_THE RETURN THROUGH BAMBARRA._
Park’s resolution to return to the coast was taken on the 29th July
1796. His hope of accomplishing this purpose in safety seemed almost
as desperate as the task of going forward. Before him lay a journey
on foot of eleven hundred miles in a straight line, to which must be
added an additional five hundred for deviations and the windings of the
road. He had thus before him nineteen hundred miles on foot through a
barbarous country, where the stranger was considered fair prey, and
the laws afforded him no protection from violence. He was without the
wherewithal to buy food, and had only rags to shield him from the
violence of the weather and the maddening onslaughts of mosquitoes. In
addition he had to face all the horrors of the tropic winter, tornadoes
of wind, rain, and thunder overhead, swamps and mire under foot, and
flooded streams barring the way at every turn. The hardships were
sufficient to have killed any man of less indomitable spirit and weaker
frame. Even Park would probably have succumbed, but that he could not
die while his discoveries remained uncommunicated to his employers and
the public. Till then his work was only half done. With his death it
would be wholly undone--all his toil and suffering in vain. To reach
the coast was therefore now a point of as much importance as formerly
it had been to see the Niger.
His mind once made up, Park acted with promptitude and resolution.
He arrived at Silla on the 29th July. The night sufficed to determine
his course, and morning saw the commencement of his return journey.
It behoved him indeed to waste no time. A few days more and the
country would be impassable by land on account of the flooded rivers.
Already it was so on the southern side of the Niger--a fact Park much
regretted, as he had hoped to return by that way.
Crossing to Murzan by one canoe, he was there enabled to hire another
to Kea. Here he was permitted to sleep in the hut of one of the
head man’s slaves, who, seeing him sick and destitute of clothes,
compassionately covered him with a large cloth.
Next day, in proceeding to Madibu with the head man’s brother, he had
an opportunity of seeing a peculiar instance of the native respect for
private property under some circumstances. A large pile of earthenware
jars were lying on the bank of the river. They had been found there two
years before, and as no one had ever claimed them, they were believed
to belong to some supernatural power. People passing invariably threw
a handful of grass upon them, which Park thinks was to protect them
from the rain, but more likely was meant as a propitiatory gift to the
spirit--the practice being common over all Central Africa.
Some time after passing the jars the fresh footprints of a lion were
discovered. The travellers had accordingly to proceed with very great
caution. Nearing a thick wood where the dangerous brute was supposed
to have its lair, the guide insisted that Park should lead the way.
Unarmed as he was, the latter naturally objected, and urged further
that he did not know the road. High words followed, which ended in the
desertion of the negro.
There was nothing for it now but to proceed alone, lion or no lion.
With no small trepidation Park passed between the wood and the river,
expecting every moment to be attacked. Happily he was left to pursue
his way unmolested, and reached Madibu late in the afternoon. Here he
was joined by the deserter. While in the act of remonstrating with him
for his recent conduct, a horse commenced to neigh in a neighbouring
hut. With a smile the head man asked Park if he knew who was speaking
to him, and showed him the horse, which turned out to be no other than
the traveller’s own, very much improved by its rest.
Next day Park re-entered Nyami, and there was practically imprisoned
by three days’ continuous rain, the after results of which he had the
most serious reasons to fear. Nor were his apprehensions belied. When
he left Nyami the country was deluged, the fields knee deep in water
for miles together, and the pathways undiscoverable. Where not actually
submerged the land was one great quagmire, in which Park’s horse stuck
more than once, and had almost to be abandoned.
Next day the rain fell in torrents, detaining him again, and making
travelling almost impossible. With difficulty he plunged and floundered
a few miles through a swamp breast deep in water, and managed at length
to reach a small Fulah village.
With tracks obliterated and the country thus flooded, it now became
imperative that he should not travel alone. No guide, however, was to
be found to show him the way and assist him at difficult places.
For some distance he accompanied a Moor and his wife who were
proceeding to Sego with salt. They rode on bullocks, and proved to be
as helpless as himself. At one place one of the bullocks suddenly fell
into a hole in a morass, and sent both salt and wife into the water.
At sunset he reached Sibity, where an inhospitable reception awaited
him. A damp old hut was all he could get in which to pass the night.
Each moment he expected to see the rotten clay roof fall in--a common
occurrence at the commencement of the rainy season. On all sides he
heard the sound of similar catastrophes, and in the morning counted the
wreck of fourteen dwellings.
Throughout the following day it continued to rain violently, making
travelling out of the question.
On the 11th August, the head man compelled Park to move on. A new
danger, it appeared, had fallen on his trouble-strewn way. It had got
abroad that he was a spy, and not in favour with the king--a report
sufficient to close each head man’s door against him, and extinguish
every hospitable feeling in the naturally kindly heart of the negro. He
was now an object not merely to be treated with passive indifference,
but actively shunned as a possible danger to whomsoever should have
dealings with him.
With no small foreboding he re-entered Sansanding. Counti Mamadi, who
formerly had protected him from the Moors, would now have nothing to
do with him, and desired him to depart early in the morning. That the
head man in thus acting did violence to his own natural kindliness was
sufficiently shown by his coming privately to Park during the night and
warning him of the dangerous situation he was in. Especially he advised
him to avoid going near Sego.
This unpleasantly altered state of matters was further illustrated
when arriving next day at Kabba, he was met outside the town by a
party of negroes, who seized his horse’s bridle, and in spite of his
remonstrances, conducted him round the walls, and ordered him to
continue his way lest worse should befall him. A few miles further
on he reached a small village, but found no better reception. On his
attempting to enter, the head man seized a stick and threatened to
knock him down if he moved another step. There was nothing for it but
to proceed to another village, where happily some women were moved to
compassion by his destitute appearance, and contrived to get him a
night’s lodging.
On the 13th, he reached a small village close to Sego, where he
endeavoured in vain to procure some provisions. He heard, moreover,
that there were orders out to apprehend him, and it was clear that it
would be highly dangerous for him to remain an hour where he was. He
accordingly pushed on through high grassy and swampy ground till noon,
when he stopped to consider what route he should now pursue. All seemed
alike bad, but everything considered, he elected to proceed westward
along the Niger, and ascertain if possible how far it was navigable in
that direction.
For the next three days his journey was unattended with any worse
hardship than having to live upon raw corn, lodging for the night
having been obtained without much difficulty. It was different,
however, on the evening of the 15th, when, on his arrival at the
small village of Song, he was refused admittance within the gates.
The numerous footprints which he had seen while on the march had made
it abundantly clear that the country was infested with lions. The
prospect of spending the night in the open without means of defence
was therefore anything but pleasant; but it had to be faced. Hungry
and weary himself, he could still think of his horse, and he set about
gathering grass for him. With nightfall, no one having offered him food
or shelter, he lay down under a tree close to the gate, but dared not
allow himself to sleep. With leaden shoon the minutes passed. Every
sound was a note of danger, and in a state of painful alertness the
outcast wanderer peered into the blackness of night, ever expecting to
see a creeping form, or the glitter of two fierce eyes.
At length, some time before midnight, a hollow roar suddenly resounded
through the wood, apparently coming from no great distance. In the
darkness he could see nothing, strain as he might. To sit thus
defenceless awaiting his doom, yet not knowing when or whence it would
come, was intolerable, and driven frantic at last by the horror of his
situation, he rushed to the gate, and madly tugged at it with all the
energy of one who struggles for dear life. In vain, his utmost efforts
were as little able to move it as were his urgent appeals to touch the
hearts of the natives.
Meanwhile the lion was all unseen prowling round the village, ever
lessening its circle and drawing nearer its prey. At last a rustle
among the grass warned Park of its whereabouts and dangerous proximity.
A moment more and he would be in its fatal clutches. His sole chance
now lay in reaching a neighbouring tree. With a rush he gained and
climbed it, and then feeling comparatively safe among the sheltering
branches, he prepared to pass the night there. A little later, however,
the head man opened the gate and invited the stranger to come within
the walls, as he was now satisfied that he was not a Moor, none of whom
ever waited any time outside a village without cursing it and all it
contained.
From Song the country began to rise into hills, and the summits of high
mountains could be seen ahead. Even here, however, travelling continued
to be a matter of toil and danger, all the hollows through which the
road ran being transformed into nasty swamps. At one point Park and his
horse fell headlong into an unseen pit, and were almost drowned before,
covered with mud, they succeeded in emerging. One of the worst features
of such occurrences was the danger he incurred of losing his notes, or
finding them rendered useless--a misfortune which would have gone far
to bring the results of his toil to naught.
After the above mishap, Park rode through Yamina, a half-ruined town
covering as much space as Sansanding. Many Moors were sitting about,
and everybody watched him passing with astonishment.
Next day the road quitted the Niger plain and skirted the side of a
hill. From this higher elevation the whole country had the aspect of an
extensive lake.
His next journey brought him to the Frina, a deep and rapid tributary
of the Niger. He was preparing to swim across when he was stopped by
a native, who warned him that both he and his horse would be devoured
by crocodiles. On his hastily withdrawing from the water, the man, who
had never seen a European before, and now saw one minus his clothes,
put his hand to his mouth, as is the fashion among most negroes
of expressing astonishment, and uttered a smothered, awe-stricken
exclamation. He did not run away, however, and by his assistance the
proper ferry was found, and Park safely landed on the opposite bank.
In the evening the traveller arrived at Taffara, where he met with a
most inhospitable reception. This was partly due to the fact that a
new head man was being elected. No one would take him in, and he was
compelled to sit under the palaver tree supperless, and exposed to all
the rude violence of a tornado. At midnight the negro who had shown
Park the way--himself a stranger to the village--shared his supper with
him.
On the following march Park was glad to appease his hunger with the
husks of corn. At a village further on he found the head man of the
place in a bad temper over the death of a slave boy, whose burial he
was superintending. The process was sufficiently summary. A hole having
been dug in the field, the corpse of the boy was dragged out by a leg
and an arm and thrown with savage indifference into the grave. As there
seemed to be no chance of procuring food, Park rode on to a place
called Kulikorro, where his reception was more kindly. Here he found
he could relieve his wants by writing saphias or charms for the simple
natives. The charm being written on a board, the ink was then washed
off and swallowed, so as to secure the full virtue of the writing. The
practice is taken from the more ignorant of the Arabs, who think that
by drinking the ink used in writing the name of Allah or prayers from
the Koran they will derive a spiritual or material good.
Thanks to the demand for charms of this nature, Park was enabled to
enjoy the first good meal and night’s rest he had known for many days.
On the second day from Kulikorro he was directed on the wrong road,
whereby he was brought late in the afternoon to a deep creek, which
there was nothing for it but to swim, spite of the danger of being
seized by crocodiles. This he did, holding the bridle of his horse in
his teeth, and carrying his precious notes in the crown of his hat.
An obstacle of this kind, however, was but a small matter to Park,
who between rain and dew was now rarely dry, while the mud with which
he was only too frequently bespattered made a swim both pleasant and
necessary.
On this day’s march the Niger was remarked to be flowing between rocky
banks with great rapidity and noise, so that a European boat would have
had some difficulty in crossing the stream.
Bammaku was reached in the evening of the 23rd August, and proved to
be a disappointment in the matter of size, though its inhabitants
were remarkably well off on account of its being a resting-place for
the Arab salt merchants. The Moors here were unusually civil to the
traveller, and sent him some rice and milk.
The information Park obtained at Bammaku as to his further route was
anything but encouraging. The road was declared to be impassable.
Moreover, the path crossed the Joliba at a point half a day’s journey
west of Bammaku, where no canoes were to be had large enough to carry
his horse. With no money to support him, it was useless to think of
remaining at Bammaku for some months. He therefore made up his mind to
go on, and if his horse could not be got across the river, to abandon
it and swim across alone.
[Illustration: BAMMAKU.]
In the morning, however, he heard from his landlord of another and more
northerly road, by way of a place called Sibidulu, where he might be
enabled to continue his journey through Manding. An itinerant musician,
going in the same direction, agreed to act as guide.
At first Park was conducted up a rocky glen, but had not gone many
miles when his companion discovered that he had taken the wrong road,
the right one being on the other side of the hill. Not seeing it to be
his duty to repair his blunder as far as possible, the guide threw his
drum over his shoulder and continued his way over the rocks, whither
Park could not follow him on horseback, but had to return to the plain
and find his way himself.
Happily he succeeded in striking a horse track, which proved to be the
right road; and soon he had reached the summit of the hill, where an
extensive landscape spread out before him. The plain at his feet was
half submerged under the Niger waters, which at one place spread out
like a lake, at another were gathered into a curving river, while far
to the south-east, in the hazy sheen of distance, the summits of the
Kong Mountains could be dimly descried.
Towards sunset the road descended into a delightful valley, leading to
a romantically situated village named Kuma. Here Park for once met with
a pleasant welcome. Corn and milk in abundance were placed ready for
himself, and abundance of grass for his horse. A fire even was kindled
in the hut set apart for him, while outside the natives crowded round
him in naïve wonderment, asking him a thousand questions.
Fain would Park have lingered in this village to rest and recruit,
but an eager longing possessed him to push on, lest the loss of a day
should prove fatal to his further progress. Two shepherds proceeding
in the same direction as himself agreed to accompany him. In some
respects the road proved to be more difficult and dangerous than
anything he had previously passed. At places the ascent was so sharp,
and the declivities so great, that a single false step would have
caused his horse to be dashed to pieces at the bottom of the precipices.
Finding that they were able to travel faster than their white
companion, the shepherds after a time pushed on by themselves. Shortly
afterwards, shouts and screams of distress apprised Park that something
had gone wrong ahead. Riding slowly towards the place whence the alarm
had seemed to proceed, and seeing no one, he began to call aloud, but
without receiving any answer. By-and-by, however, he discovered one
of the shepherds lying among the long grass near the road. At first
his conclusion was that the man was dead, but on getting nearer him he
found that he was still alive, and was told in a whisper that the other
had been seized by a party of armed men.
On looking round, Park was alarmed to discover that he was himself in
imminent danger. A party of six or seven men armed with muskets were
watching him. Escape being impossible, he considered it his best course
to ride towards them. As he approached he assumed an air of unconcern,
and pretending to take them for elephant hunters, he asked if they had
shot anything. For answer one of the party ordered him to dismount;
then, as if thinking better of it, signed to him to go on. Nothing
loth, Park rode forward, glad to be relieved from the fear of further
ill-treatment.
His relief, however, was of short duration. A loud hullo brought him
suddenly to a standstill. Looking round, he saw the robbers--for such
they were--running towards him. Park stopped to await their coming.
He was then told that they had been sent by the King of Fulahdu to
bring him and all that belonged to him to his capital. Park, to avoid
ill-treatment, unhesitatingly agreed to follow them, and in silence
the party travelled across country for some time. A dark wood was at
last reached. “This place will do,” said one of the party, and almost
simultaneously the unfortunate traveller was set upon, and his hat
torn from his head. To lose his hat was like losing his life, for
it contained all that made life dear to him for the time being. He
betrayed no sign of trouble, however, but simply declared that he would
go no further unless his hat was returned.
For answer one of the band drew a knife, and cut the last metal button
from Park’s waistcoat. The others then proceeded to search his pockets,
which he permitted them to do without resistance. Finding little to
satisfy their rapacity, they stripped him naked. His very boots, though
so sadly dilapidated as to need a part of his bridle-rein to keep the
soles on, were minutely examined. Yet even at this lowest depth of
ignominy his paramount thought was his work. He could endure the loss
of the last shred of clothing, but to be deprived of his notes and
his compass was insupportable. Seeing the latter lying on the ground,
he begged to have it returned to him. In a passion one of the robbers
picked up his musket and cocked it, declaring that he would shoot him
dead on the spot.
Humanity, however, was not quite suppressed in the hearts of these
scoundrels, for after a moment’s deliberation they returned him a
shirt and a pair of trousers. As they were about to depart the one
who had taken his hat jeeringly tossed it back to him. Never with
more eagerness and delight did despairing mother gather to her bosom
a long lost child, than did Park to his the battered remnant of a hat
which contained his precious store of notes. With them there was still
something worth struggling for, hopeless as his case might seem.
Never surely was man more tried. At every step he had met with new
calamities, new obstacles, miseries, and dangers. Man and nature were
alike in conspiracy against him. And now he had to add to his previous
destitution semi-nakedness, and the loss of his horse. With hundreds
of miles still before him, how could he hope to run the gauntlet of
the fresh difficulties and dangers he would undoubtedly have to face?
Yet even as he conjured up before his mind the perils ahead from wild
beasts and evilly disposed men, from swamp and flood, from wind and
rain, he began to take comfort as he recalled to mind his numerous
past escapes, which were to him as proofs positive of a protecting
Providence which never yet had failed him in his hour of need.
As his thoughts took a more hopeful turn, and his sanguine temperament
and rooted faith in a God who overruled all things reasserted their
influence, Park’s gaze fell upon a tuft of moss. Irresistibly his mind
was diverted from the horrors of his position to the beauty of the
lowly plant before him. As he examined with admiration its delicate
conformation, the thought occurred to him, “Can that Being who planted,
watered, and brought to perfection in this obscure part of the world a
thing which appears of so small importance, look with unconcern upon
the situation and sufferings of creatures formed after His own image?
Surely not!”
The next moment the old spirit came back to him. Not yet would he
succumb. While there was life in him he would struggle, and while
he could struggle there was hope. Starting up, he pushed forward
once more, assured in his mind that relief was at hand. Nor was he
disappointed. Near a small village he found the two shepherds, in whose
company he once more proceeded, till at sunset they entered Sibidulu,
his destination for the time being.