One morning, when I was walking along the Marina, I met a man who had

been a fellow-passenger with me from England, and who had come out

to Lagos to take home a coffin-ship that belonged to the Colonial

Government, so that she might be broken up and sold for fire-wood. This

individual had occupied the same cabin with me on the voyage out, and

had kept me quite lively and exercised my mind a good deal during the

trip. One night, when everybody on board, except the watch, was buried

in sleep, I was awakened by hearing somebody cursing and swearing in

a loud voice close at hand. I looked over the side of my bunk, and,

by the faint light of a lamp that was burning in the saloon, I saw my

cabin companion, stark naked, foaming at the mouth, and stropping one

of my razors upon his fore-arm amid torrents of oaths. Presently he

said:--

“I’ll have some d----d fellow’s blood to-night. I’ll have some blood.”

And he rolled his frenzied eye round the cabin.

I did not make any remark. I did not want to remind him that my blood

was pretty handy, because I had no weapon with me in my bunk more

formidable than a pillow; so I lay quiet. He kept on stropping the

razor, cursing to himself, and repeating that what his soul craved for

was gore, for about ten minutes, then he suddenly hurled his weapon

across the cabin, and rushed out just as he was. I skipped out of my

berth with some alacrity, picked up my razor and locked it up; after

which I felt rather safer, as I knew he had none of his own. Then I

put on some clothes and went to look after the maniac; but, after

searching all over the ship without success, I consoled myself with the

thought that he had probably jumped overboard, and went to bed again.

Next morning, when I awoke, I found my friend clothed and in his right

mind, and thought I must have been suffering from night-mare; so I said

nothing to him about what had occurred.

Ten or twelve days after this I was awakened in the middle of the night

by some one clutching at my throat. I sprang up with a yell and struck

out, fortunately hitting my assailant somewhere, and, as the ship

happened to be rolling heavily, he lost his equilibrium and tumbled

over. He was up again in a moment, and came at me brandishing a water

bottle.

He said:--

“Give me my ship’s papers.”

I seized my pillow, and replied:--

“I haven’t got your papers. Stew-a-a-rd.”

“Give me my papers, or I’ll do for you.”

“Don’t be a fool--I don’t know anything about your papers. STEWARD.”

He threw the bottle at me, fortunately, instead of hitting me with

it; and tried to do the throttling business again. Then a very pretty

little struggle commenced up and down the cabin, we being thrown from

side to side with every lurch, while boxes, tumblers, boots, clothes,

and all kinds of loose furniture, went flying around. At last some

of the other passengers appeared to have a dim consciousness that

something was occurring, and appeared rubbing their eyes; and when

they grasped the situation we soon had our friend tied up, biting and

scratching like a wild cat. I told the captain next day I would prefer

to sleep in some other cabin.

For the rest of the voyage this man appeared quite sane, and when I met

him, as I have said, on the Marina, he came up to me, shook hands, and

conversed like any rational being. He had brought his vessel alongside

a wharf, and was tilting her over to try and get at some of the worst

leaks and stop them up. Some of the guys he had out were very much

worn, and I said that if he did not take care he would capsize his

ship. This innocent remark set him off at once; he became purple in

the face, foamed at the mouth, gesticulated violently, cursed at me,

and was only prevented from proceeding to further extremities by my

rapid exit. Next day his ship did capsize. He sailed from Lagos soon

after, and I have been told that neither he nor his vessel have ever

been heard of since. In any other part of the world but West Africa

such a man as this would have been kept under restraint. His fits of

mania were, I believe, the result of sun-stroke.

I was out driving round the town with a German friend one day when he

pulled up at an inclosure, and said he would show me something that

I would not see anywhere else on the coast. He took me in and showed

me a merry-go-round, and I was sufficiently surprised to gratify him.

What could have induced any one to bring such a thing out to West

Africa? It was one of the old kind, worked by hand; an organ stood by,

and I could almost imagine I smelt the sawdust and gingerbread, and

heard the shouts and cries with which such machines were associated

in my memory. I believe the speculation did not pay, the natives all

wanted to ride for nothing, and the Europeans did not want to ride at

all. The yard was full of Yoruba women, looking with wistful eyes at

the wooden horses and triumphal cars, so we hired the whole coach of

the proprietor for half-an-hour, and told all the women to get up on

it. It was a most anomalous sight to see all these Mohammedan women,

with their shawled heads, floating cloths, and long slim limbs, going

round and round to the tune of Champagne Charlie. They seemed to enjoy

it very much, and their bright eyes sparkled with fun; they were so

grateful that I believe they would have done anything for us, even

kiss us, if we had wanted them to. Some of them were by no means bad

looking, and the custom they have of touching up the eyes with _kohl_

gives them a rather languishing appearance.

The British first became mixed up in the affairs of Lagos after the

repulse of the Dahoman army from Abbeokuta, which I have narrated

in a former chapter. After that event the King of Dahomey commenced

intrigues with the kings of Porto Novo and of Lagos with a view to

cutting off the Abbeokutans from all communication with the sea, he

believing that they received assistance there, both in money and

weapons, from the British. These two potentates fell the more readily

into his plans because they were both interested in the maintenance

of the slave-trade, while the Egbas were anxious for its suppression.

The river Ogu is navigable for canoes to within a mile of Abbeokuta,

and, as it discharges itself into the sea at Lagos, that town may be

said to be the natural port of Abbeokuta. Owing to differences however

with Kosoko, the king of Lagos, a bloodthirsty despot who had dethroned

his uncle Akitoye and murdered some two thousand of his friends and

adherents in cold blood, the Egbas of Abbeokuta had been obliged to

use Badagry, a small independent township some thirty-five miles to

the west of Lagos, as their port; doing so at great inconvenience to

themselves, as communication between Abbeokuta and Badagry could only

be carried on by means of difficult roads, over which all goods and

produce had to be carried upon the heads of men and women.

In June, 1851, Kosoko, in accordance with instructions received from

the king of Dahomey, sent up a number of men to attack Badagry, at

which town Akitoye the ex-king of Lagos was residing, and where there

were also several British residents. The enemy were repulsed, and

returned to Lagos, destroying on their way back an out-lying village

of Badagry, named Susu. During the rest of the month of June, Kosoko’s

people kept Badagry in a state of blockade, and occasionally landed

marauding parties at night. During one of these night-alarms a Mr. Gee,

an Englishman, was killed, and several Kroomen employed by the British

traders were kidnapped. Things went on thus until July, early in which

month a number of Lagos people came up to Badagry, under the pretence

of trading or visiting their friends, and were suffered to land. On

going ashore they proceeded to the market, which was crowded, the day

being market-day, and at once picking a quarrel with some of Akitoye’s

followers they threw off the mask and a fight commenced. The town of

Badagry was burned to the ground, and a great deal of British property

was destroyed.

The senior naval officer on the station being informed of this outrage

felt it his duty to endeavour to obtain redress from Kosoko, and terms

were dictated to him. After much delay and duplicity on the part of the

king, it became evident that he had no intention of yielding except to

force, and it was finally determined to bombard his town.

The naval force, consisting of Her Majesty’s sloops “Philomel,”

“Harlequin,” “Niger,” and “Waterwitch,” and the gun-vessels

“Bloodhound” and “Volcano,” assembled off Lagos bar in November 1851;

and at daybreak on the 25th of that month the ships’ boats, manned and

armed, and towed by the “Bloodhound,” entered the river and proceeded

towards Lagos. As the consul still had some hope of the king submitting

to a display of force, the flags of truce were kept flying; and,

although, on rounding the first point, the enemy opened a harassing

fire of musketry along the right bank of the river, the fire was not

returned, and the boats kept steadily on, with the flags flying, until

they arrived at about a mile from the town.

There the “Bloodhound” got aground in the mud, and the enemy’s fire

increased, the shot falling fast and thick among the boats. The boom of

heavy ordnance showed that Kosoko was much better prepared for defence

than had been supposed; the flags of truce were hauled down, and the

British, for the first time, opened fire.

The enemy were mustered in great force, and, being armed with good

muskets, kept up an incessant fire from behind stockades and mud-walls

upon the boats. They even endeavoured to send a body of men across the

river in canoes so as to take the British in rear, but this movement

was at once intercepted.

The fire from the boats producing but little effect, it was determined

to land a party. The boats accordingly pulled in simultaneously for one

spot, and about 160 men were landed, the remainder guarding the boats.

The natives made a most determined resistance and an exceedingly

skilful use of the advantages of their position. The town, or at least

that part of it where the seamen landed, consisted of narrow streets

intersecting each other in every direction. The British were thus

exposed to a flanking fire down every street which debouched on the

line of advance; and the natives, when driven from one post, ran by

back-alleys to take up a new position further on. After advancing some

three hundred yards, and finding the resistance by no means diminished,

but, on the contrary, that the number of opponents increased at every

turning, and having already suffered a loss of two officers killed and

seven men wounded, it was determined that to continue the advance would

be imprudent. All the neighbouring houses were therefore set on fire,

and the force returned to the boats, and thence to the “Bloodhound.”

The fire continued to burn with great fury for some hours, and two

heavy explosions were heard; but there was no wind, and the houses

destroyed formed but a very small portion of the whole town.

In consequence of this repulse the attack of Lagos in force was

ordered, and it was determined to dethrone Kosoko and to replace

Akitoye on the throne. A naval force was concentrated, consisting of

the “Sampson,” “Penelope,” “Bloodhound,” and “Teazer,” the whole being

under the command of Commodore H. W. Bruce. On December 24th, 1851, the

boats crossed the bar, and the “Bloodhound” dropped up the river with

the tide to reconnoitre. Three guns from the south end of the island

opened on her but did no damage, for the fire, though exceedingly well

directed, was faulty in elevation.

The plan of attack arranged was that the boats should pass the lines

of defence as quickly as possible, go round the northern point of

the island, and there make the bombardment, where Kosoko and the

principal slave-dealers resided. The line of sea-defence extended from

the southern point of the island to the northern, along the western

front, a distance of nearly two miles. In parts, where the water was

sufficiently deep for boats to land, stakes in double rows had been

planted in six feet of water, and along the whole of the distance

an embankment and ditch for the protection of infantry had been

constructed; while at special points exceedingly strong stockades, made

of stout cocoa-nut trees, were erected for guns.

On the 26th at daybreak the “Bloodhound” proceeded up the river

with the boats of the “Sampson” in two divisions, the one in front

the other following. The “Teazer” followed with the boats of the

“Penelope” similarly arranged, and accompanied by the consul’s iron

boat “Victoria,” fitted for rockets. The enemy immediately opened a

heavy fire of guns and musketry, the whole line of the embankment being

filled with men, of whom nothing was visible but the muzzles of their

muskets. The fire was returned from the British guns, but produced

little effect, as the shot could not do much injury to the green wood

of the stockades.

In trying to get round the northern point of the island with her

division of boats the “Bloodhound” grounded. As the tide was falling

it was impossible to get her off; but her guns, opening fire, silenced

a battery of the enemy which was abreast of her, though nothing could

silence the furious fusilade of musketry. A slight breeze springing up

at this time it was seen from the “Bloodhound” that the “Teazer” was

also aground, nearly in the same position as the former vessel was at

the attack of November 25th.

Abreast of the “Teazer” was a battery, which her solitary 32-pounder

contrived for some time to keep in check; but it was not long before

two other guns were brought to a stockade, and opened fire from a

position which was quite unassailable from the “Teazer.” These guns

were admirably served, and Captain Lyster of the “Penelope,” who was

in command of the “Teazer” and her division of boats, seeing that the

vessel would be inevitably destroyed before she could be got off at

high tide if the enemy’s fire were not silenced, determined to land and

carry the guns. The eight boats which had accompanied the “Teazer” were

formed in line, and pulled in directly for the stockade, which appeared

to be the best spot for landing. As the boats touched the shore a

tremendous discharge was poured into them; but the men formed up on the

beach, and entered the stockade, from which the enemy retreated into

the bush, which was close in rear. Lieutenant Corbett rushed ahead and

spiked the guns.

The object of the landing being thus accomplished, the party retired to

re-embark, when it was discovered that during the confusion which had

naturally taken place, on landing under a severe fire, one of the boats

had been taken by the enemy, a party of whom were seen at a little

distance taking her towards the guns which had first opened fire on the

“Teazer.” As it was necessary to re-take her, the men hurriedly ran to

the other boats to go in pursuit. The crew of the captured boat, sixty

in number, having nothing in which to embark, crowded round the other

boats, which became overloaded, and some delay and confusion ensued in

consequence. No sooner did the natives perceive this than they came

down from the bush in swarms, pouring in a most destructive fire at a

distance of a few yards. Two seamen who were unable to find room in the

boats were seized and dragged up the beach, their heads being instantly

lopped off under the very eyes of their comrades, and their bodies,

horribly mutilated, thrown down again to the water’s edge.

The boats at last shoved off, and it was then seen that there was

something wrong with the “Victoria,” which was close to the shore.

On pulling back it was discovered that the anchor had been let go

without orders. It was impossible to slip the cable, as it was of chain

and clinched to the bottom of the boat, and there seemed to be no

alternative but to leave her in the hands of the natives, when suddenly

Lieutenant Corbett, who had received a severe wound on shore which

rendered his right arm almost useless, ran to the stern, and, under a

heavy fire, cut the chain-cable with a cold chisel. While so doing he

received five different gun-shot wounds.

The “Victoria” was now got off, but the British loss had been so heavy,

amounting to one officer and thirteen men killed, and four officers

and fifty-eight men wounded, that it was not considered advisable to

make any attempt to recover the lost boat, and the boats returned to

the “Teazer.” Scarcely had they reached her than some forty or fifty of

the natives got into the captured boat, and started as if to attack the

vessel. They paid dearly for their audacity; for a rocket fired from

the “Teazer” entered her magazine and she at once blew up. At sunset

the “Teazer” was got off with the rising tide, and anchored out of

gun-shot for the night.

In the meantime the “Bloodhound” and the boats of her division had been

warmly engaged. At 10 a.m. Lieutenant Saumarez had been despatched with

five boats round the north-eastern point, to ascertain the strength

and position of the guns on that side of the island. A fire from four

guns strongly stockaded was immediately opened; and was returned from

the boats with such effect as to upset and turn out of its carriage one

of these guns. The object of the movement having been obtained, the

boats were recalled.

The fire from the embankment abreast of the “Bloodhound” still

continued, and, about 2·30 p.m., it being observed that the enemy were

trying to bring several guns into position there, Lieutenant Saumarez

was sent with the boats of the “Sampson” to try and spike them. It

was found impossible for them to make their way through the hail of

missiles showered upon them, and they returned, with the loss of one

officer killed and ten men severely wounded.

Next morning the “Teazer” got into the proper channel. A flanking fire

was opened on the western part of the enemy’s defences, and rockets

were thrown into the town. At about 11 a.m. a rocket was thrown into a

battery below the house of Tappa, Kosoko’s principal chief and adviser.

A tremendous explosion ensued, which was followed by an interval of

dead silence, then house after house caught fire, and the town was

shortly in a general blaze. The enemy’s fire at once slackened, and

then stopped; and the Commodore, being unwilling to do further damage,

ceased firing, and sent a summons to Kosoko to surrender.

Next day, Sunday, no reply had been received; and, during the whole of

the day, canoes were observed crossing from the north-east of Lagos to

the island of Echalli, laden with furniture and household goods. This

was allowed to go on without molestation, and in the afternoon it was

learned that Kosoko and his followers had abandoned the island.

A party was landed to spike guns and instal Akitoye as king, and it

was then found that a creek and swamp, running about two hundred

yards inland, had checked the flames and saved the eastern portion of

the town. The defences were most ingeniously planned. The beach was

strongly stockaded, with a ditch outside; and at every promontory was

an enfilading piece of ordnance. Fifty-two guns were in all captured.

King Docemo succeeded Akitoye, and in 1861 Lagos was acquired by treaty

with that king, who handed it over to the British in return for a

pension of £1,000 a year. Badagry and Catanoo on the west, and Palma

and Leckie on the east, form integral portions of the settlement; and,

though we have no authority for so doing, jurisdiction is exercised

over the intervening sea-board; and, to a certain extent, over the

adjacent country, inhabited by tribes with whom we have made treaties.

The town of Catanoo was acquired in January, 1880. It lies on the

sea-board, immediately opposite the independent kingdom of Porto Novo,

on the northern bank of the lagoon of the same name. The king of that

state was formerly a source of tribulation to the revenue officers of

Lagos; as, when Catanoo was independent, he could there land exciseable

articles free of duty, which were afterwards smuggled with wonderful

facility into British territory by lagoon. In addition to this, he

and his subjects were continually interfering with and molesting the

peaceable Mohammedan traders; so the inhabitants of Catanoo were

persuaded to hoist the British flag, and now the Porto Novo potentate

has to proceed as far west as Whydah to import his rum if he wishes to

avoid paying customs dues.

CHAPTER VI.

Leeches--Ikorudu--A Blue-blood Negro--Badagry--Flying

Foxes--Fetishes--A Smuggler entrapped--Floating Islands--Porto

Novo--Thirsty Gods--Cruel Kindness.

While at Lagos I heard that there was one of those fortified Mohammedan

towns, peculiar to the interior of Western Africa, some eighteen miles

to the north-east of the island. I had never seen one of these towns,

so I hired a boat and a guide, and started early one morning for this

particular one, which was named Ikorudu. We paddled along the lagoon

for some distance, until we had passed the mouth of the river Ogu, and

then the canoe-men ran the canoe into the mud of a mangrove swamp,

and the guide said I was to disembark. I remarked that I did not see

any path, and that if I had known that I should have to wade about in

liquid mud I would have brought some stilts, but he said the road was

better after a little distance, so I got on the shoulders of one of the

men and waded ashore.

We walked on along a track three or four inches deep with sticky mud,

through an immense swamp. Far away into the gloomy shadows of the bush

stretched shallow pools of muddy water, in which the hideous mangrove

stretched out its distorted limbs, while the mangrove fish leaped off

the roots of the trees and skipped away across the surface of the

water at our approach. Suddenly my foot slipped from under me, and I

slid along for some distance, only to be brought up violently against

a mangrove stump. I rubbed my knee, and anathematised the mud _sotto

voce_. I had hardly moved two paces further when the ground seemed to

be cut away from under my feet, and I fell into the arms of my guide.

He said--

“You will have to be careful where you tread here.”

I replied:--“So it seems.”

“Yes, there are a lot of them about this morning.”

I asked him what he meant, and he answered by placing a foot on a

brown object in the mud and skating along over it. I examined this

object, and saw a flattened leech. The swamp was full of these things:

thousands of them clustered round the roots of the mangroves, millions

lay in the mud covered by the shallow water, and hundreds of them were

taking a morning walk over the path. I saw a canoe-man detach one from

his ankle and another from the calf of his log, so I took the hint

and tucked my trousers into my boots. There were enough leeches here

to phlebotomise the whole human race, and I thought of returning

to England at once, and starting a Company, to be called the Grand

International Leech Supply, for furnishing every household with these

domestic creatures. As it is I give the idea, gratis, to any one of a

speculative turn of mind.

After walking two miles over and through leeches we reached Ikorudu.

The town is surrounded by a high and thick swish wall, which is

loopholed, and has flanking bastions at irregular intervals; ingress

is only obtainable by passing through doorways into swish houses, the

floors of the upper rooms of which are loopholed, so that fire can be

brought to bear upon the approach below. At one entrance I saw a kind

of machicoulis gallery; and considering that the Egbas, against whom

these defences were constructed, have no artillery, the place seemed

tolerably strong. A broad and deep ditch encircles the whole town.

In 1865 or 1866 an army of twelve thousand Egbas besieged this place,

and threw up two entrenched camps in its neighbourhood. The Ikorudans

applied to the Government of Lagos for assistance, and the Fifth

West India regiment, with the Lagos Police, numbering in all less

than five hundred bayonets, were sent to their relief. This handful

of men gallantly stormed the entrenchments and completely routed the

enemy with heavy loss. To properly estimate this victory it must be

remembered that the Fifth West India regiment was not in reality a

West India regiment, properly trained and disciplined, but an African

regiment, raised entirely from the Yomba and Houssa tribes in and about

Lagos, and bearing a very close resemblance to the present Houssa

Constabulary. This old habit of entitling African corps West India

regiments has led to many unfortunate mistakes, from which the two

_bonâ fide_ West India regiments suffer sometimes even at the present

day.

Shortly after this Ikorudu trip I took advantage of the sailing of

a small steamer belonging to a mercantile firm at Lagos to proceed

to Badagry, which lies to the west, up the Victoria lagoon. It is

thirty-three miles from Lagos as the crow flies, but the tortuous

nature of the only navigable channel makes the distance very much

greater for bipeds not possessed of wings. At 6 a.m. our small craft

cast off from the pier, and steamed away in the teeth of the fresh

morning breeze, which rippled the surface of the lagoon and fanned our

grateful faces. The channel which we followed was generally narrow,

though here and there the shores receded and left wide reaches of

shallow water, dotted with numerous small wooded islands. In such parts

the view was very pretty; and the numerous canoes, bound for Lagos

with native produce, paddled or poled along by brown-skinned men in

loose garbs of brilliant colours, added the requisite life and colour

to the scene. Numbers of crocodiles were seen basking on the banks of

the islets or the shores of the lagoon, frightening the white cranes

and flamingoes as they waddled with a splash into the water on the

approach of the steamer. Two would-be sportsmen on board fired several

shots at these saurians with those cheap German rifles, which are

manufactured by persons who seem to think that back-sights are merely

an ornamental appendage. Naturally they wounded nothing more vulnerable

than the water or bush.

While we were steaming along a mulatto gentleman came up and entered

into conversation with me. He commenced by saying that he supposed I

was a stranger, and, after cross-examining me as to my business in

Lagos, expatiated upon the scenery, civilisation, and delights of that

settlement. After a little he said--

“You may have heard of me; my name is Pilot.”

I replied, “Oh! indeed, you’re the pilot are you? What depth of water

have we here?”

“No, no, my dear Sir. You are quite mistaken. I am above menial

pursuits of that nature. My name is Pilate. P-i-l-a-t-e.”

“Ah! really. It is a pretty name.”

He smiled a sweetly-satisfied smile, and continued.

“Yes, pretty, but more than pretty--it is historical. You have, of

course, heard of my ancestor?”

“N--no. I don’t remember just now.”

“What? Never heard of Pontius Pilate?”

“Pontius Pilate? Oh, yes--died of a skin disease, didn’t he?”

He approached me with a proud and stately stride, and, tapping his

manly bosom with a forefinger, said, in a voice thick with emotion, or

something stronger--

“That man was my ancestor. I am proud of it. But for him there would

have been no sacrifice of the blood of the lamb, and no atonement. He

was the greatest benefactor that mankind ever saw, and I--I am his

descendant. I am proud of it.”

I said: “This is very interesting--I should like to see your pedigree.”

“Ah! I regret to say that the family records have been sadly

neglected--but I have the skin disease of which you spoke. It is

hereditary.”

I moved a little further off.

He continued: “Yes, I have the skin disease. It is a proof of what I

tell you. Would you like to see it?”

“N--no thanks; I’m afraid I haven’t time just now.”

“It is a sad infliction, but I bear it. Yes, I bear it because

it is the Lord’s will. The only thing that gives me any relief is

brandy--Have you any about you?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Rum, perhaps?”

“No, nothing of that kind.”

“Dear, dear--Pardon this spasm, it will be over in a minute. Perhaps

the sailors have some. Will you lend me a shilling, and I will go and

inquire?”

His spasms must have come on very badly after he left, for in about

half-an-hour’s time I saw him ardently hugging a stanchion, and

apparently trying to tie a true lover’s knot with his legs. I inquired

who he was, and learned that he was a gentleman at large. I was much

surprised; I should certainly have taken him to be a native missionary

from his manner.

We arrived at Badagry about 10 a.m. The lagoon here is 600 yards wide

and 24 feet deep, and the sand-ridge which separates it from the sea

measures one-third of a mile in breadth. I should imagine that Badagry

is not a healthy place of residence; it is low-lying and swampy, and

sanitary considerations have evidently never been taken into account.

In fact sanitary law is a dead letter on the whole of the West Coast

of Africa, with the exception of Sierra Leone, and the most ordinary

and necessary precautions are neglected, while the natives are allowed

to indulge in the filthiest habits unchecked. Imagine an English town

with its drainage system cut off, and the inhabitants permitted to

accumulate offal and refuse of every indescribable kind around their

dwellings; then add a supply of dysenteric water, and a tropical sun to

make all the rubbish-heaps fester and grow corrupt; throw in a climate

that is unequalled for deadliness, and you will have a very fair idea

of a British settlement on the Gold Coast. Dozens of lives are yearly

sacrificed on that coast to the apathy of the Government, which will

not compel the natives to adopt more cleanly habits of life.

The first thing that struck me on going ashore at Badagry was a stone,

which descended with some force from a tall tree; and I was looking

round for a safe object on which to vent my wrath, when one of the

sportsmen from the steamer came and made profuse apologies for the

accident. I asked him what he was throwing at, and he, being a German,

replied:

“I drow at de grickeds.”

This seemed so incomprehensible that I was going to give up attempting

the solution when he exclaimed:--

“No, no--Not grickeds--badts. I know he vas something that you plays in

de game. Dey are dere,” and he pointed up to the tree.

I looked up and saw what at first sight appeared like a cluster of

rabbit-skins hung up to dry: they were flying foxes. I looked round,

and found almost every tree similarly adorned. But for an occasional

movement of the head, or the winking of an eye, one might have imagined

they were dead, they remained so still. The sportsman was very eager to

fire into the group, being only deterred from so doing by the fear of

their being fetish, and while he was endeavouring to satisfy himself on

this point I went away.

The inhabitants of Badagry are apparently a very religious people,

for I do not remember ever to have seen so many fetishes of different

sorts in so small a town. Scattered generally about the streets and

courtyards are hundreds of small sheds, open in front, with thatched

roofs and bamboo walls. Each of these contains a graceful figure,

fashioned of clay into a semblance of the human form; and the faces of

these gods are fearfully and wonderfully made. The eyes are represented

by large cowries, the hair by feathers, and the gash which takes the

place of the mouth is garnished with the teeth of dogs, sharks, goats,

leopards, and men. A nose was too great a flight of genius for the

native sculptors, and they had satisfied themselves by boring two

little holes for nostrils and leaving the rest of the organ to be

understood. I noticed one deity whose head was covered with the red

tail-feathers of parrots, and the captain of the steamer said that the

people had put this up after having seen a red-haired trader who had

once paid them a visit.

While wandering about I discovered a thick growth of trees and bushes

inclosed with a bamboo fence; this was the great fetish-ground of

Badagry, and I proceeded to pull down a piece of the fence, and look

in. I saw inside the usual heap of rubbish, broken pots, broken knives,

broken stools, and human skulls, and, in addition, spear-heads, arrows,

and bamboo shields. I thought I would like to take a few of these

things away as curios, and had begun pulling down more of the fence,

so that I might pass through, when I was disturbed by hearing somebody

shout:

“Heigh, you there! You bess stop that.”

I looked round and observed a negro, attired in European apparel,

rapidly coming towards me. He seemed very much alarmed, and said:

“These people here are very partic’lar ’bout their fetish. If they was

to see you now they would kill you p’raps.”

I said--“Bosh: this town belongs to the English.”

“I tell you for true, Sir. Myself I’m Christian like you: I follow

the Lord; I don’t care for fetish. But these people here are very

bad people, very partic’lar. If they see you, you will catch plenty

trouble.”

I suffered myself to be persuaded and went away to have lunch with the

Commandant. During the meal I said what a pity it was I could not get

some of those arrows and spear-heads out of the inclosure. He seemed

surprised and asked:

“What is there to prevent you?”

“Why, the natives would make a row.”

“They? Why they wouldn’t care if you carted the whole lot out.”

I thought I had been hearing rather contradictory evidence, so I told

him about my interview with the Christian negro who had hindered me

from committing sacrilege. He listened with great attention, and

finally asked:

“Was this man tall?”

“Yes.”

“Was he fat?”

“Yes.”

“Was he very ugly?”

“Yes.”

“Had he got a strawberry ...? No, I don’t mean that. Had he lost some

of his front teeth?”

“Yes.”

Then the Commandant heaved a sigh of relief, and sent for a sergeant of

police. When that myrmidon arrived he told him that he thought that Mr.

W---- was caught at last; and directed him to take three or four men,

and go and see if he could find anything in the fetish ground. While we

were waiting to see the upshot of this search the Commandant informed

me that my Christian friend, Mr. W----, was a notorious smuggler, who

was famed for the facility with which he robbed Her Majesty’s Customs.

In about a quarter of an hour a procession, bearing some forty or fifty

demijohns of rum, marched into the yard; and the sergeant informed us

that he had left a man in charge of as much more. All this spirit had

been smuggled from Porto Novo, and then hidden in the fetish-ground,

where no native wandering in the outer darkness of unbelief would dare

to venture; but which my Christian friend, who like all such negroes

had repudiated the fetish moral, or immoral, code without adopting any

other in its place, had no scruple about making use of. No wonder he

was anxious that I should not outrage the religious prejudices of the

Badagrans. I met him afterwards, and he called me names, and was good

enough to say that my idle curiosity had caused him to lose more money

than I had ever possessed or could dream of possessing. Such are the

usual conversational pleasantries of negro traders.

From Badagry I went on to Porto Novo, which lies seventeen miles

further to the west, or fifty miles in all from Lagos. A curious

feature of the lagoon between Badagry and Porto Novo is the large

number of floating grass islands which one passes. Some of them have

sufficient stability to admit of persons walking about on them, and,

were they but cultivated, would be not unlike the _chinampas_ of the

Aztecs on the lake of Mexico. They impede the navigation a good deal,

as no steamer could force its way through them, and _détours_ have

to be made to avoid them, which frequently result in the repose of a

sand-bank being rudely disturbed by the stem of an erring vessel. When

disembarking from the steamer at Porto Novo I landed on one of these

islands, about two acres in extent, and walked across it, sending the

boat round to the opposite side. It seemed quite firm underfoot, except

at the edges, and was covered with soil four or five inches deep,

bearing a luxuriant crop of grass. It was kept afloat by an underlying

mass of matted rushes, canes, and succulent grass, from three to four

feet thick, but how the earth got on the top of this I do not know.

This island was larger and more substantial than most, but all break

up very rapidly in the mimic storms which occasionally vex the placid

waters of the lagoon.

The town of Porto Novo is built on the eastern portion of the Porto

Novan lagoon, which is here two miles and a-half in breadth; and some

high ground, not elsewhere to be found for scores of miles along the

Slave Coast, lies a little to the north of it, and forms a pleasing

change in the dull level of the surrounding country. The town itself

is as dirty and irregular as most native ones, and there is nothing

to be seen worth mentioning but the _palace_ of the king, who is, on

a smaller scale, an irresponsible and bloodthirsty despot like his

friend and ally the King of Dahomey. The royal residence is surrounded

by a swish wall, loopholed for musketry and protected by a ditch: it

includes, too, buildings for the accommodation of the four or five

hundred wives, slaves, dependents, and retainers of his majesty. It

is entered by means of a gateway through a house built of sun-dried

bricks, with windows on the upper story only, looking outwards; a

massive and iron-studded door, with three or four loopholes cut in it,

seems to show that the king scarcely considers himself safe from attack

even at home.

Opposite to the palace-gate stands a row of fetish-sheds containing

specimens of the sculptor’s high art similar to those at Badagry; but

here the natives are more attentive to the wants of their deities,

and, though they do not give them anything to eat, because food costs

money, or rather cowries, they are careful to place before each a brass

pan full of water, which is popularly believed to be a more wholesome

beverage for gods than rum, and costs nothing more than the trouble of

drawing it. Standing in the full glare of the sun, these pans naturally

become empty in the course of time through evaporation, which fact the

natives explain by saying that the fetishes drink it, and it is to them

ocular proof of the existence and material being of their deities.

Next to the fetish huts is the shed for human sacrifices, to which

West African pastime the King of Porto Novo is as partial as the

comparatively limited number of his subjects will allow. It reeks with

blotches of black and clotted blood, covered with thousands of hungry

flies, and is furnished with headsman’s blocks made of a hard and dark

wood. A communicative Porto Novan, who was a shopman in one of the

French factories in the town, and had been showing me all these sights,

pointed to these blocks, and said in French:

“We are always spoken of by you English at Lagos as a cruel people, but

these are a proof to the contrary.”

I said, “I should have arrived at an exactly opposite opinion.”

“Ah! then you have not observed closely, Monsieur. Do you not see that

each block is hollowed out, so that the man to be beheaded may rest his

chin and breast on it in comfort?”

“Yes, I see that.”

“Well that proves that we are considerate and kind.”

“You are pleased to be facetious.”

“Far from it, Monsieur, I am serious. I have to repeat that it proves

that we are considerate and kind.”

“Does it?”

“Yes. How do you English sacrifice?”

“We don’t sacrifice at all,” I replied.

“Pardon, Monsieur, you hang. And how do you hang? With the absence of

gentleness the most great. You bind hand and foot; you do not study the

comfort of the man to be put to death.”

“No, not much.”

“Ah! you acknowledge it. Yes, yes; only when you have provided chairs

for your people to be sacrificed will you have arrived to our high

perception of kindness.”

CHAPTER VII.

The Niger Delta--Gloomy Region--Cannibals--King

Pepple--Bonny-town--Rival Chiefs--Dignitaries of the

Church--Missions--Curlews--A Night Adventure--A Bonny _Bonne

Bouche_.

From Lagos I went on to the Oil Rivers, as the numerous outlets in the

Niger delta are termed. The Nun mouth is now the recognised entrance

of the Niger; its ten western openings are Benin, Escardos, Forcardos,

Ramos, Dodo, Pennington, and Middleton rivers, Blind Creek, and

Winstanley and Sengana outfalls, and its nine eastern are Brass River

or Rio Bento, San Nicolas, Santa Barbara, Sombreiro, San Bartolomeo,

New Calabar, Bonny, Antonio, and Opobo rivers. The New Calabar and the

Bonny or Obané Rivers discharge into one estuary; and some authorities

consider that the latter is not an outfall of the Niger at all.

The trade in these rivers is almost entirely in British hands, and

regular trading stations are found at Bonny, New Calabar, Brass, Opobo,

and Benin. The natives are independent of British rule, but from time

to time treaties have been made for the regulation of trade, and for

the protection of traders. In each river or outfall the traders form a

Court of Arbitration, which settles all trade disputes arising between

themselves and the natives; and cases of moment are submitted to the

consul of the Bights of Benin and Biafra, who resides in the island of

Fernando Po. The principal exports are palm-oil, kernels, camwood, and

ivory, and it is from the immense quantities of the first commodity

annually shipped to England, and there used in the manufacture of tin,

butter, soap, and pomade, that the title of Oil Rivers is derived.

It would be difficult to imagine a more depressing and gloomy region

than that of the delta of the Niger. On all sides, as far as the

eye can reach, one sees nothing but swamp after swamp of countless

mangroves, intersected in every direction by foul creeks of reeking

and muddy water; while, when the tide is out, vast expanses of black,

slimy mud, on which hideous crocodiles bask, are exposed to the sun.

It is indeed a horrible and loathsome tract, and it is a matter for

wonder that Europeans can be found willing to pass the best years of

their lives in such a place. Yet such is the case, and though a large

percentage of the white residents annually succumb to the pestilential

climate, and all suffer more or less from its effects, the survivors

jog along uncomplainingly, and some even seem in a measure to enjoy

their existence--one can hardly call it life.

Wherever any dry land is found on the banks of these rivers, there

are established native towns; and opposite these are moored the hulks

in which the traders live. Some of these hulks have been fine vessels

in their day, and all are very comfortably fitted up and roofed over:

the finest is that of the African Steamship Company, the “Adriatic,”

which formerly belonged to the White Star Company, and is now moored in

Bonny river. Morning after morning the Europeans doomed to a wretched

existence in these floating prisons wake up with a feeling of weariness

and depression, and look out daily on the same muddy river with its

banks of reeking ooze and interminable mangrove swamps. At night time

the miasma creeps up from every creek and gradually enfolds all objects

in a damp white shroud; while the croaking of the bull-frogs, the cry

of a night-bird, and the lapping of the restless tide against the sides

of the hulk, are the only sounds that break the oppressive silence.

If ever a man were justified in seeking consolation from the flowing

bowl it would be in these rivers, which used to be the habitat of the

Palm Oil Ruffian, a creature that would not have been tolerated even

in Alsatia; but the _genus_ is now rapidly dying out, and soon bids

fair to be classed with the Plesiosaurus and other extinct reptiles.

Death seems ever at hand, and here he does not appear, as in some parts

of West Africa, clothed with sunlight and the beauties of tropical

vegetation, but accompanied by all the imperfections of a sewer-like

and miasmatic swamp.

The natives of the Niger delta are, with the exception of the Boobies

of Fernando Po, the most degraded and barbarous people found on the

West Coast of Africa. They are nearly all cannibals, and devour the

prisoners whom they capture in their internecine wars. The horrible

climate influences even the aborigines, nearly every second man or

woman one sees being covered with sores, or suffering from yaws,

elephantiasis, or some equally loathsome disease; and their religious

belief and fetish customs are tinged with the gloom which seems to

settle over the whole delta.

Very little is known of this part of Africa beyond the actual coast

line and the Niger river, up which steamers ascend for some hundreds

of miles. Between Benin and the Nun mouth the numerous western outlets

have not even been surveyed, and we find on the Admiralty Charts

“natives hostile and cannibals.” In that portion of the delta the

inhabitants will hold no friendly intercourse with white men. Even

in those rivers in which the trading hulks are moored, Europeans

are prevented by the chiefs from ascending the streams; and in the

different treaties there is generally a stipulation that the traders

shall not attempt to go beyond a certain distance. The reason of this

is that the tribes that reside near the mouths of the rivers act as

middle-men to the native oil-traders higher up, and they are afraid

that if we penetrate beyond a short distance we shall be able to

purchase the produce at first hand, and that they will thus lose their

percentage or commission.

The chief town in the delta of the Niger is that of Bonny, of which

George Pepple is the nominal king; he has, however, no power or

influence of any kind, and the real king is old Oko Jumbo, a veteran

chief, who has a large trading establishment by the riverside and is

very rich and prosperous.

George Pepple is like the average of Christianized negroes in West

Africa. A few years ago he was expelled from his kingdom by his

subjects, on account of the trouble he was bringing on the community by

his habit of obtaining goods from the traders and then repudiating the

debt, and went to England to spend the money with which his peculiar

method of doing business had provided him. In England he was baptized

by the Bishop of London, and made much of by undiscriminating persons.

One of his wives had accompanied him, and in London she acquired a

liking for cordial Old Tom, under the influence of which she neglected

to treat her liege lord with that deference which he considered his

due. Under these circumstances George Pepple determined to execute

her, and applied to the Lord Mayor for permission, merely as a matter

of form and to show that he knew what was due to the prejudices of

foreigners. He was much astonished and annoyed when he learned that

such an execution would be deemed a murder, and that the law of England

presumed to interfere in purely domestic episodes of this nature.

Shortly after this Pepple returned to Bonny; but before leaving England

he induced several credulous Englishmen to accompany him, promising

them high and lucrative positions about his court and person, such as

Master of the Horse, Chief Equerry, Groom in Waiting, and so on. After

having made elaborate preparations and being put to the expense of the

journey to Bonny, one can imagine the feelings of these men on finding

that the palace consisted of a mud hut and the kingdom of a few acres

of swamp, even in which limited monarchy his authority was _nil_.

In 1876 Pepple returned to England to try his old plan of obtaining

goods on credit, and was again treated as a great African potentate,

being entertained by the Lord Mayor, and his daily doings being duly

chronicled by the press. He has lately been released from the durance

vile in which his subjects had been keeping him on account of some

misdemeanour, but is still under a cloud, as his peculiarities are so

well known, and he is treated with but scant ceremony by the natives

and traders of Bonny river. As an instance of how little African

royalty is in consonance with European, I may mention that Pepple’s

eldest son was, until very recently, post-master at Accra with a salary

of some 50_l._ a year.

Bonny-town is the worst and dirtiest to be found on the West Coast of

Africa; the houses are small “wattle and daub” structures, and there

are no streets even of the poor description that are found in towns on

the Gold Coast. The huts are scattered about in indescribable confusion

amongst pools of mud, heaps of refuse, and cess-pits; and one cannot

walk more than a few hundred yards in any given direction without

finding a bar to further progress in the shape of a muddy creek. The

Bonny traders do not often honour the town with their presence, nor is

there any inducement for them to do so. The Ju-ju house is the only

“sight” in Bonny. It is a mud hut in a ruinous condition, in which,

piled up in wattle racks, are innumerable human skulls, the remains of

persons who have been sacrificed to the Ju-ju, or fetish. A glimpse of

these, and of a number of rudely-carved wooden idols, can be obtained

by peeping through an aperture in the broken-down wall of the house;

and even this must be done by stealth, as the natives do not care to

have white men prying into the mysteries of their religion; and, being

quite an independent people, they could inflict any fine or punishment

they might think proper on an inquisitive stranger.

The few acres on which Bonny-town is built, a sandy strip at Rough

Corner at the eastern entrance of the river, and about two acres on

Peterside, opposite Bonny-town, is all the dry land to be found within

miles; all else is interminable mangrove swamp, intersected with

creeks, to which the sharks from the river-bar come to breed. Should

a man fall overboard in Bonny river he is never seen again after the

first plunge, and it is supposed that there is a powerful under-current

which tows the body under, though others ascribe its disappearance to

the ubiquitous sharks.

A visitor to Bonny cannot fail to notice the number of old cannon

and carronades lying about uncared-for in the town. These are simply

neglected because they are out of date, for the natives of the Niger

delta, though so behindhand in civilisation, keep up their armament

to the style of the day. There is a battery of four Armstrong guns at

Peterside, where the river is one mile and a-half wide, and there

are several of these guns in Bonny-town. When making war upon another

tribe, the natives dismount these guns and lash them upon a sort of

deck built in the bows of one of their large canoes, which can carry

from thirty to forty persons. The gun then is of course immovable, so

in action the canoe is manœuvred till the piece points in the right

direction, when it is discharged. As they aim point-blank whether the

object aimed at be distant a mile or only a few yards, they do not do

much execution, except by accident. Besides these Armstrongs there

are thousands of breech-loading rifles, Sniders, Martini-Henrys, and

Winchester repeaters, in the hands of the natives, almost every man

possessing one. These are all imported by British merchants, and are

manufactured so cheaply in Birmingham that a trader in the oil rivers

can afford to sell a Snider rifle for 2_l._ and then make a slight

profit. Directly these natives obtain such rifles they want to go and

try their effect on something, and as they are useless for purposes of

sport, except against large game, which is not found in the delta, they

go and rake up some old quarrel with an insignificant tribe, and try

the efficacy of their weapons upon its members. To this cause may be

attributed most of their wars.

Oko Jumbo and Ja-Ja are the rival chiefs of the eastern outfalls of

the Niger; they are both natives of Bonny. Some years back a Government

of four regents, of which Oko Jumbo and Ja-Ja were members, was

established in Bonny. The two rival chiefs each wished to monopolise

the power, quarrels ensued, and finally Ja-Ja seceded and set up a

kingdom for himself. Since then each has been endeavouring to outvie

the other in the completeness of his war material. No sooner did Ja-Ja

hear that his rival at Bonny had Armstrong guns, than he also sent to

England for some. Recently a Gatling gun arrived for him, and the Bonny

natives are now devoured with rage and envy because they have not one.

Oko Jumbo has under his command some 7,000 or 8,000 men, all armed with

breech-loading rifles and well supplied with ammunition; and Ja-Ja can

put about the same number, similarly armed, into the field. The wars

between these chieftains are notorious; one has but lately come to

an end, in which several of Ja-Ja’s wives were captured and eaten by

the enemy, and judging from the past we may expect another war soon.

The bodies of the slain, and some of the prisoners taken, are always

eaten by the combatants, and the remainder of the prisoners are sold

into slavery. I asked Oko Jumbo why they did not eat all the captives,

since they seemed to like that kind of food, and he replied that a

good dinner was all very well in its way, but that it only satisfied

one for a day at the most, whereas the rum, tobacco, and cloth

purchased with the money obtained for the slaves would be a source of

gratification for some weeks. The traders always endeavour to settle

disputes between the natives, as during a war the river is closed, no

produce is brought down, and their trade is almost at a standstill;

they do not, however, seem inclined effectually to put an end to all

these petty wars by combining together to refuse to supply the natives

with arms and gunpowder.

Bonny-town rejoices in a bishop and an archdeacon of the Church of

England, both pure negroes. Notwithstanding the presence of these high

dignitaries of the Church, however, Christianity does not flourish in

Bonny. The only members of the Mission are the semi-Christianised and

semi-civilised negroes from Sierra Leone and Lagos, who by themselves

form a small colony. The men of this community are carpenters, coopers,

&c., who are employed by the traders; and the women--well, the less

that is said about them the better. Among the natives of Bonny itself

the missionaries make no converts; some will attend the services for a

few weeks, from curiosity or from the hope of obtaining something, and

then return to their old habits. The zeal of the missionary is wasted,

for the fetish priests, who possess enormous influence, exercise all

their power to prevent any of their followers joining the Mission.

This is probably the only reason of the failure, because Christianity

amongst negroes only consists in the outward observance of the Sunday

ceremonies, and proselytes would have to give up none of their present

pleasing practices. Morality is a word which conveys no meaning

whatever to the ordinary negro mind. Fetishism is everywhere rampant;

before almost every house may be seen a wooden or clay idol, to which

offerings of food and drink are daily made, and human sacrifices are

not by any means rare. A very common sacrifice to Ju-ju is that of a

young girl, who is at low water fastened to a stake firmly imbedded in

the river mud, and then left to perish in the rising tide, or to be

devoured by sharks or crocodiles.

All English Missions on the West Coast of Africa, of whatever

denomination, are an utter failure. Their custom is to get children to

attend their schools, and then administer doses of religion to them,

with the rudiments of reading, writing, and arithmetic. Now, in the

first place, the advantage of these acquirements does not very much

strike the average negro parent, and, in the second place, the schools

turn out annually scores of youths who are only fitted, educationally,

to become shopmen and subordinate clerks and bookkeepers. There being

only a limited demand for such persons, it follows that the majority

of the Mission ex-pupils can obtain no employment of that kind; they

consider themselves, on account of what they call their superior

education, above work, and so, having nothing else to do, they devote

their minds and acquirements to the swindling of their more ignorant

fellow-countrymen; and some of them, establishing themselves as clerks

and advisers to the bush chiefs, do incalculable mischief.

The German Missions follow a much better plan. To each Mission

is attached a European carpenter, blacksmith, cooper, tailor, or

shoemaker, as a sort of lay-brother, and the pupils are taught these

trades. The immense advantage of having his children taught a trade

gratuitously is patent to the most careless negro parent, and he sends

his children to the school accordingly; while in after-life they

have the means of earning an honest livelihood, and becoming useful

members of the community. Accra now supplies almost the whole of the

Gold Coast and the Niger delta with artisans, because a German Mission

has been established at Christiansborg for years, where the system of

inculcating the great fact that honest and useful labour is much more

praiseworthy than idle psalm-singing has been steadfastly pursued. I

should advise those quasi-philanthrophists, who prefer squandering

their money on the utopian negro to relieving the necessities of the

poor of their own country, to withdraw their support from the English

societies and transfer it to the Basle and Bremen Missions.

The only recreation which Bonny affords is curlew-shooting, which I

enjoyed several times with my host of the “Adriatic.” Towards sun-set,

when the curlew began to fly down towards their feeding-ground at

Breaker Island at the mouth of the river, we used to take a boat up one

of the numerous creeks, run her on to the mud at one side, and proceed

to make a screen of mangrove branches. From behind this leafy cover we

bagged many a bird on its flight down the creek. The number of guanas

found in these channels is enormous; when keeping perfectly quiet under

our cover we could see dozens upon dozens of them, some four or five

feet in length, crawling about on the opposite bank, or leaping out of

the water in pursuit of fish. This reptile is sacred, or fetish, at

Bonny, as is the python in Dahomey and the crocodile at Accra.

It is advisable on such shooting excursions to be accompanied by

somebody who knows the river. On my return to Bonny later on, after

visiting Old Calabar, the doctor of the steamer and I nearly came to

grief through going by ourselves. We left the ship shortly before

sunset, and steered towards a long and narrow mud-bank down the

river, where we had noticed that thousands of birds went to feed at

nightfall. We reached the bank just as the light was beginning to

fail; the cries of innumerable waterfowl rose from the mud, and we

congratulated ourselves on being about to make a good bag. To our

great annoyance we found, after following the sinuosities of the bank

for some time, that we could not get within range from the boat; but,

as we did not intend to be disappointed in that way, we got out and

waded through the slime, dragging the boat a short way with us, till

we reached what we considered a safe spot to leave it on. It was

now nearly dark, but we could see the white plumage of hundreds of

pelicans and other waterfowl a short distance off, so we both fired.

An indescribable clamour of screams and cries followed the reports, as

myriads of birds rose from the mud and wheeled and circled overhead. We

reloaded, picked up our birds, and waited. Gradually the cries became

fewer and fewer, and at last the whole flock settled down upon the

furthest end of the bank. We were not satisfied with what we had got

(what sportsman ever is?), so we gained the crest of the bank, where

the footing was firmer, and proceeded to walk towards our prey, about

three-quarters of a mile distant. We there repeated the former process

with equal success, and turned to retrace our steps to our boat.

When we had accomplished about half the distance a horrible shiver,

or tremor, seemed to stir the whole surface of the mud, and we both

sank to our knees in slime. I never felt such fear before: I did not

need any one to tell me what that ghastly tremor prognosticated; I

knew we were on a quick-sand, or rather quick-mud, and that the tide

must be coming in, and the prospect of being sucked down and smothered

in reeking ooze was not a pleasant one. We drew our legs from the

quivering mass, and tried to run in the direction in which we had left

our boat. Worse and worse: we sank deeper and deeper at every step,

the darkness, too, grew ever denser; we feared that our boat had been

carried away by the rising tide, and we knew not which way to turn to

extricate ourselves--assistance, we well knew, there was none. As the

mud appeared a little firmer to our left we moved on to it, and waited

in silence, panting and breathless from our late exertions. The birds,

who had been the cause of our getting into this fix, came wheeling

round overhead, and their cries echoed weirdly in the deathly stillness

of the night. I said to the doctor--

“Let us fire off our guns together--somebody may hear us--It’s our only

chance.”

“I don’t think it’s any use.”

“Well, let us try anyhow.”

We fired three or four times, but heard nothing except the lap lap of

the tide as it gradually drew nearer to us, and the screams of the

frightened birds. Presently a ripple of water came along and washed our

ancles, for our feet were buried, and almost simultaneously the doctor

sank to the armpits. I thought it was all over then, but I loaded

mechanically and fired once more. The report had scarcely died away

before my companion shouted excitedly:--

“I saw something white behind you, by the flash of your gun--perhaps

it’s hard sand.”

I helped him up on to the firmer mud where I was standing, and we tried

to make our way towards what he had seen. After about two paces we both

sank to our waists, and, in trying to get out, floundered on to our

faces; but when our heads were thus raised but little above the level

of the slime we could see, dimly through the darkness, a white crest

about twenty yards off. It was a ridge of sand. How we got through

the intervening distance I do not know; but, partly swimming, partly

crawling and floundering along, we at last felt the dry sand under our

hands, and, drawing ourselves up to the top of the little bank, fell

down utterly done up.

We neither of us said anything for some time, and then we began

complaining about the loss of our guns and hats, and wishing for

something with which to take the taste of the mud out of our mouths.

We could not see each other, it was too dark, but we must have looked

pretty objects, clothed from head to foot in a coating of black mud

which smelt--unpleasantly. Soon we began to shiver with cold, and

there was no room for exercise; the minutes dragged on their flight

as if they were leaden, and we thought the night would never come to

an end. At last, after about two hours, we heard a faint halloo in

the distance. We shouted in reply until we were quite hoarse and our

throats sore; then the cry was repeated, and we knew we were all right.

Soon we heard the creaking of rowlocks, and a boat glided up to us. We

were not sorry to see it.

In 1879 a Member of Parliament, an extremely _rara avis_ on the West

Coast of Africa, visited Bonny in his yacht, and the traders still

narrate the following harrowing tale about him. They say that one

morning, being on shore, he strolled into old Oko Jumbo’s house about

11 a.m., and found that veteran warrior at breakfast. He was asked to

partake of the meal, and, being anxious to try the native cookery,

acquiesced. A black clay dish full of some oleaginous stew was set

before him, which he eyed askance, and finally tasted with doubt. A

little fiery perhaps, owing to the native liking for red peppers, but

otherwise not bad: so he plunged his spoon in and fell to like a

man. After a few mouthfuls he unearthed from the bottom of the dish

a curious-looking object. A cold shudder convulsed his frame, and he

looked closely. He could distinguish what seemed like five fingers and

the palm of a hand, and, seized with a violent nervous contraction of

the diaphragm, he leaped from the table and leaned out of a window.

After a little he looked back into the room with brimming eyes, a

haggard brow, and a mind full of the tales of the cannibal propensities

of the natives of Bonny. He approached the old chief with tottering

limbs, and one hand pressed upon the abdominal region, and inquired:--

“What’s in that dish?”

“Me no _sabe_--no eat him dish yet.”

“You old scoundrel, it’s ’long pig’:” and again he rushed with

exceeding swiftness to look at the prospect out of the window.

When he had recovered, he took his hat and stick sorrowfully, and

staggered down the steps. Just as he was stepping into the boat, one of

Oko Jumbo’s slaves came running up with the identical black dish that

had been the cause of all this woe. The enraged legislator brandished

his stick and said:--

“What do you want? What do you mean by bringing that here?”

“Master said he thought you wanted it.”

“No, I don’t--take it out of my sight.”

Just as the boy was going he thought he might as well add a little to

his stock of information, and added:--

“I suppose that’s one of Ja Ja’s babies, eh?”

“Which, Master?”

“Why that in the stew, you fool.”

A serene smile broke out over the interesting countenance of the youth

as he replied:--

“Piccin? This no piccin chop. No war palaver live now. Him Guana.”

CHAPTER VIII.

Old Calabar--Duke Town--Capital Punishments--Moistening the

Ancestral Clay--A Surgeon’s Liabilities--Man-eaters--A Mongrel

Consul--Curious Judgments.

From Bonny I went on to the Old Calabar river, called by the natives

Kalaba and Oróne, which, though always included with the outfalls

of the Niger under the general title of Oil Rivers, is an entirely

distinct stream. After twenty hours’ steaming from Bonny we entered

the estuary of the river, and, crossing the bar, ascended the stream,

which, in comparison with the wide reach of Bonny river, seemed small

and contracted, though it is of fair size, and very deep. About ten

miles from the bar we passed Parrot Island, an isle in the centre

of the river, covered with a dense growth of mangrove trees, and

entered upon a narrower channel to the right of the island. The

banks were thickly wooded, and it was a strange sight to see a large

steamer pursuing its way in the midst of a dense forest, and within

a stone’s throw of the bank. The far-spreading branches brushed the

yards of the ship, and the alligators, disturbed by the stroke of the

propeller, lazily crawled out of the black mud in which they had

been wallowing. As at this part of the stream the navigable channel

follows very closely the eastern bank, it is no uncommon occurrence for

sailing-ships ascending and descending to get their rigging fouled with

the overhanging branches.

Thirty miles from the entrance of the river we anchored off Duke-town,

where lie the hulks of the traders: the stream here is half-a-mile in

breadth, and there is sufficient draught of water for vessels of 2,000

tons.

Duke-town is more pleasantly situated, better built, and larger, than

Bonny-town, and the natives are of a less barbarous type. The town

stands on a hill which slopes gently towards the river, and behind it

the ground rises into a kind of plateau, a good deal of which is under

cultivation, and where there is a thriving American Mission station.

For the European traders, however, who live in hulks and very rarely

go ashore, Old Calabar is perhaps a more unpleasant place of residence

than Bonny. Opposite and below Duke-town are the same mangrove swamps,

at low water the same reeking mud, at night the same malarial fog;

while the water of the river is of a more filthy description than that

of Bonny (to bathe in it is said to cause a loathsome skin disease);

the stream is only one-third of the width of the former, and Duke-town,

being so far inland, is deprived of the sea-breeze, which at Bonny

helps one to drag out a miserable existence; the heat, therefore, is

most oppressive.

The name of Duke-town is derived from a native family of high rank

which has adopted the European patronymic of Duke, and two principal

members of which, Prince Duke and Henshaw Duke, are among the leading

chiefs of the place. As the possession of Armstrong guns and munitions

of war is considered a sign of wealth and authority in Bonny, so here

a man’s status is fixed by the style of house he inhabits. This hobby

is carried to such a length that the chiefs have wooden houses sent out

to them from England and Germany, and keep European carpenters in their

pay to erect them and keep them in repair. Some of these houses bristle

with turrets, porticoes, verandahs, and bow-windows, and the chief

whose residence has the largest number of these appendages is the one

who makes the greatest show of wealth and influence.

Although in this respect the natives of Old Calabar seem more amenable

to civilising influences than those of Bonny, there is not equal

superiority displayed in their customs, except in the absence of the

practice of cannibalism. Their treatment of criminals, for instance, is

marked by great cruelty. When a native is detected in the commission

of any serious offence, such as murder or theft, he is gagged, laid

across an upturned canoe, his back broken by blows from heavy clubs,

and his body thrown into the river. Sometimes they vary their _modus

operandi_, and, after gagging the culprit, they truss him like a fowl,

and fastening him to stakes driven into the mud at low water leave him

to be drowned or devoured by alligators.

A curious local custom is that called “Feeding the Dead.” When they

bury their dead, the relatives, before the earth is filled into the

grave, place a tube, formed of bamboo, or pithy wood with the pith

extracted, and sufficiently long to protrude from the earth heaped

up over the body, into the mouth of the deceased; and down this they

pour, from time to time, palm wine, water, palm oil, &c. They appear to

imagine that dead men do not require solid food at all, and, as they

only pour the liquids down two or three times a month, are not very

thirsty souls. They believe that after death the deceased suffers from

the same bodily ailments as he did in life, and sometimes very filial

natives will go to the doctor of a steamer, and simulate the complaint

from which the paternal or maternal ancestor suffered, in order that

they may obtain the requisite medicine to pour down the grave. One day

a lad, son of a late chief, came to the resident doctor of the river

and said:--

“Doctor, my foot sick. Gimme some med’cine.”

“What’s the matter with it?” inquired the doctor.

“Him swell up--fit to burst--can’t walk no more.”

The Galen of the river examined the foot, and, finding it perfectly

sound and healthy, and not swollen in the least, assumed an enraged

aspect, and demanded fiercely--

“What d’you mean by telling me these lies?”

“Please, master, not my foot sick, my fader foot sick.”

“Then tell him to come here himself.”

“He can’t come--they put him ground already.”

“D’you mean he’s dead?”

“Yes, master--him dead now ’bout three month.”

“Then what d’you mean by coming here? Get out of this.”

“Master, I want the med’cine for sick foot same as I tell you. I want

to give him my fader, he no get med’cine since he put in ground. I know

him foot plenty sick now.”

“Well, I’ll give you some if you pay for it.”

“I no get money, master.”

“Then you won’t get any medicine.”

The filial affection of these people is not such that they will expend

coin of the realm in the purchase of medicine or drink for their

dead parents. They do not give them rum for instance. The ancestral

clay only gets moistened with palm wine or water, while the more

exhilarating beverage goes down their own throats. Perhaps they think

that ghosts have weak heads and cannot stand mundane spirits.

The natives of Old Calabar extend the liabilities of a surgeon to an

extent that would be most appalling to practitioners of surgery if

it were generally adopted in Europe. A doctor on this river was once

called to a case in which a boy had had his leg crushed and fearfully

lacerated by an alligator, and, to save the boy’s life, amputated the

leg above the knee. It was a very complicated case, as there were

other injuries besides; but after much trouble and hard work his

efforts were crowned with success, and the patient was declared out

of danger. Not many days after he had ceased visiting the wounded

boy he descried, while sitting on the deck of the hulk in which he

resided, a canoe being paddled towards him; which, as it drew nearer,

he could see contained the parents, brothers, and sisters of his late

patient and the patient himself. He thought they were coming to express

their gratitude and thankfulness to him for saving the life of their

beloved relative, and with the pleased self-consciousness of having

performed a virtuous action prepared to receive them. When the family

had climbed up the ladder on to the deck they solemnly and sadly,

and in dead silence, supporting the crippled boy in their midst,

approached the doctor; and then, depositing their burden at his feet,

retired hurriedly to the ladder as if to go away again. The astonished

benefactor, wondering what this could mean, called them back and asked

for an explanation of their behaviour. Then broke forth a torrent of

woe; they lifted up their voices in lamentation, and said that he had

cut off the leg of their poor son and brother; he had crippled him for

life, so that now he could not work or be of any use to them; he had

taken all the joy out of their beloved relative’s life, and maimed him

so that he had become a bye-word and a jest, and that consequently he

must support him. They added thoughtfully that if he liked to pay a

daily sum for the boy’s subsistence they would take care of him and

not make any charge for lodging. The doctor was at first overwhelmed

by this unexpected assault, but soon recovering himself, he, in an

injured tone, taxed them with ingratitude, pointed out to them that

he had only taken off the leg to save the boy’s life, and that if he

had not done so the child would have died, and have been lost to them

altogether. Upon this the family with renewed tribulation declared that

it would have been better if the boy had died, as then they would only

have incurred the comparatively trifling expense of the funeral custom;

whereas now they would have to keep him all his life if his mutilator

did not do his duty and support him; and all this time the boy himself

lay silent on the deck, looking at his saviour with mournful and

reproachful eyes, that seemed to say “look at the condition to which

you have reduced me.” The argument was carried on until at last,

finding that the family was not amenable to reason, the doctor had the

whole of them turned out of the ship. After that he thought that the

matter was settled and that he would hear no more of it, but these

poor injured people were not going to let him off so easily. A few

days later, when he went ashore, they met him in the street, laid the

cripple at his feet, and again filled the air with cries of woe and

abuse of the doctor. He tried to escape them, but when he moved on

they followed wailing with their maimed boy; if he walked fast, so did

they; when he stopped they stopped too, and formed a lamenting circle

round him; when he went into a house they congregated on the doorstep

and made conversation impossible with their complaints; and at last he

had to fly for refuge to his hulk. Every time he went on shore this was

repeated; until at last he had to give up going out, and was confined

to the ship altogether. When the importunate parents discovered this

they came out in a canoe, and day after day paddled round the vessel,

yelling out their grievances in discordant and dismal tones. It was

too much for the unfortunate doctor, his life became a misery to him,

and at last he flung up his lucrative practice, exchanged with another

doctor, and went off to one of the Niger outfalls. Surgical operations

are not now in high favour with doctors on the Old Calabar river.

I have said that the original cause of all this trouble was an

alligator who had been seized with an uncontrollable desire to dine

off the leg of a boy, and man-eaters of this description are not by

any means uncommon in this part of the world. Women washing clothes,

men fishing, and children dabbling about by the edge of the water, are

frequently seized and dragged into the river by alligators. Sometimes

these monsters will even attack men on shore, and, a few days before

my arrival, a watchman, who was on duty over a corrugated iron store

on the river bank, was seized in the night, some thirty yards from the

brink of the water, by an alligator, and dragged into the stream. The

cries of the man alarmed the neighbourhood, but those who hastened to

his assistance found nothing to show what had become of him but pools

of blood and the trail of the alligator in the mud. A short distance

above Duke-town are the remains of two or three old hulks, lying

rotting in the mud, which are a favourite resort of these alligators;

and any one dropping down with the tide in a boat can see scores of

these disgusting creatures, from fifteen to twenty feet long, basking

on them. They are very wary, because they are so often shot at, and at

the slightest creak of an oar in a rowlock all will stand up to their

full height, moving their heads up and down in exactly the same manner

as do lizards when alarmed; and directly they catch sight of a boat

they plunge into the water.

I went up the river one day to get a shot at these, or any others I

might see, but it was under circumstances that made success as probable

as it would be if one went out alligator-shooting accompanied by a

brass band in full blast. I went with a youth, who, from having been a

clerk to one of the traders in the river, had, by the death of Consul

Hopkins, a man universally admired and respected in West Africa, been

suddenly thrust into the position of Acting Consul for the Bights

of Benin and Biafra. I never saw a better illustration of the old

saying about being clothed in a little brief authority. In the eyes

of this hybrid official the paraphernalia of office were of paramount

importance, and, as he had no consular uniform of his own, he had

donned, despite the unsuitableness in point of size, the garments of

the late consul. The new man was very tall, whereas his predecessor had

been short; the consequence of which difference was that there was a

woeful hiatus between the termination of the short jacket with brass

buttons and the band of the continuations, which gap exposed to view a

vast region of not very clean shirt. The gold-laced cap of office was

too small, and on the head of the gallant youth presented very much the

same appearance as would a thimble upon the top of an orange. He wore

it in and out of season; and I shall never forget the consternation and

horror which was depicted on his countenance, when, through yawning

in a moment of forgetfulness, it slipped from its perch and fell into

the river; nor how he strove to console himself, and make the best of

his loss, by rushing to the purser of the homeward-bound steamer, and

asking him to bring out three new ones for him next trip. It was in the

boat of this magnificent official that I went up the river. It was a

gorgeous gig, with an awning astern and brass fittings; he would abate

none of his glory, and took his six oarsmen, in consequence of which

the splashing of the oars and the creaking of the rowlocks awoke the

echoes of the forest, and frightened every bird, beast, and reptile

within half-a-mile. Of course we saw nothing, and did not fire a shot.

While I was at Old Calabar this “Jack in Office” had an opportunity

of displaying his judicial authority and legal acumen. Two Kroomen on

board the mail steamer were charged by the Captain with having broken

open a bale out of the cargo, and appropriated the contents. The

accused protested their innocence, and the only evidence against them

was that of another Krooman, who said that he had found the covering of

the missing bale, which was easily known by its marks, in a part of the

hold near which he had seen the two prisoners, but to which any one in

the ship had access. This was quite enough for the Acting Consul: he

sentenced the men to three dozen lashes each, which he waited to see

administered, and then he handed them over, though they were natives

of Sierra Leone and consequently British subjects, to an independent

native chief to be kept in slavery. This was tantamount to giving an

official approval to the practice of slavery; and had it occurred in

any other part of the world more would have been heard of it, but no

one troubles himself about such things in West Africa.

CHAPTER IX.

Sierra Leone--More Civility--Cobras--A Guilty Conscience--Naval

Types--Freetown Society--A Musical Critic--The Rural Districts--A

British Atrocity.

On January 1st, 1881, I returned once more to Sierra Leone. I found the

place and people very much improved, which improvement was, I believe,

entirely due to the action of the late Governor, Sir Samuel Rowe, who

had consequently acquired the cordial hatred of all the Sierra Leone

lower classes. Future Governors need not however lose heart; there is

still something left for them to do, and, if they are only sufficiently

energetic, they will have no difficulty in gaining that unpopularity

with the natives which is, in West Africa, more honourable than

popularity.

Civility to Europeans is still one of the weak points of the Sierra

Leonians. Two or three days after my arrival some enterprising burglar

ransacked my quarters during my absence, and removed everything which

he considered worth taking. Suspicion fell upon the occupants of a

certain house in the town, and a search-warrant was issued. As it was

necessary that the stolen articles should be at once identified, if

found, I had to accompany the police who went to examine this den; but,

as the aroma of such dwellings is not usually pleasant, I allowed them

to go into the house, and went and sat down on a rock by the roadside

under the shade of a tree.

While so sitting, a Sierra Leone gentleman, whom I had seen for some

distance coming along the road towards me, drew nigh, and lifted up his

voice and spake, saying:--

“Hullo, you white nigger--what you do here, eh?”

I pretended to be deeply abstracted in the examination of the soil at

my feet, and made no answer; while he continued, working himself into a

passion as he proceeded--

“Heigh, you white nigger. You too proud to talk, eh? Dam brute.”

A small crowd began to collect and make facetious remarks at my

expense, so I said to my annoyer:--

“If you don’t go away I’ll call the police.”

“Heigh! hear dat. _You_ call de police, white nigger? _Me_ call de

police, and give you in charge for ’ssault. All dese gen’lmen here saw

you ’ssault me--dam brute.”

At this moment, fortunately, for I was beginning to feel a little

displeased at this language, the sergeant of the police came out of

the house, and I called him. Quite a change at once came o’er the

spirit of the scene; my antagonist, crestfallen, executed a skilful

flank movement up a bye-street, covering his retreat by a continuous

and heavy fire of abuse, while his supports scattered and sought the

nearest cover.

I could not have had this man locked up for what he had done, but the

law is a beautiful and far-reaching, if somewhat complex, machine,

and of course I could have a legal remedy. It only required the few

following little preliminaries. Firstly, I should have had to ascertain

the name of the individual; secondly, discover his place of residence;

thirdly, attend and take out a summons against him; fourthly, pay for

it; fifthly, have it served on the defendant; and sixthly, have a day

appointed for the hearing of the case. Then, after having satisfied,

if possible, these first requirements, it would be necessary for me to

go down to the town in the heat of the day, and remain in a crowded

and suffocating court for perhaps hours, subjected to the insidious

insinuations and brow-beatings of a negro lawyer, who would very

likely after all turn the tables on me by producing fifteen or twenty

witnesses, all thoroughly well schooled in what they had to say, who

would swear that I had perpetrated a vindictive and brutal assault upon

a poor black brother who had merely asked me what o’clock it was. Even

if I did succeed in obtaining a conviction, the defendant would only

be bound over to keep the peace; and he would incite his relatives and

friends to give me plenty of entertainment during my residence in the

country.

This of course is only one side of the question, and, I am bound

to say on the other side, that the servants of the two steamship

companies, which run vessels from Liverpool to West Africa, are a

great deal too free in the violent application of their boots to the

persons of negroes who may go on board the steamers; so perhaps the

latter retaliate on those Europeans who live in the place as a kind of

compensation.

An otherwise friendly critic thought it strange that this should be the

state of things at Sierra Leone. It is strange; but then things are

not on the West Coast of Africa as they are elsewhere. In what other

colony, for instance, could one find a Colonial official, holding a

high position and drawing a large salary, who advanced money to all

applicants on the security of jewelry and such small portable articles

of value, or in what part of the British Empire an officer, head of a

Colonial department, who uses his influence to _persuade_ his negro

subordinates to insure their lives in a company for which he is agent,

thereby pocketing a commission of twenty-five or thirty per cent. on

each policy?

I do not think I have hitherto made any mention of the black

cobras-di-capello which are the pest of the barracks at Tower Hill.

These playful companions seem to have a particular predilection for

the sunny banks and rocks of that hill, and, during my two months’

residence there in 1874, four were killed within five or ten yards of

the officers’ mess; but they appear to have become much more familiar

of late years, and, a few days after my arrival, one was seen, and

another killed, in a bedroom on the second story. As a bite from one of

these snakes causes certain death within three hours, one would wish to

have less dangerous domestic creatures at large. There must be hundreds

of them in the vicinity of the barracks, as I have seen eight or nine

myself at different times; and while walking up the hill one evening in

the dusk barely escaped treading on one, being only just warned in time

by a shrill hiss. These cobras usually go about in couples, and during

the breeding season they will, though totally unmolested, make direct

for any person who may happen to approach them.

_Apropos_ of snakes,--a naval officer had rather an amusing adventure

with one at Tower Hill. He had come ashore, from a gunboat lying in the

harbour, to dine at mess; and, as is usually the case, had suddenly

discovered, after the third or fourth rubber, about 11 p.m., that he

could not get off to his ship that night, and must trespass upon

somebody’s kindness for a bed. He was assisted to a room, and the

lights were being put out in the mess when we heard a series of wild

shouts up stairs, and then a noise as of some heavy body thumping and

banging down the steps. We ran out into the passage, and discovered

the naval man lying curled up, half undressed, at the bottom of the

stair-case; so we lifted him up and asked what was the matter. He

appeared very much frightened, and gasped out:--

“Oh, Lord! I’ve got them at last.”

“Got what?” we inquired.

“Oh, Lord: I’ve got them at last--Oh, send for a doctor will you. I’ll

never touch another drop of that cursed ship’s rum, if I get over this.”

“But what have you got?” we reiterated.

“Got? I’ve got the jumps--that’s what I’ve got.”

“Nonsense! go to bed! you’re all right.”

“I tell you I’m not. I could have sworn I saw a snake in my bed just

now, and that’s one of the first signs.”

He was so eager to see a doctor that we took him to one, and then went

up to examine his room. True enough there was a snake, coiled up in the

blanket on his bed. It was a python, which had escaped from a cage in

which several were confined in an adjoining room. Two of us seized it

by the head and two by the tail to take it back to its prison. As we

were carrying it along it drew itself up and our four heads collided

together with a crash; then it straightened itself out, and we shot off

violently towards the four corners of the room; it required the united

efforts of six men to remove that snake to his own domicile. This

adventure shows what a guilty conscience will effect; and it was the

more amusing because the naval hero had, not with the best taste, been

loudly proclaiming that he was almost a teetotaller, that all military

officers were drunkards, and that nobody ever died in West Africa

except from the effect of ardent spirits. He went away rather early

next morning without waiting to say “good-bye” to anybody.

I wonder what has become of the jovial, open-handed, and open-hearted

naval officers that one reads about in works of fiction, and who

continually interlard their conversation with nautical expressions;

one never meets any of this description now-a-days, in fact quite the

contrary; and I am half inclined to believe that they never were more

than creatures of the imagination, but if ever they did exist the

species is now extinct. The life that naval officers lead shut up in a

floating tank on the West Coast of Africa is horrible; sometimes they

do not set foot on shore for months together, but lie day after day,

rolling fearfully, off a few mud huts and a grove of cocoanut palms.

They have hardly any work to do, and, as but few of them have any

resources of amusement or occupation, they as a natural consequence

quarrel amongst themselves; and in almost every gunboat one finds the

five or six officers divided into two or three cliques, each of which

will have nothing to say to either of the others, except on official

matters. This sort of thing is rather unpleasant for any stranger who

may happen to be on board. First of all one will come up and enter into

conversation with you, during which he is sure to say:--

“Do you know that man over there?”

“No, I don’t,” you reply.

“Ah! his name is Blank. He is the most awful ass I ever met--I

shouldn’t have anything to say to him if I were you.”

Then he goes away, and he is barely out of sight before another

saunters up and begins talking. Presently he will say:--

“Do you know Smith well?”

“No, who’s Smith?” you inquire.

“Oh, that was Smith that was talking to you just now. He’s the most

inveterate liar I ever met--you must never believe anything he tells

you.”

Then after he has gone away Blank will come forward, and after a few

preliminary sentences casually inform you that both Smith and your

second acquaintance are confirmed drunkards. No sooner has Blank moved

off than the confidential naval officer, who calls you “old man” and

speaks in low and thick tones, will draw nigh and tell you what the

failings of every officer on board may be; finally leaving you under

the impression that every one but himself is thoroughly incapable,

untrustworthy, and of intemperate habits, and that were it not for him

the ship would go to the dogs.

I was once on board a man-of-war for a few days in which this

unsociability was carried to such a degree that at the gun-room mess

every officer, at breakfast and tea, used to produce, from the depths

of his bunk, a pot of jam, or a tin of potted meat, and devour it all

by himself without offering it or saying a word to his comrades.

Then there is the naval officer, who, before you have fairly set foot

on board, rushes at you and informs you that you have omitted saluting

the quarter-deck; and who always loses his temper when you tell him

that you do not know where it is, and are looking for it; and the

self-asserting man who is perpetually telling you what his relative

rank is. I remember an individual of this latter class, who when a

guest at a military detachment mess, the senior dining member of which

was a captain, kept remarking.--

“You know I’m senior to all you fellows. As I’m a lieutenant of eight

years’ service I rank with a major.”

He might have ranked with a major-general for all any one cared, but

after he had said this at intervals some nine or ten times it began to

become monotonous; so somebody said, as if to the punkah:--

“I’ve often heard that remark made before, but I never yet heard a

major in the army boast that he ranked with a lieutenant in the navy.”

Society at Sierra Leone is in a very bad way; in fact from an English

point of view one may say that there is no society at all. The only

Europeans in the place are the officers of the garrison, the Colonial

officials, and a few shop-keepers, who, although they will sell

anything from three-pence worth of rum upwards, rejoice here in the

title of merchants. Ladies there are none, except on the few occasions

on which an officer’s wife may be found residing at Tower Hill, so what

little society there is consists of men alone, and is composed of the

most heterogeneous elements. Most of the so-called merchants appear

to have sprung from the lower _strata_ of English life, many of them

have black wives, and a large majority of the Colonial officers are

coloured; the Governors never seem to make the slightest attempt to

collect around themselves the more cultivated members of the Colony,

and everybody does that which seems good in his own eyes. The _élite_

of the coloured population sometimes get up balls, similar to the one

I witnessed at Lagos, and which like it usually terminate in an orgie,

and to these Europeans are occasionally invited; but it is only those

who have no sense of the ludicrous, or who have their facial muscles

well under control, that can afford to go. The retailing of scandal

seems to be the principal occupation of the town society, and if one

were to place implicit credence in the tales and gossip which abound

one would inevitably arrive at the conclusion that there was not an

honourable man or a virtuous woman in the place.

In by-gone years the officers of the garrison used to inaugurate

races, and a tract of ground near Kissi, on which stands a diminutive

grand-stand, is still called the race-course; but now the sole

amusement of the colony is the performance of the band of the regiment

therein stationed, on the green patch of ground known as the Battery.

This performance takes place once a week, but the majority of the

people are too lazy and apathetic to go to hear it, and, with the

exception of a few Colonial officers and some forty or fifty ragged

children, the musicians discourse to empty air. There was one Colonial

officer who was a regular attendant on band days, and whose principal

aim in life seemed to be to pose as an authority on music before the

uninitiated. As he knew nothing whatever of the science, and had

successfully picked up the phrases used in music without in the least

understanding their meaning, he frequently entangled himself in the

most irretrievable confusion, and was a source of much amusement.

One day the band was playing Gounod’s Serenade, and during the

performance the critic walked round and round as usual, beating time

in the air with his walking-stick, and assailing every inoffensive

bystander with a hailstorm of scientific jargon. When the piece was

finished he nodded approval and said:--

“Ah! pretty thing--pretty thing. Fine scale of minor fifths. Let me

see; what is it called?”

“That? Oh! it’s one of Whistler’s ‘Nocturnes,’” said somebody.

“Yes, yes. Of course it is. Whistler’s ‘Nocturne.’ How stupid of me to

forget the name.”

It is said that this connoisseur once remarked that the Marquois scale

was most difficult for a beginner on the flute; but that, when once

learned, it was so beautiful as to well repay all trouble.

The peninsula of Sierra Leone is, exclusive of Freetown, divided into

various rural districts, known as the First Eastern, Second Eastern,

Western, and Mountain districts. In addition to these the outlying

territories of British Sherbro, the Isles de Los, and Ki-Konkeh at the

mouth of the Scarcies river, form integral portions of the Colony. The

Mountain district is very picturesque and affords some fine views,

especially in the neighbourhood of Regent, where the Sugar Loaf, a

densely-wooded peak about 3000 feet in height, towers over the little

village. At Leicester Park, 1990 feet high, the Government have lately

purchased a building called the Hospice, which had been constructed by

the Roman Catholic Mission, 1495 feet above the sea, and it is used as

a kind of sanitarium. Living up in these mountains takes one into an

entirely different atmosphere to that of the town, and it is decidedly

more healthy, except during the rainy season, when sometimes for days

together the mountains are shrouded in clouds, and a drenching mist

drives in at every opened door and window. These mountains all abound

in deer and other game, but the cover is so dense that they are rarely

seen; and to endeavour to beat up a ravine or valley is an expensive

operation, as fifty or sixty beaters are required, all of whom want to

be paid unreasonably highly for their services.

The Eastern district may be described as the frontier district of the

peninsula, it being bounded by the Waterloo creek and Ribbi river,

which separate it from Timmanee country. The Timmanees periodically

commit outrages on British subjects, and small wars ensue. These wars

are, however, almost invariably bloodless; as the natives, on the

approach of a disciplined force, at once evacuate their towns and take

refuge in the forest. The towns are then destroyed and the troops and

police return to Freetown, to wait until the natives have repaired the

damage done, and begin their pillaging and murdering afresh.