CHAPTER X

FROM BUSSA TO THE SEA; CONCLUSION OF OUR VOYAGE

The whole of the morning of the 3rd was occupied in receiving visits

from people more or less nearly related to the chief, and in the

afternoon I was informed that his Majesty himself would receive me.

We crossed a marsh between the village and the bank, and duly arrived

at Bussa.

There is nothing very imposing about the town, and it has been

recently much damaged by fire. We stopped at the door of a big

round hut, some thirty-five to forty-five feet in diameter, which

was really very well built. After a brief delay we were admitted.

The chief of Bussa was squatting on a bench of hardened earth, some

twenty inches high, and wore a _bubu_ of doubtful cleanliness, and a

cap such as that worn by the eunuch in Molière’s play to which I

alluded in speaking of Dendi. The bench was covered with just such a

red carpet, with a lion rampant as I had seen at Tenda. The chief’s

spear was stuck in the ground beside him, and his sceptre consisted

of a cane ornamented with copper and silver. A horribly ugly wife,

with a face covered with scars, shared the royal bench, whilst the

courtiers remained squatted on the sand during the interview. On

entering the hut every one was expected to kneel, and on reaching

the chief the visitor had again to prostrate himself and cast sand

upon his own head.

[Illustration: VIEW OF BUSSA.]

A wooden bench was assigned to us to sit on, and I spread out the

handsomest present I had brought with me.

Salutations were now exchanged. Thanks were given in the name of

the Sultan of the French for the help given to Captain Toutée the

year before by the Bussa canoes. I then slipped in a word about the

facilities of transport I hoped for for myself.

The reply was evasive, and moreover the expression of the chief’s

face was anything but intelligent. We returned on board.

The next day our visitors became more and more numerous. Having shown

off the phonograph to various persons, the rumour of that wonderful

instrument reached the ears of the chief himself, and he sent word

to me that he too would like to hear it.

[Illustration: NATIVES OF BUSSA.]

He was, however, unwilling to put himself to any inconvenience for

the sake of it, and wished me to take it to him. Anywhere else

but at Bussa I would have said he might go to the devil, for it

would be a very delicate operation to take the phonograph to him,

especially across the marsh. But I was determined to do all in my

power to conciliate the chief, so as to have his aid when I crossed

the rapids. Four of my strongest coolies were therefore told off to

carry the instrument, which fortunately arrived without sustaining

any damage.

The scene when I showed off the powers of the phonograph was

interesting, for while the attendants of the chief could not conceal

their surprise, he himself maintained his dignity, and his set

features expressed nothing but stupidity. He offered us a sheep,

because he said, “Now that we have been well amused, we must eat

well.” Trying to turn his good humour to account, I reverted to the

question I had at heart—the passage of the rapids. It appeared that

my question on the subject had not been understood the evening before,

at least so I was now given to understand. I repeated my request,

taking care this time to make my meaning perfectly clear. I wanted

Bussa canoes to take everything we had on board down below the rapids

to the village of Auru, as they do the merchandise of the village. We

ourselves could then pass down quite easily in our lightened crafts

with the guides I also asked for. I got a promise at last that all

my wishes should be met.

[Illustration: CANOES AT BUSSA.]

On the 5th, however, there were still no canoes, but at four o’clock

the chief sent for me and told me that the whole thing was arranged

and settled. In fact, I heard him give the orders to two negroes,

who were, I was told, the chief canoe men. We agreed that I should

pay two hundred thousand cowries. Thinking that everything was really

settled this time, I gave the chief my own fowling-piece and a little

pocket revolver.

[Illustration: WOMEN OF BUSSA.]

During the day more big canoes, from about twenty-seven to

thirty-three feet long, came alongside of our boats loaded with

rice and the native produce called _karité_. The English at Seba

I was told give two bags of salt for one of rice, and the _karité_

which comes from Rupia fetches a good price in the factories.

I must note here, _en passant_, how little we French know how to

make the most of what we have in our colonies. This _karité_,

for instance, which is a greasy substance extracted from the fruit

of the _Bassia parkii_, is to be obtained in immense quantities in

the French Sudan. It has been analyzed, and there has been a great

deal of talk about it in periodical literature, but not a pound of

it has been exported.

[Illustration: WOMEN OF BUSSA.]

I had mentally fixed the 7th as the date for our departure from Bussa,

at whatever cost. We had now been there three days, and the English

must have heard of our arrival. How would they behave towards us? I

know that the Royal Niger Company is not particularly scrupulous as

to the means it employs, and of this there are plenty of well-known

instances: such as the torture of Mizon by Flint at Akassa, after

being wounded in a fight with the Patanis, who were perhaps incited

against him; or in the case of the foundering of the _Ardent_,

when her crew, deprived of fresh provisions, died off, the Company

showing not a scrap of compassion for them, or at least not sending

them any help.

[Illustration: TRUMPETERS OF BUSSA.]

From the English point of view, it would be a fairer way of making

war to rouse the people of Bussa against us; but never mind, we have

cannon, rifles, and thirty thousand cartridges, so that although the

natives do own a certain number of quick-firing weapons, we should

be the ones to get the best of it in a fight.

What I really dread more than the open hostility of the Company is a

sham friendliness on their part. If they came to our aid, offering

to help us, even in spite of ourselves, it would only be a bit of

clever diplomacy on their part, really quite against our interests.

I knew that the English had a post at Leba, about forty-four miles

down-stream, and if there happened to be men enough there, they

might send a detachment up to us, to conquer difficulties they had

themselves perhaps created, when they would loudly declare that they

had saved our lives.

Should this take place, I feel pretty sure there are many in France

who would be simple enough to be taken in; such a thing has happened

before now, and I bet you anything you like, the English will be

warmly thanked. Remaining behind after we are gone too, they will

reap all the moral effect of our arrival from the Upper Niger; the

natives distinguish very little between the different white nations,

and it would be only too easy for the English to represent that

we are fellow-countrymen of theirs who have established themselves

higher up-stream.

If, therefore, we meant to succeed, and not to have our expedition

fail at the very entrance of the long-hoped-for haven, we must push

on as soon as possible, with or without the help of the natives. This

was the resolution come to by us five in a little council of war we

held together.

At four o’clock in the afternoon there was still no sign of a

canoe. The moment of decision had come. We had quantities of things

in our holds of little use or value, so I determined to lighten the

boats as much as possible, partly to lessen their draught, and partly

to make it easier to get at their bottoms to plug up any leak which

should occur.

To begin with, there was all our ammunition, for except for a few,

used to practise shooting and to kill crocodiles, our store of

thirty thousand cartridges was intact. I decided to sacrifice

twenty-two thousand, and Digui, having found a place where the

river was deep enough not to dry up in the summer, our canoe went

backwards and forwards, and our men threw the cases into the river

one by one. The natives of Bussa ran to the banks and looked on in

stupefied astonishment; the copper cases gleaming in the sunshine

excited their cupidity.

Next we drowned many of our other stores. Into the water with

our bottles of oil and pots of pomade! Then into the fire with our

celluloid bracelets, necklaces, and rings! The despair of the natives

on the bank became deeper and deeper, reaching its height when, just

to wind up with _éclat_ and to increase their regrets rather than

from necessity, we flung two or three dozen many-coloured umbrellas

on to the blazing pile. This produced positive desolation amongst the

spectators. All the better, it would teach them to behave properly

to foreigners.

A Fulah, sent I was told by the Sultan of Gando, flung himself at my

feet and entreated me to stop the destruction, assuring me that the

chief of Bussa would do all we wished. I reminded him of a proverb

current in his native place: “It is no good to put the fish back in

the water after it is cooked.” I had often been to that monarch’s

court, I added, and I had no time to begin all over again, probably

in vain, the palavers of yesterday and the day before that. I had

had enough of it now.

The river was falling too; we had noticed a decrease of some four

inches in the depth of the water during the last twenty-four hours,

and although all the natives agreed in declaring that it was only

temporary, I was not going to run the risk of finding our passage

blocked.

Amongst the crowd I noticed a _diavandu_ from Igga, who was

trying to incite the natives against us. There were several of his

fellow-countrymen there too, easily identified by their _bubus_

with the green embroideries already referred to as sold by the

Niger Company.

I was now assured that the chief had had his canoe men put in

irons for disappointing us, but unfortunately a minute afterwards

I recognized them in the crowd.

I copy the following sentence from my journal written on the spur

of the moment—

[Illustration: WOMEN OF BUSSA.]

“It is very evident that the English have not lost time since

last year; they have not, it is true, as I feared they would, pushed

their effective occupation up-stream, but have merely, so to speak,

set going the cavalry of Saint George. Their plan is simply to delay

us; yes, to delay us till it is impossible for our boats to pass the

rapids. We should then be obliged to go by land through Burgu, which

they know to be dangerous, and where they have no doubt sown obstacles

for us—one well-aimed shot, one well-planted poisoned arrow, and

there would be an end of our expedition and its results. Otherwise

there would be nothing left for us to do but to go down to Leba and

ask the English to co-operate with us.

“This was the policy described by Agoult, but _Inch Allah!_

our rivals will not have the latter satisfaction. Let us pass the

rapids somehow or other, and I promise myself that I will describe

the odiousness of such conduct even to, indeed especially to, the

honest portion of the English nation. The first thing to be done is

to pass the rapids.”

Weary of the dispute, and seeing that I was quite decided not to

return to the village, the messenger from the chief now left. Our

old guide was in despair, for he had boasted so much to us of his

influence over the chief of Bussa. “I must have become blind or

stupid,” he said, “for he cannot really have been telling lies

all the time.”

I tried to persuade Amadu to accompany us at least, but he confessed

that though it was true he had passed the rapids, it was twenty years

ago. Still he did not like to refuse straight out. He would land now,

and then he would see.

Night had now fallen, and a quarter of an hour after our guide

had left we heard loud cries and the noise of people running. We

seized our weapons, but it was only old Amadu coming back out of

breath. Four or five pieces of stuff which I had given him as payment

had been stolen from him. Some men had fallen on him about half-way

to the village.

Seeing that they meant to take his life, or at least to deprive him

of liberty, he had drawn his sword (it was only a bit of iron from an

old cask), resolved to defend himself to the last. The Bussa bravos,

five against one poor old man, had at first run away, and Amadu had

profited by their alarm to take to his own legs. Then they ran after

him again, but he managed to get safely back to us on board our boat

without further adventures.

These silly natives had thus secured us a guide on whom I had

certainly not counted, for Amadu would not leave our boats now. I

asked him if he wanted to go down as far as Leba, to which he replied

“_Dolé_,” or needs must.

For the whole night I pondered on the situation, whilst a continual

watch was kept on board. My first idea was to bombard the village of

Bussa at daybreak, and thus give its people a severe lesson. There

really had been a flagrant and successful attack made on the person

of a member of my expedition.

Further reflection, however, brought me to a better mind, for,

truth to tell, I did not know how matters stood with regard to the

questions of delimitation between the French and the English. The

latter claim Bussa in virtue of treaties made with the Royal Niger

Company, but Commandant Toutée denies that these treaties are

valid. Who is right? Who is wrong? I am sure I don’t know. The

chief of Bussa acted towards me as if he were quite independent,

and perhaps he is the one to speak the truth after all.

If, however, the actual or implicit assertions of the English be

true, it results that one of their _protégés_ had committed an

aggression on one of our party, the odium and responsibility of

which rests with them. Either they have effective power and real

influence at Bussa, which would make them accomplices, or they have

not, and in the latter case their assertions are lies. The dilemma

appears to me to be one difficult to elude, and I leave to French

diplomatists the task of deducting from it the practical consequences.

I think I must have scented mischief when I refrained from accepting

the chief’s last invitation. That at least was the opinion of our

guide, for he is convinced that if he had not made his escape the

evening before, his head would have been no longer on his shoulders.

I learnt later that when the attack took place on the director

Fonssagrives at Yangbassu, the people of Bussa had sent reinforcements

to the assailants. Once more a mere chance had saved us from a great

danger, and from falling into the trap set for us.

[Illustration: AMONG THE RAPIDS.]

The 7th and 8th of this month will ever remain in our memories two of

the most terrible of the whole journey. Just because we had in them

to meet the last dangers of our eventful journey down the Niger,

at least of those dangers for which Nature alone was responsible,

the anxiety they caused seemed almost unbearable.

At first the river was easily navigable enough, but we soon came to

the first rapid. This we crossed successfully, however, the _Davoust_

in one great rush, the _Aube_ after being compelled to anchor just

above it, till Digui returned for her with a reinforcement of rowers.

We anchored at Malali for breakfast, and Digui went to reconnoitre

the rapid below that village. We were just finishing our meal when

some messengers arrived from the chief of Bussa. Yet again we are

to hear from him!

The messengers explained that although a nominal ruler, the chief

had really less influence than any one in his village. He had done

his very utmost to overcome the indifference of those about him to

our wishes, but it had all been in vain. “We were relations!”

he added, and he did not wish us to go away angry with him. To

this I replied that one of our men had been molested and robbed,

and I would not add a syllable to anything which was said until

the objects stolen from him had been restored and the guilty men

punished. The messengers swore that the chief knew nothing about

the outrage, and, after all, this may have been true, for this poor

down-trodden demi-god of a chief had none but venal courtiers about

him, and unless we interfere to save it, Bussa is a prey marked down

for the big teeth of perfidious Albion.

Digui returned wet through; he had tried to shoot the rapid, but

the canoe was swamped, and he had only just time to save himself

by running her into the bank. In fact, it was quite impossible to

reconnoitre here as we had hitherto done. We had to make examining

the river from the banks do. Such was the violence of the current,

so narrow were the passes and so big the waves, that canoes could

only pass the rapids by shooting through little channels quite

impracticable to our barges.

A dreary prospect truly! But one way was open to us, and not even

the natives knew anything about it. We walked along the bank, and

an eager discussion took place at each eddy we came to. Were there

rocks beneath them or were they merely whirlpools? At last, thanks

be to God, we came to the end of them.

We managed, after all, to pass them all in our boats, and they

were indeed enough to terrify any one; but they were really more

alarming than dangerous, for there was plenty of water above most

of the rocks. In one pass, some 54 yards wide, shut in between two

large reefs, a good half of the waters of the Niger flings itself

over with a tremendous roar.

The immense velocity of the current is such that the water dashes up

the banks like the waves of the sea, and there is one paradoxical

thing about it: the level is at least three feet higher near the

banks than in midstream, where a kind of trough is formed.

It is along this trough that we have to steer, and it is really

very dreadful to see the large masses of water piled up on either

side, looking as if they were ready to rush together and engulf us

between them.

Digui made a very sensible speech to his crew.

“Attention,” he cried, “no one is to look out of the boat;

every one must put out all his strength; but I’ll break the head

of the first man who looks beyond the deck.”

Then ensued thirty seconds of mortal agony; there was a kind of

flash like lightning, and the current had seized the barge in its

grip, hugging it tightly. The vessel seemed about to break beneath

the masses of water flung back from the banks to the centre of the

stream, but it was over; we had got safely through the pass.

I estimate the speed of the current at from twelve to fourteen miles,

and if the boat had struck on an unnoticed rock as it rushed along,

we knew that it must have been split open from stem to stern.

On the right of the pass is a group of little islands where the

current is broken up, and its strength lessened. It is amongst them

that canoes are able to get through, turning the quieter water to

account; but, as I said before, the passes there were too narrow

for our boats.

We were soon flung on to a second rapid, less majestic and terrible

in appearance, but perhaps more dangerous than the first. To pass

it safely, we had to steer to the left to begin with, and then bear

to the right as much as possible to avoid the waves driven back

in that direction by a great rock over which the water fell like a

huge moustache; only the utmost care and skill saved the boats from

being flung upon a bank of sharp flints near the left bank. In fact,

it was an even more delicate manœuvre to achieve than to describe!

[Illustration: THE RAPIDS BELOW BUSSA.]

Beyond this rapid the water was boiling and seething as in some

huge caldron; whirlpools and waves met and clashed into each other,

and even between the rapids, in comparatively calm water, there was

such a swell on that the boats were lifted high up and rolled about

as if at sea.

We anchored off Garafiri, whilst above and below us roared the rapids.

The next day, the 8th, we started early and passed without difficulty

the Kandji rapid, which is comparatively easy. We breakfasted

at Konotasi; at least, that is the way the natives seem to me to

pronounce the name marked Kpatachi on maps.

Digui again went to reconnoitre, and came back with the gloomy face

of old difficult days. The trading canoes which had left Bussa during

our stay there had not yet gone, but were about to discharge their

cargoes. They would take a little channel on the right, but it was

too narrow for us. Moreover, there was not yet water enough even

for native boats, and they would have to wait for an inundation. We

must again follow the main stream, and we went along the banks to

look for the pass.

Malali was nothing to what we had now to encounter, for the only

pass was by an opening not as big as that of the sluice of a canal.

“Can we pass, Digui?” we asked.—“Yes, perhaps,” he replied,

“if it is the will of Allah!”

With this assurance we had to be content, and I gave the order

“Forward!”

When my old guide saw us steering towards the left to take the

course impracticable even to native canoes he was terrified. “_Laol

alla! Laol alla!_” he cried, “there is no pass there!” I put

my hand over his mouth to make him hold his tongue, and flinging

himself upon the deck he hid his head in his cloak.

I got my camera ready for taking a photograph, but Digui said to

me. “It is not worth while!”—“Why?” I asked.—“Because you will

not be able to look. You will be afraid!”

Yet Digui had seen me look at places still less attractive than this

pass, which was no pass.

I proved him wrong to some extent, for I did succeed in getting two

photographs of the banks we were passing. I don’t deny, however,

that I felt a slight shudder pass over me, and I hope I am not more

of a coward than any one else would have been under the circumstances.

[Illustration: AMONG THE RAPIDS.]

This time we experienced a peculiar sensation such as we had never

had before; when the boat passed over the whirlpools, everywhere

intersecting each other, it seemed to be alternately sucked in and

flung out again by the masses of water.

One instant of calm, then a second rapid, and we anchored in a little

creek; Digui then went back to fetch the _Aube_ and the _Dantec_,

and we found ourselves all once more safely together.

We had still two more rapids to cross, the first easy, the second

more difficult, on account of a very violent current flowing towards

a channel on the left encumbered with flints.

According to the maps, we should now come to a stretch of calm

water. I hoped to anchor above the Auru pass, which would be the last,

and to attempt its passage the next day.

At Auru the Niger makes a bend to the right of ninety degrees, and the

main channel is so terribly encumbered with rocks and impedimenta of

all kinds, whilst the current is at the same time so fearfully strong,

that it would not do to attempt to go down it in the night. However,

there is an arm which cuts across the bend, and though still very

difficult, makes it possible to shoot the rapid.

All of a sudden, as we were quietly going along, the river in front

of us seemed to turn abruptly to the right.

I began to suspect that there was a mistake on the maps, and that

we were much nearer to Auru than we had thought. Still I hesitated

for a minute. However, there was a little channel on the right with

a hill rising above it on which was perched a village. It _must_

be Auru. Just then the main current, which grew rapidly stronger,

seized us, and we were on the point of being swept down by it and

swamped. “To the bank! To the bank, Digui!” I shouted; “quick,

quick!”—“All right, all right,” was the reply, and he tried

to wring an explanation out of the guide, who could give none. Ten

seconds wasted in discussion, and it would be too late. We _were_

too late; we had passed the practicable channel.

“Anchor! anchor!” I shouted. Yes, the anchors hold, and for the

moment we are saved!

On our starboard the banks consisted of half-submerged flints, from

which grew some small aquatic trees. It was this vegetation which

had misled our guide, for when he was here twenty years before it

did not exist.

We now had to make our way against the current to get back to the good

channel. It was simply impossible to do so by rowing. The only thing

to be done was to lengthen our ropes, and fastening them to trees,

tow ourselves along, so to speak, from place to place. It took us

about three hours and a half to do it.

Somehow or another, however, we did achieve the difficult task of

getting safely into the right course again.

The _Dantec_, which had anchored behind the _Davoust_, had only a

light load now, and I thought it would take less time for her to

cross the river and go up along the left bank, where the current

was less violent.

Unfortunately, however, the manœuvre was not executed as quickly as

it should have been, for the _Dantec_ drifted a good way in making

the crossing, and it was just all she could do to get up-stream again.

We moored the two big boats to trees, and Digui went once more to

reconnoitre. We now had to slip as best we could through the narrow

channels between the rocks, before we attempted the shooting of the

rapid itself.

We should have had time to pass before night, but I would not leave

the _Dantec_ behind, and I sent Digui in his canoe to her with extra

rowers. We remained moored to our trees, and fortunately found near

our stopping-place a little bit of nearly dry ground, where we were

able to light a fire.

At first we could see the _Dantec_ slowly making her way up-stream,

then she became hidden by trees. Two whole hours of suspense passed

by, and it was now quite dark. We shouted as loud as we could to make

ourselves heard above the noise of the rapids, but no answer came

for a long time. All of a sudden we heard Digui’s voice crying:

“We are swamped!” A momentary lull in the roar of the water had

enabled us to hear these far from reassuring words, but the rest died

away in the darkness of the night. Was our barge then at the bottom

of the river? What had become of our coolies? Were they drowned or

clinging to some bushes on the bank? There was no way of helping

them, for Digui had taken the canoe. It was a cruel moment for us

all, and our anxiety was redoubled when we presently saw the canoe

coming back with only three men in her.

But after all every one was safe and the barge uninjured. As she

was going up-stream the _Dantec_ had got her mast caught in a tree,

and had been tilted over so that she filled with water; in fact was,

as Digui had cried, swamped for the moment. Fortunately, however,

some roots kept her up, and our coolies had managed to get rid of

the water and float her again. She was not able to join us yet,

but she was moored to some trees quite close to us.

That night was anything but pleasant to any of us. We were wet

through, and anxiety about the morrow kept us awake. After a time the

perpetual noise of the water surging about the rocks and round the

trunks of the trees produces a peculiar effect on the mind, an effect

alike strange and depressing, for one fancies one hears the moaning of

the spirits of the water, which the natives believe haunt the river.

Our guide told us that the Auru rapids are inhabited by demons,

whose voices are heard at night. They are said to have a passion for

everything of a red colour, so that those who navigate the river

have to hide anything of that hue, lest the demons should swamp

their boats for the sake of getting possession of it.

I never saw the devils of Auru, but I can honestly say that I heard

them; in fact, that we all heard them. All through the night one

or the other of us was constantly being woke up by peculiar noises,

amongst which we certainly fancied we could distinguish voices.

In this frame of mind, and unable as we were to communicate with the

_Dantec_, we kept thinking that some misfortune had befallen her,

and that the strange voices were those of our coolies clinging

perhaps to trees as they called for help, or consulting together

what they could do to save themselves.

But day dawned at last, and we succeeded in towing back the _Dantec_,

on which we found our men all well, though very cold and weary. We

now held a consultation and decided that the _Davoust_ should pass

first and anchor opposite the point of the island between the two

arms of the river. Digui and some coolies would then go back from

there to help in bringing down the _Aube_ and the _Dantec_.

We threaded our way carefully amongst the rocks to keep in the right

channel, and then the _Dantec_ simply fell into the rapids. There

was less swell with fewer waves than there had been at Garafiri or

at Konotasi, but I think there was also less depth of water. On the

right and the left were countless rocks over which the river dashed

foaming and seething. We found it impossible to anchor as we had

intended off the end of the island, for the current swept us into

the village of lower Auru on the right bank.

I therefore sent Digui back by land with some of the men. We waited

for two hours without hearing anything. At last we saw one of the

coolies running back to us, and he brought the bad news that in

trying to cross the small arm of the river to take the second master

pilot on board, the canoe had capsized, and the _Aube_ had now no

means of communicating with the land. Baudry had sent to ask me to

try and get a boat from the village. I went there, and with the aid

of our guide Amadu I made my request. Very great unwillingness to

grant it was at first shown, followed by a formal refusal on the

ground that the villagers had been forbidden to help us. Who had

forbidden it? I could not find out. I drew forth my revolver and held

it to the chief’s forehead. It was the first and last time I ever

had recourse to such an argument as this, but it had the desired

effect. A canoe was sent off from the village with two rowers,

and I went along the bank to the place where the _Aube_ was anchored.

When I got there, I found that the canoe was righted again. Our

coolies had plunged into the very rapid itself, and clinging

to submerged roots they had succeeded in passing ropes under her

keel and floating her. The water where she had gone down was more

than nine feet deep. Brave fellows, indeed, were these coolies of

mine! They may have their faults; they are gluttons and liars; they

are often lazy enough; but on any dangerous emergency these scions of

the noble Sarracolais race rise to the occasion, and their devotion

may be depended upon under whatever strain.

Baudry now informed me that the rudder of the _Dantec_ was broken,

so that it was impossible to steer her. “Take the crew off and

abandon her? No! I hope to take her on by towing her!”

I watched everything made ready for the difficult manœuvre. The

_Dantec_ was towed along from tree to tree, to the very edge of

the big rapid, whilst behind her came the canoe with a rope passed

twice round a trunk, as her bow plunged into the foam. On the stern

of the _Aube_ stood Samba Demba, our best coolie, with a coiled rope

in his arms, ready to fling it to the _Dantec_ as she went over the

rapid. One second’s hesitation, and everything would go wrong, and

I was on the very point of shouting to Baudry to give up his plan,

but it was really such a splendid piece of daring, such a thoroughly

sailor-like thing to do, that I refrained. Yet once more, thank God,

we succeeded, coming off with flying colours.

Slowly the _Aube_ loosened her moorings, and the current at first

took her gently down, then quicker and ever quicker she rushed along

as she crossed the _Dantec_. Bravo! the rope, flung with unerring

aim, fell right into her bow. “Let go all!” and the _Aube_ and

_Dantec_ plunged into the rapid. Will they be able to shoot it in

safety? The shouts of the excited coolies reach me above the roar

of the water. The doctor and Bluzet have each taken an oar. For a

moment I thought all the boats would be flung against the rocks on

the left, which would have been their complete destruction; but the

next I saw them gradually bearing to the right. At last they were

through, all danger past!

The _Aube_, swept on by the current, could not stop near the

_Davoust_, and there was yet another rapid, quite a small one,

below the village. She passed it without difficulty, and went to

anchor some hundred yards down-stream, where we hastened to join her.

We had done with the rapids now, and not one of us was missing,

not one of our boats had been lost. We clasped each other’s hands

without a word.

But our excitement gradually subsided, and we shouted, “Filey,

get us some breakfast; and mind you do your best!”

We started again about two o’clock, and half-an-hour later we

were opposite Leba, where floats the white flag of the Royal Niger

Company, with its ship and the circle cut across by three rays,

bearing the motto, _Pax, Jus, Ars_. Here we had to meet our last

danger. What would the English do? I awaited them with composure,

for it is we who have the whip hand now, and to begin by showing

them that I was not going to submit to a compulsory halt, we passed

on without stopping at Leba. There was a good deal of bustle at the

station, however, and eleven riflemen came out and took up their

position on the bank. Certainly there was effective occupation here,

not a doubt of it; only every one will admit that no such effective

occupation has taken place higher up-stream. My difficulties at

Bussa may perhaps be renewed here, indeed increased. Lower Auru is

about a mile and three-quarters from Leba. Either the English rule

here or they do not; in the former case, it was they who had told

the natives not to give us any help when two of our boats were in

the greatest danger. In the second case, this effective occupation

is very precarious and limited at the only point where there are any

troops, and for the very best of reasons it does not extend to Bussa,

which, from the European point of view, remains _rex nullius_.

A tornado compelled us to anchor about four o’clock near the left

bank, and we kept as strict a watch as we had done in the Tuareg

country. We took care to be on our guard against _a blow from the

Tatanis_, such as had succeeded so well in the case of Mizon.

For the sake of those who have forgotten that incident I will add

here that Mizon was attacked at the mouth of the Niger by Patanis,

when he was entering it in his vessel, the _René Caillé_. When he

complained, the Niger Company replied: “We were not aware that you

were there.” Those very Patanis, his enemies of the day before,

brought him wood for burning, by order of the English agent.

At about eight o’clock on October 10 we passed Badjibo, or rather

Guadjibo, where Captain Toutée had built Fort Arenberg. After he

had evacuated it the English took possession of it, finding it in

perfect repair. There is no doubt that as the Company already had a

station at Leba, above Guadjibo, the French occupation of the latter

place was open to discussion.

I once started a conversation in a meeting at the Sorbonne, which

at one moment seemed likely to become acrimonious, for I quoted a

remark of Baron d’Haussy, Naval Minister in the time of Charles X.,

as a base of the policy to be followed in dealing with the English. It

is well known that in a talk with the English ambassador, d’Haussy,

irritated at the off-hand manner of the latter, said: “If you want a

diplomatic answer, the President of the Council will give it to you;

as for me, I say, setting aside official language, that _nous nous

f . . . de vous_.”[11]

The remark was certainly not couched in diplomatic terms, but it

represented the only way to treat the English. When, however, we

act upon the principle applied we must take every care to be well

within our rights. If, through any imprudence at the beginning,

you lay yourself open to have to withdraw a single step later,

your rivals know how to turn it to account by making you go back ten.

The village of Guadjibo is situated on the left bank. Fort

Arenberg, the name of which the Royal Niger Company has changed

into Taubman-Goldie, is opposite to it on the right bank. A guard

of riflemen came to do us the honours of the pass, and then a few

minutes later two canoes put off from the bank to follow us, but we

gained rapidly upon them.

Without having stopped at either of the first two English posts

we reached Geba, having thus asserted our right to navigate the

river without any compulsory halt or any interference on the part

of the Company.

As Geba is approached the scenery becomes more and more

picturesque. Peaks hundreds of feet high dominate the almost

precipitous verdure-clad hills, the bases of which are bathed by

the river.

At last at four o’clock, suddenly rounding a headland, and steering

from west to east, we found ourselves opposite a group of magnificent

jagged rocks, whilst further on we could see the corrugated roofs

and the piles of casks on the bank with the flag of the Royal Niger

Company, belonging to the English station.

[Illustration: GEBA.]

At Geba, as at Auru, the Niger is haunted by evil spirits, who are

fond of red, so instead of advising us to follow the deep but narrow

main channel between the lofty rocks, our guide wanted us to pass

the rapid where the _Morning Star_, the boat of Richard Lander,

the first explorer who had passed Bussa, had been wrecked.

To the great disappointment of our adviser, however, we insisted

upon going between two large pillars of rock where there was no

danger whatever. The rocks hid all the red on board our boats,

except that in our flag.

Our boats came up one after the other, and anchored off the bank

near the station of Geba.

A negro of Sierra Leone, a commercial agent, now came and placed

himself at our disposal, pending the arrival of the Governor of the

station, who, he informed us, had gone inland, and would not be back

till near nightfall. Naturally I refused all offers of help until the

Governor should return. An hour later we saw two canoes being paddled

down-stream, and recognized them as those which had followed us since

we left Guadjibo. In them were the Governor of the station, Captain

Carrol, and some English soldiers in the service of the Company.

Having heard at Lakodja, the Governor told us, of our approaching

arrival at Bussa, he had started at once with a strong escort,

and by forced marches had gone up the banks of the river, knocking

up two horses and getting fever, all for the sake of helping us

in the name of the Company, and he had come back after all with an

empty bag! At Leba he had heard of our passage, and had gone back,

covering some seventy miles in twenty-four hours, to Fort Goldie,

where he had waited for us to breakfast with him. Not having seen

any whites there, however, he concluded we had passed, so that by

chance, and chance is responsible for a good many things, it was I,

who had come down from Timbuktu to his station, who welcomed him at

his own post with the words, “How do you do?”

This was really one of the most amusing incidents of our journey. To

a cynical observer the episode would have appeared truly unique.

The situation, amusing as it was, was however just a little

strained. I confess too that with the memory fresh in my mind of

all the difficulties I had had at Bussa and at Ilo, and which might

easily have led to the loss of our boats, I did nothing to relieve

the tension between us.

“Before I talk about anything else,” I said to Carrol, “I

must tell you what happened at Bussa and at Auru, a few miles from

your post at Leba. I will not accept the offers of service from the

Company, nor from its agents, nor from its officers, until I know

that you had nothing to do with those difficulties.”

Quite upset by what I said, he gave me his word, the word of

a soldier, that he knew absolutely nothing about them. The same

assurance was given to me later by Major Festing, military Commandant,

and by the civilians Messrs. Drew and Wallace.

The ice was now broken, and we were able _inter pocula_ to allow

ourselves the pleasure of chatting about European affairs with the

Governor. He was the first European we had seen for a year. Ah,

if only he had been a Frenchman!

Carrol was an Irishman, who spoke French well, and he lent us

some English and French newspapers. He told us—without any

details however—of the death of Mores, and of the massacre of a

French expedition in the west on the Nikki side. We at once compared

dates. This expedition consisted perhaps of our comrades sent to bring

us the famous orders we had waited for at Say for five months. On

hearing this sad news, I became eager to hasten our march to tell the

people at Dahomey of the disturbed condition of the districts round

Say. Later, Taburet was able to ascertain by carefully reading the

English newspapers, that the expedition referred to was that led

by Fonssagrives.

Captain Carrol, who was really a very good fellow and a capital

companion, put everything he possessed at our disposal, and that meant

a very great deal to us, though really he did not own much, for though

the Royal Niger Company houses its officers well, it treats them

shabbily, and makes them pay dearly for the few comforts they have.

We responded to Carrol’s hospitality by inviting him to dinner

the next evening. Fortunately the chief of Ilo had not drunk all our

champagne. We had plenty too of the wine we had brought as part of

our rations, which in the course of all its travels had become very

good claret, and with some mutton, for which of course we paid very

dearly on principle, we managed to give our guests a very respectable

meal. The English officers were a good deal surprised at finding us

so well supplied with everything.

We were taking our coffee after dinner when we heard the whistle of

one of the Company’s steamers. They were expecting the _Sudan_,

I was told, an old cargo-boat which was to take Mr. Drew, executive

officer of the district of Geba, to Lakodja. It turned out, however,

not to have been the _Sudan’s_ whistle, but that of a mere launch

called the _Bargu_, which had disturbed us.

Carrol sent word to Major Festing, who was on board, by a canoe, and a

few minutes afterwards the military Commandant appeared in immaculate

linen clothes, the evening dress of the colonies. We drank a glass

of champagne together, the officer, who seemed very worried, tossing

it off rapidly. As Carrol had done, he declared he had had nothing

whatever to do with the Bussa affair, and I readily believed him. I

still, however, felt some distrust of the agents of the Company,

and I thought it my duty to decline the offer of Major Festing to tow

our boats with his _Bargu_ as far as Lokodja. I thought I had better

first have an explanation with the agents of the Company properly so

called. I was told that Mr. Wallace, the general agent, was expected

soon, and as he was on his way up the river, we were sure to meet him.

Still this did not prevent our fraternizing with Carrol and Festing;

they spoke French, and we could jabber English after a fashion,

though Taburet was the only one who knew it pretty well. In the

morning two other officers arrived, one to replace, at Leba, a

lieutenant who had lately died, and the other on his way to Geba or

Guadjibo. Both had recently been wounded with poisoned arrows in

a fight with the natives. The officers of the Royal Niger Company

evidently have rather a rough time of it.

Taburet went to see the sick at the station, where there were neither

medicine nor other remedies to be had. Just as we were leaving we saw

some negroes approaching, loaded with a supply of beer and whisky for

us. This delicate attention from Festing and Carrol was the better

appreciated as we had been entirely deprived of these luxuries ever

since we had left Kayes.

As a return gift we left the little organ at Geba, which had been

our great joy at Say. It now belongs to Carrol’s successor, for we

hear that the good Captain has returned safe and sound to his native

country, rescued at last from the hands of the Royal Niger Company.

At about one o’clock in the afternoon of the 12th we left Geba,

exchanging salutes with our flags with the station. Our old guide

Amadu remained there, but Major Festing lent us a man in the service

of the Company, who was, however, quite useless to us, as navigation

here, difficult enough for large vessels, was perfectly easy for us

now the water was so high. We had but to let ourselves go, and we

went fast enough.

We reached Rabba, which seemed an unimportant factory, about five

o’clock. This is the nearest point to Bidda, the capital of Nupé,

which we knew to be at open war with the Company.

There are no whites at the factory of Rabba, and we did not have

any dealings with the Sierra Leonese who is in charge of it.

We had been anchored for an hour, when the steam launch _Bargu_, with

Major Festing on board, joined us. These launches, of which it is a

pity there are not more on the Niger, are little steamers armed with

a machine-gun. They carry an officer and some ten riflemen, who act

as the river police only, and have nothing to do with transporting

merchandise. Their office is by no means a sinecure.

[Illustration: RABBA.]

The voyage began to tell very much on our men now. It was not only

that they were very tired, but the rain was continuous all night,

and sometimes also in the day, so that we had to put up the tents

on the decks. These tents, moreover, were no longer water-tight,

and the sleeping-place in the damp boats was very small.

Our negroes generally managed to stow themselves away under shelter

somehow, often one on top of the other, but I should have liked better

weather for this last bit of the journey, so that they might have been

able to get over all they had gone through at Bussa. They made up for

their discomfort at night by getting up late in the morning. All this,

however, did not prevent us from making good headway without any over

pressure, borne on as we were by the strong current. On the 13th

we covered forty-five miles, going on until eight in the evening,

just in time to anchor before we were overtaken by a tornado, and

an awful one too. Fortunately we found shelter in a little gulf,

and escaped with a good ducking.

[Illustration: IGGA.]

On the 14th, judging by the rate at which we went, the current must

have been yet stronger. We made some fifty miles, passed the night

near Igga, and arrived there at eight o’clock in the morning on

the 15th.

The country between Geba and Igga is uninteresting; no villages,

or scarcely any, were passed, and there was no cultivation. The

appearance of the banks is much what it is between Say and Bussa; a

few _karités_ occur here and there, that is all. We met a canoe now

and then only. The oil-palms, which had begun to appear beyond Say,

now became more numerous, but the country still appeared deserted.

In a large plain near Igga there is a factory kept by a white

man. Just before we reached it we saw a big boat called the

_Nigritian_, which was formerly the pontoon of Yola. The Royal Niger

Company had just been driven from the Benuë and from the Adamawa;

its trading agents had been recalled, together with the pontoon

they had been _authorized_ to use on the river. This must have been

a very severe blow to the Company, for much of the ivory exported

through their agents came from Adamawa and Muri.

The _Ribago_, a pretty little craft of from six to seven hundred

tons, is moored at Igga. She is the best boat belonging to the

Company. She brings down palm-oil in the nut before it is extracted,

_karités_ and other articles for export. The oil is of a very fine

quality indeed. It will probably be the _Ribago_ which will tow us

down-stream if all is satisfactorily settled with the Company about

Bussa and Auru.

The agent at Igga thought we should find Mr. Wallace at Lokodja. I

was very anxious to see him, for it is with him I must get the

misunderstanding, if misunderstanding there were, explained. His

word alone would suffice to exonerate the Company from blame, and

only if he could give me that word, should I care to accept his good

offices on my behalf.

After passing an hour at our anchorage at Igga, we started for

Lokodja to look for Mr. Wallace, whom it was very difficult to

catch. Fortunately for us, the current was still very strong, but

navigation was very tiring, for with the banks inundated as they were,

it was difficult to find the bottom amongst the tall grass. Late in

the evening we at last anchored near the left bank, and landed to

cook a hasty meal. Fili, one of the coolies who looked after the

kitchen department, had cleared a corner of bushes and lit a fire

when, all of a sudden, the men made a rush for the boats screaming

_manians! manians!_ They had been attacked by the black ants they

call manians, the bite of which is very severe. No cooking for us

to-night, no meal however simple! No sleep either for our poor men,

for the rain began to pour down again. Worse still, the terrible

manians began to climb on board by the anchor-chains, by the ropes

of the grappling-hooks, by everything, in fact, which held us to the

bank. They had come to storm the barges, and the ropes and chains

became black with their swarms. The only way we were able to check

this novel kind of invasion was by lowering the chains and ropes

into the water.

This horribly comfortless night over, we started again with almost

empty stomachs. The scenery was very picturesque, but although the

water was high we felt the boats grate on the rocks lining the bed

of the stream. Navigation must be generally far from easy here.

The vegetation now became denser, and the oil-palm of much more

frequent occurrence. There were, however, few villages, and they

became further apart, on the banks at least, as we advanced. At

last in the evening our pilot told us we were approaching

Lokodja. Picturesque hills, from about six hundred to a thousand

feet high, lined the right bank, whilst on the left we could see the

mouth of the Benuë, now greatly increased in width by inundations.

About six o’clock we came in sight of the huts of the village,

rising in tiers from the slopes of a hill, their zinc roofs shining

amongst the verdure in the glow of the setting sun. We were at

Lokodja, and as it was nearly night we anchored off the bank.

Here we found Mr. Drew, the executive officer of the Company for

the Lokodja-Geba district, for whom we had waited in vain at Geba,

and also another officer who spoke French.

We were received with all due etiquette and invited to dinner. We

talked about the river; and Mr. Drew, who did not allow himself to

show any surprise at our having passed safely down it, must really

have been astonished. He told us he had himself achieved the arduous

task of going over the rapids in a light canoe accompanied by one

man only. He had intended to go down to Bussa by the channel used

by the natives. He had even been capsized, and dragged down into

the whirlpool. He owed his life entirely to his canoe-man, who had

plunged after him and brought him up from the bottom. He still had

the scar of a wound he had got from the sharp flints, amongst which

he had been rolled over and over.

Major Festing, who came in to dessert, invited us to go to him

the next day. We cut but sorry figures beside our hosts in their

unimpeachable costumes, for our clothes were torn by our struggles in

the bush, our gold lace was tarnished, our breeches were patched,

our boots had been bought in the country, and our helmets were

terribly battered about.

I do not know which agent of the Company it was who refused to

receive the leader of a French expedition because of his disreputable

appearance, with untrimmed beard and clothes in rags. Times are

greatly changed since then, or rather perhaps the instructions given

have been modified.

The next day we had breakfast with Major Festing, and were most

cordially received. Our host was then Commander-in-chief of the troops

in the service of the Niger Company. Lokodja was his headquarters, and

his soldiers, who were Haussas, were well lodged. Their cantonments

are charming, and the Major’s house had every English comfort that

could possibly be expected. Big airy rooms adorned with weapons,

looking-glasses and hunting pictures, etc., native mats on the

ground, flowers growing in the copper pots manufactured in the

country. Everything very simple and suitable. Music was going on

whilst we were at breakfast, as if we were on board an admiral’s

flag-ship or at the Grand Hotel in Paris. Children played to us on

the flute, regaling us with the familiar airs of the _café-concerts_

of France. We had printed _menus_, dainty salt-cellars, caviare,

whisky-and-soda, good stout, etc. Oh, what a delight it was to eat a

well-served meal on a table-cloth decked with fresh flowers! If only

we had had a few ladies in light summer costumes to share it with us,

it would indeed have been complete.

Major Festing most courteously placed at our disposal as interpreter,

a Haussa sergeant of his from the Senegal, who had been at one

time in the service of Mizon, and also of De Brazza. He spoke a

little French, and had been one of the last to leave the station

of Yola. He told us of all his strange wanderings to and fro, and

piloted us about the town when we went to make our purchases, for we

did make some purchases at Lokodja. To begin with, we supplemented

our stores of provisions, which was very necessary, if we wished

suitably to return the hospitality we received. We had, moreover,

very little of the dinner service left which we had brought from

France three years before. We had, it will be remembered, sent to

the bottom of the river everything not absolutely indispensable,

and we wanted some claret and champagne-glasses badly.

The natives of Lokodja were very civilized, using table napkins,

basins, dishes with covers, china flower-pots, etc., sold to them by

the Company, or rather bartered for native productions, for there is

no money currency in the Niger districts. The wages of the troops,

labour, and raw material are all paid for in merchandise, such as

salt, stuffs or ware of different kinds. The Company seem to make

considerable profit on these transactions. As for us, we were rich

enough to be generous. Suleyman, our interpreter, received orders to

buy everything offered at the price asked, for we should only have

to throw the things which were too heavy to take on, into the water

later. So we gave silk drawers for a dozen eggs, and long strings

of pearls, false ones of course, for three bananas.

The generosity of Commandant Mattei, agent of the old French Niger

Company, whom we so clumsily allowed an English Company to supplant,

has become proverbial, and the natives often quote it apropos of

the stinginess of the Niger Company. I am very sure that our stay

at Lokodja did nothing to lessen the fame of French liberality. The

natives of the banks of the Niger still bemoan the loss of French

traders and the hauling down of the French flag.

Lokodja, which we were able to visit, is a fairly large village, very

picturesquely situated on a mountain. It is cut across by ravines

and shaded by banana and papaw-trees, with numerous oil-palms. There

is a splendid view of the meeting of the Benuë and the Niger. The

remains of the steam-boat _Sokkoto_, which was wrecked on a rock, are

still to be seen, and further down the river are other stranded boats.

We were told that Lokodja is the principal town of an extensive

district numbering from twenty to thirty thousand inhabitants. The

town properly so called, however, does not contain more than from

four to five thousand at the very most. The market, which is very

extensive, is much frequented, and is held in the afternoon. All

manner of European articles are offered for sale in it. The only

native industries are the beating of copper and the manufacture of

rather peculiar drawers made of two pieces of stuff sewn together

and adorned with a kind of open work. The blacksmiths, who are very

skilful in a kind of _repoussé_ work done with a pointed instrument

on copper, make vases, cups, and ewers of it, which are really very

original in design.

Most curious of all the specialities of Lokodja, however, are the

games and the _tam-tams_ held there. In the former, the performers are

all young graceful girls who are perfectly nude. I have visited many

towns of low morality. I know Naples, Port Saïd, and Colombo. I have

seen the so-called flower-boats of China and the Japanese _yoshivaras_

in that Orient where everything is possible, but never did I witness

anything to be compared with what goes on at Lokodja.

The chief of the village is the well-known Abegga, and the name

calls up for us French all manner of memories. Abegga is really

almost a relation of mine, for he is a freed man who was bought at

Sokoto, and given his liberty by my Uncle Barth. Abegga followed his

master to England first and then to Germany. Back again in Africa,

he entered the service of Commandant Mattei as interpreter, and

to-day he is king of Lokodja. Such are the chances of life!

We were received by him with effusion, for we awoke all his old

memories. Taburet, who from his translations from Barth’s book

knew more about Abegga than Abegga did himself, had a long talk

with him in English. In the end we sent our royal friend, Baudry’s

hunting-piece as a present, by the hands of his envoy.

We expected every minute to hear of the arrival of Mr. Wallace,

but he did not come. I could not remain at Lokodja for ever, so I

took Mr. Drew’s word for it that

neither he nor the Company had had anything to do with our

difficulties at Bussa and Auru, accepting the offer made to me with

so much urgency that we should be towed down-stream by the _Ribago_,

the steamboat we had met at Igga, and which had now come down again

to Lokodja.

[Illustration: MOUNT RENNEL ABOVE LOKODJA.]

We were to start at two o’clock. After we had made our farewell

visits I went to Mr. Drew and said, “I have decided to accept

your offer of having us towed down-stream.” Then I added rather

awkwardly, “How much?”

“Five pounds for each white man, and one for each black, was

the reply.

A good price truly just for towing us down-stream! It would come to

1450 francs altogether! I merely, however, said “Oh!” just to

relieve my feelings.

Now was not this rather sharp practice on the part of the

Company? After pressing me so much to accept a service, I had imagined

that it was offered gratuitously as between one friendly government

and another, and what had annoyed me was the thought of being under

an obligation to the Royal Niger Company. But I was quite wrong;

I was dealing with the traders of the Company only, and that put me

at my ease.

They may have thought that having come so far I should not have

money enough left to pay them, and that I should have to leave in

their debt, but I simply said to Mr. Drew—

“All right; I will come back and settle with you in a minute.”

A few moments later I arrived with my bag of crown-pieces. I had not,

however, brought enough after all, for by some misunderstanding,

no doubt, we really had to pay six pounds for each white man, and

twenty-five shillings for each black, which mounted the sum-total

up to 1800 francs. However, I was able to make up the difference at

once all but two sous, I think, and those I sent by Digui.

No doubt Carrol foresaw all these mercenary dealings when we were

at Geba, when he made such a fuss about paying Taburet for his

attendance on the people who were ill at the station, and wanted to

give me money for the miserable little musical-box which I had been

so glad to leave with him as a token of my gratitude.

The Royal Niger Company had in fact treated our expedition as a party

of traders, and I preferred that both for myself and for France. I

do not therefore owe the members of that Company any more gratitude

than I should the conductor of an omnibus in Paris when I have paid

him my six sous.

The loading of the _Ribago_ went on slowly, but at five o’clock

we started; the pipers of Major Festing came down to the quay and

played the _Marseillaise_, whilst the guns of the station fired a

salute as, towed by the _Ribago_, we left for Assaba.

Now for a couple of words about the Royal Niger Company. I will say

nothing of the treaties or of the constitutive acts which preceded

its formation, for I have not got to draw up an indictment against

it. I will confine myself to quoting what Naval Lieutenant Agoult

said on the subject—“The Company is but the screen behind which

England hides herself.”

To the great detriment of the shareholders, the Company tries to

create an Empire, and in view of its acquisitions of territory, to

make head against the revolts caused by its rapacity, it is obliged

to maintain an army relatively large.

This necessity causes a mischievous friction between the military and

civilian officers in the service of the Queen, they and the trading

agents sometimes carrying their animosity to each other so far as

to come to blows.

Then again the officers are anything but well treated by the

Company. Like the agents, they are taxed and taxed again. Heaven only

knows what an arduous profession theirs is. Carrol was always on the

road, and Festing, when we saw him, was suffering horribly from a

liver complaint. He had just returned from a twenty days’ campaign

against the villages in the bush on the left bank, and he was so tired

he could not remain in the saddle. We were told of several officers

having recently been killed by poisoned arrows, and of one who had

died from eating poison in a village on the banks of the river.

Moreover, this armed force and all the courage and devotion of those

who command it, fail to secure peace. Whilst we were on our voyage,

the horsemen of Bidda had come down to pillage as far as the bank

opposite Lokodja. It is only in the immediate neighbourhood of

the stations that things are quiet. The steam-launches have to be

constantly going up and down the arms of the river, especially in

the delta, to keep the natives in awe with their riflemen and their

machine-guns. It is rare for a boat to go down the river without

being fired at. At Abo, lower down-stream, the people were astonished

that we had been able to come so far without any fighting. It may

have been the effect of the flag we carried, for the tricolour flag

is still beloved and regretted in these parts for the sake of the

memory of Commandant Mattei.

The Company does not hold the country beyond the banks of the

river. Then, again, there are no means of communication between one

place and another. Truly we French may be proud of our work in the

French Sudan. We have done better than the English on the Upper

Niger; our colonization is far superior to theirs. On the Lower

Niger they have neither telegraph wires, for these go no further

than Akassa and Brass, at the mouth of the river, no road at all

to be compared with our line of revictualling posts, and of course,

need we add? they have no railway!

It seems to me a fact that of all the Niger districts, the richest

and the most favoured by Nature from every point of view are those

we occupy in the French Sudan.

Assaba is the residence of the Agent-general of the Company, and

there is a hospital there for the use of the employés. When the

French mission of the _Pères du Saint Esprit_ left Lokodja it

established itself at Assaba.

A missionary was waiting for us when we landed, and I went at once to

his house. The situation is beautiful enough, but what a hard life the

Fathers lead! They are, I believe, rather harassed by the Company,

as much because they are French as because they are Catholic, and

as a result their tale of converts is not very long. Some Sisters

of Charity work in connection with them, and make their way on foot

from village to village in the interior, marching at night to avoid

the heat of the sun, and visiting the Christian natives far away

from the river.

A few hours’ walk off, the Fathers told us, are some big, very

big, villages, into which alone they are able to penetrate, not

without considerable danger to life sometimes. Terrible scenes of

human sacrifice and cannibalism have been witnessed by the devoted

Sisters. Such atrocities would never be tolerated in the French Sudan.

But what does all that matter to the Company as long as it can buy

its palm-oil at the market-price, a price fixed by force?

That evening we had to dine with us the only Father of the mission

just then at Assaba, and two Sisters, one the Superior, Sister Damien,

a pale-faced Italian, whose hands had become almost transparent, and

whose features were wasted through successive attacks of fever. For

all that she still eagerly pursued her vocation. I know nothing

finer than the life led by these women at the extreme advance guard

of civilization, exposed to the heat of the sun, to fever, to all

manner of fatigue, to the indifference of the negroes, and sometimes,

as if all that were not enough, to the malice of the whites.

I imagine that it was long since the Father and the Sisters had

enjoyed themselves so much. Unfortunately a tornado burst upon us in

the middle of dinner, and at eight o’clock we had to take refuge in

Father Hacquart’s rooms, through the cracks in the roof of which,

however, the rain poured in torrents.

We escorted our guests back to the mission house through the rain.

That same night the long-expected Mr. Wallace, Agent-general of

the Company, arrived on the launch _Nupé_. I went to call on him

the next day. After congratulating me on our successful journey,

he renewed the assurances already made to me by Carrol, Festing, and

Drew. I heard later that Mr. Flint, another important member of the

Company, was also on board the _Nupé_. But he preferred to avoid us.

When we left we were able to rejoice the hearts of the missionaries of

Assaba, with a few bales of stuffs and knick-knacks, with which they

could reward their faithful natives. We wanted to stop at Onitcha,

the cross of the mission of which we could already see, to give a

greeting to the _Pères de Lyon_ stationed there, but the captain of

the _Ribago_ told us he had been ordered not to go there, although

Mr. Wallace had assured me to the contrary only a minute before.

Avoiding Onitcha, therefore, we went to anchor for a few moments,

first at Illuchi, and then at Abo, where the _Ribago_ was to leave us.

The Company, however, was determined to escort us to the very

threshold of their territories. Those who know what it is to be

suspected, will involuntarily compare this conduct to the way in

which, in certain shops, customers are escorted to the door lest

they should steal anything on their way out.

No doubt, without being exactly sharpers, we might have got a lot

of information, and have made observations on many things if we had

remained longer on the river. Would that have been altogether to the

advantage of the Company? D’Agoult says he saw the steamer laden

with spirits going by, yet all the time, according to the Company, all

its subjects, white or black, would, under its beneficial influence,

become teetotalers or total abstainers.

It was politic too, perhaps, to hide from us the troubled state of

the district all along the river, and the precarious position of the

Company. Do its members know, I wonder, how happy these discontented

regions once were under the French Company, and all that would result

from the mere presence once again of the French flag?

As for me, however, I prefer to think simply that this obsequiousness

of the Company towards us, this insistence on our accepting the offer

of being towed down-stream, and paying for the service rendered, this

eagerness to see us off, had but one aim, and that aim a humane one.

We were escorted to Wari to save us from another attack from the

Patanis. Our departure was hastened because we were tired, worn out,

eager to taste once more the joys of home and family life. All

serious thinkers, whose opinion is of any weight, and who know

anything about English ways, will agree with me, irony or no irony!

We dined at Abo, and when night had fallen, a launch arrived

at our anchorage, which was to take charge of us. On board was a

bright, jovial young officer, Lieutenant Aron by name, of Australian

birth. Judging from what we saw of him, Australia must be to England

what the south of France is to the French. Did he not tell us one

day that the Company had a post at Kano, another at Kuka, and twelve

big steamers on the river? But for these venial exaggerations he

was a charming companion, what the English call a very good fellow,

who made the hours we were in his company pass very pleasantly. We

shall all, Lieutenant Aron included, long remember the dinner we had

together on the _Kano_, as the Ganagana pontoon is called, whilst

a tornado was raging, and he sung at the top of his voice all the

comic songs in the Anglo-Franco repertory, to the accompaniment

of the flute and the harmonium, whilst quaffing the whisky and the

claret we still had left.

As is well known, the Niger flings itself into the sea in an immense

number of branches. Two of these branches, viz. that of Brass and of

Forcados, are more practicable for navigation than any others. The

first belongs to the Royal Niger Company, the second to the Niger

Protectorate, a regular colony governed directly from England, and I

was told that the competition in trade between the two was very keen.

I had long intended to go down to the sea, not by the Brass, but by

the Forcados branch, which would enable me to get away from the Royal

Niger Company sooner, and pass a few days in the English districts

on the coast belonging to the Niger Protectorate.

I preferred to embark there than in a port belonging to the

Company. The two Companies are, as already stated, more or less

rivals, and those on the French despatch boat _Ardent_ had cause to

speak in terms of high praise of the way in which they were treated

by the English of the Protectorate.

Lieutenant Aron accompanied us on the Forcados branch as far as

Wari, where resides an English vice-consul. We were breakfasting on

board the launch when we came in sight of the houses of Wari. Our

three barges were roped together, and their three tricolour flags

flying. The launch, however, could not hoist the British flag,

its gear having somehow got damaged.

The _Dantec_ now brought us up to the stockade, where we awaited the

arrival of the officers of the Protectorate. Then between ourselves

and our guide began an animated and certainly very curious colloquy;

astonishment on one side, vehement explanations on the other. What

changes in the expressions of the faces of those engaged in the

conversation! What shouts of laughter! What were they saying? This

is what I thought I made out. Seeing our three barges each flying a

tricolour flag, and the launch with no colours at all, the English

of the Protectorate had thought we had retaliated on the Company

by a skilful manœuvre for the bad turn they had done the French

the year before. “The Company,” they said, “had intended to

confiscate our barges, but they being well manned and well armed,

had instead captured the launch and taken her down under the French

flag to Wari.”

No, I cannot have understood the conversation, I must have dreamed it

all! The English never could have believed us capable of such a thing,

and would never have suggested it, even in their own language. And

yet—!

Who was it told me that the Protectorate and the Company were enemies

at heart, and that the English of Wari are always brooding on the

damages paid to the Niger traders on account of a certain attack on

the people of Brass from Akassa?

No doubt all these are merely such calumnies as are always

circulating.

We shall, all five of us, always remember the welcome we received

at Wari from the agents of the Protectorate, and this memory will be

the more cherished because a few days after our return to France we

heard the terrible news of the death of several of them, who, having

gone on a mission to the interior almost unarmed, were massacred by

the natives of Benin.

We had the best of receptions at Wari; the officers even gave up

their rooms and their very beds to us, knowing how greatly we should

appreciate such comforts. We became much attached to our new friends.

At Wari I got rid of all the rest of my stores, which would have

been an encumbrance to me on my return journey. There were plenty

for the missionaries and for the servants at the Consulate. Suzanne,

our bicycle, rejoiced the heart of a Sierra Leonese; the _Dantec_,

with a few bottles of claret, delighted Lieutenant Aron; even the

_Aube_ we left as a token of our friendship with the agents at the

Consulate. We were generous, no doubt, but unless we had sunk our

barges when we got to the sea, what else could we have done with them?

As for the _Davoust_, it took us two days to empty, dismantle,

and take her to pieces, after which she was embarked in sections on

board the _Axim_, a Liverpool steamer, which took her back to Europe.

Sold as old metal, and what she fetched debited to the credit of the

budget of our expedition, all that is left of the _Davoust_ is now

circulating in fairs or figuring in shop-windows, in the form of light

match-boxes and other small articles such as are made of aluminium.

And this was the end of all the three sturdy barks: _Davoust_, _Aube_,

and _Dantec_, which for twelve whole months were all the world to us!

The _Dantec_ had often seemed likely never to get to the end of her

journey; the _Aube_ certainly ought not to have arrived, judging

by the two or three occasions on which she had seemed done for; at

the end of the voyage you could put your fingers through her rotten

planking. If she had run aground but once more, or if she had got

another blow in passing the last rapid, all would have been over

with her worm-eaten keel, and also with her crew. The _Davoust_

too had received many wounds, and what was more serious still,

oxidation was beginning to work havoc in her sections.

Ten times at least, face to face with some specially bad rapids, I

had made up my mind to lose one of the three, if not all; but, as the

English said, they were gallant ships. Bravely, in spite of rapids,

whirlpools, and rocks, they had made for the appointed goal, the mouth

of the river, bringing there without faltering the whole expedition:

we white men, the coolies, all our goods, and the French flag!

No doubt it was Aube, Dantec, and Davoust, their sponsors, our

comrades, who had died at the task of the conquest of the Niger,

who had brought good luck to our three boats.

Thanks to them, I had kept my oath of 1888.

It was not therefore without emotion, without a sadness which may

have been childish, but which many will understand, that we parted

finally with the companions of so many dangers.

Have not boats souls? Sailors love them like old friends, like

heirlooms. We must attach ourselves affectionately to something in

this life, must we not?

The _Axim_ took us to Forcados; the _Forcados_ to Lago; the _Olinda_,

chartered specially for us, to Porto Novo.

On November 1, at five o’clock in the morning, there was great

excitement at the house of the officers of Porto Novo. Some

people had suddenly arrived, and were banging against the

shutters. The door was soon half-opened and a voice inquired,

“Who are you?”—“Hourst!”—“Where do you come from?”—“Timbuktu”—

and the next moment, without any further questioning, we all

fell into each other’s arms.

After all I experienced in Dahomey and in the Senegal, I will not

dwell too much on the goodness the Governor-General, M. Chaudié,

showed to us on our return, on the kindness he lavished upon every

member of the expedition, or on the reception our friends of St. Louis

gave us later, but I can never thank any of them enough.

We dismissed our coolies at St. Louis, thus effecting an immense

economy. Abdulaye, the carpenter, at once changed his costume for

that of a private citizen. A soft hat, a frock-coat, and a cane

with a silver handle, converted the chrysalis into a butterfly; at

the same time our old servant began to make up for his long months

of sobriety and abstinence. It was, in fact, impossible to find him

even to give him an extra tip.

The rest of our coolies dispersed about the town, holding receptions

in all the public places of the Sarracolais quarter, telling their

adventures with much declamation, and eliciting considerable applause.

The negroes also, it seems, have their mutual admiration for

geographical societies!

Later all the brave fellows who had been devoted to us to the death,

and some of whom we looked upon as real friends, dispersed themselves

once more amongst the Galam villages dotted along the banks of the

Senegal, and there at least I can confidently assert our mission, or

rather, as Digui called it, the _Munition_, was and still is popular.

That is something, at all events.

On December 12, 1896, we landed from the steamer on the quay of

Marseilles, where men were spitting just as they had been when I left

Brest. Looking out of the window of my cab upon the deserted street,

I saw a little Italian boy in the drizzling rain which was falling,

holding in his arms a plaster statuette representing a nude woman

with graceful, supple limbs, probably meant for Diana resting on a

crescent of the moon. She and her bearer looked cold and melancholy

enough. This was my first sight of a really civilized human being

after my three years’ exile.

[Illustration: NATIVES OF AFRICA.]

EPILOGUE

I have now narrated all our adventures, and I leave my readers to

judge of our work. I think it necessary still just to jot down here

the practical conclusions I came to, which may be of use later in

French colonial policy.

To begin with, let us consider how to turn the Niger to account as

a highway for reaching the heart of the Western Sudan.

The French _Journal Officiel_ of Western Africa has published a report

written by Baudry on the possible importations and exportations,

to which I have nothing to add. To every unprejudiced mind he has

clearly proved that there is great wealth of natural produce to be

found in these districts, such as india-rubber, gutta-percha, skins,

wool, wax, _karité_, cotton, etc., which can easily be bought,

and are, in fact, simply waiting to be developed.

Now which would be the best route to take these products to

France? This is the point we have to elucidate to begin with.

We brought home our hydrographical map of the Niger, from Timbuktu to

Bussa, on a scale of 16 miles to the inch, in fifty sheets. One glance

at it will suffice to show that the river is not really practically

navigable further than Ansongo: that is to say, 435 miles below the

last French port in the Sudan.

Further down than Ansongo the river is simply one hopeless labyrinth

of rocks, islands, reefs, and rapids; and although at the time of

our transit there seemed to be fewer obstacles between Say and

Tchakatchi than elsewhere, it must be remembered that we passed

when the water was at its maximum height. As for the Bussa rapids,

they are simply impassable for laden boats.

“You passed all right, though!” some one said to me; and so we

did, but I think the _tour de force_ by which, thanks to our lucky

star, we achieved our passage under the greatest difficulties,

would not be successful once in three times. We might, however, go

down again once more, but to go up would be quite a different matter.

None but little boats, very lightly laden, or without any cargo,

such as the canoes of the natives, can venture without foolhardiness

into such passes as we came through.

This is certainly not the way in which a river can be remuneratively

navigated. Even if an attempt were made to employ the primitive

means alone likely to succeed, beasts of burden, such as camels,

could compete on disastrous terms with the waterway.

To attempt therefore to turn the river to account in supplying the

central districts with merchandise, or to bring down their products

to the coast, would simply result in failure. To take merchandise up

to Say by means of the lower branches of the river, is but a utopian

dream, which would but result in disaster to those traders involved

in the speculation.

Nature has, in fact, laid her interdict on the navigation of a great

part of the course of the Niger; but at least the 435 navigable miles

above Ansongo, and between it and Timbuktu, added to the 622 between

the latter town and Kolikoro, form what may be characterized as a

safe mill-stream, _well within the French districts_. We have not

as yet nearly realized all the resources of those districts.

How then shall we get to this mill-stream of ours, or, as we may

perhaps call it, this inland trading lake? A unique solution to the

problem presents itself: we must finish the line of railway uniting

Kayes to Kolikoro.

The first workers at the task of penetrating into Africa were

right. The project of Mungo Park, and Faidherbe, taken up and

continued by the Desbordes, the Gallieni, the Archinards, etc.,

should be continued, pushed on and completed without delay.

All has already been explored. We are no longer discussing a castle

in the air, with no firm foundations. We know what that railway

will cost, its whole course has been decided on and surveyed;

only one thing is still needed, and that is money. It is for the

French Government to ask for it, and for the French Parliament to

grant it. Certain there be who deliberately oppose French colonial

expansion; with them discussion is impossible. I do not try to

convince them, for they are already proved to be in the wrong.

There are, however, others, noble and loyal Frenchmen, who

stigmatize as sterile all the efforts we make beyond seas to add

to the possessions of our native country. “What,” they urge,

“you talk of wholesale emigration, when the population of France

is by no means increasing!”

This is, after all, only a specious argument. Who speaks of advising

expatriation _en masse_ to Frenchmen for the sake of peopling distant

countries? All the colonies suitable for _peopling_ have already been

appropriated by our English rivals. Australia was the last of them.

With regard, however, to _colonies for exploration_, it is quite

a different matter. And with the fullest conviction of my soul, I

say France ought to acquire such colonies. Through them alone will

she recover her commercial ascendency, which has been so seriously

jeopardized; through them alone will her _social position become

assured_.

Take, for instance, some child, the son of a workman or farmer:

he goes to the school of his quarter or village. Intelligent and

hardworking, he soon wins the affection of his teacher. “Work,”

says that teacher; “to every one the reward is sure, according

to his merits. Think of Pasteur, the son of a workman, to whom all

Europe renders homage.”

Believing what he is told, the child works on. At first the State

fulfils the promises made through the lips of the master. The teacher

has spoken to the inspector of his _protégé_, the rector bestirs

himself in the matter, the minister even intervenes, encouragement

and money aid alike are lavished upon the young fellow. His

zeal increases, he redoubles his application, he passes all the

examinations and gets all the honours possible, till the University

has no more to teach. Teacher, rector, minister, all justly pride

themselves in having done their duty by him.

[Illustration: MEDAL OF THE FRENCH SOCIETY FOR THE ADVANCEMENT

OF SCIENCE.

Then the son of the workman begins his life in the world.

Oh, how changed is everything to him now! Knowledge and industry are

much, it is true, but there are still two applicants for every post,

for every social function, and it is always the weaker, the less

skilful, or rather perhaps the less fortunate, who goes to the wall.

The State has no other situation to offer him, and there is a regular

glut of brain-workers already in commerce and in manufacture. Still

it is necessary to eat to live.

It is easy to say “go back to the workshop or the plough,” but it

is against human nature to do so; the cultivated brain, the matured

intelligence, need the intellectual food to which they have become

accustomed. The hands are too soft and delicate now for manual labour,

nor are the muscles strong enough for it.

One more embittered, discontented, unfortunate man has been produced,

that is all, and who knows but that to-morrow he may astonish the

world by some attempted crime or act of folly, the result of his

despair, perhaps even of actual hunger?

Am I making excuses for an anarchist? By no means. I have but proved

the necessity of French colonial expansion in colonies of exploration.

If we wish to turn our distant possessions to account, the criminal

of yesterday, the dangerous member of society, might go there, and

in directing industrial or commercial enterprises find legitimate

employment and a fair return for all his intelligent efforts and

for the work and study of his youth.

There is plenty of labour to be obtained out there, for it is only

the natives, of whatever tribe or colour, whose temperament is

hostile to manual work.

More than that, these very natives who are now in a degraded state

of barbarism, if taught by intelligent Europeans, would soon rise

above their present condition to more of an equality with their

instructors. Not only would the young man of whom I have been speaking

live a happy life; not only would he win riches for himself and add to

the wealth of his native country, but he would also aid in bringing

about what, in my opinion, is the noblest of all possible ambitions,

the amelioration of the lot of his fellow-creatures, for to make

them better and happier is to share in the work of God Himself.

So logical is this reasoning, that my only wonder is why those who

have the good of humanity at heart have not thought of it before

myself.

Is not our French Sudan just such a fertile colony as is well suited

for playing a part in what I may call the future social policy of

France? I can answer that question in a very few words.

[Illustration: MEDAL OF THE ‘SOCIETÉ D’ALLIANCE FRANÇAISE.’]

I have visited the lower course of the river, with the districts

under the control of the Royal Niger Company, and I can confidently

assert that except for palm-oil, which is only to be obtained on

the seaboard, none of the exports, gum, india-rubber, ivory, and

above all, _karité_, are wanting in the French Sudan. In fact,

we have all these things in greater quantities than the English,

without counting the products peculiar to our districts, but unknown

at the mouth of the river.

Let us then make that railway, and make it quickly. Do not let us

waste any more time talking about it; do not let us turn aside for

any other projects, and when some 373 miles of iron road unite

some 622 miles of the navigable Senegal, with no less than 1056

miles of the Niger, all alike fit to be navigated by our boats, we

shall have a second Algeria, larger and richer than the first. The

mind can scarcely grasp the idea of the new source of fortune to

be opened to France by a thing so simple as this, a thing in which

the Belgians have been beforehand with us—the construction of a

railway. Stanley was right when he said Africa would belong to the

first who should lay down a line of railway through it.[12]

This will bring us to Ansongo. Are we to let it be the limit of our

zone of trading operations? No, certainly not; and this brings me

to a second result won by our expedition: the opening of relations

with the Awellimiden.

I have constituted myself the defender of the Tuaregs. I have shown

them to be less cruel, less traitorous, less hostile to progress than

they are generally said to be. It is for the reader to judge whether

the adventures I have related do or do not prove my impressions to

have been correct.

One thing, however, I must stipulate, and that is: if we let months

or years slip by without improving the relations opened with the

Tuaregs of the Niger by further contact with them, we shall find

them more difficult to deal with, more suspicious, altogether less

accessible than we did during our stay in their country.

As I have already said, the Azgueurs were in our hands after the

journey of Duveyrier. Ikhenukhen, their great chief, who was honoured

and obeyed by them, was our friend. When the treaty of Rhâdames was

made, we said to them, “We want to go to the Sudan by way of Aïr:

you will guide us, you will protect our traders, you will hire your

camels to us, and you will find it to your profit to do so.”

A Tuareg proverb says, “You should never promise more than half

what you mean to perform.”

The Azgueurs of course expected our caravans to arrive, and they

are still expecting them. Gradually, however, they are beginning

to doubt us. “What,” they are saying, “did those Frenchmen,

who seemed so anxious to trade in our country, come to do here?”

When this question is put to a Tuareg, he will answer immediately,

“They came to spy; they were the spies of a great army, which will

come to take away our liberty and our independence.”

[Illustration: MEDAL OF THE LYONS GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY.]

In the English of Tripoli and their agent, the Kaimakhan of Rhâdames,

they would have advisers, who would increase their suspicions

of us. Little by little the sympathy the Tuaregs had felt for us

would give way to dread of us. Ikhenukhen is dead now, the Sahara is

closed to us, more completely closed than when Duveyrier visited it,

or when Barth and Richardson crossed it.

If we are equally negligent with the Awellimiden, we shall obtain

equally melancholy results.

If only an opposite policy could be pursued, how different everything

would be!

Whilst waiting for that iron road, and alas! its completion is very

far off! the only means of transit—bearing in mind the impossibility

of navigating the second section of the river—is to employ the

comparatively cheap and easily obtained ships of the desert, the

ugly but useful camels.

Now the camels all belong to the Tuaregs, generally to their Imrad

tribes.

Let us imagine that the railway is completed, that boats brought

up in sections to Kolikoro have been put together there, and are

going down the river as far as Gao, boats sufficiently well armed

to make the French respected, and of sufficient tonnage to carry

merchandise; we should at once have either at Gao or somewhere else

in its neighbourhood, a centre, so to speak, of transit, to which

the Tuaregs could bring their animals to be laden, and acting as

convoys to our caravans, would be most useful auxiliaries to the

French traders.

Do not let any one urge against this the pillaging instincts of the

Tuaregs. To begin with, it is in our power, if necessary, to destroy,

or at least to insist, upon the removal elsewhere, of the riveraine

negro villages, an excellent way of keeping the natives in awe, for

we should then have it in our power to avenge ourselves efficaciously

on them in case of their hostility, for it is from these riveraine

districts that they obtain the grain which is their only food.

I assert, however, that it would never be necessary to proceed to

such extremities as that.

The Tuaregs are alike too intelligent and avaricious of gain to risk

raids, the result of which would be uncertain, when merely letting

out their camels on hire would bring them in alike a greater and a

surer profit.

By doing as I suggest, the old route from Gao to Lake Tchad, one of

the most ancient in Northern Africa, could be reopened. This route,

bearing as it does in the direction of Gober and Aïr, and skirting

the Sahara, as it were in the rear, might in the end be made to

connect the French Sudan with Algeria and Tunis.

To achieve this I repeat we must not give the marabouts, who are

badly disposed towards the French, time to destroy our work before

it is fairly begun; we must not by too long a delay, awake once more

the suspicions of the Awellimiden, which are always easily aroused.

I do not pretend to say that any immediate profits would result from

the course I advocate. Skins, wool, and gum are all too heavy to

make it worth while to export them by difficult and costly modes of

transport from Timbuktu to Kolikoro, and from Kolikoro to Diubeba,

where ends at the present moment the railway from the Senegal to

the Niger.

[Illustration: MEDAL OF THE MARSEILLES GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY.]

It is, however, absolutely necessary to pave the way for traffic even

at the cost of a temporary loss, so that it may be in full swing

from the very day of the completion of the railway, when steamers

will begin to ply on the navigable portion of the Niger.

On that day our hydrographical map, which is so far the chief result

of our expedition, will find its use!

Was our stay at Say a profitable one? The future alone can decide.

I do think, however, that at least our gentle and benevolent

behaviour to the peaceable natives, to the tillers of the soil, the

Koyraberos, must, however obtuse their intelligence, have proved to

them that these French infidels, these Kaffirs, as they called us,

were not really exactly what their marabouts told them we were:

ferocious beasts.

Moreover, our establishing ourselves in our island, and our stay

at Fort Archinard, in spite of the prohibition of our enemy, Amadu

Cheiku, under his very eyes, as it were, and in spite of all his

satellites could do, all his vain intrigues against us, must surely

have weakened his influence and his prestige.

We could not possibly have done more than we did with the very small

force at our command, and in view of the instructions we had received

to maintain the pacific character of our expedition, instructions,

alas! which to the end remained incomplete, and were very different

from what I had hoped they would be.

With regard to the Lower Niger it is best to be silent. There is far

too much competition there with other European nations, and it would

only lessen the effect of the results we had been able to obtain,

whether those results were great or small, to publish what they

were. It is for diplomacy to deal with them, bearing in mind that

our rivals know on occasion how to act with what I may call quite

a special bad geographical faith, which is not, however, any longer

effective, since we have now reconnoitred and examined the districts

in dispute.

I may add that we also brought back with us a few collections, and

what was, as it appears to me, a most important point, the results

of as careful a study as possible of the different dialects spoken

in the river districts.

There is nothing which gains the confidence of the natives more

than to be able to speak, or even to jabber, their language. The

effect on the Tuaregs especially is immense when they find that a

European can say a few phrases in Tamschenk, and a very great stride

has been made towards a good understanding when those sentences have

been pronounced.

[Illustration: MEDAL OF THE CHER GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY.]

Whatever may be the results of our journey, I should be guilty of the

grossest ingratitude if I concluded my account of our adventures in

any other way than by thanking all the devoted companions who helped

me to bring it to a successful conclusion.

Our negroes, those brave Senagalese, whom we have watched at their

work so long, who were so devoted, so _French_, who so blindly

followed the chief whose service they had entered, had held their

own lives cheap, and now shared with us the proud sense of duty

accomplished.

Then above all, our thanks are due to my friends Baudry, Bluzet,

Taburet, and Father Hacquart. We were going back now to civilized

life, perhaps to disperse to the four corners of the earth, but a

bond had been formed between us which nothing will ever break. As for

me, that bond was made up chiefly of loving gratitude, for to them

is due the fact that I was able to keep my oath made when Davoust

died, to serve my country and to increase the extent of the future

possessions of France.

[Illustration: NATIVES OF SANSAN HAUSSA.]

Thanks too must be given to those who aided me by their influence,

their encouragement, and their contributions, no matter how small. As

my readers have seen, the beginning of the hydrographical expedition

I commanded was set about with many difficulties, and I can honestly

assert that I suffered far more personally just because of my zeal

for the task I had undertaken; a task which when completed would

extend the area of our colonial possessions and make them better

known, which would add to the wealth and the power of my native

country. Yes, I suffered more than if I had been a bad officer,

caring little about his duty.

I wish I could say that at least all was changed on my return, but

truth compels me to add that there were certain notable exceptions

to the general sympathy with me, and the general kindness of the

reception given to me.

[Illustration: GRAND MEDAL OF THE PARIS SOCIETY OF COMMERCIAL

GEOGRAPHY.]

But never mind, the sense of having done one’s duty is worth more

than anything else.

It is to you, dear friends, dear companions on the Niger, that I

add—“Let people say what they will; a hundred years hence many

things and many men will be forgotten, but for all that, it will be

as true then as it is now, that our hydrographical expedition was

the first to descend the Niger, the first to explore its course from

Kolikoro to the sea.”

A French sailor, Francis Garnier by name, on his way to Tonquin,

which he had to aid in conquering, and where he was to end his days,

wrote to his mother describing all the difficulties he would have

to contend with, adding, “But I do not mind, mother dear. Forward,

for the sake of old France!”

For ourselves, and for those who are to come after us in Africa or

elsewhere, I too close my narrative with the same words. “Forward,

for the sake of old France!”

[Illustration: _THE COURSE OF THE RIVER NIGER from TIMBUKTU to BUSSA._

_Reduced from the Original Surveys made by the HOURST Expedition._]

INDEX

Abd el Kader, Arab name of Hourst, 90, 191, 196, 309

Abder Rhaman, a chief, 142, 144

Abdu, 285-288, 293

Abdul Dori, 65, 66, 78, 98

Abdulaye, a carpenter, 96, 189, 287, 319, 320, 335, 364, 370, 399,

496

Abdulaye Dem, Tierno, 41, 70, 84, 95, 96, 157, 196, 286, 338, 352,

353, 367, 397, 416

Abdul Bubakar, 329

Abdul Kerim, 88-90, 101, 103, 124, 146, 153, 154, 168, 174, 184, 191

Abegga, 484, 485

Abiddin, 75, 81, 101-108, 114, 118, 120, 121, 135, 140, 141

Abo, 350, 488, 490, 491

Abu, 147

Achur, 125

Adria, 158

Agata, a village, 135, 136

Aghades, 352

Agibu, 373

Agony, 358

Agoult, Naval Lieutenant, 456, 487, 491

Ahmadu Mumi, 280, 386, 387, 389

Ahmady Mody, 318, 338

Air, 176, 202, 207, 243, 247, 505, 507

Ajacin, 443

Akassa, 452, 488, 493

Algeria, 49, 129, 144, 201, 228, 242, 247, 504, 507

Algiers, 228

Ali, 306

Aliburi, 282, 310, 313, 320, 388

Alif, 118

Alimsar, 240, 241, 426

Alkori, 204

Al Walidj, 104

Amacher, 202, 222

Amadi, 79, 80

Amadu, a guide, 436-439, 442-445, 456, 457, 468

Amadu Cheiku, 37, 181, 271, 274, 280, 283, 290, 291, 307, 312-317,

372, 384, 508

Amadu Lobbo Cissé, a chief, 78

Amadu Saturu or Modibo, 285, 286, 288, 290-292, 299, 326, 347, 359,

361, 365-368, 373, 378, 382-387, 388-391

Amiru of Torodi, 313

Amrar, 178, 244

Ansars, 208

Ansel Makkoren, 144

Ansongo, 99, 100, 165, 181-184, 188, 192, 269, 368, 369, 373, 498,

499, 504

Arabu, 310, 364

Archinard, General, 37, 284, 298, 299, 500

_Ardent, The_, 452, 492

Ardos of Massina, 316

Argungu, 412, 421

Arhlal, 101

Armas, the, or Romas, 144, 168, 208, 209, 216, 217

Aron, Lieutenant, 491, 492, 494

Askia, 165, 167, 193, 207, 316

Assaba, 487-490

Atakor n’Ahaggar, 202, 207, 243

Atchino, 331, 358, 399

Attanoux, 84, 160, 172

Aube, 30, 495

_Aube, The_, 52, 59, 60, 94, 99, 123, 146, 147, 156, 186, 188, 193,

251, 255, 256, 258, 260, 275-277, 299, 304, 338, 357, 358, 459, 463,

467-469, 494

Auru, 265, 368, 369, 438, 449, 464, 466, 467, 470, 472, 474, 479, 485

Aussa, Igwadaren, the, 90, 131

Autel Makhoren, 134

Awellimiden, the, 88, 104-106, 120, 129-131, 136, 148, 152, 167,

170, 173, 174, 176, 177, 181, 195, 196, 201, 203, 204, 209, 217,

219, 231, 236, 238, 240, 241, 243, 246, 247, 271, 315, 379, 426,

504, 506, 507

Azemay, 277

Azgueurs, the, 160, 172, 197, 201, 248, 504

Baba Hamet, 80, 146, 177

Badjibo or Guadjibo, 470

Bafing, a stream, 7, 42

Bafulabé, 7, 34, 38, 42

Bakel, 27, 30

Bakhoy, the, 7, 39, 42

Balia, 180, 181

Ballot, Governor, 33

Bamako, 52, 289, 405

Bamana Dankun, 71

Bamba, 136, 148

Bambara, 60, 62, 68, 71, 281, 351, 411

Bandiagara, 65, 288, 290, 363, 364, 367, 371, 372

_Bargu, The_, 475, 477

Baror, a rock, 149, 155

Barth, Dr. Henry, 1, 2, 10, 75, 88, 89, 101, 124, 129, 142, 149,

152, 156, 165, 166, 179, 180, 184-186, 194, 201, 240, 251, 357, 367,

484, 485, 505

Baruba, 142

Baud, 32, 33, 285, 286, 423, 427

Baudry, Lieutenant, 14, 17, 20, 21, 23, 28, 32, 34, 36-39, 41, 64,

94, 97, 100, 132, 160, 182, 188, 197, 254-257, 261, 302, 323, 335,

337, 352, 353, 364, 371, 399, 421, 468, 469, 485, 498, 510

Baye Hamet, 80, 146, 177

Beba, 182

Bechir Uld Mbirikat, 88, 118

Beckay Uld Ama Lamine, 75, 76

Bedda of Ida, 228

Belle or Bellates, 215, 216, 251

Benin, 493

Beni-Omia, law of, 236-238

Bentia, the Biting of Barth, 194

Benuë, 479, 481, 483

Berber, 203, 204

Bidda, 437, 476, 488

Bikini, 405

Bilali Cumba, a coolie, 29

Bilinga, 375

Bina, Ali, 47

Biskra, 78

Bluzet, Lieutenant, 37-41, 44, 45, 64, 94, 97, 100, 158, 290, 303,

304, 325, 340, 353, 354, 374, 408, 469, 510

Bobo, 282

Bokar Ahmidu Collado, 372

Boker Wandieïdu, 218, 252, 269-271

Bolard, Léon, 19, 20, 38

Bonnier, Colonel, 30, 118, 218

Bori, 100

Bornu, 179

Bozos, the, 316, 351, 354

Brass, 488, 493

_Brazil, The_, 21, 23

Brid’oison, M., 352

Brière de l’Isle, 24

_Brière de l’Isle, The_, 27, 30

Bubakar-Singo, 28, 39

Bubodji, 406

Burdane, 202

Buré, an island, 189, 191

Burgu, 408, 420, 423, 455

Burrem, 98, 100

Burrum, 10, 160, 165, 413

Bussa, 5, 289, 303, 408, 425, 431, 433, 434, 437, 439, 440, 443-449,

451, 452, 454, 459, 462, 470, 472, 474, 479, 481, 498, 499

Bussuma, 373

Caillé, René, 75

Cape Verd, 21

Carnot, M., 176

Caron, 8, 33, 41, 309

Carrol, Captain, 473, 475, 476, 486, 487, 490

Cayor, 23, 24, 282, 319, 364, 388

Chalor, a rock, 149

Chambas, the, 204, 248

Charenton, 435

Chaudié, M., Governor-General, 37, 496

Chautemps, M., Colonial Minister, 37

Cheibatan, the, 240, 242

Cherbourg, 22

Colbert, 5

Congo, the, 36

Conquet, 399

Dafins, the, 274

Dahomey, 32, 33, 96, 289, 290, 331, 358, 399, 474, 496

Dakar, 21, 25, 87

Damels, 23

_Dantec, The_, 52, 95, 99, 156, 188, 254-256, 260, 357, 463, 465,

468, 469, 492, 494

Davoust, Naval Lieutenant, 7, 10, 34, 427, 439, 495, 510

_Davoust, The_, 11, 13, 21, 23, 28, 29, 34, 38, 41, 44, 59, 60, 65,

93, 99, 112, 117, 146, 149, 156, 178, 193, 194, 250, 255, 256, 259,

263, 277, 300, 306, 370, 459, 465, 469, 494, 495

Day, 93

Dē, 367

Debo, Lake, 74, 78, 140, 298, 334, 405

De Brazza, 482

Decœur, 32, 33, 286, 358, 423, 436

Delcassé, M., 6, 7, 10

Dendi, 317, 377, 404, 406, 409, 411, 413, 414, 417, 419, 423, 446

Dendikobes, the, 377

Dentchendu, 385, 391, 421

Dergona, 179, 180, 181

Desa, 268

Desbordes, 500

Destenaves, Captain, 34, 39, 65, 66

Diafara, 373

Diamu, 97, 337

Diena, 35

Digui or Samba Amadi, 39, 41, 95, 197, 255, 256, 259-261, 264, 267,

275, 317, 318, 329, 369, 376, 381, 399, 407, 442, 454, 459, 460,

462, 463, 465, 467, 486, 496

Diko, 153

Diubeba, 42, 507

Diulas, the, 330

Djamarata, 368, 379

Djanaru, 316

Djerma, 385-389, 421

Djermakoy, 384, 385, 421

Djermankobes, 298, 313, 325

Djidjima, 442

Djitafe, 81

Djula, 375

Dodds, General, 358

Dongoe, 148, 149, 218

Dori, 65, 66, 243, 312, 368, 373

Dosso, 389

Drew, Mr., 474, 475, 481, 485, 486, 490

Duentza, 312

Dunga, 280-284, 300, 312, 382, 387, 397

Dungu, 313, 315

Duveyrier, 197, 201, 243-245, 248, 504, 505

Ebener, Colonel, 33

Eguedeche, 145, 146

El Abaker, 208

El Hadj Omar, 75, 76, 79, 129, 313, 314, 316, 386, 397

El Khotab, 154, 168, 170, 240

El Mekki, 182, 183, 186, 270, 271

El Sirat, 272

El Waghdu, 124

El Yacin, 178, 219

Emir el Munemin, 308, 314

Emir Ikenukhen, 244, 504, 505

Fabu, 67

Fafa, 194, 197, 250, 379

Faguibine, Lake, 33

Faidherbe, General, 17, 24, 352, 500

Fandu, 314, 316

Fanta, 380

Farca, 268, 270, 272, 273

Farimake, 372

Fatimata Azzer’a, 237

Faure, Felix, President, 176

Festing, Major, 474-477, 481, 482, 487, 490

Fily or Fili Kanté, 97, 304, 333, 337, 340, 469, 480

Fituka, 316

Flatters, 114, 145, 244, 391

Flint, Mr., 490

Fogne, 443

Fonssagrives, 458, 474

Footah, 66, 280, 352

_Forcades, The_, 495

Forcados, 492, 495

Forgo, 164

Fort Archinard, 39, 298, 302, 306, 317, 320-325, 332-337, 339, 344,

348, 356, 360, 371, 387, 392, 398-400, 403, 508

Fort Arenberg or Taubman-Goldie, 470, 471, 473

Fort Goree, 21

Froger, Naval-Ensign, 7

Fulahs or Peuls, the, 3, 65, 75, 78, 129, 166, 181, 194, 202, 251,

271, 280, 309, 312, 314, 316, 325, 351, 352, 359, 362, 363, 368,

379, 386, 394, 396, 408, 422, 436, 454

Futanis, the, 406, 408, 411, 426

Futankés, the, 282, 290, 385, 406

Gaberos, the, 181, 315, 316, 382, 384

Gabibi, the, 216

Gagno, 422

Galam, 496

Gallieni, Colonel, 67, 284, 500

Gambia, the, 6

Gando, 428, 429, 438, 454

Gao or Garo, 165-167, 268, 279, 506, 507

Gao-Wâdy, 242, 243

Garafiri, 462, 467

Garama, 166

Garamantes, the, 166

Gardio, 140

Garnier, Francis, 511

Gauthiot, M., 36, 37, 170

Geba, 471-476, 481, 486

Geigelia, 93

Gheres, 237

Gherinecha, 237, 238

Gilua, 439

Giraudon, M. de, 352

Girris, 427-429, 435

Gober or Sinder, 207, 313, 507

Gomba, 433, 436, 437

Goruberi, 411, 414, 420, 424

Gorubi, 412

Gourma, 316, 317, 328

Grodet, M., 20, 28, 32, 289

Grunner, Dr , 428, 438

Guadjibo or Badjibo, 470, 471, 473, 476

Guinina, 67

Gumba, 405

Gundam, 129

Gungi, 134, 136, 140

Guni, 62

Gurao, 74, 77, 334

Gurienisi, the, 325

Gurma, 354, 366, 387

Ha, 163

Habés, the, 367

Habibulaye, 78, 80, 81

Hacquart, Father, 83, 87, 94, 97, 103, 107, 118, 136, 145, 156-158,

172-174, 258, 272, 278, 279, 283, 290, 303, 324, 338, 340, 341, 351,

398, 427, 430, 432, 510

Hadji Hamet, 427, 428, 430, 432, 435

Hamadi, 80, 87, 89

Hamda-Allahi, 76, 78, 314, 365

Hameit, a sheriff, 104, 135, 140

Hamma Tansa, 392

Hanotaux, Commandant, 228

Haussa, 222, 325, 381, 395, 411, 429, 430, 439, 482

Hoggars, the, 81, 114, 136, 144-146, 231, 244-246

Hombori, 367, 373

Hugo, 282-284, 393

Ibnu, 118, 119

Ibrahim, 155, 161, 397

Ibrahim Bubakar, 342

Ibrahim Galadio, 288, 312-314, 351, 360, 362-367, 371, 372, 382

Idris, 192, 194

Ifoghas, the, 190, 192, 241

Igga, 440, 454, 479, 485

Igharghar, 243

Igwadaren, the, 91, 104, 106, 116-135, 142-145, 148, 209, 217, 240

Ihaggaren, the, 144, 215, 225, 227, 230, 231, 240, 249

Ikum, 440

Ilo, 426, 430, 431, 434-437, 474

Ioraghen, the, 129

Iregnaten, the, 129

Issa, 434

Issa-Ber, 33

Jenné, 52, 73, 96, 352

Jesero, 438

Joffre, Colonel, 33

Joliba or Upper Niger, 5

Jouenne, Dr., 8

Kabara, 81, 83, 90, 91, 93, 102, 121

Kagha, 90, 100, 107, 108, 174

Kaheide, 30

Kale, 392

Kambaris, the, 440

Kandji, 462

Kardieba, 127, 148

Karma, 281, 282, 313, 414

Karu, 251, 257

Kayes, 27, 30, 38, 39, 41, 49, 73, 476, 500

Kebbi, 317, 377, 409, 411, 413, 439

Kel Ahara, the, 238, 240, 241

Kel Air, the, 168, 177, 180

Kel Antassar, the, 33, 103, 118, 125

Kel Avis, the, 192

Kel Es Suk, the, 104, 121, 136, 162, 182-186, 207, 208, 217, 269, 270

Kel Gheres, the, 231, 237, 243, 246, 282

Kel Gossi, the, 100, 101, 107, 241

Kel Kumeden, the, 238, 240, 241

Kel Owi, the, 122, 142, 143

Kel Tedjiuane, the, 238, 240, 241

Kel Temulai, the, 102, 104, 106-110, 114, 173, 209, 375

Kendadji, 265, 438

Kibtachi, 296, 313, 381-384, 403, 405

Kieka-Sanké, 62-64

Kisira, 445

Kita, 9, 50, 51, 54, 408

Koa, 100

Kokoro, 276

Kolikoro, 8, 12, 22, 52-59, 62, 63, 73

Koly Mody, 373

Kompa, 282, 405-408, 411, 417, 420, 424

Kongu, 124

Konnari, 394

Konotasi, 462, 467

Koridjuga, 62

Koriomé, 8, 81

Koyraberos, the, 306, 309, 311, 323, 324, 361, 381, 508

Kpatachi, 462

Kuka, 491

Kunari, 373

Kundji, 438

Kunta, 108

Kuntas, the, 77, 81, 87-91, 100-103, 105, 106, 140, 141, 146, 152,

172, 177

Kurteyes, the, 181, 268, 271, 274, 278, 282, 316, 326, 382, 393,

425, 434, 435

Kutkuole, 282

Kutungu, 265

Labezenga, 193, 252, 257, 260, 261, 264, 370, 406

Lamothe, M. de, 23, 27

Lander, Richard, 472

Lankafu, 438

Laperrine, Captain, 145

Larba, 312

Lat-Dior, 23

Lavigerie, Mgr., 84

Leba, 453, 456, 457, 470, 471, 473, 476

Lefort, Sub-lieutenant, 8

Lemta or Lemtuma, 204, 240

Liptako, 372

Logomaten, the, 218, 242, 252, 270, 312

Lokodja, 344, 473, 475, 479, 480-485, 488

M’Pal, 23

Ma, 55, 56

Mabrok, 90

Madani, 292

Madecali, 420, 423-426, 434

Mademba Seye, 66-69, 71, 73

Madidu, Chief of the Awellimiden, 104-107, 136, 154, 155, 164-168,

170-180, 183, 192, 194-196, 217, 219, 240, 247, 265, 266, 271, 277,

286, 312, 368, 372, 382, 387, 426

Madunia, 102, 112

_Mage, The_, 9, 10, 74

Malet, Sir Edward, 10, 413

Malinke, the, 54

Malo, 277

Mamadu, 97

Mamé, 96, 97, 109, 259, 260, 263, 434

Manambugu, 8, 9, 52

Mandao, Osmane, 17, 26

Marchand, 36, 38

Marka, 274

Massala, 56

Massenya, 1

Massina, 8, 280, 312, 314, 316, 353, 367, 371, 372, 386, 394, 405

Matam, 30

Matar Samba, 87, 95

Mattei, Commandant, 483, 484, 488

Mauri, 313, 377, 413

Maussinissa, 202

Milali, 107

Mizon, 451, 470, 482

Modibo Konna, 394, 396, 397

Mohamed Askia, 165

Mohamed ben Eddain, 208

Mohamed Uld Mbirikat, 118, 121-123, 127, 130, 134, 136, 140

Mohammed ben Abdallah, 88, 201

Mohammed Djebbo, 385

Monteil, Colonel, 6, 7, 11, 17, 285, 360, 412, 413, 421

Mopti, 34, 140, 386, 394, 405

Mores, 474

_Morning Star, The_, 472

Morocco, 144, 204, 208, 209, 216

Mosi, 216

Mossi, 39, 65, 66, 316, 325, 353, 354, 373, 375, 377-379

Mount Davoust, 440

Mount Delagarde, 440

Mount Kolikoro, 56, 57

Mount Tondibi, 163

Moyadikoira, 147

Mumi, 386, 387

Mungo Park, 5, 6, 9, 165, 439, 500

Mussa, 97, 337

Mycenæ, 118

Naba of Wagadugu, 378

Nabi Mussa or Mises, 375

Namantugu Mame, 412

Neschrun, 185, 186

Ngiti-Sokoto, the, 243

Ngouna, 33

Ngubi-Sokoto, the, 437

N’Guna, 103, 105

Niger, the, 2, 5-14, 17, 18, 22, 23, 32, 33, 36-39, 42, 44, 52, 54,

56, 72-74, 78, 82, 84, 94, 96, 99, 101, 105, 116, 128, 129, 142,

146, 152, 157, 160, 163, 165-168, 176, 182, 185, 191, 193, 202, 209,

210, 242, 243, 262, 263, 269, 271, 273, 279, 281, 289, 290, 294,

295, 298, 314, 334, 344, 350, 353, 368, 386, 393, 404, 405-408,

411-415, 421, 440, 453, 458, 460, 464, 470, 472, 477, 483, 488, 492,

493, 495, 498, 499, 504, 507, 508, 510

_Niger, The_, 9, 10, 74

Nigotte, Captain, 218

_Nigritian, The_, 479

Nikki, 474

Nioro, 68, 100, 280, 282, 312, 313, 316

Niugui, 372

Nuhu, 8

Nupé, 477

_Nupé, The_, 490

_Olinda, The_, 495

Onitcha, 490

Osman, 277, 306-308, 325, 327, 353, 368, 376-378, 384-386, 389, 391

Osterman, 59

Othman dan Fodio, 78, 395

Oursi Beli, 243

Patanis, the, 452, 470, 491

Pontoise, 298

Porto Novo, 495

Port Said, 484

Prince de Polignac, 197

Pullo Sidibé or Khalifa, 306-308, 351, 360, 363, 364, 368, 376, 382,

386

Rabba, 378, 476, 477

R’abbas, 109, 112

Raha, 436

R’alif, 109, 112

R’alli, 121-125, 138-140

Regard, Captain, 218

Reichala, daughter of Madidu, 219

Rejou, M., Commandant, 83, 89, 90

_René Caillie, The_, 470

Rhâdames, 197, 244, 505

Rhat, 207, 278

Rhergo, 102, 107, 114, 116, 118, 119

_Ribago, The_, 479, 485, 487, 490

Richardson, 505

Rimaibes, the, 316

R’isa, 237

Rocher, M. Du, 23

Rufisque, 22

Rupia, 440-442, 451

Saga, 283, 328

Sahara, the, 8, 82, 136, 160, 204

Said, 89

St. Louis, 17, 22-27, 39, 67, 281, 352, 496

Sakhaui or Sarrawi, 90, 91, 104, 116, 118, 131, 134, 138, 144, 145

Sakhib, 104, 126-128, 130, 131, 134, 135, 147

Saldé, 30

Salla Uld Kara, 88, 104, 149-155, 161

Samba Demba, 300, 337, 338, 468

Samba Laobé, 23, 319

Samba Sumaré, 123

Samory, 54, 67, 299, 301, 310, 313, 314, 330, 331, 377

Sansanding, 66-69, 72-74, 87

Sansan-Haussa, 191, 278, 306, 377

Saraféré, 78

Sarankeni, 331

Sarayamo, 367

Saredina, 74-76, 140, 141

Sarracolais, the, 27, 28, 96, 274, 300, 316, 496,

Satoni, 269, 270

Sauzereau, 38, 39, 41, 59

Say, 32, 74, 75, 96, 99, 174, 180, 219, 240, 250, 274, 277, 280,

282, 285, 289, 290, 293-297, 299, 300, 306-308, 310-328, 333-335,

337, 347, 351, 352, 356, 358, 363, 365-369, 372, 375-378, 381,

384-390, 397, 405, 406, 413, 422, 437, 439, 474, 476, 479, 499, 508

Seba, 450

Sego, 37, 39, 52, 64, 66, 68, 78, 98, 301, 312, 314

Senegal, the, 4, 6, 7, 17, 27, 44, 66, 97, 274, 280, 316, 317, 334,

381, 482, 496, 504, 507

Senegambia, 23, 24

Senussis, the, 201

Sergoe, 377, 388

Serki Kebbi, 378, 406, 409, 411-413, 421

Sidi Alluata, 79, 80, 100-103, 107

Sidibés, the, 316, 361, 382-384

Sidi el Amin, 146

Sidi Hamet, 89-91, 100, 117, 118, 120-122, 127, 148, 149, 151, 153

Sidi Hamet Beckay, 74-77, 79-81, 88, 101, 105, 121, 129, 140, 141,

146, 153-155, 184

Sidi Moktar, 79, 105

Sidi Okha, 78

Sikasso, 330

Silla, 5

Sillabés, the, 274, 316, 382, 392

Sinder, 180, 207, 218, 266, 269, 272-275, 278, 283, 312, 316

Skobeleff, General, 262

_Sokkoto, The_, 483

Sokoto, 75, 174, 313, 372, 377, 395, 412, 413, 484

Somangoro, 54-57

Songhay, 96, 109, 161, 163-166, 182, 191-194, 202, 208, 209, 216,

217, 274, 306, 309, 312, 316, 324, 325, 351, 354, 430

Soninkés, the, 54-56, 71, 100, 274

Sorbo, 278, 281, 282

Soule, 423-425

Spahis, the, 23, 319

Stanley, 504

Sudan, the, 7, 14, 19, 22, 32, 37, 43, 49, 50, 52, 67-69, 79, 81,

82, 138, 172, 201, 210, 213, 252, 273, 284, 300, 336, 337, 345, 372,

411, 417, 441, 505

_Sudan, The_, 475

Sudan, French, 6, 17, 34, 38, 42, 44, 51, 77, 100, 126, 138, 210,

273, 299, 373, 451, 488, 489, 503

Sudan, Western, 76, 100, 165, 166, 193, 406, 498

Suleyman Foutanke, 280, 281, 290, 323, 352, 357, 381, 399, 400, 416,

430

Suleyman Gundiamu, 41, 95, 286, 287, 292, 329, 331, 373, 397, 430,

483

Sultan of Fez, 208

Sultan of Segu, 37, 314

Sundiata, 47, 54, 56

Surgu, 202

Taburet, Dr., 38, 52, 58, 60, 87, 94, 97, 118, 123, 134, 135, 158,

277, 278, 281, 290, 303, 327, 328, 332, 333, 338, 348, 393, 416-419,

474, 476, 484, 486, 510

Tacubaos, the, 218

Taddemekka, 182, 207

Tademeket, the, 104, 131, 148, 152, 154-158, 160-162, 168, 170, 201,

241, 269

Tahar, 121, 140

Talibia, 296-298, 360, 379, 381, 387, 388

Ta-Masheg or Tamschek, 109, 173, 202, 220, 222, 226, 228, 229, 509

Tankisso, 404

Tarik, 203

Tarka, 203

Tarkai-Tamut, 203

Tayoro, 394-398

Tchad, Lake, 28, 165, 247, 352, 372, 507

Tchakatchi, 438-440, 499

Tedian Diarra, 358

Tenda, 414-416, 420-424, 430, 447

Tenger Eguedeche, the, 162-164, 168, 170

Tenguereguif, the, 173, 209, 218

Thies, 23

Tieba, 330, 331

Tillé, 389

Timbuktu, 7, 8, 32, 33, 41, 69, 73, 75, 78-84, 87-91, 98, 102, 103,

106, 114-120, 122, 126, 129, 130, 134, 136, 138, 142, 148, 245, 273,

279, 288, 309, 331, 335, 344, 351, 352, 368, 369, 427, 473, 495,

498, 499, 507

Tinalschiden, 149

Tintellust, 207

Tioko, 372

Togoland, 428

Tolimandio, 52

Tombuttu, 423, 424

Torodi, 312, 313, 315, 382, 384

Toron, 54

Tosaye or Sala Koira, 88, 89, 104, 128, 131, 148-153, 158, 162, 201,

219

Toucouleurs, the, 3, 8, 41, 62, 63, 66, 67, 73, 75, 76, 79, 105,

129, 130, 140, 152, 209, 218, 271, 279-282, 284, 285, 287-290, 299,

304, 312-314, 360, 382, 384, 386-393, 397, 405, 411, 414, 417, 419,

423

Toutée, Captain, 266, 269, 272, 273, 278, 282, 286, 290, 447, 457,

470

Towdeyni, 83

Trentinian, Colonel de, 34, 38, 138

Tripoli, 216, 505

Tuaregs, the, 8, 18, 33, 37, 65, 75, 78-80, 84, 88, 89, 98, 100,

101, 104, 106, 108, 114, 119-134, 138, 142, 144, 149-178, 182,

189-194, 197, 199-249, 251, 256, 257, 266, 269, 270-273, 275, 283,

307, 312, 315, 351, 368, 372, 379, 383, 388, 394, 397, 434, 470,

505-506, 509

Tuat, 78, 79, 81, 88, 216, 310

Tumaré, 268

Ubangi, the, 11

Uro Galadio, 37

Vermesch, 285

Vinet-Laprade, 24

Wadalen, the, 242

Wagadugu, 373, 375

Wagniaka, 372, 394

Wagobés, the, 269, 270, 272, 274, 316, 377

Walaldé, 30

Wali, 48

Wallace, Mr., 474, 475, 479, 480, 485, 490

Wari, 12, 491-494

Watagunu, 251

Wemé, the, 358

Wolof, 96, 280, 282, 320

Yakare, 71

Yangbassu, 458

Yauri, 377, 439

Yemen, 78

Yoba, 368

Yola, 479, 482

Yuli, 382

Yunes, 104, 156, 219

Yusuf Osman, 281, 282

Zarhoi, 122, 126, 139, 144

* * * * *

_Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London & Bungay._

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: A popular French dance.—_Trans._]

[Footnote 2: The translator thinks it best to give the actual words

of this celebrated despatch, which caused so much excitement at

the time.]

[Footnote 3: A _griot_ is a superior negro, who acts as interpreter,

etc.—_Trans._]

[Footnote 4: Bamana Dankun had replied to Monson who had called him,

“I will come; when I have finished the sacrifices I am offering,

I will come.” Hence the anger of the _Fama_.]

[Footnote 5: I have failed to ascertain the meaning of the word

_Jaribata_. The griots sometimes use words in their songs, which the

present natives of Bambara do not themselves understand, and which

may perhaps be survivals of a now extinct language.]

[Footnote 6: The singular of _Ihaggaren_ is _Ahaggar_, and of _Imrad_,

_Amrid_.]

[Footnote 7: It will be understood that the translations in the

English text of the free translations of the originals can only give

an approximate idea of the poems quoted.—_Trans._]

[Footnote 8: These are the slang names for members of the secret

police in France.—_Trans._]

[Footnote 9: I make a special point of the exact situation of

Farca. Captain Toutée says in a note to his book on Dahomey,

the Niger, and the Tuaregs, that he believed it to be much nearer

Timbuktu, but he had not taken any astronomical observations, and he

had made a mistake of a day in his journal. This rectification will

appear somewhat tardy after the articles published on his return in

the newspapers, and in the Bulletin of the _Comité de L’Afrique

française_, which led to its being supposed that Farca is on the

outskirts of the last French post in the Sudan. Had this been so,

the results of our expedition would have been greatly minimized. _Suum

cuique._

On the subject of the recognition of the French protectorate by

the people of Farca, there must have been, to say the least, a very

great error of interpretation. Our readers have been able to discover

for themselves that unfortunately French influence does not extend

so far. Indeed, the hostile attitude of the people of Sinder, who

are the relations and feudal superiors of those of Farca, and who

attacked Captain Toutée, would have been enough to prove it without

anything else.]

[Footnote 10: The occupation of Say is now an accomplished fact,

and Amadu has fled in a north-westerly direction; but the French

must be more than ever careful to be on their guard against his

forces, aided by those of the Emir of Sokoto. We must be especially

on the watch against offensive action on the part of Samory, for

does not a certain section of the English press talk of arming and

rousing against us that monster in human form who under pretext of

a holy war is responsible for the destruction of thousands of his

fellow-creatures?]

[Footnote 11: Louis Blanc, ‘Histoire de Dix Ans.’ The sentence

quoted is quite untranslatable, but “We don’t care a rap for

you,” perhaps fairly represents it.—Trans.]

[Footnote 12: I must add that of the 373 miles of railway that I ask

for, 125 are already made, and are in full work, so that the worst

difficulties are overcome.]

Transcriber's note:

pg 120 Changed: of the Tauregs to: Tuaregs

pg 121 Changed: letter from Sakhuai to: Sakhaui

pg 200 Changed: the Tauregs alone to: Tuaregs

pg 428 Changed: In is, in fact to: It is

pg 516 Changed: Galan to: Galam

Other spelling inconsistencies have been left unchanged.