badagry, a small independent township some thirty-five miles to
the west of Lagos, as their port; doing so at great inconvenience to
themselves, as communication between Abbeokuta and Badagry could only
be carried on by means of difficult roads, over which all goods and
produce had to be carried upon the heads of men and women.
In June, 1851, Kosoko, in accordance with instructions received from
the king of Dahomey, sent up a number of men to attack Badagry, at
which town Akitoye the ex-king of Lagos was residing, and where there
were also several British residents. The enemy were repulsed, and
returned to Lagos, destroying on their way back an out-lying village
of Badagry, named Susu. During the rest of the month of June, Kosoko’s
people kept Badagry in a state of blockade, and occasionally landed
marauding parties at night. During one of these night-alarms a Mr. Gee,
an Englishman, was killed, and several Kroomen employed by the British
traders were kidnapped. Things went on thus until July, early in which
month a number of Lagos people came up to Badagry, under the pretence
of trading or visiting their friends, and were suffered to land. On
going ashore they proceeded to the market, which was crowded, the day
being market-day, and at once picking a quarrel with some of Akitoye’s
followers they threw off the mask and a fight commenced. The town of
Badagry was burned to the ground, and a great deal of British property
was destroyed.
The senior naval officer on the station being informed of this outrage
felt it his duty to endeavour to obtain redress from Kosoko, and terms
were dictated to him. After much delay and duplicity on the part of the
king, it became evident that he had no intention of yielding except to
force, and it was finally determined to bombard his town.
The naval force, consisting of Her Majesty’s sloops “Philomel,”
“Harlequin,” “Niger,” and “Waterwitch,” and the gun-vessels
“Bloodhound” and “Volcano,” assembled off Lagos bar in November 1851;
and at daybreak on the 25th of that month the ships’ boats, manned and
armed, and towed by the “Bloodhound,” entered the river and proceeded
towards Lagos. As the consul still had some hope of the king submitting
to a display of force, the flags of truce were kept flying; and,
although, on rounding the first point, the enemy opened a harassing
fire of musketry along the right bank of the river, the fire was not
returned, and the boats kept steadily on, with the flags flying, until
they arrived at about a mile from the town.
There the “Bloodhound” got aground in the mud, and the enemy’s fire
increased, the shot falling fast and thick among the boats. The boom of
heavy ordnance showed that Kosoko was much better prepared for defence
than had been supposed; the flags of truce were hauled down, and the
British, for the first time, opened fire.
The enemy were mustered in great force, and, being armed with good
muskets, kept up an incessant fire from behind stockades and mud-walls
upon the boats. They even endeavoured to send a body of men across the
river in canoes so as to take the British in rear, but this movement
was at once intercepted.
The fire from the boats producing but little effect, it was determined
to land a party. The boats accordingly pulled in simultaneously for one
spot, and about 160 men were landed, the remainder guarding the boats.
The natives made a most determined resistance and an exceedingly
skilful use of the advantages of their position. The town, or at least
that part of it where the seamen landed, consisted of narrow streets
intersecting each other in every direction. The British were thus
exposed to a flanking fire down every street which debouched on the
line of advance; and the natives, when driven from one post, ran by
back-alleys to take up a new position further on. After advancing some
three hundred yards, and finding the resistance by no means diminished,
but, on the contrary, that the number of opponents increased at every
turning, and having already suffered a loss of two officers killed and
seven men wounded, it was determined that to continue the advance would
be imprudent. All the neighbouring houses were therefore set on fire,
and the force returned to the boats, and thence to the “Bloodhound.”
The fire continued to burn with great fury for some hours, and two
heavy explosions were heard; but there was no wind, and the houses
destroyed formed but a very small portion of the whole town.
In consequence of this repulse the attack of Lagos in force was
ordered, and it was determined to dethrone Kosoko and to replace
Akitoye on the throne. A naval force was concentrated, consisting of
the “Sampson,” “Penelope,” “Bloodhound,” and “Teazer,” the whole being
under the command of Commodore H. W. Bruce. On December 24th, 1851, the
boats crossed the bar, and the “Bloodhound” dropped up the river with
the tide to reconnoitre. Three guns from the south end of the island
opened on her but did no damage, for the fire, though exceedingly well
directed, was faulty in elevation.
The plan of attack arranged was that the boats should pass the lines
of defence as quickly as possible, go round the northern point of
the island, and there make the bombardment, where Kosoko and the
principal slave-dealers resided. The line of sea-defence extended from
the southern point of the island to the northern, along the western
front, a distance of nearly two miles. In parts, where the water was
sufficiently deep for boats to land, stakes in double rows had been
planted in six feet of water, and along the whole of the distance
an embankment and ditch for the protection of infantry had been
constructed; while at special points exceedingly strong stockades, made
of stout cocoa-nut trees, were erected for guns.
On the 26th at daybreak the “Bloodhound” proceeded up the river
with the boats of the “Sampson” in two divisions, the one in front
the other following. The “Teazer” followed with the boats of the
“Penelope” similarly arranged, and accompanied by the consul’s iron
boat “Victoria,” fitted for rockets. The enemy immediately opened a
heavy fire of guns and musketry, the whole line of the embankment being
filled with men, of whom nothing was visible but the muzzles of their
muskets. The fire was returned from the British guns, but produced
little effect, as the shot could not do much injury to the green wood
of the stockades.
In trying to get round the northern point of the island with her
division of boats the “Bloodhound” grounded. As the tide was falling
it was impossible to get her off; but her guns, opening fire, silenced
a battery of the enemy which was abreast of her, though nothing could
silence the furious fusilade of musketry. A slight breeze springing up
at this time it was seen from the “Bloodhound” that the “Teazer” was
also aground, nearly in the same position as the former vessel was at
the attack of November 25th.
Abreast of the “Teazer” was a battery, which her solitary 32-pounder
contrived for some time to keep in check; but it was not long before
two other guns were brought to a stockade, and opened fire from a
position which was quite unassailable from the “Teazer.” These guns
were admirably served, and Captain Lyster of the “Penelope,” who was
in command of the “Teazer” and her division of boats, seeing that the
vessel would be inevitably destroyed before she could be got off at
high tide if the enemy’s fire were not silenced, determined to land and
carry the guns. The eight boats which had accompanied the “Teazer” were
formed in line, and pulled in directly for the stockade, which appeared
to be the best spot for landing. As the boats touched the shore a
tremendous discharge was poured into them; but the men formed up on the
beach, and entered the stockade, from which the enemy retreated into
the bush, which was close in rear. Lieutenant Corbett rushed ahead and
spiked the guns.
The object of the landing being thus accomplished, the party retired to
re-embark, when it was discovered that during the confusion which had
naturally taken place, on landing under a severe fire, one of the boats
had been taken by the enemy, a party of whom were seen at a little
distance taking her towards the guns which had first opened fire on the
“Teazer.” As it was necessary to re-take her, the men hurriedly ran to
the other boats to go in pursuit. The crew of the captured boat, sixty
in number, having nothing in which to embark, crowded round the other
boats, which became overloaded, and some delay and confusion ensued in
consequence. No sooner did the natives perceive this than they came
down from the bush in swarms, pouring in a most destructive fire at a
distance of a few yards. Two seamen who were unable to find room in the
boats were seized and dragged up the beach, their heads being instantly
lopped off under the very eyes of their comrades, and their bodies,
horribly mutilated, thrown down again to the water’s edge.
The boats at last shoved off, and it was then seen that there was
something wrong with the “Victoria,” which was close to the shore.
On pulling back it was discovered that the anchor had been let go
without orders. It was impossible to slip the cable, as it was of chain
and clinched to the bottom of the boat, and there seemed to be no
alternative but to leave her in the hands of the natives, when suddenly
Lieutenant Corbett, who had received a severe wound on shore which
rendered his right arm almost useless, ran to the stern, and, under a
heavy fire, cut the chain-cable with a cold chisel. While so doing he
received five different gun-shot wounds.
The “Victoria” was now got off, but the British loss had been so heavy,
amounting to one officer and thirteen men killed, and four officers
and fifty-eight men wounded, that it was not considered advisable to
make any attempt to recover the lost boat, and the boats returned to
the “Teazer.” Scarcely had they reached her than some forty or fifty of
the natives got into the captured boat, and started as if to attack the
vessel. They paid dearly for their audacity; for a rocket fired from
the “Teazer” entered her magazine and she at once blew up. At sunset
the “Teazer” was got off with the rising tide, and anchored out of
gun-shot for the night.
In the meantime the “Bloodhound” and the boats of her division had been
warmly engaged. At 10 a.m. Lieutenant Saumarez had been despatched with
five boats round the north-eastern point, to ascertain the strength
and position of the guns on that side of the island. A fire from four
guns strongly stockaded was immediately opened; and was returned from
the boats with such effect as to upset and turn out of its carriage one
of these guns. The object of the movement having been obtained, the
boats were recalled.
The fire from the embankment abreast of the “Bloodhound” still
continued, and, about 2·30 p.m., it being observed that the enemy were
trying to bring several guns into position there, Lieutenant Saumarez
was sent with the boats of the “Sampson” to try and spike them. It
was found impossible for them to make their way through the hail of
missiles showered upon them, and they returned, with the loss of one
officer killed and ten men severely wounded.
Next morning the “Teazer” got into the proper channel. A flanking fire
was opened on the western part of the enemy’s defences, and rockets
were thrown into the town. At about 11 a.m. a rocket was thrown into a
battery below the house of Tappa, Kosoko’s principal chief and adviser.
A tremendous explosion ensued, which was followed by an interval of
dead silence, then house after house caught fire, and the town was
shortly in a general blaze. The enemy’s fire at once slackened, and
then stopped; and the Commodore, being unwilling to do further damage,
ceased firing, and sent a summons to Kosoko to surrender.
Next day, Sunday, no reply had been received; and, during the whole of
the day, canoes were observed crossing from the north-east of Lagos to
the island of Echalli, laden with furniture and household goods. This
was allowed to go on without molestation, and in the afternoon it was
learned that Kosoko and his followers had abandoned the island.
A party was landed to spike guns and instal Akitoye as king, and it
was then found that a creek and swamp, running about two hundred
yards inland, had checked the flames and saved the eastern portion of
the town. The defences were most ingeniously planned. The beach was
strongly stockaded, with a ditch outside; and at every promontory was
an enfilading piece of ordnance. Fifty-two guns were in all captured.
King Docemo succeeded Akitoye, and in 1861 Lagos was acquired by treaty
with that king, who handed it over to the British in return for a
pension of £1,000 a year. Badagry and Catanoo on the west, and Palma
and Leckie on the east, form integral portions of the settlement; and,
though we have no authority for so doing, jurisdiction is exercised
over the intervening sea-board; and, to a certain extent, over the
adjacent country, inhabited by tribes with whom we have made treaties.
The town of Catanoo was acquired in January, 1880. It lies on the
sea-board, immediately opposite the independent kingdom of Porto Novo,
on the northern bank of the lagoon of the same name. The king of that
state was formerly a source of tribulation to the revenue officers of
Lagos; as, when Catanoo was independent, he could there land exciseable
articles free of duty, which were afterwards smuggled with wonderful
facility into British territory by lagoon. In addition to this, he
and his subjects were continually interfering with and molesting the
peaceable Mohammedan traders; so the inhabitants of Catanoo were
persuaded to hoist the British flag, and now the Porto Novo potentate
has to proceed as far west as Whydah to import his rum if he wishes to
avoid paying customs dues.
CHAPTER VI.
Leeches--Ikorudu--A Blue-blood Negro--Badagry--Flying
Foxes--Fetishes--A Smuggler entrapped--Floating Islands--Porto
Novo--Thirsty Gods--Cruel Kindness.
While at Lagos I heard that there was one of those fortified Mohammedan
towns, peculiar to the interior of Western Africa, some eighteen miles
to the north-east of the island. I had never seen one of these towns,
so I hired a boat and a guide, and started early one morning for this
particular one, which was named Ikorudu. We paddled along the lagoon
for some distance, until we had passed the mouth of the river Ogu, and
then the canoe-men ran the canoe into the mud of a mangrove swamp,
and the guide said I was to disembark. I remarked that I did not see
any path, and that if I had known that I should have to wade about in
liquid mud I would have brought some stilts, but he said the road was
better after a little distance, so I got on the shoulders of one of the
men and waded ashore.
We walked on along a track three or four inches deep with sticky mud,
through an immense swamp. Far away into the gloomy shadows of the bush
stretched shallow pools of muddy water, in which the hideous mangrove
stretched out its distorted limbs, while the mangrove fish leaped off
the roots of the trees and skipped away across the surface of the
water at our approach. Suddenly my foot slipped from under me, and I
slid along for some distance, only to be brought up violently against
a mangrove stump. I rubbed my knee, and anathematised the mud _sotto
voce_. I had hardly moved two paces further when the ground seemed to
be cut away from under my feet, and I fell into the arms of my guide.
He said--
“You will have to be careful where you tread here.”
I replied:--“So it seems.”
“Yes, there are a lot of them about this morning.”
I asked him what he meant, and he answered by placing a foot on a
brown object in the mud and skating along over it. I examined this
object, and saw a flattened leech. The swamp was full of these things:
thousands of them clustered round the roots of the mangroves, millions
lay in the mud covered by the shallow water, and hundreds of them were
taking a morning walk over the path. I saw a canoe-man detach one from
his ankle and another from the calf of his log, so I took the hint
and tucked my trousers into my boots. There were enough leeches here
to phlebotomise the whole human race, and I thought of returning
to England at once, and starting a Company, to be called the Grand
International Leech Supply, for furnishing every household with these
domestic creatures. As it is I give the idea, gratis, to any one of a
speculative turn of mind.
After walking two miles over and through leeches we reached Ikorudu.
The town is surrounded by a high and thick swish wall, which is
loopholed, and has flanking bastions at irregular intervals; ingress
is only obtainable by passing through doorways into swish houses, the
floors of the upper rooms of which are loopholed, so that fire can be
brought to bear upon the approach below. At one entrance I saw a kind
of machicoulis gallery; and considering that the Egbas, against whom
these defences were constructed, have no artillery, the place seemed
tolerably strong. A broad and deep ditch encircles the whole town.
In 1865 or 1866 an army of twelve thousand Egbas besieged this place,
and threw up two entrenched camps in its neighbourhood. The Ikorudans
applied to the Government of Lagos for assistance, and the Fifth
West India regiment, with the Lagos Police, numbering in all less
than five hundred bayonets, were sent to their relief. This handful
of men gallantly stormed the entrenchments and completely routed the
enemy with heavy loss. To properly estimate this victory it must be
remembered that the Fifth West India regiment was not in reality a
West India regiment, properly trained and disciplined, but an African
regiment, raised entirely from the Yomba and Houssa tribes in and about
Lagos, and bearing a very close resemblance to the present Houssa
Constabulary. This old habit of entitling African corps West India
regiments has led to many unfortunate mistakes, from which the two
_bonâ fide_ West India regiments suffer sometimes even at the present
day.
Shortly after this Ikorudu trip I took advantage of the sailing of
a small steamer belonging to a mercantile firm at Lagos to proceed
to Badagry, which lies to the west, up the Victoria lagoon. It is
thirty-three miles from Lagos as the crow flies, but the tortuous
nature of the only navigable channel makes the distance very much
greater for bipeds not possessed of wings. At 6 a.m. our small craft
cast off from the pier, and steamed away in the teeth of the fresh
morning breeze, which rippled the surface of the lagoon and fanned our
grateful faces. The channel which we followed was generally narrow,
though here and there the shores receded and left wide reaches of
shallow water, dotted with numerous small wooded islands. In such parts
the view was very pretty; and the numerous canoes, bound for Lagos
with native produce, paddled or poled along by brown-skinned men in
loose garbs of brilliant colours, added the requisite life and colour
to the scene. Numbers of crocodiles were seen basking on the banks of
the islets or the shores of the lagoon, frightening the white cranes
and flamingoes as they waddled with a splash into the water on the
approach of the steamer. Two would-be sportsmen on board fired several
shots at these saurians with those cheap German rifles, which are
manufactured by persons who seem to think that back-sights are merely
an ornamental appendage. Naturally they wounded nothing more vulnerable
than the water or bush.
While we were steaming along a mulatto gentleman came up and entered
into conversation with me. He commenced by saying that he supposed I
was a stranger, and, after cross-examining me as to my business in
Lagos, expatiated upon the scenery, civilisation, and delights of that
settlement. After a little he said--
“You may have heard of me; my name is Pilot.”
I replied, “Oh! indeed, you’re the pilot are you? What depth of water
have we here?”
“No, no, my dear Sir. You are quite mistaken. I am above menial
pursuits of that nature. My name is Pilate. P-i-l-a-t-e.”
“Ah! really. It is a pretty name.”
He smiled a sweetly-satisfied smile, and continued.
“Yes, pretty, but more than pretty--it is historical. You have, of
course, heard of my ancestor?”
“N--no. I don’t remember just now.”
“What? Never heard of Pontius Pilate?”
“Pontius Pilate? Oh, yes--died of a skin disease, didn’t he?”
He approached me with a proud and stately stride, and, tapping his
manly bosom with a forefinger, said, in a voice thick with emotion, or
something stronger--
“That man was my ancestor. I am proud of it. But for him there would
have been no sacrifice of the blood of the lamb, and no atonement. He
was the greatest benefactor that mankind ever saw, and I--I am his
descendant. I am proud of it.”
I said: “This is very interesting--I should like to see your pedigree.”
“Ah! I regret to say that the family records have been sadly
neglected--but I have the skin disease of which you spoke. It is
hereditary.”
I moved a little further off.
He continued: “Yes, I have the skin disease. It is a proof of what I
tell you. Would you like to see it?”
“N--no thanks; I’m afraid I haven’t time just now.”
“It is a sad infliction, but I bear it. Yes, I bear it because
it is the Lord’s will. The only thing that gives me any relief is
brandy--Have you any about you?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Rum, perhaps?”
“No, nothing of that kind.”
“Dear, dear--Pardon this spasm, it will be over in a minute. Perhaps
the sailors have some. Will you lend me a shilling, and I will go and
inquire?”
His spasms must have come on very badly after he left, for in about
half-an-hour’s time I saw him ardently hugging a stanchion, and
apparently trying to tie a true lover’s knot with his legs. I inquired
who he was, and learned that he was a gentleman at large. I was much
surprised; I should certainly have taken him to be a native missionary
from his manner.
We arrived at Badagry about 10 a.m. The lagoon here is 600 yards wide
and 24 feet deep, and the sand-ridge which separates it from the sea
measures one-third of a mile in breadth. I should imagine that Badagry
is not a healthy place of residence; it is low-lying and swampy, and
sanitary considerations have evidently never been taken into account.
In fact sanitary law is a dead letter on the whole of the West Coast
of Africa, with the exception of Sierra Leone, and the most ordinary
and necessary precautions are neglected, while the natives are allowed
to indulge in the filthiest habits unchecked. Imagine an English town
with its drainage system cut off, and the inhabitants permitted to
accumulate offal and refuse of every indescribable kind around their
dwellings; then add a supply of dysenteric water, and a tropical sun to
make all the rubbish-heaps fester and grow corrupt; throw in a climate
that is unequalled for deadliness, and you will have a very fair idea
of a British settlement on the Gold Coast. Dozens of lives are yearly
sacrificed on that coast to the apathy of the Government, which will
not compel the natives to adopt more cleanly habits of life.
The first thing that struck me on going ashore at Badagry was a stone,
which descended with some force from a tall tree; and I was looking
round for a safe object on which to vent my wrath, when one of the
sportsmen from the steamer came and made profuse apologies for the
accident. I asked him what he was throwing at, and he, being a German,
replied:
“I drow at de grickeds.”
This seemed so incomprehensible that I was going to give up attempting
the solution when he exclaimed:--
“No, no--Not grickeds--badts. I know he vas something that you plays in
de game. Dey are dere,” and he pointed up to the tree.
I looked up and saw what at first sight appeared like a cluster of
rabbit-skins hung up to dry: they were flying foxes. I looked round,
and found almost every tree similarly adorned. But for an occasional
movement of the head, or the winking of an eye, one might have imagined
they were dead, they remained so still. The sportsman was very eager to
fire into the group, being only deterred from so doing by the fear of
their being fetish, and while he was endeavouring to satisfy himself on
this point I went away.
The inhabitants of Badagry are apparently a very religious people,
for I do not remember ever to have seen so many fetishes of different
sorts in so small a town. Scattered generally about the streets and
courtyards are hundreds of small sheds, open in front, with thatched
roofs and bamboo walls. Each of these contains a graceful figure,
fashioned of clay into a semblance of the human form; and the faces of
these gods are fearfully and wonderfully made. The eyes are represented
by large cowries, the hair by feathers, and the gash which takes the
place of the mouth is garnished with the teeth of dogs, sharks, goats,
leopards, and men. A nose was too great a flight of genius for the
native sculptors, and they had satisfied themselves by boring two
little holes for nostrils and leaving the rest of the organ to be
understood. I noticed one deity whose head was covered with the red
tail-feathers of parrots, and the captain of the steamer said that the
people had put this up after having seen a red-haired trader who had
once paid them a visit.
While wandering about I discovered a thick growth of trees and bushes
inclosed with a bamboo fence; this was the great fetish-ground of
Badagry, and I proceeded to pull down a piece of the fence, and look
in. I saw inside the usual heap of rubbish, broken pots, broken knives,
broken stools, and human skulls, and, in addition, spear-heads, arrows,
and bamboo shields. I thought I would like to take a few of these
things away as curios, and had begun pulling down more of the fence,
so that I might pass through, when I was disturbed by hearing somebody
shout:
“Heigh, you there! You bess stop that.”
I looked round and observed a negro, attired in European apparel,
rapidly coming towards me. He seemed very much alarmed, and said:
“These people here are very partic’lar ’bout their fetish. If they was
to see you now they would kill you p’raps.”
I said--“Bosh: this town belongs to the English.”
“I tell you for true, Sir. Myself I’m Christian like you: I follow
the Lord; I don’t care for fetish. But these people here are very
bad people, very partic’lar. If they see you, you will catch plenty
trouble.”
I suffered myself to be persuaded and went away to have lunch with the
Commandant. During the meal I said what a pity it was I could not get
some of those arrows and spear-heads out of the inclosure. He seemed
surprised and asked:
“What is there to prevent you?”
“Why, the natives would make a row.”
“They? Why they wouldn’t care if you carted the whole lot out.”
I thought I had been hearing rather contradictory evidence, so I told
him about my interview with the Christian negro who had hindered me
from committing sacrilege. He listened with great attention, and
finally asked:
“Was this man tall?”
“Yes.”
“Was he fat?”
“Yes.”
“Was he very ugly?”
“Yes.”
“Had he got a strawberry ...? No, I don’t mean that. Had he lost some
of his front teeth?”
“Yes.”
Then the Commandant heaved a sigh of relief, and sent for a sergeant of
police. When that myrmidon arrived he told him that he thought that Mr.
W---- was caught at last; and directed him to take three or four men,
and go and see if he could find anything in the fetish ground. While we
were waiting to see the upshot of this search the Commandant informed
me that my Christian friend, Mr. W----, was a notorious smuggler, who
was famed for the facility with which he robbed Her Majesty’s Customs.
In about a quarter of an hour a procession, bearing some forty or fifty
demijohns of rum, marched into the yard; and the sergeant informed us
that he had left a man in charge of as much more. All this spirit had
been smuggled from Porto Novo, and then hidden in the fetish-ground,
where no native wandering in the outer darkness of unbelief would dare
to venture; but which my Christian friend, who like all such negroes
had repudiated the fetish moral, or immoral, code without adopting any
other in its place, had no scruple about making use of. No wonder he
was anxious that I should not outrage the religious prejudices of the
Badagrans. I met him afterwards, and he called me names, and was good
enough to say that my idle curiosity had caused him to lose more money
than I had ever possessed or could dream of possessing. Such are the
usual conversational pleasantries of negro traders.
From Badagry I went on to Porto Novo, which lies seventeen miles
further to the west, or fifty miles in all from Lagos. A curious
feature of the lagoon between Badagry and Porto Novo is the large
number of floating grass islands which one passes. Some of them have
sufficient stability to admit of persons walking about on them, and,
were they but cultivated, would be not unlike the _chinampas_ of the
Aztecs on the lake of Mexico. They impede the navigation a good deal,
as no steamer could force its way through them, and _détours_ have
to be made to avoid them, which frequently result in the repose of a
sand-bank being rudely disturbed by the stem of an erring vessel. When
disembarking from the steamer at Porto Novo I landed on one of these
islands, about two acres in extent, and walked across it, sending the
boat round to the opposite side. It seemed quite firm underfoot, except
at the edges, and was covered with soil four or five inches deep,
bearing a luxuriant crop of grass. It was kept afloat by an underlying
mass of matted rushes, canes, and succulent grass, from three to four
feet thick, but how the earth got on the top of this I do not know.
This island was larger and more substantial than most, but all break
up very rapidly in the mimic storms which occasionally vex the placid
waters of the lagoon.
The town of Porto Novo is built on the eastern portion of the Porto
Novan lagoon, which is here two miles and a-half in breadth; and some
high ground, not elsewhere to be found for scores of miles along the
Slave Coast, lies a little to the north of it, and forms a pleasing
change in the dull level of the surrounding country. The town itself
is as dirty and irregular as most native ones, and there is nothing
to be seen worth mentioning but the _palace_ of the king, who is, on
a smaller scale, an irresponsible and bloodthirsty despot like his
friend and ally the King of Dahomey. The royal residence is surrounded
by a swish wall, loopholed for musketry and protected by a ditch: it
includes, too, buildings for the accommodation of the four or five
hundred wives, slaves, dependents, and retainers of his majesty. It
is entered by means of a gateway through a house built of sun-dried
bricks, with windows on the upper story only, looking outwards; a
massive and iron-studded door, with three or four loopholes cut in it,
seems to show that the king scarcely considers himself safe from attack
even at home.
Opposite to the palace-gate stands a row of fetish-sheds containing
specimens of the sculptor’s high art similar to those at Badagry; but
here the natives are more attentive to the wants of their deities,
and, though they do not give them anything to eat, because food costs
money, or rather cowries, they are careful to place before each a brass
pan full of water, which is popularly believed to be a more wholesome
beverage for gods than rum, and costs nothing more than the trouble of
drawing it. Standing in the full glare of the sun, these pans naturally
become empty in the course of time through evaporation, which fact the
natives explain by saying that the fetishes drink it, and it is to them
ocular proof of the existence and material being of their deities.
Next to the fetish huts is the shed for human sacrifices, to which
West African pastime the King of Porto Novo is as partial as the
comparatively limited number of his subjects will allow. It reeks with
blotches of black and clotted blood, covered with thousands of hungry
flies, and is furnished with headsman’s blocks made of a hard and dark
wood. A communicative Porto Novan, who was a shopman in one of the
French factories in the town, and had been showing me all these sights,
pointed to these blocks, and said in French:
“We are always spoken of by you English at Lagos as a cruel people, but
these are a proof to the contrary.”
I said, “I should have arrived at an exactly opposite opinion.”
“Ah! then you have not observed closely, Monsieur. Do you not see that
each block is hollowed out, so that the man to be beheaded may rest his
chin and breast on it in comfort?”
“Yes, I see that.”
“Well that proves that we are considerate and kind.”
“You are pleased to be facetious.”
“Far from it, Monsieur, I am serious. I have to repeat that it proves
that we are considerate and kind.”
“Does it?”
“Yes. How do you English sacrifice?”
“We don’t sacrifice at all,” I replied.
“Pardon, Monsieur, you hang. And how do you hang? With the absence of
gentleness the most great. You bind hand and foot; you do not study the
comfort of the man to be put to death.”
“No, not much.”
“Ah! you acknowledge it. Yes, yes; only when you have provided chairs
for your people to be sacrificed will you have arrived to our high
perception of kindness.”
CHAPTER VII.
The Niger Delta--Gloomy Region--Cannibals--King
Pepple--Bonny-town--Rival Chiefs--Dignitaries of the
Church--Missions--Curlews--A Night Adventure--A Bonny _Bonne
Bouche_.
From Lagos I went on to the Oil Rivers, as the numerous outlets in the
Niger delta are termed. The Nun mouth is now the recognised entrance
of the Niger; its ten western openings are Benin, Escardos, Forcardos,
Ramos, Dodo, Pennington, and Middleton rivers, Blind Creek, and
Winstanley and Sengana outfalls, and its nine eastern are Brass River
or Rio Bento, San Nicolas, Santa Barbara, Sombreiro, San Bartolomeo,
New Calabar, Bonny, Antonio, and Opobo rivers. The New Calabar and the
Bonny or Obané Rivers discharge into one estuary; and some authorities
consider that the latter is not an outfall of the Niger at all.
The trade in these rivers is almost entirely in British hands, and
regular trading stations are found at Bonny, New Calabar, Brass, Opobo,
and Benin. The natives are independent of British rule, but from time
to time treaties have been made for the regulation of trade, and for
the protection of traders. In each river or outfall the traders form a
Court of Arbitration, which settles all trade disputes arising between
themselves and the natives; and cases of moment are submitted to the
consul of the Bights of Benin and Biafra, who resides in the island of
Fernando Po. The principal exports are palm-oil, kernels, camwood, and
ivory, and it is from the immense quantities of the first commodity
annually shipped to England, and there used in the manufacture of tin,
butter, soap, and pomade, that the title of Oil Rivers is derived.
It would be difficult to imagine a more depressing and gloomy region
than that of the delta of the Niger. On all sides, as far as the
eye can reach, one sees nothing but swamp after swamp of countless
mangroves, intersected in every direction by foul creeks of reeking
and muddy water; while, when the tide is out, vast expanses of black,
slimy mud, on which hideous crocodiles bask, are exposed to the sun.
It is indeed a horrible and loathsome tract, and it is a matter for
wonder that Europeans can be found willing to pass the best years of
their lives in such a place. Yet such is the case, and though a large
percentage of the white residents annually succumb to the pestilential
climate, and all suffer more or less from its effects, the survivors
jog along uncomplainingly, and some even seem in a measure to enjoy
their existence--one can hardly call it life.
Wherever any dry land is found on the banks of these rivers, there
are established native towns; and opposite these are moored the hulks
in which the traders live. Some of these hulks have been fine vessels
in their day, and all are very comfortably fitted up and roofed over:
the finest is that of the African Steamship Company, the “Adriatic,”
which formerly belonged to the White Star Company, and is now moored in
Bonny river. Morning after morning the Europeans doomed to a wretched
existence in these floating prisons wake up with a feeling of weariness
and depression, and look out daily on the same muddy river with its
banks of reeking ooze and interminable mangrove swamps. At night time
the miasma creeps up from every creek and gradually enfolds all objects
in a damp white shroud; while the croaking of the bull-frogs, the cry
of a night-bird, and the lapping of the restless tide against the sides
of the hulk, are the only sounds that break the oppressive silence.
If ever a man were justified in seeking consolation from the flowing
bowl it would be in these rivers, which used to be the habitat of the
Palm Oil Ruffian, a creature that would not have been tolerated even
in Alsatia; but the _genus_ is now rapidly dying out, and soon bids
fair to be classed with the Plesiosaurus and other extinct reptiles.
Death seems ever at hand, and here he does not appear, as in some parts
of West Africa, clothed with sunlight and the beauties of tropical
vegetation, but accompanied by all the imperfections of a sewer-like
and miasmatic swamp.
The natives of the Niger delta are, with the exception of the Boobies
of Fernando Po, the most degraded and barbarous people found on the
West Coast of Africa. They are nearly all cannibals, and devour the
prisoners whom they capture in their internecine wars. The horrible
climate influences even the aborigines, nearly every second man or
woman one sees being covered with sores, or suffering from yaws,
elephantiasis, or some equally loathsome disease; and their religious
belief and fetish customs are tinged with the gloom which seems to
settle over the whole delta.
Very little is known of this part of Africa beyond the actual coast
line and the Niger river, up which steamers ascend for some hundreds
of miles. Between Benin and the Nun mouth the numerous western outlets
have not even been surveyed, and we find on the Admiralty Charts
“natives hostile and cannibals.” In that portion of the delta the
inhabitants will hold no friendly intercourse with white men. Even
in those rivers in which the trading hulks are moored, Europeans
are prevented by the chiefs from ascending the streams; and in the
different treaties there is generally a stipulation that the traders
shall not attempt to go beyond a certain distance. The reason of this
is that the tribes that reside near the mouths of the rivers act as
middle-men to the native oil-traders higher up, and they are afraid
that if we penetrate beyond a short distance we shall be able to
purchase the produce at first hand, and that they will thus lose their
percentage or commission.
The chief town in the delta of the Niger is that of Bonny, of which
George Pepple is the nominal king; he has, however, no power or
influence of any kind, and the real king is old Oko Jumbo, a veteran
chief, who has a large trading establishment by the riverside and is
very rich and prosperous.
George Pepple is like the average of Christianized negroes in West
Africa. A few years ago he was expelled from his kingdom by his
subjects, on account of the trouble he was bringing on the community by
his habit of obtaining goods from the traders and then repudiating the
debt, and went to England to spend the money with which his peculiar
method of doing business had provided him. In England he was baptized
by the Bishop of London, and made much of by undiscriminating persons.
One of his wives had accompanied him, and in London she acquired a
liking for cordial Old Tom, under the influence of which she neglected
to treat her liege lord with that deference which he considered his
due. Under these circumstances George Pepple determined to execute
her, and applied to the Lord Mayor for permission, merely as a matter
of form and to show that he knew what was due to the prejudices of
foreigners. He was much astonished and annoyed when he learned that
such an execution would be deemed a murder, and that the law of England
presumed to interfere in purely domestic episodes of this nature.
Shortly after this Pepple returned to Bonny; but before leaving England
he induced several credulous Englishmen to accompany him, promising
them high and lucrative positions about his court and person, such as
Master of the Horse, Chief Equerry, Groom in Waiting, and so on. After
having made elaborate preparations and being put to the expense of the
journey to Bonny, one can imagine the feelings of these men on finding
that the palace consisted of a mud hut and the kingdom of a few acres
of swamp, even in which limited monarchy his authority was _nil_.
In 1876 Pepple returned to England to try his old plan of obtaining
goods on credit, and was again treated as a great African potentate,
being entertained by the Lord Mayor, and his daily doings being duly
chronicled by the press. He has lately been released from the durance
vile in which his subjects had been keeping him on account of some
misdemeanour, but is still under a cloud, as his peculiarities are so
well known, and he is treated with but scant ceremony by the natives
and traders of Bonny river. As an instance of how little African
royalty is in consonance with European, I may mention that Pepple’s
eldest son was, until very recently, post-master at Accra with a salary
of some 50_l._ a year.
Bonny-town is the worst and dirtiest to be found on the West Coast of
Africa; the houses are small “wattle and daub” structures, and there
are no streets even of the poor description that are found in towns on
the Gold Coast. The huts are scattered about in indescribable confusion
amongst pools of mud, heaps of refuse, and cess-pits; and one cannot
walk more than a few hundred yards in any given direction without
finding a bar to further progress in the shape of a muddy creek. The
Bonny traders do not often honour the town with their presence, nor is
there any inducement for them to do so. The Ju-ju house is the only
“sight” in Bonny. It is a mud hut in a ruinous condition, in which,
piled up in wattle racks, are innumerable human skulls, the remains of
persons who have been sacrificed to the Ju-ju, or fetish. A glimpse of
these, and of a number of rudely-carved wooden idols, can be obtained
by peeping through an aperture in the broken-down wall of the house;
and even this must be done by stealth, as the natives do not care to
have white men prying into the mysteries of their religion; and, being
quite an independent people, they could inflict any fine or punishment
they might think proper on an inquisitive stranger.
The few acres on which Bonny-town is built, a sandy strip at Rough
Corner at the eastern entrance of the river, and about two acres on
Peterside, opposite Bonny-town, is all the dry land to be found within
miles; all else is interminable mangrove swamp, intersected with
creeks, to which the sharks from the river-bar come to breed. Should
a man fall overboard in Bonny river he is never seen again after the
first plunge, and it is supposed that there is a powerful under-current
which tows the body under, though others ascribe its disappearance to
the ubiquitous sharks.
A visitor to Bonny cannot fail to notice the number of old cannon
and carronades lying about uncared-for in the town. These are simply
neglected because they are out of date, for the natives of the Niger
delta, though so behindhand in civilisation, keep up their armament
to the style of the day. There is a battery of four Armstrong guns at
Peterside, where the river is one mile and a-half wide, and there
are several of these guns in Bonny-town. When making war upon another
tribe, the natives dismount these guns and lash them upon a sort of
deck built in the bows of one of their large canoes, which can carry
from thirty to forty persons. The gun then is of course immovable, so
in action the canoe is manœuvred till the piece points in the right
direction, when it is discharged. As they aim point-blank whether the
object aimed at be distant a mile or only a few yards, they do not do
much execution, except by accident. Besides these Armstrongs there
are thousands of breech-loading rifles, Sniders, Martini-Henrys, and
Winchester repeaters, in the hands of the natives, almost every man
possessing one. These are all imported by British merchants, and are
manufactured so cheaply in Birmingham that a trader in the oil rivers
can afford to sell a Snider rifle for 2_l._ and then make a slight
profit. Directly these natives obtain such rifles they want to go and
try their effect on something, and as they are useless for purposes of
sport, except against large game, which is not found in the delta, they
go and rake up some old quarrel with an insignificant tribe, and try
the efficacy of their weapons upon its members. To this cause may be
attributed most of their wars.
Oko Jumbo and Ja-Ja are the rival chiefs of the eastern outfalls of
the Niger; they are both natives of Bonny. Some years back a Government
of four regents, of which Oko Jumbo and Ja-Ja were members, was
established in Bonny. The two rival chiefs each wished to monopolise
the power, quarrels ensued, and finally Ja-Ja seceded and set up a
kingdom for himself. Since then each has been endeavouring to outvie
the other in the completeness of his war material. No sooner did Ja-Ja
hear that his rival at Bonny had Armstrong guns, than he also sent to
England for some. Recently a Gatling gun arrived for him, and the Bonny
natives are now devoured with rage and envy because they have not one.
Oko Jumbo has under his command some 7,000 or 8,000 men, all armed with
breech-loading rifles and well supplied with ammunition; and Ja-Ja can
put about the same number, similarly armed, into the field. The wars
between these chieftains are notorious; one has but lately come to
an end, in which several of Ja-Ja’s wives were captured and eaten by
the enemy, and judging from the past we may expect another war soon.
The bodies of the slain, and some of the prisoners taken, are always
eaten by the combatants, and the remainder of the prisoners are sold
into slavery. I asked Oko Jumbo why they did not eat all the captives,
since they seemed to like that kind of food, and he replied that a
good dinner was all very well in its way, but that it only satisfied
one for a day at the most, whereas the rum, tobacco, and cloth
purchased with the money obtained for the slaves would be a source of
gratification for some weeks. The traders always endeavour to settle
disputes between the natives, as during a war the river is closed, no
produce is brought down, and their trade is almost at a standstill;
they do not, however, seem inclined effectually to put an end to all
these petty wars by combining together to refuse to supply the natives
with arms and gunpowder.
Bonny-town rejoices in a bishop and an archdeacon of the Church of
England, both pure negroes. Notwithstanding the presence of these high
dignitaries of the Church, however, Christianity does not flourish in
Bonny. The only members of the Mission are the semi-Christianised and
semi-civilised negroes from Sierra Leone and Lagos, who by themselves
form a small colony. The men of this community are carpenters, coopers,
&c., who are employed by the traders; and the women--well, the less
that is said about them the better. Among the natives of Bonny itself
the missionaries make no converts; some will attend the services for a
few weeks, from curiosity or from the hope of obtaining something, and
then return to their old habits. The zeal of the missionary is wasted,
for the fetish priests, who possess enormous influence, exercise all
their power to prevent any of their followers joining the Mission.
This is probably the only reason of the failure, because Christianity
amongst negroes only consists in the outward observance of the Sunday
ceremonies, and proselytes would have to give up none of their present
pleasing practices. Morality is a word which conveys no meaning
whatever to the ordinary negro mind. Fetishism is everywhere rampant;
before almost every house may be seen a wooden or clay idol, to which
offerings of food and drink are daily made, and human sacrifices are
not by any means rare. A very common sacrifice to Ju-ju is that of a
young girl, who is at low water fastened to a stake firmly imbedded in
the river mud, and then left to perish in the rising tide, or to be
devoured by sharks or crocodiles.
All English Missions on the West Coast of Africa, of whatever
denomination, are an utter failure. Their custom is to get children to
attend their schools, and then administer doses of religion to them,
with the rudiments of reading, writing, and arithmetic. Now, in the
first place, the advantage of these acquirements does not very much
strike the average negro parent, and, in the second place, the schools
turn out annually scores of youths who are only fitted, educationally,
to become shopmen and subordinate clerks and bookkeepers. There being
only a limited demand for such persons, it follows that the majority
of the Mission ex-pupils can obtain no employment of that kind; they
consider themselves, on account of what they call their superior
education, above work, and so, having nothing else to do, they devote
their minds and acquirements to the swindling of their more ignorant
fellow-countrymen; and some of them, establishing themselves as clerks
and advisers to the bush chiefs, do incalculable mischief.
The German Missions follow a much better plan. To each Mission
is attached a European carpenter, blacksmith, cooper, tailor, or
shoemaker, as a sort of lay-brother, and the pupils are taught these
trades. The immense advantage of having his children taught a trade
gratuitously is patent to the most careless negro parent, and he sends
his children to the school accordingly; while in after-life they
have the means of earning an honest livelihood, and becoming useful
members of the community. Accra now supplies almost the whole of the
Gold Coast and the Niger delta with artisans, because a German Mission
has been established at Christiansborg for years, where the system of
inculcating the great fact that honest and useful labour is much more
praiseworthy than idle psalm-singing has been steadfastly pursued. I
should advise those quasi-philanthrophists, who prefer squandering
their money on the utopian negro to relieving the necessities of the
poor of their own country, to withdraw their support from the English
societies and transfer it to the Basle and Bremen Missions.
The only recreation which Bonny affords is curlew-shooting, which I
enjoyed several times with my host of the “Adriatic.” Towards sun-set,
when the curlew began to fly down towards their feeding-ground at
Breaker Island at the mouth of the river, we used to take a boat up one
of the numerous creeks, run her on to the mud at one side, and proceed
to make a screen of mangrove branches. From behind this leafy cover we
bagged many a bird on its flight down the creek. The number of guanas
found in these channels is enormous; when keeping perfectly quiet under
our cover we could see dozens upon dozens of them, some four or five
feet in length, crawling about on the opposite bank, or leaping out of
the water in pursuit of fish. This reptile is sacred, or fetish, at
Bonny, as is the python in Dahomey and the crocodile at Accra.
It is advisable on such shooting excursions to be accompanied by
somebody who knows the river. On my return to Bonny later on, after
visiting Old Calabar, the doctor of the steamer and I nearly came to
grief through going by ourselves. We left the ship shortly before
sunset, and steered towards a long and narrow mud-bank down the
river, where we had noticed that thousands of birds went to feed at
nightfall. We reached the bank just as the light was beginning to
fail; the cries of innumerable waterfowl rose from the mud, and we
congratulated ourselves on being about to make a good bag. To our
great annoyance we found, after following the sinuosities of the bank
for some time, that we could not get within range from the boat; but,
as we did not intend to be disappointed in that way, we got out and
waded through the slime, dragging the boat a short way with us, till
we reached what we considered a safe spot to leave it on. It was
now nearly dark, but we could see the white plumage of hundreds of
pelicans and other waterfowl a short distance off, so we both fired.
An indescribable clamour of screams and cries followed the reports, as
myriads of birds rose from the mud and wheeled and circled overhead. We
reloaded, picked up our birds, and waited. Gradually the cries became
fewer and fewer, and at last the whole flock settled down upon the
furthest end of the bank. We were not satisfied with what we had got
(what sportsman ever is?), so we gained the crest of the bank, where
the footing was firmer, and proceeded to walk towards our prey, about
three-quarters of a mile distant. We there repeated the former process
with equal success, and turned to retrace our steps to our boat.
When we had accomplished about half the distance a horrible shiver,
or tremor, seemed to stir the whole surface of the mud, and we both
sank to our knees in slime. I never felt such fear before: I did not
need any one to tell me what that ghastly tremor prognosticated; I
knew we were on a quick-sand, or rather quick-mud, and that the tide
must be coming in, and the prospect of being sucked down and smothered
in reeking ooze was not a pleasant one. We drew our legs from the
quivering mass, and tried to run in the direction in which we had left
our boat. Worse and worse: we sank deeper and deeper at every step,
the darkness, too, grew ever denser; we feared that our boat had been
carried away by the rising tide, and we knew not which way to turn to
extricate ourselves--assistance, we well knew, there was none. As the
mud appeared a little firmer to our left we moved on to it, and waited
in silence, panting and breathless from our late exertions. The birds,
who had been the cause of our getting into this fix, came wheeling
round overhead, and their cries echoed weirdly in the deathly stillness
of the night. I said to the doctor--
“Let us fire off our guns together--somebody may hear us--It’s our only
chance.”
“I don’t think it’s any use.”
“Well, let us try anyhow.”
We fired three or four times, but heard nothing except the lap lap of
the tide as it gradually drew nearer to us, and the screams of the
frightened birds. Presently a ripple of water came along and washed our
ancles, for our feet were buried, and almost simultaneously the doctor
sank to the armpits. I thought it was all over then, but I loaded
mechanically and fired once more. The report had scarcely died away
before my companion shouted excitedly:--
“I saw something white behind you, by the flash of your gun--perhaps
it’s hard sand.”
I helped him up on to the firmer mud where I was standing, and we tried
to make our way towards what he had seen. After about two paces we both
sank to our waists, and, in trying to get out, floundered on to our
faces; but when our heads were thus raised but little above the level
of the slime we could see, dimly through the darkness, a white crest
about twenty yards off. It was a ridge of sand. How we got through
the intervening distance I do not know; but, partly swimming, partly
crawling and floundering along, we at last felt the dry sand under our
hands, and, drawing ourselves up to the top of the little bank, fell
down utterly done up.
We neither of us said anything for some time, and then we began
complaining about the loss of our guns and hats, and wishing for
something with which to take the taste of the mud out of our mouths.
We could not see each other, it was too dark, but we must have looked
pretty objects, clothed from head to foot in a coating of black mud
which smelt--unpleasantly. Soon we began to shiver with cold, and
there was no room for exercise; the minutes dragged on their flight
as if they were leaden, and we thought the night would never come to
an end. At last, after about two hours, we heard a faint halloo in
the distance. We shouted in reply until we were quite hoarse and our
throats sore; then the cry was repeated, and we knew we were all right.
Soon we heard the creaking of rowlocks, and a boat glided up to us. We
were not sorry to see it.
In 1879 a Member of Parliament, an extremely _rara avis_ on the West
Coast of Africa, visited Bonny in his yacht, and the traders still
narrate the following harrowing tale about him. They say that one
morning, being on shore, he strolled into old Oko Jumbo’s house about
11 a.m., and found that veteran warrior at breakfast. He was asked to
partake of the meal, and, being anxious to try the native cookery,
acquiesced. A black clay dish full of some oleaginous stew was set
before him, which he eyed askance, and finally tasted with doubt. A
little fiery perhaps, owing to the native liking for red peppers, but
otherwise not bad: so he plunged his spoon in and fell to like a
man. After a few mouthfuls he unearthed from the bottom of the dish
a curious-looking object. A cold shudder convulsed his frame, and he
looked closely. He could distinguish what seemed like five fingers and
the palm of a hand, and, seized with a violent nervous contraction of
the diaphragm, he leaped from the table and leaned out of a window.
After a little he looked back into the room with brimming eyes, a
haggard brow, and a mind full of the tales of the cannibal propensities
of the natives of Bonny. He approached the old chief with tottering
limbs, and one hand pressed upon the abdominal region, and inquired:--
“What’s in that dish?”
“Me no _sabe_--no eat him dish yet.”
“You old scoundrel, it’s ’long pig’:” and again he rushed with
exceeding swiftness to look at the prospect out of the window.
When he had recovered, he took his hat and stick sorrowfully, and
staggered down the steps. Just as he was stepping into the boat, one of
Oko Jumbo’s slaves came running up with the identical black dish that
had been the cause of all this woe. The enraged legislator brandished
his stick and said:--
“What do you want? What do you mean by bringing that here?”
“Master said he thought you wanted it.”
“No, I don’t--take it out of my sight.”
Just as the boy was going he thought he might as well add a little to
his stock of information, and added:--
“I suppose that’s one of Ja Ja’s babies, eh?”
“Which, Master?”
“Why that in the stew, you fool.”
A serene smile broke out over the interesting countenance of the youth
as he replied:--
“Piccin? This no piccin chop. No war palaver live now. Him Guana.”
CHAPTER VIII.
Old Calabar--Duke Town--Capital Punishments--Moistening the
Ancestral Clay--A Surgeon’s Liabilities--Man-eaters--A Mongrel
Consul--Curious Judgments.
From Bonny I went on to the Old Calabar river, called by the natives
Kalaba and Oróne, which, though always included with the outfalls
of the Niger under the general title of Oil Rivers, is an entirely
distinct stream. After twenty hours’ steaming from Bonny we entered
the estuary of the river, and, crossing the bar, ascended the stream,
which, in comparison with the wide reach of Bonny river, seemed small
and contracted, though it is of fair size, and very deep. About ten
miles from the bar we passed Parrot Island, an isle in the centre
of the river, covered with a dense growth of mangrove trees, and
entered upon a narrower channel to the right of the island. The
banks were thickly wooded, and it was a strange sight to see a large
steamer pursuing its way in the midst of a dense forest, and within
a stone’s throw of the bank. The far-spreading branches brushed the
yards of the ship, and the alligators, disturbed by the stroke of the
propeller, lazily crawled out of the black mud in which they had
been wallowing. As at this part of the stream the navigable channel
follows very closely the eastern bank, it is no uncommon occurrence for
sailing-ships ascending and descending to get their rigging fouled with
the overhanging branches.
Thirty miles from the entrance of the river we anchored off Duke-town,
where lie the hulks of the traders: the stream here is half-a-mile in
breadth, and there is sufficient draught of water for vessels of 2,000
tons.
Duke-town is more pleasantly situated, better built, and larger, than
Bonny-town, and the natives are of a less barbarous type. The town
stands on a hill which slopes gently towards the river, and behind it
the ground rises into a kind of plateau, a good deal of which is under
cultivation, and where there is a thriving American Mission station.
For the European traders, however, who live in hulks and very rarely
go ashore, Old Calabar is perhaps a more unpleasant place of residence
than Bonny. Opposite and below Duke-town are the same mangrove swamps,
at low water the same reeking mud, at night the same malarial fog;
while the water of the river is of a more filthy description than that
of Bonny (to bathe in it is said to cause a loathsome skin disease);
the stream is only one-third of the width of the former, and Duke-town,
being so far inland, is deprived of the sea-breeze, which at Bonny
helps one to drag out a miserable existence; the heat, therefore, is
most oppressive.
The name of Duke-town is derived from a native family of high rank
which has adopted the European patronymic of Duke, and two principal
members of which, Prince Duke and Henshaw Duke, are among the leading
chiefs of the place. As the possession of Armstrong guns and munitions
of war is considered a sign of wealth and authority in Bonny, so here
a man’s status is fixed by the style of house he inhabits. This hobby
is carried to such a length that the chiefs have wooden houses sent out
to them from England and Germany, and keep European carpenters in their
pay to erect them and keep them in repair. Some of these houses bristle
with turrets, porticoes, verandahs, and bow-windows, and the chief
whose residence has the largest number of these appendages is the one
who makes the greatest show of wealth and influence.
Although in this respect the natives of Old Calabar seem more amenable
to civilising influences than those of Bonny, there is not equal
superiority displayed in their customs, except in the absence of the
practice of cannibalism. Their treatment of criminals, for instance, is
marked by great cruelty. When a native is detected in the commission
of any serious offence, such as murder or theft, he is gagged, laid
across an upturned canoe, his back broken by blows from heavy clubs,
and his body thrown into the river. Sometimes they vary their _modus
operandi_, and, after gagging the culprit, they truss him like a fowl,
and fastening him to stakes driven into the mud at low water leave him
to be drowned or devoured by alligators.
A curious local custom is that called “Feeding the Dead.” When they
bury their dead, the relatives, before the earth is filled into the
grave, place a tube, formed of bamboo, or pithy wood with the pith
extracted, and sufficiently long to protrude from the earth heaped
up over the body, into the mouth of the deceased; and down this they
pour, from time to time, palm wine, water, palm oil, &c. They appear to
imagine that dead men do not require solid food at all, and, as they
only pour the liquids down two or three times a month, are not very
thirsty souls. They believe that after death the deceased suffers from
the same bodily ailments as he did in life, and sometimes very filial
natives will go to the doctor of a steamer, and simulate the complaint
from which the paternal or maternal ancestor suffered, in order that
they may obtain the requisite medicine to pour down the grave. One day
a lad, son of a late chief, came to the resident doctor of the river
and said:--
“Doctor, my foot sick. Gimme some med’cine.”
“What’s the matter with it?” inquired the doctor.
“Him swell up--fit to burst--can’t walk no more.”
The Galen of the river examined the foot, and, finding it perfectly
sound and healthy, and not swollen in the least, assumed an enraged
aspect, and demanded fiercely--
“What d’you mean by telling me these lies?”
“Please, master, not my foot sick, my fader foot sick.”
“Then tell him to come here himself.”
“He can’t come--they put him ground already.”
“D’you mean he’s dead?”
“Yes, master--him dead now ’bout three month.”
“Then what d’you mean by coming here? Get out of this.”
“Master, I want the med’cine for sick foot same as I tell you. I want
to give him my fader, he no get med’cine since he put in ground. I know
him foot plenty sick now.”
“Well, I’ll give you some if you pay for it.”
“I no get money, master.”
“Then you won’t get any medicine.”
The filial affection of these people is not such that they will expend
coin of the realm in the purchase of medicine or drink for their
dead parents. They do not give them rum for instance. The ancestral
clay only gets moistened with palm wine or water, while the more
exhilarating beverage goes down their own throats. Perhaps they think
that ghosts have weak heads and cannot stand mundane spirits.
The natives of Old Calabar extend the liabilities of a surgeon to an
extent that would be most appalling to practitioners of surgery if
it were generally adopted in Europe. A doctor on this river was once
called to a case in which a boy had had his leg crushed and fearfully
lacerated by an alligator, and, to save the boy’s life, amputated the
leg above the knee. It was a very complicated case, as there were
other injuries besides; but after much trouble and hard work his
efforts were crowned with success, and the patient was declared out
of danger. Not many days after he had ceased visiting the wounded
boy he descried, while sitting on the deck of the hulk in which he
resided, a canoe being paddled towards him; which, as it drew nearer,
he could see contained the parents, brothers, and sisters of his late
patient and the patient himself. He thought they were coming to express
their gratitude and thankfulness to him for saving the life of their
beloved relative, and with the pleased self-consciousness of having
performed a virtuous action prepared to receive them. When the family
had climbed up the ladder on to the deck they solemnly and sadly,
and in dead silence, supporting the crippled boy in their midst,
approached the doctor; and then, depositing their burden at his feet,
retired hurriedly to the ladder as if to go away again. The astonished
benefactor, wondering what this could mean, called them back and asked
for an explanation of their behaviour. Then broke forth a torrent of
woe; they lifted up their voices in lamentation, and said that he had
cut off the leg of their poor son and brother; he had crippled him for
life, so that now he could not work or be of any use to them; he had
taken all the joy out of their beloved relative’s life, and maimed him
so that he had become a bye-word and a jest, and that consequently he
must support him. They added thoughtfully that if he liked to pay a
daily sum for the boy’s subsistence they would take care of him and
not make any charge for lodging. The doctor was at first overwhelmed
by this unexpected assault, but soon recovering himself, he, in an
injured tone, taxed them with ingratitude, pointed out to them that
he had only taken off the leg to save the boy’s life, and that if he
had not done so the child would have died, and have been lost to them
altogether. Upon this the family with renewed tribulation declared that
it would have been better if the boy had died, as then they would only
have incurred the comparatively trifling expense of the funeral custom;
whereas now they would have to keep him all his life if his mutilator
did not do his duty and support him; and all this time the boy himself
lay silent on the deck, looking at his saviour with mournful and
reproachful eyes, that seemed to say “look at the condition to which
you have reduced me.” The argument was carried on until at last,
finding that the family was not amenable to reason, the doctor had the
whole of them turned out of the ship. After that he thought that the
matter was settled and that he would hear no more of it, but these
poor injured people were not going to let him off so easily. A few
days later, when he went ashore, they met him in the street, laid the
cripple at his feet, and again filled the air with cries of woe and
abuse of the doctor. He tried to escape them, but when he moved on
they followed wailing with their maimed boy; if he walked fast, so did
they; when he stopped they stopped too, and formed a lamenting circle
round him; when he went into a house they congregated on the doorstep
and made conversation impossible with their complaints; and at last he
had to fly for refuge to his hulk. Every time he went on shore this was
repeated; until at last he had to give up going out, and was confined
to the ship altogether. When the importunate parents discovered this
they came out in a canoe, and day after day paddled round the vessel,
yelling out their grievances in discordant and dismal tones. It was
too much for the unfortunate doctor, his life became a misery to him,
and at last he flung up his lucrative practice, exchanged with another
doctor, and went off to one of the Niger outfalls. Surgical operations
are not now in high favour with doctors on the Old Calabar river.
I have said that the original cause of all this trouble was an
alligator who had been seized with an uncontrollable desire to dine
off the leg of a boy, and man-eaters of this description are not by
any means uncommon in this part of the world. Women washing clothes,
men fishing, and children dabbling about by the edge of the water, are
frequently seized and dragged into the river by alligators. Sometimes
these monsters will even attack men on shore, and, a few days before
my arrival, a watchman, who was on duty over a corrugated iron store
on the river bank, was seized in the night, some thirty yards from the
brink of the water, by an alligator, and dragged into the stream. The
cries of the man alarmed the neighbourhood, but those who hastened to
his assistance found nothing to show what had become of him but pools
of blood and the trail of the alligator in the mud. A short distance
above Duke-town are the remains of two or three old hulks, lying
rotting in the mud, which are a favourite resort of these alligators;
and any one dropping down with the tide in a boat can see scores of
these disgusting creatures, from fifteen to twenty feet long, basking
on them. They are very wary, because they are so often shot at, and at
the slightest creak of an oar in a rowlock all will stand up to their
full height, moving their heads up and down in exactly the same manner
as do lizards when alarmed; and directly they catch sight of a boat
they plunge into the water.
I went up the river one day to get a shot at these, or any others I
might see, but it was under circumstances that made success as probable
as it would be if one went out alligator-shooting accompanied by a
brass band in full blast. I went with a youth, who, from having been a
clerk to one of the traders in the river, had, by the death of Consul
Hopkins, a man universally admired and respected in West Africa, been
suddenly thrust into the position of Acting Consul for the Bights
of Benin and Biafra. I never saw a better illustration of the old
saying about being clothed in a little brief authority. In the eyes
of this hybrid official the paraphernalia of office were of paramount
importance, and, as he had no consular uniform of his own, he had
donned, despite the unsuitableness in point of size, the garments of
the late consul. The new man was very tall, whereas his predecessor had
been short; the consequence of which difference was that there was a
woeful hiatus between the termination of the short jacket with brass
buttons and the band of the continuations, which gap exposed to view a
vast region of not very clean shirt. The gold-laced cap of office was
too small, and on the head of the gallant youth presented very much the
same appearance as would a thimble upon the top of an orange. He wore
it in and out of season; and I shall never forget the consternation and
horror which was depicted on his countenance, when, through yawning
in a moment of forgetfulness, it slipped from its perch and fell into
the river; nor how he strove to console himself, and make the best of
his loss, by rushing to the purser of the homeward-bound steamer, and
asking him to bring out three new ones for him next trip. It was in the
boat of this magnificent official that I went up the river. It was a
gorgeous gig, with an awning astern and brass fittings; he would abate
none of his glory, and took his six oarsmen, in consequence of which
the splashing of the oars and the creaking of the rowlocks awoke the
echoes of the forest, and frightened every bird, beast, and reptile
within half-a-mile. Of course we saw nothing, and did not fire a shot.
While I was at Old Calabar this “Jack in Office” had an opportunity
of displaying his judicial authority and legal acumen. Two Kroomen on
board the mail steamer were charged by the Captain with having broken
open a bale out of the cargo, and appropriated the contents. The
accused protested their innocence, and the only evidence against them
was that of another Krooman, who said that he had found the covering of
the missing bale, which was easily known by its marks, in a part of the
hold near which he had seen the two prisoners, but to which any one in
the ship had access. This was quite enough for the Acting Consul: he
sentenced the men to three dozen lashes each, which he waited to see
administered, and then he handed them over, though they were natives
of Sierra Leone and consequently British subjects, to an independent
native chief to be kept in slavery. This was tantamount to giving an
official approval to the practice of slavery; and had it occurred in
any other part of the world more would have been heard of it, but no
one troubles himself about such things in West Africa.
CHAPTER IX.
Sierra Leone--More Civility--Cobras--A Guilty Conscience--Naval
Types--Freetown Society--A Musical Critic--The Rural Districts--A
British Atrocity.
On January 1st, 1881, I returned once more to Sierra Leone. I found the
place and people very much improved, which improvement was, I believe,
entirely due to the action of the late Governor, Sir Samuel Rowe, who
had consequently acquired the cordial hatred of all the Sierra Leone
lower classes. Future Governors need not however lose heart; there is
still something left for them to do, and, if they are only sufficiently
energetic, they will have no difficulty in gaining that unpopularity
with the natives which is, in West Africa, more honourable than
popularity.
Civility to Europeans is still one of the weak points of the Sierra
Leonians. Two or three days after my arrival some enterprising burglar
ransacked my quarters during my absence, and removed everything which
he considered worth taking. Suspicion fell upon the occupants of a
certain house in the town, and a search-warrant was issued. As it was
necessary that the stolen articles should be at once identified, if
found, I had to accompany the police who went to examine this den; but,
as the aroma of such dwellings is not usually pleasant, I allowed them
to go into the house, and went and sat down on a rock by the roadside
under the shade of a tree.
While so sitting, a Sierra Leone gentleman, whom I had seen for some
distance coming along the road towards me, drew nigh, and lifted up his
voice and spake, saying:--
“Hullo, you white nigger--what you do here, eh?”
I pretended to be deeply abstracted in the examination of the soil at
my feet, and made no answer; while he continued, working himself into a
passion as he proceeded--
“Heigh, you white nigger. You too proud to talk, eh? Dam brute.”
A small crowd began to collect and make facetious remarks at my
expense, so I said to my annoyer:--
“If you don’t go away I’ll call the police.”
“Heigh! hear dat. _You_ call de police, white nigger? _Me_ call de
police, and give you in charge for ’ssault. All dese gen’lmen here saw
you ’ssault me--dam brute.”
At this moment, fortunately, for I was beginning to feel a little
displeased at this language, the sergeant of the police came out of
the house, and I called him. Quite a change at once came o’er the
spirit of the scene; my antagonist, crestfallen, executed a skilful
flank movement up a bye-street, covering his retreat by a continuous
and heavy fire of abuse, while his supports scattered and sought the
nearest cover.
I could not have had this man locked up for what he had done, but the
law is a beautiful and far-reaching, if somewhat complex, machine,
and of course I could have a legal remedy. It only required the few
following little preliminaries. Firstly, I should have had to ascertain
the name of the individual; secondly, discover his place of residence;
thirdly, attend and take out a summons against him; fourthly, pay for
it; fifthly, have it served on the defendant; and sixthly, have a day
appointed for the hearing of the case. Then, after having satisfied,
if possible, these first requirements, it would be necessary for me to
go down to the town in the heat of the day, and remain in a crowded
and suffocating court for perhaps hours, subjected to the insidious
insinuations and brow-beatings of a negro lawyer, who would very
likely after all turn the tables on me by producing fifteen or twenty
witnesses, all thoroughly well schooled in what they had to say, who
would swear that I had perpetrated a vindictive and brutal assault upon
a poor black brother who had merely asked me what o’clock it was. Even
if I did succeed in obtaining a conviction, the defendant would only
be bound over to keep the peace; and he would incite his relatives and
friends to give me plenty of entertainment during my residence in the
country.
This of course is only one side of the question, and, I am bound
to say on the other side, that the servants of the two steamship
companies, which run vessels from Liverpool to West Africa, are a
great deal too free in the violent application of their boots to the
persons of negroes who may go on board the steamers; so perhaps the
latter retaliate on those Europeans who live in the place as a kind of
compensation.
An otherwise friendly critic thought it strange that this should be the
state of things at Sierra Leone. It is strange; but then things are
not on the West Coast of Africa as they are elsewhere. In what other
colony, for instance, could one find a Colonial official, holding a
high position and drawing a large salary, who advanced money to all
applicants on the security of jewelry and such small portable articles
of value, or in what part of the British Empire an officer, head of a
Colonial department, who uses his influence to _persuade_ his negro
subordinates to insure their lives in a company for which he is agent,
thereby pocketing a commission of twenty-five or thirty per cent. on
each policy?
I do not think I have hitherto made any mention of the black
cobras-di-capello which are the pest of the barracks at Tower Hill.
These playful companions seem to have a particular predilection for
the sunny banks and rocks of that hill, and, during my two months’
residence there in 1874, four were killed within five or ten yards of
the officers’ mess; but they appear to have become much more familiar
of late years, and, a few days after my arrival, one was seen, and
another killed, in a bedroom on the second story. As a bite from one of
these snakes causes certain death within three hours, one would wish to
have less dangerous domestic creatures at large. There must be hundreds
of them in the vicinity of the barracks, as I have seen eight or nine
myself at different times; and while walking up the hill one evening in
the dusk barely escaped treading on one, being only just warned in time
by a shrill hiss. These cobras usually go about in couples, and during
the breeding season they will, though totally unmolested, make direct
for any person who may happen to approach them.
_Apropos_ of snakes,--a naval officer had rather an amusing adventure
with one at Tower Hill. He had come ashore, from a gunboat lying in the
harbour, to dine at mess; and, as is usually the case, had suddenly
discovered, after the third or fourth rubber, about 11 p.m., that he
could not get off to his ship that night, and must trespass upon
somebody’s kindness for a bed. He was assisted to a room, and the
lights were being put out in the mess when we heard a series of wild
shouts up stairs, and then a noise as of some heavy body thumping and
banging down the steps. We ran out into the passage, and discovered
the naval man lying curled up, half undressed, at the bottom of the
stair-case; so we lifted him up and asked what was the matter. He
appeared very much frightened, and gasped out:--
“Oh, Lord! I’ve got them at last.”
“Got what?” we inquired.
“Oh, Lord: I’ve got them at last--Oh, send for a doctor will you. I’ll
never touch another drop of that cursed ship’s rum, if I get over this.”
“But what have you got?” we reiterated.
“Got? I’ve got the jumps--that’s what I’ve got.”
“Nonsense! go to bed! you’re all right.”
“I tell you I’m not. I could have sworn I saw a snake in my bed just
now, and that’s one of the first signs.”
He was so eager to see a doctor that we took him to one, and then went
up to examine his room. True enough there was a snake, coiled up in the
blanket on his bed. It was a python, which had escaped from a cage in
which several were confined in an adjoining room. Two of us seized it
by the head and two by the tail to take it back to its prison. As we
were carrying it along it drew itself up and our four heads collided
together with a crash; then it straightened itself out, and we shot off
violently towards the four corners of the room; it required the united
efforts of six men to remove that snake to his own domicile. This
adventure shows what a guilty conscience will effect; and it was the
more amusing because the naval hero had, not with the best taste, been
loudly proclaiming that he was almost a teetotaller, that all military
officers were drunkards, and that nobody ever died in West Africa
except from the effect of ardent spirits. He went away rather early
next morning without waiting to say “good-bye” to anybody.
I wonder what has become of the jovial, open-handed, and open-hearted
naval officers that one reads about in works of fiction, and who
continually interlard their conversation with nautical expressions;
one never meets any of this description now-a-days, in fact quite the
contrary; and I am half inclined to believe that they never were more
than creatures of the imagination, but if ever they did exist the
species is now extinct. The life that naval officers lead shut up in a
floating tank on the West Coast of Africa is horrible; sometimes they
do not set foot on shore for months together, but lie day after day,
rolling fearfully, off a few mud huts and a grove of cocoanut palms.
They have hardly any work to do, and, as but few of them have any
resources of amusement or occupation, they as a natural consequence
quarrel amongst themselves; and in almost every gunboat one finds the
five or six officers divided into two or three cliques, each of which
will have nothing to say to either of the others, except on official
matters. This sort of thing is rather unpleasant for any stranger who
may happen to be on board. First of all one will come up and enter into
conversation with you, during which he is sure to say:--
“Do you know that man over there?”
“No, I don’t,” you reply.
“Ah! his name is Blank. He is the most awful ass I ever met--I
shouldn’t have anything to say to him if I were you.”
Then he goes away, and he is barely out of sight before another
saunters up and begins talking. Presently he will say:--
“Do you know Smith well?”
“No, who’s Smith?” you inquire.
“Oh, that was Smith that was talking to you just now. He’s the most
inveterate liar I ever met--you must never believe anything he tells
you.”
Then after he has gone away Blank will come forward, and after a few
preliminary sentences casually inform you that both Smith and your
second acquaintance are confirmed drunkards. No sooner has Blank moved
off than the confidential naval officer, who calls you “old man” and
speaks in low and thick tones, will draw nigh and tell you what the
failings of every officer on board may be; finally leaving you under
the impression that every one but himself is thoroughly incapable,
untrustworthy, and of intemperate habits, and that were it not for him
the ship would go to the dogs.
I was once on board a man-of-war for a few days in which this
unsociability was carried to such a degree that at the gun-room mess
every officer, at breakfast and tea, used to produce, from the depths
of his bunk, a pot of jam, or a tin of potted meat, and devour it all
by himself without offering it or saying a word to his comrades.
Then there is the naval officer, who, before you have fairly set foot
on board, rushes at you and informs you that you have omitted saluting
the quarter-deck; and who always loses his temper when you tell him
that you do not know where it is, and are looking for it; and the
self-asserting man who is perpetually telling you what his relative
rank is. I remember an individual of this latter class, who when a
guest at a military detachment mess, the senior dining member of which
was a captain, kept remarking.--
“You know I’m senior to all you fellows. As I’m a lieutenant of eight
years’ service I rank with a major.”
He might have ranked with a major-general for all any one cared, but
after he had said this at intervals some nine or ten times it began to
become monotonous; so somebody said, as if to the punkah:--
“I’ve often heard that remark made before, but I never yet heard a
major in the army boast that he ranked with a lieutenant in the navy.”
Society at Sierra Leone is in a very bad way; in fact from an English
point of view one may say that there is no society at all. The only
Europeans in the place are the officers of the garrison, the Colonial
officials, and a few shop-keepers, who, although they will sell
anything from three-pence worth of rum upwards, rejoice here in the
title of merchants. Ladies there are none, except on the few occasions
on which an officer’s wife may be found residing at Tower Hill, so what
little society there is consists of men alone, and is composed of the
most heterogeneous elements. Most of the so-called merchants appear
to have sprung from the lower _strata_ of English life, many of them
have black wives, and a large majority of the Colonial officers are
coloured; the Governors never seem to make the slightest attempt to
collect around themselves the more cultivated members of the Colony,
and everybody does that which seems good in his own eyes. The _élite_
of the coloured population sometimes get up balls, similar to the one
I witnessed at Lagos, and which like it usually terminate in an orgie,
and to these Europeans are occasionally invited; but it is only those
who have no sense of the ludicrous, or who have their facial muscles
well under control, that can afford to go. The retailing of scandal
seems to be the principal occupation of the town society, and if one
were to place implicit credence in the tales and gossip which abound
one would inevitably arrive at the conclusion that there was not an
honourable man or a virtuous woman in the place.
In by-gone years the officers of the garrison used to inaugurate
races, and a tract of ground near Kissi, on which stands a diminutive
grand-stand, is still called the race-course; but now the sole
amusement of the colony is the performance of the band of the regiment
therein stationed, on the green patch of ground known as the Battery.
This performance takes place once a week, but the majority of the
people are too lazy and apathetic to go to hear it, and, with the
exception of a few Colonial officers and some forty or fifty ragged
children, the musicians discourse to empty air. There was one Colonial
officer who was a regular attendant on band days, and whose principal
aim in life seemed to be to pose as an authority on music before the
uninitiated. As he knew nothing whatever of the science, and had
successfully picked up the phrases used in music without in the least
understanding their meaning, he frequently entangled himself in the
most irretrievable confusion, and was a source of much amusement.
One day the band was playing Gounod’s Serenade, and during the
performance the critic walked round and round as usual, beating time
in the air with his walking-stick, and assailing every inoffensive
bystander with a hailstorm of scientific jargon. When the piece was
finished he nodded approval and said:--
“Ah! pretty thing--pretty thing. Fine scale of minor fifths. Let me
see; what is it called?”
“That? Oh! it’s one of Whistler’s ‘Nocturnes,’” said somebody.
“Yes, yes. Of course it is. Whistler’s ‘Nocturne.’ How stupid of me to
forget the name.”
It is said that this connoisseur once remarked that the Marquois scale
was most difficult for a beginner on the flute; but that, when once
learned, it was so beautiful as to well repay all trouble.
The peninsula of Sierra Leone is, exclusive of Freetown, divided into
various rural districts, known as the First Eastern, Second Eastern,
Western, and Mountain districts. In addition to these the outlying
territories of British Sherbro, the Isles de Los, and Ki-Konkeh at the
mouth of the Scarcies river, form integral portions of the Colony. The
Mountain district is very picturesque and affords some fine views,
especially in the neighbourhood of Regent, where the Sugar Loaf, a
densely-wooded peak about 3000 feet in height, towers over the little
village. At Leicester Park, 1990 feet high, the Government have lately
purchased a building called the Hospice, which had been constructed by
the Roman Catholic Mission, 1495 feet above the sea, and it is used as
a kind of sanitarium. Living up in these mountains takes one into an
entirely different atmosphere to that of the town, and it is decidedly
more healthy, except during the rainy season, when sometimes for days
together the mountains are shrouded in clouds, and a drenching mist
drives in at every opened door and window. These mountains all abound
in deer and other game, but the cover is so dense that they are rarely
seen; and to endeavour to beat up a ravine or valley is an expensive
operation, as fifty or sixty beaters are required, all of whom want to
be paid unreasonably highly for their services.
The Eastern district may be described as the frontier district of the
peninsula, it being bounded by the Waterloo creek and Ribbi river,
which separate it from Timmanee country. The Timmanees periodically
commit outrages on British subjects, and small wars ensue. These wars
are, however, almost invariably bloodless; as the natives, on the
approach of a disciplined force, at once evacuate their towns and take
refuge in the forest. The towns are then destroyed and the troops and
police return to Freetown, to wait until the natives have repaired the
damage done, and begin their pillaging and murdering afresh.
In 1880 the Timmanees, who had been quiet for some time, began making
disturbances; and the inhabitants of the village of Waterloo could not
leave their homes without being murdered, or, at all events, fired
upon. A handful of men was accordingly sent out from the garrison of
Freetown, a few Timmanee villages burned, and order restored. During
this small campaign a surgeon who accompanied the force committed a
most unheard-of outrage. The bodies of a number of friendly natives,
who had been killed by the Timmanees, had been placed in a pit, but
not covered with earth, in order that the officers who were sent to
restore order might actually see what the Timmanees had done. Upon
this pit, about a week after the corpses had been placed in it, the
surgeon chanced to light. To the astonishment and disgust of those who
were with him he immediately sprang into it, and, drawing his sword,
proceeded to hack off three or four heads from the bodies. Some of the
relatives of the murdered men came running up, and their indignation
and horror at this mutilation can be better imagined than described.
Notwithstanding all they could say the surgeon continued his work
until he had obtained sufficient specimens. He then clambered out,
put the heads in a calabash, and walked off: remarking in a jocular
manner that he had fleshed his maiden sword. On arriving at his boat
he appeared surprised and annoyed that any one should blame him for
what he had done, and when the officer in charge of the boat refused to
take his ghastly cargo on board his indignation knew no bounds. Should
a Turk impale a Bulgarian, or a Montenegrin cut the ears off a dead
Turk, the whole of England is convulsed with horror, and the entire
diplomatic machinery of the country set at work to discover and punish
the offender; but in West Africa, when a British officer wantonly
mutilates the dead, nothing is said about the matter. Can it be a
subject for surprise that the natives of this part of the world should
be barbarous, when such examples as this are set them by those whom
they consider their superiors?
CHAPTER X.
British Sherbro--The Bargroo River Expedition--Professional
Poisoners--An African Bogey--A Secret Society--A Strange Story--A
Struggle with Sharks--Startling News from the Gold Coast.
To the south of the peninsula of Sierra Leone lies the tract of
low-lying country called British Sherbro, which was acquired by treaty
with the natives in 1862, though Sherbro Island has been British for a
much longer period. It is intersected by numerous rivers such as the
Valtucker, Tittibul, Bargroo, Jong, Mongray, and Boom Kittam, which
with their numberless tributaries form a complete network over the
country.
The King of Sherbro was formerly one of the largest and most notorious
slave-dealers in this part of the world; and, on three different
occasions, the British naval squadron destroyed his town and slave
barracoons. Even to the present day, though domestic slavery is
nominally abolished, the inland traffic in slaves still flourishes in
this region.
The Sherbros, like the Timmanees, are utter savages, and it is to
these people that the world is largely indebted for the practices of
Obeah and professional poisoning. They, however, show more aptitude
for manufactures than the Timmanees, and weave a cloth of a beautiful
texture and curious pattern, from indigenous cotton dyed with vegetable
dyes. Some travellers have professed to discover some affinity between
this tribe and the Kaffirs of South Africa, but upon what they based
their assumption I have never been able to discover. There is no
similarity in language, and but very slight resemblance in customs;
in fact no greater than might be expected between the customs of the
races inhabiting the same continent, and both equally plunged in
barbarism. Their architecture, if hut-building may be so termed, is
entirely different; and they sometimes use the bow and arrow, while
it is the absence of that implement of war that has always specially
distinguished the Kaffirs from the negro tribes living to the north,
and the Hottentots and Bushmen to the south.
The Sherbros are a turbulent and restless people, and disturbances in
British Sherbro are of almost yearly occurrence. Beginning from 1848,
when Captain Monypenny, R.N. destroyed a stockaded fort in Sherbro
river, hardly a year has passed without an expedition of some kind
having been undertaken. The year 1875 was unusually prolific. In
October of that year some Mongray people plundered Mamaiah, a village
on the frontier, and kidnapped several British subjects. A gunboat,
with some troops and police, was accordingly sent up the Mongray
river, and scarcely had this expedition returned to Freetown when
news of another difficulty on the Bargroo river arrived. A party of
Mendis crossed the border about the middle of November and plundered
and destroyed thirteen villages in British territory, carrying off
most of the inhabitants as slaves. On receipt of this intelligence
Mr. Darnell Davis, the Civil Commandant of Sherbro, left Bonthe, the
headquarters of the local Government, accompanied by nineteen armed
policemen, and proceeded to Conconany, the scene of the outrages, to
endeavour to restore tranquillity. Hearing there that some of the
captives were at Paytaycoomar, a village about ten miles inland from
Conconany, he landed to proceed there, in company with a friendly chief
and about a hundred of his followers. On his way to Paytaycoomar Mr.
Davis and his party were attacked by a body of men lying in ambush,
and himself and several others wounded; but he nevertheless proceeded
and arrived before the village, which he found to be defended by three
strong stockades. The Mendis opened fire from their “war-fences,” and
the friendly chief and his followers at once took to flight, carrying
away with them the axes with which the Commandant had intended cutting
his way into the place. Nothing daunted, however, by this desertion,
he broke through the first and second gates of the stockades, ten
policemen, who were old soldiers, alone following him. Between the
second and third stockades they were met with a heavy fire that
killed four policemen almost at once, and wounded the Commandant
very severely; and the latter, seeing that it would be mere folly to
persevere longer, retired with the remnant of his men to Conconany;
being again attacked by an ambuscade on his way there, and wounded a
third time with several of his men.
In consequence of this a force consisting of a detachment of the First
West India Regiment and a body of armed police left Freetown for
Sherbro with Lieutenant-Governor Rowe; a number of stockaded towns were
shelled and burned, the leaders of the invading Mendis captured, and
order restored. The defences of some of these towns were, considering
the difficult nature of the country, formidable. Ordinarily they were
surrounded by triple stockades, 20 feet high, and formed of posts about
10 inches in diameter. A space some 20 feet broad intervened between
each stockade, nor were the entrances of these opposite each other. The
town of Tyama-Woro was further fortified by two encircling mud-walls,
15 feet high and 12 feet thick at the base, inside which were two broad
and deep ditches. In some of the towns machicoulis galleries had been
constructed over the gates, and the entrance further protected by
semicircular flanking bastions.
Expeditions such as these appear small affairs when compared with our
South African wars, but they are at least as worthy of recognition as
the numerous “Hill Tribe” wars of India, for which the troops employed
are invariably granted a medal. In West Africa the difficulties
attending such expeditions are very much greater than in India, and
there can be no comparison between the hardships experienced by both
officers and men. The country consists of dense forest, through which
the only roads are narrow paths, wide enough only for the passage of
men in single file, obstructed by fallen trees, swamps, and unbridged
streams, and where continual precautions have to be taken against
surprises and ambuscades. Everything has to be carried on the heads of
terror-stricken carriers, who bolt at the least alarm, and render the
difficulties of the transport service almost insurmountable. Supplies
are precarious, and of bad quality; while, in addition to all this, the
climate is the worst in the world, and the constitution of a European
does not for years recover from the injury caused to it by the exposure
incidental to such expeditions. Some wars, such as the Quiah war of
1861, are serious affairs; and it is difficult to understand upon what
principle of justice rewards should be granted for such services in one
part of the world and not in another. It would be a very simple matter
to establish a West African medal similar to the Indian one, the clasp
to which would show for what particular service it had been granted.
The professional poisoners of Sherbro, Rossu, and Timmanee, are
notorious: the practice of getting rid of any objectionable individual
by secret poisoning is only too prevalent throughout the whole of
West Africa, but usually it is carried out through the agency of
fetish men, whereas in this portion of the continent it is elevated to
the dignity of a profession on its own account. These poisoners, or
necromancers, since they pretend to compound spells by means of which
they attain their ends, are acquainted with various deadly vegetable
poisons entirely unknown to the European pharmacopœia, and many persons
yearly fall victims to them, whose deaths, as the medical men are
unable to recognise any of the symptoms attributable to known poisons,
are ascribed to other causes. They are also equally well acquainted
with the antidotes for their deadly drugs; and, when an individual
has reason to suspect that he has had poison administered to him, his
sole chance of recovery is to call in one of these practitioners, if
possible the one who has been paid to make away with him, and offer
him a bribe for a counter-charm, as these people like to call it. When
any vindictive savage has a grudge against a European, or against any
one else, all he has to do to obtain revenge is to go to one of these
poisoners, and, stating his wishes, pay a small sum of money, and the
victim is then doomed to certain death, sometimes sudden and sometimes
lingering, unless, in the latter case, he succeeds in discovering what
is going on and outbids his secret enemy. Old residents in Sierra
Leone and the Gambia know of several cases on record in which member
after member of a family has wasted away and died of an unknown and
inexplicable disease, and where the survivors have only been saved from
a like doom by calling in one of these diabolical wretches. If native
accounts may be believed, these poisoners are as well versed in their
destructive study as were their kindred spirits in the age of Catherine
de Medici; and, besides drugs which are deadly when placed in food or
drink and taken into the stomach, know and use others which scattered
about a room poison the atmosphere, or, sprinkled upon wearing apparel,
cause death by absorption through the skin, and perfumes, to inhale
which is fatal. The manner of compounding and preparing these poisons
is preserved with great secrecy and mystery, and transmitted from
father to son in certain families of hereditary poisoners; but the
natives popularly believe that there is a kind of college, situated in
an impenetrable forest somewhere near the Jeba river, at which would-be
professors of this art enter themselves as students, where they learn
their nefarious calling, and finally emerge with a degree as full-blown
murderers. In Sierra Leone proper, this practice, euphoniously called
witchcraft, or laying spells or charms, is forbidden by law, and is not
now very common.
Another custom peculiar to the three above mentioned tribes is that
of Egugu, which, however, is neither secret nor vindictive, and the
Egugu man himself might not inaptly be described as the personification
of the English “bogey” with which nurses terrify children. This
arch-impostor is supposed to have revealed to him, by unknown powers,
the name or appearance of every wife in the country who has been guilty
of infidelity; and he makes periodical visits to each town and village
for the purpose of exposing and punishing these frail fair ones, he and
his following being entertained and feasted on these occasions at the
expense of the inhabitants. When the Egugu man is approaching a village
his retainers go ahead and announce his presence by the beating of
drums, accompanied by wild howls and cries; and consternation at once
falls upon the entire feminine portion of the community, for, as they
are nearly all equally guilty, the only difference being that some
have already been detected by their husbands while others have not,
they all equally dread the threatening punishment and public exposure.
On such occasions, those fair creatures, who have hitherto been so
fortunate as to bear an unblemished reputation, generally find that
they have pressing business which requires their immediate presence in
the bush, and some thus contrive to escape the ordeal, though usually
each husband takes care that all his wives shall be present; while
those whose guilt has been already declared by the Egugu man, and
who have consequently already experienced the worst, alone prepare
themselves for the ceremony with a certain amount of indifference.
The Egugu man enters the town, or village, wrapped in a piece of
country cloth, which entirely covers the face and head, and which
covering he never removes except when alone with his immediate
associates; while curious persons of either sex are restrained from
pulling it aside, or endeavouring to obtain a glimpse of his face, by
the belief that to look upon his countenance is certain death. He then
traverses the village and enters every house in succession; while the
female occupants, anxious to propitiate their judge, lay before him
the most _recherché_ dishes of savage African cookery, viz., the palm
oil stew, the cassava cakes and the “stink-fish,” while to wash down
this regal banquet jars of palm wine and bottles of rum are provided.
The Egugu man is cunning enough to know that the innocent, if any,
will seem most unconcerned, and he consequently regards with suspicion
those women who appear most anxious to please him, and usually picks
out those who have treated him most hospitably, and with the greatest
respect, for exposure and punishment. He is commonly very successful in
his choice: it would be difficult in any case to pick out a guiltless
woman, and, even in the remote chance of his doing so, the woman’s
protestations would not be believed; while those who have forgotten the
fidelity due to their liege lords, imagining that everything is known
and about to be proclaimed, confess at once, so that they can give
their own version of the story. The Egugu man then administers a few
stripes to the culprits himself, and leaves them to the tender mercies
of their spouses and the jeers and sarcasms of those more fortunate
females who have gone through the ordeal in safety.
Should the village be pleasantly situated, and the people unusually
hospitable, this flimsy juggler will remain in it for several days,
examining the women in detail; and, when he has eaten up all the good
things, or when he thinks he has nearly exhausted his welcome, for
he is too wary to spoil his pleasant profession by overdoing it, he
moves off to another village and commences anew. As he is sometimes
accompanied by as many as one hundred followers, or disciples, all of
whom are fed and housed at the expense of the village, this absurd
custom must be rather a tax upon the natives; but no village is visited
more than once a year. It has always been a wonder to me that every
negro in these countries does not set up as an Egugu man, or, at all
events, become a follower of one, since it would be impossible to
conceive a mode of life more pleasing to the negro mind. He goes about
from village to village, fêted and honoured, living on the fat of the
land, with no work to do, plenty to drink, the luxury of beating women
and the satisfaction of being regarded with awe and wonder, all this
too for nothing but the trouble of a little humbug; and it is certain
that there would be an immediate rush of the male population for
similar appointments were it not that they are sufficiently credulous
to believe that there is really some sorcery or supernatural power at
the bottom of the business.
Among the Sherbros there exists a secret society, which consists of
various families, bound together by mysterious ceremonies for offensive
and defensive purposes, and other reasons which are unknown. If my
memory serves me rightly, this society is called the Society of Bonn,
and the families composing it meet at stated periods to celebrate
their union with infamous rites; and annually, at one such meeting,
a virgin is put to death, the victim being supplied by each family
in rotation. Each member of the society is bound by diabolical oaths
to preserve the secrets of their rites, and to slay any other member
whom he may suspect of revealing them; thus all that is known about
the fraternity has been gleaned from the reports of natives who do not
belong to it, and who cannot know much about it; though some do assert
that they have been hidden eye-witnesses of the annual human sacrifice.
That such a society does exist, and that its members do put a young
girl to death every year, is, however, well authenticated; and a French
trader residing in the Sherbro on one occasion almost surprised them in
the actual commission of the murder. I will give his story in his own
words: he said--
“M. A---- my principal, sent me from Sherbro island to some chiefs
on the mainland who were large customers of ours. I had six or seven
Krooboys with me, and was away a little more than a week. On the
last day, when I was coming towards the coast, I was delayed by one
of my boys getting into some little trouble at a village, and, about
nightfall, found myself at eleven or twelve miles from the sea. There
was a good path through the forest, so I determined to go on and get
back to the factory that night--I was in a hurry to return to a good
bed and something fit to eat.
“You have walked perhaps in the forest at night _mon ami_, and you know
the feeling of awe which the darkness, the silence, and the sombre
trees, with their long arms reaching towards you, awakes within one.
The night was dark, dark as a pit; not a sound was to be heard but
the rustling of our feet on the dead leaves, and the grey trunks of
the trees stood up all round in the forest like spectres. I was very
tired--I had been walking nearly all day, and we did not get along very
quickly; so that about nine o’clock we were still in the forest, and
neither the Krooboys nor myself were sure that we were in the right
path--we had passed several forks, and had taken the road that seemed
to lead towards the sea, but you know how these paths twist and wind
about.
“Suddenly, in the midst of the dead silence, a chorus of howls and
screams, the most horrible, the most blood-curdling, rose up in the
depths of the forest, and died away in a long, low, melancholy wail. I
was startled--not frightened--for I am not more superstitious than most
men; but the cries had been so sudden, and were so strange, that we all
stopped still. All was as silent as the tomb, and we were so quiet that
I could hear the breathing of the Krooboys. While we were standing with
our ears straining to hear, the sound came again louder and louder--it
seemed to be some little distance away in the direction in which we
were going. I told the boys to go on, and I followed them. Six, seven,
and eight times this long cry--the most despairing--, it made my blood
run cold, was repeated; and then we heard the noise of the beating of
drums. We knew then that it was only some natives observing a custom,
and that there must be a village near; so we walked on. Soon the drums
stopped, and the night was again as still as the grave.
“Suddenly, without any warning, we turned an acute corner in the path;
and I saw before me some few houses, and a crowd of people standing
together round something, in a clearing of the forest--they had with
them two or three little lamps. At the same moment that I turned the
corner and saw this, I heard a shriek, the most horrible--the shriek
of a woman in the agony which is mortal. My hair raised itself on my
head--my Krooboys stopped and muttered to themselves. I ask of them the
cause, and they tell me of some secret brotherhood of the people, who
sacrifice each year a woman. I draw my revolver: I cry to them--‘_En
avant--En avant_;’ and we all run fast to the crowd. Then, pst, pst,
out go all the lights; I hear the rustling of many feet; all again is
black darkness.
“We reach the square of the village: there is nothing--nobody to be
seen. Nobody? Ah! _Mon Dieu_, somebody. I nearly fall over some object
which strikes my feet. I look down to see what it may be, and I see
a corpse. Yes, a corpse of a young girl, _une pucelle_; still warm.
I look for the cause of death, and I find, horrible to speak of, on
the left breast a dreadful wound, a cavity--the flesh tom away. _Mon
ami_, the heart of that poor girl had been torn out. Ah! so young, such
beautiful limbs--It is the work of the accursed fraternity.”
“Well,” said I, when he had arrived at this point, “what did you do?”
“Do? What could I do? Nothing at all. There was not one person left in
the village--I searched each house: all empty. Could I go and hunt in
the dark forest for the murderers? No--I went on my way and arrived at
my factory.”
“I suppose you told the Commandant of Sherbro about this?” I inquired.
“Yes, I told him; but he said he could do nothing, and it was not
advisable to make trouble. It is many years ago now, and Chief Manin
had just signed a treaty with your Government. They did not wish to
have any more palaver.”
When I arrived at Sierra Leone in January 1881 everybody was talking
about an extraordinary instance of tenacity of life which had come
to light three or four days previously. It appeared that a European
madman, who, for safe keeping, had been confined in the Colonial
Hospital, escaped from custody one afternoon; and, being pursued,
jumped, about nightfall, into the sea from the harbour works. Some
boats put out after him, but as nothing was to be seen of him it was
concluded that he was drowned. About 9 p.m. on the same day, the
occupants of a boat returning from Cape Sierra Leone heard, as they
were passing King Tom Point, somebody groaning on the beach; they put
ashore, and found the escaped maniac lying on the rocks in a horrible
condition. During his swim from the harbour works to the spot in which
he was found, a distance of some half-a-mile, he had been pursued and
attacked by the sharks which swarm in the harbour, had lost an arm, and
been dreadfully lacerated about the shoulders and thighs. From his own
account they seemed to have kept up a running fight with him; and how
he contrived to reach the shore, and, in his mutilated condition, draw
himself up out of reach of his pursuers, was as great a mystery as was
his subsequent recovery from his injuries.
About 4·30 p.m. on January 28th, just before parade, we were surprised
by the unusual spectacle of two steamers coming round the cape
together; there was a general rush for telescopes, and we saw that one
of them was the outward-bound steamer “Cameroon,” which had only left
the harbour about half-an-hour previously, and the other the mail from
the Coast. This latter had the signal “Government Despatches” flying;
it was evident that something was wrong down on the Gold Coast, and
that it was of sufficient importance for the “Cameroon” to turn back.
Imagination was at once busy as to what was up: some said it was the
long-expected mutiny of the Houssa constabulary, others a revolt of the
Accra people on account of the imprisonment of their king, Tacki, by
Mr. Ussher, the late Governor, and a third party that the Awoonahs had
risen; but while we were still deliberating, and before the steamers
had dropped anchor in the harbour, the “fall in” sounded and we had to
go on parade.
About five, while the parade was still going on, a Colonial messenger
darted on to the parade ground, seized the commanding officer, and
thrust a voluminous despatch into his hand. The latter cast a hurried
eye over it, and instantly moved off with hasty strides towards a
hammock that was waiting for him outside; calling out to his second in
command that the parade was to be dismissed, but that no officers or
men were to leave barracks. We knew then that something serious was the
matter, and went and sat down by the fountain in front of the mess
to wait for the news. At about 6 p.m., when our patience was nearly
exhausted, an official appeared, panting and blowing up the hill. He
came towards us, and said, in gasps:
“Gentlemen--The fact is this, gentlemen. It’s simply this, gentlemen.
Bloody wars, gentlemen--Bloody wars.”
This was highly satisfactory, but did not enter much into detail, so
we applied for more information. We then learned that King Mensah of
Ashanti had sent the golden axe to the Lieutenant-Governor of the Gold
Coast colony at Cape Coast, to demand the surrender of a fugitive;
and, on the 24th, when the surrender was refused, had, through his
ambassadors, declared war against the British. We heard further that
the homeward-bound steamer was going direct to Madeira to telegraph
the news to England, and that troops were to go down by the S.S.
“Cameroon” next day. The Government of the Gold Coast had asked for
three hundred and fifty men, but, as the entire garrison of Sierra
Leone only consisted of four companies, that is a little over four
hundred men, the authorities had decided that it would not be wise, on
account of the Timmanees, to denude the Colony of troops to so great
an extent, and about two hundred were to be despatched with stores and
ammunition. Of course everybody wanted to be among the two hundred:
the news had spread among the men, and a tremendous cheering broke out
all over the barracks; they were delighted with the prospect of a brush
with the Ashantis, and the band volunteered _en masse_. By 7 p.m. it
was decided which companies were to go, and I found mine was one of the
lucky ones: as we were to embark at 3 p.m. next day there was plenty of
work to be done, while to make matters worse there was a dinner to be
given that very night, and the guests would have to be looked after and
entertained.
That night the excitement rose to boiling point: we who had been
selected to go were objects of envy to all the less fortunate people
who had to remain behind, and who went about with long and melancholy
faces bewailing their ill-fortune and cursing their luck. The guests
quoted Byron, talked of “sounds of revelry by night,” and drew
comparisons, entirely in our favour, between the ball at Brussels on
the eve of Waterloo and our dinner on the eve of departure for the new
Ashanti war. They shook hands with us time after time, their voices
thick with emotion; some almost shed tears as they suddenly awoke to
the fact of their great affection for us, and thought that they might
never see us again; while others, more sanguine, prophesied all kinds
of impossible honours as our share of the coming campaign. It was out
of the question to got away from these warm-hearted partisans, and it
must have been nearly daybreak before we got to bed.
At 2 p.m. next day, after such a morning of work as I am in no hurry
to experience again, the two companies paraded, and we marched down
the hill to the harbour, headed by the band. I never saw Freetown in
such a state of excitement; every road was crammed with men, women, and
children, shouting, cheering, laughing, and crying, and the crush was
so great that there was scarcely room for the column to march; but at
last all were safely got on board, and at 5 p.m. the “Cameroon” steamed
off direct for Cape Coast. We had on board forty-five tons of stores,
two 4-2/5-inch howitzers, and almost all the ammunition of the Colony,
the whole of which had been put on board in half-a-day.
CHAPTER XI.
Ashanti Politics since 1874--The Secession of Djuabin--Diplomatic
Mistakes--The Conquest of Djuabin--The Importation of Rifles--The
Attempt on Adansi--The Salt Scare--The Mission to Gaman and
Sefwhee--Dissensions in Coomassie--The War Party.
While the “Cameroon” is on the way to Cape Coast Castle a short
_résumé_ of Ashanti politics from the close of the war of 1874 may,
perhaps, be considered not out of place.
After the burning of Coomassie a bloodless revolution took place.
King Quoffi Calcalli, or, as the natives pronounce it, Karri-Karri,
was deposed, and his brother Osai Mensah reigned in his stead. The
dethroned monarch should, in accordance with Ashanti etiquette, have
committed suicide on being degraded from his position; he did not do
so, however, and was permitted to go into retirement in the country,
with a few followers.
About the same time, Asafu Agai, King of Djuabin, the chief feudatory
of the Ashanti kingdom, seceded, taking with him the chiefs of Assuri,
Affidguassi, and Insula, and formed the independent kingdom of Djuabin.
It was foreseen that the Ashantis, a proud and haughty race, would
not submit tamely to the establishment of a rival power on their very
border, especially when that rival had so recently been subject to
them; and, towards the end of 1874, when matters began to assume a
threatening aspect between the Ashantis and the Djuabins, Captain C. C.
Lees was despatched to Coomassie by the Government of the Gold Coast
Colony to preserve peace. Their recent defeat by the British was so
fresh in their memory that the Ashantis were amenable to reason, and
Captain Lees succeeded in persuading both Osai Mensah and Asafu Agai to
swear to refrain from hostilities.
From that moment the Colonial Government withdrew from all active
interference in the affairs of the tribes living beyond the boundaries
of the Colony; and, although for the next four or five years the
Ashantis left no stone unturned to regain their former position and
undo the work done by Sir Garnet Wolseley, the Colonial Government
merely looked on as passive spectators and allowed them to do it.
The policy of the Government of the Gold Coast appears to have been at
this time one of strict non-intervention, but whether dictated by the
Colonial Office or not, I cannot say. In any case it was diametrically
opposed to the policy which had inaugurated the Ashanti war, and was
most detrimental to British interests and influence. Having committed
ourselves to the war of 1873-4, it was impossible to withdraw and
say we would not interfere further. The chief military power of that
portion of Africa had received a severe blow; the Ashanti kingdom
had almost fallen to pieces; and, as the authors of the shock, we
were responsible for the consequences. What would these consequences
be? Either Ashanti would be split up into a number of insignificant
independent chieftainships or regain its ascendancy, or Djuabin would
assume the place lately held by Ashanti. It was evident that one of
these three things would happen if we decided to take no part in
occurrences beyond our frontier.
But which was the consummation that the wire-pullers at the Colonial
Office desired? Surely not the first; for the breaking-up of Ashanti
into two or three tribes, who would be independent of each other,
would lead to constant petty wars, the closing of the roads, and the
paralysation of commerce. Surely not the second; for, if Ashanti
regained her ascendancy, the lives and treasure expended in the war of
1873-4 would be as so much waste. Surely not the third; for, if Djuabin
became the dominant military power, what guarantee had we that she
would not be equally, perhaps more, aggressive than Ashanti had been;
and with what could we keep her in check?
Our policy at this time should clearly have been to play off Djuabin
against Ashanti, to use the one to keep the other in check, just as
might be required; if necessary, to support the one or the other by
force of arms, so that the balance of power, which had happily taken
place, should not be disturbed. Nothing could have been easier than to
do this. If Ashanti should make war upon the Colony we could employ
Djuabin to threaten Coomassie; and if the latter should menace our
possessions we could let loose the Ashantis upon the Djuabin capital.
As for preserving peace between the two rivals, our position on the
sea-board within easy striking distance of each was admirable, and
the two nations were so nearly equal in power and resources that an
intimation from the Colonial Government to either of them which might
seem disposed to provoke hostilities, that any act of aggression would
be considered a declaration of war against England, would effectually
have prevented any outbreak. This grand opportunity was unfortunately
neglected, and the consequences have still to be suffered.
After Captain Lees’s mission to Coomassie and Djuabin the subtle
Ashantis remained quiet until about July 1875, satisfying themselves
with storing up supplies of salt, powder, and lead, and re-organizing
their army, to the chief command of which Awooah, the brother of the
late general, Amanquatia, succeeded. King Mensah also placed on record
how keenly he felt the injustice of the British in not calling upon the
king of Djuabin to pay a fair proportion of the war indemnity which had
been inflicted on the entire kingdom by Sir Garnet Wolseley, the whole
of which Ashanti, though reduced to half her former area, had now to
pay.
In July, King Mensah addressed a letter to the European merchants of
Cape Coast Castle, complaining of the action of the king of Djuabin,
that he was kidnapping Ashantis living on the Djuabin frontier, and
closing the roads to trade. This letter was duly forwarded to the
Government, but only elicited from the Governor the reply “that he
would act with reference to the affairs of the interior as seemed to
him advisable.”
There can be no doubt but that the head of the king of Djuabin was
turned by his sudden accession to power; he sent insulting messages to
Mensah, invited the tribes within the protectorate to come and share
the spoils of Coomassie with him; and by the middle of August 1875 the
excitement on each side had become so intense that no mere negotiation
or mediation could have averted war, whatever it might have effected if
it had been employed at an earlier period.
Matters were further complicated by the mission to Coomassie of a
Monsieur Bonnat, who was desirous of opening trade with Salagha, a
large and populous Mohammedan town, said to be eight days’ journey to
the north-east of Coomassie. M. Bonnat visited the Ashanti capital in
company with Prince Ansah, the uncle of the king, and appears to have
mixed himself up a great deal with native politics. From Coomassie he
went to Djuabin, where he very naturally was regarded with suspicion,
on account of the circumstances under which he had visited Coomassie.
M. Bonnat was accompanied by a number of Ashantis as carriers and
servants, and some sixty of these were murdered by the Djuabins. In
extenuation of this outrage King Asafu Agai afterwards said the murder
was ordered by the Keratchi fetish, which is the great fetish of
Djuabin and of several other tribes of the interior.
War was now inevitable, but Osai Mensah was so afraid that Great
Britain would interpose that he still delayed. Towards the end of
September a fresh _casus belli_ occurred. The inhabitants of five
villages on the borders of Djuabin notified to King Mensah their desire
to secede from the kingdom of Djuabin and to be incorporated with that
of Ashanti. Mensah accordingly sent some of his officers to these
villages, where they were attacked by the Djuabins. In the skirmish
which ensued the Djuabins were forced to retire, and the inhabitants of
the five villages migrated into Ashanti.
When the news of this affair reached Cape Coast Castle the Government
at last awoke to the fact that something ought to be done. They
accordingly despatched an army surgeon, who was temporarily in their
employ, with instructions, first, to proceed to Eastern Akim, and warn
the king of that territory, who had been tampered with by the Djuabins,
that he was not to take part in the probable hostilities; and,
secondly, to proceed from Akim to Djuabin and Coomassie, and forbid the
war, reminding the two kings of the oaths they had sworn to Captain
Lees.
This officer left Accra on October 23rd, 1875, but his mission had been
kept so little secret that his intended departure had been known for
some time; and, a week before he left Accra, both Djuabin and Ashanti
messengers had started from Cape Coast Castle to carry the intelligence
to their respective masters, and to inform them that if they wanted
to fight they must do so at once, “for the white man was coming to
palaver.”
The Colonial envoy reached Kibbie in Eastern Akim on October 29th, and
next day Djuabin messengers reached him with the intelligence that the
Ashantis had invaded their country in two divisions, one of which was
encamped within a few miles of the capital. On October 31st the town
of Djuabin was attacked by the Ashantis, the conflict raged during the
next two days, and on November 3rd the Djuabins were put to flight in
every direction.
The envoy at once proceeded to Djuabin, which town he found in the
hands of the Ashantis. Foreseeing that the prestige of this victory
would do much to restore Ashanti to her former position, and cancel
the beneficial results of the war of 1873-4, he wrote to the Governor
at Cape Coast Castle recommending that Djuabin should be occupied by
a British force. This proposal was not entertained. Indeed, it would
have been injudicious in the extreme, with the handful of troops at
the disposal of the Government, to endeavour to snatch the fruits of
victory from a warlike people in their hour of triumph. Action of this
kind should have been taken earlier, but the opportunity had been
allowed to pass, and it was now too late.
The Djuabins, being short of munitions of war, could make but little
headway against their opponents. The importation of arms and gunpowder
was then prohibited on the Gold Coast, which embargo, while it did
not affect the Ashantis, who could obtain what they required through
the French port of Assinee, entirely prevented the Djuabins from
replenishing their stock. A large supply of powder was, however,
successfully smuggled up the Volta river by Djuabin agents and sent
into Eastern Akim. A force of Constabulary was stationed there at the
time, partly to disarm the fugitive Djuabins and prevent the Ashantis
pursuing them into the protectorate, and partly to prevent the Akims
aiding the Djuabins. The officer in command of this force somehow got
wind of the smuggled powder. To an ordinary mind it would have appeared
that, as the Djuabins were, in a measure, fighting our battles, this
would have been a good opportunity for a display of that official
blindness which is so frequently conspicuous at other times. The
Constabulary officer thought otherwise; the powder was intercepted on
the Djuabin frontier; and the Djuabins, being unable to continue the
struggle, flocked by thousands into the protectorate. The Ashantis knew
better than to follow the fugitives into our territory, and satisfied
themselves with establishing their authority in Djuabin more firmly
than ever. Some months later the Government discovered that Asafu
Agai was meditating an attempt for the recovery of his throne; he was
arrested with a promptness that is seldom displayed on the Gold Coast,
and transported to Lagos.
The results of the victorious campaign were soon discernible in the
altered tone of Osai Mensah. The surgeon who had proceeded to Djuabin
went thence to Coomassie, where he was treated with but scant courtesy
and could effect nothing. Next by his behaviour, and the threatening
attitude of his people to the officer sent to Coomassie for the
instalment of the war indemnity then due, he, as I have related in
Chapter III., so intimidated the Colonial Government that the question
of the payment of that indemnity was allowed to drop, and has never
since been revived. Thus in less than two years from the burning of
Coomassie the Ashanti diplomacy had met with such success that Mensah
had recovered the whole of the Djuabin territory, repudiated the
payment of the war indemnity, re-established the prestige and power
of the Ashanti name, and outwitted the Colonial Government upon every
point.
In 1876 and 1877 the Ashantis occupied themselves with the internal
administration of their newly-acquired territory, and in the purchase
of breech-loading rifles, which they obtained principally through
Assinee, though a considerable number were smuggled, viâ Danoe, the
Quittah lagoon, and the Volta river, into Djuabin.
In 1878 the Colonial Government at last grasped the fact that the
interdiction on the importation of arms and gunpowder only crippled the
revenue of the Colony and the power of the protected tribes, without
materially affecting those for whom it was specially designed, and
consequently withdrew it. No sooner was the prohibition at an end than
the Ashantis, with an absence of disguise that was either the height of
impudence or the most consummate diplomacy, imported Snider rifles at
Cape Coast itself. On one occasion, towards the end of December 1878,
a batch of some three hundred arrived, consigned to Prince Ansah at
Cape Coast, and were duly received by Ashanti carriers who had been
waiting for them. As they were being transported to Prahou, the Fantis
of Dunquah, who seemed to be of opinion that it was not politic to
allow the Ashantis to possess such weapons, intercepted the convoy and
brought back the rifles to the District-Commissioner at Cape Coast.
To their surprise they were only reprimanded for their pains, and the
Ashantis, protected by an escort, were conducted with their purchases
in safety to Prahou.
Being now the happy possessors of a considerable number of
breech-loaders, the Ashantis conceived the plan of forming a corps
of Houssas, who would instruct the Ashanti army in the use of the
new weapon. To induce trained men of this race to desert from the
Gold Coast Constabulary, Mensah offered pay at double the rate paid
by the Colonial Government, free rations, and some local privileges.
The percentage of desertions from the Constabulary, always alarmingly
high, at once increased: and these deserters assumed the new _rôle_ of
musketry instructors to the Ashanti army. As they knew almost nothing
themselves, they could not impart much information to their pupils. A
German, who had been wandering about the interior for some time, made
himself useful in the formation of this _corps d’élite_, and brought
down Houssas from Salagha for the King.
There was nothing new in this endeavour to induce Houssas in British
pay to betray their trust. About September 1875, when M. Bonnat visited
Djuabin, he found some of the men of the Gold Coast Constabulary
armed, and dressed in the uniform of the force, in the service of
the King of that territory, and Asafu Agai had endeavoured by means
of them to prevent M. Bonnat returning to Coomassie. The causes that
led to the numerous desertions were not difficult to find. The Houssa
Constabulary was and is a purely mercenary body, ready to sell their
services to the highest bidder. In the days when Capt., now Sir John,
Glover, R.N., organised the nucleus of this force at Lagos, a man
enlisted for life service; he looked upon the Government henceforward
as a paternal power, which he would serve as long as his health and
strength admitted, and which, when he became old, would grant him an
annuity or gratuity on retirement. They were satisfied with this state
of things and were loyal to the backbone. In 1876, when the Houssa
Constabulary was being reorganized, by a most short-sighted policy
the term of enlistment was limited to three years. Now short service,
however excellent it may be with Europeans and in countries where
it is desirable to form rapidly a large reserve, is undoubtedly a
mistake with semi-civilized or barbarous peoples. The Houssas now saw
themselves liable to be cast adrift after three years’ service; their
engagement was no longer a life engagement, there was no gratuity or
annuity to be earned by long and faithful service; and so, if a man
had an opportunity of bettering his condition, there was nothing to
be lost by his at once taking advantage of it. At the termination of
his three years he would be discharged without any pension; why then
should he not desert and accept the higher rate of pay offered by King
Mensah? If the latter did not require his services longer than the
Colonial Government would have done, he would still be a gainer; and
the probability was that he would be retained for life. Being bound by
no consideration for their oath of fealty, they argued in this way, and
deserted.
In the spring of 1879, the Ashantis, having perfected their military
arrangements, began to look about for some further accession of
territory. At this time, a Mr. Huydekuper, one of those semi-educated
and unscrupulous negroes with which the English system of Mission
Schools has afflicted the Gold Coast Colony, was at Coomassie. He had
been, I believe, a clerk in a Government office, and was in high favour
with, and a confidential adviser of, King Mensah. This man, using
his knowledge of official forms, drew up fictitious despatches, and,
accompanied by Mr. Nielson (the German who had rendered himself useful
in the formation of the Ashanti corps of Houssas), and a retinue of
court-criers and officials from the Ashanti court, proceeded to Gaman,
a kingdom which lies to the north-west of Ashanti, on a diplomatic
mission. This mission was arranged under the superintendence of Prince
Ansah, and its object was nothing less than to inform the king of
Gaman, in the name of the Governor of the Gold Coast Colony, “that
the Queen of England had given the whole country from Kerinkando,
near Assinee, to Dahomey, to the king of Ashanti, and that the king
of Gaman was to swear to be subject to the king of Ashanti.” Before
reaching Buntuku, the capital of Gaman, Mr. Nielson died of fever, and
the mainspring of the mission, so to speak, was lost. Nevertheless
Mr. Huydekuper proceeded and delivered his message, producing his
manufactured despatches in support of his statement. He stated that the
Queen of England had given Ashanti dominion over all inland tribes,
and that he was ordered to administer to the king of Gaman an oath of
allegiance to King Mensah.
This intelligence, coming, as the Gamans at first believed, from a
fully-accredited ambassador of the Government, created the greatest
consternation among that section of the tribe which was hostile to
the Ashantis. The news spread like wild-fire to the Safwhees, a tribe
inhabiting the country to the west of Ashanti and to the south of
Gaman, and from them to the Denkeras. But for the death of Mr. Nielson
it is impossible to say what authority the Ashantis would not have
succeeded in gaining over these tribes.
While this little comedy was being enacted in the north, the Ashantis
endeavoured to coerce the people of Adansi, which kingdom was formerly
the smallest feudatory state of Ashanti, into returning to their old
allegiance. A portion of the Adansis were anxious to do this, but
the king, not being by any means desirous of resigning his late-won
independence, sent messengers to the Colonial Government at Accra.
Fortunately for the maintenance of British authority on the Gold Coast,
Capt. C. C. Lees, the officer who had succeeded in averting hostilities
between Ashanti and Djuabin in 1874, was administering the Government
of the Colony. Being the exponent of the true and only effective policy
in West Africa, he took up the threads of diplomacy where they had
been dropped by the non-intervening Governor in 1875, and despatched
the acting Colonial Secretary to Adansi with full powers. The mission
was entirely successful, and the Ashantis returned to Coomassie
baffled for once. So wedded, however, were the Colonial Office to their
policy of non-intervention, that, although this was the first success
after several years of diplomatic failures, they found fault with the
Acting-Governor for what he had done. Sir Michael Hicks-Beach in his
despatch said--“the action which you took was of a character which
might possibly have placed the Local Government, and ultimately the
Imperial Government, in some embarrassment, should the Ashantis decline
to comply with the demands made upon them[1] ... Adansi is not within
the protectorate, and the question of requiring the observance of the
third article of the Treaty of Fommanagh[2] is one of external policy,
on which the Government of the Gold Coast should refrain, unless in
case of urgent necessity, from definite action until Her Majesty’s
Government had decided whether the action proposed was proper and
opportune, having regard to the general interests of the empire. I have
to request that in future you will bear this caution in mind, and that
you will take no further steps in the matter now under consideration
without the previous sanction of Her Majesty’s Government.”
Fortunately, before the receipt of this letter, Capt. Lees had taken
further energetic action, which, had it been delayed until permission
had been obtained from England, would have been too late.
Immediately after this success on the part of the Government, Ashantis
appeared simultaneously at all the ports on the Gold Coast, and
purchased salt in immense quantities. Those who were best qualified to
judge of native questions considered that this was one of the worst
signs of the times. No salt is produced in the interior of this portion
of Africa, and in some parts of the inland plateaus it is worth almost
its weight in gold; being a necessary of life it must be had, and large
quantities are exported to the Gold Coast from Europe. Ordinarily, in
peaceable times, the Ashantis buy it as they require it, individually;
when, therefore, there seemed to be a sudden national movement for the
purchase of that commodity, it appeared as if the Ashantis feared that
the supply was about to be cut off, and were storing it up against
that contingency. As the supply could only be cut off by the Colonial
sea-board being closed against them, this action on their part seemed
to show that they premeditated coming into collision with the coast
tribes, that is, ultimately with the British; and when their late
purchases of arms and manœuvre in the north were called to mind this
became still more probable. In 1881 it transpired that an invasion of
Adansi was under consideration at this time, and was only postponed on
account of the Colonial mission to Gaman.
While all this was going on, in April 1879 a mixed embassy of Gamans
and Sefwhees arrived at Cape Coast. These envoys had been sent by
the kings of their respective states to ascertain what truth lay
in the statements which had been made by Mr. Huydekuper. As soon
as they learned that that individual was an impostor, the Gaman
ambassadors stated that their king had made him a prisoner; while
the representatives of both tribes asserted that their countrymen
were unanimous in desiring to maintain their independence, and that
both peoples alike bore a deadly hatred to everything appertaining to
Ashanti. They asked that an officer might return to Gaman with them, as
otherwise they might not be believed in what they had to say about Mr.
Huydekuper; and the Government, following up its more recent and more
enlightened policy, acquiesced.
Mr. John Smith was the officer selected by the Colonial Government
to proceed to Gaman. Of that country nothing was then known beyond
the fact that it had been engaged in several wars with Ashanti in the
last decade of the eighteenth century. Sir John Dalrymple Hay, indeed,
in his “Ashanti and the Gold Coast,” speaks (pp. 28 and 29) of “the
plains of Massa,” “the Gaman cavalry,” and “the Mahometan soldiery of
Gaman”; and that people was popularly believed to be an offshoot of the
Houssa tribes and to possess Houssa characteristics. It was reserved
for Mr. Smith to explode all these theories, and to make it known that
the Gaman territory was covered with forest, like that of Ashanti, and
that the people were fetish-worshippers, differing in no important
particulars from the tribes in their neighbourhood.
Mr. Smith left Cape Coast on May 15th, 1879, and reached Jooquah, the
seat of Quasi Kaye, king of Denkera, on the 16th. He left Jooquah
on the 18th, with the king’s son, an ocrah, and a sword-bearer, and
arrived at Becquai, the first Sefwhee town of importance, on June
6th. He remained at Becquai two days, and reached Yorso, the capital
of Sefwhee, on June 10th. Here the Governor’s message, to the effect
that Mr. Huydekuper’s statements were false, was delivered, after Mr.
Smith had been detained twelve days waiting for the chiefs to assemble.
In the course of conversation the king told him that the events of
1874 had decided him and his chiefs to give up their friendship with
the Ashantis and to ally themselves with the British; but that when
Mr. Huydekuper’s message to King Ajiman of Gaman became current his
two principal chiefs had wished to return to their former friendly
relations with Ashanti. The king wished to take an oath of allegiance
to the British Government, but this was declined.
On June 21st Mr. Smith left Yorso, and, travelling through incessant
rain and by flooded and almost impassable bush-paths, reached the
village of Appemanim, about twelve miles from Buntuku, the capital of
Gaman, on July 21st. Here a messenger from Buntuku met him, desiring
him to wait until the king had prepared for his reception. On the 24th,
having received no further information, he started for the capital, and
met on the road a messenger from the king requesting him to remain a
few days longer at Appemanin, as the king was not quite ready. He took
no notice of this message, and, continuing on his way, reached Buntuku
the same day.
King Ajiman promised to summon his chiefs and hold a meeting within two
days, but, what with one excuse and another, eight days elapsed before
any meeting was convened, and then it was held so late in the afternoon
that, before the chiefs had gone through the preliminary hand-shaking
ceremonies, the rain came down in torrents and dispersed them. While
thus delayed, however, Mr. Smith acquired the following information:--
1. That Mr. Huydekuper had left Buntuku immediately after the Gaman
messengers had started for Cape Coast, and was not, nor had been at any
time, a prisoner.
2. That the messengers sent to Cape Coast did not represent the entire
Gaman nation, as they had stated, but merely King Ajiman, Princess
Akosuah Ayansuah, the chief of Saiquah and chief Quabina Fofea of
Tackiman; and that the majority of the chiefs had declined to send
messengers, as they did not wish to break with Ashanti.
3. That the Gaman chiefs were dissatisfied with King Ajiman, and wished
to depose him and elect his half-brother Prince Korkobo to the stool.
4. That Prince Korkobo, who was strongly in favour of an Ashanti
alliance, was then at Banna, in Ashanti, with Mr. Huydekuper; and had
but recently plundered and burned some villages belonging to King
Ajiman.
Mr. Smith found in Buntuku an Ashanti captain, Opoku by name, who,
having come to demand the surrender of chief Quabina Fofea of Tackiman,
was living on the most friendly terms with the chiefs of the Korkobo
faction, and domineering over King Ajiman himself. From this it will
be seen how little reliance can be placed upon the statements of West
African ambassadors.
King Ajiman informed Mr. Smith that the chiefs would assemble on
August 7th, but, on proceeding to the place of meeting on the appointed
day, the latter found only the king himself there with the chiefs of
Tackiman and Saiquah, and one other. The king said the other chiefs
would appear shortly, and Mr. Smith waited. After waiting two hours he
was told that one chief was drunk and could not come, that another had
a sore leg which incapacitated him from attending, and that a third was
making fetish. He left the place of meeting, telling the king that if
he were again trifled with he would at once return to the coast.
Finally, on August 8th, a palaver was held and the Governor’s message
delivered to the assembled chiefs. No enthusiasm of any kind was
displayed. The king promised to hand over Mr. Huydekuper to Mr. Smith
in thirteen days, and, in answer to a question from that gentleman,
said publicly that he had full confidence in the fidelity of his chiefs.
Two days after this meeting King Ajiman paid Mr. Smith a private visit,
during which he said that he had told a falsehood when he had affirmed
that he had confidence in the fidelity of his chiefs, and endeavoured
to excuse it by saying that he dared not put them to shame at a public
meeting. He added that all his chiefs, with the exception of one, were
against him, and begged Mr. Smith to hold another meeting and compel
them to take an oath of allegiance to him.
On August 15th the meeting was held. The chiefs said that they had
many grievances against their king; among others, that he had received
several chiefs into the Gaman alliance without consulting them,
and that he had received from such chiefs “alliance money” without
apportioning a share to them, as was customary. On being asked to take
an oath of allegiance to Ajiman, they replied that they would consider
about it, and let Mr. Smith know as soon as possible.
On August 21st the chiefs re-assembled. As this was the day on which
the king had promised to hand over Mr. Huydekuper Mr. Smith asked for
him. The king replied that that individual was not in the town, but
that he would send again for him. Mr. Smith then told him that he need
not try to keep up the deception any longer, since he had known, from
the day of his arrival in Buntuku, that Mr. Huydekuper had never been a
prisoner, and that it was not now in the king’s power to make him one.
The chiefs declared that they could not come to any decision about the
oath of allegiance, because one of their number was absent.
On the 23rd another palaver was held at which the chiefs openly
declared that King Ajiman was their enemy, and refused to take any oath
of allegiance to him. Mr. Smith returned to his house, and in a few
minutes the king followed him. He declared that he would not remain in
Buntuku after Mr. Smith had left, and begged to be allowed to accompany
him to the coast for protection; however, after some trouble, Mr. Smith
succeeded in persuading him to remain and assert his position.
On August 24th Mr. Smith left Buntuku for Dadiasu, a village some
twenty miles from the capital, and was accompanied to that place
by the king, one chief, one captain, and the chiefs of Saiquah and
Tackiman--in fact all the king’s adherents. On the 31st, messengers
reached Mr. Smith at Awhetiaso, forty-five miles from Buntuku,
imploring him, in the name of the king, to return, as Prince Korkobo
had entered Buntuku the day after he had left, and was now trying to
oust the king from the throne, or rather from the stool. Mr. Smith
declined to interfere and proceeded on his journey to the coast.
This mission, though entirely unsuccessful in its aim, clearly
established the fact that, in the event of hostilities with Ashanti,
the Government could not rely upon any assistance from the Gamans.
The Sefwhees, it is true, were more of one mind in the matter, yet it
seemed almost certain, considering their close connection with, and
proximity to, Gaman, that the inaction of the one would paralyse all
movement on the part of the other.
In the latter part of the year 1879 and in 1880 Ashanti was convulsed
by internal dissensions. King Mensah was, and is, an unpopular monarch.
He is much more tyrannical and bloodthirsty than was his predecessor,
and, in defiance of the terms of the treaty of 1874, the number of
human sacrifices has largely increased during his reign. The sorest
point of all, however, with his subjects was that he despoiled them of
their gold on the shallowest pretexts, and imposed exorbitant fines
for the most trivial offences. People began to talk of the good old
times when Quoffi Calcalli was king, and that wily ex-monarch, who had
outlived the contempt with which he had at first been regarded for
outraging Ashanti prejudices by continuing to live when disgraced,
commenced to intrigue with the people of Kokofuah, the most thickly
populated district in Ashanti, and the one which supplies the largest
contingent for the army. In the meantime Mensah was not idle. He turned
his Houssa corps into a body-guard, and ensured its fidelity by gifts
and promises of future favour; he gathered round him his ocrahs and
retainers, and with this force, armed principally with breech-loading
rifles, he easily managed to stifle disaffection and maintain his
position.
There was yet another cause of dissension in Coomassie. Not a few of
the chiefs, at the head of whom was Opokoo, chief of Becquai, and
Awooah, chief of Bantami and general of the Ashanti army, were anxious
to declare war against Adansi. They had re-conquered Djuabin, their
chief feudatory, and had nothing to fear on that side. On their western
or north-western border too there was now nothing to fear, for although
King Ajiman of Gaman had contrived to regain a portion of his kingdom,
and had fought several undecisive skirmishes with the Korkobo faction,
still the latter was quite powerful enough to neutralise any hostile
movement on the part of the former against Ashanti. Further, these
chiefs knew that they could drive the handful of Adansis across the
Prah without any trouble, and they considered that to do this would
wipe out the disgrace of the defeats of 1874.
In fact the only thing which at this time prevented the actual invasion
of Adansi was the belief held by King Mensah and his chiefs that any
act of aggression against Adansi would be equivalent to war with Great
Britain; and they were led to this belief by the action taken by Capt.
Lees in the spring of 1879, and with which the then Secretary of State
for the Colonies had found fault. Notwithstanding this belief, the war
party in Coomassie were desirous of invading Adansi, and were quite
willing to take the risk of another war with England. Opposed to the
war party were the king, the queen-mother, and the court party. Mensah
remembered that he owed his present position to the downfall of Quoffi
Calcalli, who had lost the throne in his conflict with the British;
and, being advised by Prince Ansah at Cape Coast, he knew perfectly
well that should hostilities break out between Ashanti and Great
Britain his own ruin would be the result.
Although Mensah was not prepared to face the Colonial Government in the
field, yet he was as desirous as any of his chiefs to recover Adansi,
which would do so much to re-establish Ashanti in her former position
of supremacy, and so he pursued the traditional policy of the country.
The new Governor of the Gold Coast Colony, Mr. Ussher, sent presents
to the king on taking up his appointment, and the latter seized the
opportunity to send messengers down to Accra, nominally to thank
Governor. Ussher for his presents, but secretly to ascertain the views
and position of the Government with regard to Adansi. These messengers
were duly received and dismissed by the Governor and returned to Cape
Coast, where they remained, collecting information and watching events
on the coast, explaining their delay in returning to their own country
by a number of frivolous excuses.
It appears that about this time Mensah also sent a second mission to
Gaman, for in October or November, 1880, Gaman messengers came to the
Lieutenant-Governor, Mr. Griffith, who had administered the Government
since the death of Mr. Ussher, at Accra, saying that the King of
Ashanti had sent a message to the Ajiman section of the Gamans to the
effect that he, Mensah, had paid a sum of money to the Queen of England
in order that the Gaman country should be placed under his rule, and
that, the Queen having consented to it, the Gamans were now his people.
While all this was going on, the war party in Coomassie had fast been
gaining the upper hand. The bellicose chiefs spoke of Quoffi Calcalli
as a man who, whatever might have been his other shortcomings, was,
at all events, not afraid of the white men, and recommenced their
intrigues with that individual. Matters became so serious that, in
December 1880, Mr. Buhl, the Secretary of the Basle Mission Society,
reported to the Lieutenant-Governor that there were rumours in Ashanti
that the country was going to war; and, in the same month, Chief Taboo
of Adansi informed the District Commissioner at Cape Coast that Chief
Opokoo of Becquai had publicly sworn before the king at Coomassie that
he would force Adansi to become again subject to Ashanti. Confusion
began to reign in Coomassie, and the struggle for supremacy between
the court and the war party was fast approaching a crisis, when the
events which led to the sending of the golden axe to Cape Coast in
January 1881 occurred.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Demands that they should return to their own country.
[2] The Treaty of Fommanagh was the one signed by Sir Garnet Wolseley
after the burning of Coomassie. The third article provided for the
independence of Adansi.
CHAPTER XII.
Cape Coast--The Panic--The Golden Axe--Preparations for
Defence--Ansah--A divided Command--A second message from the
King--Native Levies--Ordered to Anamaboe.
At 2 p.m. on February 2nd the “Cameroon” dropped anchor off Cape Coast
Castle, and the whole reinforcement was landed in safety through the
surf by 4 p.m.
The panic reigning on this portion of the Gold Coast would have been
amusing had it not been so disgraceful. Seven thousand men had been
asked for from England, though the last war had been brought to a
successful termination with two West India regiments and two European
battalions, for practically the 23rd Regiment took no part in the
operations. The walls of Elmina Castle, a fortress impregnable at any
time by savages, had been heightened with sand-bags, as though regular
siege approaches were anticipated; and a few days before our arrival
the advisability of abandoning that post, together with Fort St. Jago,
and withdrawing the garrison of Houssa Constabulary to Cape Coast, had
been seriously entertained. One hundred and fifteen Houssas were at
Prahsu and forty at Mansu, but no attempt was to be made to arrest the
advance of the enemy by occupying either of these places in force and
raising field-works; and on February 3rd it was decided that the whole
available force of the Colony should be employed in the defence of the
forts of Anamaboe, Cape Coast, Elmina, and Axim. In other words, the
Ashantis were to be allowed to ravage the whole country from the Prah
to the sea, and the natives were to receive no protection whatever;
while the garrisons were to be shut up in inglorious safety within
stone walls. A high Colonial official said to me:--
“Oh! we’re so glad you fellows have come. There has been no safe place
to go to at all, and hardly a man-of-war about to get on board of.”
People seemed to imagine that the Ashanti army had been supplied by
some enterprising contractor with seven-leagued boots, and could move
in one spring from the northern border of Adansi to the sea-board
without our receiving any warning, or information concerning their
progress, from the inhabitants of the country. The Lieutenant-Governor,
with his principal officers, had taken refuge in the Castle, and,
although the ambassadors with the axe had only left Cape Coast Castle
on their return journey to Coomassie on January 26th, a scare had taken
place on the night of February 1st, when everybody must have been aware
that the messengers had not had time to reach their capital. Some
intelligent negro alarmed the town in the dead of night by declaring
that he had seen the advancing Ashantis on the Prah road, about three
miles from the Castle. Upon this, the garrison was got under arms, a
patrol sent out, and all the lights in the Castle extinguished. The
object of this last strategic movement is difficult of discovery,
unless it was done in the hope that the Ashantis might not see the
Castle in the dark, and so pass on and go elsewhere.
Europeans professed to feel unsafe even in the forts, when they must
have known from past events, such as the defence of Anamaboe Fort by a
garrison of some thirty-nine men against an entire Ashanti army, that
the Ashantis could never venture seriously to attack them. In fact the
Ashanti is only dangerous in the bush, and when once he comes into
the open, or ventures to attack fortified posts, he is of but little
importance. Had an invasion really been taking place, thousands of
people from the bush villages would have been flocking into Cape Coast
for refuge; but that town remained in its usual stagnant condition, and
the natives declared that no advance of the enemy was imminent.
What had really been said and done by the ambassadors was, moreover,
not very clear. It appeared that on January 18th a refugee from
Coomassie, who had arrived at Cape Coast a day or two previously, had
presented himself at Elmina Castle to claim protection. He stated that
he was an Ashanti prince, named Awoosoo, and that, having incurred King
Mensah’s displeasure, he had sought safety in flight. On January 19th a
messenger from the king, with the golden axe and accompanied by three
court-criers, demanded an audience of the Lieutenant-Governor. This
messenger was a son of the late Ashanti chief, Amanquah Roomah, and he
brought with him to the audience Enguie and Busumburu, the two Ashanti
messengers who had been sent to thank Governor Ussher for his presents,
and who had since been living in Cape Coast collecting information. The
former of these two had signed the Treaty of Fommanah with Sir Garnet
Wolseley, and the latter was an Ashanti captain.
After the usual compliments the messenger stated that the king had
sent him to tell the Governor that a man named Awoosoo, a son of a
prince of Ashanti, whoso ancestors were from Gaman, had been persuaded
by an Assin trader, named Amankrah, to run away from Coomassie to the
Protectorate; and the king had sent him to ask the Governor to send
back Awoosoo. Further the envoy demanded that Amankrah should be given
up, because, although he had been regarded by the king as a friend,
and had been for many years a resident in Coomassie, it had been
reported to the king that he had lately gone to Gaman and obtained
money from the king of that country upon a promise that he would use
his best endeavours to persuade Awoosoo to go to Gaman.
To this the Lieutenant-Governor replied that as Awoosoo had not
committed any crime, and was now under British protection, it was not
in his power to give him up to the king. Enguie then asked if the
Lieutenant-Governor would prevent Awoosoo from going to Gaman; and
was told in reply that he was free to go from British protection or
remain under it, as he pleased, no one having any right to control his
movements.
So far all who were present at the audience were agreed as to what had
occurred, but as to what followed there was a serious difference of
opinion. Some said that Enguie then stated that the Assins were people
who always caused palavers between Ashanti and the Protectorate, and
that the king said if the Lieutenant-Governor would not give up Awoosoo
he would invade Assin. Those who held to this version further stated
that Busumburu at once got up and confirmed this statement, and that
the Lieutenant-Governor thereupon called Enguie’s attention to the
treaty of Fommanah, and pointed out to him that an invasion of Assin
meant war with England.
Other officers who were present at the audience positively declared
that nothing of the sort had occurred, and that Enguie had at the
audience made no threat of invasion; but that, as it had been reported
that he had said to the interpreter, informally, and in the course of
conversation at the interpreter’s house, that if Awoosoo were not given
up the king would take Assin, the treaty of 1874 was shown to him.
For my part I am inclined to believe that this latter account is the
correct one; but it is a question which can never be satisfactorily
settled, as the evidence is so conflicting.
With regard to the golden axe, people spoke of it as being a
declaration of war, and said that it had been sent down in 1873,
which was not a fact. In reality the golden axe alone is neither a
declaration of war nor a menace. It simply means that the embassy which
bears it is no ordinary one, and that the matter on which the envoys
have come is one in which, as the senders think, great interests are at
stake. In this case, however, the axe was accompanied by an additional
emblem which did threaten hostilities. This was a fac-simile in gold of
a portion of the earthen-nest of a mason-wasp, which escaped the notice
of all Colonial officials, with but one exception, or was considered
by them unworthy of notice. This emblem denoted that if the affair on
which the golden axe was sent were not settled to the satisfaction of
the Ashantis they would use their stings, or, in other words, endeavour
to attain their ends by force. So little was this symbol understood in
Colonial circles that no explanation of its presence or meaning was
ever at any time demanded from the Ashantis, not even when, later, they
were protesting that they had never threatened or wished for war.
With reference to the report that Amankrah had induced Awoosoo to
escape from Coomassie, it seems evident that there was no truth in
it. The former stated that he met Awoosoo at Quissah near Fommanah,
and that he, Awoosoo, begged to be conducted to the Governor. Awoosoo
corroborated this, and neither of them could have any motive for
concealing the truth, if the flight had been arranged in Coomassie.
The story that Amankrah had received a sum of money from King Ajiman of
Gaman on a promise to do his best to induce Awoosoo to go to Gaman was
a plausible one. Awoosoo was the real heir of the Gaman throne, and,
if he appeared as a claimant for it, the rival factions of Ajiman and
Korkobo would bury their differences, and the Gamanites would become a
united people. Naturally, under these circumstances, the Ashantis were
very anxious to prevent him from going to Gaman. Awoosoo’s grandmother
was a princess of Gaman, and it was through her that he derived his
right to the throne, the female branches taking precedence of the
male in conferring birthright both in Gaman and Ashanti. She married
in Coomassie, and bore a daughter who married Prince Osai Cudjo of
Ashanti. Awoosoo was the offspring of this union, and was thus a prince
of Ashanti in right of his father and a prince of Gaman in right of his
mother; but, in consequence of the native rule of precedence, he was
considered to be a Gaman, and was always spoken of as a native of that
country.
After the departure of the messengers with the golden axe the Colonial
Government was suddenly seized with a violent craving for information
concerning the tribes of the interior, their relations with Ashanti,
and the position, in a military sense, of Ashanti itself. This was, of
course, a most praiseworthy desire, but all such information ought to
have been collected years before; and the eleventh hour, when all the
officials were more or less in a state of panic, was hardly the time at
which reliable data could be obtained or a temperate judgment formed.
The merest hearsay reports were listened with avidity, and jotted down
as most valuable evidence. Inquiries were made of Quabina Annuoah,
the linguist of King Chiboo of Yancoomassie-Fanti, who, according to
his own statement, had not been to Coomassie for sixteen years, as to
the condition of the Snider rifles which were in the possession of
the Ashantis, and which they had only obtained during the last three
or four years. Quabina promptly replied that Mensah had about three
hundred Sniders, with not many cartridges; that sometimes the rifles
were not cleaned for a week or two, and were now nearly all useless. To
show how utterly unreliable this was I may add that a few weeks later a
man named Amoo Quacoo, a blacksmith and a native of Accra, was brought
to me, and in the course of conversation stated that he had lately
returned from Coomassie, where he had been employed by the king in
looking after three hundred Snider rifles stored in the king’s house.
He said that the rifles were all in good condition, that the Ashantis
took great care of them, cleaning and oiling them daily; and that there
were about four boxes of ammunition to each rifle. Awoosoo had also
seen these three hundred rifles, and the Government at once jumped
to the conclusion that these were all the Ashantis possessed, until
the illusion was rudely dispelled by two Germans, Messrs. Buck and
Huppenbauer, who saw the king in Coomassie on February 5th, and counted
one thousand men armed with Sniders.
The statements of Awoosoo and Quabina Annuoah, to the effect that there
were now no good captains or generals in Ashanti, were gravely written
down; when the Government must, or at all events ought to have been,
aware that both Awooah, chief of Bantama, the conqueror of Djuabin, and
Opokoo, chief of Becquai, who had opposed such a vigorous resistance
to Sir Garnet Wolseley in 1874, were still in the land of the living.
The latter made his statement still more ridiculous by saying that
they could not get any men of his size (about 5 feet 7 inches). These
two men were also questioned as to the number of men King Mensah could
put into the field. The former is stated in the official documents to
have said 20,000 and the latter 30,000. I should like to know how these
figures were arrived at, for in the Tche language there are no words
which can specifically express any such numbers.
On January 30th Prince Ansah returned from Axim, where he had been on
some secret errand, probably superintending the transmission of the
three tons of powder, which were smuggled at Apollonia, to Coomassie;
on the next day, and on February 3rd, he had interviews with the
Lieutenant-Governor. He protested that the Ashantis had no intention
of making war, and that the Government was making a great mistake. He
further added that the golden axe did not denote hostile action, and
that both Enguie and Busumburu denied altogether having said that if
Awoosoo were not given up the king would invade Assin. He seemed much
impressed at the rapidity with which the reinforcement had arrived
from Sierra Leone. The Lieutenant-Governor, adopting a high tone,
told Ansah that he would demand 5,000 ounces of gold as compensation
for the expense to which the Colony had been put, and said that if
the king refused to pay it he would seize some of his territory. As
Ansah was not an accredited ambassador, but merely an agent, the
Lieutenant-Governor committed himself to nothing by this statement; and
probably the former knew quite well that the Imperial Government would
never allow us to take the initiative in any hostile measures.
The advent of the two companies from Sierra Leone had raised the total
strength of regular troops on the Gold Coast to 400 men. Houssas had
also been brought up to Accra, so that there were 295 men of the Gold
Coast Constabulary available, and thus stationed:--At Elmina, 140; at
Prahsu, 115; and at Mansu, 40. H.M.S. “Flirt” had arrived at Elmina,
and fifty of her men were held in readiness to land. These sensible
additions to the local defences had somewhat quieted apprehensions, but
there was still a good deal of excitement. The officials of the colony
had plucked up courage, and some positively bristled with warlike
ardour; the ordinary duties and peaceful habits of life were discarded,
the proverbial phrase “_Cedant arma togæ_” was cast to the dogs, and
high legal functionaries busied themselves in the proposed raising of a
local volunteer corps of native clerks and shopmen.
Earthworks were commenced at Java Hill and in the Government Garden
at Elmina, where, in June 1873, a handful of the Second West India
regiment had repulsed the main Ashanti attack with great slaughter.
This work, when completed, was to be garrisoned by the seamen and
marines from the men-of-war now lying off Elmina; but the senior
naval officer refused to land his men unless he was allowed to take
charge of the military operations. As there is a paragraph in the
Queen’s Regulations expressly stating that naval officers shall not
command troops on shore, this rather created a difficulty, which,
however, the Lieutenant-Governor met by placing, much to the disgust
of the military, the Houssa Constabulary under the orders of the naval
officer. The seamen and marines, to the number of some fifty, were then
landed, and remained in Elmina Castle for three days, at great peril to
their health, as they were not provided with helmets.
During his short reign the senior naval officer withdrew all the
Houssas from Prahsu and Mansu, on the grounds that if they were left
there they would be defeated and cut off. He did not seem to be aware
that it was the duty of outposts to delay the advance of an enemy
without compromising their own retreat, and to fall back slowly,
sending full information to the main body. When the Houssas were
withdrawn several thousand rounds of Snider ammunition were left at
Prahsu, which the Ashantis could have taken had they so pleased; and
had the enemy advanced we should have had to depend upon the ignorant
and panic-stricken natives for intelligence, and should have had no
reliable information as to the number, line of march, and armament of
the foe. In fact, it would be difficult to imagine a more inexpedient
step than this withdrawal of our frontier post, for, in addition
to weakening our military position, it naturally disheartened the
protected tribes, and encouraged the Ashantis.
Before, however, this division in the command was made, the Ashanti
messengers, both men of low origin, which in itself, considering the
serious state of affairs, was a slight to the Government, arrived
at Cape Coast, and had an audience with the Lieutenant-Governor on
February 8th. These messengers were Quabina Ewah, a court-crier, and
Quabina Oyentaki, a sword-bearer. They were accompanied by Enguie and
Busumburu.
These envoys had left Coomassie before the ambassadors with the golden
axe had returned, having in fact met them one day’s journey from the
capital, and brought the following message:--
“The king has heard that Houssas and officers are at Prahsu, building
a bridge. As all that is past is gone and done with, he wishes to know
what this means, and why the Governor is going to fight?”
The messengers complained that the Adansis had illtreated them on their
way through Adansi territory, and that they had seen them seize two
Ashanti traders from the Kokofuah district, and plunder them of their
goods and gunpowder. They further stated that the messengers with the
golden axe had told them that at an Adansi village, named Ansah, a
trader who had joined the retinue had been ill-treated and robbed of
his gun. They applied to the Lieutenant-Governor for redress, and were
evidently fully under the impression that Adansi was either included
in the British protectorate or that we were bound by treaty to protect
them from the Ashantis, and were consequently under the obligation of
seeing that no Ashantis were maltreated by them.
In fact the Adansis appear to have laboured under the delusion that we
were bound to support them, and so behaved in this manner. A renegade
is always more bitter than a foe who has not changed sides, and the
Adansis, having _ratted_ from the Ashanti kingdom when they conceived
it to be falling to pieces, were now displaying their animosity by
the--in this part of the world--unheard-of insult of molesting a
person in the retinue of an ambassador. As they are numerically an
insignificant tribe, they would not have dared to do this had they not
believed that Great Britain was bound to save them from the vengeance
of Ashanti; and, now that King Mensah fully understands that they are
not a protected people, and provided that our non-intervention policy
is still persevered in, their day of reckoning is not far distant.
One of the messengers, Quabina Eunah, having remarked that the Adansis
were clearing the roads, the Lieutenant-Governor said that they were
bound to do so by the treaty of Fommanah, and expressed a hope that the
king of Ashanti was also fulfilling his treaty obligations by keeping
the main road to his capital clear of bush, which expression elicited
nothing from the messengers but a laugh. Now whether he was annoyed at
this, or whether it was simply through ignorance of native customs (he
being quite new to the country and people), the Lieutenant-Governor
at once questioned the authenticity of the message, and asked the
messengers how he was to know that they came from the king. They
pointed to the gold plates on their breasts as being their insignia of
office, and the Lieutenant-Governor then said that the king ought to
have sent him something which he had seen before, and could therefore
recognise. Upon this Enguie sarcastically observed that hitherto the
Governor had seen nothing from the king but the golden axe, and as they
had left Coomassie before that state weapon had been returned to the
capital it was impossible that they could have brought it down; adding,
“even if his Excellency would like to see it again, which I doubt.”
Everybody felt that the Lieutenant-Governor had not got the best of
this little exchange of words, which had arisen through his groundless
suspicion.
The ignorance of the country and mode of thought of the natives
displayed by the Lieutenant-Governor’s advisers militated very much
against the taking of vigorous measures. A combination of native tribes
against Ashanti was talked of, and men who ought to have known better
did not hesitate to include the Gamans in this confederation. The truth
was, that the fact that a Gaman embassy had visited the coast in 1879,
and had stated that the whole nation was actuated by a bitter hostility
to Ashanti, was remembered; while all the information gained by Mr.
Smith in his mission to Buntuku, which tended to show that no such
feeling of ill-will existed, was forgotten. No doubt that gentleman’s
report had long since been lost sight of in one of the pigeon-holes in
the Private Secretary’s office. Native report concerning Gaman asserted
that King Ajiman had contrived to retain possession of the throne, but
that Prince Korkobo was, in all but name, the actual ruler, and had
been nominated Ajiman’s successor.
The only tribes in the British protectorate who could be relied upon
to furnish a certain quota of men are those of Denkera, Assin, Western
Akim, and Fanti. Wassaw, Ahanta, and Eastern Akim would not move in
1873, and do not seem to have any feeling of enmity to Ashanti; while
to utilize the men of King Blay of Apollonia away from their own
country would only be to tempt the disaffected natives surrounding his
territory to take up arms.
That the tribes in the neighbourhood of Axim and Apollonia were
disaffected was evident from the reports of the District Commissioner
there, Mr. Firminger, a young officer who had taken the trouble to
study what is too frequently neglected by the Colonial officers on
the Gold Coast, namely, the political relations of the tribes with
which he was brought in contact. He reported that the Awooins were on
the most intimate terms with the Ashantis, and that their disregard
for English law was owing to advice from Coomassie. The king of Bayin
was also on friendly terms with King Mensah, and in January 1881 had
sent one of his cane-bearers to Coomassie to reside there, and had
received in return an Ashanti agent to reside at Bayin. Mr. Firminger
says:--“Should any trouble occur with Ashanti I am assured that the
people from Bayin to the frontier would join them.”[3]
Under the general name of Fanti are included the petty kingdoms of
Cape Coast, Elmina, Effutu, Abrali, Dunquah, Dominassi, Anamaboe,
Mankessim, Ajimacong, and Mumford; and, generally speaking, the men of
these sub-divisions are worthless as soldiers, while Elmina and Effutu
are more than half friendly to the Ashantis. The number of men which
each chief could put into the field is enormously exaggerated; thus the
Anamaboe contingent is estimated at from 2,500 to 3,000, whereas it
would be exceedingly difficult, if not impossible, to raise more than
500 men from that district. By using strong measures 4,000 men might
be got together from the Fanti tribes collectively, but they would all
rather carry than fight, and it would be better so to employ them.
On February 8th I received orders to proceed next day to Anamaboe
with 100 men and two 4-2/5-inch howitzers, and occupy the fort there,
which had hurriedly been put into a state of preparation, after having
been without a garrison for some fifty years. With some difficulty I
obtained permission to march to my destination instead of going by sea,
as fears were entertained as to the liability of my being cut off;
but I pointed out that as no enemy had yet crossed the Prah, and as
that frontier was seventy-four miles distant, there could be no danger
in a march which would only occupy a few hours. At that time war was
considered inevitable: the axe, accompanied by the wasp’s nest, was
a clear declaration of war; and Ansah’s declarations, and the second
message from the king, viewed by the light of similar protestations in
1873, were not considered of much account.
Under such circumstances, to garrison Anamaboe with 100 men was, from
a military point of view, a grievous mistake. In the first place it
reduced the already sufficiently small force at Cape Coast; in the
second place the Ashantis had never been near Anamaboe since 1807, and
were not likely to go there in 1881, since they had considered it too
insignificant in 1814, 1824, 1863, and 1873; and in the third place,
should the presence there of troops attract them, the force, being so
small, could only act on the defensive. Held with a force sufficiently
large to permit of offensive measures being adopted, Anamaboe would
be an excellent position, as it is some miles nearer to Dunquah, and
consequently to the Prah, than Cape Coast, and the flank of an army
threatening the latter town might most effectually be harassed from it.
FOOTNOTE:
[3] This opinion, which is based upon unmistakeable facts, shows how
precarious would be the position of the various Goldmining Companies
now endeavouring to induce the British public to take shares in
their enterprises. I have been asked by persons connected with these
Companies to state that in the event of complications with Ashanti the
Tarquah district would be quite free from molestation. I regret that I
am unable to do so; but I believe that immediately upon the outbreak of
hostilities the mining camps would be pillaged, the “plant” destroyed,
and the persons employed only able to save their lives by instant
flight. Of course, if the Colonial Government adopt measures for the
protection of these Companies, that is another matter; but the main
road from Assinee to Coomassie passes through Awooin, and the Ashantis
would not allow their main artery for the supply of munitions of war to
be cut off without opposition.
CHAPTER XIII.
A Teacher of the Gospel--Anamaboe--A third Message from the
King--Affairs in Coomassie--Downfall of the War Party--False
Rumours--Arrival of the Governor--A fourth Message from the
King--Further Complications.
At 5 a.m. on February 9th the company paraded, and we marched off to
Anamaboe, a distance of some twelve miles. We followed the Prah road as
far as Inquabim market, that is for about four and a half miles, and
then branched off to the right by a narrow and irregular bush-path over
the Iron Hills: the track was too narrow for two men to walk abreast,
and the procession consequently was strung out to some length. The
few natives we met, astonished at the unusual spectacle of soldiers
in this part of the country, and fancying we were going to seize them
as carriers, as was done in 1874, bolted into the bush directly they
caught sight of us, dropping their pots of water or loads of plantains
in their flight.
After three hours’ marching over vile roads and steep hills we halted
for an hour for breakfast at a small village in the bush about nine
miles from Cape Coast; the men piled arms and bivouacked under some
umbrella-trees in the centre of the village, while we, the officers,
went towards a fairly good sort of house that stood close by; The
owner and occupier of this mansion was a local preacher belonging to
some missionary society, and he at once said, like any other native
would have said, that we might make use of his house during our stay;
but added, unlike any other native, provided we paid him: we made
no difficulty about this, and proceeded to breakfast. While we were
discussing that meal the preacher came in accompanied by two young
girls, about twelve or thirteen years of age, attired in gorgeous
native cloths, with their wool distorted into the latest Fanti fashion,
and bedecked with brilliant handkerchiefs. We asked our host if he
required anything, and he said “No,” he had only come to do a little
business with us; we then inquired what that business might be, and,
after a little beating about the bush, he informed us that, as Anamaboe
was rather a dull place for Europeans, he thought we might like to buy
these two girls, and, if so, we could have them for 4_l._ a piece.
We asked him what authority he had for disposing of them in this
unceremonious fashion, and he replied that they were his servants; but,
on being pressed for further information, he confessed that they had
been given to him by their parents in payment of some debt--in fact
they were slaves. Much to his disappointment we felt ourselves obliged
to decline his generous offer, which refusal he attributed entirely
to the price, and lowered his terms first to 3_l._ 10_s._ and then to
3_l._, equally without success; while it was easy to see that the dusky
damsels considered our rejection of the proposal as a proof of our
exceedingly bad taste, and were as much disappointed and chagrined as
their master.
A little abashed at the manner in which we had treated his offer, the
preacher sent away the two young ladies to the back of his premises,
and, beginning to have a faint idea that he had somehow not risen in
our estimation, he endeavoured to retrieve his lost ground by falling
back upon his more legitimate occupation, and asked that we should
delay our departure in order that he might preach a sermon to the men.
The hypocrisy of this proposition, coming as it did immediately after
the other, was more than we could stand, and, expressing our thoughts
in unequivocal terms, we paid him what we owed, went out, and got the
men together ready to march off. The village pastor, however, was not
going to be done out of an opportunity of showing forth before his
unsophisticated flock, and, while we were preparing to start, delivered
an exhortation in which “the sword of the Lord and of Gideon,”
“soldiers of the Lord,” “smite with the edge of the sword,” and similar
expressions, were jumbled together in a meaningless jargon; while
when we moved off he strode alongside for some distance, open-mouthed,
shouting in a discordant voice that highly-appropriate hymn called
“Hold the Fort,” the work of those itinerant vendors of religion,
Messrs. Moody and Sankey.
Whenever I meet such creatures as this local preacher I am moved
to anger and restrain myself only with difficulty. Little children
in England stint themselves in the luxury of sweets by giving of
their scarce pence to aid the “poor missionaries,” and people who
can ill afford to be charitable contribute their mite to further the
promulgation of Christianity among heathen negroes; while scoundrels
like this preacher batten upon the subscriptions thus raised, live
in the best house in the village, acquire authority and wealth, and
lead a happy life of idleness and vice. The persons who draw up those
highly-coloured Mission Reports for the benefit of the gullible British
public have a great deal to answer for.
We reached Anamaboe about 10 a.m., and found the fort prepared for our
reception as well as could be expected under the circumstances. Of
late years it had been occupied by two or three Fanti policemen with
their numerous wives and dependents, and consequently was not as clean
as it might have been; while no attempt had been made to make good
the damage resulting from years of neglect. As a military position,
the defects which were the cause of the surrender of the fort to the
Ashantis in 1806 had not been remedied; the loopholes in the curtain
were so made that fire could only be brought to bear on a point some
forty yards from the walls, and persons beyond or within that distance
could not be touched, while the embrasures yawned to such an extent
that it would cost many lives to work guns so exposed to the fire of
an enemy. Added to this, the native swish-houses extended on one side
to within twenty yards of the walls; and on another side stood an
immense house, built of stone, which actually overlooked the bastions
and commanded the whole fort. As neither food nor water fit to drink
were to be obtained here, these necessaries of life had to be forwarded
daily from Cape Coast in surf-boats: sometimes the water, through some
oversight, failed to appear, and we had to use the dysenteric liquid
from the neighbouring pools, or go without; the former alternative was
usually chosen, and, in spite of every precaution, such as boiling and
filtering, a very large percentage of the men were constantly on the
sick-list. As for the officers, three in number, we were always more
or less ill. The town was in a condition of indescribable filth, and
at times the stench which arose was so suffocating that, in spite of
the intense heat, we were obliged to keep the doors and windows of
our rooms closed. The streets, the yards, the bush--in fact the whole
surface of the earth within a radius of half-a-mile from the fort--was
covered with the collected refuse of half-a-century, which, under the
combined influence of sun and rain, gave forth a curious variety of
pestilential odours. Altogether, Anamaboe was an exceedingly salubrious
and, under the circumstances, useful post.
On February 17th a third embassy arrived at Cape Coast from Coomassie,
consisting of a linguist, a sword-bearer, three court-criers, and an
old fetish priestess, the latter of whom threatened to utterly destroy
both the English and the Fantis if they did not at once abandon any
intention they might have of making war upon Ashanti. On the 18th these
ambassadors, with the exception of the old lady, had an interview with
the Lieutenant-Governor at Elmina, Enguie and Busumburu being again in
attendance. After the preliminary formalities, Bendi, the linguist,
said:--
“The king of Ashanti sends his compliments to his friend the Governor,
and bids me to speak to the Governor’s interpreter, and to tell him to
say to the Governor that some time ago an Assin trader, named Amankrah,
came to Coomassie to trade, and stole away the king’s son Awoosoo down
to the coast. When Prince Awoosoo ran away from Coomassie the king’s
messengers came to ask the Governor to give him up. But by the law of
England, if a man runs to the English Government for protection, he
cannot be given up. The king of Ashanti says--‘When my son ran away I
applied to the Governor to see if he could give him up to me. I have
no palaver with the Assins, but Enguie, out of his own head, said to
the Governor--‘If you do not give him up, some palaver will come.’ Your
Excellency must know that that was not the king’s message.’
“The Governor said--‘Give me the paper.’ He said to Enguie--‘Are you
Enguie? Are you the man who signed the treaty that Assin, Gaman, and
Denkera, should be under the English, and now do you come to me to
break the treaty?’ Enguie said--‘I do not break the treaty.’ After
this we wished to leave Elmina in order to go to Cape Coast, but next
morning a messenger came and told our messengers that they must not go,
for the Governor had still something to say. Then our messengers waited
and the Governor said he must make a book,[4] because Enguie had broken
the treaty. Our messengers replied--‘No one can read at Coomassie, but
we will take your letter to the king.’
“Then the letter was carried to the king, and the king said--‘Enguie
did not break the treaty. The words he spoke were his own words. He
was sent to the Governor to be kept on the coast. He is the Governor’s
servant, and it must not be said that he broke the treaty.’ For this
reason the king has sent us, his linguist and sword-bearer, to let the
Governor know that this is the case. We mean to say that Enguie himself
said these words, and not the king. He is the servant of the Governor
as well as of the king, and it was his own speech, and not the king’s
message.
“Again we say to the Governor, the king of Adansi made a report that
the king of Ashanti is going to march upon the Adansis and fight with
them. But, in consequence of the treaty between England and Ashanti,
the Ashantis would not come down to fight with anybody. They would not
bring a single gun across the Prah to fight. As to the people under
the English Government, the king will never come to fight any one of
them. The king says so. If the Governor has heard that the Ashantis are
ready to attack any part of the protectorate, the report is not true.
The king wishes to be a friend to this Governor, as Quacoe Duah was to
Governor Maclean. If any one says that the king of Ashanti intends to
attack the protectorate it is false, and not true. He has sent us to
say that it is not true. He wishes to be friendly with the Governor.
“As to the gold axe, it means nothing. It is not used as a symbol;
you can ask any of the chiefs about here. Amankrah Accoomah, the
axe-bearer, used to bring the axe, but it is no symbol. The king
says--‘You can tell the Governor that the axe is nothing.’ If any one
comes and reports to the Governor this and that of the king, let the
Governor send a messenger to the king, and the king will clear himself.
“We have finished. For this reason have we come, we wish to be friends
with the Governor. As to what Enguie has said, Enguie is the Governor’s
servant, and the Governor can forgive Enguie and let that pass.”
After this some conversation ensued, in the course of which both Enguie
and Busumburu, amid considerable confusion, denied that the former had
ever said that the king would attack Assin. The Lieutenant-Governor
thereupon called the Government interpreter, Davis, and in answer to
questions the latter said that Enguie had told him, at his house, that
if Awoosoo were not given up the Ashantis would attack Assin. It is
worthy of notice that Davis said nothing of any such threat having
been formally made during the audience with the Lieutenant-Governor;
indeed, for some inscrutable reason, the regular interpreter had not
been employed upon that occasion, and the duty of interpretation
had been left to a young clerk employed in the Colonial Office, a
fact which renders the theory of a formal threat having been made
exceedingly doubtful.
This was all that occurred of moment, and as the Governor, Sir Samuel
Rowe, was expected to arrive soon, the Lieutenant-Governor decided to
leave things as they were, and merely returned a message to the effect
that he was glad to hear of King Mensah’s peaceable intentions, and
that so long as these were manifest he would be his friend. Yet, having
heard that Sir Samuel Rowe would arrive in a few days, he thought it
better to leave the matter in his hands, as the Governor coming direct
from the Queen would know her mind on the subject.
Having seen what was taking place in the protectorate it may be now
interesting to know what the Ashantis had been doing in their capital,
and to ascertain the causes which led to the threatening attitude, and
to the subsequent peaceful and apologetic messages.
As I have endeavoured to show in Chapter XI., affairs were in rather a
critical condition in Coomassie owing to the struggle for supremacy
between the war and court parties, and the escape of Awoosoo, happening
at this crisis, placed the winning card in the hands of the former.
As I have already said, it was necessary in the interests of Prince
Korkobo of Gaman, the good friend and ally of Ashanti, that Awoosoo
should be detained in Coomassie, and the unexpected escape of a
person of such importance in Ashanti politics created the greatest
consternation, which feeling, when it became known that the fugitive
had claimed British protection, was soon mingled with a longing for
revenge. Numerous influential chiefs, who had hitherto either belonged
to the court party or had equally held aloof from both sections, now
joined the war party, which carried everything before it, and at the
“palaver” which was held Mensah could do nothing but acquiesce in their
proposals: in fact any attempt on his part to stem the popular current
would only have resulted in his downfall.
From time immemorial in Ashanti it had been the custom when any
important personage sought asylum with the British Government to send
an embassy to demand the surrender of the refugee, with instructions,
in the event of a refusal, to threaten prompt hostilities. At the
meeting of turbulent “caboceers” it was determined to follow this
haughty precedent, and the king was compelled to submit. To use the
words of an eye-witness--“The king said to the messengers who were to
start for Cape Coast--‘All black men are subject to me and I will have
my revenge for all this.’ He then took the golden axe and the golden
hoe, saying: ‘If this man should escape up a tree, here is an axe with
which to cut it down. Should he burrow into the ground, here is a hoe
with which to dig him up. Go, and bring him back.’”
This reference to the axe and hoe meant that the ambassadors were to
hew or make their way through all obstacles; and that, if necessary,
force would be used for the accomplishment of the mission on which they
were sent.
So far, but no further, was Mensah influenced by the powerful war
party. A number of the chiefs wished to declare war at once, without
waiting for any reply from the Government of the Gold Coast to their
demand; and Awooah, the Ashanti general, actually swore the king’s
oath, to break which is death, that he would drive the Adansis over
the Prah. He left Coomassie for Bantama, his town, to call out the
men of his district; but Mensah succeeded in persuading all the other
chiefs, except Opokoo of Becquai, to postpone actual hostilities until
the expected refusal of the Government, had been received, and Awooah,
finding only one chief ready to second him, gave up his project. As
he was too influential a person to be put to death, for in Ashanti as
elsewhere the law seems to be made rather for the poor than for the
rich, he was punished for breaking the king’s oath by the infliction of
a heavy fine.
After the departure of the embassy with the axe, most of the opposition
“caboceers” retired to their own towns to await the issue, and Mensah
took advantage of this to gather round him all his adherents and
strengthen his position. Before, however, the ambassadors returned
to the capital with the reply of the Lieutenant-Governor, messengers
arrived there with the news that Houssas and officers were at Prahsu
building a bridge. This report, which originated in the despatch
of a few Houssas to Prahsu to watch events, while it confirmed the
worst apprehensions of the court party, seemed to the war party to
evince a disposition on the part of the Colonial Government to meet
them half-way, which they considered exceedingly suspicious. In all
their former wars with the British they had taken the initiative, and
over-run the country between the Prah and the sea with their victorious
armies. Even in the disastrous war of 1873-4 they had, for more than
six months, held entire possession of the western half of the colony,
with the exception of two or three towns on the sea-board, which were
protected by the forts and gunboats. They wished for war it is true,
but they wished to enter upon it when and where they pleased, and
were not at all prepared to have it carried into their own country.
That they expected this to be done is evident from the message sent
by the king on February 6th to Mr. Newenham, the constabulary officer
stationed at Prahsu, to the effect that he hoped to receive timely
notice before the British forces marched on Coomassie. They remembered
the advance of European troops which followed the building of a bridge
over the Prah on a former occasion, therefore when told that a bridge
was now being built, they jumped to the conclusion that the Government
must have some considerable force at hand. The more hot-headed members
of the war party wished to invade Adansi at once, so as to dispute the
passage of the Prah, but some of the more recent adherents of this
group changed sides once more, thus strengthening Mensah’s hands; and
the result of the next “palaver” was the despatch of the peaceful and
apologetic second message, which was delivered at Cape Coast Castle on
February 8th.
The day after this second embassy had left Coomassie, the
ambassadors with the golden axe returned with the letter from the
Lieutenant-Governor, refusing to comply with the demand which had been
made for the surrender of Awoosoo, and two days later an important
“palaver” was held. The two parties were now fairly matched, and
the discussion lasted for several days, each section endeavouring,
by eloquence, taunts, threats, and promises, to win over wavering
opponents to its own side. While victory was still trembling in the
balance news arrived at Coomassie that the Government was arming the
Fantis and the Assins, and was about to invade Ashanti with these
auxiliaries. This rumour was entirely without foundation, but its
effect in Coomassie was prodigious. Neither the war nor the court party
could hear patiently that their old enemies, whom they had conquered
time after time, and whom they considered to be slaves and women, were
about to carry war into their territory; a terrible orgie broke out,
the death-drum was beaten, slaves were sacrificed, all the Assins and
Fantis in Coomassie were “put in log,” and night closed upon a wild
scene of madness and intoxication.
Had not this report been immediately contradicted war would have
been inevitable; but next morning it was declared to be unfounded
by a messenger from Prince Ansah who opportunely arrived, and who
also brought the news of the sudden arrival of troops at Cape Coast
from Sierra Leone. The strength of the reinforcement was greatly
exaggerated, and it was said that thousands of Europeans were _en
route_ from England and daily expected. The war party then began to
think that, considering the divided state of the nation, they had
been a little too hasty in their declaration of hostilities, and that
it would be better to temporise. The queen-mother, who possessed
enormous influence, threatened to commit suicide “on the heads”[5]
of the principal chiefs of the war party if they persevered in their
intentions, and this threat sealed the fate of their party. Most of
the bellicose chiefs returned to their own towns to sulk in dignified
silence, and Mensah had things entirely his own way. To show how
pacific were his intentions he said, at a palaver which was held at
this time, “It is said that white men are coming across the Prah. We
have done nothing, we have no quarrel with them. Let us sit still;
and, if they wish to fight, let them fire the first shot.” A party of
Ashantis whom he had sent to take possession of a gold-mine situated
in Adansi territory, and the ownership of which was the subject of a
dispute, were also recalled, in order that there might be no pretext
for saying that he was interfering in the affairs of tribes who were
independent The day after the above statement of his intentions
Mensah sent his third message to the Lieutenant-Governor, explicitly
stating that he had no hostile design. This message was, as we have
seen, delivered on February 18th; thus, twenty-five days after the
declaration of war, it was known to the government of the Gold Coast
that Mensah desired peace, and that there was no prospect of an
embroilment; but by that time the first alarming telegram had already
reached England.
After the decision of the Lieutenant-Governor to do nothing till the
arrival of his superior, the Colony was disturbed by several groundless
alarms. One of these was to the effect that the king was calling out
his army, and had posted a strong force at Ordahsu; while, according
to another, which was current on March 2nd, the Ashantis had crossed
the Prah in force, and had reached Dunquah. The author of these false
reports was never discovered, though suspicion fell upon a trader, who,
having a large supply of goods on hand, wished to keep others from
importing. This man was also suspected of sending that telegram from
St. Vincent which surprised England with the intelligence that the
Ashanti army was within three days’ march of Cape Coast.
But, although there was little or nothing to be feared from the
tribes beyond the boundary of the Colony, there was a great deal of
dissatisfaction amongst the protected tribes. The chiefs of Accra, on
being called together to state what quota of men they would be prepared
to furnish in case of war, flatly refused to raise any men for the
defence of the protectorate until their king, Tacki, was released from
imprisonment at Elmina. This refusal was committed to writing and the
document signed by forty-eight of the most influential chiefs of the
district. I have already referred to the critical state of affairs in
the western extremity of the Colony, and to the east the Awoonahs began
to make preparations; so energetically, too, that the chiefs of Addah,
who had promised to raise some 4,000 men, now said that they could not
leave their own country, as, were they to do so, the Awoonahs would
pillage their towns and carry off the women and children.
These facts were rude shocks to the Government. Theoretical Governors
had fondly nursed the belief, until it had grown into an article of
faith, that the years of peace which had succeeded the events of 1874
had induced the various tribes in the protectorate,--distinct though
these were by language, traditions, and customs,--to bury their several
grievances and become a homogeneous people, and now it was only too
evident that the mere rumour of possible hostilities with Ashanti
had alone been sufficient to bring again into prominence all their
inter-tribal enmities, and make each nation suspicious and jealous
of its neighbours. The world can now judge how far any proposed
combination of the protected tribes against Ashanti would be likely to
be successful.
On March 4th the Governor of the Gold Coast Colony, Sir Samuel Rowe,
arrived at Elmina, accompanied by some half-dozen of the Sierra Leone
armed police, a number of Kroomen, who had been engaged as carriers,
and several officers temporarily in Colonial employ. By the 12th the
Chief Justice had arrived from Accra, and the Governor was sworn in.
After this ceremony had been performed everybody expected him to say or
do something to re-open communications with the king, to whose peaceful
message of February 18th no answer had yet been returned; but, instead,
nothing was talked of but meetings of friendly chiefs and the raising
of native levies. A demonstration to the Prah was mooted, which, had it
been undertaken, would have been quite useless, for the now independent
kingdom of Adansi intervenes between that river and Ashanti; while the
dreadful mortality of the war of 1863 should have taught that no body
of men ought to be encamped at Prahsu, if any other equally suitable
locality could be found. As the king had said he desired peace, there
did not seem any necessity for a demonstration at all; though, if one
were undertaken, the Adansi hills, being at once comparatively healthy
and on the southern frontier of Ashanti, would be the proper point at
which to make it.
The old rumours of preparations in Ashanti were revived. It was
reported that a messenger from the king of Adansi had brought
intelligence that the army was being called out, and a letter from a
German agent at Addah, one of the last places for obtaining authentic
information from Coomassie, was gravely quoted in support of the theory
that, in spite of all peaceable protestations, Mensah still meant war.
Many people began seriously to think that the Governor intended to
force on a war, while others, who were more behind the scenes, surmised
that Sir Samuel Rowe was merely raising the Ashanti bugbear in order
that he might obtain more credit for laying it.
It was evident that the Home Government thought we were fighting for
dear life, for on March 13th the hired transport “Ararat,” with sick
and wounded from Natal, put in to Cape Coast, _en route_ for England,
to pick up our wounded. Happily we had not prepared any, and the ship
went away as it had come.
Earlier than this, however, namely on March 6th, the Governor had an
interview with Enguie and Busumburu, who had remained at Cape Coast
since the beginning of the complication. He addressed them to the
effect that the British Government did not wish to conquer Ashanti,
but rather that the Fantis and Ashantis should live in peace together,
and was as ambiguous and encouraging as he could well be. The Ashantis
replied that they had brought their message to Prince Ansah, and they
wished to give it to the Governor through him.
Accordingly, on March 8th, Prince Ansah came to Elmina, and the
ambassadors through him proposed that a portion of the embassy might
be allowed to return to Coomassie, to carry a special message to the
king. The Governor replied that he considered this request should be
made by the ambassadors in person. This was done on the 11th, when
the ambassadors stated that they were very anxious to send a message
to the king, and requested permission to send three of their number
to Coomassie. The Governor said that he had no objection as long as
it was clearly understood that the message which they carried was a
private one from themselves, and not from him, and that they made that
matter perfectly clear to the king. Next day the messengers left for
Coomassie, their departure and the final settlement of the Ashanti
difficulty having by the above diplomatic subterfuges been delayed for
six days.
In the meantime, King Mensah at Coomassie could not at all understand
what was taking place. He had sent to Cape Coast to say he had no
intention of making war, and, instead of any reply being vouchsafed, he
had been told that he must wait for an answer until the arrival of the
Governor. That event had been duly communicated to him by his agent at
Cape Coast, but still no message came, and his pacific declaration was
treated with contemptuous silence. To say that he was not pleased at
this would but feebly express his feelings on the subject. Never before
had a message from an Ashanti king been received in such a contumelious
manner; the majority of the chiefs were of opinion that it was a
premeditated insult, and some went so far as to urge him to soothe his
wounded dignity by an appeal to arms. In fact had the Government been
desirous of war they could hardly have adopted a line of policy more
likely to have produced that result. Mensah, however, was sincerely
desirous of peace, and he despatched fresh messengers to Cape Coast,
who, as an appeal to the Government was thought to be useless, were
instructed to solicit the good offices of the traders, both European
and native, to place matters on a friendly footing between the colony
and Ashanti.
These messengers left Coomassie before the news of the Governor’s
arrival had reached there, and arrived at Cape Coast on March 10th.
They were four in number, and were named Osai Bruni, Yow Ewoah,
Quarmin Insia, and Dantando. Their arrival, and the object of
their mission, concerning which they made no secret, were at once
communicated to the Governor by the District-Commissioner, but they
were allowed to remain in the town unnoticed until the 13th, when they
of their own accord went over to Elmina. There they asked permission
to submit to the Governor the message that they intended to deliver to
the merchants. After further unnecessary delays they were allowed to
do so on March 16th, and were then informed that the Government had no
objection to their delivering such a message, but they must clearly
understand that this permission could not in any way affect any action
which the Government might afterwards think proper to take.
On March the 18th a meeting of traders was held at Cape Coast, and
the following was the message delivered--“The king sent us to come to
Prince Ansah and say ‘Let our family differences be at an end.’ He sent
us to Prince Ansah for him to take us to the merchants of Cape Coast
Castle for them to help the king, and say to the Governor that if he,
the king, had done anything wrong in the matter of the message with
the axe, that he, the king, asked that the Governor should pardon his
mistake.” They further declared that Mensah was willing to do anything
to maintain peace, and asked that a European officer might be sent
to Coomassie to see for himself that no preparations, either overt or
secret, for war were going on.
After this meeting of the mercantile classes the Ashanti messengers
again had an interview with the Governor, who told them that he had
nothing to do with the message they brought, that what the merchants
might have said was their own business, and that the words of the Queen
could only be sent to the king through the Governor. He then added that
they were to remember that the difficulty between the king and the
British Government had not yet been settled or cleared up in any way,
and dismissed them with the customary formalities.
The messengers started on the return journey on March 20th, and no
understanding between the Government and the king had been arrived at.
In fact matters had become further complicated, for the manner in which
these friendly overtures had been received could not be regarded in any
other light than as a rebuff, and the Governor’s concluding words could
only be construed as a thinly-veiled threat. European residents in the
Colony now began to regard the state of affairs as really serious, and
for the first time held the opinion of the departing envoys, that the
Governor, for some reason of his own, was bent upon forcing on a war.
FOOTNOTES:
[4] _i.e._ write a letter.
[5] To commit suicide “on the head” of a person means that the
intending suicide invokes the name of that person before putting an
end to his own life. The person whose name is thus invoked occupies,
according to local custom, exactly the same position as if he had
killed the suicide with his own hand, and is liable to be mulcted in
damages and subjected to all the extortions of a family “palaver.”
CHAPTER XIV.
Arrival of Reinforcements--Sanitary condition of Cape
Coast--Culpable neglect--Meeting of Chiefs--The Messengers from
Sefwhee--Expedition to the Bush--Its effect upon the Ashantis.
Upon the same day as that upon which the Ashanti messengers had their
interview with the traders of Cape Coast the hired-transport “Humber”
arrived with the Second West India regiment from the West Indies; so
that, in addition to the intelligence that their mission had been a
failure, the envoys were enabled to communicate to King Mensah the
unpleasant news of the arrival of fresh troops, which fact, of course,
could only tend to confirm him in the opinion he had formed, that an
invasion of Ashanti territory was intended. With the Second West India
regiment came Colonel W. C. Justice, who assumed command of the troops
in West Africa, and the advent of this reinforcement raised the total
force available for active service to about 1,200 men, consisting
of some 950 disciplined West India soldiers and 250 men of the
semi-disciplined Houssa Constabulary.
As there was no room for the new arrivals from the West Indies, either
in the Castle or in the huts at Connor’s Hill, they were quartered,
partly under canvas on the drill-ground to the west of the town and
partly in hired buildings in the town itself. In 1873 no troops were
put on shore until their services were actually required, and, when
so landed, great care was taken to provide them with camping-grounds,
or huts, far removed from the neighbourhood of native towns; and it
is much to be regretted that it was not possible to adopt similar
precautions on this occasion, for the amount of sickness which ensued
amongst the officers and men of the Second West India regiment
quartered in the town was appalling.
The town of Cape Coast is one of the most filthy and unhealthy known to
the civilized world. In 1872 we find Governor Hennessy thus writing of
it--“It was my disagreeable duty to tell the late Administrator that I
found the town of Cape Coast ... to be the most filthy and apparently
neglected place that I had ever seen under anything like a civilized
Government.” That description answers perfectly even at the present
day. After the Ashanti war of 1873-4 some attempts at improvement were
commenced during the administration of Governor Strahan; but on the
removal of the seat of government to Accra these were discontinued,
and the condition of the town is now as bad as ever. With a population
of some nine or ten thousand native inhabitants, addicted to the most
repulsive habits, Cape Coast does not possess any system of drainage,
or even the most primitive requirements of sanitation. Festering heaps
of pollution, and stagnant pools of foul water, lie among and around
the houses; while every by-street, passage, and open space, is used
by the natives as a place in which to deposit their offal and refuse.
The town can indeed boast of one surface-drain, built of masonry and
about a foot in breadth, which was originally intended to carry away
the water of a contaminated brook, and drain some plague-breeding
pools in the lower part of the town; but the genius of a colonial
engineer who constructed this colossal work in 1875 so planned it that
it stands some two feet above the level of the surrounding earth like
a wall; and as water in this part of the world has not yet acquired
the art of climbing up a vertical height it runs anywhere but where
it was intended to. Besides, after rain, this insignificant rivulet
becomes a stream three or four feet deep and several yards broad. The
fringe of bush all round the town is defiled to such an extent as to be
almost impassable, while to the east of the castle, and only 450 yards
distant from it, is a rock on which has been deposited the accumulated
corruption of years, and which, by local regulation, is still put to
the same use. With such surroundings it can be imagined that it avails
but little to keep the Castle, and buildings in actual occupation by
Europeans, in a proper sanitary condition.
In addition to all the foregoing increments to the natural healthiness
of the climate, droves of swine and goats wander about the town at
will, and at night share the interiors of the houses with the natives
and their fowls; and although an ordinance has been passed to put a
stop to this, and could easily be put in force, it is not so enforced,
upon the extraordinary ground that it would not be pleasing to the
natives. Either we govern the Gold Coast or we do not: if the latter
let us at once acknowledge the fact; but if the former, it is the
first duty of a Government to put a stop to practices prejudicial to
the common weal, irrespective of any consideration as to the result of
their action in gain or loss of popularity.
The following is an instance of how we manage matters in this part of
the world. In January 1879, while I was at Accra, an ordinance was put
into my hands, entitled the Towns, Police, and Health Ordinance, one
clause of which provided for the seizure and destruction of all pigs
and goats found at large, and for the punishment of their owners. I was
told it would come into force on February 1st of the same year, and
was desired to take all necessary measures. Accordingly I sent for the
principal chiefs and told them that from February 1st any such animals
found in the streets would be impounded and the owners fined; and that,
consequently, they must build styes or make enclosures, or adopt some
plan for keeping them confined. They did not like it, of course, for
your Gold Coast barbarian is the most conservative creature in the
world and would rather do almost anything than change old habits; but
they saw it had to be done, and on February 1st not a pig or goat was
to be seen at large. This happy state of things continued till February
3rd, when a high Colonial official came in from Christiansborg, and, in
the course of conversation, said that this ordinance, commonly known
as the Pig Ordinance, was not to be put in force. I asked why not; and
was told that the Government thought it would not do, that the people
would not like it, and there might be a disturbance. I replied that
it had actually been in force for three days, and that there had been
no difficulty at all; but it was of no use, and I had to send for the
chiefs and tell them that they could let their animals run loose again,
and of course the nuisance became as great as ever.
Thus at Cape Coast, as at Accra, a ridiculous fear of offending native
prejudices and losing popularity has prevented the Government from
enforcing sanitary regulations. The consequences of such a state of
things would be deplorable in a temperate and healthy climate; what
then must they be in a climate which is notoriously the worst in the
world? An instance of how this climate, when sanitary arrangements
are not made, affects Europeans, may be found in the case of the 104
Marines who were sent to the Gold Coast in 1873. Soon after their
arrival 63 per cent. were on the sick-list, and on July 31st the whole
detachment had to be sent home, having lost 18 out of their number,
or at the rate of 17·30 per cent. per six months. It is the opinion
of medical men, well qualified to judge, that nearly half the deaths
on the Gold Coast are caused by the shameful neglect of even the
most elementary sanitary principles, and if this be the fact, when
one remembers the hundreds of valuable lives that have there been
sacrificed, it must be acknowledged that successive Governors, who have
permitted this state of things to continue, have much to answer for.
Colonial officials endeavour to explain away this strange apathy on the
part of administrators by saying that the Colonial Office is so tired
of hearing the very name of the Gold Coast that that Governor is most
praiseworthy in its eyes who allows things to jog along quietly without
bother; and that, as the attempt to enforce sanitary measures would
cause trouble and expense, no one cares to make it. If this be the
true interpretation of the enigma then indeed the Colony is in a bad
case, as it is not sufficiently inviting to induce Governors who may,
through the possession of private means or influential position, be
independent of the office, to go out, and so the present condition of
affairs will continue. For my part, however, I am inclined to attribute
this policy of _laissez faire_ partly to the craving for popularity so
often exhibited by Governors, and partly to the fact that many of them
have risen to that position from subordinate posts on the Gold Coast,
and that their residence there, and years of use, have dulled the sense
of strangeness and disgust which a newcomer at once experiences.
On March 20th I was relieved from my command at Anamaboe, returning
to Cape Coast to take up some new duties, and next day I went over to
Elmina, where a meeting of the Executive Council was to be held, and
where Colonel Justice was to take the oaths and his seat as officer
commanding the troops.
From what occurred at that meeting it was evident that the Governor was
fully alive to the evil consequences that might ensue from his combined
policy of “masterly inaction” and ambiguous warnings, and that he was
also determined to continue in the same path. After the events that had
occurred had been recapitulated, a conversation took place amongst the
members of the Council, in the course of which the Lieutenant-Governor
exactly described the position by saying that the Ashantis had sent
a formal message and were awaiting a reply, but that the Governor
had thought it right to wait a little before giving his answers. He
then added that, in his opinion, the Governor was acting wisely. This
expression of opinion was, perhaps, what was to be expected from a
subordinate under the circumstances; but if it was his _bonâ fide_
opinion it is difficult to understand by what process of reasoning he
arrived at it. The longer the Governor delayed sending his reply the
longer the Colony would remain in an alarmed and unsettled state, and
the longer trade would remain at a standstill. Besides this there was
the danger of all communication between the king and the Government
ceasing, and of the Ashantis being driven into war through fear of our
aggression. These dangers were understood and pressed by the members of
the Council; Captain Hope asking if it would not now be better to send
a message up and conclude the matter; and Colonel Justice inquiring if
European officers might not be sent up to negociate. The Chief Justice
was of opinion that the Ashantis were thoroughly frightened, and wished
to do all in their power to avert war; that they seemed to believe that
we intended to take Coomassie, and that great care would have to be
taken to prevent them declaring war with a view to prevent an invasion.
All these sound reasonings and suggestions were, however, over-ruled
by the Governor, and the Council adjourned _sine die_, leaving the
conduct of negociations entirely in his hands.
Everybody well knew by this time that there was no prospect of a war
unless we took the initiative, and the well-known peace proclivities
of the political party then in office at home put that out of the
question. Universal astonishment, therefore, was felt when it was known
that on March 23rd the Governor had interviewed representatives from
different tribes and chiefs in the protectorate, and had asked what
contingent of fighting-men or carriers each could furnish. Apollonia,
Axim, Akim, Assin, Anamaboe, and Elmina, were represented, and the
delegates unanimously replied that all their men were fighting-men, and
that some consultation would be necessary before they could say how
many carriers they could furnish.
Two days after this meeting it was generally known that the Governor
intended visiting Accroful and Mansu, and an officer started for the
latter town with 145 Kroomen to prepare huts. Daily, after March 25th,
quantities of stores and materials were forwarded to Mansu, _viâ_
Effutu, a route which was chosen because it avoided the town of Cape
Coast, though it was longer than the ordinary one through that place;
and it was evident that a small expedition of some kind was being
prepared, concerning which the military were, for some unintelligible
reason, to be kept in the dark. In fact, when at this time Colonel
Justice informed the Governor that he proposed going, without an escort
and accompanied by only two officers, as far as Mansu to examine the
road, the latter wrote that the Ashantis knew everything that was going
on, that they fully understood the difference between civilians and
military, and that, in his opinion, such a visit as that proposed would
at once put the settlement of the difficulty beyond the possibility of
any other than a settlement to be brought about by a resort to military
force; yet all the time men and stores were being sent up country,
under the conduct of military officers, thinly disguised as civilians,
because they were temporarily in Colonial employ.
As, if the matter were finally to be settled peaceably, a palaver
would have to be held with the Ashantis either at Elmina, Cape Coast,
or Accra, it seemed an extraordinary proceeding for the Governor,
under existing circumstances, to go up country at all. As the
Ashantis knew everything that was going on they would know all about
the concentration of supplies, carriers, and Houssas at Mansu; and,
naturally inferring from this, and from the fact that no answer had
been returned to two peaceable messages, that the Government intended
to go to war and endeavour to crush them, they would sink all their
political differences in the face of a great national calamity, and
become once more a united people. Some said that the Governor was
going to meet the envoys, whom rumour said were coming down, but
such speakers forgot that that would be a most derogatory proceeding
on the part of an individual representing Her Majesty: others even
asserted that he intended, despite the well-known pacific tendencies
of the Home Government, to bring on a war for some purpose of his own.
Those, however, who had had the benefit of a former experience of the
Governor, knew that he was possessed of an uncontrollable mania for
playing at soldiers and commanding small expeditionary forces composed
of policemen and carriers, and that this was the real reason of the
proposed movement. So inopportune was the time he now selected for this
pastime that only by the merest chance, as we shall see later, did he
escape from rendering a peaceable solution of the Ashanti difficulty
impossible.
On March 27th forty Sefwhee messengers, with two state-swords, who
had arrived at Cape Coast on the previous day, had an interview with
the Governor at Elmina. It was said they asked for powder, lead, and
muskets, as they feared an immediate attack of the Ashantis; and two
of them afterwards informed us that a large Ashanti force had appeared
on their frontier near the point where the Ashanti territory abuts on
both that of Gaman and Sefwhee.
On April 4th the Governor left Elmina for Mansu, taking with him two
of the Elmina chiefs, Prince Ansah, and the Ashanti envoys, Enguie and
Busumburu, who had remained at Cape Coast ever since the commencement
of the palaver. On the 8th news reached Cape Coast privately that
an Ashanti embassy, the principal member of which was Prince Buaki,
husband of the queen-mother, had left Coomassie to sue for peace; but
the messenger who brought this intelligence added, that, on account of
news received from the coast, the embassy had suddenly stopped before
reaching the northern frontier of Adansi. This report, coming so soon
after that of the Sefwhees, seemed to foreshadow a new departure on the
part of the king, and many people began to think that we should have a
war after all.
What was really occurring in Coomassie may now be told. We have seen
that Mensah, despairing of receiving any consideration at the hands
of, or an answer from, the Government, had despatched messengers to
solicit the intervention of the traders; that these had not succeeded
in effecting anything, but had witnessed the arrival of the Second
West India regiment from the West Indies. When these men returned to
Coomassie with their intelligence, Mensah was thrown into a condition
of extreme perplexity: both his peaceable message to the Government
and his appeal to the traders had been alike ineffectual, and,
notwithstanding his repeated pacific overtures, he heard of nothing but
the landing of troops and preparations for war. With Ansah, Enguie,
and Busumburu at Cape Coast, he was kept fully informed concerning
everything that was occurring, and messengers passed backwards and
forwards between the sea-board and Coomassie almost daily. The news
of the meeting of his ancient foes at Elmina on March 23rd, and the
purpose for which this meeting was convened, was at once conveyed to
him; next he heard of the departure of Houssas and carriers with stores
for Mansu, of the preparations going on at that place, and of the depôt
being formed there; and there seemed a consecutiveness in all that
had happened since the arrival of the Governor, beginning with the
contemptuous silence with which his message was treated, which could
only point to the one conclusion that the British had fully made up
their minds to invade Ashanti and overthrow the kingdom. An important
palaver was accordingly held at Coomassie, at which every chief of note
in the nation was present; and the result was that every difference
of opinion amongst themselves was at once put aside, and it was
unanimously agreed to defend every foot of Ashanti soil from invasion.
Mensah was desirous of making one more effort in the cause of peace,
and after some discussion it was decided, not without much opposition,
to send an embassy, consisting of deputies from every district of
Ashanti, with Prince Buaki at their head, to endeavour to arrange
matters with the Colonial Government; while, in accordance with the
decision at which they had arrived not to tamely submit to invasion,
from 12 to 15,000 men of the Bantama district were called out and sent
to Amoaful to watch the approaches to the capital, and arrangements
were made for the immediate calling-out of the whole army in case of
emergency. Thus we see that the first mobilisation took place long
after the downfall of the war-party, that it was intended solely for
defence, and was caused by the very natural construction which the king
and his chiefs placed upon the events occurring in the Colony.
Prince Buaki and the deputies left Coomassie on April 3rd, and had
arrived at the village of Akankuassi when a messenger overtook them
with instructions from the king to stop. What was the cause of this
sudden change in the original plan decided upon by the entire nation
in council? News had been brought to Coomassie that the men and
stores, which had been collected at Mansu by the Colonial Government,
were beginning to be moved on to Prahsu. The king, conceiving that the
Government was fully determined on war, thought that the next move
would be from Prahsu to the Adansi territory, perhaps to the Adansi
hills; and, concluding that it would be useless to make any further
overtures for peace, he stopped the embassy, so as to spare his dignity
as much as possible, and prepared to exhaust all the resources of the
kingdom in a struggle which he foresaw would be for very existence.
So far this was the result of the Governor’s bush expedition, and it
was a result which had been very generally expected. Captain Hope
in a letter to the Admiralty, dated Elmina, April 3rd, said:--“The
expedition of the Governor is, in the opinion of some people,
calculated to arouse their suspicion of us, as, although of course
strictly within our territory, it is on the road to Coomassie, and
might be looked on as an advanced guard.... Active precautionary
measures have by no means ceased, in fact a general feeling of
uneasiness is springing up, probably due to the protracted negociations
going on.” The Home Government too were not quite easy in their minds
as to what the consequences of their agent’s action might be, for
in a despatch from Lord Kimberley, dated April 29th, we find these
words:--“The remarks of the Chief Justice, that he had heard at Accra
that the Ashantis seemed to believe that the white men intended to take
Coomassie, and that great care should be taken to prevent them from
being driven into war through fear of our aggression, appear to me to
deserve careful attention. It would be lamentable if a collision were
to arise from any misunderstanding of this kind, and I have no doubt
that you will take every means to remove from the mind of the Ashanti
king any apprehension which he may entertain of an aggressive movement
on our part.”
At the time of writing that despatch Lord Kimberley little knew how
very nearly his worst fears had been realised, and that the Governor,
instead of taking every means to remove apprehension from the mind of
the king, had done everything calculated to increase it.
CHAPTER XV.
A Trip to Prahsu--Mansu--A Fiendish _Réveille_--Bush
Travelling--Prahsu--The King of Adansi--Masquerading Costumes--The
Camp--Strength of the Expedition.
On April 11th Colonel Justice, Lieutenant D. M. Allen (Acting
Engineer), a Commissariat officer, and myself, started from Cape Coast
about 5 a.m. in hammocks for Mansu, where we had heard the Governor
was. Shortly after noon we reached Accroful, 13¾ miles from Cape Coast,
where the road from Effutu joins the main road; and there we found
Captain Lonsdale, the late Commandant of the Lonsdale’s Horse of the
Zulu war, holding a palaver with the king of Abrah, from Abracampa. His
object was to obtain five hundred carriers to transport a frame-house
from Elmina to Mansu for the accommodation of the Governor, and we
inferred from this that the latter intended making a lengthened sojourn
in the bush. We halted for an hour at the house of the local mission
preacher, which was, as usual, the best in the village, and then pushed
on to Dunquah, where we stayed for the night.
Next morning we were off again at daybreak, and, after a three hours’
halt at Inkrau during the hottest part of the day, reached Mansu,
35½ miles from Cape Coast, at 4·30 p.m. On our arrival we found that
the Governor with all his following had gone on to Prahsu, to which
place it was decided we should follow, and the village would have
been entirely deserted but for an officer of the constabulary, who
had arrived the day before from Elmina _viâ_ Effutu, with some 70
Houssas, and who was waiting to rest his men. The native inhabitants
had all been ejected from their dwellings, which, after a little
preliminary cleaning, had been appropriated by the officers who formed
the Governor’s retinue; traces of whose stay were still existing
in the piles of beer and brandy bottles, and in the ridiculous and
inappropriate names, such as “Rose Villa,” which were daubed on the
swish-walls of the houses. In the centre of the town was a large shed,
built of bamboo and palm-leaves, and open at the sides: this was called
the Palaver House, and had been erected in the anticipation of the
Governor here meeting the Ashanti envoys; but, as they had not arrived,
it seemed that no palaver would be held here after all, and the rows of
bamboo seats for the retinue, with a bamboo throne for His Excellency,
flanked by more lowly seats for his immediate satellites, were doomed
to waste their sweetness unused. We had the honour of occupying the
gubernatorial residence, which was an ordinary swish-hut, to one side
of which an appendage like a gigantic birdcage had been added, which,
while it kept the vulgar herd at a respectful distance, permitted of
their gazing through the bars at royalty within, in much the same
manner as the British public would gaze at a new and strange beast in
the gardens of the Zoological Society at Regent’s Park.
Next morning, shortly after 4 a.m., we were wakened from a sound sleep
by the roll of drums and the shrieking of half-a-dozen fifes: it was
the Houssa “band” playing an untimely _réveille_. They were supposed
to be playing that old point of war which begins “Old Father Paul came
from the Holy Land,” but their acquaintance with it was limited to the
first two bars, which they repeated over and over again. As the sound
first penetrated our half-awakened senses we tried to keep it out and
go to sleep again; then, finding that that was useless, we waited in
expectancy for them to go on with the rest of the tune, and after
the first two bars had been played over and over again for about ten
minutes we were in a very fair state of nervous excitement. Soon the
effect of this began to grow irritating; we commenced saying “Tum tumti
tumti, tumti tumti tum,” to ourselves time after time; then we tried
to shake that off and count; but we counted the thing ten, fifteen,
twenty, thirty times, and still the infernal tum tumti tum went on in
the same endless monotony, while we dressed by fits and starts in the
dark, hoping and praying that the Houssas would either go on to the
next bar or leave off altogether. The torture rapidly grew worse and
worse: it seemed to rake up all our nerves, and every repetition went
through us like a galvanic shock, while we could not go and implore
the Constabulary officer to put a stop to it because we knew that it
was as balm and consolation to his wounded military spirit. We tried
to give our minds to other subjects, but it was out of the question,
and conversation was impossible; our eyes became wild, our brows
haggard, and we were rapidly approaching a state of frenzy, when, after
half-an-hour’s torture, we fled from the demoniacal sounds. We passed
the Houssas, marching up and down outside our habitation, blowing away
vigorously with their cheeks distended to their utmost capacity, with
our fingers in our ears, and rushed off into the damp forest path. What
a universal sigh of relief we gave when we were out of hearing, but the
diabolic rhythm went on in our minds long after that, and by 10 a.m.
one of our number was down with fever. If any one should think that
our nerves were unduly sensitive, let him get somebody to play on the
piano, for half-an-hour without a single pause,
[Illustration: Music]
and then see how he feels at the end of the performance.
We crossed the Oki river by a felled silk-cotton tree, and stopped
at Sutah, or, as the natives call it, Fittah, in the middle of the
day for breakfast; after which epicurean meal Colonel Justice and the
Commissariat officer went on, while I waited for the invalid, who, as
he knew how to treat himself, would be able to go on as soon as the sun
lost its force. About 4·30 p.m. he was pretty well and we started off;
the sunlight faded imperceptibly into moonlight, and with no casualties
worse than occasionally staking ourselves on the stumps of trees left
standing from three to four feet high in the middle of the path, we
reached Yancoomassie Assin about 9 p.m.
Through our delay at Sutah I made a discovery as to which portion
of the twenty-four hours is the most suitable for travelling in the
bush. As travelling during the heat of the day renders one liable to
“touches” of the sun and heat apoplexy, most Europeans in West Africa
who have to go anywhere start at an unearthly hour in the morning,
before it is light, and then go on until ten or eleven o’clock, when
they breakfast. In my opinion this is a mistake. All night long a heavy
dew has been falling, and as you walk, or are carried along, showers
of dew-drops fall upon you from the overhanging trees, sufficiently
heavy to make you wet and give you a chill; then, as the sun begins
to gain power, all kinds of exhalations and noisome vapours rise from
the rank and wet vegetation, and various overpowering stenches salute
the olfactory nerves, while for the last two hours of your journey you
are baked in your hammock. Now none of these things are conducive to
health in such a climate as that of West Africa, and they might all be
avoided by travelling, say from 4 p.m. to 9 p.m., when the sun has been
drying the forest all day and drawing up the miasma, while no dew to
speak of has begun to fall. Should there be no moon, a native torch,
made of dry palm-stems, can be manufactured anywhere in a few minutes;
and the only objection I have ever heard urged against choosing this
time for journeying is that it is not pleasant to enter a village,
and have to choose a hut to sleep in and prepare the evening meal, so
late; but this is easily reduced to a _minimum_ by sending on your
boys an hour ahead of you to prepare for your arrival. It is not as
if there was anything to be seen during a trip to the bush, for few
people, who have not experienced it, can understand the loathing with
which one regards the endless monotony of the forest, through the dense
rank vegetation of which one moves on day after day, as if between two
lofty walls of foliage, without seeing a single glade or break in the
sameness. Of course I refer here to the feeling of those accustomed to
the country, for to a newcomer there is a certain amount of novelty,
and consequently interest, in such scenes.
The number of villages which have sprung up along the Prah road
since the close of the last war is surprising, and evinces a feeling
of security on the part of the natives of which their minds would
have been sadly disabused had the Ashantis followed up their hostile
declaration by vigorous action. All these might, from a negro point of
view, be described as thriving, as a few acres of ground round each
had been cultivated, and some of them could boast of considerable
plantations of plantains; but of course very little more is grown than
is actually required for the inhabitants themselves. Passing through
a village one is again immediately swallowed up in the mantle of the
forest for an hour or so, until another group of huts relieves the
eye like an oasis in a vast vegetable desert. Water abounds, and the
fertility of the soil is marvellous; inhabited by any other race of
man this country would surpass the whole world in agricultural wealth,
but, as it is, it is lost to mankind, and there is every probability of
its remaining so, as it is hopeless to endeavour to induce a negro to
work. If some energetic Governor would only introduce sanitary reform
and Chinese labour, the Gold Coast would soon become very different to
what it now is; but the motto of all previous administrators, except
perhaps Governor Maclean, seems to have been “_Apres moi le déluge_.”
We left Yancoomassie Assin about five in the morning of the 14th, and,
breakfasting at Barraco at noon, approached Prahsu about 4 p.m. As we
drew near we could hear the “boom boom” of trade muskets keeping a
straggling fusillade ahead of us, and the hammock-men began to grow
nervous, while our servants commenced complaining because we had not
allowed them to bring rifles with them. We had not the remotest idea
of what was taking place, but as no reports of rifles were heard in
reply we concluded it was nothing of hostile import, although a Houssa
sergeant whom we met informed us that it was Ashantis who were firing.
Passing through a gap in the fence which inclosed the camp we found
the men of the Houssa Constabulary drawn up in two lines, facing each
other, as if waiting as a guard of honour for somebody; though as there
were very few men, only about ninety in all, an interval of five or six
yards had been left between every two men, so that they might take up
more ground and make a more imposing show. We thought at first that it
was a polite attention on the part of the Governor, and that these men
were drawn up to receive the officer commanding the troops, but we
soon found out our mistake; they were paraded for the reception of that
omnipotent African potentate the king of Adansi, who was now crossing
the river, and the reports of whose retainers’ muskets we had been
hearing.
About an hour after our arrival the king and his followers crossed the
river in safety, and, entering the camp, proceeded between the two
so-called lines of Houssas towards a bamboo and palm-leaf palaver-shed
which had been erected in the centre of the camp. Altogether there
were one hundred and fifty of them, consisting of the king, chiefs,
and dependents, fifty of the latter carrying muskets, and the rest the
usual barbaric state utensils, viz., swords, umbrellas, pipes, stools,
fans, fly-whisks, and chairs covered with brass nails. There was not so
much native goldsmiths’ work exhibited as is usual on such occasions,
and the silk of the tent-like state umbrella was very dirty and much
torn, which seemed to denote that his majesty’s exchequer was not in a
flourishing condition.
I thought I might as well hear what would be said, so I walked towards
the shed, where I found the Governor’s retinue sitting placidly upon
rum-kegs, which were standing on end, placed in rows behind a Madeira
chair intended to support His Excellency’s frame. The Adansi rabble
faced this at a little distance, while to the left were Enguie,
Busumburu, and the Elmina chiefs, who had come up from the coast
to swell the official following. I shook hands with a few friends,
appropriated a rum-keg, and sat down too. Presently a whisper ran
through the retinue, and all stood up with blanched faces and uncovered
heads, and gazed with an aspect of the most profound respect towards a
little dwelling of sticks to which our backs had been turned. I looked
round to see what was the cause of all this apprehension, and perceived
the Governor coming slowly towards us, supported by his favourite
disciples.
These, two in number, and the Governor himself, were attired in
eccentric costumes, which formed a curious contrast to the ordinary
garments of civilisation worn by the rest of the Europeans present;
and they somehow reminded me, first, of the three tutelary deities
of pantomime, Messrs. clown, harlequin, and pantaloon, and then, on
further reflection, of the three Graces. His Excellency wore a blue
Norfolk jacket, garnished with a medal and star, and immense scarlet
trousers, tucked into long yellow boots, reaching nearly to the knee,
and furnished with large brass spurs, which are, in West Africa, so
exceedingly useful for goading the stubborn hammocks to increased
speed. Wound round his helmet was a fragment of a gaudy Cashmere shawl,
and one obsequious attendant held an umbrella over the august head,
while another flourished a horse-tail to drive away the impertinent
radical flies. On the right hand, but at a respectful distance from
his chief, marched the principal satellite, attired in an eccentric
costume of grey, adorned with much braid, which reminded me forcibly
of those grotesque uniforms in which, in the early days of the
volunteer movement, martial men-milliners astonished the public and
gave full scope to their genius. On the left hand stalked the secondary
satellite, clothed in an antique scarlet patrol-jacket, upon which gold
lace had been scattered with a wild and lavish hand; while the tight
blue trousers, also embellished with gold lace, came to a tasteful and
appropriate termination in the recesses of long Wellington boots.
I looked at the two Ashanti envoys, Enguie and Busumburu, who, having
resided at Cape Coast for some weeks, would know that Europeans did not
usually attire themselves in such gorgeous apparel, to see what they
thought of this masquerade. The courteous Busumburu in vain tried to
conceal a smile under a well-dissembled cough, while the sneer which
disfigured the countenance of the truculent Enguie made it appear more
repellent than ever. As for the Elminas, they smiled at each other but
said nothing, for such vagaries as this had caused the Governor to be
known at Elmina by the appellation of the Bush Chief; but with the
Adansis the magnificent display seemed to go down pretty well, though
of course they would be set right, after the palaver, by those who knew
all about such things.
Waving his majestic hand condescendingly to the crowd of cringing
and awe-stricken courtiers, His Excellency took his seat, and, in
case any malign spirit of evil should direct a waning sunbeam at the
gubernatorial head through the thick roof of palm-leaves, the umbrella
was still kept in requisition, while the fly-whisk was plied more
energetically than ever. To my great disappointment, after all this
preparation and excitement, there was no palaver at all; the usual
salutations, hand-shakings, and compliments, were gone through, and
then the Governor told the Adansi king that as it was getting rather
late he would hear next day what he had to say.
The camp at Prahsu occupied exactly the same site as did the old one
of 1873; there was a rough fence, or rather hedge, like what is known
in some colonies as a stump hedge, bounding three sides of it, while
the fourth was bordered by the river. The inclosed space, about 300
yards by 120 yards, was covered with a number of wretched huts made
of bamboo and palm-leaves, the flimsy roofs of which afforded no
protection either from rain or sun, while the walls afforded about as
much concealment and privacy to the inmates as does a birdcage to its
tenant. The larger sheds were for the accommodation of the European
officers, though better shelter was to be found in the poorest village
on the road, and scores of little “lean-to” habitations, made of
brushwood and palm, were dotted about for the use of the labourers,
Kroomen, Crepes, and Fantis, some eight hundred of whom were in
camp. The Acting-Engineer and I fortunately obtained possession of a
bell-tent (which had evidently been pitched by an amateur), and so had
a better protection overhead than that afforded by the gridiron-like
roofs of the huts; some Houssas knocked up a bed of palm-sticks in a
few minutes, and we made ourselves as comfortable as circumstances
would permit.
Strange to say, although the Colonial officer still pretended that
hostilities were possible, if not probable, no measures had been taken
for defending the camp in the event of an attack; there was not even
a shelter-trench along the river bank, and, as for the stump-hedge on
the other sides, that formed no obstacle, and could be passed through
at any point that one chose. The further bank of the river had not
been occupied by us, yet no attempt had been made to clear the bush
immediately opposite the camp; and, as dense forest grew down to the
edge of the water, an enemy could easily line the bank unseen, and,
the river being only 189 feet broad, bring such a fire to bear upon the
camp as would make it perfectly untenable. It was easy to see that the
expedition was under the management of an amateur in military matters,
and it was an exceedingly fortunate thing for all composing it that the
Ashantis were so peaceably inclined.
In the evening I sought for relics of the last expedition. There were
not many left. The bridge had totally disappeared, and a dilapidated
pontoon, with the inclosed grave of Captain Huyshe, were the only
vestiges of our former occupation of this site.
The total force of the expedition in the camp, I learned, was 899,
consisting of 13 European officers, 107 Houssas, 59 clerks and
servants, 9 Sierra Leone police, 173 native chiefs and followers, and
the remainder carriers. Taken as a whole it formed an imposing display,
and was quite sufficient to confirm the Ashantis in their impression
that it was the advanced guard of some large expeditionary force.
CHAPTER XVI.
Regulating the Sun--Arrival of the Ashanti Embassy--The
Palaver--Ciceronian Eloquence--A Diplomatic Fiction--A beautiful
simile--Physiognomies--Unhealthiness of the Camp.
Next morning I was awakened by a loud detonation, the echoes of which
had scarcely died away when I heard a voice shout “His Excellency
has arisen.” This important declaration was at once followed by the
_réveille_, played by four separate bugles in different parts of the
camp; and, as I knew that there were not four corps in the encampment
over night, I thought troops must have unexpectedly arrived, and
so went hurriedly out of my tent to ascertain. I found that we had
received no sudden accession to our strength: one bugler was blowing on
behalf of the Houssa Constabulary, another for the half-dozen Sierra
Leone policemen whom the Governor had brought with him, a third for the
three or four Fanti police who were at Prahsu, and a fourth for the
Kroo labourers. As the area of the camp was rather circumscribed of
course one bugle would have been quite sufficient, but then how much
glowing military ardour would have been lost for want of use.
I next proceeded to find out the cause of the explosion and the
shouting which I had heard. I learned that every morning, directly
His Excellency stepped out of bed, a small cohorn mortar, which stood
in front of his residence, was fired, an attendant exclaimed for the
benefit of the uninitiated, “His Excellency has arisen,” the hour was
made five o’clock, and everybody set their watches right. Thus, in
addition to his many multifarious duties, the Governor daily undertook
the arduous and god-like task of regulating the sun.
At noon the Governor, followed by the Adansi chiefs, went out into the
bush, from which they returned about half-past three, and at four the
promised palaver took place in the palaver-shed. It consisted merely of
the exchange of a few complimentary sentences, and was in fact a dummy
palaver, held for the benefit of the public, as His Excellency had had
two hours of conversation with the Adansi king in the bush, and had
transacted all the real business there.
At about seven o’clock on the morning of the 16th Ashanti messengers
arrived on the further bank of the Prah, and, shortly after noon, the
Ashanti embassy, consisting of Prince Buaki-tchin-tchin, and delegates
from some of the principal districts of the Ashanti kingdom, crossed
the river amid great beating of drums and blowing of elephant-tusk
horns. Shortly before five the Ashantis, some two hundred and sixty
in number, came in procession through the camp, where the Houssas were
drawn up for their reception, in the same way as on the occasion of the
entry of the king of Adansi, only, as those that we had met at Mansu
had since come up, there were now more of them; while to swell the
martial pageant all the six hundred labourers were drawn up in line
near the palaver-shed with their various implements, those who had old
cutlasses for cutting bush being placed in the front, and those with
spades and pick-axes more in the rear. Each Ashanti chief or deputy
walked under his umbrella, or was carried in his chair on the heads
of his slaves, and was followed by his own retainers parading their
different insignia; and the whole body proceeded to the palaver-shed
and sat down.
At five the Governor made his appearance, attired in the same singular
manner as before, and walked to his seat through a lane of obsequious
and bowing officials, supported by his two satellites of grotesque
appearance. One of the retinue said to me in a stage whisper:--
“His Excellency is a remarkably fine speaker. Listen carefully now, for
you will hear some wonderful oratory.”
I said--“Oh! really.”
“Yes--the political leaders at home might well learn a thing or two
from him. He especially prides himself upon his manner of addressing
natives, who, as of course you know, are themselves excellent orators,
and avoid tautology and all such errors.”
I accordingly took out my note-book and put down every word that fell
from the august lips. The following is what I wrote: it did not seem to
impress the natives much, but then no doubt it was like casting pearls
before swine; the retinue listened to each word with rapt attention,
and subdued and respectful murmurs of applause greeted each fresh
exhibition of rhetorical eloquence, which they considered worthy of a
combined Cicero and Demosthenes.
Prince Buaki rose and said:--
“I give my compliments to His Excellency.”
_Rowe._ “I am glad to see you here. It is always a pleasure for the
Government of the Gold Coast to receive an envoy from the king of
Ashanti. You do not meet me at home, but out here in the bush; but as
you meet me here on your journey you are welcome. I hope your journey
has been fairly comfortable.”
_Buaki._ “Yes, it was comfortable.”
_Rowe._ “I hope you have not had rain on the way.”
_Buaki._ “No.”
_Rowe._ “I am glad to hear that, for rain makes the roads bad in this
country. I don’t think we can hope to have fine weather long. What do
you think?”
_Buaki._ “I think so too.”
_Rowe._ “I hope it will not come on for a few days more; it is not
nice to have rain. I hope you found your people well that were left
behind.”[6]
_Buaki._ “Yes, they are well.”
_Rowe._ “They have come here from Cape Coast. They travel in the bush
more comfortably than I do.”
_Buaki._ “Just so.”
_Rowe._ “We may look for rain in about three months I suppose. How many
months? Two, or three?”
_Buaki._ “Yes.”
_Rowe._ “During that time any one who has a house stops in it.”
_Buaki._ “Yes.”
_Rowe._ “I don’t like to be caught by rain in the bush. I don’t mind
being here in the bush when it is fine. I’m afraid I can’t do much here
to make you comfortable.”
_Buaki._ “I quite understand that.”
_Rowe._ “Still I am glad to see you, and, as far as I can, I will do my
best for you.”
(A pause, and Buaki asks permission to speak.)
_Buaki._ “Your Excellency’s friend, the king of Ashanti, sent me to
see you. While on the road I and my followers were taken sick, so that
I had to delay coming down till we were well. I met the sword-bearer,
Yow Mensah, at Yan Compene, who told me that you were waiting for me,
and I sent him back to say I was coming. I am sorry I did not meet you
at home, but I was ill by the way. I wish to know what time you will
appoint for the business on which I have come.”
_Rowe._ “With regard to that I must see how long it will be necessary
to remain here, and then I shall have an opportunity of seeing about
the matter we have to talk over.”
_Buaki._ “Very good.”
_Rowe._ “It is always a pleasure, and has been as I know for many
years, to the English Government of the Gold Coast to receive
messengers from the king of Ashanti when they are sent. What I am now
going to say has no bearing on the point, but, as you have come to me
as a special messenger from your king, and as I have already said that
I am glad to meet you with a message from your king, I am going to say
to you what I said to the former ambassadors, before your arrival. That
is: the message I bring with me from the Queen of England is a message
of peace, that I am to govern her people, and whilst I am to govern
them I am to defend them, and take care of them, and have authority
over them. I am also to live on friendly terms with her people.” (To
this the interpreter added:--“The Queen is ready for peace or war,
whichever you like.”)
_Buaki._ “I have come down to stop all those small leaks in the roof
which have been giving trouble of late. If I cannot do this, we must
have a new roof.” (The interpreter rendered this--“I also have come for
peace.”)
_Rowe._ “I will think over the business I have to do in this part, and
then I will arrange when and where I can assemble the officers of the
Government who are fitting to be present when this matter is discussed.
As I said before, the rain is coming. I hope you did not suffer from
the rain.”
_Buaki._ “I did not.”
_Rowe._ “I hope all your people are well.”
_Buaki._ “They are all well. I thank you for the care you have taken of
my people.”
_Rowe._ “I am glad they gave me a good name to you. I hope you found
the road fairly comfortable?”
_Buaki._ “I was very comfortable on the road. I am sorry that my
sickness prevented my meeting you at home.”
_Rowe._ “I hope you will be well soon, and I hope you are not in a
hurry to go home. You may feel a little tired after your journey and
may want rest.”
The palaver then terminated.
The sickness of which Buaki spoke was only a diplomatic fiction, and
in speaking of the sword-bearer, Yow Mensah, he unwittingly let a cat
out of the bag which the Governor would have much preferred keeping
in confinement. As we have seen, the embassy left Coomassie on April
6th, but only arrived at Prahsu on the 16th. Now Buaki well knew
that no one would believe that eleven days were required to traverse
the seventy-three miles of actual distance from the capital to the
river, and not wishing, in the interests of his mission, to inform the
Governor of what had really taken place, and let him know how nearly
he had made war inevitable, he started the story of having been ill to
account for the delay, which, as I have already shown, was caused by
Mensah’s order. The Governor had somehow gained an inkling of what was
really happening in Ashanti, and, to use the words of a high Colonial
official of much experience, seeing that it was no time for further
buffoonery, and that peace and war were trembling in the balance,
he gave up his supposed dignified attitude of reserve, and, taking
the initiative himself, sent Yow Mensah to the envoys to say he was
waiting for them.[7] Of course they then came on at once, just as
another embassy would have come in response, if at any time after the
Governor’s arrival in the Colony a similar message had been sent. Since
the Governor had after all to re-open communications himself, it is a
pity that he did not do so earlier, instead of keeping the whole Colony
in suspense; and if he had not been so fortunate as to hear of what was
taking place, and so had not sent the sword-bearer on, it is impossible
to say where the mischief would have ended. This narrow escape from
hostilities only shows how exceedingly dangerous it is to indulge in
any ambiguous action where barbarous races are concerned.
At the termination of the palaver, Buaki and his followers rose and
walked round the shed, shaking hands in turn with every European
present. As Buaki repeated this ceremony with the Governor, the latter
said, through the medium of the interpreter:--
“You see I am not a mud-fish.”
One of the retinue immediately nudged me and said:--
“There! Did you hear that?”
I replied “Yes.”
“Ah! it’s a beautiful simile, now, isn’t it?”
I said “I don’t quite see how.”
“What? You don’t see it?”
“No.”
“That’s strange. You’ve been acquainted with the Coast a long time,
too. Well, the mud-fish is a stupid kind of fish, that, instead of
trying to escape, buries itself in the mud, and allows itself to be
easily caught by the hand. The Governor used the expression to mean
that he wasn’t a fool.”
About ten minutes afterwards one of the innumerable secretaries
remarked to me:--
“Did you catch that wonderful simile of His Excellency’s about the
mud-fish?”
“Oh! yes,” I replied.
“You know what it means, of course?”
“Yes; the mud-fish is a stupid kind of fish that, instead of trying to
escape, buries itself in the mud and allows itself to be easily caught
by the hand. The Governor used the illustration to mean that he wasn’t
a fool.”
“Oh dear no. You’re quite wrong. I’ll tell you what it is. The mud-fish
is a cunning kind of fish which, when pursued, stirs up the mud all
round, to make the water thick, so that it can’t be seen. The Governor
said that he wasn’t a mud-fish, meaning that he had no necessity for
hiding his whereabouts.”
This man had hardly moved away before another came up to me, and said:--
“What did you think of His Excellency’s simile of the mud-fish?”
“Oh! I didn’t think much of it.”
“What!! You didn’t think much of that marvellous simile? Why not?”
“Because nobody seems to know what it means.”
“Well, I know, and I will tell you what it means--it is most ingenious.
The mud-fish is a fish covered with venomous spines, which cause nasty
wounds if you happen to touch them. The Governor said he was not a
mud-fish, to re-assure Buaki, and let him know that he was not going to
hurt him.”
In the evening a high Colonial official said to me:--
“A pretty simile that of the Governor’s about the mud-fish, wasn’t it?”
“Yes; but its meaning doesn’t seem very clear.”
“Doesn’t seem very clear? Why, my dear fellow, it is patent to the
meanest intellect. The mud-fish is a worthless kind of fish that nobody
would take the trouble to catch: the Governor used the comparison to
mean that he was somebody of importance.”
I have not made up my mind which of these interpretations to adopt; the
reader can take any one he likes, but it seems to me that there is a
good deal of haze about the subject.
The Ashantis, like the Adansis who had arrived on the 14th, were
accommodated with exceedingly airy sheds in the camp, and this
accession to our numbers brought up the sum-total of occupants to
something over a thousand. The envoys had brought with them two or
three small, but apparently heavy, boxes, and these were supposed
to contain gold dust, which the king had sent as an earnest of his
desire for peace. Prince Buaki was a fine-looking man over six feet in
height; I had known beforehand that he must be a handsome man, since
the ladies of the blood-royal in Ashanti are only allowed to form
connections with strikingly presentable men, so that, as the female
branches take precedence of the male in furnishing heirs to the throne,
the comeliness of their kings may be, as far as possible, assured; but
I was not prepared to see such an unusually good specimen of the negro
race. I was much struck too with the wonderful difference between the
physiognomies of the chiefs and those of their followers and slaves, a
difference which is barely perceptible among the tribes who have long
been subject to us, such as the Fanti; but which, among the independent
inland races, the most careless observer cannot help noticing. The
chiefs have almost invariably a look of intelligence, and are generally
of a fine physique; but the retainers and slaves possess features and
characteristics of a very low type indeed. This of course is chiefly
due to the principle of selection, as, for generations past, the
chiefs, who are able to pick and choose, have selected the best-looking
women for their wives, while the vulgar herd have had to take what
they can get. On the sea-board this has been done also, but there the
formation of an intermediate trading-class of natives, between the
chiefs and the lower orders, has blended by imperceptible gradations
the distinguishing characteristics of the two extremes. It is worthy of
notice that the women whom the chiefs choose are those who, according
to European ideas, possess the largest share of good looks; which goes
far to prove that we have a common ideal of beauty, and that, in spite
of the popular belief, negroes do not regard mountainous cheek bones,
flattened noses, uptilted nostrils, and blubber lips, as the true types
of loveliness.
The following Ashantis of note were in the suite of Prince Buaki. Yow
Badoo, personal attendant of the king, Yeboa, representative of the
royal family of Ashanti, two sons of the late King Quaco Duah, and
the brother and son of Prince Buaki. The chiefs of Becquai, Mampon,
Kokofuah, and Insuta, each sent a representative, as did Awooah, chief
of Bantama, the Ashanti general; the remainder of the embassy consisted
of the usual personal attendants, with a sword-bearer and four
courtiers. The districts of Archwa, Assomyah, Denyasi, Inquantansi,
and Inquaransah, were unrepresented: the last-named is one of the most
important in the Ashanti kingdom, and, next to Kokofuah, furnishes the
largest contingent for the army. A representative from the Amoaful
district arrived in the camp next day.
As the kingdom of Ashanti is divided into ten large districts, it is
clear that the embassy represented only half the nation, which in fact
was to be expected, and as at least three of the districts represented,
namely, Becquai, Bantama, and Amoaful, had originally been amongst the
foremost of those forming the war-party, and had only been persuaded to
remain passive through the king’s personal influence, the prevailing
state of feeling in Ashanti could be very fairly guaged. Indeed,
looking at the vast preponderance of the “war” over the “court” party
it is a matter for surprise that Mensah should have been able to bring
the difficulty to an amicable settlement, and this difficulty was by
no means lessened by the fact that Prince Buaki himself was strongly
in favour of hostilities. That the king’s task was further made more
onerous by the extraordinary action of the Colonial Government I have
already shown.
The day after the meeting between Sir Samuel Rowe and the Ashanti
envoys it was made known that in a few days the camp would be broken
up, and that all its occupants,--officers, labourers, carriers,
police, Adansis, and Ashantis,--would proceed to Elmina, where a final
palaver was to be held to settle the Ashanti question. As the Governor
now said that he had all along intended settling the matter on the
sea-board, either at Acra, Cape Coast, or Elmina, his bush expedition
only seemed the more extraordinary; as, apart from the political evil
consequences that resulted from it, and the great expense to which the
Colony had been put to no purpose, by being compelled to provide for
an army of labourers and hammock-men, and to defray the extra cost
of bush-life, he had, as it seemed, without any reasonable cause,
imperilled the healths, if not the lives, of a number of European
officers, by encamping them, without proper shelter or comforts, on the
banks of the miasmatic Prah.
Fortunately the rains had not set in as early as usual, but Prahsu was
quite sufficiently unhealthy for all ordinary purposes: after dark, a
cold, wet, white mist shrouded every object, and to venture outside
one’s tent at night was to become saturated with moisture and chilled
to the bone. Had the rains set in the consequences would have been most
disastrous, as, if the river had overflown its banks ever so slightly,
the camp would have been inundated, while the wretched habitations that
had been provided would not have kept out a smart shower, much less a
heavy tropical downpour. Sometimes the mist was so dense that, standing
on one bank, one could not see across the river, and the muddy flood
rolled on under its mantle of vapour, as under a shroud through the
rifts of which the moonbeams faintly struggled in a deathly silence,
broken only now and then by the weird cries of the tree-sloth, which,
to a fanciful mind, might sound like the wailing of a spirit of one of
the many scores of Europeans whose lives have been sacrificed to the
spectral stream. The approach to the camp, on the side where the main
road came in, was in an indescribable condition of filth, which might
easily have been prevented had proper precautions been only taken at
first; and on the other sides, where the forest had been cleared, the
rank vegetation had been allowed to lie where it fell, putrefying and
poisoning the air.
Had there been much mortality at Prahsu a storm of indignation would
have burst out in England at a camp having again been established there
in spite of the warnings of history; but, because no deaths occurred
actually on the spot, the breaking of the West African golden rule was
not the less-advised; this rule forbids, except in cases of urgent
necessity, the removal of Europeans from the health-giving sea-breezes
and from such poor comforts as the wretched Colony affords.
FOOTNOTES:
[6] Meaning Enguie and Busumburu.
[7] This man had arrived from Coomassie on March 30th and informed the
Governor that Prince Buaki was to come down.
CHAPTER XVII.
Another Interview--Atassi--An Importunate Investigation--A
Shocking Accident--Yancoomassie Assin--Draggled Plumes--An
Unintentional Insult--A Scientific Experiment--The Palaver at
Elmina--Our future Policy--Recent Explorations on the River Volta.
On the morning of the 17th of April the Governor had a chair and a
table taken out into the forest and had a private interview with Prince
Buaki. At this private interview, after a few preliminary compliments,
Buaki said that the whole of the difficulty had arisen from the
ignorance of the Lieutenant-Governor, and that had Governor Ussher been
living there would have been no trouble of any kind. He asserted that
Enguie was not instructed to make any threat, such as the threatened
invasion of Assin, that in making it he had made a mistake, but that
the Lieutenant-Governor had also made a mistake in not sending to
Coomassie to know the meaning of the message he had received, before
writing to England that the king of Ashanti meant war.
Buaki added--“As for the axe, I am old enough to know the meaning of
every symbol in my country, and I know that on no occasion has the
golden axe been used by the Ashantis as the sign of a declaration
of war. We have in Ashanti two symbols, both of which are used when
we declare war. One of these is a sword. When that sword is sent to
another people by the king of Ashanti, that is a declaration of war by
Ashanti. The other is a certain cap. If a messenger were charged to
declare war in the event of his ‘palaver’ being unsuccessful he would
be entrusted with that cap by the king, and if he did declare war he
would put on that cap, and that would be a proof that the declaration
came from the king. The true meaning of the axe is this. It is a
fetish. When the axe has been sent on any mission, that mission has
always been successful, and we believe that it has some mysterious
power which causes any request, that is supported by its presence,
to be granted. The Lieutenant-Governor did not know the meaning of
the axe, or the ways of our country; neither do the Fantis, yet the
Lieutenant-Governor accepted the word of the Fantis before that of our
people.”
In conclusion he said he had come to make submission in the name of the
king.[8]
About a mile up stream from Prahsu is the village of Atassi, where
there is another ford by which one of the divisions of the Ashanti army
crossed in the invasion of 1873. Atassi itself consists of a group of
some twelve huts, and there is a road, which would, for the country,
be very good were it not slightly swampy in parts, leading to Assampah
Neyeh, the first village on the road to the coast. The banks of the
river are at Atassi of equal height, and for this reason, and because
there are several large silk-cotton trees on either bank on which
hawsers might be stretched to work subsidiary raft-bridges, it seems a
more suitable spot for moving a force across the river than Prahsu; it
is besides nearer.
I was amused one day at hearing an individual of that ubiquitous genus
which goes about asking questions at the most unseasonable times,
set down by a native. An Ashanti youth had been drowned while the
embassy was crossing the river, and the father of the lad was sitting
by the riverside mourning for his dead son, when this individual
went up to him, and began, through the medium of his Fanti servant,
cross-examining him, with a view to ascertaining what ideas the natives
have of a future state of existence. He poked the chief in the ribs
with his walking-stick and said, airily:
“So your son was drowned this morning, eh?”
The Ashanti disdained to answer in words, and gave him a look which
would have pierced the epidermis of a rhinoceros, but which failed to
make any impression on this man. He continued:
“Let me know your ideas of a future state. Do you believe that there is
a new life for the soul after death?”
Still no answer, only an angry glitter began to appear in the chief’s
eyes.
“Now, do you expect to meet that boy of yours in Hades, eh?”
A muttered curse from the Ashanti.
“Look here, don’t get sulky now. Tell me what your religious belief is.”
No answer.
“Oh! very well. Don’t say anything if you don’t want to. I expect your
son is having a nice time of it now. Pretty hot down where he is now,
eh?”
Then the chief rose, and, majestically throwing his cloth around him,
said to the Fanti:
“Why do the English allow idiots like this to be at large?” and went
away to try and find some place where he could brood over his loss in
peace.
One morning the whole camp was convulsed with horror by an accident,
which, had it been followed by serious consequences, would have been
too awful to contemplate. One of the retinue was playing in his hut
with a new toy, to wit a loaded revolver, when he accidentally
discharged it. Some malignant demon at once directed the bullet towards
the exact spot where would have been the august head of His Excellency,
had he been at breakfast; but fortunately he was not there, and the
missile sped harmlessly on through a tent, scattering the four or five
Fanti clerks who were writing inside. Everybody turned out in alarm and
shuddered to think of what would have been the fate of the expedition
and the Colony if the gigantic intellect which directed all these
stupendous operations had suddenly ceased to be. For future security
a guard was at once placed over the Governor’s hut, His Excellency
held a _levée_ to assure his well-wishers that he was unharmed, and
a deputation of native Colonial officials waited upon him to read an
address congratulating him upon his narrow escape, and pointing out,
from the fate of the late Czar and the recent accident, that crowned
heads, alike in Europe and Africa, were in these days menaced by
insidious perils. I do not know what was done to the culprit, but the
Queen’s Advocate said that an action for high treason would not lie,
and so I believe he was only found guilty of culpable negligence.
Early on the morning of April 19th we thankfully bade adieu to Prahsu
and started for the coast. The Ashantis and the Adansis were to leave
on the same day, and the Governor, who was down with fever, and
his retinue, in a few days’ time. Halting for a couple of hours at
Inyaso, we reached Yancoomassie Assin about half-past one, where,
as the Commissariat officer had an attack of fever, we stopped.
Half-an-hour after our arrival a heavy tornado, accompanied by thunder
and lightning, passed over the village, the violent gusts of wind
tearing the thatch off the houses, limbs off trees, and levelling
whole groves of bamboo, while the rain fell in continuous sheets.
While the storm was still raging the Adansis came in, being met by
the chief of the place with the usual drumming, dancing, shouting,
and horn-blowing, while some of his ultra-loyal followers brandished
union-jack pocket-handkerchiefs fastened to sticks. As the rain ceased
the Ashantis appeared on the scene, and the Assin chief seated himself
in his state-chair, supported by his retainers with the state-swords,
while each Ashanti chief, or delegate, with his followers, filed
before him shaking hands and then passing on. When this was over a
tremendous drumming commenced, and the Assin potentate performed a
grotesque _pas seul_ in the centre of a circle of gaping admirers;
being followed, when he had finished, by the king of Adansi, who threw
in some complicated steps, to cut out his predecessor, which positively
made the unsophisticated Assins gasp for breath. This mighty monarch at
last sank back exhausted into a chair, and some of the Ashantis came
out and skipped round; Buaki, however, seemed to be above this sort of
thing, and, instead of cutting insane capers, contented himself with
walking round the circle and waving his hand affably to the lookers-on.
I left this gay and festive scene, and was going back to the house
which we had appropriated for our use, when I saw one of the
masquerading costumes, which had at Prahsu made its wearer the cynosure
of all eyes, hanging up wet and draggled on a tree. Alas! alas! what a
wreck was there! The rain had soaked the garments through and through,
and little puddles of brilliant dyes were forming on the ground
underneath, while the glory of the lace and braid was destroyed for
ever. I found the unhappy owner trying to dry himself in an adjoining
house; he had come down in charge of the Ashanti embassy and had been
caught in the tornado in the forest; everything he possessed had been
saturated with water, and he had had two narrow escapes of being
crushed by immense dead silk-cotton trees which had fallen across the
road. I felt sorry to see him in such a pitiable condition, but somehow
I could not help mentally comparing him, in his then garb, with a
magnificent peacock that had lost its tail.
When the natives had finished their demonstration outside, Buaki came
with two or three of his supporters to pay us a visit in our hut. He
drank our sole remaining bottle of beer with much gusto, although it
was his first experience of malt liquor; and we were getting along very
nicely when a slight _contretemps_ occurred which entirely destroyed
the harmony of the meeting, and shows how necessary it is that everyone
who has anything to do with natives should have some knowledge of their
prejudices and modes of thought. Prince Ansah was interpreting, and
Buaki had just affably said, in compliment to us, that he was very fond
of soldiers, when some one asked:--
“Do you shoot much in Ashanti?”
This was duly interpreted, and Buaki drew himself up and said:--
“How? What do you mean?”
“Do you go out into the bush much to shoot birds and deer?”
This being explained to him, he said to Ansah:--
“Does this white man think that I am a common fellow to have to work
for my living?” and got up and went out in great dudgeon.
It is needless to say that the Ashantis have no idea of sport.
We left Yancoomassi Assin early next morning and reached Mansu about 5
p.m. There we found Lieutenant Swinburne, R.M.A., one of the Governor’s
retinue, who, while the others had been looking after squads of
Kroomen, had come across country from Accra by unknown paths on foot,
a feat never before performed by a European. As the maps of the tract
that he had crossed had been compiled from imagination and native
reports, he was able to rectify many startling errors.
We were off again early next morning, reaching Dunquah about 4·30 p.m.
The sun had been exceedingly powerful, and as the forest terminates a
short distance out of Mansu, giving place to the shadowless bush, we
had had our heads well roasted, for it is impossible to wear a helmet
in a hammock, and the awning, formed of a single piece of thin calico,
affords no real protection. The water at Dunquah, which is obtained
from shallow wells, is notoriously bad even for the Gold Coast, being
of the colour of weak coffee, and filtering has no visible effect on
it. On our upward journey we had experienced some of the ill effects
resulting from drinking this beverage; but now we had with us a
scientific surgeon who assured us that he knew how to purify it, and,
while dinner was being prepared, he set to work at an earthen-pot
full of muddy water. When we sat down to our meal we were agreeably
surprised to find our tumblers full of clear water, and it was such an
unusual luxury that we each seized a glass and raised it to our lips.
The result was startling: the Commissariat officer jumped up, ejecting
the fluid from his mouth and exclaimed:--
“Good heavens--I’m poisoned.”
I had a most horrible taste in my mouth, and tried to say, “What’s the
matter?” but found I could only make a sound like “mum--mum--mum”;
while the others demanded an immediate explanation and an antidote from
the man of science.
He said it was nothing: it was only something he had put in the water
to purify it: it was quite harmless.
That was all very well, but it had made us all feel ill, and what he
had used was such a violent astringent that I could not partake of any
of the dinner except the soup, and that I had to take through a straw.
The surgeon appeared very proud of his achievement, though it seemed to
me that it was not of much use to purify water for drinking purposes
if it was made undrinkable in the process. I have no liking for such
theoretical scientists.
We reached Cape Coast next day at noon, where we found that during our
short absence seven officers had been invalided to England, all but one
of whom had been living in the hired houses in the town.
On April 28th there was a formal meeting at Elmina between the Ashanti
embassy, the Adansis, and some of the chiefs of the protectorate,
among the latter being the King of Abrah, King Blay of Apollonia, and
the local chiefs of Elmina; and on the 29th the final palaver between
the Government and the Ashantis was held at the same place for the
settlement of the Ashanti question. Every European who could be pressed
into service was summoned to swell the Governor’s following; even a
number of officers being asked for from Cape Coast, in full dress, to
make a more gorgeous display.
After the usual preliminaries, Buaki rose and said:--
“I have brought a message from the king of Ashanti. News has come to
the king that the Queen of England thinks he is going to make war
against the Government of the Gold Coast. Whoever told the Governor
this is quite wrong. He has no cause of quarrel with the Government of
the Gold Coast, and, if he has no quarrel, why should he make war? The
king wishes to remain at peace with the English, whom he has found to
be his good friends; and he has sent me therefore with this message.
As he found that through somebody’s foolishness, or mistake, the
Government of the Gold Coast had thought that he wanted to make war,
which was quite wrong, and as he knew that they must have spent much
money, he sent down a sum, not to pay for the expenses which they had
incurred, but as a proof of his friendship with his good friends the
English. The king says he desires peace only and never meant war, and
that if he had meant war he should have given the Government of the
Gold Coast notice, as he hopes the Government of the Gold Coast would
do to him. I bring a thousand bendas[9] for the Government.”
(Prince Ansah here began talking to Buaki.)
_Rowe_ (_to the Interpreter_). “What is Ansah saying to Buaki?”
_Ansah._ “Buaki has left out part of the message, and a most important
part.”
_Rowe._ “Does not Buaki come direct from the king with a message to me?”
_Ansah._ “Yes.”
_Rowe._ “How then do you know his message better than he does himself?
I think your interruption is very unseemly.”
_Ansah._ “Buaki told me his message when he first arrived at Prahsu. He
has now omitted something he then told me.”
_Buaki._ “It is true what Prince Ansah says. I have, through my old
age, forgotten a part of my message. It is about the golden axe. The
axe belongs to the fetish: it is a sign of the fetish. In the time of
Governor Maclean there was a dispute concerning a man: the axe was
sent, and the end was peace. Under Colonel Torrane a difference arose
and the axe was again sent. The matter was settled amicably. To two
other Governors the axe was sent, and the end was peace. In the present
case the axe was sent as belonging to the fetish, to obtain our desires
peaceably. It is in fact a sign of an extraordinary embassy. There are
those who have said the axe means war: so the king has heard. It was
not so. It is not so. Take no heed of this; the king of Ashanti only
wishes for peace.”
The representative of Awooah, chief of Bantama and general of the
Ashanti army, said:--
“My master is the greatest captain of the king’s army. If we had been
going to war would not my master have known before others? But he knew
no such thing. Let it be known to the Government of the Gold Coast that
the king of Ashanti has many enemies near home, and it is they who have
endeavoured to embroil him with the English, so that they might seize
their opportunities. Why should we fight with the English? They are our
good friends. I, my master, and my king, only wish for peace.”
The representative of the Kokofuah district then rose and said:--
“Why should we quarrel with our good friends the English? If we want
salt, we get it from Europe; if we want cloth, we get it from Europe;
and if we want powder to fire at a custom, where do we get it from?
Why, from Europe. I and my master only wish for peace. Why should we
fight the Government of the Gold Coast, so far off, when we have many
enemies close at hand ever ready to fight?”
The representatives of the dukes of Ashanti, and of various chiefs and
districts, all then spoke in succession to the same effect.
_Rowe._ “I have listened carefully to what you have to say. Even a
little thing between the Government and the Ashantis, though in itself
small, soon becomes serious. This is a most serious matter, and I shall
have to think over it, and will appoint a day on which I shall give my
answer.”
_Buaki._ “I assure Your Excellency that what I say is true.”
_Rowe._ “Had I not thought so I would not have listened so carefully.”
(_To the Interpreter_). “Ask him if he has the gold with him.”
_Buaki._ “No, but while I am here the gold will come.”
On May 3rd a review of the troops and Constabulary was held for the
benefit of the Ashantis, after which the Governor informed Buaki, that,
if he would hand over the two thousand ounces of gold-dust, the whole
question would be referred to the Home Government for settlement.
About twelve hundred ounces were accordingly paid on May 23rd and the
remainder on June 8th, Buaki, at his own request, remaining at Elmina
as a hostage for the payment; and the whole sum is now in the hands
of the Government. On July 16th Awoosoo, the Gaman refugee, committed
suicide by leaping from the walls of Elmina Castle, for which act the
Ashantis are no doubt much obliged to him; and, had they known that
he was going to make away with himself so conveniently, they probably
would not have troubled to send the embassy with the golden axe to
demand his surrender.
The Ashanti question of 1881 is now at an end, but war with Ashanti
has, however, only been postponed, and is, sooner or later, inevitable,
unless we make a new departure in our Gold Coast policy, and, instead
of regarding the Ashantis with suspicion as probable foes, enter into
close and friendly relations with them. By establishing a British
resident at Coomassie we should place matters on quite a different
footing; and if we were to appoint a port to which the Ashantis might
resort for trade, without having to employ the despised Fantis as
middlemen, there would be no further friction. One of the members of
the Buaki embassy said to me, on this subject:--
“Give us a town on the coast, say Moree.[10] Let it be ours; let us
have a road of our own to it. If you say it is to be half-a-mile broad
we will make it so. Then we can come there to trade without having
anything to say to those women, the Assins and Fantis, who are really
our slaves, and only saved from destruction by you English. Do this,
and there will be no more trouble.”
Of course the Ashantis are really desirous of avoiding the payment
of customs dues on imported goods, partly on account of the duties
themselves, but principally because they consider that, being an
independent people, they ought to have a port of their own. This
non-payment does not seem to present any insuperable obstacles; goods
thus landed duty-free would have to traverse the protectorate by a
prescribed route, and a Colonial officer stationed at the point at
which they would cross the frontier could examine the permits and
see that everything was intact, thus smuggling would be made almost
impossible. Were we to make this concession, a European resident would
willingly be received in Coomassie, and the presence of such an officer
would be the most effectual check upon human sacrifices that could be
devised. It is difficult to see by what principle of equity we arrogate
to ourselves the right of levying upon goods, intended for the use of
an independent nation living beyond our borders, the same duty as is
levied upon goods which are to be offered for sale in the Colony. It
is just as if France should impose her tariff upon goods consigned to
Switzerland, and merely passing through French territory.
By adopting such a policy I am convinced a lasting peace with Ashanti
would be assured; and it certainly appears easier to found a peace upon
the good-will and interest of the Ashantis themselves than to endeavour
to keep them in check by forming a precarious combination of inferior
native tribes, each one of which is jealous of the others, and the most
powerful of whom, probably the Gamans, would, in the event of Ashanti
being totally crushed, assume the position now held by that nation in
West Africa, and necessitate the formation of a new combination against
them. Should we, as is most probable, pursue our present policy, the
end is not difficult to see. Continued friction and a species of
armed neutrality cannot be kept up with a haughty and warlike race of
savages with impunity; the Ashantis will continue arming themselves
with improved weapons, and on the death of King Mensah, should he not
first be dethroned, a monarch less peaceably disposed will ascend the
throne, some pretext of quarrel will soon be found, and another Ashanti
war will take place. Of course the Ashantis will be crushed, though
not without much expenditure of blood and money, but what shall we do
then? Shall we annex their territory or again retire? If the former,
we shall find ourselves face to face with the warlike Mohammedan tribes
of the inland plateau; and if the latter, the present state of affairs
will continue, if not with Ashanti as the dominant power, with some
other tribe that has stepped into its place.
In the much-to-be-deplored event of future hostilities with Ashanti,
recent explorations made by Mr. McLaren, of the firm of Messrs. Alex.
Miller Brothers, seem to show that the Volta river is the proper base
of operations. That gentleman, in October 1879, crossed the rapids on
the Volta, between Medica and Aquamoo, in the steam-launch “Agnes,”
which was the first European-built craft that had ever reached the
latter town. Prior to this the rapids had been considered impassable,
but it is now known that in ordinary seasons they can be passed by
steamers of sufficient power, drawing six feet of water, from the
beginning of September to the middle or end of November.
The Volta itself has been found to be navigable to the falls of
Klatchie, from 300 to 350 miles from Addah; but it is by its principal
confluent, the Afram, that Coomassie should be approached. The Afram
discharges into the Volta at the town of Ourahei on the western bank
of the latter, about 130 miles from the sea, and to this town, prior
to the invasion of Crepe by the Ashanti general Adu Buffo in 1869,
great numbers of Ashantis used to resort for purposes of trade, Ourahei
itself being only six days’ journey from Coomassie through an open
grassy country. The Afram is both wide and deep, though a good deal
obstructed by snags and fallen timber, and flows through Kwâow, at a
distance of six hours’ journey to the north of Abeliffi, which place
is only four days’ easy journey from Coomassie. Further than Kwâow the
Afram has not yet been explored, but natives report that it has its
source in a lake. If this be the case the lake must be either the Busum
Echuy near Djuabin, or lake Burro to the west of the desert of Ghofan,
far to the north-east of Coomassie. Its general direction from Kwâow is
north-west. Even should the Afram be navigable no further than Kwâow
troops could there be disembarked, where there would be only four days’
marching, as against ten or twelve from Cape Coast to Coomassie, and
that too through open country in which the Ashanti never appears to
advantage as a soldier.
In the present year, 1882, signs have not been wanting to show that
the Ashantis are still pursuing their astute and unscrupulous policy
with that unwearying tenacity of purpose which has ever distinguished
them. A war with the Gaman party which supported King Ajiman was one
of the first important events of the year, and now at the time of
writing it is reported from Cape Coast that the Adansis are flocking in
large numbers across the Prah, complaining that, in their own country,
neither their lives nor property are safe from Ashanti aggression. In
fact, the Ashantis, having learned for the first time during the scare
in 1881 that we were not bound by any treaty obligations to defend
Adansi, are now beginning to feel their way, with a view to recovering
their dominion over that territory: this done, the last vestige of the
treaty of Fommanah will have disappeared. They will undoubtedly compass
their ends before long unless checked by us in some way; which, as
the doctrine of non-intervention still prevails, is not probable. The
prestige the Ashantis will gain will be great, British influence beyond
our borders must proportionately decline, and we shall find ourselves
in exactly the same position as we were in 1873; with this difference,
that the Ashantis will be better armed, and, having learnt wisdom from
past reverses, will know better how to cope with us should we again
attempt to advance on their capital.
FOOTNOTES:
[8] It is worthy of note that Buaki was very careful not to allude in
any way to the wasp’s nest that had accompanied the axe, and which was
the more important symbol of the two.
[9] A benda is two ounces.
[10] A village about five miles to the east of Cape Coast.
THE END.
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