Chapter 14

GALADIO’S GRANDSON.

Sunday, May 3.—The day before yesterday some strange news was brought us by a boy of about fifteen. He had been sent secretly to us by the Kurteye marabout we had seen when we were on our way to Say. A horrible plot was being concocted, he said, for Amadu, remembering the spells of his father, who had been a great magician at Hamda-Allâhi, had made an infallible charm against us. On somecopy-book paper, which had evidently been taken off our presents, he had written the most awful curses, imploring Allah seven times over to exterminate the Kaffirs, as he called us, and having washed the paper in water he made a goat drink the decoction thus produced. He then sent that goat to us, thinking we would buy it! But we were warned in time.

The awfulgrisgrisdid, in fact, arrive in camp yesterday in the form of a black goat. The poor creature did not look as if she were charged with venom. She was plump not too old, and would make a first-rate stew.

All our men were, however, afraid to have anything to do with her, for in their eyes she was indeed agrisgrisendowed with unholy powers by Amadu. The negroes are all superstitious, and their imagination often quite runs away with them. On the other hand, faith is sometimes wanting amongst the Mussulmans. Putting on an air of very great wisdom, therefore, we generously offered two cubits of stuff, worth about threepence-halfpenny, for the goat filled with spells against us, and when the trader who had brought her looked confused, yet almost willing to let us have her at that ridiculous price, we explained to him emphatically that our owngrisgris, thetubabu grisgris, had revealed to us the black designs of Amadu, and we intended to have him and his goat taken back to the other side of the river,manu militari, I very nearly said kicked back.

The Kurteye marabout who had warned us, was evidently a friend, unless the whole story was made up to get a present from us. Every evening now regular tornados broke near Say. Up-stream and down-stream, at Djerma and at Gurma, torrents of rain fell constantly, and the lightning flashed from every point of the compass; but, strange to relate, there was no rain at Say itself, and when there is no rain there is no harvest. The report was now spread that wehad called down on the village the curse of Allah. The other day Amadu Saturu had publicly recited theFatihain the Mosque in the hope of getting rain to fall, and we were told that in the meeting of the notables of the place, the Kurteye marabout had got up and asserted that Say was punished for having given a bad reception to a man sent from God, in other words, to the chief of our expedition, and because Amadu had broken his promise and all his solemn oaths.

Like my uncle Dr. Barth in Sarayamo, I now found myself looked upon as the bringer of storms. He had also been looked upon as a marabout saint, and theFatihahad been recited to him in the hope that he would open the floodgates of heaven. We, Kaffirs though we were, would soon in our turn be entreated to remove our interdict on the rain so much needed.

May 7.—Tierno, after many a discussion, has at last succeeded in getting us a courier in the person of an ivory merchant from Hombori. He will take our letters for Bandiagara, an advanced French post of Massina. Aguibu, king of Massina, and under our protection, had sent an agent to Hombori, which is on the road there. Our man would go for 200 francs, 100 payable at Bandiagara and 100 on his return to us. All, therefore, was for some days excitement and bustle in our camp. Maps, reports, letters were being rapidly got ready, and nobody had a moment to spare. Our courier, who did not seem to feel quite sure of his safety, sent to ask whether during his absence his family could go to our friend Galadio, who would protect them. We said yes, of course.

He returned a month later, and said he had not been able to get to Bandiagara. The Habés, who had risen in revolt, had robbed him near the village of Dé. He had only escaped with the greatest difficulty under cover of a tornado,leaving his packet of letters in the hands of our enemies. We think he romanced a good deal on the subject, and I fancy that a good search in Amadu Saturu’s camp would probably result in the discovery of our packet intact, except for being perhaps gnawed by termites.

I had some little doubt on the subject, however, and it is thanks to that doubt that the courier still has his head on his shoulders. I never saw him again.

May 13.—Great news! We are told by Osman that there are some white men on the Dori side of the river, but no one knows exactly how many. Barges full of white men are floating down-stream; they are now off Ansongo. There is talk of three iron boats like ours; those in them are all for peace, nothing but peace.

May 16.—Who is our friend Pullo bringing us this morning? Who is that man with him who looks like a Tuareg, dressed in blue Guinea cloth, with agrisgrison his head and a spear and javelin in his hand?

He is a Fulah, the foster-brother of Madidu, with his pockets full of news. Twenty days ago he said he had left his “big brother” to come to Say and sell four oxen for some of the cloth of the district. One of these oxen had died, another had been stolen. What a good opportunity to ask us to give him abubuto make up for his losses.

Madidu had not known that we were still at Say. Had he done so he would certainly have sent messengers, perhaps even have come himself. He or Djamarata would have visited us, for they had gone down the river as far as Ayoru to chastise Yoba for some want of respect to us, but I am sure I don’t know what.

Our Fulah had heard a rumour of four white men having come to trade on the Niger. Madidu had sent two of his blacksmiths to prepare the way before them, and he had also by this time sent envoys to Timbuktu to confirm thetreaty we had made with him. He did not know what had become of that treaty, but anyhow he had returned with his pocket (Heaven only knows the capacity of that pocket) full of knick-knacks and more than one present for Madidu.

The news of the approach of the barges was confirmed during the following days, and in my notes I find the following reference to them:—

May 17.—A man from Auru who had come to Say told us that at Ansongo there were three hundred armed men and seven or eight whites who had come in peace, nothing but peace, and were coming down the river soon, at least as soon as there should be water enough; at present they were arrested by the shallows. The white men, according to our informer, were French like ourselves.

The armed men have now increased to five hundred, and the white officers to eight, who are waiting for the rising of the river. Really these rumours were beginning to make us anxious. The barges began to assume in our imaginations the appearance of properly manned vessels, and we wondered if there really was anything of importance in the wind. Perhaps a party had been sent out from Timbuktu for Say to make sure that we had plenty of provisions, perhaps even to found a permanent post at the latter place. It would be good policy, but bearing in mind the temper of the natives, the probability was that we should not know anything for certain till we actually saw the French flag at the bend of the river, unless of course Madidu should inform us officially beforehand.

Suppose, however, that a French party had followed us, would they be able to pass? It would indeed be a bold thing to attempt to pass the rapids as we had done, aided as we were by the natives, and with such a skilful captain as Digui, who was used to coolies and knew how to manage them.

May 17.—The river is still falling, and above our island a little sand-bank is now laid bare, where we were able to leave theDavoustfor the repairs the damage done to her at Labezanga rendered necessary. Aided by Abdulaye, I undertook the task of patching her up, and found it a simple affair enough. Fortunately we had a sheet of aluminium in reserve, one only, it is true, but it was all we needed. We bent that sheet to the shape required, we bolted and riveted it all in a few days, and until the water rose again theDavoustremained high and dry in her dock on the sand.

THE ‘DAVOUST’ IN HER DRY DOCK.

The sand-bank was very useful to our coolies for bathing from, and was also turned to account by the women who came to our market for doing their washing. The deck of theDavoustbecame the rendezvous of everybody, and no doubt some strange episodes took place on and in the stranded vessel. The flesh is weak, and it was perhaps as well that the chaplain of the mission and his aide-de-camp,Baudry, who had charge of the police department, did not inquire too closely into what went on in the siesta hour.

May 18.—No storm at Fort Archinard, though it is pouring with rain all round. One would really suppose that we had agrisgrisor a fetich which enabled us to control the elements.

Three men came from Galadio to ask us to send him the treaty already alluded to. We gave them two copies of it, one of which was to be returned to us after being signed by Ibrahim if he approved of it. This treaty was a league of friendship between the French and him, agreeing to give mutual aid and protection throughout the whole of the districts subject to him or to the French to all who came in peace, whether as travellers or traders, whether actually the subjects, or only aliens under the protection of either of the contracting parties. Under all circumstances, in fact, and by every means in their power, Galadio and the French agreed to assist each other. Both would do their very utmost to make the road between Uro Galadio and Massina safe. Lastly, Ibrahim promised to make no agreement with any other European without having first consulted the French resident at Bandiagara.

Later the duplicate of this convention came back to us signed in beautifully clear and firm Arabic writing, after having been read and discussed at a general meeting of native notables. This valuable treaty had not been obtained by lavish presents, for we had already begun to practise economy, in view of the probable heavy expenses of the return journey, and we had warned Ibrahim that he must not expect costly gifts.

The convention was simple, direct, and easy to be understood by all. It was in my opinion the most complete treaty which could possibly be drawn up in these parts, and after its signature we had a right to rely upon theabsolute good faith of the other party to the contract, and to consider him our friend and our ally. You will see presently how much it was worth, and judge from that of the value of all treaties with negro chiefs, especially of those left with them, the contents of which have never been explained.

Another great piece of news! A Messiah has risen up, by name Bokar Ahmidu Collado, who is winning converts on the Liptako to the west of our encampment, between Say and Bandiagara. He has already had considerable success, and has received investiture from Sokoto with a banner, giving him the right to make war on the French. He went to Amadu Cheiku to ask for reinforcements, but that chief only gave him his blessing in a very frigid manner, saying, “Believe me, the time will come, but it is not yet come, for driving the white men from the Sudan, the land of our fathers. There is a country in the East bounded by a big creek (the Tchad?), and they must spread there first. As for me, I know the French too well to care to rub shoulders with them.”

Bokar Ahmidu Collado then went to Niugui, chief of the Cheibatan Tuaregs, and asked him to give him some men, but Niugui said to him, “Madidu will make war on me if I help against his friends the French.” “You have no faith,” answered the Messiah; “I will make you believe,” and he gave him a consecrated drink. Then they say Niugui saw, in the air above him, crowds of combatants armed with rifles and swords, with many mounted men, all following the Messiah and the triumphant Crescent. He still hesitates, however, on account of his salutary fear of Madidu.

Bokar Ahmidu Collado comes from a village of Farimaké, near Tioko. One of Galadio’s people from Wagniaka (Massina) knew him when he was quite young. “A poor fool that Collado,” he said to us, “who has not even beento Mecca, yet sets up for being a Messiah!” Moral: No man is a prophet in his own country.

Something special seemed to be going on all through the latter part of May; all manner of news pouring in, some of it really seeming very likely to be true. The barges at Ansongo constantly increased in number. The Toucouleur chief Koly Mody was about to abandon the cause of Amadu. Diafara, a man from Kunari, which had remained true to Agibu, was on the west of our camp to levy tribute in Hombari, to found a post at Dori, or to lead a very strong force of French and their allies into the district of Mossi. The people of Bussuma had been defeated and driven away, they had taken refuge at Wagadugu, which last-named rumour seemed to us most likely to be true, for it behoved the French Sudan to avenge the injury inflicted on French troops the previous year by the so-calledNabaof theNabas. What, however, were we to think of all the contradictory rumours which sprung up like mushrooms and grew like snowballs, to melt away almost as quickly as they took shape?

May 20.—A new visitor to-day, original if nothing more. Like every one else, he has his budget of news, and told us about the French column which is to operate in Mossi. We are beginning to attach very little importance to all this gossip. Our guest is a heathen, or, as Suleyman translates it, a Christian, explaining that he must be a co-religionist of ours, in that he has customs peculiar to the Christians—drinksdoloand gets drunk on it, of which he is very proud. He therefore belongs to our family, and that is why he has come to see his big brother, the commandant!

He calls himself a sorcerer, and seems a little off his head. Anyhow he talks great nonsense. Whilst we were questioning him he kept fingering a little goat-skin bag,out of which, when we were quite weary of his stupid replies, he drew a small phial full of oil of pimento, and a number of tiny little pots—the whole paraphernalia of magic, in fact. Having set out all these odds and ends on the ground, he proceeded to make somegrisgristo protect the hut in which he was from bullets.

He began by smoothing the sand of the floor with his hand, to bring good-fortune, he said, and he then skilfully drew with his finger in the sand four parallel lines forming parallelograms. These he combined two by two, three by three, four by four, and so on, reciting invocations all the time. He then rubbed all the first designs out and began again with fresh invocations, making the lines sometimes vertical, sometimes of other shapes.

TYPICAL MARKET WOMEN.

With a very solemn face, as if he were celebrating mass, he now drew forth a little satchel of ancient paper, written all over in Arabic by some marabout, and muttered some words, evidently learnt by heart, for he certainly could not read. At last, with an expression as serious as that of the Sphinx of the desert, he announced: “Hitherto you have had none but enemies in the land, no one in the whole country is your friend. Beware of the marabouts! Beware, above all, of one particular marabout! There is a young man ill here (this was Bluzet, who was just then lying down with an attack of fever), but it will not be much. You must sacrifice a white chicken for his recovery; have it broiled, and give it to the poor: this will conciliate the favourof the great prophet Nabi Mussa, or Moses. It will be best to give your charity to children. Then all thegrisgrisof the negroes and the marabouts will avail nothing against you. But beware, above all, on account of your men. If you cut away all the roots of a tree it falls. In the same way, if they take away your negroes, all will be over with you. Now I have come to give you agrisgrisfor them, which will protect them from all spells, and even fromcortésand other evils. I can even give you acortémyself, which will kill a man if you only throw the tiniest bit of it in his face.”

Thecortéis, in fact, the most terrible of all spells amongst the negroes. It is said to consist of a powder which slays from a distance. The natives say that if thrown from some miles off the man it touches dies, and the truth seems to be, that the sorcerers have the secret of a very subtle poison, which produces terrible disorders in those touched by it.

As a matter of course, we did not accept the offers of acortéor countercortéfrom Djula, but to give him an idea of the mischief we could do if we chose, I gave him a five-franc piece in a bowl of galvanized water, as I had the son of the chief of the Kel Temulai. I then told him to go to Mossi and have a look round there to see what would happen. He is a crazy old fellow enough, but I have been told that sorcerers have more influence over the Mossi and theirnabas, as they call their chiefs, than those who are in the full possession of their senses. He was willing to go, and when the Tabaski was over he would come backinch Allah, with envoys from Bilinga or Wagadugu.

Now Bilinga is eleven days’ march from Say, and eight days after he left us the old fellow came back pretending he had gone all the way. He had really never gonebeyond Say, and brought us all sorts of silly news only, so Digui took him by the shoulders and quite gently turned him out of the camp.

May 20.—As the so-called Tabaski fête approached, our visitors and the news they brought were greatly on the increase. Pullo, Osman, and the minor ambassadors vied with each other in the ingenuity of their inventions. The fact was, they all wanted to have newbubusfor the festive occasion, some money, some coppers to buy kola nuts, etc., not to speak of new bright-coloured undergarments for their wives. “What would the village people say, commandant,” they would urge, “if I, who every one knows to be a friend of the French, should cut anything but a good figure?”

THE MARKET AT FORT ARCHINARD.

Some few, however, were actuated by something more than a wish for presents on their visits to us. They wererather afraid of the column which was said to be operating in Mossi. Osman brought the chief trader of the market to us, a Wagobé, belonging therefore to the Sarracolais tribe, an intelligent man with a frank, open expression. His pretext for coming to see us was that he had a slave to sell, but he knew well enough that we never bought slaves. She had been brought from Samory’s camp, where prices for such merchandise were very low, there being a perfect glut of slaves in the market, and at the same time a scarcity of grain. The young girl, who was in good health, with all her teeth intact, had been bought for the modest sum of 10,000 cowries, about 10 francs, or the value of two sheep, or of a sack of millet. According to her owner, prices were much higher at Say, where a first-class female slave, that is to say, a young virgin, would fetch 200,000 cowries, whilst a strong young man was worth 150,000. Less valuable captives were cheaper, and some of the fifth-class went for as little as 100,000 cowries. These are of course commercial quotations, but as a matter of fact now and then a few are sold for as low a sum as 25,000 cowries.

The chief of the market brought us kola nuts, honey, rice, and milk. He mourned over the evil days which had fallen on Say. “All our roads,” he said, “are blocked on the north by the Tuaregs, on the west by the heathen Mossi, on the south by the Dendi, and on the east by the Kebbi and the Mauri. It is only rarely that a few caravans with a strong escort can get as far as Sansan Haussa, by way of Sergoe. A whole fleet of canoes, which went down to Yauri last year, had remained there for fear of the Dendikobés. The boatmen had founded a village there, and were now lost to Say. Then, besides that, things were not going as could be wished by those of the true faith. The Empire of Sokoto and its Emir were betweentwo fires, with Rabba on one side and the Serki Kebbi on the other.”

When Osman, returning to the charge, spoke to us again about the column supposed to have gone to Mossi, I said to him—“You see, the Naba of Wagadugu gave the same kind of reception to the Frenchmen who went to visit him last year as Amadu Saturu has given to us at Say. So the chief of the whites has given orders that his village should be destroyed, and it will be your turn next year, I hope.”

A WOMAN OF SAY.

They then went away plunged in reflection.

Visitors are all the fashion just now. On Thursday, May 21, a young man came to our market wearing abluebubutrimmed with blue and red printed calico, such as is made at Rouen. We had long known the owner of this costume, and when we recognized him we were ready to fling ourselves into his arms.

He at least was a genuine person, the son of the chief of Fafa, who had been such a good guide to us when we were amongst the rapids, the son of that old Fulah who wished to interpose his own body between me and Djamarata to protect me from harm. He came from Djamarata now, and we had no reason to doubt his good faith at least. He came, he said, to inquire after the health of the commandant, and to ask what state our boats were in after passing over the terrible rocks, etc. Djamarata assured us of his friendship. True, when we first arrived in his country the Tuaregs had been on their guard, but now that they were convinced of our pacific intentions, and saw that we molested no one, the Awellimiden were quite on our side, and had full confidence in us.

When our friend left us his goat-skin bag was full of presents. Here at least was one native who deserved well of us, for he had made a twenty days’ march to come and give us his master’s compliments.

May 24, Whitsunday.—It appears that the Mossi column is making good progress, at least we gather that it is, from the improved bearing towards us of the natives, but lies and all manner of false reports are still the order of the day.

Yesterday the fête of the Tabaski, or the Feast of the Sheep, was celebrated, which is not, it appears, of Mahommedan origin. The village of Talibia sent envoys to make friends in our camp, and some wretched-looking natives danced atam-tam. Others came to beg, and to all the poor creatures we gave something—a little salt, a mechanical toy, a cubit of cloth, or some other trifles. I also distributed a little money amongst our own men.

A regular descent was made on the camp by sellers of kola nuts,grisgris, etc. A number of women also came, amongst whom was a Toucouleur girl named Fanta. She said she had come to see if her brother was with us, but I suspect her motives were not quite so innocent as that. In the end, this girl became a dangerous enemy to us. After warning her off again and again, we at last had literally to drive her out of the camp. If we had not done so I expect she would have persuaded some of our men to desert, so great was her influence over them.

ENVOYS FROM THE CHIEF OF KIBTACHI.

Fanta was really a very reckless person, and is supposed to have poisoned a man whom she had persuaded to treason, but who had failed to achieve the result she had hoped by that treason. The native chiefs know only too well how easy it is to seduce men from their allegianceto travellers with the aid of some pretty fellow-countrywoman of theirs, and it is necessary to be always on guard against this sort of thing.

In the present case the Tabaski fête passed over quietly enough. We regaled our visitors with a little apparently impromptu fusillade, which we had really agreed upon beforehand amongst ourselves, giving the Koyraberos from Talibia a demonstration of the penetrating force of our bullets on the branches of some trees. “Bissimilaye! Bissimilaye!” cried old Suleyman Foutanké, hardly able to believe his own eyes.

June.—No rain at Say yet! It really looks as if we had cast a spell upon the place, the more so that the want of rain was accompanied by a plague of locusts. We had invoked the aid of Moses against our enemies, and now, like him, I had brought upon the natives of the land of our exile clouds of locusts to devour all green things. The people were in despair. A drought and locusts together meant perhaps the complete destruction of the harvest. But there is always some good in everything, and the Koyraberos flung themselves, armed with sticks, into the thickest part of the swarms, beating down the insects, which were picked up by the children, and stowed away in theirbubus. Fried and seasoned, the locusts made a very appetizing change of diet.

Our men from Senegal, however, made great fun of those who ate them; they were themselves much too civilized for such food as that. “The Koyraberos,” Digui said to me, “are regular savages!” and it was worth something to hear the tone of contempt in which he gave utterance to this insulting remark.

The chief of Kibtachi, a big Haussa village down-stream, sent us various presents and made many promises to us. He also begged us most politely to visit him when wepassed later. “Why,” he said, “did you not come to Kibtachi to begin with, instead of stopping with Saturu, who wishes you no good?” Talking of presents, Galadio, when he returned the signed treaty, sent a wonderful collection of gifts, including kola nuts, symbolic of friendship, with calabashes full of honey, and bags of baobab flour, the medicinal effect of the two being totally different, the honey acting as an emollient, the flour as an irritant.

The chiefs of the Sidibés, Kurteyes, Sillabés, etc., all vied with each other now in sending messengers to us to assure us of their friendship, and yet another notable, chief of the Torodi Fulahs, asked us to make just such a treaty with him as we had with his friend Galadio. “Galadio and I,” he wrote to us, “are together like two teeth of the same comb!” A happy metaphor indeed, a regular literary gem!

Yes, indeed, they all belonged to the same comb, these native friends of ours, and as yet we did not suspect how very dirty that comb was.

Presently we heard of a split amongst the Toucouleurs, and that the Gaberos had had enough of Amadu. They sent, in fact, to beg me to intercede for them with my friend Madidu, and to get him to let them return to his country. There were more fresh quarrels too between the Toucouleurs and the Sidibés. Amadu had put a Hadji marabout of the Sidibé tribe in irons, and by way of reprisal the Sidibés had seized three Toucouleurs at Yuli, opposite Dunga. The hostile tribes were, in fact, snarling at each other from the two banks of the river, and showing their teeth rather like porcelain dogs, only in this case the dogs were jet black.

The Sidibés, according to Pullo Khalifa and the son of their chief, who came to us with him, were disposed to throw themselves upon our protection. If, they said,Amadu had not set their Hadji free in three days, the Sidibé women with their flocks and herds would be placed under the protection of our guns!

Would this be the spark which would set fire to the gun-powder? Hurrah! If it were, our protectorate would become an effective one; we should have a finerôleto play; that of intervening in favour of a native coalition against the parasitical Toucouleurs, the hereditary enemies of French influence in Africa.

A COBBLER OF MOSSI.

All, then, was tending in the direction of our hopes. A good job too, for the river was falling, falling, falling. Our island was completely transformed, for a big isthmusof sand and flints now united it to the right bank. Hundreds of determined men, or of men driven in from behind, might pour into the camp any night now, as into some popular fair.

Reassured though we were by what we heard of the political condition of the country, and by all these protestations of friendship, we yet awaited the 14th July with impatience, and we celebrated its passing as joyfully as possible when it came at last. No sooner was it over, however, when slowly and quietly, and at first very doubtfully, certain bad news filtered through, which gradually gained certainty.

For once, indeed, there was no doubt about the evil tidings, which were diametrically opposed to all that the politeness of the natives would have had us believe. The whole country, Toucouleurs, people of Say, of Kibtachi, and of Torodi, with the Sidibés, the Gaberos and others, had combined against us and were marching to attack us.

Naturally no one had thought fit to warn us. It was Osman, poor fellow, who, in spite of himself, put us on the scent, and gave us the alarm. He meant to play the part of an angel of light, but, as is often the case, hisrôlewas really quite the reverse.

One fine day he said to us point-blank, “There is no cause for anxiety now, you can sleep with both ears shut, for Amadu Saturu and Amadu Cheiku are both most favourably disposed towards you.”

“Why do you tell us that, Osman?” I asked. “I feel sure you have some very good reason, but take care what you say. You are lying, I know. Amadu is really trying to pick a quarrel with us.”

“Bissimilaye!not a bit of it,” was the reply. “He is only getting his column together to move against Djermakoy.”

I had never been told a word about that expedition, and the fact seemed strange, so I said—

“Osman! you are telling a lie. What column is going against Djermakoy?”

Then with much hesitation, and turning as pale as a negro can when he has got himself into a hobble, he began to tell us how all the people of Say, and the Toucouleurs, in fact, all the natives, had united to march on Dentchendu, a big village of Djerma, the very centre of the Futanké agitation, but that before actually starting they were all coming to Say to receive the benediction of Saturu, who would recite the Fatiha to the glory of the Prophet on the tomb of his ancestor, Mohammed Djebbo, who had founded the town.

FORT ARCHINARD.

I understood at once, and really the plan to surprise us had not been at all badly thought out. “Well, Osman,”I said, “you will warn Modido that if the Toucouleur column camps in or near his village, in which he declined to receive us, it will mean war with us.” “Oh!” cried Osman in his dismay, “the whole column will not come, only the chiefs, with Ahmidu Ahmadu, the leader of the troops.”

Then he tried to undo what he had done, and told quite a different story, saying he had been mistaken; Saturu would go and give the benediction to the column on the bank near Djerma.

We were warned now; a big column really was assembled. We made discreet inquiries on every side, and all the news we heard confirmed the fact. Pullo himself now ventured to be explicit, and told us to be on our guard.

The palm of deception and treason must be given in this case to a Fulah from Massina, called Ahmadu Mumi, but we were the ones to reap the benefit of his evil-doing. Born in the village of Mumi, near Mopti, on the Niger, all his people had been killed by the Toucouleurs when El Hadj Omar won his great victory. He himself had been taken prisoner, and dragged behind the horses of his captors to Say, where, bruised, bleeding, and in rags, he was sold. Of course, as a natural consequence, he hated the Toucouleurs with an intense and bitter hatred, but he was later bought by the chief of Say, who set him free. He became the confidant and friend of his liberator, so that, as he explained to us, he knew better than any one else what was going on, and was therefore better able to betray Saturu.

He did betray him too, for a high price, revealing to us all the preparations our enemies were making against us. Amadu, it appeared, aided by the chief of Say, had rallied every one all round to his standard, and to win over the lukewarm, vague hints were thrown out of going to getslaves amongst the Djermas on the left and the Gurmas on the right bank of the river. All would meet at Say for the benediction, and then at the critical moment, Madidu, pretending to be suddenly supernaturally inspired, would exclaim—“Listen! what says the prophet? Leave the Gurmas and the Djermas alone. It is against the infidels, the Kaffirs of Talibia, that you must march. It is their destruction which will please God!” Then every one would be carried away by enthusiasm, and urging each other on, would rush in their fanatical zeal to the attack of our little island.

A MARKET WOMAN.

None but the chiefs knew of the plot, Ahmadu Mumi told us, but he had been so placed that he could tell what they were all thinking of. Double traitor that he was, he used to go backwards and forwards from Say to Dunga, and from Dunga to Fort Archinard, spying and taking bribes now from one side, now from the other. When with us he would say all he wanted was revenge on the Toucouleurs.

Well, we merely said “All right!” and set to work with feverish activity to double our abattis, which the tornados had somewhat damaged, and to build new loopholed redoubts round the camp. On July 14 we were all eagerly engaged in preparing for the defence of our fort, and I don’t suppose any one gave a thought to the review at Longchamps, or to the public balls going on in Paris at this festive time. As in all crises and times of difficulties, our coolies rose to the occasion, and showed themselves morefull of zeal, better disciplined, more thoroughly in hand under their French officers than they had ever done before, so that when we saw the smoke from the camp of the allies rising up above Say, we were all perfectly ready for the attack.

Ready to make the besiegers pay dearly for their temerity at least, but it would not do to count upon all of us coming safe and sound out of the affair: the forces were too terribly unequal for that. Amadu had five hundred guns with him, and the Toucouleurs are brave, especially when their fanaticism has been aroused. A certain number of the captives taken by the Tuaregs had also come from Sorgoe to join hands with them. Aliburi, too, the hero of Cayor of Yuri memory, was there, and in a night attack all these auxiliaries would be very formidable adversaries to us. We wondered how many warriors there were altogether, including those armed with bows and arrows or spears only. It was very difficult to form an idea, for negroes never allow their numbers to be counted when they go to war. They think it brings bad luck. There was, however, no doubt that at this time Amadu could muster from ten to fifteen hundred combatants.

And to oppose to all this rabble, we were but forty-five, even if we counted in our scullions.

The worst of it was, a good many of our cartridges had got damaged, partly by the great heat and partly by the damp. The damage was such that at the first shot the weapon might become useless for the rest of the fight, a serious matter when we were so few.

It certainly seemed as if we were in for it at last!

Several nights passed by in suspense, and we all slept badly. On the north we could see the gleam of many moving torches in the forest, for from Talibia to Say signals were being made. Torches of straw were lit andput out three by three, but what these signals portended we could not tell.

July 17.—It seems that the attack on our camp is now decided upon, for our spy tells us we shall be assailed from the right bank in the night when there is no moon. The Toucouleurs are camped at Tillé above Say. At the benediction to be given at three o’clock Amadu Saturu will stir up the people. We might expect the first alarm at about ten o’clock. Ahmadu Mumi spoke very positively, though he explained that he could not be absolutely certain, and anyhow not a woman had come to the market that morning. Osman, on the other hand, stoutly denied the report, but this only made us more sure of its truth, and we doubled our sentries in preparation for a night which might perhaps be our last.

A FULAH WOMAN.

We waited and waited, but nothing happened. We heard nothing that night, as on so many others, but the howling of the monkeys and the murmuring of the rapids down-stream.

Everything remained quiet the next day too, and gradually all the smoke faded away, whilst the light of the torches was extinguished. The women, who had deserted our market, returned as if there had never been any reason for their absence, and all went on as before. We knew now that the column was again dispersed, the warriors had drawn back at the very last moment, and had gone off in small parties to take slaves in Djerma, or to attack Dosso.All the energy they had displayed with regard to us had been simply wasted.

It had been enough for us to assume a firm attitude, and for the natives to know that we had been warned. To maintain a firm attitude seems rather like a quotation from Tartarin de Tarascon, for we should have found it difficult enough to defend ourselves. How should I have been able to make good my threats that I would burn Say on the first alarm?

It seemed, however, that Saturu really was rather alarmed, lest harm should happen to his town. He would not let the column camped near it enter Say, and the Friday benediction was only after all pronounced on the chiefs. Their secret they knew had leaked out, they had seen us strengthen our defences, and they hesitated after all to attack us. The knowledge of the bloodshed which would inevitably ensue had greatly cooled the enthusiasm of all not quite mad with fanaticism, and many whose adherence had been counted on as certain had failed to put in an appearance. Then the rain had something to do with damping the ardour for war. The daily storms, which had come at last, completed the demoralization of the rabble. They had missed their aim, because we, who were that aim, had been on our guard, and some went off one way, others another, to hunt slaves instead of rushing upon our defences.

We had had a narrow escape, but it was a complete one, for the new moon was rising now, and the river was rapidly increasing in depth, adding each day to the efficiency as a defence of the ditch which divided us from the mainland and our enemies.

We were saved! but for a whole week we had been face to face with the melancholy prospect of ending our lives on this remote island, and often and often as we watchedwe wondered whether, if we were massacred, we should be better or more quickly avenged than our predecessor Flatters had been.

We now understood all the false rumours which had been spread of French columns marching in the neighbourhood, and of all these columns were going to do. The reports were spread merely to induce us to leave ourtata, where we were in comparative security, and which the Toucouleurs seemed to look upon as impregnable. Our enemies wanted to decoy us to go and meet our comrades, so that they might fall on us in the bush, where the odds would have been against us, and so destroy us altogether.

Then when they saw how we took the rumours, we heard they changed their tactics, and tried to throw us off our guard again by talking about making friends, signing treaties, and so on, meaning, if they could secure our confidence, to fall suddenly upon usen masse. The plan was ingenious certainly, but those who concocted it had reckoned without allowing for Osman’s stupidity.

What became of the Toucouleur column after all? Not having dared through fear of our guns to march against us, it had turned its attention to Dentchendu, a big village on the left bank; but the chief hesitated too long in this case also, giving time for the inhabitants to receive warning, to put their village in a state of defence, and send all the useless mouths away.

Again the Toucouleurs were too late, and besides, as Osman, who still visited us in spite of all our rebuffs, told us, the poison of the Dentchendu arrows is very dangerous.

All these warriors are fond of fighting and going on slave raids, for the glory of the Prophet, but they take very good care of their own skins. We wondered if the Toucouleurs who remained faithful to Amadu would become cowards like his own people through contact with them. Our experiencesmade us think that we were indeed far from the heroic days, when the Senegalese Foutankés, in the battle of Kale, charged a column on the march to rescue the wives of Ahmadu who had been taken prisoners, stopping suddenly beneath a hail of bullets from the French sharp-shooters to prostrate themselves, and make a propitiatory salaam.

Having through fear abandoned the idea of attacking us at Fort Archinard, the column wandered in the rain from village to village, and was received everywhere with apparent friendship by the terrified inhabitants, so that all the fire ended in smoke, though no one seemed to know exactly why.

LAUNCHING OF THE ‘AUBE’ AT SAY.

The check the Toucouleurs had received made it possible for some of the chiefs to show us sympathy, whether feigned or real it was impossible to tell. Amongst these was Hamma Tansa, chief of the Sillabés, who was rather an originalcharacter for a native. He was something of an epicure, what we should call a jolly good fellow, but charitable to others. He kept open house, or rather hut, and always had a lot of friends about him, whom he treated to everything. When he was informed that the meal was served, he used to jump up, flap his whitebubuas he would wings, and shout, “Let’s fall to!”

He was literary too, and the missives he sent us, written on little plaques of wood, were, in accordance with Arab usage, very polite, and sometimes even in verse. He said he meant to pay us a visit, was most anxious to do so in fact, but somehow he never fulfilled his promise: either he had not time, or he was afraid of Amadu, or something else.

One fine day our old friend Hugo appeared again, sent to us by the chief of the Kurteyes, and who, thanks to Taburet’s skill, had now quite recovered from the affection of the eyes from which he had been suffering. He sent us a message to the effect that, as long as the river was low, he and his people were afraid of the Toucouleurs; “but wait,” he added, “till it rises, for then the Kurteyes are the kings of the Niger; no one can get at us, and we shall be able to shake hands with you.”

The most devoted and zealous of all our friends, however, was Galadio, and there was a perpetual going and coming between his village and our camp. Marabouts, griots, traders, etc., were constantly arriving, telling us, “I am from Galadio’s village,” and we received them, from motives of policy, with open arms, buying from them rather than from others, giving them presents, and plenty of kind words. They all sang the praises of their master, and he really did show himself to us in a very amiable light. He was perhaps if anything rather too gushing.

At my request he sent us the female blacksmith ofBokar Wandieïdiu, to whom I have already alluded, to help us to complete our Tuareg vocabulary. She was accompanied by a marabout named Tayoro, a Fulah from Wagnaka in Massina, a very distinguished and refined-looking old man, with a white beard, who came from Konnari in the same district, and whose name was Modibo Konna.

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