ROCK SCENERY OF THE UPPER SENEGAL.
ROCK SCENERY OF THE UPPER SENEGAL.
Having driven their animals across a torrent, the soldiers left certain of their number to guard them, and returned to the village, ready to give its inhabitants a lesson in courtesy and hospitality. At this moment Park arrived on the scene. Ever anxious to avoid bloodshed, he called a palaver, and speedily convinced the chief how insane it would be for him or his people to molest him. At the same time, desirous of leaving a favourable impression behind, in case any sick men might have to repass this way, Park gave the chief a present, with the remark that it was to show he did not come to make war, though if he were attacked he would fight to the last.
Beyond this point the country became picturesque beyond words, resembling in its physical features all sorts of architectural forms, ruined castles, spires, pyramids. One rocky hill looked so like a ruined Gothic abbey that the whole party had to approach close to it to satisfy themselves that its various features were not really what they seemed. Beyond thislusus naturæa compact mass of red granite stood up bare and gaunt, absolutely destitute of a relieving blade of grass. Here and there were villages clustering in the curved niches of giant precipices, alike secured from tropic blasts and the devastating attacks of men. Everything was rugged and grand—the sterner features only enhanced by the interchange of beautiful fertile hollows and silvery streams winding through the green fields and darker forest tracts.
Similar scenes characterised the whole journey through Konkadu, and the caravan at length reached the borders of Wuladu at the Bafing. The crossing of this river in small rickety canoes was not accomplished without a sadfatality, one of them capsizing with three soldiers, of whom one was drowned.
The people of Wuladu had a notorious reputation as thieves, the justice of which was speedily illustrated by their various more or less successful attempts to lift from the strangers whatever they saw, thus keeping the latter continually on the alert.
After crossing the Bafing, many of the sick who had struggled on bravely so far began to lose all spirit. An unconquerable lassitude at times seized them, and no matter what the danger of the situation, their only desire was to lie down and be left to die. To escape the cajolery and coercion to which they were subjected, they frequently left the track, and gave their leader no end of worry and trouble hunting them up after camp was reached. In this way several men disappeared altogether, bringing up the total losses on the 29th June to nine.
Besides its human cormorants, Wuladu proved to be infested with various beasts of prey, whereby further anxiety and watchfulness were entailed on the harassed and despondent little band, weak, and growing every day weaker.
Anderson and Scott, on whom Park so much depended to encourage and push on his followers, besides themselves doing the work of three or four, now became incapacitated, while as far as we can gather from the journal, Lieutenant Martyn never seems to have been of any use. Everything, accordingly, devolved on the leader himself, who, ailing as he was, had to put forth superhuman exertions—driving refractory and exhausted donkeys, lifting the fallen, and reloading such as had kicked off or dropped their burdens—at every step spurring on the sick and despondent to strive towards their destination, and not allow themselves to be murdered by natives, devoured by wild beasts, or overcome by the deadly malaria of the jungles. In camp he had as little rest as on the road. No one else was fit to do anything—or being fit, was not willing—so that he had to be man-of-all-work to nearly forty men. The night brought neither oblivion nor relaxation—only new anxieties and new duties. Sleep he could only get in short snatches—between whiles taking his astronomical observations, and making the round of the camp to stir up indifferent and sickly sentinels. Not unfrequently he had to mount guard himself throughout the whole night to save the donkeys from being killed or stampeded by the wild beasts which kept constantly prowling about. The stormier the night, the greater necessity was there for him to be up and doing, no matter what the cost to himself personally.
On the 4th of July the Furkomo River, another important tributary of the Senegal, was reached. The number of deaths now amounted to eleven, most of them having occurred within the last fortnight.
In crossing the Furkomo or Bakhoy, Isaaco had a narrow escape from a crocodile. When near the middle of the river, he was seized by the left thigh and pulled under water. With wonderful presence of mind he thrust his finger into the reptile’s eye, with the result that it let go its hold. Ere he could regain the shore, however, the crocodile returned to the attack, and seized him by the other thigh. Again he thrust his finger into its eye, with a similar happy result, and before it could come at him again, bleeding and lacerated, he reached land. That night, though it threatened rain, every onewas so sick and exhausted—even Park being unable to stand upright—that it was only with the utmost difficulty that the tents were put up and the loads placed inside. Isaaco’s wounds made travelling impossible for him, and as the caravan was largely dependent on his services, a three days’ halt was decided on.
With the guide’s partial recovery the march was continued to Keminum, the neighbourhood of which they reached with apprehension. The town was fortified in a remarkably strong fashion. There was first a ditch 8 feet deep, backed by a wall as many feet high. Inside was a second wall 10 feet in height, within which was a third of 16 feet.
The chief and his thirty sons were neither more nor less than an organised band of robbers who terrorised over the whole district. Ample evidence of the manner of his rule was afforded by the heap of human bones outside the walls, where he executed such prisoners as were not made slaves of. During the night all the energies of the caravan were employed in seeking to protect themselves from the incessant attempts of the natives to steal; but so helpless were most of the men that they allowed themselves to be deprived of great-coats, muskets, pistols, almost without resistance.
The morning brought no reprieve. The chief’s sons, not satisfied with their share of the present and the plunder, did their best to secure some valuable souvenirs of the white man. This one of them first tried to do wholesale by simply lifting a load from a donkey, but the culprit was chased and had to drop his plunder. The confusion produced by this incident gave another thief a chance to bolt with a musket.
Innumerable exasperating attempts of a similar naturekept Park in constant alarm lest some of the soldiers should use their weapons and precipitate a fight. Accordingly, his chief anxiety became to get away as quickly as possible. Riding a little way out of the village to see the nature of the road ahead, one of the chief’s sons distracted his attention while he halted, whereupon the other suddenly snatched away the traveller’s loosely held musket. At once Park gave chase with brandished sword. Anderson, seeing what had occurred, rushed to his assistance with upraised gun; but observing who was the offender, he hesitated to fire, with the result that the thief escaped safely to the rocks. Meanwhile the brother had leisurely helped himself to whatever loose property he found on Park’s horse.
Orders were now given to shoot the first person found stealing. But the princes were not easily frightened, and during a tornado that burst overhead, one of them got off with a musket and a couple of pistols. An attempt was next made to drive off the donkeys, but fortunately was frustrated. By way of example, a native detected in stealing was promptly fired at. On the march being resumed, every foot of the road was dogged by the plundering wretches, who scented their prey in every man who lagged behind, and every donkey that fell or strayed from the path.
It was dark before a camping place was reached, and the night was passed in much misery, man and beast lying on the wet ground without shelter, exposed to the excessively heavy dews.
The march through Wuladu was simply a daily repetition of the experiences at Keminum. Thieves hung on the skirts of the caravan like hyenas on the track of blood, never quitting them by night or by day.All stragglers, human or animal, they made their prey, and by their attempted depredations kept the unhappy travellers in constant alarm. Each morning and evening had its tale of loss. Everything, however, was tolerated, that bloodshed might be avoided—a forbearance only looked upon as weakness and cowardice by the natives, who were encouraged accordingly to continue their marauding with increased audacity. Park was at length driven to stronger measures, and on one occasion pursued a robber on horseback, and after hunting him down, shot him through the leg. This example had a most salutary effect for a time, though that day’s tale of spoliation alone included the more or less complete stripping of four sick men, and a donkey loaded with the muskets, &c., of the other invalids.
Let us quote a characteristic day’s proceedings from Park’s own journal:—
“July 19th.—Having purchased an ass in lieu of the one stolen, we left Nummabu, which is a walled village, and proceeded onwards. Had two tornadoes. The last, about eleven o’clock, wetted us much, and made the road slippery. Two asses unable to go on. Put their loads on the horses and left them. Mr. Scott’s horse unable to walk. Left it to our guide. At noon came to the ruins of a town. Found two more of the asses unable to carry their loads. Hired people to carry the loads, and a boy to drive the asses. Passed the ruins of another town at half-past twelve, where I found two of the sick who had laid themselves down under a tree and refused to rise. They were afterwards stripped by the negroes, and came naked to our tents next morning. Shortly after this came to an ass lying on the roadunable to proceed with its load. Put part of the load on my horse, which was already heavily loaded. Took a knapsack on my back. The soldier carried the remainder, and drove the ass before him. We arrived at the Ba Winbina at half-past one o’clock.” Here follows a description of how a bridge was built, which, though instructive in the extreme, is too long for insertion. “Our people being all sickly, I hired the negroes to carry over all the baggage, and swim over the asses. Our baggage was laid on the rocks on the east side of the river, but such was our weakly state that we were unable to carry it up the bank. Francis Beedle, one of the soldiers, was evidently dying of the fever, and having in vain attempted, with the assistance of one of his messmates, to carry him over, I was forced to leave him on the west bank, thinking it very probable that he would die in the course of the night.”
Day after day the same disheartening tale had to be told. Now a man is found expiring, and no time can be lost waiting for his death. Anon another left for dead is galvanised into life by the appearance of wolves ready to make a meal of him. On the 27th July one man had to be left in camp at the point of death—four more dropped down on the road and refused to proceed, wishing only to die. Park himself was “very sick and faint, having to drive my horse loaded with rice and an ass with the pit saw. Came to an eminence from which I had a view of some very distant mountains to the east half south. The certainty that the Niger washes the southern base of these mountains made me forget my fever, and I thought of nothing all the way but how to climb over their blue summits.” But to his men the sight gave neither health nor inspiration, and but for the fact that to go back was as difficult as to push forward, they would speedily have shown in what direction their desires tended.
What the inmost thoughts of the intrepid explorer were at this time we would give much to know. In his journal he nowhere lifts the veil. Throughout there is only the bare statement of fact that to-day so-and-so has died—yesterday such another had to be left to his fate: here a donkey was plundered—there an astronomical observation taken. The one thing that can touch his feelings is the sight of the blue summits of distant hills whose bases are washed by the waters of the Niger.
Writing home on the 29th of May, Park, calculating from his rate of progress so far, predicted that he would reach the Niger on the 27th of June. It was now the 27th of July, and he was still in the heart of Wuladu, and quite a hundred miles in a straight line from Bammaku, his primary destination.
Meanwhile every one of the donkeys he had originally started with had died or been stolen, and great inroads had been made on his stores in replacing them, not to speak of the loss entailed by plunder and other unforeseen causes. Twenty of his men had died or been murdered, and all of them were more or less unfit for work. Nevertheless his hopes were as unquenchable as ever, and he buoyed himself up with the belief that if he could reach the Niger with a certain proportion of his caravan, the success of his mission would be assured, as the rest of the wet season might be passed in comparative comfort while making preparations for navigating the river. Once launched on its broad bosom, there would be no more transport difficulties, and but little work for his men, so that everything might be expected to end happily and successfully.
Looking forward thus hopefully, Park turned S.W. from Bangassi, the chief town of Wuladu, and set hisface towards Bammaku. But however sanguine he might be, he could not improve the conditions of his march. The rains were now at their very worst. They fell no longer in passing tornadoes, but in an incessant drenching downpour. Every stream was swollen to the dimensions of a river—every plain became a lake or swamp through which the luckless travellers had to slip and plunge as best they might. The very pathways developed into rushing torrents. Subjected to such conditions of travel, disease demanded its daily quota of victims, while reducing the strength of all to the vanishing point. The men speedily became unable to load their animals—could hardly even drive them along. Nearly the whole work of the caravan fell upon its indomitable leader, who even on the road would sometimes have as many as thirteen fallen donkeys to raise up and reload.
On the 7th of August matters became so bad that he found it necessary to halt for two days—a delay which to him was almost maddening.
At the Ba Wulima, Park found Anderson lying under a bush apparently dying, and had to carry him over on his back. To assist in the transport of loads, &c., he had to cross the river sixteen times, with the water reaching to his waist. In spite of his exertions, however, several soldiers with their donkeys had to be left behind.
In two days four men had been lost—the slow agony of death from fever being undoubtedly in each case accelerated by the daggers of robber negroes or the fell fangs of wolves and other wild beasts.
On the day after leaving the Ba Wulima, Park was the only European able to do any work, and but for theassistance of Isaaco and his men, the caravan would have been compelled to remain in camp. The day’s march was a trying one. Anderson seemed at the point of death, and it was with difficulty that his brother-in-law succeeded in holding him on a horse. Every hour threatened to be his last, and only by frequent rests could he be got forward in short stages. While thus employed supporting and cheering his well-loved friend on the way towards camp, Park was suddenly confounded by coming face to face with three large lions making rapidly towards them. Intent first of all on saving Anderson, with splendid courage he ran forward to meet them half way, and so as to reserve himself a second chance if his musket should miss fire, he aimed as soon as the lions were within easy shot, and fired at the middle one of the three. This reception brought the enemy to a standstill, and after seemingly taking counsel of each other, they turned tail and bounded away. One, however, quickly stopped, and turned round as if meditating another attack, but thinking better of it, again resumed its flight, and left the travellers to continue their way, though not without the strongest suspicions that they were still being tracked, and might be pounced upon in the fast gathering darkness. Before camp was reached the path taken by the caravan was lost, and in the darkness Park and his companion wandered into a gully, where the road became so dangerous that at length they dared not move further from fear of being killed by falling over a precipice. Accordingly they were compelled to make the best of their position, and wait till morning tentless and foodless. Fortunately they were able to raise a fire, near which, while Anderson lay wrapt in a cloak, Park kept watch all night, to driveoff lions and wolves. In the morning it was discovered that half the caravan had passed the night in scattered parties in much the same manner as their leader. Happily there were no casualties.
At a place called Dumbila, Park had the pleasure of meeting his old friend and protector, Karfa Taura. Here Anderson became too ill to be moved, Scott had disappeared, and only one man was able to drive a donkey. At night rain descended in drenching torrents, and the men took refuge in the village, leaving their leader alone to watch that the donkeys did not stray into the neighbouring corn-fields, and to defend them and their loads alike from the attacks of wild beasts and from the bands of marauding natives. But no matter how heavy the burdens, not a grumble escaped the hero who had to bear them all—not a hint that he felt himself badly treated by his men and their officers.
On the 19th of August, Park, with the helpless, shattered remnant of his caravan, ascended the mountain ridge which forms the watershed between the Senegal and the Niger. Pushing on eagerly to the summit of the hill, the toil and careworn traveller’s eyes were gladdened by the spectacle of the “Niger rolling its immense stream along the plain.”
“After the fatiguing march which we had just experienced, the sight of this river was no doubt pleasant, as it promised an end to, or at least an alleviation of, our toils. But when I reflected that three-fourths of the soldiers had died on the march, and that in addition to our weakly state we had no carpenters to build the boats in which we proposed to prosecute our discoveries, the prospect appeared somewhat gloomy. It, however, afforded me peculiar pleasure when I reflectedthat in conducting a party of Europeans with immense baggage through an extent of more than five hundred miles, I had always been able to preserve the most friendly terms with the natives.”
The latter sentence is well worthy of note as illustrative of Park’s methods of travel at a time when the sanctity of human life, whether black or white, was not quite so much thought of as at present.
In speaking of the distance traversed as five hundred miles, it must be remembered that what is meant is the distance in a straight line expressed in geographical miles. The actual number of English miles travelled over would be in reality little short of a thousand.
Notwithstanding his frightful experiences, Park considered that his “journey plainly demonstrates—first, that with common prudence any quantity of merchandise may be transported from the Gambia to the Niger without danger of being robbed by the natives; second, that if this journey be performed in the dry season, one may calculate on losing not more than three, or at most four men, out of fifty.”
We would naturally have expected him to add as a third conclusion, that under no circumstance should Europeans be employed in such a caravan except as conductors, or it might be as guards. That conclusion, however, he apparently did not reach—indeed, we look in vain throughout his journal for any indication that he was at all aware of the frightful nature of his blunder in starting only with Europeans.
And yet before him was the tangible fact, that of thirty-four soldiers and four carpenters who left the Gambia with him, only seven entered Bammaku, while Isaaco and his attendants were all alive and hearty,though much of the white men’s work had fallen upon them in addition to their own.
Three days after their arrival at Bammaku the travellers continued their way. Martyn, with the men and the donkeys, proceeded by land, while Park, Anderson, and the goods glided down the river in canoes, at the rate of five knots an hour, without the necessity of paddling. At their starting point the river was a mile broad; but further down, where it passes through a range of hills and forms rapids, it attains twice that breadth. Here the great mass of water is gathered into three principal channels, along which it rushes with much noise, and a speed which made Park sigh as the frail canoes containing all his precious stores sped into the sweeping tide, and seemed threatened with momentary destruction.
Two such rapids and three smaller ones were safely passed during the afternoon. At one place an elephant was seen standing on an island, so near that if Park had not been too ill, he would have had a shot at it.
At several points the canoes ran considerable danger of being upset by hippos. At night the party landed, and after a supper of rice and fresh-water turtle, spent a night exposed to the violence of a tropic storm.
At Marrabu, where they arrived on the second day, a halt was called, while Isaaco was despatched to Sego with a message and a present for Mansong, king of Bambarra, whose good offices were likely to prove invaluable, ruling as he did over the whole country from Bammaku to Timbuktu. While awaiting his messenger’s return, Park, who had been suffering from dysentery ever since his arrival on the river, and found himself failing fast under its deadly attacks, dosed himself with calomeltill it affected his throat to such a degree that he could neither speak nor sleep for six days. The experiment was successful, however, as regards stopping the progress of the disease, and his health speedily began to improve.
The interval of waiting to which he was now subjected was a time of extreme anxiety. The check which all the physical difficulties of the march and the death of three-fourths of his men had failed to give him might be effected by the will of Mansong. On the decision of the negro ruler depended Park’s further movements. A Yes might assure the complete realisation of all his dearest hopes—a No would be their death-knell.
Each day brought its crop of unfavourable rumours. Among others came the report that Mansong had killed Isaaco with his own hands, and intended to finish off the white men in a similar summary fashion. Happily this and kindred stories proved to be pure inventions, and after a fortnight’s delay a messenger arrived to conduct Park to Sego, bringing with him an encouraging account of Mansong’s disposition towards him.
The drastic methods of the emissaries of negro kings were well illustrated by the following incident. A native refusing to give up a canoe for the messenger’s use, the latter not only seized the canoe in question, but cut the owner across the forehead with his sword, broke the brother’s head with a paddle, and finally made a slave of the son. Before such deeds criticism was dumb.
And now all seemed about to go well with the expedition. Cradled on the majestic bosom of the great river, with toils and worry over, its leader could afford to allow himself to be lulled into a sweet dreamland, in which he saw himself gliding peacefully towards the Congo and the Atlantic. Of goods he had still sufficientfor his object—of men, too, there were enough; and with mind thus comparatively at ease, he could give himself up to the enjoyment of the beautiful views of “this immense river—sometimes as smooth as a mirror, at others ruffled by a gentle breeze, but at all times sweeping along at the rate of six or seven miles an hour.”
In two days Yamina was reached, and a third brought the party to Sami, where once more they halted while the messenger went forward to inform Mansong of their proximity, and ask instructions concerning them. Two days later Isaaco joined them from Sego. He reported that Mansong’s position was very neutral. The king showed impatience when the subject of the white men was broached, though he had said that they were at liberty to pass down the river. In addition he gave Isaaco to understand that he wanted no direct dealings with Park.
On the following day a king’s messenger arrived to receive Mansong’s present from Park’s own hands, as well as to hear the object of his visit. In his speech the traveller told how he was the same poor white man who, after being plundered by the Moors, was so hospitably received by their king, whose generous conduct had made his name much respected in the country of the Europeans. He then proceeded to point out what a trading people his (the traveller’s) were, and how all the articles of value that reached the country of Mansong were made by them, being afterwards brought by Moors and others by long and expensive routes, which made everything extremely dear. That these European goods might be brought cheaper to Bambarra for the mutual benefit of whites and blacks, his king had senthim to see if a short and easy route could not be found by way of the Niger. If such was discovered, then the white men’s vessels would come direct all the way from Europe and supply them with abundance of all their good things at cheap prices.
In reply to this speech the emissary said that the white man’s journey was a good one, and prayed that God might prosper him in it. Mansong would protect him. The sight of the presents added to the friendly feelings thus expressed.
To dash Park’s joy at the favourable aspect of affairs two more soldiers died—one of fever, the other of dysentery—leaving him with only four men, besides Anderson and Martyn.
In a couple of days the king sent a further message intimating that the white strangers would be protected, and that wherever his power and influence extended the road would be open to them. If they went East, no man would harm them till beyond Timbuktu. Westward, the name of Mansong’s stranger would be a safe password through the land to the Atlantic itself. If they wished to sail down the river, they were at liberty to build boats at any town they pleased.
As Mansong had never once expressed a wish to see him, and seemingly had some superstitious fear of the possible consequence, Park fixed upon Sansandig as the best place to prepare for his new adventure. Here, too, he would have more quiet, and would be more exempt from begging, than within the daily range of the king’s officials.
In his passage from Sami to Sansandig, Park was attacked by a violent fever, which rendered him temporarily delirious. According to the sufferer, the heatwas so terrific as to have been equal to the roasting of a sirloin, and there was neither covering to ward it off nor slightest puff of wind to temper it.
On reaching his destination the traveller was received by his old friend Kunti Mamadi, who placed the necessary huts at his disposal. On the following day two more of his men expired, and it began to look as if at the very moment when success seemed assured he was to be doomed to lose all. So frightfully were they all reduced at this time, and so little able to look after each other, that, unmolested, hyenas entered the dead men’s hut, dragged one of them out, and devoured him.
From Park’s journal we get an interesting glimpse of Sansandig, with its 11,000 inhabitants and its mosques, of which two were by “no means inelegant.” But, as in all African towns, it was the market-place which was the centre of life and interest. From morning till night the square was crowded with busy groups of people gathered round the various mat-covered stalls which formed the shops, each containing its own speciality—beads in every gorgeous hue to catch the eye of the ornament-loving sex, antimony to darken and beautify the tips of the ladies’ eyelids, rings and bracelets to attract wandering male glances to female feet and hands. In more substantial houses were scarlet cloths, silks, amber, and other valuable commodities which had found their way across the desert from Morocco or Tripoli—over roads marked out by the skeletons of slaves and camels who had sunk down to perish under the frightful hardships of the route. Vegetables, meat, salt, &c., each had their own stalls—beer, too, in large quantities, near a booth where leather work found its purchasers.
Such was the everyday state of the square; but the scene was still more animated and interesting on the occasion of the Tuesday weekly market. On that day enormous crowds of people gathered from the whole surrounding country to buy and sell wholesale, and many were the delightful glimpses of native life and character continually presenting themselves to the eyes of the observant traveller. He even found a means whereby to turn the market to his own advantage.
Mansong being slow in carrying out his promise to supply canoes to be turned into boats, Park opened a shop himself for the purpose of exchanging some of his articles for cowries, by which he hoped to purchase the necessary means of transport. He made such a tempting display that he had at once a great run of business, and became the envy of all the merchants of the place. In one day he secured 25,000 cowries.
While thus peacefully employed, every effort was being made on the part of the Moors and native merchants in order to set Mansong against the white man, and get him killed, or sent back by the way he had come. They even did not hesitate to say that his object was to kill the king and his sons by means of charms. Mansong, however, was not to be prevailed on by such instigations, though his behaviour showed some belief in the reported magical powers.
After much delay, Park succeeded in obtaining two canoes, to join which together he and Bolton, the sole remaining capable man, now set themselves with great vigour. The rotten parts were replaced, the holes were repaired, and after eighteen days’ hard labour the united canoes were launched and christened His Majesty’s schoonerJoliba, the length being forty feet, and thebreadth six. Being flat-bottomed, it drew only one foot of water.
While Park was thus toiling with feverish energy to complete his preparations, Martyn seems to have been taking life very easily. From a letter written from Sansandig to a friend at Goree we get an idea of the sort of man he was, and how much he assisted in the work of the expedition. “Whitebread’s beer,” says the Lieutenant, “is nothing to what we get at this place, as I feel by my head this morning, having been drinking all night with a Moor, and ended by giving him an excellent thrashing.” Could the contrast possibly be greater between Park and this man—the one possessed with a consuming desire to accomplish a work seemingly beyond mortal power, slaving with the strength of half-a-dozen ordinary men, uncrushed by a myriad misfortunes, his hero’s spirit equal to every difficulty and danger; the other spending his time in drunken orgies, seemingly as careless of his life as indifferent to the great mission that was partly his.
The last and worst stroke of evil fortune that could befall Park came upon him in the form of his brother-in-law Anderson’s death, which occurred on the 28th October. He had been Park’s special support in all his trials, ever the one to whom he could open his heart, or from whom he could seek advice and encouragement. His thoughts and feelings on the occasion, Park, with characteristic reserve, does not put on paper, though he cannot help observing “that no event which took place during the journey ever threw the smallest gloom on my mind till I laid Mr. Anderson in the grave. I then felt myself as if left a second time lonely and friendless amidst the wilds of Africa.”
By the middle of November the last preparations for the great voyage on the Niger were completed. Isaaco had been paid off, and one Amadi Fatuma, a native of Karson, and a great traveller, hired in his place to guide the party to Kashna, which Park still believed to be on the river. To Isaaco, Park’s precious journal was entrusted for conveyance home.
On the 17th November, dating from “On board of H.M. schoonerJoliba, at anchor off Sansandig,” Park wrote to Lord Camden. After some remarks on his situation, he continues—
“From this account I am afraid that your Lordship will be apt to consider matters as in a very hopeless state, but I assure you I am far from desponding. With the assistance of one of the soldiers I have changed a large canoe into a tolerably good schooner, on board of which I shall set sail to the east, with the fixed resolution to discover the termination of the Niger or perish in the attempt. I have heard nothing I can depend on respecting the remote course of this mighty stream, but I am more and more inclined to think that it can end nowhere but in the sea.
“My dear friend Mr. Anderson, and likewise Mr. Scott, are both dead; but though all the Europeanswho are with me should die, and though I were myself half dead, I would still persevere, and if I could not succeed in the object of my journey, I would at least die on the Niger. If I succeed in the object of my journey, I expect to be in England in the month of May or June, by way of the West Indies.”
On the 19th he wrote to his wife—
“ ... I am afraid that, impressed with a woman’s fears and the anxieties of a wife, you may be led to consider my situation as a great deal worse than it is.... The rains are completely over, and the healthy season has commenced, so that there is no danger of sickness, and I have still a sufficient force to protect me from any insult in sailing down the river to the sea.
“We have already embarked all our things, and shall sail the moment I have finished this letter. I do not intend to stop nor land anywhere till we reach the coast, which I suppose will be some time in the end of January.... I think it not unlikely but that I shall be in England before you receive this.... We this morning have done with all intercourse with the natives. The sails are now being hoisted for our departure to the coast.”
These letters are full of brave words, yet they do not express one iota more than what Park was capable of. They breathe his remarkable personality in every line. They show the heroic spirit that does not know the word impossible, that does not know when it is beaten—that having once set itself a task, is incapable of turning back. They speak eloquently of a stubborn resolution which only death itself can render powerless, and such a resolution as the world has rarely seen.
It is almost impossible to realise the position of ourhero at the moment when he prepared to embark on one of the most perilous and uncertain voyages history records. In some aspects it deserves to rank with the voyage of Columbus across the Atlantic. The bourne was equally uncertain, the distance not so very much less, the perils quite as great. It might even be said that compared with that of Park, the enterprise of Columbus was most hopeful. Columbus, too, had always the option of turning back. For Park there was no such door of escape. Success or death was his only choice, and even success might mean captivity or worse, the best geographer of the time holding that the Niger termination was not in the ocean, but in the heart of the continent. If he proved right, how many were the chances against Park’s ever finding his way out again.
It is to be remembered, in addition, that this voyage of from 2000 to 3000 miles—supposing the Niger to be the same as the Congo—was not embarked upon in the heyday of the party’s hopes, but after an unparalleled series of misfortunes and a frightful tale of death.
For sole means of carrying out this wonderful enterprise Park had nothing better than an unwieldy half-rotten canoe, and a crew consisting of an officer wholly unsuited to the work, three European privates, of whom one was mad and the others sick, and lastly, Amadi Fatuma, the guide, and three slaves—nine men in all.
With this “sufficient force to protect me from insult,” the canoe had to be navigated without a pilot for hundreds of miles along a river studded at parts with dangerous rocks, and everywhere infested by equally dangerous hippos—a river whose banks were occupied for much of the way by fanatical Moors and Tuaregs,while beyond were unknown tribes of cannibal savages and other bloodthirsty natives.
But nothing could daunt the intrepid explorer—nothing make him waver in his “fixed resolution to discover the termination of the Niger or die in the attempt.”
Thus spiritually armed and inspired, and thus materially supported, with the writing of his last words to the world, the sails of theJolibawere unfurled to the wind, and like Ulysses of old, Park pushed off from land bent on some work of noble note. And though made “weak by time and fate,” still “strong in will, to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield” till death itself should close his toilsome struggle, or Ocean once more happily receive him on its broad bosom, and bear him to the “Happy Isles” and the blessed guerdon of his accomplished work.
The die was cast, and down the great river he glided towards the untravelled countries of the east and south—towards the heart of savage Africa, and the deep darkness of the Unexplored.
His journals and letters in the hands of the faithful Isaaco safely reached the coast and afterwards Europe, thrilling all true-born men and women with the unparalleled tale of travel they so simply yet graphically unfolded. All waited with eager impatience for the reappearance of the hero. Speculation was rife as to his point of exit, or whether he would ever be heard of more.
May of 1806 passed into June without bringing further news. The year 1806 gave place to 1807, and then fears as to the ultimate fate of the expedition began to find expression. To strengthen these, rumoursfrom West Africa reached home that native traders from the interior reported a disastrous close to the enterprise. With each succeeding month these reports grew in number and consistency, till Government could no longer ignore them, and determined to send a reliable native to the Niger to make special inquiries.
For this task Isaaco was engaged, and in January 1810 he left Senegal. In October of the same year he reached Sansandig, where he was so fortunate as to find Amadi Fatuma, the guide Park had taken with him down the Niger.
On seeing Isaaco, Amadi broke into tears and lamentations, crying out, “They are all dead, they are lost for ever!” His story was soon told. The substance of it was as follows:—
On leaving Sansandig, Park, in pursuance of his plan not to hold communication with the people on land, so as if possible to avoid attack or detention, pursued his course down the middle of the stream. At Silla another slave was added to the party, and at Jenné a present was sent to the head man, though no landing was made at either place.
On reaching the point where the Niger divides to form the island of Jinbala, they were attacked by three canoes armed with pikes and bows and arrows, which were repulsed by force on the failure of more peaceful methods.
At a place called Rakhara a similar attempt was made to stop the progress of theJoliba, and a third near Timbuktu. On each occasion the natives were driven back with the loss of many killed and wounded.
On passing Timbuktu, the country of Gurma and the lands of the Tuaregs lay before them. In this part ofthe river a determined attempt to dispute their passage was made by seven canoes; but the natives having no guns, were easily repulsed by the crew of theJoliba, which, though reduced to eight in number, were well supplied with muskets, constantly kept ready for action. Here another soldier died. Further on theJolibawas attacked by sixty canoes, but without serious result.
If the guide is to be trusted, Martyn seems to have enjoyed this part of the work to the full—so much so, indeed, that once, after a good deal of bloodshed, Amadi seized the Lieutenant’s hand and begged him to desist, there being no further necessity for fighting. So enraged was Martyn, that the humane interference would have cost Amadi his life, but for Park’s intervention.
Some distance beyond the scene of this battle theJolibastruck on the rocks, and during the confusion which ensued a hippo nearly completed their discomfiture by rushing at the boat, which it would have destroyed or upset, but for the timely firing of the men’s guns. With great difficulty the canoe was got off without having suffered any material damage.
The party had now reached the centre of the ancient empire of Songhay, and everything was going as well as could be expected. They had still sufficient provisions to make landing unnecessary.
At a place called Kaffo three more canoes had to be driven back, and further on the guide, on landing to buy some milk, was seized by the natives. Park, seeing this, promptly laid hold of two canoes which had come alongside, and let their owners understand that unless his man was released he would kill them all and carry off their canoes. This threat had the required result, the guide being released, and amicable relations resumed.
Beyond the point where this incident happened, the river became difficult to navigate. It was broken up by islands and rocks into three narrow passages. The place is probably that marked in Barth’s map, some seventy miles south of Gargo, the former capital of Songhay. The first passage tried was found to be guarded by armed men, “which,” says the guide, “caused great uneasiness to us, especially to me, and I seriously promised never to pass there again without making considerable charitable donations to the poor.” On trying a second channel the party was not molested.
A few days later they reached the Haussa country, probably near the Gulbi-n-Gindi, which comes from Kebbi, the western of the then independent states. Here, according to Amadi, his agreement ended, though, according to Park’s letters, he was to have gone as far as Kashna. Before separating from his guide Park wrote down the names of the necessaries of life and some useful phrases in the dialects of the remaining countries through which he had to pass. This task occupied two days, during which theJolibaremained at anchor, but without landing any of her crew.
Though thus losing his interpreter, and adding in consequence to the dangers of the voyage by having no one through whom to communicate when necessary with the natives, Park had every reason to be hopeful. He had now sailed over a thousand miles down the river without any serious mishap, though the way had lain through the country of the Moors, and their equally fanatical co-religionists the Tuaregs. Ahead lay the land of the negroes, among whom, all things considered, he had ever found a kindly welcome and hospitable treatment. Especially encouraging was the fact that theNiger was flowing due south—consequently towards the Atlantic, and not to the inland swamps of Rennell’s theories.
There was therefore no great reason to consider the want of an interpreter as an important drawback, and consequently no attempt was made to induce Amadi to go further than Yauri, the next district to the south of the Gulbi-n-Gindi. Here Amadi went ashore, and after exchanging presents on the part of Park with the king, Al Hadj, or the “Pilgrim,” bought more provisions, to enable the white men to continue their way without landing. This, though probably a necessary business, was destined to prove fatal to the prospects of the expedition. The cupidity of the natives was aroused by the wealth which the strangers were believed to have with them—a sample of which was afforded by the presents sent to the king.
Immediately to the south of Yauri, the low, flat valley of the Niger contracts to a glen or gorge, where the subtending sandstone hills pass into abrupt and precipitous masses of hard metamorphic rock, and break up the channel of the river by dangerous rocks and islands occupied by villages. Thus narrowed and divided the waters of the river sweep onward in three branches—one of them easy to navigate; the others difficult at flood time, and almost impossible when the river is low.
During the delay at Yauri the news of the strangers’ coming either spread in the ordinary way to Bussa, or was conveyed by special messenger, and preparations were made to stop them.