EXTRACT OF MUNGO PARK’S LETTER TO HIS WIFE.
EXTRACT OF MUNGO PARK’S LETTER TO HIS WIFE.
Park threw himself into his work with characteristic energy and thoroughness, and speedily won for himself a fair share of the practice of the town and country. The profits, however, were of the poorest, and the work of the hardest—so much so, indeed, that he once said to Scott he “would rather brave Africa and all its horrors than wear out his life in long and toilsome rides over cold and lonely heaths and gloomy hills, assailed by the wintry tempest, for which the remuneration was hardly enough to keep soul and body together.”
On the strength of this reported offhand remark, Ruskin, without troubling to inquire further into the history of the man, has formulated the following indictment. This “terrific” sentence, he says, “signifies, if you look into it, almost total absence of the instinct of personal duty—total absence of belief in the God who chose for him his cottage birthplace and set him his life task beside it; absolute want of interest in his profession, of sense for natural beauty, and of compassion for the noblest poor of his native land. And with these absences there is the clearest evidence of the fatalist of the vices, Avarice—in the exact form in which it was the ruin of Scott himself—the love of money for the sake of worldly position.”
Never was more sweeping accusation founded on more slender data. Practically, Park is charged with absence of a belief in God, and of a sense of duty to his fellows, because he finds his profession toilsome and uncongenial.
The argument seems to be that the man is an atheist and a sinner against society who is not content to remain in the sphere in which he was born, and in which accordingly his life task is divinely set.
Were such a position tenable, it is difficult to see how any progress, either personal or social, would be possible. From it, in the present instance, would naturally follow that Park was as little to be justified in choosing to be a doctor rather than a peasant farmer, as in preferring to be an explorer rather than either.
What Ruskin takes exception to, however, is not Park’s choosing a profession, but that the choice once made, he should seek to abandon it. But if it were permissible to him as a youth, ignorant alike of himself, the world, and the profession he was about to enter, to choose, surely it was equally permissible that as a man, with some knowledge of all three, he should withdraw in favour of the work to which he knew himself adapted. The instinct and capacities which fitted him for an explorer were as divinely implanted as his birthplace had been divinely appointed. Moreover, those “noblest poor of his native land,” to whom Ruskin so pathetically refers, were not alone dependent on Park for medical aid—a circumstance which would have lent another colour to his final resolve to forsake them. Doctors there were in plenty, alike able and willing to serve them; but there was but one Mungo Park—but one man, as far as was known, who by his special gifts and wide experience was suited for the peculiar and arduous work of African exploration. Upon him then it devolved, with all the sacrednesss of a divinely appointed mission, as indeed he deemed it, and accepted it accordingly, to the exclusion of all narrower obligations.
There still remains the charge of Avarice, based on Park’s simple statement that his “unceasing toil was hardly sufficient to keep soul and body together.” Is then the physician less entitled than say the authorto a just remuneration for his services, or does Ruskin share the not uncommon popular delusion that though butchers’ and bakers’ bills demand immediate attention, the payment of the doctor’s is to be regarded as optional, or subject to the convenience of the patient. Neither supposition is to be entertained for a moment. Indeed the charge rests upon too flimsy a foundation ever to be taken seriously by any unprejudiced mind, and we can only regretfully wonder what could have induced Mr. Ruskin so far to forget the Justice and Charity he is so fond of preaching as to bring it forward.
Beyond the record of “unceasing toil” little is known of how Park spent the time he was resident in Peebles. The town itself is described as being in those days “quiet as the grave”—a reputation it still maintains, judging from the innuendo in the ironical phrase, “Peebles for pleasure!”
To Park, however, the absence of the brighter aspect of life was a small matter. Society had but little attraction for him, and his was the severe Scottish nature which avoided as almost sinful anything bordering upon frivolous pleasure. From all lionising and the silly questioning of the ignorant and the impertinently curious he had a natural shrinking, though at any time delighted to talk of his travels and of matters African with the intelligent and the well-informed. Quiet and seclusion were, however, more to his mind, and were to be enjoyed to the full in the peaceful little town. Such society as he wanted he had in his own domestic circle, beyond which he was happy in the intimacy which sprang up between him and two distinguished residents—Colonel John Murray of Kringaltie and Dr. Adam Ferguson, formerly Professor of Moral Philosophyin Edinburgh, and author of several well-known works. Toilsome and monotonous as was his professional life, it was not without its brighter and more humorous side, as witness the following story told by Dr. Anderson, the nephew of Park’s wife:—
“One wild night in winter Park lost his way, till discovering a light, he directed his horse towards it, and found himself before a shepherd’s cottage. It so happened that the Doctor arrived there in the nick of time, for the shepherd’s wife was on the point of confinement. He waited till all was safely over, and next morning the shepherd escorted him to where he could see the distant road. Park, noticing his conductor lag behind, asked him the reason, on which the simple or humorous man replied, ‘’Deed, sir, my wife said she was sure you must be an angel, and I think sae tae; so I am just keepin’ ahint to be sure I’ll see you flee up.’”
As time went on, Park’s longing to return to Africa grew ever more intense, nourished as it was by hopes from time to time held out to him. Barely, for instance, had he settled down to life in Peebles, when he received a letter from Sir Joseph Banks, acquainting him that in consequence of the Peace (then recently signed with France), the Association intended to revive their project of sending a mission to Africa in order to penetrate to and navigate the Niger. If Government took up the matter, Park would certainly be recommended as the person proper to be employed for carrying it into execution. As with previous projects, however, nothing came of it for the time being, though it continued to be talked about more or less during the next two years.
In the autumn of 1803 he was desired by the ColonialOffice to repair without delay to London. This summons he promptly obeyed. On his arrival he had an interview with the Earl of Buckingham, the Secretary for the Colonies, who informed him that the Government had resolved on fitting out an expedition to Africa, of which he was to have the command, if he was willing to take it. It was exactly what he wanted—exactly what he had been impatiently awaiting for three years; but nevertheless he asked for a short time to think the matter over and consult his friends. The favour was granted, and he returned to Scotland. The consultations referred to being for the most part a mere formality, in a few days his acceptance was forwarded to London, whither he followed immediately after arranging his affairs and taking leave of his family.
REDUCED FAC-SIMILE OF MUNGO PARK’S AUTOGRAPH MAP.
REDUCED FAC-SIMILE OF MUNGO PARK’S AUTOGRAPH MAP.
In this as in his earlier expedition, Park was dogged by his usual ill-luck.
Disappointment met him at the very outset.
He had left Scotland in the belief that almost every arrangement had been made, and that a very short time would suffice to complete the necessary preparations.
He arrived in London only to hear that the departure of the expedition had been postponed till the end of February 1804. With what patience he possessed he waited. The allotted time went by. Once more everything was ready. Part of the troops destined for the service were actually on board ship, when orders came countermanding the expedition, pending the decision of Lord Camden, the new Colonial Secretary, as to whether it should go at all or not.
Park was naturally bitterly disappointed at thus being thrown again on the seas of uncertainty. The expedition might now never set out, and the task of solving the great African problem would be reserved for another.
Meanwhile the date of departure was provisionally put off till September, and till then he was recommended to return to Scotland and occupy the interval in perfecting himself in taking astronomical observations and in learning Arabic—acquirements whichwould be of the utmost importance to him afterwards.
A suitable teacher of Arabic was found in one Sidi Ambak Bubi, a native of Mogador, and then residing in London. Accompanied by the Moor, Park returned to Peebles in March. Here he remained till May, when he finally quitted that town and took up his residence at Foulshiels while awaiting the decision of the Colonial Office.
It was at this time that the great traveller came in contact with his still greater countryman and neighbour, Sir Walter Scott, then living at Ashesteil, and separated from Foulshiels only by the sharp ridge of hills which divides the Yarrow from the Tweed.
Between two such men—the one absorbed in a career of prospective action in a new continent, the other revelling in a romantic world of retrospective thought—it might be supposed there was little in common.
In reality there was much. Scott, though he delighted to sing of the past and conjure up its knightly deeds, had a soul capable of appreciating all forms of glorious and adventurous enterprise, whether seen in the prosaic lights of the passing moment, or invested with the romantic vagueness and fascinating glamour which the shades of time gather around bygone days. To such an one Park was a man after his own heart. Had but his deeds been surrounded with the pomp and circumstance which glorified those of the knights of old, Scott might have sung them in a similar heroic strain. Mayhap the day will come when another Scott will arise to do for Park and his successors what Sir Walter and others have done for the heroic figures of our nation’s history.
On the other hand, Park, imbued as he likewise was with the romantic instinct, could not fail to be attracted by Scott’s peculiar genius. Moreover, both were Scotchmen, both Borderers, and both alike were passionate lovers of the minstrelsy, tales, traditions, and ballads of their native country. The ballads especially were dear to Park, and he tells how, in his last expedition, one of his followers used “to beguile the watches of the night with the songs of our dear native land.”
But whatever were the links which drew these two famous men together, they were sufficient speedily to develop a very warm and cordial friendship, and visits were frequently interchanged across the heathery hills which separated them. On one of these occasions Scott discovered Park sitting alone beside the noisy Yarrow, employed in the apparently idle and boyish amusement of throwing stones into the river and anxiously watching the bubbles as they rose to the surface. On being asked what interest he found in such a pastime, Park replied that he was thus in the habit of ascertaining the depth of rivers in Africa before venturing to cross them—the time taken by the bubbles to rise being an indication of the depth.
Early in September came the long expected summons to repair to London, and Park lost no time in settling his affairs preparatory to leaving home. Among others, he paid a farewell visit to Sir Walter Scott at Ashesteil, where he spent the night. Next morning his host accompanied him on his way to Foulshiels. The path lay up the Glenkinnen to Williamhope, whence it continued over the ridge and passed between the Brown Knowe and the humpy elevation of the Broomy Law. As they passed from the birchen slopes of Glenkinneninto the heather and grass-clad zones above, Park talked much of his plans of exploration, and the results that would accrue to science and commerce should he prove successful.
Under other conditions the panorama which slowly unfolds itself with the ascent of the hill would have been sufficient to draw even Park’s thoughts from Africa and the Niger. The various glens and valleys of the Tweed, the Gala, the Yarrow, and the Ettrick divide the land into a picturesque succession of winding ridges, isolated hills, and rounded mountain tops, where wood, heather, and grass give variety of colour to the higher levels, while below waving crops and busy harvest-fields, ruined castle and noble mansion, humble cottage and straggling village, with glancing bits of stream and river, flocks of sheep and scattered herds of cattle, combine to produce the softer effects of “cultivated nature.”
But on this day of leave-taking a leaden-coloured mist hung over hill and valley, hiding their every feature. Only now and again did the breeze lift a corner of the enshrouding veil and give a momentary glimpse, vague and fleeting, of glen and hill-top. As they talked of the coming journey Scott seemed to see in the vaguely defined landscape an emblem of his friend’s prospects, where all was problematic, uncertain—the path beset with unknown dangers and pitfalls, nothing sure save the presence of surrounding perils which might neither be foreseen nor prepared for. In this ignorance as regards the exact nature of the dangers to be faced lies one of the chief difficulties and terrors of travel in unexplored savage lands. All the traveller does know is that dangers in various forms will most assuredly confront him, and he must depend upon his presence ofmind and readiness of resource at the moment to avoid or repel them.
But Park was not to be debarred from his enterprise by any thought of the difficulties in the way. To all that Scott could urge he had his answer. The idea of solving the question of the Niger’s termination was one which possessed him to the exclusion of all thoughts of self. As well have asked him to renounce his belief in the existence of God as expect him to give up his cherished scheme.
At last the glen of the Yarrow lay before them. At the bottom could be hazily defined the “birchen bower,” from which the stately tower of Newark and the humble cottage of Foulshiels alike looked forth on the beautiful murmurous stream.
Here they must say good-bye. A ditch divided the road from the moor, and in crossing it Park’s horse stumbled and nearly fell. “I am afraid, Mungo,” said Scott, “that is a bad omen.” “Freits” (i.e., omens) “follow those who look to them,” was the prompt reply; and without another word Park rode away and disappeared in the mist.
It now only remained to Park to take farewell of his wife. Brave as he was, the ordeal was more than he dared face. Not that she had raised any objections to his going, or put any barriers in the way. Seeing how much her husband’s heart was in it, and not perhaps without some natural womanly pride in being the wife of a hero rather than of a nobody, she seems to have accepted as a matter of course his determination to avail himself of the chance of further distinction presented by the proposed expedition. Still, the moment of actual parting, with the prospect of at best a longperiod of separation, would be agony. Even better than his wife Park knew how many chances there were that the separation might be final—that wife and children, of whom there were now three, might never see him again. Sanguine as he was of success, there were moments when he could not but admit that the coming enterprise looked very like a forlorn hope—moments, too, when it became difficult for him to discern whether his duty to humanity or to his family had the stronger claim upon him.
It was under the influence of some such feeling of despondency that he finally resolved to spare both himself and his wife the anguish of a parting scene, and betaking himself to Edinburgh on the plea of business, thence wrote to her his last farewell.
On his arrival in London in September 1804, Park presented a written statement to the Colonial Office embodying his views as to the commercial and geographical results likely to accrue from the intended expedition, at the same time pointing out the best means to accomplish the work as regards men and goods. In this memorandum he pointed out the course he proposed to pursue. Passing through Bondu, Kajaaga, Fuladu, and Bambarra to Sego, he would construct a boat and proceed by way of Jenné and Kabara (the port of Timbuktu) through the kingdoms of Haussa, Nyffé (now called Nupé), and Kashna, &c., to the kingdom of Wangara. If the river ended here, he pointed out, his chief difficulty would begin. To return by the Niger, to cross the desert to Tripoli or Egypt, or to pass eastward to the Nile and Abyssinia, he considered equally difficult. The most feasible course seemed that towards the Bight of Benin. If, however, the Nigerwas, as he confidently believed, in reality the Congo, he would follow it to its termination. After pointing out the grounds for his belief, Park concluded with the opinion that when “your Lordship shall have duly weighed the above reasons, you will be induced to conclude that my hopes of returning by the Congo are not altogether fanciful, and that the expedition, though attended with extreme danger, promises to be productive of the utmost advantage to Great Britain. Considered in a commercial point of view, it is second only to the discovery of the Cape of Good Hope, and in a geographical point of view is certainly the greatest discovery that remains to be made in the world”—a very strong statement of the case, it must be admitted, though undoubtedly if the Niger and the Congo had proved to be one, it could scarcely have been said to be too strong.
Park had been converted to this view of the identity of the two great rivers by one George Maxwell, a West African trader, who had seen much of the Congo near its mouth, and had published a chart embodying the results of his observations. When closely examined, the arguments in its favour were of small value, and practically arose out of the fact that there was a large river with a southerly trend whose termination was unknown, while further south there was a second, the Congo, whose origin was equally a mystery. Prolong these in the necessary direction and the result is identity, and the mystery of both is settled.
Meanwhile Major Rennell stuck to his view with all the pertinacity of the arm-chair geographer, and the man of one idea. For him the Niger ended in the desert wastes of Wangara and Ghana. Unfortunatelyfor his theory the Major was unconsciously confounding two Wangaras separated from each other by fifteen hundred miles and more, and likewise the old Empire of Ghana on the middle course of the Niger with Kano at the eastern extremity of the Haussa States. A similar confusion also appears in Park’s memorandum, where he speaks of the continuation of the river after Nupé to Kashna (Katsina) and the kingdom of Wangara.
Strange indeed it seems to us now that no geographer even at this time ever suggested that the outlet of the Niger might be in the Bight of Benin, among the numerous creeks that penetrate the low swampy mangrove ground which here subtends the Bight. Looking at the map, the suggestion seems to us to come naturally, yet Park had to carry the course of the river away south to the Congo; Rennell turned it west, and ended it where our maps are now occupied by Lake Chad, while there were not wanting others, like Jackson, who persisted in joining it to the Nile, “en abusant, pour ainsi dire, du vaste carrière que l’intérieur de l’Afrique y laissait prendre,” as D’Anville had said of earlier geographers.
Whatever we may now think of Park’s theories as to the termination of the Niger, they did not appear in any way absurd in his own time. The wildest conjecture was permissible as regards a vast river flowing by an uncertain course through a continent still blank on our maps. Accordingly his memorandum was received favourably by Lord Camden, and the despatch of the expedition to carry out the traveller’s ideas was determined on.
A liberal compensation was to be given to Park on his return, and it was also stipulated that in the eventof his death, or of his not being heard of within a given period, a certain sum should be paid by Government as a provision for his wife and family.
Meanwhile Rennell, in the most friendly fashion, not only argued against Park’s views as to the Niger termination, but earnestly advised him to relinquish his dangerous project. With as little effect in the one case as in the other, however. The explorer’s determination, like his opinions, was not to be shaken. Sir Joseph Banks took up a more philosophic position. He admitted the hazardous nature of the enterprise; but since the work was not to be accomplished without risk of life, he could not attempt to dissuade Park from it, he being the man most likely to carry it through with least danger of a fatal issue.
Gradually the affairs of the expedition began to take shape. Dr. Alexander Anderson, Park’s young brother-in-law, was selected as his second in command, and Mr. George Scott, a fellow-dalesman, was added to the party as draughtsman. A few boat-builders and artificers were also to accompany the party from England, for the purpose of constructing the boat intended for the navigation of the Niger when it was reached. Soldiers to assist and protect the expedition were to be selected at Goree, where a garrison of the African corps was stationed.
It was now a matter of paramount importance that the expedition should leave England at once if it was to take advantage of the dry season. But official red-tape was as difficult to galvanise into activity and life as African apathy, and in spite of his utmost endeavours to push matters on, delay succeeded upon delay, and Park saw the good season gradually dwindlingaway, leaving him to the maddening contemplation of all the additional difficulties and dangers engendered by the rains. Two whole months were thus lost; and when he at last received his official instructions, he knew that the Government, by its continued procrastination, had done much if not everything to ensure a disastrous termination to the expedition.
In the instructions supplied to him Park’s mission was defined as being to discover whether and to what extent commercial intercourse could be established in the interior of Africa for the mutual benefit of the natives and of His Majesty’s subjects. He was directed to proceed up the Gambia, and thence to the banks of the Niger by way of the Senegal. The special object of his journey was to determine the course of the Niger, and to establish communication with all the different nations on its banks. He was at liberty to pursue any return route which he might find most suitable, either by turning west to the Atlantic, or by marching upon Cairo.
To carry out this great mission effectively, a captain’s commission was bestowed on him, and that of a lieutenant on Anderson. European soldiers to the number of forty-five, and as many natives as he might deem necessary, were to be selected at Goree, and a sufficient number of donkeys at St. Jago. He was further empowered to draw for any sum he might want not exceeding £5000.
On the 31st January 1805, Park, with his companions and four or five artificers, sailed from Portsmouth in theCrescenttransport for St. Jago, Cape Verde Islands.
In crossing the Bay of Biscay they were considerably detained by storms and contrary winds, so that it took five weeks to reach their primary destination. From St. Jago, where forty-four donkeys were purchased, they proceeded to Goree, arriving at that station on the 21st of March. Here the idea of an expedition to the Niger was received with such enthusiasm by officers and men alike that the entire garrison was ready to join—the officers for the adventure and honour of the thing, the men for the increased pay and promised discharge on their return.
One officer, Lieutenant Martyn, was selected, and with him thirty-five privates and two seamen.
Park’s idea of taking with him a considerable number of European artisans and soldiers must be considered one of the greatest blunders he ever made. A moment’s thought should surely have told him that he ran a terrible risk of speedily losing the greater number by death, and that through sickness the majority of those who kept alive would be more a hindrance than a help to him. He should have known that these ignorantmen were not as he himself seemed to be—rendered disease and privation proof by the determination to achieve a certain great object. Against all forms of death, save death by violence, hiswillwas to him a magic mail. With his men it was different. Ignorant of what was before them—incapable of comprehending it even had it been told—they only saw in the enterprise a certain freedom from irksome garrison restrictions and military discipline, increased pay, and the prospect of early discharge. To all else they were blind.
Brought face to face with hourly dangers, privations, and incessant toil, they quickly realised their mistake. Everything was forgotten save the present physical suffering. Sick and dispirited, what was the question of the Niger’s course to them? A mere name, without power to fire their imagination or inspire their enthusiasm. How insignificant, too, appeared the material recompense. Thus with nothing to buoy them up, nothing to lure them on and keep them from magnifying and dwelling on their troubles, there could be nothing but apathy—with apathy, despondency, and finally death. This has been the history, more or less, of nearly all African expeditions in which ignorant European men have been employed, tempted to join merely for pay or other considerations of a personal character. In proportion as the members of an expedition have been inspired by its ultimate objects, they have lived to see it through, because in that proportion they have given less attention to their hardships and sicknesses. The less they have thought of themselves, and the more their minds have been centred on their work, the better have been their chances of pulling through.
But though all the whites of the Goree garrison were willing to accompany Park, not one of the negroes of the place could be induced to join, and he therefore had to depend on getting such natives as he wanted on the Gambia. He left Goree on the 6th of April, and reached Kayi, on the Gambia, a few days later.
The prospect now before him was anything but pleasant. The rainy season, which he had such good grounds to fear, was rapidly approaching. There were but two alternatives—either to wait till the next dry season before starting, or go on and face the worst—the fevers, the rains, the marshes, the flooded rivers, and all the other accompaniments of the wet season. These must undoubtedly produce much sickness, probably many deaths, innumerable exasperating delays, and other troubles—must increase, in fact, by a hundredfold the perils and trials of the expedition. On the other hand, to wait would mean a delay of seven months—seven months of inaction, of intolerable fretting at the very threshold of the enterprise. The idea was out of the question. Besides, men, animals, and goods were ready for the road, and the Government expected them to proceed forthwith. A delay of the kind had not been foreseen, and had not been provided for in Park’s instructions. Of the two evils, therefore, he chose the one which was most in harmony with his own eager spirit, determining to risk all and start forthwith. Having once made up his mind, he put aside all fears and apprehensions, and would allow nothing to damp his sanguine hopes. In this spirit he wrote to Dickson:—“Everything at present looks as favourable as I could wish, and if all things go well this day six weeks I expect to drink all your healths in the water of the Niger. Thesoldiers are in good health and spirits. They are the mostdashingmen I ever saw, and if they preserve their health we may keep ourselves perfectly secure from any hostile attempt on the part of the natives. I have little doubt but that I shall be able, with presents and fair words, to pass through the country to the Niger, and if once we are afloat the day is won.”
We can easily believe that Park in this letter does not give a faithful indication of his real position at the moment of writing. He may have expressed his hopes truly enough, but he carefully avoids showing the fears which went side by side with them. What exact significance the term “dashing,” as applied to his soldiers, bears in relation to their qualities as members of an African expedition, might be a matter of discussion; but while we have every reason to believe they were the best the garrison could supply, it must also be remembered that the African corps was the residuum of the British army at a time when it was the chief resort of the rascaldom of the country. A residence, however short, in a West African garrison, could have improved neither their physique, their morals, nor their discipline, and certainly was not calculated to fit them for one of the most dangerous and trying enterprises any man could enter upon, and requiring moral and physical qualities which only the very few possess.
To his error in taking with him such a large party of Europeans, Park added an even worse mistake, and one for which less excuse can be found. Nowhere in his diary do we find a single reference to his having any native followers to do the common drudgery of the camp and the road. This was a want of foresight which appears almost incredible in one who knew whatwas before him, and the results which followed when all the men fell sick were disastrous beyond description.
Thus, then, to the extreme perils and hardships which attend an African expedition at all times, Park added a start at the worst possible time of the year, and with the worst possible selection of men. What came of it the following pages will show.
On the 27th of April 1805, all was ready for the march. The initial point was Kayi, on the river Gambia, a few miles below Pisania, the place from which Park started on his first expedition. How different were his preparations for this new attempt. In the former he had left for the interior attended by a man and a boy—a single donkey carrying all the goods and stores he required. This time he was provided with forty-four Europeans, and a large quantity of baggage of all kinds, transported by as many donkeys as there were men. As already said, we find no allusion in his letters or journals to his having any native attendants, though possibly there might have been one or two as personal servants. Isaaco, a Mandingo priest and merchant, had been engaged to act as guide, and he it seems was accompanied by several of his own people.
Under cover of a salute from theCrescentand other vessels gathered on the river, the caravan filed out of Kayi, and took the road for the interior—each man, according to his temperament, aspirations, and education, filled with varied emotions of hope and fear, at once attracted and repelled by the vague unknown which lay before him.
The troubles and worries attendant on leading a large caravan in Africa became only too soon apparent. The day was extremely hot. Under the influence of theoverpowering temperature the overloaded donkeys lay down and refused to proceed, while others, resenting the imposition of any burden, did what they could to kick themselves free, thus giving an infinite amount of trouble to their drivers.
The men themselves, fresh from the relaxing life and coarse debaucheries of a West African garrison, soon began to give in as well as their donkeys, so that before long the caravan, from being a continuous line, was broken into detached groups and isolated individuals resting here, struggling on there. Finally the party got completely divided, some under Lieutenant Martyn taking one way, and the rest with Park another. Towards evening they again became united, and reached a suitable camping ground thoroughly fatigued by their first march. Next day Pisania was reached, and here a halt became necessary to make some final preparations and purchase eight more donkeys.
On the 4th of May the journey was resumed. The caravan was divided into six messes, each with its due proportion of animals marked for easy identification. Scott and one of Isaaco’s men led the way, Martyn took charge of the centre body, while Anderson and Park brought up the rear. Even with the additional beasts of burden there was a repetition of the troubles which marked the first march—troubles which became each day more harassing with the failing strength of the donkeys and the sickness which after a time developed among their drivers. The leaders were each provided with horses for riding, but in a very short time they had to take to their feet, that their animals might be utilised for the transport of loads belonging to broken-down donkeys. A few days more and this likewiseproved insufficient, and both new donkeys and new drivers had to be hired.
By the fourth day from Pisania two soldiers were attacked by dysentery, and a further addition to the strength of the caravan was found necessary. In a week the expedition reached Medina, the capital of Wuli, without special mishap, but with ever growing worries for its leader.
The keen eye to business so characteristic of negro races was well shown by the women of Bambaku, who, on hearing of the coming of the white men, drew all the water out of the wells in the hope of forcing the strangers to buy it at a high price in beads and other gauds dear to the negro heart. In this, however, they were outwitted by the soldiers, and they had the inexpressible mortification of seeing twenty-four hours’ labour utterly lost, and the beads as unattainable as ever.
Meanwhile the report of the passage of a rich caravan conducted by many Europeans spread like wildfire, gaining in exaggeration with every mile, and putting all the robber bands and chiefs on the alert. Preceded by such rumours it became necessary to travel with great circumspection, and in constant readiness for an attack. No one was allowed to lay aside his gun. By way of invoking the aid of a higher power than that of man, Isaaco, on entering the reputedly dangerous woods of Simbani, laid a black ram across the road, and after reciting a long prayer, cut its throat as a sacrifice. These woods were alive with hundreds of antelopes. The Gambia, where it traversed them, was a hundred yards wide, and showed a perceptible tide. On the sands were great numbers ofalligators, while the pools teemed with hippos. Viewed from an eminence, the country towards the west appeared abundantly rich and enchanting, the course of the Gambia being traceable by its fringing lines of dark green trees winding in serpentine curves seaward.
At a place called Faraba, while unloading the animals preparatory to camping, one of the soldiers fell down in an epileptic fit, and expired in an hour. Here water was only to be got by digging. During the night, as they were in the wilderness, and liable to attack, double sentries were posted round the camp, and every man slept with his loaded musket beside him.
Next morning the Neaulico stream, then nearly dry, was passed, and on that and a succeeding night they camped in the woods, the second occasion being at the river Nerico.
On the 18th the caravan entered Jallacotta, the first town of Tenda.
Two days later they met with an insolent reception from the chief of the independent village of Bady, who refused the caravan-tax sent him, and threatened war if his exorbitant demands were not satisfied. Park tried personally to arrange the dispute, but only met with threats. The soldiers were at once ordered to be in readiness for whatever might happen, while the chief was told that nothing more would be given him, and that if he would not allow their peaceable passage through his district, another would be found. After many angry words Park prepared to carry his resolution into effect, but before the necessary preparations were completed, Isaaco’s horse was seized by the Bady people. On the owner going to demand its restitution, he himself was laid hold of, deprived of his gun and sword, and thentied to a tree and flogged. At the same time his boy was put in irons.
It was now dark, but prompt action was necessary. Accordingly Park, with a detachment of soldiers, entered the village to seize the robbers of the horse, intending to hold them as hostages for the safe delivery of the guide. This attempt naturally led to much uproar, ending finally in blows, and the driving of all the chief’s people out of the village. Isaaco, however, was nowhere to be found, and Park was somewhat puzzled to know what to do. It would of course have been easy to burn down the village, but this would have entailed death and ruin on many innocent persons, possibly without producing the desired effect. Under the circumstances it was deemed advisable to wait till daylight before making an attack. This course proved to be both wise and humane, for in the morning Isaaco was liberated and his horse restored, so that eventually all ended amicably.
On the 24th of May much lightning was seen to the south-east—ominous premonition of the approaching rains. Of the party Park and Isaaco alone could realise what those electric flashes betokened to the fortunes of the expedition.
Their way for the next three days lay through the Tenda Wilderness—with all the hard marches, short rations, and scant supplies of water which an uninhabited district at the end of the dry season implies, and which were hardly to be compensated by the exceeding picturesqueness of the scenery.
At the second camp in the wilderness an extraordinary mishap befell them. A hive of bees was disturbed by one of the men, with the result that they swarmedout in angry myriads to attack the intruders. They set upon man and beast alike, and in a twinkling had routed every two-legged and four-footed thing in the camp. The men threw down weapons—everything—and fled in dismay, along with frantic braying donkeys. The horses similarly broke loose, and galloped to the woods in a panic. Meanwhile the fires which had been kindled, being thus left unattended, speedily began to spread to the surrounding dry grass and bamboos. When Park and his companions had time to look round, they discovered to their dismay that the whole camp was on fire, and menaced by absolute and irretrievable ruin.
Forgetful of all else before such an appalling danger to the expedition, those who had suffered least from the furious bees rushed back to save what they could. Happily not too late. Before the goods were reached by the fire, Park and some of the men were ready to receive the enemy, and eventually succeeded in extinguishing it.
The impending conflagration over, the horses and donkeys were with difficulty collected from the woods, many of them terribly stung and swollen about the head. Three animals, besides Isaaco’s horse, disappeared altogether. One donkey died that evening, another next morning, and a third had to be abandoned, so vicious and deadly had been the bees’ onslaught.
Many curious superstitions were noticed by Parken routethrough Wuli and Tenda. At one place death was believed to be the portion of any one who slept under a particular tree; at another, the fish in the river must not be caught, else the water would dry up entirely; while at a third, any traveller who wouldassure himself of a safe journey, must lift and turn round a particular stone.
At Julifunda the chief made exorbitant demands on the caravan, threatening to attack them in the woods if these were not complied with. Park’s resolute attitude, however, combined with an addition to his first present, brought the quarrel to an amicable conclusion, and he was permitted to continue his route unmolested.
The expedition had now reached the eastern confines of the Gambia basin, and writing home to his wife, Park reviewed his situation as follows:—
“We are half through our journey (i.e.to the Niger) without the smallest accident or unpleasant circumstance. We all of us keep our health, and are on the most friendly terms with the natives.... By the 27th of June we expect to have finished all our travels by land, and when we have once got afloat on the river, we shall conclude that we are embarking for England. I have never had the smallest sickness, and Alexander (Mrs. Park’s brother) is quite free from all his complaints.... We carry our own victuals with us, and live very well—in fact we have only had a very pleasant journey; and yet this is what we thought would be the worst part of it.”
In looking back undoubtedly Park had every reason to be satisfied with his journey so far. His men seemed to have worked heartily enough—at least we find no indications in his journal of insubordination, grumbling, or bad conduct. But then he never was in the habit of putting the least stress on his troubles. It was of more importance to him to be able to say that he had advanced a day’s march nearer the Niger than that he had been subjected to a week’s maddening worry. All vexations and discomforts he treated like the suppressed adventures of his former narrative, of which he said that as they were only of importance to himself, he would not weary the reader with a recital of them.
MUNGO PARK’S ENCAMPMENT.
MUNGO PARK’S ENCAMPMENT.
It is only too probable that he had much trouble with his men, and certainly between the lines we gather that he had an immense amount of work to perform—looking after his caravan on the road, buying food, and holding innumerable palavers, &c., in camp. Even the nights he could not call his own, for observations for latitude and longitude must be taken at all hours—notes written out, and the observations calculated. He had to be at once overseer, buyer of food, interpreter, surveyor, doctor, and general inspirer of the whole party. But he was equal to everything that could be put on his shoulders. Within him he had a sustaining force such as was known to none of those about him, and which gave him a giant’s strength and the spirit of the gods.
Park in his letter home was careful only to look backward: it is now our business to accompany him forward, and see what happened as he passed across the Senegal basin on his way to the Niger.
On the 7th of June he crossed the Samaku, which flows north to join the Falemé, and in fear of an attack, travelled rapidly through an uninhabited district by a forced march. Here two of the donkeys had to be abandoned, and there being no guiding pathway, as darkness came on, muskets were frequently fired to prevent the men losing each other.
Early next day the Falemé was seen in the distance. The carpenter, who had become very ill, could not sit upright on a donkey, and time after time threw himself off, declaring that he would rather die. Latterly it took two men to hold him in his seat by force, and at the Falemé, which was crossed in the course of the day, he had to be left behind in charge of a soldier. He died a few hours after.
That night a heavy tornado burst upon the caravan. Five soldiers who had not been under proper shelter, and got a wetting, became ill in consequence.
It could no longer be ignored that the rains were at last upon them, and that just when they were in the networkof streams into which the Senegal and the Niger divide in their uppermost reaches. One terrible necessity of their situation was, that sick or not sick, there could be no halting to allow of possible recovery. They must push forward towards their goal, though the route should be marked by the dead bodies of their comrades. The longer the delay, the more difficult would the march become, from flooded rivers, more incessant rains, and the increasing swampiness of the country.
Up to this time Park had followed his former return route. He now determined to strike a line further north in order to avoid the Jallonka Wilderness, of whose horrors he had such a lively recollection. The new route was hard and rocky, and very fatiguing to the donkeys. As the day went on many of the sick became hopelessly unfit to drive their animals. One of them Park mounted on his own horse while he himself assumed the part of donkey driver. Even then four of the donkeys had to be left in the woods, and he himself did not reach camp till long after dark. Before the tents could be pitched a tornado came down upon them and drenched them to the skin. The ground was speedily covered to a depth of three inches, and in this uncomfortable plight—fireless, tentless, dripping—they had to pass the night. A second tornado about two in the morning completed their discomfiture.
This night, in Park’s own words, was “the beginning of sorrows.... Now that the rain had set in, I trembled to think that we were only half way through our journey. The rain had not commenced three minutes before many of the soldiers were affected with vomiting, others fell asleep, and seemed as if half intoxicated. I felt a strong inclination to sleep during the storm, andas soon as it was over I fell asleep on the wet ground, although I used every exertion to keep myself awake. The soldiers likewise fell asleep on the wet bundles.”
The immediate result of that night was the addition of twelve men to the sick list. Next day all the horses and spare donkeys were requisitioned to carry such as were unable to walk. The road proved to be a difficult one along the base of the Konkadu mountains, whose precipices overhung the line of march in threatening masses.
Barely had camp been reached when once more a tornado burst in all its fury, but thanks to the proximity of a village, with less disastrous results than on the previous evening.
The storm past, Park proceeded to examine some gold diggings; after which, accompanied by Scott, he set off to the top of the Konkadu hills, finding them cultivated to the highest elevations. There also he found villages romantically situated in delightful glens, with water and grass in abundance throughout the year; and there, “while the thunder rolls in awful grandeur over their heads, they can look from their tremendous precipices over all that wild and woody plain which extends from the Falemé to the Bafing or Black River.”
To struggle forward handicapped with incapable men and driverless donkeys was now hard work. Half the caravan were sick, or too weak to exert themselves with effect. The result was never-ending confusion and delay. Unable to hold together, men and donkeys alike went astray, keeping Park, who could not be in a dozen places at once, in a state of continual watchfulness and motion, doing his best to bring up the incapables, and“coaxing” them to further exertions each time they insisted on lying down, indifferent alike to robbers, lions, or the fevers of night.
In spite of his iron constitution and sanguine heroic spirit Park himself was not altogether invulnerable, and he too became fevered at times—only, however, to show himself superior to suffering by virtue of his marvellous will and the exigencies of his situation. Conscious that the whole fate of the expedition depended upon his keeping well, he dared not give way. He was a second self to every one—without him all were absolutely helpless.
On leaving Fankia on the 15th of June, most of the men were ill, some of them even delirious. In this condition the caravan had to commence the ascent of the Tambaura mountains. The road was excessively steep—the donkeys terribly overloaded under their double burden of sick men and goods. Owing to the nature of the ground, each animal would have required at least one separate driver to guide and assist, but in the present case this was impossible. The result was a scene of dreadful confusion and disaster. Loaded donkeys were constantly tumbling over the rocks or falling exhausted on the pathway, while sick men, indifferent to their fate, threw themselves down, declaring they could go no further. The natives, discovering the predicament of the caravan, crept down among the rocks and stole what they could when a favourable opportunity offered.
At length, by means of superhuman exertions, Park succeeded in bringing all safely out of the perilous pass to a village, where he had the inexpressible pleasure of meeting the Mohammedan schoolmaster who hadbeen so kind to him at Kamalia, and while travelling with Karfa. As an earnest of his gratitude for past favours, Park gave him a handsome present of cloth, beads, and amber, with which the good old man was delighted. The God-fearing Scotchman did not neglect to add an Arabic New Testament to his other gifts.
The history of the expedition was now one of growing trouble, sickness, and disorganisation. Tornadoes were almost of daily occurrence, and the country and the streams became more and more difficult to traverse.
Up to the 17th of June two men had died, and on that date two more were left behind at the point of death. The three days following Park himself was sick, as were now more than half his men, though still they struggled on. To add to the dangers of their situation, they were utterly unable to keep proper watch over their goods either by day or night—a fact the natives speedily learned, and constantly dogged their footsteps, intent on plunder.
At one village the inhabitants turned outen masse, prepared to find the white man’s caravan so reduced by sickness as to fall an easy prize. As a preliminary to further depredations one of the villagers seized the bridle of the sergeant’s horse and tried to lead it and its apparently helpless owner inside the village walls. The presentation of the rider’s pistol made him think better of it. At the same time others made as if they would drive away the donkeys. They had reckoned without their host, however. Galvanised into new life, the soldiers promptly loaded their muskets and fixed their bayonets, at sight of which warlike preparations the natives were not slow to quit their prey and retire to a safer distance.