Chapter 7

THE TADEMEKET ON A DUNE ON THE BANKS OF THE NIGER.

I harangued my people. Peace was restored, and that so completely that we were presently amusing ourselves with catching the goats grazing on the island and decking them out with collars of different-coloured velvets.

Some negroes, who lived in a village on a little island near ours, came to see us, bringing us some sheep. They did not seem at all excited about what was going on, and in truth were accustomed to the ways of the Tuaregs.

“They are dancers,” one of them said to me, pointing to the Tademeket, who still continued to gesticulate at us.

The next day, March 1, we continued our journey, accompanied as before by Tademeket on the right bank. We passed the Burrum islands, where the river is very wide, and beyond which it flows between two lines of dunes forming its banks.

The scenery is perhaps finer here than anything else we have seen on the Niger. The mighty dunes look as if they had never been disturbed by man, for the wind at once obliterates all trace of the footsteps of passers by. There is a melancholy poetry about them, and their outlines are rather marked than disguised by the thin line of green bush at the edge of and in the water. How well I understand the effect produced on the traveller by the Sahara in spite of its apparent monotony. It exercises on those who gaze on it for long at a time something of the hypnotic attraction of the sea. I am not the only one who feels in this way about the dune of Africa, for Baudry one day read us the following sonnet he had composed on the subject:—

THE DUNE.Vague summits on the dim, far distance rise;Then wâdys, mirage, and that northern passWhere flocks in summer seek the mountain grass;Next, this long sand-hill that outstretchèd lies;Nought else! Six æons long the solar dyesHave steep’d the dune with ochreous gold and brass;Flash’d in the silica like broken glass,And dried the courses dug by wrathful skies.Yon camel’s formless bulk against the blueSeems parcel of the wild chaotic scene;With grounded lance and figure sharp in view,His master stands, a statue—well-knit, lean—Then striding slow athwart the tawny sand,Sits motionless beside the river strand.

THE DUNE.

Vague summits on the dim, far distance rise;Then wâdys, mirage, and that northern passWhere flocks in summer seek the mountain grass;Next, this long sand-hill that outstretchèd lies;Nought else! Six æons long the solar dyesHave steep’d the dune with ochreous gold and brass;Flash’d in the silica like broken glass,And dried the courses dug by wrathful skies.Yon camel’s formless bulk against the blueSeems parcel of the wild chaotic scene;With grounded lance and figure sharp in view,His master stands, a statue—well-knit, lean—Then striding slow athwart the tawny sand,Sits motionless beside the river strand.

Vague summits on the dim, far distance rise;

Then wâdys, mirage, and that northern pass

Where flocks in summer seek the mountain grass;

Next, this long sand-hill that outstretchèd lies;

Nought else! Six æons long the solar dyes

Have steep’d the dune with ochreous gold and brass;

Flash’d in the silica like broken glass,

And dried the courses dug by wrathful skies.

Yon camel’s formless bulk against the blue

Seems parcel of the wild chaotic scene;

With grounded lance and figure sharp in view,

His master stands, a statue—well-knit, lean—

Then striding slow athwart the tawny sand,

Sits motionless beside the river strand.

Every now and then our Tuareg companions reappeared from behind the yellow crest of sand, but their enthusiasm of the morning had considerably cooled down. Horses and men alike were tired, and the latter were dragging the former along by their heads, all presenting a most pitiable appearance. Thus escorted we arrived about five o’clock in the evening at the village of Bia on the left bank.

Ibrahim, the son of Sala, did not care to go any further. We persuaded an old Songhay who lived in the village to take his place. Strange to say, though the Tademeket continued their vociferations on the right bank, there was no sign of hostility from the left, which made me hopeful for the future. We saw natives on foot and on horseback pass, and they stared curiously at the boats, but showed neither fear nor anger.

Night fell, and we had sat down to supper, when all of a sudden there was a great noise like that of paddles beating the water, or horses swimming. To arms! was the cry, and the next moment all were at their posts. The people of the village of Bia shouted to us that it was onlythe cattle of the Tuaregs crossing a little arm of the river; but unfortunately for their veracity, we saw the next morning that there was neither arm nor creek anywhere near. Whatever may have been the cause of the noise I am glad it disturbed us, for it proved to me that should an emergency arise our men would behave well and quietly.

A minute later a canoe from the right bank appeared, in which was a man who hailed us and offered us a sheep. He said he was agabibi, or negro, and lived in a village some little distance in the interior. His pale complexion, however, led us to suppose that he really was a Tuareg who had come to spy on us. He had arrived when our coolies were all at their posts, and we hoped he would report what he had seen.

On March 2 our enemies the Tademeket had all disappeared, but their place was taken by another tribe, the Tenger Eguedeche, with whom were a few Kel es Suk. A religious war had no doubt been proclaimed in the country, and it was to an accompaniment of shouts ofLa illa il Allah!that we pushed on. Every now and then all our escort performed a solemnsalaam, prostrating themselves on the ground. We began to be very wrath, and I should have given the order to fire on the least provocation. Once more, however, an unforeseen circumstance calmed down my rising martial ardour. We were no longer followed by men only, but by numbers of women and children. Amongst them was a little chap as round as a barrel, who kept picking up handfuls of dust and flinging them in our direction. He shall be the first victim I resolved, but let’s have patience. A Kel es Suk, mounted on a big white camel, who headed the procession now, had never lost sight of us since we left Tosaye. He little knows to what a trifle he owes the preservation of his life.Twenty times the muzzle of my rifle covered him, and twenty times I reflected that we were not running any immediate danger, and that there would be nothing particularly brave in drawing the trigger on an unlucky wretch, who was probably merely ignorant.

Thus attended we arrived in due course at the village of Ha, on a little tributary of the Niger. We cast anchor, and tried to open negotiations; but the inhabitants fled from us like a swarm of grasshoppers. They shouted at us to go away, and when we asked for the chief of the village, they replied that he was with the Tuaregs. We waited an hour, in vain. The village was now entirely deserted, and no chief appeared. To make up for this, we heard thetabalaor war-drum being beaten on every side, and a compact mass, consisting of from 500 to 600 warriors, took up their position opposite our anchorage, shouting louder even than the day before.

We thought we really had better try a little intimidation, for since the morning they had kept telling us that our guns and cannon would not go off, for Allah had forbidden them to. To show them therefore what our weapons were really capable of, I decided to send a shell over their heads at random, and we heard it burst far away in the distance. The band at once dispersed like a flight of sparrows, but their first terror over, they formed up again, and advanced with a courage which I could not but admire. There was nothing left to do, if we wished to avoid a real conflict, but to set sail, so we went and cast anchor a couple of miles further on, opposite Mount Tondibi, or the Black Mountain, as it is called in Songhay, though why I cannot say, as it really is of a beautiful orange-red.

The next day was a repetition of what this had been. The Tenger Eguedeche followed us, howling. We anchored for breakfast off the right bank, and they withdrew to ashort distance, but continued to spy upon us, and yelled at us when we left.

At about two o’clock we suddenly saw coming along the bank from the opposite direction, a fine-looking, handsome Tuareg, riding a splendid black horse. His clean clothes and well-kept person showed that he was a chief. He advanced towards the crowd, who had halted when they caught sight of him, and said a few words, at which they all stopped shouting and squatted down. He then came towards us, made us what seemed a friendly sign with one hand, and leaning on his iron spear, the copper ornaments on which gleamed in the sunshine, he watched us pass by.

After this, not a word, not a cry was heard, and the right bank appeared perfectly deserted; only here and there behind some bush, the glitter of weapons revealed the presence of a concealed Tuareg sentinel watching our movements.

I learnt afterwards that the Tuareg on the fine horse was an envoy from Madidu, sent to the Tenger Eguedeche, to order them to cease from their hostile demonstrations. The Amenokal sent them word that he considered he was the only person who had a right to decide how strangers should be treated; and therefore, until he had made up his mind, no one was to show us either friendship or hatred.

We had some little difficulty in understanding our guide. The Songhay he spoke was so unlike that in use in Timbuktu. Towards evening he wanted us to go up a little creek on the left, at the end of which, with the aid of our glasses, we saw a number of camels grazing; but not knowing why so many animals were assembled here, for they are generally kept some little distance from the river, I thought it more prudent to anchor opposite the village of Forgo, on an island. We heard thetabalabeating around us again. About eight o’clock a canoe approached,in which was the brother of the chief of the village, who hailed us. I did not at all like his reserved manner. He kept on talking about thetabalaof Madidu, which, he said, could be heard when it was beaten all over the country from Burrum to Ansongo. He promised us some presents from his brother, but, needless to say, we never saw them.

We started very early the next morning, winding our way amongst the numerous islands dotting the river.

Presently on our left we saw some beautiful trees with bushy foliage, and all of a sudden from their midst arose a greyish mass of the shape of a truncated pyramid. There was not the slightest doubt that it was the tomb of the founder of the Songhay dynasty, Mohamed Askia, and that we were close to Garo or Gao; Garo, the ancient capital of the Western Sudan; Garo, the most powerful city ever founded by negro civilization, the metropolis from which radiated the various routes bringing to the Niger the produce of the Tchad districts and of Egypt; Garo, which but two Europeans, Mungo Park and Dr. Barth, had ever seen.

Our emotion at this stage of our journey can be better understood than described. From what was once the mighty town of Garo the river mists of the morning rose up; from a dead city now, but one which it was perchance our mission to restore. A great people, whose heart this lost city may be said to have been, once lived and flourished here. The Askias had united under their banner all the African states from Lake Tchad to the Senegal, and from the desert to Say. The Songhay empire was then not only the most powerful in Africa, but of the whole contemporary world.

Felix Dubois, in his book calledTimbuktu the Mysterious, gave an account, founded on theTarich es Sudan, of the Songhay, which supplements well the information given toBarth about the people who once dwelt in the great empire named after them.

To add to what these great authorities have said would be mere waste of time. I must remark here, however, that I was struck by the fact that lower down the Niger the Songhay have taken the name of Djerma, which is that of the district and its inhabitants where they now dwell. This name Djerma is also that of the North African oasis which was known to the ancients as Garama, or the land of the Garamantes. The resemblance between the two cannot fail to strike every one.

I wonder whether the two words Djerma and Garama have the same origin? and if the Garamantic race, or, as it is also sometimes called, the Sub-Ethiopian, may not have been the primitive source of all the negro tribes which now people the Western Sudan.

If it be so, the greater number of the ethnic revolutions which have convulsed the country have really after all been merely a struggle for ascendency between three races—the Negro, which I have just been discussing; the Berber, of which the Tuaregs are the purest representatives; and lastly, the so-called Fulah race, which came from the east, and may possibly be descended from the ancient Egyptians.

I give my idea for what it is worth, whilst waiting for a more exhaustive study to be made of local dialects or the discovery of ancient manuscripts which shall throw a clearer light on the subject.

The Songhay empire of Garo, which was at one time so splendid, had within itself the germs of its own decay, for its chiefs were Mussulmans. The polygamy permitted by Islam gives to each one of them in his numerous descendants a perfect legion of possible rivals ready to dethrone him and usurp his power. It is to this, and yet more to the hateful morality of the Mahommedans, always ready tofind an excuse for the most heinous crimes, that the Askias owe their rapid decline.

Other emotions, however, besides those connected with historical memories, agitated us when we came in sight of all that was left of Garo. It was there we were told that we should know what were to be our relations with the Awellimiden, and my own conviction still was—the event proved that I was right—that it would be easy enough for us to pass through their country with the consent of their chief Madidu, but terribly difficult to do so without it.

We wended our way carefully amongst the submerged islets here encumbering the course of the Niger, passing many big villages with thatched huts, and seeing through our binoculars large numbers of natives assembled here and there. The whole of the district bears the name of Gao, or Gao-gao, a corruption of the old Garo. We succeeded, not without difficulty, in approaching the central village, the mosque of which serves as a kind of landmark. But the bank was very low and partially inundated. It was really a rice plantation belonging to the inhabitants, and we soon came to a standstill.

The appearance of the village and its surroundings was far from reassuring. The negroes quickly vacated their huts, and some wading, others in canoes, hurried off with all their chief valuables, whilst beneath the trees and on the higher banks collected groups of Tuaregs, some on horseback, others on foot, watching our movements in silent immobility. All were in full martial panoply, with spear, sword, and huge buckler. I made a white flag with a dinner napkin and hoisted it on a bamboo stem, which I stuck in the damp ground. We then waited results.

A long and anxious pause ensued. The blacks continued to fly, the Tuaregs appeared to be consulting together. At last two negroes came forward from the bank, andwaded through the mud, which was above their knees, towards us, but they halted at a respectful distance. They were evidently in a great state of alarm, and would only converse with us from afar off; if we attempted to approach them they decamped. It was a good half-hour before we were able to reassure them sufficiently for them to come close to us, and even then they still trembled.

The two messengers turned out to be Armas, relations of the chief of the village. Their first articulate words were a prayer that we would go to an island they pointed out to us rather more than a mile away, for they said they were afraid we should come to blows with the Tuaregs, and that their village would suffer.

We tried to reassure them, telling them we had not come to make war; quite the reverse, we wanted to make friends with the Tuaregs. To begin with, would they tell us where Madidu was? Madidu, was the reply, was not far off, though not actually in the village. And what, we went on, was the meaning of all this gathering of forces, as if they were threatened with war? It was to defend themselves, they said, against a raid of the Kel Air, which they had been told was about to take place. I avoided replying that the Kel Air were far away on the east and north, and that it seemed extraordinary that warriors should have gathered on the banks of the Niger to repulse them.

But to return to the question really at issue. I begged the envoys to announce to Madidu the arrival of the nephew of Abdul Kerim, whom his father had received and treated well some fifty years before; adding that we had not come to do any harm, in proof of which I urged that when the Tademeket and the Tenger Eguedeche had declared war against us we had not even answered their challenge.

My uncle, I went on, had given El Khotab a horse, Inow brought the saddle for that horse to El Khotab’s son. I then uncovered a splendid velvet saddle embroidered with gold, the handsomest present I had with me, for it seemed to me that if ever the moment arrived for placing it well, it was at this juncture. The Sultan of France, I explained, had sent me to the chief of the Awellimiden to discuss matters concerning them as well as the French, and I wished for an interview with him, or at least with his accredited representatives.

PANORAMA OF GAO ON THE SITE OF THE ANCIENT GARO.

Our visitors then withdrew, and we waited four hours longer without news. At the end of that time the same negroes reappeared, to tell me that Madidu was then in the village with a large retinue (I greatly doubted the truth of this), and was at that moment consulting with his principal advisers. But, they added, to prove your good intentions towards the natives, go to the island. That will also show that you mean no harm. Madidu’s envoys will come to you there.

I preferred yielding to this pressing invitation to go than acting in a high-handed manner. Moreover, I was not sorry to put a little distance between myself and the Tuaregs, for it was very evident that in any discussion about us nine out of ten would vote for attacking us, and in our island we should be perfectly safe from surprise. We should see what to-morrow brought forth.

We estimated the number of warriors now assembled on the bank at several thousand; it was a very different matter from the gathering of the Tademeket and Tenger Eguedeche higher up stream.

We set sail, therefore, and when night fell we were camped in our new position. In memory of our old and valued friend Gauthiot, who, as I have related, had defended our expedition from all the detractors in France who would have jeopardized its success, I named after him thislittle corner of earth in the river, our river, where our fate was really to be decided.

If I said that I slept peacefully and well that night I do not suppose any one would believe me.

To face tangible dangers in a struggle with nature or with one’s fellow men, greater or less courage is required, but what we had to do now was to meet such hidden risks, as the miner who goes to his work, not knowing at what moment he may be suffocated, blown up, or crushed to death. Even the miner, however, gets accustomed to the risk he runs, but what no one ever becomes used to is the long mental fatigue of the responsibility of knowing that one mischosen word, perhaps even one wrongly translated word, will be enough to doom to destruction all those who have joined their fortunes with yours with full confidence in you, for whom you are all and everything for the time being.

PALAVER AT GAO.

Father Hacquart slept no better than I did that anxious night. Would he have slept if I had let him retire to his couch? Who can tell? I needed his counsel and hisexperience, so we neither of us closed an eye, for we discussed the situation, and what we should say, the next day, for the whole night.

The result of our conference was, that we resolved to do the best we could under whatever circumstances might arise, for to foresee them was impossible; in a word, as sailors say, “Trim our sails according to the weather.”

The Father, moreover, took an optimist view of our position, partly because he is naturally of a hopeful disposition, and partly because, by a really singular chance, our experiences coincided in a remarkable way with his own two years before, when he was in the Sudan on a similar journey. To begin with, the time of year was the same, for it was on March 5 that he and Attanoux had arrived to confer with the Tuaregs, Azgueurs, etc.

All night the left bank of the river was illuminated with the watch-fires of the Tuareg camp, which resembled a great conflagration. We had not been wrong, a large, a very large force was assembled there.

In the morning my heart beat fast when I saw a canoe approaching, and I made out in it one of the negro messengers of the chief of the village, a Tuareg, and another native whose woolly crop of hair showed him to be a Moor or a Kunta.

The boat touched land, and the third person in it turned out to be really a Kunta, whilst the Tuareg was Madidu’s blacksmith.

Why had this blacksmith come? Because in the Sudan the blacksmiths form a regular caste, which has attained very great influence over the negro chiefs, and the Tuaregs of the river districts followed the example of the negro potentates in listening to their counsels.

Not all the blacksmiths, it must be explained, follow their nominal trade. They are many of them the familiarfriends and advisers of the chiefs; in fact, it is they who often wield the real authority, for, as often happens in Europe, the prime minister is more powerful than the king.

Ceremonial greetings having been exchanged we all sat down. My fingers were cold, my throat felt parched, but I managed by a strong effort at self-control to appear perfectly calm and indifferent.

I began the speech already resolved on. The Kunta knew Arabic, so that I was fortunate enough to be able to employ Father Hacquart as interpreter. He repeated in Ta-Masheg every word I addressed to the blacksmith.

“I greeted Madidu, the Commandant of Timbuktu greeted Madidu, and the Sultan of the French greeted Madidu. We were the white people who, two years before, had driven the Tenguereguif and the Kel Temulai from Timbuktu. We had already come twice in boats to cement our friendship with the people of the country, and to trade with them, without any idea of conquest. The Tuaregs had received us badly, insulted and provoked us; we had attacked, beaten, and punished them. Allah had given us their city; we were there, and there we meant to stay.

“But the Tuaregs of Timbuktu had nothing in common with the Awellimiden, they were indeed their enemies. Between Madidu and us there had never been war.

“Now that we were neighbours, the Sultan of the French thought it would be wrong for us to remain any longer unknown to each other.

“If we succeeded in making friends, nothing but good would result to both parties. They would come to Timbuktu to sell their oxen, their sheep, and their gum, receiving in exchange stuffs, beads, and all the goods the white men know how to make.

“To remain longer without making friends would be toleave gunpowder close to a fire. The day would come, through no fault of theirs or ours, when some misunderstanding would lead to a scuffle first and then to war.

“Moreover, if we knew their power, they also ought to know ours. Evil might result to us, but worse would befall them.

“In any case it was more consistent with their dignity and self-respect, as well as with ours,—for were not we as well as they of noble race?—to know with whom they had to deal. The Sultan of the white men had chosen me because of my relationship with Abdul Kerim, who was the friend of the Kuntas and the Awellimiden. What must I tell that Sultan on behalf of Madidu? Was it to be peace or war?”

This speech was clear enough, and the reply was no less so.

“Madidu greets you. If you have come with pacific intentions, as you said yesterday to the men from Gao, he is your friend; he will give you guides to take you where you will, to Say or to Sokoto. If evil should overtake you it will be from heaven, Madidu answers for it none shall come from earth.”

This beginning could not but please us.

We told the young Kunta, who acted as second envoy, that we were on good terms with his relations at Timbuktu and Kagha; and then we tried to amuse our visitors, bringing out our bicycle, phonograph, musical box, etc. All our attractions were paraded, in fact, and then, after consulting with Father Hacquart, I decided on a grand coup. Without asking for anything or adding another word, I bade the ambassador farewell, giving him the beautiful velvet saddle to take to Madidu.

The canoe shot back across the river. We saw a Tuareg advance from amongst a group of horsemen, mounted on a fine bay horse, and, strange to say, carrying a musket.He came to meet the envoys as they landed; they handed the saddle to him, and when they caught sight of it, the Tuaregs behind him clashed their shields and uttered shrill cries.

The canoe returned immediately. The horseman we had just seen receive the saddle was Madidu himself; he thanked us a thousand times for our beautiful present, and even wished to come to us, but his brothers, fearing treachery or sorcery, had prevented him from doing so. Our generosity had hit the mark, and judging from the manner of the blacksmith, we could make a very shrewd guess at what were the feelings of his master.

It was the messenger’s turn now, and I gave him a beautiful present of stuffs, beads, knives, and veils, with which he was delighted. There were, however, still two things that Madidu wanted, but if it was difficult to meet his wishes, he did not dare to insist too much, for we had already given him more than either he or his ancestors had ever received.

The first thing was ten silver pieces, not for himself, but for his wife. She had heard him speak of that white metal which could be worked like copper, and of which ornaments were made, but which was not really copper, and she did so long to see some for herself. This wish was easy enough to gratify, and to the ten five-franc pieces I added two gold rings.

As for the second wish of the Amenokal, I would give you a thousand guesses, and not one would be right. He wanted the portrait of the President of the Republic.

All German and English travellers make a point of giving a portrait of their sovereign to native chiefs. Thoughtless people may, perhaps, laugh at this, but for all that it is true that it always produces a considerable effect to show a photograph, a drawing, or, better still,a chromo-lithograph, with the words—“This is our Sultan!”

Knowing this, we had brought with us, two years before, when we started on our expedition, a hundred coloured portraits of M. Carnot.

He was dead now; and all we had been able to get were a few engravings of President Felix Faure, such as you see at all themairies, and in the captain’s cabin in all the ships of the fleet.

Wherever we passed, the portrait of the Sultan of the French was the object of great curiosity. I had pinned it up in my cabin, and every one wanted to see it. It was a bust portrait, and the eye-glass hanging from a ribbon was shown in it. After looking at the likeness for some time in silence, the Tuaregs would begin asking me questions.

“Is he your father? Why has he three eyes?” This of course was suggested by the eye-glass.

I had hit upon a very simple way of answering both these questions at once. “Of course,” I would reply, “he is my father; he is the father of us all, and he has three eyes; it is just because he has so many children that two eyes would not be enough to look at them all.”

No one ever showed the slightest surprise or incredulity at this double explanation of mine, my reply seemed perfectly natural and satisfactory.

But to return to Madidu. He had heard his people talk about the portrait, and anxious to possess it, he sent to ask me for it. His wish was prompted by too good a feeling towards us for us to have the slightest reason for saying no, and this is how it comes about that the portrait of the President of the Republic at this moment adorns the tent of the Chief of the Awellimiden, and goes with him from the banks of the Niger to the plateau of Air.

After breakfast our Kunta came back once more.Madidu had sent to ask when we wished to start, and hinted that the chief might perhaps visit us himself a little further down the river. In any case the Amenokal promised to send us a letter by some relation of his. He would let us have the various promises he had made to us in writing, and he now renewed them, assuring us of his friendship and his resolve to protect our fellow-countrymen and fellow-subjects.

Madidu was now anxious to be off, for the raids of the Kelgeres or Kel Air, of which we had heard so much, were all too real, for they had actually attacked the camp of the Kuntas, who were on friendly terms with the Awellimiden, and were under the command of Baye and Bebe Hamet, sons of El Beckay.

The chief, therefore, wished to settle everything with us in hot haste, so as to be free to go and meet his own enemies. He would, however, send messengers and letters all along the river instructing the chiefs, his vassals, to treat us well and supply us with guides and provisions; in fact, to help us in every possible way.

I should very much have liked to have a personal interview with the Amenokal, but I had good reason to know that it was by no means easy to get access to Tuareg chiefs. It was very evident too, in this particular case, that although Madidu, whose views were liberal and tolerant, and who, thanks to the traditions inherited from his father, had refused to listen to the advice of those hostile to us, there did exist a very strong party against us, and it was necessary to avoid putting weapons into the hands of our adversaries by giving them an excuse for treating us badly. To insist on prolonging our stay or on seeing the chief might have brought about the very result we feared. I therefore decided to start the next morning.

We sent our guides back after paying them well, andthey put off for shore in their canoes. During their passage the Tuareg column divided, one group going down to meet the guides when they landed. The latter feared that the warriors had come down to see whether we had not been too generous, and perhaps to make them divide their spoil with them, so rather than risk this they turned round and came back towards our camp.

At that moment a great noise arose on the right bank, caused by the clamour of a number of petty chiefs, who in their turn had ordered their blacksmiths to cross the arm of the river between us and the bank, and to come to greet us on their behalf. These visits were of course prompted by interested motives, in the hope of getting presents. Now this was just what Madidu had wished to avoid; he did not feel sure enough of every one to care that crowds should go to see us, and he ordered all the messengers to be driven away, which led to a good deal of recrimination, the echo of which had reached us.

Nevertheless, El Yacin, one of the most important of the tributary Amrars, had sent his adviser to us, who when the canoe which had brought him went off without him, settled himself down in a corner on board theDavoustwithout showing the slightest fear of us. He evidently meant to see, hear, and touch everything.

I have already said, that amongst the ornaments of my cabin were some photographs of a celebrated singer. These likenesses excited no less interest than did that of the President, which was hung opposite to them, especially as the costumes of Elsa, Brunhilda, Elizabeth or Salammbo, as the case might be, appeared to the Tuaregs the very acme of elegance, which shows of course that they were not wanting in a sense of the æsthetic.

Our blacksmith, after gazing at these likenesses for a long time, turned to me and said—

“Is she one of the women of your country?”

“Yes.”

“Are they all as pretty as she is?”

“Of course they are.”

“Then you must all be great fools to have left them to come here.”

I tried to make him understand what would be the delights of our return home, how our chiefs would praise us, and our fellow citizens admire us, how the whole country would ring with our fame; but it was no good, he stuck to his original opinion.

To prove that we really meant to start the next day, we now began to furl our tents, and the bank opposite us gradually became deserted. When darkness fell we finally dismissed our guides.

Early on the morning of the 6th, guided by a pilot sent to us by the chief of Gao, we started for Bornu, where Madidu was then encamped, and arrived there about eleven o’clock.

The river was still easily navigable, although here and there the presence of eddies proved the existence of rocks, which no doubt crop up, and are dangerous at low water. To make up for a less impeded stream, the banks became more and more rugged and wild as we proceeded. Lofty black and red cliffs covered with gum trees and sycamores succeeded each other, and we found that Bornu had been very exactly described and drawn by Barth. We anchored at the base of a perpendicular rock some three hundred and twenty feet high. Our guide went to the village, of which we could see the huts about half-a-mile off, and soon came back bringing a substitute.

As for Madidu, it appeared that he had slept in his camp, but had left very early in the morning. We should perhaps meet him at Dergona, where we changed pilots.

After breakfast we started again. The left bank now became extremely picturesque, cliffs of red rock broken into fantastic forms resembling the ruins of castles occurring here and there, whilst far away on the right rose a line of rocky mountains. We had evidently now left the dunes behind us.

We passed the night near Dergona, of which we could see the fires, and early the next morning we arrived there. Not a sign of Madidu. He had gone to the interior, driven there by the raids of the Kel Air. When night fell we had reached Balia, the Tabaliat of Barth.

BORNU.

Near the landing-place there was a canoe laden with grain deserted by the owners, who had run away. Gradually reassured, however, they presently returned, and from them we obtained much interesting information about the state of the neighbouring districts of Say.

Near Sinder, they said, lived a number of thieving boatmenbelonging to the Kurteyes tribe, who had lately made a raid on Balia.

We should also meet Amadu Cheiku there, who owns several villages on the banks of the river, one of which is surrounded by atata, or earthen wall. This Amadu Cheiku had persuaded a Fulah tribe called the Gaberos, who had formerly lived near Gao under the rule of the Awellimiden, to emigrate and join him.

BABA, WITH THE ROCKS ABOVE ANSONGO.

He had lately tried, but without success, to induce the people of Dergona to do the same.

The river-bed now became more and more rocky; we felt the eddies and rapids a good deal, although navigation could not yet be called difficult; and in due course we arrived opposite the promontory jutting out from the island of Ansongo.

Here, running from south-east to north-west, are four great blocks of flint of very picturesque appearance, which look like landmarks set up to mark a very remarkablepoint of the river, and as a matter of fact it is below them that the difficulties begin which render this part of the Niger practically unnavigable.

On March 8 we anchored for breakfast opposite one of these masses of rock, off Beba; then following the arm of the river furthest to the left, we arrived about two o’clock at the village of Ansongo, inhabited by Kel es Suk. The chief of that tribe himself was there.

Close to our anchorage a line of rocks completely barred the arm of the river on which we were. Their summits were almost level with each other, and it would have been quite impossible for us to get over them. Baudry, however, went off exploring in a canoe, and discovered a very narrow winding channel on the left at the foot of the bank, through which it would be just possible for us to get out.

Meanwhile the Kel es Suk, and the negroes in their service, had assembled on the beach, and after giving them a few presents of little value, we entered into conversation with them. All seemed likely to go well. El Mekki, they said, would supply us with provisions and pilots, and no doubt would himself come and see us.

I was indeed glad to hear that. I had greatly dreaded a conflict with the Kel es Suk, for we knew their way of going to work. As long as we had had to do with individuals only, their hostility did not matter much; but now we had to deal with the chief of the whole tribe, and it was of the utmost importance to conciliate him.

As we shall see further on, the Kel es Suk are of the same race, springing from the same source as the Tuaregs.

Separated, however, from the original stock after the taking of Taddemekka by the Songhay of Gao, they had espoused the tenets of Islam at a happy moment, and were now the marabouts of the Tuaregs.

As a result they exercise a great moral influence, and Ishould not hesitate to assert that El Mekki alone would be able to put a veto on the favourable or unfavourable resolutions of Madidu with regard to us. From which it will be seen clearly enough how very valuable the friendship of this El Mekki would be.

Before the evening mists arose we set sail to go through the pass, which we managed to do without accident, and anchored opposite the village to await the morning.

THE KEL ES SUK OF ANSONGO REFUSE TO SUPPLY US WITH GUIDES.

On the 9th we crossed over very early, but, alas! the day began badly. El Mekki did not come, but sent instead two messengers, who—I really don’t know on what stupid pretext—told us it was impossible to supply us with guides. I protested in vain, invoking the name of Madidu.

Political reasons imperatively demanded that we should make a friend of El Mekki, but there was yet another more immediate motive for our desire, and that was, we were close to the rapids.

As I have already said, they begin at Ansongo. We did not yet know all the difficulties they would cause us; all we had to help us was what Barth had said about them, and we had never known him wrong, which was quite enough to prove how absolutely indispensable pilots would be, for at every turn we should have to choose the most practicable of the many arms of the river.

I called up all my powers of patience, and tried to discuss the matter quietly, but it was only labour lost. Indeed some negroes who had come down to the bank to speak to us were ordered back to the village by the Kel es Suk.

Now came a second deputation, this time an openly hostile one, of men with determined faces.

“What,” they demanded, “were our intentions?”

“Peaceful and good,” was our reply.

“What is your religion?” they went on.

“That of Issa,” we answered; “whom your own prophet names as his forerunner. We are Kitabi, or people of the book. Your own religion enjoins you to treat us as friends, seeing that we entertain amicable feelings for you.”

Tierno chimed in, arguing with his fellow marabouts to make them listen to reason, but with very little success.

“Anyhow,” I said at last, “your fathers let a Christian pass through their country in peace, and indeed they even helped him. That Christian, my uncle, Abdul Kerim, was the friend andprotégéof Sidi Hamet Beckay; do you think you can do better than your fathers, and the chief who was venerated throughout the whole of the Sudan?”

Surprise and hurried interrogations now ensued.

“What! are you the nephew of Abdul Kerim?”

I read Barth’s book every day, so that it is rather difficult to put me out when his adventures are discussed.

Now it so happened that just before he reached Ansongo a little episode occurred to him which is well worth relating.

Without any disrespect to the memory of my “uncle”—my very worthy and excellent “uncle”—I suspect him of having been the hero of at least one idyl on the banks of the Niger, in which a young beauty of the Kel es Suk tribe also played her part.

Her name was Neschrun, and Barth, who generally dismisses the charms of the black or brown beauties he came across in his travels curtly enough, dwells on her graceful figure, her pleasing manners, her beautiful black eyes, and her hair parted on her brows,à la Vierge. He does not even neglect to tell us that she wore a garment alternately striped with black and red, which was most becoming.

The attraction was evidently mutual, for he adds that she one day said to him, half in fun—

“Will you marry me?”

What prevented the course of true love running smoothly was some question about camels.

“I expressed to her,” says Barth, “all the regret I felt at being obliged to refuse, and whilst explaining how sensible I was of the honour she did me I told her my camels were too tired to carry her.”

I have already referred to the standard of beauty amongst these people, and how they admireembonpoint; and I may here add that, when a woman has achieved the weight desired, she might very well claim to be admitted into the so-called “Société des Cent Kilos.” The name given to this special charm by the Tuaregs istebulloden, and those who know anything of the onomatopœia theory will see in a minute how appropriate it is to a Tuareg Venus who is not content with being merely a Venus Callipyge.

Neschrun, no doubt, was rather of thetebullodenstyle of beauty, so that it is quite possible that the camels of theGerman traveller were really not equal to carrying her weight.

Now was not this a good story to prove my identity in my parley with the messengers from El Mekki?

It actually turned out that Neschrun was the sister of El Mekki, and was still alive, so of course I made a great fuss about seeing her at once. Alas! she was far away in the interior, and it was no use hoping that she could come to me or that I could go to her, so I had to be content with sending her a present of a folding mirror with three glasses, trimmed with plush, which had cost about three shillings. See how generous I was!

The messengers went back to tell El Mekki all about it, and we at once became capital friends. Two slaves belonging to the chief of the Kel es Suk were given to us as guides, and we started again, but not before I had sent my affectionate greetings to the lady who might have been my aunt if she had not been so fat, or if Barth’s camels had been better able to carry heavy loads.

My dear “uncle”! my brave “uncle”! my providential “uncle”! yet once again had you drawn a sharp thorn from the foot of your nephew when the happy thought occurred to you of relating your love affair with a daughter of the Kel es Suk.

The current was now very strong, running at the rate of 4½ miles an hour. We could not fail to see that we had drunk our best wine at the beginning of the feast, and that we must now husband our resources most carefully. In other words, we must steer with the greatest caution.

The fresh breeze from the south drove theAubea little out of her course, and she struck on a bed of coarse gravel. She was, however, in very little danger, and we soon got her off again. But when out of the narrow channel she was flung violently on to a sharp rock, and there remainedstationary. The water was so deep just there that the coolies could not stand in it, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that we rescued our consort this time. However, after swimming about her for an hour our efforts were at last rewarded by seeing her afloat again.

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