CHAPTER IXFROM SAY TO BUSSA

TAYORO AND MODIBO KONNA.

He spokebozo, or the dialect of the Niger fishermen near Mopti, and this enabled Baudry to draw up an elementary vocabulary of that language.

This lady blacksmith, with Tayoro and Modibo Konna, were our guests for some days, and we were really quite fascinated by their manners, and the way in which they behaved to us. We had certainly not been accustomed to meet with tact such as theirs amongst the natives, and they finally removed all my prejudices against their masterGaladio. So I sent to ask him whether, as he was too old to visit me, I should go to see him, for were we not friends like two fingers on one hand, or, to use the native simile, like two teeth of one comb? If he would see me, when should I come?

It would only take me three days to go, I reflected, and it was of importance for us to let the whole country see that Galadio was our friend, and that when we broke up our camp we should leave behind us an ally devoted to our interests, in fact so compromised that he must remain true to us. It would be very important to us to have such a helper when it came to the organization of the district, and he might be made its ruler as a protected native chief.

My messengers returned a few days later, bringing horses with them for me to make the journey, and assuring me that their master would be delighted to receive me.

While waiting for the envoys to come back, we worked very hard at our vocabularies. All went well with them, and we completed them in a few days. Between whiles Tayoro turned our knowledge of his dialect to account, by telling me the following charming story about the time of the Fulah reformation in Sokoto.

When the great reformer, Othman Fodio, who, by the way, was a noted robber and slave-hunter, preached the so-called reformation, that is to say, the revolt against the chief of the Haussa Fulahs, he was followed by a great many disciples, as of course all prophets are.

One evening when Othman was preaching and expounding the truth, his eyes suddenly fell upon a venerable-looking old man who was sobbing.

“Look!” cried the reformer, “look at that old man weeping; follow his example, for Allah has touched his heart.”

Then the poor old fellow, the tears still rolling down hischeeks, said in a choked and broken voice, “No, Modibo, no, you have read my heart wrongly; when I saw you holding forth so vehemently, and shaking your grey beard, you reminded me of my old goat which I left at home in my hut to follow you. That is what made me sob,” and he went on weeping.

A YOUNG GIRL AT FORT ARCHINARD.

This anecdote, which loses much of its piquancy in translation, is very typical of the character of the nomad Fulahs, illustrating as it does their combined fanaticism and self-interest.

As I have said, we were all quite won over by the behaviour of Tayoro and Modibo Konna, when one fineevening, after the lesson in Tuareg was over, Suleyman the interpreter came to seek me, and said point-blank: “Commandant, all these people are only making game of you. Tierno Abdulaye, the Arabic translator, who is a mischievous fellow, saw that old Modibo Konna is an old gossip who can’t keep a secret, and as he wanted to know all about Galadio and the rest of them, he said to him, ‘What, will you Modibos, good Mussulmans, true believers, take part against Amadu, against the son of El Hadji Omar?—and your chief Galadio, is he likely to take the side of the French? I, Tierno Abdulaye, am with them because I can’t help myself, but my heart is with the Toucouleurs, my fellow-countrymen. If it came to a fight, I should be the first to desert. True Mussulmans could not really consort with Kaffirs!’

“‘All in good time!’ answered Modibo Konna. ‘At least I shall find somebody to talk to, meanwhile. Do you really suppose that we were ever, in good faith, the allies of the commandant? Why, Galadio is Amadu’s best friend; he it was who helped him to reach the left bank. Tayoro and I are only here as spies, to prevent the French from doing harm, such as attacking Dunga or Say. As soon as you arrived Ibrahim realized that it would be best to seem friendly with you. He even reproached Amadu Saturu for refusing your hospitality, because they would have been able to keep an eye on you better at Say. By adopting this attitude towards you, we have got presents, Kaffirs are always lawful prey, whilst the rest of the natives have got nothing. As for me, Modibo Konna, I was recalled from Dunga, where I was looking after Ibrahim’s affairs and sent here. When I go back I shall return to Dunga to report all I have seen. Do you suppose for one moment that a marabout such as Ibrahim would ever be false to the true religion?’”

The whole secret of the plot against us was now revealed. Galadio, distrusting the old gossip, had merely sent Tayoro, the clever diplomatist, with him to see that he did not talk nonsense. For four whole months they had all been fooling us, with very considerable address, it must be admitted. However, the duplicity with which we had been treated all this time had one good result—we had had the pleasure of imagining that we had at least one good friend in the country on whom we could rely, and this thought had been good for the morale of our men, for it is not at all inspiriting to feel completely isolated in a strange land. Even if it is all a delusion, it is consoling to fancy oneself liked and respected.

The end of it all might however have been very different. Horses had been sent for me to go to Galadio’s camp, and if I had started, accompanied by Father Hacquart and a few men, we might have been murdered by the way. Maybe Galadio would have been afraid of immediate reprisals; maybe he would have hesitated to commit a crime which would have compromised him for the future; or perhaps, even he was, after all, too good a fellow to injure those who were coming to him as guests.

This was the last scene of the comedy in which we took part at Fort Archinard. We had now to begin to think seriously of starting again, as we had already long before announced that we should go on September 15. We had bought our stores of grain, and our barges were once more in a state of repair. The information we had received about the river was to the effect that it was now navigable again. We were all busy repacking our stuffs and knick-knacks, and were eager to be off.

Taburet was simply boiling over with impatience, and was already inquiring what steamboat we could catch atDahomey, and wondering by what train he could go to Conquet. The rest of us, though we did not say so much about it, were just as anxious for the start, the more so that a kind of wave of fever was passing over our island, attacking the negroes, who had not always taken the preventive doses of quinine, more than us. Baudry, what with the repair of the barges, the buying up stores in the market, and the repacking, was quite worn out. It was really time we broke up our camp.

On September 15 everything on board was once more ship-shape. Digui had gone to reconnoitre our route the evening before, and had come back very late, looking anxious. “It is very bad,” he said, “but we shall get past somehow.” The coolies, weary as they all were, could not contain their joy at the idea of leaving the Fort, and poor old Suleyman Futanke, who was no doubt afraid of being given back to Amadu, or left behind as useless, made desperate efforts to learn to row. Happiest of all, perhaps, was Atchino, the man from Dahomey, who had spent the whole day before packing tomatoes for us to eat on the journey, and who was dreaming all the time of the bananas of his home.

In the morning, Abdulaye cut a great piece of bark out of a fig tree, and on the plain surface beneath, he engraved with a chisel the lettersM. H. D. N.1896. He then nailed firmly on to the same tree a plank, on which was written in large characters the name ofFort Archinard, for the benefit of those who should come after us.

At the eastern corner of ourtata, looking down-stream, we dug a deep hole, in which we buried all our old iron, with the nails and poles we no longer needed, and which would only have encumbered us. They mayperhaps be useful to others who may halt on our island. We levelled the soil above them and so left them. We were fortunate indeed that no other cemetery was needed at Fort Archinard, and were most grateful for the mercy of Heaven, which had preserved us all for so long.

We did not wish the natives who had treated us so badly to profit at all by our leavings, so we made a big bonfire of our tables, chairs, doors, etc., in fact of everything that would burn. The coolies and we whites all worked with a will at making the pile, and we set light to the whole at once—camp mattresses, abattis, etc. etc.—with torches of straw, and a grand blaze they made; the crackling of the dry wood and the occasional blowing up of the powder in the cartridges could be heard a long way off.

The coolies meanwhile, like so many black devils, danced round the fire beating their tam-tams, each performing the figures peculiar to his tribe, whilst Suleyman alone looked thoughtfully on, and we watched, not without a certainserrement de cœur, the burning of what had been Fort Archinard, that remote islet in the land of the negroes where for five long months we had lived, and hoped, now buoyed up with illusive joy, now depressed with the knowledge of how we had been deceived.

Somehow the heart gets attached to these lonely districts, where such thrilling emotions have been lived through, where real sufferings and privations have been endured. It is with them as with women, we often love best those who have given us the most pain.

Fort Archinard burnt gloriously. When the smoke became too dense and nearly choked us, we embarkedon our barges, which were already launched, and turned back just once more, like Lot’s wife after leaving Sodom, to gaze at the conflagration.

THE BURNING OF FORT ARCHINARD.

We were off again with light hearts full of hope, to face new rapids!

A YOUNG KURTEYE.

NATIVES OF MALALI.

BelowFort Archinard the river divides into a number of arms; the islands formed by them as well as the banks of the river were deserted, but clothed with lofty trees, such as baobabs, palms, and other tropical growths.

Although the water was now pretty well at its maximum height, a good many scarcely-covered rocks impeded its bed, and rapids were numerous. Of little danger to us, for we had seen worse, and safely passed them, but bad enough to make navigation impossible to a steamer.

On September 16, at about seven o’clock in the morning, we passed a little encampment on the left bank, consisting of one hut, and some millet granaries. I imagine this to have been the landing-place for Kibtachi, for at half-past five in the afternoon we found we had made some forty-four miles since we started, so we must have passed the village without seeing it. I was sorry not to have been able to visit the mines of bracelets and rings, probably of cornelian, of which the natives had told me, but at the same time Idid not altogether regret having avoided coming into contact, just before entering Dendi, with tribes then at war with its people.

The next day, the 17th, the river still wound in much the same way as on the 16th; in fact, so serpentine was its course, that one of the coolies cried out he did not believe we were on the Niger still, but that we had lost our way. Numerous islands and dense vegetation, with very picturesque views here and there, were the order of the day. Great blocks of red sandstone rose in some places to a height of from about thirty to more than three hundred feet, and at every bend of the stream some new or strange view met our eyes.

We longed to land and seek repose beneath the thick dome of vegetation forming natural arbours, but there was one great drawback about them, the immense number of insects eager to suck our blood. At night the mosquitoes invaded us in vast hordes, and our poor coolies used to roll themselves up in everything they could lay hands on, at the risk of suffocation. As for us, we too suffered terribly, for though when we were asleep our mosquito nets did to some extent protect us, when we were on watch on deck we were nearly bled to death. In the day these pests left us pretty well unmolested, but their place was taken by other persecutors, rather like gadflies, which were able to pierce through our white clothes with a sting as sharp and nearly as long as a needle. I had suffered terribly once before from these horrible diptera when I was on the Tankisso; in fact they haunt the tropical vegetation of many an African river.

Since we started we had been each day threatened with a tornado, but the storm had not broken after all. On the 18th, however, we came in for the tail of one of these meteorological disturbances, and a pretty strong breezelasted until eleven o’clock so that we were not able to start before that time.

The appearance of the country now began to change. Yesterday I had been reminded by the rocky islets and the wooded banks, of the Niger near Bamako; to-day the stream flows sluggishly through a low plain covered with woods such as those of Massina between Mopti and Debo. A few rocks still occurred to keep up the character of the scenery, so to speak, and about three o’clock in the afternoon we were opposite the site of the village of Gumba, destroyed the year before by the Toucouleurs. We saw a canoe in which were some fishermen, so we hailed them and they approached us without fear. They were inhabitants of Kompa, they said, come here to fish, and were the first human beings we had seen since we left Say. We had passed not only Kibtachi but Bikini without meeting any one. The result of the constant terrorism caused by slaveraids, is that all the villagers remain quietly at home cultivating a few acres only, and living in perpetual fear of being carried away from their huts. They altogether neglect the natural riches of the soil formed by the frequent inundations, which leave new layers of vegetable mould. The baobabs and other wild trees alone profit by it, increasing and multiplying continually.

ROCKY BANKS ABOVE KOMPA.

We soon became capital friends with the people of Kompa. They had heard of our stay at Say, and had impatiently awaited our arrival. Neither were they ignorant of the fact that we had driven the Foutankés from the western Sudan, and they hoped we meant to do the same in Dendi. “Look,” one of the fishermen said to me. “A year ago the whole of this district was dotted with villages, now there is not one left but Kompa, for the Foutanis have destroyed everything.”

The canoe now went to Kompa to announce our arrival, but one of the rowers remained with us to act as our guide. He answered to the name, a tragic one to us, of Labezenga. As we went along he gave me some interesting details about the brother of Serki Kebbi, who was now in Dendi, and had been at Kompa itself for the last few days. He had had a quarrel with his brother, and came to take up his abode on the banks of the Niger, but in spite of the strained relations between them, the two were not exactly at war, and in case of an emergency would act together against the common enemy.

At half-past five we came in sight of a few Fulah huts, which belonged to the abandoned village of Bubodji. The inhabitants had made common cause with Amadu and the people of Say, and gone to join them. The wood of these huts would do nicely to cook our dinner by, so I gave the order for mooring. We steered for the mouth of a little creek, where we could easily land. All of asudden, however, there was a shout of “Digui! what is that?—we are among the rocks!” In fact, all around us the water was ruffled with those peculiar ripples which I used to call moustaches, and which we knew all too well. A strong current was sweeping along, and we expected every moment that our boats would strike and be staved in. How was it that it did not happen? Digui’s features became of the ashy hue peculiar to negroes when they lose their natural colour; he, too, was evidently alarmed, but all of a sudden he burst out laughing. “Fish! Commandant,” he cried, “fish! nothing but fish!” He was right, the ripples were caused by big fishes, a kind of pike, native to the Niger, swimming against the current after their prey. There were simply hundreds of them.

A FOREST ON THE BANKS OF THE NIGER.

We tried to avenge ourselves for our fright by doing a little fishing with petards of gun-cotton, but it was nogood, the water was too deep, ninety or a hundred feet at least, and we had our trouble and wasted our gun-cotton for nothing.

At ten o’clock on the 19th we went up a little arm of the river, really merely an inundated channel, which brought us near the village of Kompa, and at one o’clock we received a visit from some envoys of the chief, who bid us welcome, and sent us three sheep. These men had not the crafty and false expressions of the people of Say, or of the Fulahs. They were fine-looking fellows, though rather wild, wearing turbans adorned with numerousgrisgris, or a kind of cap, common on the Niger as far as Bussa, and rather like those worn by the eunuchs in theBourgeois Gentilhomme. I did not conceal from them that we had been badly received at Say, and told them that their enemies the Foutanis were also ours. That broke the ice very satisfactorily, and I arranged to go and see the chief in the afternoon.

I went with Bluzet about four o’clock. We crossed an inundated track, where we took a good many foot-baths in the bogs.

We found Kompa surrounded by a wall and a little moat, a kind of defence we met with in all the villages of these parts, as far as Burgu. Here, however, wall and moat alike were in a bad state of preservation. Two trees served as drawbridge. Inside theenceintewere numerous mud-huts with pointed thatched roofs, reminding us of the homes of the Malinkes at Kita. The chief received us in a big hut with three entrances forming the vestibule of his house.

He was a little old man, half-blind, but with an expression alike benevolent and cunning. All the time he was talking to us he was plaiting straw for mats, and so were the various notables surrounding him. All the men of thecountry were constantly employed making these mats, and even go on working at them as they walk along, reminding us of the old women at home with their perpetual stocking-knitting. I reminded the chief of the danger his village was in from the Foutanis, and told him that Dendi, Kebbi, and Djerma ought to combine against the invaders; in fact, even pass from the defensive to the offensive. I also asked for guides to take me to the chief of Dendi, to whom I wished to say the same things, and to talk to on other matters, and I begged him to send us as many of his people as he could to be present at our palaver. I also wanted to see the brother of Serki Kebbi.

THE BANKS OF THE NIGER NEAR KOMPA.

Everything I asked was promised at once, and we were just about to return to the boats when we were overtaken by the rain. I had had the presents for the chief and his people got ready beforehand, and they were now broughtto us. We were allowed to take refuge from the storm in the chief’s private apartments, but they were very soon invaded by a crowd, the people vieing with each other in trying to find something to give us pleasure; one offering a chicken, another some eggs, and so on, every one bringing out some little present, evidently offered with the best intentions.

We, on our part, distributed our merchandise, from which, however, the old chief deducted a tithe. It was a most amusing scene, for he could hardly see in the semi-obscurity of the hut, and so every one tried to slip off with his portion without paying toll, but he took up his position at the door, and all who went out were searched in the style of the Belgian custom-house officers. Then the cunning old fellow, with many a grimace, persuaded the owners to give up part of their riches with an apparently good grace. Sometimes he gave back what he had taken, praising up the beauty and the value of the beads or stuffs he did not fancy, but taking care to hide behind him all he really wanted, nodding his head all the time to emphasize his pretended admiration of the things he let those he had despoiled retain.

We had on board with us a dog and a cat, which, after a long series of hostilities, had ended by becoming the best friends in the world. But when the cat had managed to run off with a bit of meat, it was worth something to see the advances made to him by his friend the dog, who was bent on taking it away. The cat would begin by putting his paw on the meat, looking angry and showing his claws. The dog would then assume a plaintive air, giving vent to low moans of assumed distress, and advancing gradually upon the cat, who was watching his every movement, would at last completely hypnotize him. This done, he would pounce with a yelp upon the coveted morseland dash off with it. He was just like the chief of Kompa.

The rain over, we returned on board, followed by an immense number of our new friends. The nephew of the chief of Tendu—who, I was told, was really paramount throughout Dendi—accompanied us, as well as the chief of the captives of the chief of Kompa. The last-named carried a gun, the only one in the village, of which he was very proud, but the hammer having long since been destroyed, the charge had to be set fire to with a wick. The owner of this gun pointed out the spot from which, aided by Ibrahim Galadio, the Toucouleurs had attacked Kompa. He also showed me a big shield of ox-hide, behind which the besieged had tried to take shelter, and which was riddled by the Toucouleur bullets. In spite, however, of the superiority of their weapons, the Foutanis had been driven back with great slaughter, a fact very creditable to the courage of the people of Dendi. It will, in my opinion, be with the aid of this race, little civilized, it is true, but not yet infected with the intolerance and fanaticism of the Mussulmans, that we shall be able to pacify the valley of the Niger by driving away the Toucouleurs first, as with the help of the Bambaras we have restored tranquillity in the French Sudan.

On the 20th we went on to Goruberi, where lives the brother of Serki Kebbi. We cast anchor some little distance from the village, at the entrance to a creek too narrow for our boats to go up, and the chief came to visit us.

He was a tall, strong-looking young fellow, and would have been handsome but for being disfigured, as is the horrible custom amongst the Haussas of Kebbi, with deep scars from the temples to the chin, long incisions having been made in his face with a sharp knife when he was a child.

I at once began to talk about the intentions of his brother, and to preach the crusade I never cease to urge against the Toucouleurs and the people of Sokoto. The answer in this case pleased me particularly. His brother, said the chief, was suspicious of him, charging him with an ambition that he did not entertain. They had been obliged to part, and he for his part had come to live at Gorubi. They were not, however, enemies, and if Serki were to send for him to-morrow, he should start at once to join him. He could promise me that he would repeat all I said to his brother.

We then talked about the Monteil expedition, and dwelt on the troubles its leader encountered at Argungu before he had succeeded in making a treaty with Kebbi. He was very well remembered, and Serki must have been the child whose terrible wound he had cured, and whose death afterwards had been falsely reported to him. Another untrue piece of news had been given to him at Burnu, for Agungu had not been taken, but had repulsed his enemies with very great loss to them. Namantugu Mame, the brother of Ibrahim, alluded to by Monteil in his narrative, was, however, killed in the fight. My visitor assured me once more that Kebbi considered himself the ally of the French, and would be very happy to see the fellow-countrymen of one who had left such pleasant memories behind him.

I must pause a moment here to dwell on this important fact, which justifies our resistance of English greed. No one could possibly deny that the French were guilty of a great piece of stupidity when they accepted the convention of 1890. Above their last factory on the Lower Niger the English had no better-founded pretensions than we to the protectorate of the natives peopling a problematical Hinterland. But however that may be, the thing is done now.Yet once again our geographical incapacity, our interference in African affairs, has permitted our rivals to mock us with assertions which a little less ignorance on our part would have enabled us to refute.

Sir Edward Malet spoke of the Falls of Burrum; it would have been quite enough to open Barth’s narrative to answer that these Falls were non-existent. Reading the narrative of the German traveller might also have taught us that when he passed through,a descendant of the ancient chiefs of the country was maintaining an independent position in Argungu, and the account of his perilous journey from Sokoto to the banks of the Niger would have shown how very precarious was the influence exercised by the Emir of Sokoto on the countries through which he passed. Since 1890, when the Anglo-Franco treaty was signed, that authority has continued to decrease. Kebbi, Mauri, Djerma, and Dendi would very soon have got the better of their oppressors if they had always worked together. However that may be, they have at least now regained independence, and we French are the only European people who have made any conventions with them. Strickly speaking, the treaty signed by Monteil with Kebbi would be enough.

It is therefore no longer at Say, as the English pretend, that the limit of French influence is reached. The line of demarcation, according to the spirit as well as the letter of the treaty of 1890, ought to leave us the four provinces I have just named. We are again about to abandon our rights won at the price of so much trouble and fatigue. Better still, are we going to leave Sokoto (strong through the weapons supplied by the English), after spreading fire and destruction everywhere, to reduce to captivity and slavery the peaceful but courageous swarms of population, capable as those populations areof achieving prosperity under the paternal authority of the French, so different from the commercial control aimed at by our rivals?

Lord Salisbury, in the English Parliament, said scoffingly that they had left nothing for the Gallic cock to do but to scratch up the sand. Let us at least reclaim that sand, and if we can find a little corner of fertile land which the diplomacy of that time forgot to abandon, shall we let the diplomacy of to-day generously hand that also over to our neighbours? Or will our diplomatists, eager to avenge the insult put upon us, reply, “You deceived us by false affirmations, we were stupid enough to have confidence enough in your good faith without any preliminaries to assure us of it, we are willing to bear with the results of our own simplicity, but it has been a good lesson, and we forbid you to attempt to give us another like it”?

I remember an Arab saying, which well applies to the circumstances under discussion: “If my enemy deceives me once, may God curse him; if he deceives me twice, may God curse us both; but if he deceives me three times, may God curse me only.”

After having chatted for a few hours with the notables of Goruberi, distributed some presents, and hoisted a flag, we went to pass the night opposite Karimama or Karma, a very strong and densely-populated village which is at war with the rest of Dendi. It was the people of this place, who, by calling in the Toucouleurs, had caused all the misery, which had lasted more than a year, to the natives of the banks of the Niger in Dendi. The brother of the chief of Tenda advised me to bombard Karma, and but for the pacific character of my expedition, which I was so extremely anxious to maintain, I would willingly have adopted his suggestion. I contented myself, however, withhaving nothing to do with the renegades, and we passed the night opposite their village on the left bank.

A tornado delayed our start the next day for the little village which is the landing-place for Tenda. At ten o’clock, however, we anchored at the foot of a rock covered with luxuriant vegetation, which hung over the boats, forming a kind of canopy of verdure. This is one of the most picturesque parts of the whole course of the Niger, and the magnificent trees are tenanted by hundreds of birds, whilst on the ground beneath are great flat spaces, very tempting to those who want a suitable place to encamp. In a moment the banks were alive with joyful activity, for our coolies hastened to land, and very soon the thin columns of smoke from our fires were rising up here and there, as preparations were made for cooking a meal. The men washed their clothes here amongst the rocks. A market, too, was soon in full swing, whereonions, potatoes, andkous(large edible roots), chickens and eggs, were sold to us by native women. Our guide and the nephew of the chief of Tenda meanwhile went to a big village further inland, and about two o’clock returned, accompanied by the son of its chief, who sent us word that he was too old to come and see us by the bad roads between his home and our camp, but his son would represent him, unless, indeed, we ourselves would visit him. We did not see why we should not, so I started with Taburet, Suleyman, Tierno, and Mamé.

OUR COOLIES WASHING THEIR CLOTHES.

The chief was quite right about the road. It certainly was not good, for it led us, to begin with, across an inundated plain, where we were up to our knees in water for about a mile. It was also oppressively hot, and the upper part of our bodies was as wet with perspiration as our legs were with the mud of the marsh. It was with a sigh of relief that we came to the rising ground where the road was better, except for the steep and rough bit strewn with sharp flints. We had this kind of thing for some four miles, and Taburet, who was toiling along beside me, became the colour of a ripe cherry. Was this colour a favourite one in these parts, I wondered? Anyhow our doctor made a deep impression on the heart of one of the beauties of Tenda, who had come to see us in our boats, and walked with us to the chief’s village. It was a regular case of love at first sight, for she never took her eyes off Taburet, offering him flowers and pea-nuts, and moving the flints out of his way. It was a real idyll. I felt pretty sure of the doctor’s power of resisting the blandishments of the syren, but still I thought it was as well to remind him of the negro eunuchs, who, if he did lapse from virtue, would be pretty sure to sew him up in an ox-hide, and fling him into what answered here to the Bosphorus. We arrived at Tenda laughing merrily,in spite of the condition of our socks and boots, which, soaked through and swollen as they were with the water we had shippeden route, hurt our feet dreadfully.

We had already been told that this village was the capital of Dendi, but for all that its appearance greatly surprised us, for it is surrounded with atatanearly seven feet high, and at its base is a moat no less than nine feet deep by four, twelve to fifteen feet wide. Throughout the Sudan I had never seen any fortification to equal it in the mass of material used. It is in an excellent state of preservation, and the crest of the wall is covered with sharp thorns, forming a regularchevaux de frise. It would be very difficult to take the place even with artillery. I was delighted to see so formidable a stronghold in these parts, and should the Toucouleurs who took Kompa try their skill on it, they will have their hands pretty full.

The whole population came out to meet us, and when we entered the village we found it had quite wide streets, which would have been clean but for the tornado of the morning, which had filled them with horrible mud. Splashed with dirt, like water-spaniels on their return from a shooting expedition in the marshes, we were introduced into an immense circular room, with a platform of earth at one end, forming the audience chamber of the chief. On the royal throne, or rather bench which represented it, was flung one of those horrible carpets such as are sold in bazaars, representing a fierce-looking tiger springing forward on a ground of a crude red colour, giving a note of civilization, if of rather a comic kind, to the whole apartment.

The chief now appeared, and turned out to be a very old but still vigorous man. Instead of a sceptre, he carried a cane encased in copper, and on the forefinger of the right hand he wore a ring, the stone of whichconsisted of a silver disk nearly six inches in diameter, quite hiding his hand. He sat solemnly down upon the carpet with the tiger; and our beauty of the road, who, it turned out, was his own daughter, took her place beside him, never ceasing to cast languishing glances at Taburet throughout the interview. I now spread out the presents I had brought, and set going a little musical-box. The sound from the latter caused such an excitement that the crowd outside managed to get into the audience hall, in spite of all the efforts of the guard, who plied their whips vigorously, even on the shoulders of the most beautiful of the besiegers. There was such a noise that I had to shout at the top of my voice in telling the chief our business; but it was all no use, I might as well have tried to play the flute beside a sledge-hammer in full swing.

THE MARIGOT OR CREEK OF TENDA.

The chief, perceiving that conversation was impossible, made me a sign to follow him, and we withdrew for ourpalaver to a court-yard surrounded with walls, a kind of stable where his horse was tied up. He shut the door behind him, but in an instant the walls were scaled, and there was as much noise and confusion as there had been before.

The chief then led me to a kind of store-room with a very narrow door, through which only one person could pass at a time, and that almost crawling on hands and knees. We filed in much as Esquimaux do into their snow-huts, and this time we were really free from intruders.

Yes, from intruders! but we were not safe from suffocation. The moment we were in our retreat, such a mass of women pressed up to the door, forming a kind of plug of human flesh, that we found ourselves gasping for breath and turning purple. We literally had to force our way out with our fists to get fresh air, and to drag the poor chief, who was already nearly insensible, out after us. He now declared that it was quite impossible to have a quiet talk with me in his village, but that if I would put off my start, he would come and see me on board the next day.

Meanwhile two horses had been brought out for us; we now mounted them and started for our camp. Unfortunately Arab saddles are rather hard. Moreover, mine had stirrups suitable only for the bare feet of the natives, and much too small for my shoes, so that I had to ride in a very uncomfortable position. Then once Taburet’s steed slipped into a hole, and the doctor took an involuntary bath, a complete one this time.

We still had twenty rifles and six pistols for presents to chiefs. Acting on my idea of trying to make Dendi rise as one man against the Toucouleurs, I resolved to give all these weapons to one person. The question was, who should that person be? I cross-examined our guide, the chief of the captives of Kompa, and by the exerciseof a really marvellous amount of diplomacy, I managed to get a very true notion of the exact political condition of Dendi, discovering that there were two capitals, that is to say, two villages big enough and densely enough populated to dominate all the others. These two were Tenda, which I had just seen, and Madecali lower down-stream on the right bank.

The more powerful and therefore the one to which the term “capital” could be more justly applied, was perhaps Madecali. For all that, however, I decided on choosing Tenda, which was more exposed to the depredations of the Toucouleurs than Madecali, the latter being in a more sheltered position, and moreover at war already with Burgu. So Tenda got the weapons, and we passed the evening in getting out the boxes of grape-shot for the machine-gun, which, when taken to pieces, provided us both with powder and bullets for our friends.

Faithful to his promise, the chief came to see us the next day. He came down the rocks overlooking our camp to the sound of his war-drums, made of calabashes with skin stretched across them. His suite consisted of some thirty mounted men, and about one hundred foot-soldiers. There was a certain barbaric splendour about the equipment of the former which was far from displeasing, and the saddle of the chief’s son, covered with the skin of a panther, was really both handsome and curious.

I had had strong ropes fixed round the camp, and posted numerous sentinels to keep back the crowd. Thanks to these precautions, we were at last able to have a talk without being suffocated.

My aim here, as it had been at Kompa and Goruberi, was to bring about a friendly league between all the tribes which had anything to dread from the Toucouleurs, andto induce those tribes to give up the defensive to assume the offensive. I concluded my speech by giving the chief the twenty rifles and the six pistols, with powder, bullets, and matchlock-flints, but I made one condition before parting with them, namely, that the weapons should never be separated; they were to arm the twenty-six bravest warriors of Dendi, who were to go to defend any village threatened by the common enemy. All I required was promised, the chief and notables alike declaring that they accepted my conditions. I don’t know whether they will keep their word, anyhow I have done my best.

An envoy from Djermakoy now came to visit us. He had come, he told us, to buy a horse at Tenda to give to Serki Kebbi on behalf of his master, for in Africa if you want anything you must never go to ask it empty-handed. He was to try and persuade the chief of Argungu to help Djerma, especially Dentchendu, against the Toucouleurs. I gave him a black and white banner for Serki, with instructions to tell him to accede to the request of Djermakoy for the sake of the good relations he had formerly been on with Monteil, as well as in his own interests. He could not fail to understand that if the Toucouleurs got the better of Djerma, they would attack him at Kebbi directly afterwards.

Baudry tried to persuade me to leave him at Tenda. He was bent on preaching a crusade against the Toucouleurs, for we were all very bitter against that infamous tribe of robbers and traders in human flesh, who after laying waste the Sudan, had, under pretext of a holy war, brought desolation, famine, slavery, and death to the peaceful if somewhat degraded races of the Niger basin.

I myself shared the sentiments which actuated Baudry, and could I have been sure that when I got to the coast I should be allowed to return with a sufficient force toback up our friends of Dendi effectually, I am not at all sure but that I should have granted his request.

Unfortunately, however, I knew only too well that in such cases as this, it is no good counting on anything, so I very reluctantly said no to my brave comrade.

If, however, we had not been obliged to stop at Say, because the authorities pretended they were going to send us instructions from France; if we had been allowed to winter in Dendi, I can confidently assert that the state of things there would have been completely changed. But it is too late now, and regrets are unavailing. All we can hope is that our example may be a lesson to travellers who come after us.

At ten o’clock we left our moorings at Tenda, and went to anchor opposite a little Fulah village, situated on an island a short distance above Gagno. We hoped to get some milk here, for we had had none for several days. At first the Fulahs ran away and hid themselves in the bush, to return timidly later. A few presents reassured them, and they became too friendly, begging with horrible persistency. Our hope of getting milk too was doomed to disappointment, for one small calabash of it, already turned sour, was all the natives would sell us.

A terrible tornado from the south-east, accompanied by heavy rain, overtook us that night. The bank scarcely protected us, and the surging water of the river made our boats roll in a very unpleasant, even dangerous, manner, for the prows of the barges were banged against the shore. Since we left Say the weather had been very unsettled, and the nearer we approached the equator the worse it got. Until we reached the coast we must expect rain every day now, and the state of exhaustion, even of sickness, of our men can be imagined, soaked to the skin every night as they were, in spite of the tarpaulins we stretched from onedeck to the other in the hope of sheltering them from the wet.

At eleven o’clock the next morning we arrived opposite Madecali, the second capital of Dendi, to which a little creek gives access, but some fifty-four yards up it our progress was arrested by shallows. Our guide went to the village, and soon returned with the news that the chief, Soulé by name, was coming. First came a canoe containing our envoy, then Soulé himself. A palaver of the usual kind ensued, but it did not seem likely to be as successful as usual in Dendi, for the attitude of the natives towards us was cold. There were some hundred warriors with Soulé all armed to the teeth, a proof that they did not feel very sure of our peaceable intentions. Truth to tell, there was nothing to be surprised at in the want of cordiality of the welcome we received. To take the bull by the horns, I myself confessed that I gave all the weapons I had left to the chief of Tenda, and explained the reasons for what I had done. Soulé replied that in so doing I had earned the gratitude of all Dendi, but for all that it was evident and very natural too, that he felt some little jealousy. Moreover, the people here did not hate the Toucouleurs, which was so much against us, for it was this hatred which had won us friendship at Tenda. As I have already said, Madecali had not suffered either directly or indirectly from their attacks, and it was with Burgu that its inhabitants were at war. Moreover, there was the memory of the Tombuttu affair, which took place a year before, and was thus related to me.

The people of Dendi had been very far from pleased at the Baud-Decœur expedition going to Say, and when our fellow-countrymen started to return to the coast, by way of the banks of the river, the general opinion was that they ought to be attacked. Fortunately the elders of the variouscommunities were too prudent to sanction this, and their counsels succeeded in curbing the impatience of the hotheaded, but at Tombutu the chief had just died, and the young warriors, deprived of his advice when it was most needed, did fall upon the French, getting the worst of it.

Though Madecali had really had nothing to do with the skirmish its people were afraid of our vengeance, or at least of a demand from us for compensation, and the first question Soulé put to me was, “Are you the same Frenchmen as came here last year?”

I had been promised a guide, but he did not appear, and our palaver grew more and more constrained. I had begun by a distribution of presents, and Soulé had already received a velvet burnous, a redbubu, and two pieces of Guinea cloth, to distribute among the notables of his village, but I now stopped my largesse, declaring that the other presents were at the bottom of the hold: we must be quiet if we were to get them out, and it was impossible to do so with such a crowd about us. They should be handed over, I added, to an accredited messenger from the chief, whom he would be good enough to send with the promised guide.

Tableau! Soulé, who from the specimens he had seen of them, knew that our goods were just what he wanted, was eager for more of them. He replied that he had no one he could send for the rest of the presents, to which I retaliated that I had said my last word.

To change the subject, the chief now asked me if I would not have my guns fired off in his honour, as I had in that of the chiefs of Kompa, Goruberi, and Tenda, so that his wives left behind in the village might hear them. I saw no reason why I should say no, so I had ten rounds fired from an 86-pounder at once, which the old fellow did not seem to like much. I followed this up with a round fromthe machine gun, and he evidently wished himself anywhere else. I completed the sensation by showing off what I could do with my revolver, and this completely finished him off. It was too much for his courage; he named a man to act as guide at once, and made a rapid exit from the camp.

We also got rid of the crowd, but for five or six men, who, not being able to get a place in any canoes, waited in the hope that we would take them on with us.

As I had promised, so would I perform. I had my guide, and Soulé should have his presents. In his haste to be gone he had forgotten to allude to them again, for all that I gave the first messenger who had arrived, theavant-courierof his Majesty, a very fine present to take to his master, including a little musical-box, the effect of which was tremendous. I then showed off a larger one, the little organ, and the phonograph. The last-named produced a profound sensation, so that we ended by getting on to quite good terms with the natives of Madecali.

Our guide did not belong to the village. He was a Kurteye who had settled near Soulé fifteen years before. He told me that when first his fellow-countrymen came from the West, they had thought of stopping near Bussa, but that the natives already occupying the district had prevented them, so then they went up beyond Say, where at last they found a refuge.

“A year ago,” he added, “Madecali had been at war with Gomba and also with Ilo, a big village with an important market, which we should come to lower down. Peace was however now restored, and at Ilo I should easily find guides to take me down to Bussa, the chief of which is a friend of Soulé’s. Moreover, he would himself look out for pilots for me. So many words, so many lies, I soon discovered, but for the moment we took them allfor Gospel truth, and were delighted at the thought of no longer having the prospect of perpetual palavers in each village before we could get guides.

Our visitor also bragged a great deal about the people of Madecali, how they were not afraid of the Foutanis; in fact, they were not afraid of anybody except perhaps Alim Sar. I made him repeat the name, and found he meant the former Amenokal of the Awellimiden, and I noted the fact as confirming my opinion of the importance of that confederation, that the name of the former chief was synonymous with power and strength. No one seemed to know that he was dead, and had been succeeded by Madidu.

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