_CHILDERS_: WEST COAST OF AFRICA
[Sidenote: 1837. Aug. 24.]
Adieu to Mediterranean and civilisation! We were ordered to Portendick,
the northern limit of the West African and Cape of Good Hope station.
[Sidenote: Sept. 5.]
Called at Portendick.
[Sidenote: Sept. 24.]
Arrived at Sierra Leone. Here we received our proportion of Kroomen,
the most useful and intelligent of natives, who relieved our men of
much sun work. As they were discharged, on their ships leaving the
station, they were at liberty to volunteer for any ships they fancied.
We were not long in completing our complement of twenty-four. The
native names of these Kroomen were so incomprehensible that on their
first joining a man-of-war the Captain had to find names for the
ship’s books. Thus, among those left with me were “Doctor Inman,”
“Sea-breeze,” “No Grog,” “Prince of Wales,” “Bishop of London.” It
would be tedious to name them all. They were good-tempered and willing
fellows; thoroughly acquainted with the coast.
During the few days that it was necessary for me to remain in this
picturesque, but sickly harbour, the _Harpy_, 10, Hon. George Clements,
arrived with a returned prize crew from the West Indies. (His sister
had married my clergyman brother.) He had fever on board, and had lost
many men. The day before sailing the poor fellow dined with me. He told
me the night previous he had heard bodies dropped into the river from
merchant ships near.
The wind blows chiefly off the coast, and when the _Harpy_ sailed with
her sickly crew, the officers went aloft to assist in loosing sails.
Poor George Clements! From the kind way in which he pressed on me a
gold chain he had worn, I do not think he expected to live long.
[Sidenote: Oct. 1.]
Left Sierra Leone October 1, _Saracen_ in company.
[Sidenote: Oct. 3.]
Parted company with the _Saracen_, who went to look into the Gallinas
for slavers. We continued about fifty miles off shore.
[Sidenote: Oct. 7.]
At 2 P.M. being abreast of the Penguin, frequented by slavers, who
take in rice prior to embarking a cargo. Bore up and furled upper
sails. After dark came to off the mouth of the river; sent pinnace,
with Lieutenant Goldsmith, and cutter, with Acting Lieutenant Noad, to
reconnoitre.
I heard the following morning from an unemployed Krooman, “Prince
William,” who came off with others to barter for tobacco or anything
else they could get, that a slaver, having completed her water and
rice, supposed to be Spanish, had sailed the previous evening for New
Cess, a place about the spot where Trade Town is marked on the chart.
“Prince William” was an intelligent fellow; he had served on board the
_Primrose_, who had thus christened him. He had ECNIRP tattooed on his
chest. One of the _Primrose_ seamen had chalked his name on a piece
of wood, which he took home, and, making the impression, had his name
engraved backwards. He offered to pilot us in.
The pinnace and cutter returned about ten o’clock, having pulled up
the river against a very strong current. Several monkeys and curious
birds were seen, but, owing to the thickness of the mangrove bushes,
could not have been got at had they been killed.
This is a good place for canoes; the natives make them to any
dimensions in a short time. I paid five dollars for one about 30 feet
long and quite new.
Kroomen speaking English are always to be found along the coast, and
make good interpreters.
Got under way at eleven, and at noon fell in with a rakish-looking
schooner, who showed American colours and papers named “The _Peri_, of
Baltimore.” Her skipper was, I think, a Dutchman, but the remainder
of the crew were Spaniards. The log was kept in Spanish, and she was
evidently a Spanish vessel, having her water-casks in, and, with the
exception of rice, everything ready for a cargo of slaves. But no
Spanish papers could be found, and she got off under United States
colours.
We soon overhauled another Spanish slaver, who could not long, judging
from the smell, have landed her cargo. She had a Spanish captain and
crew, but sheltered herself under the Portuguese flag; she was a sort
of jackal, picking up cargoes for the larger vessels.
Until the last treaty with Spain, which entitles us to capture Spanish
vessels fitted for slaves, with or without slaves on board, the
Portuguese flag had scarcely been seen on this part of the coast. The
Portuguese papers are chiefly obtained at Porto Praya, St. Jago.
At 9 P.M., when off the Grand Canon Point, ten miles to the south-east
of New Cess, we furled square sails, hoisted boats out, and sent
away pinnace, cutter, and jolly-boat, under the pilotage of “Prince
William,” manned and armed.
[Sidenote: Oct. 9.]
At daybreak sent the gig to board a brigantine observed to be at anchor
about seven miles to the south-east. She proved to be the _Sarah Ann_,
an English vessel, belonging to a company of merchants, who have
purchased from the native chiefs several small spots of land along
the coast, on which they have built some wigwam-looking huts, where
they deposit a portion of English goods, such as broadcloth, muskets,
knives, beads, etc. These huts are styled British factories, through
which means a traffic is carried on with the natives, bartering their
goods for palm-oil or ivory. The Company send a vessel out every two or
three months, which vessel remains on the coast, going from one factory
to another, until their cargoes are completed, leaving one or two of
their crew and a few Kroomen at each place to carry on the trade.
The _Sarah Ann_ had been five months out, and had on board about seven
tons of oil. The captain and five of her crew had died; the remainder
were in a sickly state.
Although inexperienced and scarcely a month out, I could neither think
nor dream of anything but slavers. On visiting the British factory at
Piccaninny Cestos, a small thatched hut, nearly hidden in Jungle, I
found a sickly-looking lad surrounded by a number of natives, each of
whom brought a small portion of oil--about a gallon--in calabashes,
in exchange for a small measure of cloth. By way of protection, the
hut was surrounded by a high sort of railing formed of stakes, just
wide enough apart to admit the muzzle of a musket, by which means
the companion of the sick lad was shot through the head a few days
previously. This brutal act was supposed to have been committed by the
King’s son. I offered to set fire to all his black Majesty’s huts along
the coast, but was informed that by so doing I should put a stop to
the trade, which appeared to be of much more consequence than the poor
lad’s life.
[Illustration: _West African Natives._]
The natives are odd-looking animals. They are not troubled with too
much clothing, but besmear their face and bodies with mud by way of
ornament, and wear a necklace of pigs’ teeth by way of a charm, to keep
the devil at a distance.
I reached the ship at the same time as the other boats from this
expedition. They had pulled up in the dark towards the anchorage of
Trade Town, and at midnight were just able to discern their vessels
lying in the anchorage. Goldsmith directed that each boat should take
one, which they did by pulling alongside their respective vessels as
nearly as possible at the same time.
The pinnace boarded a fine schooner called the _Vigilante_, with
everything ready for a start. Her fore topsail yard was hoisted to the
masthead, her cat-fall was overhauled, and a luff tackle for weighing
the anchor stretched along her deck. The planks were arranged over the
water casks, ready for the reception of her slaves, who were always
brought on board heavily ironed. And even the articles, delicately
termed “poo-poo pots” by the boatswain, were placed on either side. The
crew were pretty well on the alert, considering the darkness of the
night. They hailed the boat before she got alongside, and her crew,
forty-five in number, rushing up from below as one man, each having
his particular station assigned him, took possession of the deck. Had
our boats waited two or three hours, she would in all probability have
been captured with 400 or 500 slaves on board. She, however, produced
Portuguese papers.
The cutter boarded a pretty, rakish-looking brig, which was immediately
recognised as the _Golenthokika_, a vessel which had been lying for
some weeks close to us at Barcelona. Her people were not quite so much
on the alert as those on board the brigantine. On coming on deck they
made a rush for the arms kept under the poop, but they found everything
already in the possession of our men. The skipper produced Russian and
Greek papers, under which countries’ flags he fitted out.
The jolly-boat also boarded a slave schooner under Portuguese colours.
As most of these vessels have a double set of papers, the Spanish ones
were in all probability on shore with the captain, none of whom were
found on board.
The men being tired, and the weather, as usual, rainy and dirty, we
remained that night at anchor, sending the gig to reconnoitre. The
following morning we got under way about an hour before daylight, and
stood towards the slave vessels. The ground between the anchorage we
were in and the vessels was rocky and uneven. We lost two hand-leads,
although we had nothing less than ten fathoms. The gig returned on
board when we got off Trade Town.
Goldsmith, who had boarded the brigantine again at daylight, found so
much prevarication in the captain’s statement that he brought him and
the papers on board for my inspection.
The man who came as captain was a Portuguese lad, but with an old head
on young shoulders. He stated the night he was boarded that the Captain
was on shore, which fact he flatly denied to me, and said the officer
must have been mistaken, although I had three men ready to make oath
that such was the case.
He seemed to know very well what he was about, and produced regular
Portuguese papers, signed by the proper authorities at Porto Praya.
He breakfasted with me, spoke very good Spanish and a little English,
and, appearing satisfied that all was right, smoked his cigar with true
Spanish indifference.
This rascal assured me that, having been captured only a few months
before by the _Bonetta_, when he was supercargo of a vessel with
upwards of 300 slaves on board, he was not fool enough to try his hand
at it again.
He stated that the vessel he was now in was his own property. Not being
able to prove his vessel Spanish, we let him go, wished him good-bye,
and hoped we might meet again. I then proceeded to land “Prince
William” at the Penguin.
Nearly the whole time we were on this coast we had hard and continued
rain--a great damper to zeal and slave-hunting.
[Sidenote: Oct. 11.]
Weighed in the afternoon and anchored at sunset in Buffon Bay. In
getting under way from Rock Cestos, a Kroo canoe got capsized by the
tow-rope getting under the bottom, turning three of the natives, with
their fruit, paddles, etc., into the water. It was curious to observe
the dexterous and expeditious way with which they emptied, and then
replaced themselves in the canoe.
Two of the men easily righted it, and commenced getting the water
out by pushing it suddenly backwards and forwards in a fore and aft
direction, afterwards by rolling it broadside, first one way, and then
on the other, by which means the greater part of the water tumbled out.
The third man swam away to pick up the bales and a paddle, returning
with one in each hand; while two of the men held on the opposite
gunwale, he very cleverly threw himself in, and baled her out in no
time.
The other two got in on either side; everything was picked up, and the
canoe again alongside in a very short space of time. As the water did
not hang long on their black, greasy skins, they, as well as their
canoe, looked as if nothing had happened.
I visited the British factory at Buffon Bay, which was an improvement
on the one at Piccaninny Cestos, really being a very comfortable
two-storey bamboo cottage built on a narrow strip of land about half a
mile in length, with the sea in front, the river Buffon bounding the
north-west. On the south-east is an impenetrable jungle.
A black gentleman of Sierra Leone, by the name of Harleston, with a
few Kroomen and two or three natives, formed a little colony. Ivory
appeared to be the only article received in exchange for British goods.
The Resident informed me that good shooting might be had twelve miles
up the river, and those fond of the sport should go in a light canoe.
[Sidenote: Oct. 12]
From Buffon Bay stood well off-shore, and the next land was that part
of the coast between St. Andrews and Cape Lahon. When close in-shore
we shortened sail to topsails, and ran along the coast, keeping in 15
fathoms water, hoping to find myself at daylight about twelve miles to
windward of Cape Lahon Town, the principal place for traffic in ivory
and gold-dust.
[Sidenote: Oct. 15.]
Cape Lahon was wrongly placed on the chart, and a strong current set us
ten miles to leeward. We anchored for a few hours. A canoe, from which
I obtained information, pulled very cautiously three times round the
brig before its owner would venture alongside, and when he did so it
happened to be at the time our men were cleaning arms. Seeing several
with cutlasses in their hands, he gave the alarm, tumbled into his
canoe, and paddled away as if he had seen the devil.
They returned after some persuasion and friendly signs and signals
had been made to them, but nothing would induce any of the twelve
to venture inside or beyond the hammock-netting, where they perched
themselves ready for a bolt overboard on the first symptoms of anything
like treachery on our part. Even these savages had a smattering of the
English tongue, and could ask very distinctly for rum and tobacco.
[Sidenote: Cape Lahon, Oct. 16.]
I found out afterwards that their fears were not altogether without
cause, as Spanish vessels had been in the habit, when their cargoes
were not quite complete, of enticing these unfortunate negroes on board
under the pretence of trading, and then kidnapping them; not many
months previously their King, with twenty-four men, had been carried
off, canoe and all, and sold at the Havana. His Majesty was afterwards
restored to his country, but so broken-hearted and dispirited as to be
unable to assume the government. His son Antonio now reigns at Lahon.
They are a harmless and inoffensive people.
In running along-shore, which you may do about half a mile from the
beach in 9 or 10 fathoms, the coast has a beautiful appearance. The
country is thickly wooded, with trees of every size, colour, and
description, and the villages, which are always to be seen where there
are a few cocoanuts growing together, give it a lively and picturesque
appearance--a great contrast with that of Portendick.
A tremendous surf was breaking on the beach, and we did not see a
single spot for several hundred miles where any of our boats could have
landed.
After rounding Cape Palmas, the surf was considerably higher. The
canoes were formed much stouter and stronger, and appeared very clumsy
after the beautiful light skiffs of Sierra Leone, and what is termed
the Windward Coast.
[Sidenote: Oct. 17.]
Anchored off Grande Jack. The natives came off in swarms, taking us
for a first-rate trader. At this place we found that they spoke more
English, and consequently were more impudent, fonder of grog, and more
avaricious than any of the natives we had yet seen.
They brought off cocoanuts, cats, yams, monkeys, and gold-dust (the
value of which they understand perfectly well), as well as poultry,
limes, goats, and ivory, in exchange for which they took any old
clothes, seamen’s hats, marines’ caps, and stole the hand-lead out of
the chains. The whole scene of exchange, which took place on deck,
being new to us, was most amusing.
Every negro proceeded to dress himself in each article of clothing as
he received it in exchange. One was seen walking about the decks as
proud as Lucifer, in a perfect state of nudity with the exception of a
marine’s cap. Another put the trousers over his shoulders like a lady’s
shawl, and several had jackets on hind part before.
From Grande Jack we went to Grand Bassani, but the surf ran too high to
allow our boats to proceed over the bar up the river.
[Sidenote: Oct. 18.]
Bassani is a large and populous town, situated about ten miles up the
river, its trade principally gold-dust and ivory.
On the arrival of any vessel to open a trade with the natives, it is
customary to give the Chief what they call a _dash_, which is a present
of part of everything you have on board. No Chief ever neglects coming
on board for his _dash_, and without which little or no trade is
carried on.
Grand Bassani was the first place from Cape Palmas where a landing is
effected by Europeans, and then it can only be accomplished in the
canoes of the natives, about once in eight or nine days.
From Grand Bassani we proceeded along-shore, passing the mouth of
the Assine River, out of which the fresh water was rushing with
considerable violence. This river separates what is called the ivory
from the gold country, although both these articles are to be obtained
on either coast, to the eastward of Cape Appollonia.
[Sidenote: Oct. 19.]
We passed the town of that name, and in which stands an old British
fort, now abandoned, the first stone-and-mortar building we had seen
since leaving Sierra Leone.
[Illustration: _A Factory._]
In the afternoon passed Axine, where there is a pretty-looking fort,
on which the Dutch flag was flying. In the evening we anchored off
Dixcove, where by a ledge of rocks is formed a snug little harbour.
The rollers occasionally run in, but the surf seldom breaks across
the entrance, about ten yards wide, and close under the fort, on your
right going in. The boatswain, however, managed to get himself and two
Kroomen capsized in my canoe.
[Sidenote: Oct. 20.]
The fort, mounting 16 guns, stands on a rocky point, commands the
town, which, although it owns a King as well as a village a few miles
distant, the people call themselves British subjects, and are ready,
but not anxious, to fight for their governors.
We can scarcely interfere with their laws, except to put a stop to the
barbarous practice of sacrificing human beings.
The natives, who belong to a race called Ashanti, are inoffensive,
superstitious, and idle. I noticed a very decent-looking native--one of
the _cabocees_ or elders of the town--who had come to the fort to ask
permission to bury a woman alive, for being, as he alleged, a witch.
On inquiry, the Governor discovered the man had already done so the
previous day. He was in durance vile, awaiting the decision of the
Resident at Cape Coast, under whose authority are all the British forts
along the coast.
At almost every forty or fifty miles there is a distinct race, whose
names and customs are different, and who can scarcely understand each
other’s language.
At Dixcove the natives regard alligators as fetish or sacred. At Cape
Coast, a few miles from this, they destroy them. At Accra, I believe,
the hyæna is fetish.
On the western side of the town of Dixcove is a small river, and the
mouth being choked up with sand, it had spread itself into a swamp,
covering about half an acre of ground.
In this are many crocodiles, frequently known to devour goats, fowls,
etc., when near the banks. These reptiles, as well as snakes, are
considered fetish, and are worshipped by the natives.
Near the river lives an old fetish woman, who is held in awe and
treated with great respect by the natives. She is supposed to have
great power over crocodiles. I went with the Resident to see this
extraordinary fact. On being applied to, the old hag issued from her
hut.
She was covered with a sort of white mud-wash, and wore about her
person several absurd superstitious ornaments, such as a pair of goat’s
horns, some tiger’s teeth, and several pieces of gold. Her body was
uncovered down to the waist; her breasts hung down like the flaps of
an old saddle. She was nearly blind from age, and supported herself by
a long, mysterious-looking stick. The witch took her position under
a tree, and to my astonishment I saw one of these horrid-looking
crocodiles, after having been invoked and charmed for some minutes by
her (she held a doomed chicken in her hand, and while going through
many extraordinary gestures and motions, repeated some unintelligible
jargon), gradually emerge from the rushes on the opposite side, where
he had been entirely hid from view, swim across, and creep up the bank
towards where we stood. My first impulse was to bolt, but on turning
round I felt ashamed. A number of native women, with their children,
stood by, apparently without the slightest fear, so much confidence had
they in the power of the old woman over the reptile. I therefore stood
my ground manfully, and allowed the crocodile to approach within a yard
of me, and receive the chicken from the old hag at the end of a reed.
I certainly felt a great relief when the brute crushed the unfortunate
bird, feathers and all, which he seized in the most ungracious and
savage manner, and turned again into the river. I had seen crocodiles
before, both in the East and West Indies, but never heard of their
facing a concourse of people.
The people trade in palm-oil and gold-dust.
Mr. Swansen, the Resident of Dixcove, is a young man of about
two-and-twenty. He had very comfortable, roomy quarters in the fort,
and was the only white man in the settlement. Nothing could surpass his
kindness and attention.
[Sidenote: Oct. 22.]
Anchored off Elmina. Fort St. George, the chief settlement of the
Dutch, is the largest and handsomest place on the coast.
I saluted on anchoring, and the Governor immediately sent off a large
canoe to convey me on shore. I was shown all over the fort; which
mounts 62 guns, is of great extent, and kept in beautiful order.
The Dutch are very proud of this place, having taken it from the
Portuguese more than two centuries ago, retaining it ever since.
Fort St. Jago I was not allowed to see; it was his weakest point, and
the Governor wasn’t anxious to show it.
The Dutch Government carry on a traffic in slaves, under the plea of
raising recruits for their East India possessions. The negroes are
bought from the Ashanti chiefs, embarked for Batavia, and told they are
free men.
I observed several neat and comfortable-looking houses, with gardens
attached, belonging to the merchants, most of whom I met at the
Governor’s table, where I was hospitably entertained. Almost every one
spoke English.
[Sidenote: Oct. 23.]
Cape Coast is only nine miles to the eastward of Elmina, where we
anchored following morning.