Having completed the mercantile negotiations of the caravan, and made
my personal arrangements for a protracted absence, I put the noble
Fullah in charge of my establishment, with special charges to my
retainers, clerks, runners, and villagers, to regard the Mami as my
second self. I thought it well, moreover, before I plunged into the
wilderness,--leaving my worldly goods and worldly prospects in charge
of a Mussulman stranger,--to row down to Bangalang for a parting chat
with Mongo John, in which I might sound the veteran as to his feeling
and projects. Ormond was in trouble as soon as I appeared. He was
willing enough that I might perish by treachery on the roadside, yet
he was extremely reluctant that I should penetrate Africa and make
alliances which should give me superiority over the monopolists of the
beach. I saw these things passing through his jealous heart as we
talked together with uncordial civility. At parting I told the Mongo,
for the first time, that I was sure my establishment would not go to
decay or suffer harm in my absence, inasmuch as that powerful Fullah,
the Ali-Mami of Footha-Yallon had deputed a lieutenant to watch Kambia
while I travelled, and that he would occupy my village with his chosen
warriors. The mulatto started with surprise as I finished, and
abruptly left the apartment in silence.
I slept well that night, notwithstanding the Mongo's displeasure. My
confidence in the Fullah was perfect. Stranger as he was, I had an
instinctive reliance on his protection of my home, and his
guardianship of my person through the wilderness.
At day-dawn I was up. It was a fresh and glorious morning. As nature
awoke in the woods of that primitive world, the mists stole off from
the surface of the water; and, as the first rays shot through the
glistening dew of the prodigious vegetation, a thousand birds sent
forth their songs as if to welcome me into their realm of unknown
paths.
After a hearty breakfast my Spanish clerk was furnished with minute
instructions in writing, and, at the last moment, I presented the
Fullah chief to my people as a temporary master to whom they were to
pay implicit obedience for his generous protection. By ten o'clock, my
caravan was in motion. It consisted of thirty individuals deputed by
Ahmah-de-Bellah, headed by one of his relations as captain. Ten of my
own servants were assigned to carry baggage, merchandise, and
provisions; while Ali-Ninpha, two interpreters, my body-servant, a
waiter, and a hunter, composed my immediate guard. In all, there were
about forty-five persons.
When we were starting, Mami-de-Yong approached to "snap fingers,"
and put in my hands a verse of the Koran in his master's
handwriting,--"hospitality to the wearied stranger is the road to
heaven,"--which was to serve me as a passport among all good
Mahometans. If I had time, no doubt I would have thought how much
more Christian this document was than the formal paper with which
we are fortified by "foreign offices" and "state departments," when
we go abroad from civilized lands;--but, before I could summon so
much sentiment, the Fullah chief stooped to the earth, and filling
his hands with dust, sprinkled it over our heads, in token of a
prosperous journey. Then, prostrating himself with his head on the
ground, he bade us "go our way!"
I believe I have already said that even the best of African roads are
no better than goat-paths, and barely sufficient for the passage of a
single traveller. Accordingly, our train marched off in single file.
Two men, cutlass in hand, armed, besides, with loaded muskets, went
in advance not only to scour the way and warn us of danger, but to cut
the branches and briers that soon impede an untravelled path in this
prolific land. They marched within hail of the caravan, and shouted
whenever we approached bee-trees, ant-hills, hornet-nests, reptiles,
or any of the Ethiopian perils that are unheard of in our American
forests. Behind these pioneers, came the porters with food and
luggage; the centre of the caravan was made up of women, children,
guards, and followers; while the rear was commanded by myself and the
chiefs, who, whips in hand, found it sometimes beneficial to stimulate
the steps of stragglers. As we crossed the neighboring Soosoo towns,
our imposing train was saluted with discharges of musketry, while
crowds of women and children followed their "_cupy_," or "white-man,"
to bid him farewell on the border of the settlement.
For a day or two our road passed through a rolling country,
interspersed with forests, cultivated fields, and African villages, in
which we were welcomed by the generous chiefs with _bungees_, or
trifling gifts, in token of amity. Used to the scant exercise of a
lazy dweller on the coast, whose migrations are confined to a journey
from his house to the landing, and from the landing to his house, it
required some time to habituate me once more to walking. By degrees,
however, I overcame the foot-sore weariness that wrapped me in perfect
lassitude when I sank into my hammock on the first night of travel.
However, as we became better acquainted with each other and with
wood-life, we tripped along merrily in the shadowy silence of the
forest,--singing, jesting, and praising Allah. Even the slaves were
relaxed into familiarity never permitted in the towns; while masters
would sometimes be seen relieving the servants by bearing their
burdens. At nightfall the women brought water, cooked food, and
distributed rations; so that, after four days pleasant wayfaring in a
gentle trot, our dusty caravan halted at sunset before the closed
gates of a fortified town belonging to Ibrahim Ali, the Mandingo chief
of Kya.
It was some time before our shouts and beating on the gates aroused
the watchman to answer our appeal, for it was the hour of prayer, and
Ibrahim was at his devotions. At last, pestered by their dalliance, I
fired my double-barrelled gun, whose loud report I knew was more
likely to reach the ear of a praying Mussulman. I did not reckon
improperly, for hardly had the echoes died away before the great
war-drum of the town was rattled, while a voice from a loophole
demanded our business. I left the negotiation for our entry to the
Fullah chief, who forthwith answered that "the _Ali-Mami's_ caravan,
laden with goods, demanded hospitality;" while Ali-Ninpha informed the
questioner, that Don Teodore, the "white man of Kambia," craved
admittance to the presence of Ibrahim the faithful.
In a short time the wicket creaked, and Ibrahim himself put forth his
head to welcome the strangers, and to admit them, one by one, into the
town. His reception of myself and Ali-Ninpha was extremely cordial;
but the Fullah chief was addressed with cold formality, for the
Mandingoes have but little patience with the well-known haughtiness of
their national rivals.
Ali-Ninpha had been Ibrahim's playmate before he migrated to the
coast. Their friendship still existed in primitive sincerity, and the
chieftain's highest ambition was to honor the companion and guest of
his friend. Accordingly, his wives and females were summoned to
prepare my quarters with comfort and luxury. The best house was chosen
for my lodging. The earthen floor was spread with mats. Hides were
stretched on _adobe_ couches, and a fire was kindled to purify the
atmosphere. Pipes were furnished my companions; and, while a hammock
was slung for my repose before supper, a chosen henchman was
dispatched to seek the fattest sheep for that important meal.
Ibrahim posted sentinels around my hut, so that my slumbers were
uninterrupted, until Ali-Ninpha roused me with the pleasant news that
the bowls of rice and stews were smoking on the mat in the chamber of
Ibrahim himself. Ninpha knew my tastes and superintended the cook. He
had often jested at the "white man's folly," when my stomach turned at
some disgusting dish of the country; so that the pure roasts and
broils of well-known pieces slipped down my throat with the appetite
of a trooper. While these messes were under discussion, the savory
steam of a rich stew with a creamy sauce saluted my nostrils, and,
without asking leave, I plunged my spoon into a dish that stood before
my entertainers, and seemed prepared exclusively for themselves. In a
moment I was invited to partake of the _bonne-bouche_; and so
delicious did I find it, that, even at this distance of time, my mouth
waters when I remember the forced-meat balls of mutton, minced with
roasted ground-nuts, that I devoured that night in the Mandingo town
of Kya.
But the best of feasts is dull work without an enlivening bowl. Water
alone--pure and cool as it was in this hilly region--did not quench
our thirst. Besides this, I recollected the fondness of my landlord,
Ali-Ninpha, for strong distillations, and I guessed that his playmate
might indulge, at least privately, in a taste for similar libations. I
spoke, therefore, of "cordial bitters,"--(a name not unfamiliar even
to the most temperate Christians, in defence of flatulent
stomachs,)--and at the same time producing my travelling canteen of
Otard's best, applied it to the nostrils of the pair.
I know not how it happened, but before I could warn the Mahometans of
the risk they incurred, the lips of the bottle slid from their noses
to their mouths, while upheaved elbows long sustained in air, gave
notice that the flask was relishing and the draft "good for their
complaints." Indeed, so appetizing was the liquor, that another
ground-nut stew was demanded; and, of course, another bottle was
required to allay its dyspeptic qualities.
By degrees, the brandy did its work on the worthy Mahometans. While it
restored Ali-Ninpha to his early faith, and brought him piously to his
knees with prayers to Allah, it had a contrary effect on Ibrahim, whom
it rendered wild and generous. Every thing was mine;--house, lands,
slaves, and children. He dwelt rapturously on the beauty of his wives,
and kissed Ali-Ninpha in mistake for one of them. This only rendered
the apostate more devout than ever, and set him roaring invocations
like a muezzin from a minaret. In the midst of these orgies, I stole
off at midnight, and was escorted by my servant to a delicious
hammock.
It was day-dawn when the caravan's crier aroused me, as he stood on a
house-top calling the faithful to prayer previous to our departure.
Before I could stir, Ali-Ninpha, haggard, sick, and crest-fallen, from
his debauch, rolled into my chamber, and begged the postponement of
our departure, as it was impossible for _Ibrahim Ali_ to appear, being
perfectly vanquished by--"the bitters!" The poor devil hiccoughed
between his words, and so earnestly and with so many bodily gyrations
implored my interference with the Fullah guide, that I saw at once he
was in no condition to travel.
As the caravan was my personal escort and designed exclusively for my
convenience, I did not hesitate to command a halt, especially as I was
in some measure the cause of my landlord's malady. Accordingly, I tied
a kerchief round my head, covered myself with a cloak, and leaning
very lackadaisically on the edge of my hammock, sent for the Fullah
chief.
I moaned with pain as he approached, and, declaring that I was
prostrated by sudden fever, hoped he would indulge me by
countermanding the order for our march. I do not know whether the
worthy Mussulman understood my case or believed my fever, but the
result was precisely the same, for he assented to my request like a
gentleman, and expressed the deepest sympathy with my sufferings. His
next concern was for my cure. True to the superstition and bigotry of
his country, the good-natured Fullah insisted on taking the management
of matters into his own hands, and forthwith prescribed a dose from
the Koran, diluted in water, which he declared was a specific remedy
for my complaint. I smiled at the idea of making a drug of divinity,
but as I knew that homoeopathy was harmless under the circumstances,
I requested the Fullah to prepare his physic on the spot. The chief
immediately brought his Koran, and turning over the leaves attentively
for some time, at last hit on the appropriate verse, which he wrote
down on a board with gunpowder ink, which he washed off into a bowl
with clean water. This was given me to swallow, and the Mahometan left
me to the operation of his religious charm, with special directions to
the servant to allow no one to disturb my rest.
I have no doubt that the Fullah was somewhat of a quiz, and thought a
chapter in his Bible a capital lesson after a reckless debauch; so I
ordered my door to be barricaded, and slept like a dormouse, until
Ibrahim and Ali-Ninpha came thundering at the portal long after
mid-day. They were sadly chopfallen. Penitence spoke from their aching
brows; nor do I hesitate to believe they were devoutly sincere when
they forswore "_bitters_" for the future. In order to allay suspicion,
or quiet his conscience, the Fullah had been presented with a
magnificent ram-goat, flanked by baskets of choicest rice.
When I sallied forth into the town with the suffering sinners, I found
the sun fast declining in the west, and, although my fever had left
me, it was altogether too late to depart from the village on our
journey. I mentioned to Ibrahim a report on the coast that his town
was bordered by a sacred spring known as the DEVIL'S FOUNTAIN, and
inquired whether daylight enough still remained to allow us a visit.
The chief assented; and as in his generous fit last night, he had
offered me a horse, I now claimed the gift, and quickly mounted in
search of the aqueous demon.