I am sorry to say that my colleague's honeymoon did not last long,
although it was not interrupted by domestic discord. One of his
malicious Sierra Leone creditors, who had not been dealt with quite as
liberally as the rest, called on the colonial governor of that British
establishment, and alleged that a certain Edward Joseph, an
Englishman, owned a factory on the Rio Pongo, in company with a
Spaniard, and was engaged in the slave-trade!
At this the British lion, of course, growled in his African cage, and
bestirred himself to punish the recreant cub. An expedition was
forthwith fitted out to descend upon our little establishment; and, in
all likelihood, the design would have been executed, had not our
friendly Israelite in Sierra Leone sent us timely warning. No sooner
did the news arrive than Joseph embarked in a slaver, and, packing up
his valuables, together with sixty negroes, fled from Africa. His
disconsolate bride was left to return to her parents.
As the hostile visit from the British colony was hourly expected, I
did not tarry long in putting a new face on Kambia. Fresh books were
made out in my name exclusively; their dates were carefully suited to
meet all inquiries; and the townspeople were prepared to answer
impertinent questions; so that, when Lieutenant Findlay, of Her
Britannic Majesty's naval service, made his appearance in the river,
with three boats bearing the cross of St. George, no man in the
settlement was less anxious than Don Teodore, the _Spaniard_.
When the lieutenant handed me an order from the governor of Sierra
Leone and its dependencies, authorizing him to burn or destroy the
property of Joseph, as well as to arrest that personage himself, I
regretted that I was unable to facilitate his patriotic projects,
inasmuch as the felon was afloat on salt water, while all his property
had long before been conveyed to me by a regular bill of sale. In
proof of my assertions, I produced the instrument and the books; and
when I brought in our African landlord to sustain me in every
particular, the worthy lieutenant was forced to relinquish his
hostility and accept an invitation to dinner. His conduct during the
whole investigation was that of a gentleman; which, I am sorry to say,
was not always the case with his professional countrymen.
* * * * *
During the rainy season, which begins in June and lasts till October,
the stores of provisions in establishments along the Atlantic coast
often become sadly impaired. The Foulah and Mandingo tribes of the
interior are prevented by the swollen condition of intervening streams
from visiting the beach with their produce. In these straits, the
factories have recourse by canoes to the smaller rivers, which are
neither entered by sea-going vessels, nor blockaded for the caravans
of interior chiefs.
Among the tribes or clans visited by me in such seasons, I do not
remember any whose intercourse afforded more pleasure, or exhibited
nobler traits, than the BAGERS, who dwell on the solitary margins of
these shallow rivulets, and subsist by boiling salt in the dry season
and making palm-oil in the wet. I have never read an account of these
worthy blacks, whose civility, kindness, and honesty will compare
favorably with those of more civilized people.
The Bagers live very much apart from the great African tribes, and
keep up their race by intermarriage. The language is peculiar, and
altogether devoid of that Italian softness that makes the Soosoo so
musical.
Having a week or two of perfect leisure, I determined to set out in a
canoe to visit one of these establishments, especially as no
intelligence had reached me for some time from one of my country
traders who had been dispatched thither with an invoice of goods to
purchase palm-oil. My canoe was comfortably fitted with a waterproof
awning, and provisioned for a week.
A tedious pull along the coast and through the dangerous surf, brought
us to the narrow creek through whose marshy mesh of _mangroves_ we
squeezed our canoe to the bank. Even after landing, we waded a
considerable distance through marsh before we reached the solid land.
The Bager town stood some hundred yards from the landing, at the end
of a desolate savanna, whose lonely waste spread as far as the eye
could reach. The village itself seemed quite deserted, so that I had
difficulty in finding "the oldest inhabitant," who invariably stays at
home and acts the part of chieftain. This venerable personage welcomed
me with great cordiality; and, having made my _dantica_, or, in other
words, declared the purpose of my visit, I desired to be shown the
trader's house. The patriarch led me at once to a hut, whose miserable
thatch was supported by four posts. Here I recognized a large chest, a
rum cask, and the grass hammock of my agent. I was rather exasperated
to find my property thus neglected and exposed, and began venting my
wrath in no seemly terms on the delinquent clerk, when my conductor
laid his hand gently on my sleeve, and said there was no need to blame
him. "This," continued he, "is his house; here your property is
sheltered from sun and rain; and, among the Bagers, whenever your
goods are protected from the elements, they are safe from every
danger. Your man has gone across the plain to a neighboring town for
oil; to-night he will be back;--in the mean time, look at your goods!"
I opened the chest, which, to my surprise, was unlocked, and found it
nearly full of the merchandise I had placed in it. I shook the cask,
and its weight seemed hardly diminished. I turned the spigot, and lo!
the rum trickled on my feet. Hard-by was a temporary shed, filled to
the roof with hides and casks of palm-oil, all of which, the
gray-beard declared was my property.
Whilst making this inspection, I have no doubt the expression of my
face indicated a good deal of wonder, for I saw the old man smile
complacently as he followed me with his quiet eye.
"Good!" said the chief, "it is all there,--is it not? We Bagers are
neither Soosoos, Mandingoes, Foulahs, nor _White-men_, that the goods
of a stranger are not safe in our towns! We work for a living; we want
little; big ships never come to us, and we neither steal from our
guests nor go to war to sell one another!"
The conversation, I thought, was becoming a little personal; and, with
a gesture of impatience, I put a stop to it. On second thoughts,
however, I turned abruptly round, and shaking the noble savage's hand
with a vigor that made him wince, presented him with a piece of cloth.
Had Diogenes visited Africa in search of his man, it is by no means
unlikely that he might have extinguished his lamp among the Bagers!
* * * * *
It was about two o'clock in the afternoon when I arrived in the town,
which, as I before observed, seemed quite deserted, except by a dozen
or two ebony antiquities, who crawled into the sunshine when they
learned the advent of a stranger. The young people were absent
gathering palm nuts in a neighboring grove. A couple of hours before
sundown, my trader returned; and, shortly after, the merry gang of
villagers made their appearance, laughing, singing, dancing, and laden
with fruit. As soon as the gossips announced the arrival of a white
man during their absence, the little hut that had been hospitably
assigned me was surrounded by a crowd, five or six deep, of men,
women, and children. The pressure was so close and sudden that I was
almost stifled. Finding they would not depart until I made myself
visible, I emerged from concealment and shook hands with nearly all.
The women, in particular, insisted on gratifying themselves with a
_sumboo_ or smell at my face,--which is the native's kiss,--and
folded their long black arms in an embrace of my neck, threatening
peril to my shirt with their oiled and dusty flesh. However, I noticed
so much _bonhommie_ among the happy crew that my heart would not allow
me to repulse them; so I kissed the youngest and shunned the crones.
In token of my good will, I led a dozen or more of the prettiest to
the rum-barrel, and made them happy for the night.
When the townsfolks had comfortably nestled themselves in their
hovels, the old chief, with a show of some formality, presented me a
heavy ram-goat, distinguished for its formidable head-ornaments,
which, he said, was offered as a _bonne-bouche_, for my supper. He
then sent a crier through the town, informing the women that a white
stranger would be their guest during the night; and, in less than half
an hour, my hut was visited by most of the village dames and damsels.
One brought a pint of rice; another some roots of _cassava_; another,
a few spoonfuls of palm-oil; another a bunch of peppers; while the
oldest lady of the party made herself particularly remarkable by the
gift of a splendid fowl. In fact, the crier had hardly gone his
rounds, before my mat was filled with the voluntary contributions of
the villagers; and the wants, not only of myself but of my eight
rowers, completely supplied.
There was nothing peculiar in this exhibition of hospitality, on
account of my nationality. It was the mere fulfilment of a Bager law;
and the poorest _black stranger_ would have shared the rite as well as
myself. I could not help thinking that I might have travelled from one
end of England or America to the other, without meeting a Bager
_welcome_. Indeed, it seemed somewhat questionable, whether it were
better for the English to civilize Africa, or for the Bagers to send
missionaries to their brethren in Britain!
These reflections, however, did not spoil my appetite, for I confess a
feeling of unusual content and relish when the patriarch sat down with
me before the covered bowls prepared for our supper. But, alas! for
human hopes and tastes! As I lifted the lid from the vessel containing
the steaming stew, its powerful fragrance announced the remains of
that venerable quadruped with which I had been welcomed. It was
probably not quite in etiquette among the Bagers to decline the stew,
yet, had starvation depended on it, I could not have touched a morsel.
Accordingly, I forbore the mess and made free with the rice, seasoning
it well with salt and peppers. But my amiable landlord was resolved
that I should not go to rest with such penitential fare, and ordered
one of his wives to bring her supper to my lodge. A taste of the dish
satisfied me that it was edible, though intensely peppered. I ate with
the appetite of an alderman, nor was it till two days after that my
trader informed me I had supped so heartily on the spareribs of an
alligator! It was well that the hours of digestion had gone by, for
though partial to the chase, I had never loved "water fowl" of so wild
a character.
When supper was over, I escaped from the hut to breathe a little fresh
air before retiring for the night. Hardly had I put my head outside
when I found myself literally inhaling the mosquitoes that swarmed at
nightfall over these marshy flats. I took it for granted that there
was to be no rest for me in darkness among the Bagers; but, when I
mentioned my trouble to the chief, he told me that another hut had
already been provided for my sleeping quarters, where my bed was made
of certain green and odorous leaves which are antidotes to mosquitoes.
After a little more chat, he offered to guide me to the hovel, a low,
thickly matted bower, through whose single aperture I crawled on hands
and knees. As soon as I was in, the entrance was closed, and although
I felt very much as if packed in my grave, I slept an unbroken sleep
till day-dawn.[D]
My return to the Rio Pongo was attended with considerable danger, yet
I did not regret the trial of my spirit, as it enabled me to see a
phase of African character which otherwise might have been missed.
After passing two days among the Bagers, I departed once more in my
canoe, impelled by the stout muscles of the Kroomen. The breeze
freshened as we passed from the river's mouth across the boiling surf
of the bar, but, when we got fairly to sea, I found the Atlantic so
vexed by the rising gale, that, in spite of waterproof awning and
diligent bailing, we were several times near destruction. Still, I had
great confidence in the native boatmen, whose skill in their skiffs is
quite as great as their dexterity when naked in the water. I had often
witnessed their agility as they escaped from capsized boats on the
surf of our bar; and often had I rewarded them with a dram, when they
came, as from a frolic, dripping and laughing to the beach.
When night began to fall around us the storm increased, and I could
detect, by the low chatter and anxious looks of the rowers, that they
were alarmed. As far as my eye reached landward, I could descry
nothing but a continuous reef on which the chafed sea was dashing
furiously in columns of the densest spray. Of course I felt that it
was not my duty, nor would it be prudent, to undertake the guidance of
the canoe in such circumstances. Yet, I confess that a shudder ran
through my nerves when I saw my "head-man" suddenly change our course
and steer the skiff directly towards the rocks. On she bounded like a
racer. The sea through which they urged her foamed like a caldron with
the rebounding surf. Nothing but wave-lashed rock was before us. At
last I could detect a narrow gap in the iron wall, which was filled
with surges in the heaviest swells. We approached it, and paused at
the distance of fifty feet. A wave had just burst through the chasm
like a storming army. We waited for the succeeding lull. All hands
laid still,--not a word was spoken or paddle dipped. Then came the
next enormous swell under our stern;--the oars flew like
lightning;--the canoe rose as a feather on the crest of the surf;--in
a moment she shot through the cleft and reposed in smooth water near
the shore. As we sped through the gap, I might have touched the rocks
on both sides with my extended arms!
Such is the skill and daring of Kroomen.
FOOTNOTE:
[D] These Bagers are remarkable for their honesty, as I was convinced
by several anecdotes related, during my stay in this village, by my
trading clerk. He took me to a neighboring lemon-tree, and exhibited
an English brass steelyard hanging on its branches, which had been
left there by a mulatto merchant from Sierra Leone, who died in the
town on a trading trip. This article, with a chest half full of goods,
deposited in the "palaver-house," had been kept securely more than
twelve years in expectation that some of his friends would send for
them from the colony. The Bagers, I was told, have no _jujus_,
_fetiches_, or _gree-grees_;--they worship no god or evil
spirit;--their dead are buried without tears or ceremony;--and their
hereafter in eternal oblivion.
The males of this tribe are of middling size and deep black color;
broad-shouldered, but neither brave nor warlike. They keep aloof from
other tribes, and by a Fullah law, are protected from foreign violence
in consequence of their occupation as salt-makers, which is regarded
by the interior natives as one of the most useful trades. Their
fondness for palm-oil and the little work they are compelled to
perform, make them generally indolent. Their dress is a single
handkerchief, or a strip of country cloth four or five inches wide,
most carefully put on.
The young women have none of the sylphlike appearance of the
Mandingoes or Soosoos. They work hard and use palm-oil plentifully
both internally and externally, so that their relaxed flesh is bloated
like blubber. Both sexes shave their heads, and adorn their noses and
lower lips with rings, while they penetrate their ears with porcupine
quills or sticks. _They neither sell nor buy each other_, though they
acquire children of both sexes from other tribes, and adopt them into
their own, or dispose of them if not suitable. Their avails of work
are commonly divided; so the Bagers may be said to resemble the
Mormons in polygamy, the Fourierites in community, but to exceed both
in honesty!
I am sorry that their nobler characteristics have so few imitators
among the other tribes of Africa.