BUCHANAN’S ADMINISTRATION CONTINUED--DEATH OF KING BOATSWAIN--WAR
WITH GAYTUMBA--ATTACK ON HEDDINGTON--EXPEDITION OF BUCHANAN AGAINST
GAYTUMBA--DEATH OF BUCHANAN--HIS CHARACTER.
When a frontier rests on a savage territory, a “good look out” must be
kept there, and upon every thing beyond it, as the Hollander watches
his dykes and the sea. Liberia had to watch an early ally and friend
of very equivocal character, already known as King Boatswain. He had
founded a new Rome, like Romulus, of ragamuffins. He had made a kind of
pet of Liberia, and perhaps intended to give up slaving, and take to
better courses. Nothing better, however, came in his way, till all his
courses ended.
The death of Boatswain, whose tribe was of his own creation, was
followed by confusion among them. Gaytumba, an unscrupulous and ready
man, with the assistance of Gotera, succeeded to the chief share of
influence in the tribe. The Deys, from whom the colonial territory had
been purchased, were near neighbors, and most convenient subjects for
the slave-trade. An assault was accordingly made, and many secured.
A small remnant of the tribe took refuge in the colony; and Gaytumba,
not seeing any reason why they should not be caught and sold under
colonial protection, as well as elsewhere, many were seized within the
jurisdiction of the commonwealth.
The northern region was thus black with danger, and the vast woods
which surrounded the settlements on the St. Paul’s, became suspicious
as a wild, unknown source of difficulty. There was uneasy watchfulness
for months; and such preparations as circumstances would admit, were
made for resistance. The storm fell on Heddington, a village at the
extreme north of the settlements.
A messenger sent to negotiate had been seized and put to death, and no
mercy was to be expected. All hands were on the alert. Twenty muskets,
which had been provided for the settlement, were prudently kept by the
missionary, Mr. Brown, ready loaded in the upper story of his house,
which had around it a fence of pickets. Two carpenters were at the
time inmates of the dwelling: their names deserve record, for they,
Zion Harris and Demery, constituted, with the missionary, the entire
force at the point of approach. Suddenly, in the morning before the men
began their work, they heard the yelling and crashing of three or four
hundred savages through the bushes.
This was Gaytumba’s tribe: Gotera was at their head, bringing with him
a pot to cook the missionary for his next repast. Harris and Demery
placed themselves quietly at the fence, confronting the negroes as
they came straggling in a mass, expecting no resistance, and exposing
themselves amid the low green leaves of a cassada patch. The two men
fired into the thickest of them, and Mr. Brown commenced a destructive
slaughter with his muskets overhead. As the mass heaved backwards and
forwards, a furious return of musketry, arrows, and spears was made.
Gotera, with some skill, disentangled himself with a band of resolute
men, broke through the pickets at one end, and came upon Harris,
standing defenceless, with his musket just discharged. He toned to
grasp a hatchet, as a last resource, but fortunately caught a musket,
which a wounded colonist, in running for shelter, had placed against
the pickets, and lodged its contents in Gotera’s breast. The death
of their chief was the signal for a general retreat. But ashamed and
indignant at not having secured the dead body, they attempted by a rush
to recover it, and were again and again driven back, till they utterly
despaired, and disappeared. This strange episode of war lasted an hour
and twenty minutes.
The forest recovered its suspicious character from the prowling and
threatening of the enemy spread through it; and there were reports of
the gathering of more distant tribes to join Gaytumba, to make the
work of destruction sure by an overwhelming rush upon the settlements.
The governor, full of warlike foresight, saw the remedy for this
state of things; and, after screwing up the courage of his people,
he planned an expedition against Gaytumba in his own den. For this
purpose, a force of two hundred effective men, with a field-piece and
a body of followers, assembled at Millsburg, on the St. Paul’s River.
About thirty miles from this, by the air line, in the swampy depths
of the forest, was the point aimed at. Many careful arrangements were
necessary to baffle spies, and keep the disaffected at bay during this
desperate incursion, which the governor was about to make into the
heart of the enemy’s country. The fine conception had this redeeming
characteristic, that it was quite beyond the enemy’s understanding.
The force left Millsburg on Friday, 27th of March. Swamps and thickets
soon obliged him to leave the gun behind. Through heavy rains, drenched
and weary, they made their way, without any other resistance, to a
bivouac in an old deserted town. Starting at daylight next morning,
they forced their way through flooded streams and ponds, “in mud up to
their knees, and water up to the waist.” After a halt at ten o’clock,
and three hours’ march subsequently, they learnt that the enemy had
become aware of their movements, and was watching them. About six
miles from their destination, after floundering through the mud of a
deep ravine, followed by a weary pull up a long hill, a sharp turn
brought them in front of a rude barricade of felled trees. A fire
of musketry from it brought to the ground Captain Snetter, of the
riflemen, who was in advance of his men. The men made a dash on the
enemy so suddenly that soon nobody was in front of them. The line moved
on without stopping, and met only a straggling fire here and there, as
they threaded their narrow path through the bushes in single file. A
few men were wounded in this disheartening march. At length those in
advance came to a halt before the fortress, and the rear closed up.
There the line was extended, and the party advanced in two divisions.
The place was a kind of square, palisaded inclosure, having outside
cleared patches here and there, intermingled with clumps of brush.
The assailants were received with a sharp fire from swivels and
muskets, which was warmly returned. Buchanan ordered Roberts (the
present president) to lead a reserved company round from the left, so
as to take in reverse the face attacked. This so confounded Gaytumba’s
garrison that they retreated, leaving every thing behind. The hungry
colonists became their successors at the simmering cooking-pots.
So rapid had the onslaught been, that the second division did not
reach in time to take a hand in it. The operation was thus completely
successful, with the ultimate loss of only two men.
The place was burnt, and a lesson given, which established beyond all
future challenge, the power of civilization on that coast. The banks
of the St. Paul’s River, with its graceful meanderings, palm-covered
islands, and glorious basin spreading round into the eastward expanse
of the interior, were secured for the habitations of peace and
prosperity.
Great and corresponding energy was displayed by Buchanan in civil
concerns. The legislature passed an act that every district should
have a free school. Rules and regulations were established for the
treatment of apprentices, or recaptured Africans not able to take
care of themselves. Provision was made for paupers in the erection of
almshouses, with schools of manual labor attached. The great point
was, that the people had begun to be the government; and there, among
colored men, it was shown that human nature has capacity for its
highest ends on earth, and that there is no difficulty or mystery in
governing society, which men of common sense and common honesty cannot
overcome.
Buchanan died in harness. Drenching, travelling and over-exertion,
brought on a fever when far from the means of relief. He expired on
the 3d of September, 1841, in the government house at Bassa. Then
and there was a remarkable man withdrawn from the work of the world.
Ever through his administration he illustrated the motto of his heart:
“The work is God’s to which I go, and is worthy of all sacrifice.” The
narrative already given is his _character_ and his eulogium. His deeds
need no explanatory words--they have a voice to tell their own tale.
The blow given to King Boatswain’s successor, Gaytumba, nearly
obliterated the predatory horde which he had collected: they were
scarcely heard of afterwards. A small portion of them seem to have
migrated northwards, so as to hang on the skirts of more settled
tribes, and carry on still, to a small extent, the practice of
slaving and murder, to which they had been accustomed. The Fishmen
tribe still continued to raise some disturbance. Certain points on
the sea-coast gave great uneasiness; these points were the haunts of
slavers. Merchant traders, at least some of them, came peddling along,
establishing temporary factories for the disposal of their goods, and
not unfrequently having an understanding with the slavers for their
mutual benefit.