The Foundation.]
[Illustration: THE FINISHED MANSION.
It is put up by two men in a couple of hours, including cutting the
grass.]
Baro presents a peculiar hygienic problem. The mortality formerly
associated with Jebba baffled doctors as to its cause. Baro, on the other
hand, used to be regarded as possessing peculiarly unhealthy conditions
in the marshy land along the river shore. Yet, with the exception of the
first year of railway construction, cases of illness have averaged few
and are now lower than ever. So much so that the hospital has been closed
some time as there were too few cases to keep the staff employed. There
are not many of that kind in West Africa. This qualified immunity could
probably be traced to personal precautions. The lesson should not be lost
by new-comers to the country, not necessarily new-comers to this part, as
the same principles apply all through West Africa.
There were other spots at Baro I should have been glad to visit, but,
being due at Lokoja—70 miles—the same night, at 11 a.m. I went aboard the
small steam-launch the _Rattler_ and commenced the 406 miles’ journey
down the Niger.
CHAPTER XXXVII
LOKOJA
First stage down the Niger—Lokoja’s past—The discovery
of the brothers Lander—Previous theories—McGregor
Laird’s enterprise—Eighty per cent. mortality—The 1841
expedition—Richardson, Barth and Overweg—Laird’s second
endeavour—The House of Commons scuttle policy—Its
reversal—First Fulani battle—Imperial control—Commerce of
Lokoja—Vessels at the beach—Loading boats—Freedom of contract.
“Steam at 10 o’clock, Cappy.” That was the order given by Mr Coleman
at Baro in the evening to the skipper of the _Rattler_ launch for the
following morning. “Cappy,” of course, was an abbreviation of Captain.
This commander was of the Nupé tribe, and the craft in his charge was
used by Mr W. H. Hibbert, Divisional Agent of the Company, for inspection
tours of the stations in his division. He had kindly sent it up from
Lokoja to save me waiting three or four days for a large stern-wheeler
coming down the Niger.
The wish, however, of several people that I should see the places in
which they were specially concerned made the hour 11 a.m. when the
_Rattler_ steamed away on the 70 miles’ run to Lokoja.
The launch, propelled by a screw, was 75 feet long, with a beam of 8½
feet, and 4½ feet deep, drawing 2 feet 9 inches. The boat is used as a
habitation by Mr Hibbert for weeks together as he travels up and down
the main streams and tributary creeks to visit the many stations of the
Company where produce is purchased by the men in charge and European
goods sold to the natives.
Just below Baro the Niger is 1,200 feet across, as smooth as the
Serpentine lake in Hyde Park. The banks of the river are low, in some
cases edged with narrow strips of sand and in others completely grass
covered. As one steams down, the crowded trees make a wall to within a
quarter of a mile of the bank, whilst in spots this thick wooding comes
to the edge of the water and continues along it. Occasionally, in the
background, are ranges of hills, giving a higher and less regular sky
line. Clear and distinct on the sand beaches crocodiles can be seen at
intervals snoozing in the sun.
This broad river is not so easy for navigation as it looks, for there are
plenty of shallows and submerged islands where our little craft might
easily run aground. “Cappy,” therefore, does not take a direct line, but
frequently has the boat in a diagonal course, as though he were tacking
against the wind, giving directions by a slight move of the hand to the
sailor at the wheel.
Although no stop was made on the journey down, it was quite dark
half-an-hour before arriving at Lokoja, where Mr A. Coombe, also a
fellow-passenger on the voyage from England and District Agent of the
Niger Company, was waiting on the beach with a lamp to guide “Cappy” to
his moorings alongside the bank.
Lokoja has a past. Not in the sense applied to Mrs Ebbsmith, but in
the place it has occupied in the record of West African exploration.
The story, even given briefly, may convey some notion of the climatic
deterrents on the one hand and, on the other, how the British outlook on
colonial expansion has changed—completely reversed—and how that policy
was, it may be said, almost involuntarily effected.
I do not propose, at least here, to take a literary jaunt along the 2,500
years since the Niger River was first mentioned by a writer, the worthy
Herodotus. I merely venture to sail lightly over the 82 years that have
elapsed since the course of the waterway was discovered by the brothers
Lander. That is done by reason of the very important trading position
Lokoja occupies and the dominating influence it has had in the political
advancement of the country.
The connection of Lokoja to the Niger is as strong as London is to the
Thames or Liverpool to the Mersey, though the famous African town does
not correspond topographically to either, for it is 337 miles from the
sea.
That part of the Niger was unknown to whites until the brothers Lander
came down the stream in a canoe from Boussa and, continuing, traced the
river to its outlet. Europeans had traded in the delta for hundreds of
years but did not suspect it was the same stream Mungo Park and other
travellers had struck in the hinterland.
Two men had, however, formed theories concerning the course of the Niger
from Boussa. One, Herr Reichard, argued in print, in 1808, that the
river took the line which was to a large extent eventually proved, but he
did not indicate accurately how it was disposed at the mouth. The other,
James McQueen, issued in 1816 a small publication in which he traced the
direction of the Niger to the sea; five years later he elaborated his
views in a volume, illustrating them by maps. As McQueen—a merchant of
the West Indies—had never been in Africa, his conclusion was scorned.
Nine years afterwards he heard its accuracy verified, when Richard and
John Lander came out at the southernmost arm of the mighty stream.
The news acquired by the Landers in 1830 that the river was navigable
from the delta, in 1832 induced two vessels propelled by steam to be
fitted out at Liverpool for trading up the river. The expedition was
financed and organised by the pioneer of British commerce in this part of
Nigeria, McGregor Laird. The vessels together carried a crew of 45, of
whom, in a couple of years, the climate killed 36. This heavy mortality
shocked people at home, and for some time the country was looked upon as
impossible for Europeans.
However, in 1841 another attempt was made, though for a different
purpose. Three steamers went out from England, carrying 145 persons.
Their object was towards the abolition of slavery solely by peaceful
measures. The officers were all drawn from the Royal Navy. The
expedition, like the former one, were absent two years, and although
the deaths were not so overwhelming in this case, they were appalling:
practically 33 per cent., for 49 succumbed. In the main design of the
journey nothing was effected. A piece of land was purchased adjoining
the river. The intention was to work it as a model farm, using free
labour. When the ships turned homewards the plot of ground was abandoned.
It was, however, subsequently to be one of the most-talked-of spots in
Northern Nigeria. Lokoja stands there.
In 1850 the British Government sent a small expedition, consisting of
Richardson, a German named Barth, and another of the same nationality,
Overweg, to march from Tripoli southwards across the desert and explore
the eastern territory of what is now Northern Nigeria. The trio broke up.
Mr Richardson died in Nigeria, and whilst Dr Overweg went to report on
the country in Lake Chad district, Dr Barth reached Yola, on the Benue
River, 467 miles from where it forms a junction with the Niger facing
Lokoja. Barth advised the Government that the Benue be utilised for
trading with the interior, Lander having demonstrated that the double
waterway communicated with the sea.
On the strength of Barth’s reports, and notwithstanding the deplorable
experience of the previous parties, McGregor Laird in 1854 applied to the
Government for permission to explore and trade on the Niger. His request
was granted and he built a steamer, the _Pleiad_, for the purpose.
It carried quite a mixed consignment, consisting of trading goods; a
zoologist, who was to pursue his own branch of study; and several native
missionaries in the service of the Church Missionary Society. Every
health precaution was adopted, including quinine daily; and, in striking
contrast to former results, after about five months every one of the
Europeans was brought back.
Laird’s expedition had proved so promising that in January 1857 he
offered, for a subsidy by the Government, to place a steamer on the
Niger and maintain communication between the sea and about 400 miles
up country. The proposal was adopted, and a few trading centres were
soon established along the route. These, however, resulted in friction
with the natives, and, after a period of three years, Laird’s death and
other causes were followed by abandonment of the centres and almost the
complete relinquishment of direct British interest in that part of the
territory.
Dr Baikie, R.N., who had been in charge of Laird’s first expedition, on
the second being arranged was sent out as British Consul and took up
quarters on the river shore which had been acquired for the 1841 model
farm and which in Baikie’s consulate was named Lokoja.
In 1868, in furtherance of the policy of the period to reduce, not to
extend, British influence, Baikie was withdrawn, and the Niger territory,
beyond a few miles from the mouth of the river, cut from our control. The
ideas of the day had been expressed by the House of Commons Resolution
of 1865, which directed that: “... the object of our policy should be to
encourage in the natives the exercise of those qualities which may render
it possible for us more and more to transfer to them the administration
of all the Governments with a view to our ultimate withdrawal from all
[West Africa] except, probably, Sierra Leone.”
Well, where pusillanimous Cabinets feared to go unofficial enterprise
boldly stepped, and, whether the Home Government wished it or not,
circumstances so willed that the Union Jack came to be eagerly
planted on the Niger territories and subsequently carried far into the
interior, or the British would have been hemmed in on the coast by other
Continental nations. The former attitude of general withdrawal had in
the course of a single generation become utterly discredited. In 1886
the Niger Company received its Charter, and from that time the peace and
prosperity of Northern Nigeria has proceeded apace.
Lokoja was the administrative headquarters of the Company. Here, in 1897,
Sir George Taubman Goldie—the Mr Goldie Taubman of those days—organised
the force to proceed to Kabba City, which was the initial occasion Hausas
were put to fight against their co-religionists. The care and thought
these pioneers gave to the study of local feeling and tendencies is shown
by the appointment for the first time of Mallams to accompany the troops,
and, like army chaplains, minister to their spiritual requirements. That
step prevented the enemy from undermining the soldiers’ staunchness
on the subject most likely to touch their sentiment, and it also
counteracted the risk of a jehad being preached on the ground that the
white man sought forcibly to convert the Mohamedans to his own faith.
It was from Lokoja that Sir George Taubman Goldie set out the same year,
and, with native regiments which numbered all ranks between 500 and 600,
defeated, in a two days’ battle, the Emir of Bida’s army, estimated at
from 10,000 to 15,000 first-class fighting men, including the famous
Fulani horsemen, who until that encounter had been looked upon as
invincible in war.
The Company’s Charter was taken over by the Imperial authorities at
the opening of 1900, and Jebba, 200 miles higher up the river, shortly
afterwards made Government headquarters.
If Lokoja does not possess the former political predominance, its
business importance is more than ever. The town may be said to occupy
a strategic commercial position. It stands, as has been stated, at the
confluence of the Benue and Niger rivers, which here are together about
two miles across.
The Benue flows into the Niger at an angle of 45 degrees and is navigable
to Yola, 467 miles distant. It runs through the Bassa country, remarkably
rich in agricultural and sylvan produce, of which not a tithe has yet
been tapped.
There are eight European firms in Lokoja, namely, the Tin Areas of
Nigeria, the British Cotton Growing Association, the Niger Company,
Messrs Pagenstecher, John Holt, G. W. Christian, J. D. Fairley, and the
Bank of British West Africa. The first five are buyers of produce as well
as storekeepers, whilst the remainder only engage in the latter form of
business. The exception to both descriptions of business is, of course,
the bank, which does not go beyond its own sphere.
Kabba Province, in which Lokoja stands, is noted for the rubber,
palm-kernels, and shea-nuts cultivated by the native farmers, with
comparatively little beeswax and a few hides. The Niger Company is the
largest buyer. Away from the headquarters, at Burutu, it is the largest
station of the Company. In the sheds I saw tons and tons of palm-kernels,
shea-nuts, rubber, and other forest products brought from the interior
and exchanged for British goods and for the small amount of Continental
articles which British manufacturers cannot make; and there are also
large cash transactions—in fact, most of the purchases are paid for in
cash—of which only a small proportion is expended on the spot.
This is not done at once, nor is it necessarily carried out with the firm
to whom the native farmer or trader has sold the produce. He is not the
man quickly to launch into outlay. He is cool, careful, calculating, and,
having disposed of what he has to sell, will sit down for two or three
days to cogitate on what he shall buy in the way of presents to take to
his folks at home. Having brought himself to the mood of expenditure, he
probably inspects all the stores before deciding where he is to bestow
his patronage, which may be no more than 5s.
A somewhat similar procedure is followed when he is a seller. Each
European firm will be tried and the amount it will give for the produce
ascertained previous to one being selected. Time is no object. If anybody
fresh from England and not conversant with native methods sought to
inculcate new ideas and method by refusing to pay the price offered and
declined a few days earlier for the native produce, then that merchant
would simply take it away and probably never bring more to the same place.
* * * * *
Lokoja has this difference from its Lancashire prototype, Liverpool,
that whereas the Mersey and the Manchester ends of the Ship Canal
are the water termini of sea-borne merchandise, Lokoja is a kind of
clearing-house for general distribution. To its beach are moored screw
and stern-wheelers, from 10 tons’ freight to the larger ones of the
“Naraguta” class, for freight of 600 tons; barges drawing 12 to 15
inches, for passing up the broad though very shallow creeks of the Niger
and the Benue, carrying goods of English make to the inhabitants of
districts which can give our home manufacturers those essential oils and
other products of the soil necessary for their industries, and which they
scour the world to discover.
To other parts of the beach come and go native canoes of infinite variety
in shape and size, some as long as vessels seen on European canals, and
decreasing by degrees until there is the plain dug-out made from the
trunk of a tree, in which the perambulating trader, with wife and child,
makes his peregrinations perhaps 500 miles up the Benue, buying and
selling and exchanging at the stopping-places, and at night sloping his
mat on a pole fixed horizontally, thus providing a house and shelter for
sleep. Lokoja is the great centre of them all.
It is also the Northern Divisional Headquarters of the Niger Company,
the division supervised by Mr W. H. Hibbert, and comprising 6 districts,
with 30 trading stations and stores, reaching as far as Ilorin in one
direction and Jemma and Loko in the other.
Loading or unloading the larger river boats is worth describing. Word
goes round the native town when the operation is to take place and a
great crowd of all sorts and conditions foregather to take a hand. There
is no elaborate and intricate supervision to ensure that each labourer
shall prove himself worthy of his wage. He is paid piecework in the most
direct, precise, and simple manner. The honorarium is rendered at every
load.
Suppose it is a case of loading fuel—wood—for a stern-wheeler. The corps
of workers assemble where the material is stacked, are given baskets,
which, being filled, they hoist on their heads, and half-run, half-walk,
close on one another’s heels, in a long, winding line to the boat.
As they pass along a plank from the shore to the craft there stands on
it a native clerk who hands to every person payment. Wages are high at
Lokoja, compared with what they were when I was up at Jebba three years
ago. At Lokoja, as in some parts of England, there is the cry of rise
in the cost of living. Consequently a few cowries no longer suffice as
an inducement for beach work. A journey with a load to or from the boat
is rewarded by a tenth of a penny. Nickel coins of that denomination
are sent from England for currency in Nigeria. The native name is
nini, pronounced neenee. Tenth of a penny is the minimum payment. Do
not conclude that these very casual labourers would be content with
whatever you cared to offer. Nothing of the kind. The tenth is for
a generally-agreed distance between the points of taking a load and
discharging it. Should the points be wider apart, two, three, or even
four tenths must be disbursed as each worker performs his, or her, task.
An amusing crowd it is that scampers along at this work: men, women, and
children of all ages and sizes. The most complete freedom of contract
obtains. Everybody is free to enter and head a basket, and anybody can
give up when they please. In hurrying over the narrow plank to the boat,
occasionally bearer and load will overbalance and topple into the river,
at which the noise of shouting with which the work is carried on will be
heightened by loud laughter, whilst the fallen warrior collects basket
and contents from the running stream and completes the task of depositing
his charge at its proper destination.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
LOKOJA—(_continued_)
A cosmopolitan town—A Baron Haussman—The Cantonment
Magistrate—Some of his duties—Expenditure and economy—King
Abigah—A plea for generosity—The hospitals—A black Bishop’s
legacy—The missionary question—Critics and the converse.
The commercial aspect of Lokoja has occupied the main portion of the
preceding chapter, but, of course, a large business centre necessarily
attracts other adjuncts of life. The coloured population is 13,484, of
whom 11,680 are natives of Nigeria and 1,804 come from Coast towns. The
72 Europeans are composed of 38 Government officials and 34 engaged in
the stores and missionary work.
Lokoja is a cosmopolitan town, in an African sense. It is Lagos on a
small scale. In it you can see the West African of every kind to be met
along the Coast belt, from the educated type of the Coast and portly
mammies of Sierra Leone to the Mohamedans of other countries.
There is thorough segregation. Lokoja proper may be described not even
as oblong but in the form of a narrow strip—nail-like—parallel with
the Niger. At one end of the strip is the native quarter, forming a
kind of oval head to the nail-shaped town. A wide thoroughfare—Camp
Road—stretches about a mile. At each side and sometimes a little way
back are the European stores, and at the further end—the point—the
Government offices and residential bungalows, the barracks, and the
hospital.
On the excellent principle of keeping European commercial development
separate from the purely native administration of the country—so that the
former does not disorganise the latter—that is fixed at Kabba. At Lokoja
the political officer has the rank only of Cantonment Magistrate, but the
heavy duties he performs, the hours I have seen him at his tasks, their
multifarious nature, and the way he has of “getting on” with all kinds of
people, all mark Mr Bertram Byfield as among the best type of official to
be found in British colonies.
He is the Baron Haussman of Lokoja. He takes as much pride in it as did
the famous improver of Paris in his own city or as a man might in the
garden to his house. Mr Byfield walks along Camp Road and into the native
quarter always alert to detect in the course of his peregrinations what
may be necessary for public health or convenience. He seems to regard
himself as always on duty. In the course of each of my walks with him he
noted half-a-dozen things to be done.
He has completely rearranged the market on the plan of Sir Hesketh
Bell’s model town-planning. The streets are in straight lines and run
sideways and at right-angles to one another. To an eminence high enough
to be approached by a zigzag path he has removed the Court house of
the Alkali, in order that cases may be heard clear of the turmoil of
the market-place. Cheaply-made bridges he has placed across dykes, and
so given a short and direct cut between parts of the native quarter
formerly connected only by a long detour. Another phase of his daily life
is holding his Court for the trial of offences which do not go on the
“list” of the Alkali.
The first occasion I called on Mr Byfield he was doing none of these more
or less dignified acts, but (also in pursuance of his duties), of all
things in the world, haggling over the price of old, disused kerosene
cans from the military people! Such is the variety to which the qualities
of capable officials in Northern Nigeria have to be turned.
What has the Cantonment Magistrate—he really should be a Resident—to do
with cast-off kerosene cans? you ask. This. Although there is a sort
of native Mayor and municipality—all appointed by the C.M.—for the
native quarter of the town, the C.M. must see that they carry out his
directions, for he would be held answerable if a serious outbreak of
illness occurred. They needed the tins for hygienic use. But, again, why
haggle over 3d. more or 3d. less per can? Because the strictest economy
is the order of the day in Nigeria, and if when the accounts came to be
overlooked the Governor saw that the C.M. of Lokoja had paid more than
somebody elsewhere, His Excellency would demand the reason why.
You may remark that the procedure is straining a principle to pedantry,
as the expenditure merely transfers money from one public department to
another. Your assumption would be incorrect—at all events, incomplete.
The outlay on military needs comes out of the general funds, raised
by Customs, and by further revenue on all classes of the population,
European as well as other; whereas such local requirements as the
cans are discharged by direct native taxation. British administration
says that whilst it is fair and proper that indigenous dwellers should
pay taxes for increased advantages to themselves, every care must be
exercised that the money of these people is laid out with scrupulous
economy.
A historic figure is Abigah, King of Lokoja, with whose son I had the
illuminating conversation on domestic felicity detailed in Chapter XIV.
Mr Byfield kindly sent for the old man to meet me in the market. I had,
of course, known that the King had been brought by Dr Barth to Europe
and that he had visited England and seen Woolwich Arsenal. He told me
that Dr Barth also took him to Berlin, and introduced him to the Emperor
William I. (then simply King of Prussia), who, noticing Abigah’s strong
and healthy appearance, tapped him on the chest and declared he was “a
piece of black mahogany.” Although more than 50 years have passed, Abigah
is still as active in walking as a young fellow. He speaks English quite
well, not in the pidgeon manner.
I omitted to ask what the King’s means are. As he must be over 70 years
of age and has been useful to England since Barth visited Lokoja, I
hope the Government of Nigeria will take care that the old man’s latter
days are not embittered by poverty. This remark is made as I had heard
up-country he was badly off. I am sorry the matter slipped my memory when
speaking to Mr Byfield. In maintaining our rule in Northern Nigeria we
depend so much on the cordial co-operation of the native, natural leaders
of the people that it would be a great pity to jeopardise our good name
for fair-dealing towards those whose supreme functions we have taken over
by failing to be not only strictly just but somewhat generous in a case
where that would be no more than discharging an obligation of honour, for
Abigah has always been a staunch friend of the British.
At the other end of the town is the hospital, which fills an exceptional
place in a mental survey of Nigeria. There are two routes from the Coast
to the interior. One is by the railway from Lagos, the other the river
route from Forcados. Along the former line, besides the large hospital at
Lagos, there is a similar establishment at Zungeru, as well as a smaller
one at Ibadan, and, all being on the railway, a patient living near the
line is within easy reach of any of them.
On the river route, and then beyond it from Baro right up inland,
there is no hospital approaching to that of Lokoja in size, technical
resources, and with the unspeakable blessing of feminine nursing.
Do not, however, expect an institution the dimensions of those in English
cities. The term Lokoja Hospital really means two hospitals—for Europeans
and for natives. The first is of wood, bungalow shape, raised from the
ground and resting on iron pillars with stone foundations. There is
accommodation for 10 beds in wards made mosquito-proof, as is also the
nurses’ sitting-room.
Everything is done in a thorough, systematic way, for which purpose a
laboratory and an operating room are provided. One of the patients came
from Forcados. When there he was ill. Not sufficiently so to be invalided
home but too low in health to remain. So he had been sent the 337 miles
up the Niger to Lokoja Hospital to be nursed and was about to be returned
“as good as new.”
The staff consists of a senior medical officer, a medical officer, four
nurses, and two Sergeants of the Royal Army Medical Corps, who are
storekeeper and dispenser.
The hospital for natives is several hundred yards away. A brick building
90 feet long, it holds 35 beds, of which 2 (in a separate room) are for
women, though there are seldom in-patients of that sex. The principal
complaints which bring men towards the end of the year are sciatica,
lumbago, and bronchitis. Malaria is always represented, but the most
common case is tape-worm, due to dirty food. The operating-room and
dispensary are in buildings apart from the wards.
The two white doctors have as assistants here—all natives—a wardmaster
and three dressers, and also as dressers one Corporal and three orderlies
of the Northern Nigeria Regiment.
In no part of Northern Nigeria is the native population, in health or in
sickness, more solicitously watched than in Lokoja.
There are two further features of life in Lokoja which should not be
ignored. One is the military, the other the missionary. The former is
dealt with in Chapter XXXIII; as to the latter, I make no pretence
about looking upon that aspect of European influence, as a rule, with
disfavour. In one case I have criticised with perhaps extreme severity.
All the same, I hope I have the spirit of fairness, and it is only bare
fairness to say what is done by the Church Missionary Society in Lokoja.
The compound in which the house stands presents the gladsome sight of
trees bearing oranges, guava, mangoes and sweet cassava. The only other
orange tree in any part of the town is at the local headquarters of the
Public Works Department. Apart from bananas, native cultivation of fruit
in those parts of Nigeria through which I have passed is practically nil.
But wherever there is a branch of the Church Missionary Society there you
will see fruit trees. That is due to the late Bishop Crowther, in whose
day all missionaries in Nigeria were, like himself, blacks. He insisted
on every station showing at least one fruit tree flourishing.
It has been said, times out of number, in Nigeria and in many other
lands, that the net result of even secular missionary education in most
instances spoils the natives; that their innate reliable qualities
are destroyed, and only the rote, not the practice, of ethics adopted
instead. I merely express what is stated by opponents of the movement,
without confirming or denying. But it is proper that the other side of
the question should be given at a place where I had a better opportunity
than anywhere else of learning what was being done there. The station at
Lokoja is in charge of Archdeacon J. L. Macintyre.
The allegation of denationalising the native is warmly repudiated, as
is that of spoiling him by unduly indulgent treatment and by overpaying
those who may be employed and thus making them discontented for service
with anybody else. I give a plain statement of the educational scheme
carried out at Lokoja. No child is allowed to learn English till he or
she can read their own language, i.e., Nupé, Yoruba, or Hausa. When
passed in vernacular reading, children enter Standard I. and begin
to learn English, though all the teaching is in the native tongue.
On emerging satisfactorily from Standard IV., which is as far as is
taught in the C.M.S. schools, a boy of good character may be engaged
as a pupil teacher for three years. He is paid 7s. 6d. a month during
the first year, increasing to 10s. and 12s. 6d. monthly in the second
and third years respectively. A simple, native dress is provided. The
pupil teachers teach five hours a day in school and receive two hours’
instruction out of school hours. They are given quarters and shown how
to play cricket and football. At the end of the three years’ course the
boys are free to leave. The majority go as clerks to Government offices
or merchants’ stores, but some stay as assistant schoolmasters at £1 a
month, that amount rising annually 2s. 6d.
These details are set out for the reason stated above, and, I am
informed, far from young natives being spoilt by the C.M.S., the
grievance of the officers of that body is that their efforts to retain
and conserve the simple habits of the country are frequently nullified by
the action of those who disseminate the complaints.
Elsewhere I have been so severe a critic on the lay issues of missionary
work that the least I can do, in the attempt not to be one-sided, is
to pay a tribute of reverence to those who labour in what they regard
as a sacred purpose. An example of their self-sacrifice is Archdeacon
Macintyre. When with him he was in anything but robust health. Really, he
should go to Europe to recuperate. The doctor urged that course, but Mr
Macintyre was trying his utmost to avoid peremptory invaliding orders. A
few days earlier he had got up from a sharp and trying attack of malarial
fever, and was about to take a trip down the Niger, to be followed by a
week on an Elder-Dempster liner at anchor off the mouth of the river,
in the hope that the double change would patch him up for the remainder
of his term. Twice he has had the dangerous blackwater fever. Disagree
as one may from the outlay and the result of missionary efforts in West
Africa, one must admire and honour the spirit shown by the noble men and
women who give health and life for the cause, sacrificing these precious
possessions in silent and obscure countries as freely as a soldier dies
in a blaze of glory and renown.
I had several talks with Mr Macintyre, who, of course, had been
made aware of my views on the subject of his work. We discussed it
unreservedly. I said the position seemed to me that he was wearing
himself out to small attainment, when there were so many heathens of
our own colour, so much pain, poverty and misery in the great cities of
Britain. Why, I asked, could not he and others look there instead of
perceptibly putting themselves into the grave in malarious West Africa?
Mr Macintyre, whose age is probably about the thirties, replied that
there were plenty of regenerating agencies in England if properly
systemised and organised. He had been a curate, he related, in a poor
district, and the various religious and philanthropic bodies tumbled
over each other there in discharging their several tasks. There were
more than enough persons to do all that was called for in England. There
was no opportunity to break new ground. In West Africa, however, a man
could feel he had fresh, untouched, unspoilt material to work upon and
consequently facilities for tangible achievement; a man could be sure of
doing something.
To do this something you see splendid fellows, of whom J. L. Macintyre is
a type, sacrificing strong frames to a wasting condition, enfeebled and
weak. He is paying still higher, for I gather that he has the happiness
of a wife and a home in England. He is here on what he looks upon as his
duty. I repeat, splendid. But, with much admiration and personal esteem,
I remain unconvinced.
Four clear days were spent at Lokoja. In no corresponding period of
the journey did I make more friends; at no place experienced a greater
willingness to assist in obtaining information. Nowhere did I receive
more individual kindness in the time; nowhere met better fellows. The
four days were strenuous ones, spent amidst a torrid, damp atmosphere,
but each hour was fully enjoyable and I said _au revoir_ with regret at
parting.
CHAPTER XXXIX
NAVIGATING THE NIGER
Rise and fall—A tideless stream—Comfort afloat—The uncertain
river—Nasaru the Pilot—Altered channels—When aground—Breakdown
of machinery and smart repair—Tropical scenery—The crocodiles’
rest—Riverside villages—Where money is ignored—Estimation
for old bottles and tins—Harmattan fog—An island trading
station—Hazard and skill to maintain a time-table.
The River Niger at Lokoja should not be likened to the fickleness of
a woman but to the quick alternating of moods which distinguish that
inexplicable and unfathomable sex. In a July the river has been less than
2 feet in depth, by an October it once rose to more than 35 feet. The
respective averages in the two months are 3 feet 6 inches and 31 feet 3
inches.
Not an easy river to use for transport of heavy material, as the fall
is as rapid as the rise, and by December it is generally below 8 feet,
reduced in January to little more than 6 feet. Until the railway, which
runs parallel to the river, starting at Lagos, 120 miles from the mouth
of the Niger, was recently completed to the Bauchi Plateau, the river was
the highway for goods eastward, i.e., in a line direct inland from the
sea.
At Lokoja where, as previously explained, the Niger is joined by the
Benue, the former is three-quarters of a mile wide and the latter more
than a mile. This two miles’ expanse has a number of islands, most of
which are submerged at the high-water months, but, whatever the depth
of the river, their positions produce currents running side by side in
opposite directions.
The Niger is tideless, in expression of ebb and flow; it is always
running seawards. The rise and fall of the water are reflections of the
rainy and dry seasons. But so long a distance have the floods to travel
from the higher lands and so many tributaries empty themselves into the
Niger and the Benue in the upper reaches that the wet season of one year
does not make itself felt on the navigable parts of the rivers until 12
months later.
The strength of the current, which varies from three to seven miles
an hour—always towards the same quarter—and the height of the river
considerably modify the time-table of the larger vessels. Lokoja to
Forcados, 347 miles, in the high-water season occupies two-and-a-half
days. Forcados to Lokoja, at the same time of the year, is a day more.
At low water you may calculate anything beyond the periods given, but you
should keep to calculating, not form any conclusion, for the precise, or
even approximate, day and hour you reach your destination are largely
on the knees of chance, in the matter of silted-in channels and quickly
formed sandbanks; and though the skill and alertness of the native Pilot
may evade these checks for a long time, he is sure to be caught by them
sooner or later and the craft held up from an hour or so to a question of
days.
I left Lokoja at 8 a.m. aboard the stern-wheeler _Mungo Park_, belonging
to the Niger Company. She is the latest passenger-cargo boat on the
service, carrying 220 tons on high water, drawing 5 feet, and 130 tons at
low water, drawing about 4 feet. There is accommodation for eight saloon
passengers, whose quarters are on the upper deck.
The vessel has electric light, electrically-operated air fans, and the
bedrooms are mosquito-proof. I say bedrooms advisedly, not cabins, for
the sleeping apartments are large, roomy apartments, with iron bedsteads
which do not need the generally indispensable protection from winged
insects of enclosing curtains. Every provision is here for comfort.
Though we have no ladies this journey, the skipper, Captain W. H.
Stephenson, has shown me, with pride, that their well-being has not been
overlooked, for special accommodation has been furnished for them.
To me this form of locomotion is ideal of its kind. The barque is
sufficiently large to give one the impression of being on an ocean-going
ship, whilst the uniform smoothness of the stream sets the mind at rest.
I am not oppressed by the uneasiness which ever haunts me on a liner and
which prompts anxious looks to discern if there are signs of the wind
freshening and enforcing a hasty retirement and abstinence from food.
Whatever befalls on the Niger, there is no mal-de-mer. The most sensitive
internal organism will not be disturbed.
We are propelled by two paddles at the back of the vessel and there are
extra large balance rudders for sharp movement of the craft. They are
frequently required at this season, as you shall learn. Our average speed
is 12 miles an hour. Cargo is carried on the lower deck, where native
passengers also settle.
There is only one European in the crew, the Captain. The other members
are the Chief Engineer and his two assistants, the Pilot, Bos’n, four
Quartermasters, and 22 deck hands. With the exception of the Engineers
and the Pilot, all are river “boys” from the towns of Onitsha and Aboh
and river villages.
The Niger Company does four-fifths of the cargo transport up and down the
rivers—trading goods up, produce down—making no preference in selection
between their own cargoes and those of firms who are side-by-side
competitors in trading at dozens of places. The exception to this
four-fifths division of carrying is Messrs John Holt, who have their own
boats.
The first day the _Mungo Park_ made 56 miles, measured by the direct
course of the river, to Idah. It was not much to show for the full day’s
steaming, but the way had to be picked very warily. Though the broad
river was certified as between 6 feet and 7 feet deep, that did not mean
all the way across; it only specified the channel along which such a boat
as ours could travel. Nor was the channel necessarily in the middle or
the side of the river; it might twist from the former to the latter, or
_vice versâ_; or it might take a zigzag course. As a matter of fact, it
described all these gyrations, with variations made from parts of them.
We tacked and turned from bank to bank; then, perhaps, for a few miles
heading straight down stream, along the middle of it, presently to
revert to forming angles and curves.
The guide to these evolutions is the Pilot. A Nupé, clad in the long
flowing robe of the Mohamedans, capped by a white turban, Nasaru remains
at his post on the bridge from dawn to dusk. He takes no rest or time
off. He has his food where he stands. His eyes are unvaryingly directed
on the surface of the stream, from which he reads the changing position
of the narrow channel. That is the only line we can thread without being
caught on a submerged sandbank.
How Nasaru remains awake all these hot, monotonous hours, scarcely
moving, his gaze fixed on an inappreciably altering, dull scene, is
remarkable. His principal movement is to raise his forearm at right-angle
from the elbow and extending the fingers as signs to the man at the wheel
which way to steer; and, without looking down at the instrument, he
frequently uses the telegraph to the engine-room to alter speed. The only
occasions during the 14 hours’ run that Nasaru relinquishes duty is when
he drops on his knees for the Moslem prayers. He does that on the bridge,
at the spot where he stands throughout the day.
It is imperative the river be watched so closely and unremittingly, as
during the low-water season the channel along which safe travel can
be made changes continuously and the course up or back may be quite
impracticable on the return. This is due to the sand washed down and the
pressure of the current wearing a channel where there is least resistance
from irregularity of the banks or any other cause, throwing the displaced
sand into the previously-travelled channel. How requisite it is to
visually trace the course was proved on our approaching a double channel,
one each side of a large sandbank, really big enough to be termed an
island.
[Illustration: A NUPÉ PILOT ON THE NIGER.
(See page 338.)]
[Illustration: MANICURE.
The fee is twenty cowries, _i.e._, about one-fourteenth of a penny.]
Nasaru did not like the look of the water. It did not now appear to have
the same depth as when traversed on his previous journey. The vessel was
stopped, and he went off in a small boat to explore the channel on the
other side of the island. On coming back from his soundings he directed
the _Mungo Park_ through the new channel, which gave 5 feet and 6 feet of
water, whereas we subsequently learnt that the one he had stopped at bore
only 3 feet 6 inches.
During the journey from Lokoja to Burutu three times we have seen
stern-wheelers fixed on a sandbank. Each occasion, after he had peered
through his telescope, Captain Stephenson remarked, with a chuckle of
satisfaction, “Not one of our Company’s.”
When a steamer of size goes aground there are three courses to be
followed. Perhaps only one or two of them need be resorted to. The first
is to try to get off by means of the propelling engines. If the vessel
does not readily respond the engines are stopped, as to keep them going
in such a position must cause the paddles to throw up sand, which,
settling round, still further embeds the craft.
The first attempt yielding no satisfaction, the next step is to have
the rowing-boat, slung at the side, brought to the bows and the anchor
put in it and taken to deep water, dropped there, and a steel hawser
attached. The other end of the hawser is led to a powerful windlass on
the stern-wheeler, and on heaving away—in landlubbers’ parlance, the
windlass working—the vessel usually comes from her grounding. For this
purpose a stern-wheeler of the _Mungo Park_ type carries three Trotman
anchors—respectively 10 cwts., 8 cwts., and 4 cwts.—besides the ordinary
patent anchor for general use.
But should the vessel be so firmly fixed that she cannot be moved off by
either of the means stated, then there is a third resource. At low water
every stern-wheeler tows a barge alongside. On the most severe form of
going aground the barge is piled with cargo from the stern-wheeler, and,
when sufficiently lightened, that vessel is drawn into the navigable
channel by again heaving on the anchors. But though the steamer has
floated, the heavily laden barge, which was alongside it, is now
itself obviously aground, so the cargo is once more transferred to the
stern-wheeler, the operation being carried out by a roomy rowing boat,
which may go backwards and forwards scores of times on the errand. Thus a
couple of days are easily consumed. Less haste, greater speed is an axiom
of navigation on the Niger for several months of the year.
Opposite the town of Onitsha, near where we stopped for native
passengers, there was a large depression in the bed of the river, which a
battleship would not cover, holding 40 feet of water, but no anchorage,
as the bed was rock. Yet the other side of the deep water gave no more
than 2 feet, except where the channel ran. It is easy enough to wreck a
vessel in these parts.
At the close of the second day, which accounted for 90 miles, we stopped
overnight at a point 10 miles below Onitsha and 146 miles from Lokoja.
A fog on the morning of the third day prevented a start until 7.30, and
later there was a breakdown of machinery, which brought us to a complete
standstill. The mishap was not a slight one. A fracture had occurred
to the shaft on the circulating pump, which forces water through the
condenser to cool steam that has passed through the cylinder. The shaft
was broken diagonally close to the flange. The nearest marine engineering
shops were at Burutu, about 170 miles down the river. Had we been
compelled to send there and wait for mechanics and new parts we should
have had to remain helpless three or four days.
The Chief Engineer informed Captain Stephenson that he could repair
and set the engines going with the material at hand. All the Company’s
large boats carry a forge, anvil and general outfit of tools. This Chief
Engineer is a black, a Sierra Leonean, trained by the Niger Company at
the Burutu workshops. He and his assistants were soon at work.
The flange was filed out, neatly fitted on the broken shaft by filing
key-ways and securing the flange in position by steel keys, forged there
and then, which held the shaft to the flange. I watched all this, which
was done with celerity, yet in a cool, matter-of-fact way, as though it
were all in the day’s work.
At the commencement of the repair no statement could be made as to how
long it would take. At the end of five hours’ close application the
skipper received the Chief Engineer’s report that he was ready for the
word to proceed, and, the engines starting very gently at first, in a few
minutes were once more full speed ahead.
All the way down there has been a full range of tropical landscape. At
some places the forest comes to the edge of the water and presents a
barrier to sight of what may be beyond. At other sections of the route
trees are not so crowded and stand a few score feet back, whilst where
they are more scattered there is opportunity to notice the arboricultural
variety, in which the palm always stands out distinctively against the
sky background.
Where a stretch of sand lines the shore or there is grass not shadowed or
hidden by taller growths, crocodiles are frequently seen at rest. They
sprawl on the sandbanks and seldom dive off unless the stern-wheeler
passes quite near. There are plenty opportunities for a rifle-shot at the
brutes, but he who fires does so at a risk of being fined £5, for that is
the penalty the Government has fixed to deter shooting from a boat.
The usual scenery of the bank is occasionally broken by a trading
station, usually consisting of two or three corrugated iron sheds placed
adjacent to the beach but on rising ground which the flood-level does not
reach.
Standing quite alone, many miles from trading stations, are the riverside
villages, enveloped on three sides by the forest. The architecture tells
that the Hausa country has been left. These lower-river tribes build
their oblong houses of bamboo, placed vertically. On the approach of
the stern-wheeler numbers of the male inhabitants paddle off in frail,
dug-out canoes and plunge in the water after anything pitched to them,
as though there were no crocodiles on the prowl. Bottles are the articles
most esteemed by the seekers of what they can get from the passing boat.
If a bottle and money be thrown together, the swimmers will always ignore
the coin for the bottle. Next in value are tin boxes of the kind which
have held sardines or biscuits.
[Illustration: A EUROPEAN TRADING STATION ON THE NIGER.
(See page 342.)]
[Illustration: ON A CREEK OF THE NIGER.]
Apart from this crowd in the water to pick up unconsidered trifles, there
is a turn out of villagers for the purpose of yelling a greeting to some
neighbour who is among the crew. The exile will have made a hoard of all
the discarded bottles and tins he could lay hands upon since the boat
last passed, and over they go to delight his kinsmen and friends.
Captain Stephenson, in order to assist my having a photograph of the
scramble in the water, told his personal steward boy to bring up some old
bottles. The lad appeared with two, saying they were all he could find.
He was sternly sent back and eventually produced six, declaring he knew
of no more on board. Later the same afternoon, as we went by another
village the skipper pointed to his steward boy perched on the deck where
he imagined he could not be seen, flinging bottles with both hands, as
quickly as he could pick them up from a pile of not less than two dozen.
They were his collection on the voyage and now he was giving them to the
folks of his home.
That night we stabled at a point two hours’ steaming below Aboh, having
done 64 miles since the morning. There was still a chance that, in the
absence of any but small mishaps—and not many of them—we should complete
the balance of 127 miles to our destination on the morrow.
We started at the usual hour, 5.30 a.m., but at 7 o’clock there was
an ominous check. A thick, harmattan, dry fog compelled us to anchor.
For what period we should remain no one could say. It must be until
the air cleared. To go on would be madness, sure misfortune. That was
plain enough, whatever remained obscured. Vision was very deceptive; the
nearest bank appeared to be half-a-mile away, whereas it was less than
200 yards distant.
An-hour-and-a-half, and the mist lifted, and again we were under way.
At places the depth of the narrow channel on which we glided became so
reduced, nearly on the border line of safety, that great care had to be
exercised and slow speed maintained for several stretches.
It is still broad, afternoon daylight as we pass Gana-Gana, 35 miles from
Forcados, and therefore only 30 miles from Burutu, which is regarded as
practically the same; so we may still reach the latter to-day.
Gana-Gana is the first trading station of the Niger Company from the
headquarters at Burutu. The river is a-quarter-of-a-mile across. In
mid-stream is a small island on which the station has been made. The
manager’s house is a medium-size stern-wheeler hauled up on the island,
The lower part of the boat is used as a store for bought produce; the
upper part remains little altered from when the barque was afloat, the
saloon merely modified to the conveniences of living on land.
A screw steamer has also been drawn up, roofed with corrugated iron and
is used as living quarters for the black staff. No one else remains on
the islet during the night.
In addition there are three corrugated iron sheds for stores and another
for trading goods. Produce is brought by natives in canoes from both
banks of the river.
This placing of a trading station on an island was of considerable
advantage in the old days when a general attack on a European store,
firing the building and murdering the occupants was a periodical
entertainment of inhabitants up the rivers. The station being surrounded
by water which had to be crossed gave the defenders a chance, with the
use of rifles, to beat off an assault.
All the trading stations are kept busy from morning to night, so there is
little likelihood of anybody in one experiencing monotony; but in former
days there was the additional exhilaration of always having in mind the
probable need of a sudden run for firearms to keep at bay a howling mob
of savages bent on killing and plunder. By comparison, things are quite
tame nowadays.
Although the river, broad as it is, gives practically nothing to spare
in depth, we spin along in the effort to reach Burutu to-night, but the
channel occasionally becomes so shallow that, unless we are to be run
aground after all, the engines have to be slowed; for, whilst it is
urgent to reach Burutu without stop, as a mail liner leaves Forcados
to-morrow morning for England and we have light cargo for her, if we go
on a sandbank the whole scheme must be upset and a week’s delay ensue.
That means, instead of the goods being directly transhipped, the labour
and extra expense of warehousing and handling them three times instead
of once. Therefore, notwithstanding the brief twilight is passing and
darkness coming on, the engines continue their regular sharp pulsation
and the stern-wheels strike the water with their pat-pat-pat sound,
and no halt is made as the night settles around, though we are still
some 20 miles from Burutu. Fortunately, the moon is clear. Nasaru looks
unflinchingly ahead. He has been doing so for 12 hours, yet he shows no
sign of weariness and appears as visually alert as he was at the start.
Should anything untoward occur to delay us, it is the skipper who will be
blamed. He is expected to be in time for whatever is to be transferred
from his boat to the homeward-bound liner. If he does not maintain that
time-table he must give a good reason why; it must be a very good reason.
Still worse is it for his reputation if he runs aground. That may be no
fault of his; still, he is judged from results. There is nothing like
being careful; an excess of that quality, however, means that dovetailed
arrangements and schedules are put out of gear. Whatever difficulties
or obstacles come in the path of a skipper of a large stern-wheeler on
the Niger—and many do—in thinking how to overcome any one of them he can
always murmur truthfully, as did Desdemona, “I do perceive here a divided
duty.”
Steadily, yet with unrelaxed caution, paddling, the miles between us and
our goal are reduced one by one, until, at nearly 10 o’clock, in the
distance there is a cluster of white specks, too bright to be stars. As
we move onwards it becomes plain they are the electric lights on the
wharf at Burutu. Half-an-hour more and we are up to them and at anchor.
It seems we have suddenly sailed into a new world, or, rather, into the
old, strenuous, restless world again. The long rows of large sheds, the
big arc lamps and the smaller ones together throwing a glare half-way
across the river, and the wide-funnel ocean ships and others of lesser
degree clustered, all tell you are at a large shipping port planted in
West Africa.
Nearly everybody ashore has gone to bed, but Captain Stephenson promptly
reports his arrival to Mr Price, the Burutu Agent of the Niger Company,
and word is brought back from him that the _Mungo Park_ is to leave at 6
a.m. for Forcados, so that anybody who desires to land at Burutu must do
so before that hour next morning.
CHAPTER XL
BURUTU
A port in a swamp—Training native engineers—A composite
village—Social grades—Medical provision—Mr John Burns on a
Nigerian river—Back to the sea.
Burutu, like Forcados, five miles lower down the Niger, was a mere
mangrove swamp, a forlorn no-man’s land. It has been reclaimed by the
Niger Company for headquarters, and is now a bustling, thriving spot,
large enough to be termed, by comparison, a small Glasgow in West Africa.
It has most of the characteristics of a port. On the 3,000 feet frontage
two ocean liners can lie end-on—there is always one berthed—and seven
of the eight hatches simultaneously discharging or loading; smaller
craft—branch boats of 1,000 tons to stern-wheelers and launches for river
traffic—are continuously bringing produce and passengers and taking up
country small goods, among which bags of salt occupy an important place;
whilst the coal wharf knows no rest. Awaiting shipment are 7,000 casks of
palm-oil. Recently there were 10,000.
Besides, there are three hulks converted from two old sailing ships
and a steamer. Two of the hulks are used to warehouse bulk produce of
palm-kernels and shea-nuts; the third holds coal. But the Company are
building a new coal wharf of two tiers to enable the coal ships to
discharge cargo direct into trucks.
[Illustration: THE NIGER COMPANY’S WHARF AT BURUTU.]
[Illustration: SHIPPING PALM-OIL
For direct transit to Liverpool. (See page 348.)]
Fifteen corrugated iron sheds, 90 feet by 30 feet, give accommodation
on the wharf for goods which should not be left in the open, and also
for the extensive engineering and carpenters’ workshops, under a white
Superintendent Engineer, who has with him three European fitters, a
boiler-maker, two shipwrights and a large body of skilled natives from
Coast towns. A couple of slipways take the river craft for repair, from
launches to steamers up to 700 tons.
The coloured staff of fitters, blacksmiths, turners, moulders, and the
rest of them are men from Sierra Leone, the Gold Coast, and Nigeria. They
serve apprenticeship in the Company’s engineering shops for five years.
If their conduct has been satisfactory they will be graded as improvers.
Next they may be drafted on a river boat as third engineers, rising to
second or to chief engineer. Others may start on shore, either in the
workshops or as house-boys. Should they wish it, and their behaviour be
good, they go on the river steamers, commencing as stewards or deck hands
and going through every stage, as quartermasters, boatswains, and mates,
and rising to command the vessel, for, with the exception of three, all
the stern-wheelers and small steamers are in the hands of black captains,
and thoroughly capable they are. It was with such a “Cappy” I came from
Baro to Lokoja.
Burutu does not consist of only a long line of reclaimed beach and
workshops abutting. There is much more. Hundreds of labourers are
employed—400 on the commercial beach alone—and for them and others model
villages have been laid out and the forest cleared for some distance
back; for, previous to the Niger Company making Burutu its principal
centre, the trees crowded down to the water edge, as they do at the
opposite side of the river and at the ends of the nearly two miles of
beach.
These villages have districts. You must not expect, say, the native
clerk from Sierra Leone, the Gold Coast, or Lagos to have his residence
cheek-by-jowl with the Yoruba labourer or the Ijaw river boys. Why should
he not object? This is not said in an ironical tone. Do we not have a
corresponding feeling? How shocked English suburbia would be, to be sure,
if their neat promenades and well-laid-out boulevards were the resort of
men who gained a living with pick and shovel! And who can say he enjoys
huddling in train or tram against a navvy with the clay on his clothes,
fresh from the exercise of his profession? The black man, too, has steps
in his social ladder. He, too, has feelings, like all of us, whether he
be the Coast person with elementary education and sometimes deservedly
hated by the white; whether he be the Mohamedan of the hinterland;
whether he be the Pagan of the uplands and the hills.
Therefore, the houses for colour men are in separate groups, according
to the class occupying them. The labourers’ dwellings of bamboo walls
and palm leaves are being gradually replaced by buildings bricked to
about three feet at the sides and continued with corrugated iron, the
same material for roof, and with cement floors. The ten senior coloured
clerks are given two large bungalows divided into two rooms for each
married couple, a portion of the verandah walled off from the adjoining
family. The newer houses being erected will include bathrooms and
kitchens.
An isolation hospital for natives holds any case of a contagious nature.
To the hospital for Europeans a dispensary is attached, and to it come
daily between 50 and 60 of the black dwellers in Burutu, including
mammies and piccaninnies. Most of the male patients’ ailments are simple
knocks or cuts received in the course of their work. The expenditure for
all this is borne by the Niger Company, as well as the services of the
Government doctor at Forcados, who is at Burutu every day except Sunday
and attends to both Europeans and natives.
The European bungalows are made mosquito-proof. In each of the messrooms
is a large overhead fan, electrically driven, and in the principal
rooms portable table fans kept going from the same source. Even persons
who live in a cold climate will realise what a boon these fans are in
a quarter of the country where the heat is excessive and is always
associated with a damp enervating atmosphere.
I suppose it is generally known that the Right Hon. John Burns, now a
Cabinet Minister, in his younger years served a term, as an engineer,
with the Niger Company. The statement is frequently made in West Africa
that it took place at Burutu. That is incorrect. In Mr Burns’s time
Burutu was a desolate mangrove swamp; the headquarters were at Akassa, at
the mouth of the River Nun, about 50 miles further along the Coast from
Forcados. Several renderings of a snake story have appeared in English
papers. An old number of _The Engineer’s Gazette_, dated May 1893, has
furnished me with what is evidently the correct account. The appended
quotation is taken from a contribution by John Parkin, who in the text
describes himself as “Superintendent of an engineering repairing shop.” I
gather that the period of which he has written was 1880 or thereabouts.
“My next adventure in the snake line was at Akassa, while in
charge of the engineering workshop there. The shop was built
between the river and the jungle and the boiler fixed outside
the building and close to rank vegetation. One day, after
making my usual inspection of the boiler, I was startled to
see a large snake making tracks for me. For the moment I was
half-paralysed with fear, but instantly recovering myself and
deeming prudence the better part of valour, I took to my heels.
I was soon arrested in my inglorious flight by the derisive
laughter of a fellow engineer, who, with characteristic pluck
and presence of mind, picked up a shovel and chased the serpent
that was chasing me, and with one well-aimed blow cut it in
two. That daring engineer was John Burns, now of the L.C.C. and
M.P. for Battersea.
“That was not the only occasion on which Burns showed his
intrepidity. One day he and I were returning from the Brass
River, through the creeks, in a steam launch. The propeller
had only two blades.... They worked loose and fell off. The
situation was alarming, as we were near a small village
inhabited by cannibals, whilst the creek was teeming with
sharks and reptiles. Fortunately the creek was not deep, it
being low tide. The bottom was composed of soft, stinking mud
and decayed vegetable matter; so we had but faint hopes of
finding either of the blades. I proposed testing my skill as
a diver, but Burns wouldn’t hear of it. ‘No,’ said he, ‘you
are married and I am single. If either of us risks his life
I’m the man’; and, immediately stripping, he plunged in. To my
delighted surprise he found one blade, and we managed to fix
it in the boss and proceeded on our course, arriving at Akassa
in safety, though several hours late. We had been a long time
without food and were ravenously hungry. Both of us did our
duty at the table, but I was not in it with Burns, who ate
nearly the entire leg of a goat.”
The launch of my very good friend, Mr Price, of Burutu, took me from
there the five miles to the sea, and once more I steamed away from the
land of Nigeria, which, notwithstanding the privations and hardships
undergone, and the bad name the climate is given, retains for me a
continual attraction and fascination to revisit.
FOOTNOTES
[1] I have since learned that what was done was quite in accordance with
the spirit of the instructions that are laid down from the boat train.
They are, in effect:—“We do not seek to make a profit, but we do wish to
have no complaints.”
[2] Since this was written I have met the writer of the letter on the
journey down the Niger. The matter was discussed and he told me the
letter was sent to a relative without intention of its subsequent
appearance in print. Publicity having been given to the assertions, I
think it right the above comment on them should be made, notwithstanding
my cordial relations with the writer.
[3] On discovering the loss the previous evening at the rest-house I
sent a note to Mr Garrard, by his doki boy, offering £1 reward to any
individual or body of men who found the pen. Next morning Mr Garrard sent
out a party of six, notifying that 10s. would be paid to he who recovered
the article. Although the night rain had displaced portions of the road,
one of the men brought back the pen, which was handed to me on the return
journey, some months later.
[4] Fit is used in pidgin English expressions to mean either willing,
desirous or able.
INDEX
A
Abigah junior, 120-2
Abigah, King of Lokoja, 327-8
Aboh, 337, 343
Aborigines, Preface viii
Accra, 11
_African World_, 149, 211, 218
Agent (in West Africa), 6
Aiki Square, 20
Akabo, 2
Akassa, 351-3
Algeria, 102
Alkali, 68, 70, 71, 107, 114-15, 123, 239, 325-6
Amadu, 153, 158-9, 161, 166, 172
Ansim men, 100
Ashanti, military contingent for, 88
Ashanti War, 88
Awai, 134
Axim, 8
B
Badegi, railway from Baro to, 300
Badiko, 161, 163, 165, 195
Baikie, R.N., Dr, 317
Baker, Major E. M., Preface x
Bakin Kasua, 50
Bank of British West Africa, 118, 319
Bannerman, Mr D., 135
Barijuko, 133
Baro, 103, 145;
railway from, to Badegi, 300, 306-11
Barth, Dr, 316, 327
Bassa, 68
Bauchi, 40;
as the Capital, 42;
Province of, 155, 205;
expedition against Emir of, 195;
Plateau, 223, 245, 266, 269, 334;
escarpment, 224-5
Beit-el-Mal, _See_ Native Treasuries
Bell, Sir Hesketh, Preface ix, 67, 73, 294, 325
Bensusan, Mr F. L., 171-2
Benue River, 187, 224, 316, 319, 321, 335
Berbushay, 86
Beri-Beri country, 8
Beri-Beris, 63, 112, 121
Berrida, 134
Bibin, 136
Bida, 15, 40;
Emir of, 88;
railway through Province of, 300;
battle of, 318
Biffen, Mr E. H., 46
Biscay, Bay of, 3
Bland, Mr E. M., Preface ix, 52
Borgu, 63
Bornu, Resident at, 26, 63, 69
Bourke, Mr F. D., Preface x, 174
Boussa, 314
Boyce, Sir Rupert, 5
Boyle, Mr A. G., C.M.G., Preface ix
Brass River, 352
Brayscher, Mr A. W., 58, 59
Brocklebank, D.S.O., Capt. J. J., Preface x, 81-85, 128, 192
Brown, Mr Richard, 137-8
Brown, Mr Robert, 137-8
Bugi, 175
Bukuru, 196, 247-268
Burns, M.P., the Right Honourable John, 351-3
Burutu, 348-353
Bush fires, 222-3
Byfield, Mr Bertram D., Preface x, 325-7
Byrd, Mr W. P., Preface x, 60, 128
C
Cactus, 248-9, 251
Camel transport, 191-2
Camera, 60, 160
Canary Islands, 5
Cannibalism, 246
Cantonment Magistrates, 28-9, 30-2, 325-6
Cape Coast, 11
Cape Palmas, 9
Cape Verde, 6
Carriers, 139-40, 146-180, 185, 219;
pace of, 226, 237-242;
_See_ also Dan Sokoto and Gotum Karo
Caruso, 300
Catholics, 39
Central Province, 205
Ch’Kardi, Adamu, Preface x, 94, 129
Chief Justice, the acting, 24;
the, 114
Christian, Messrs G. W., 319
Clerks, Gold Coast and Sierra Leone, 38, 350-1
Climate, 5, 236
“Coast, call to the,” 1
Coast towns, Preface viii, 118, 324, 349
Coasters, 5, 6
Coleman, Mr E. N., 305, 308-9, 312
Coombe, Mr A., 313
Costello, Dr, 201, 219
Cotton growing, 305;
British Cotton Growing Association, 319
Cowries, 104, 322
Crowther, Bishop, 330
Cyclops cement-block machine, 310
D
Dago River, 35
Daka-Keri, 36
Dalla, 86
Dan Sokoto, 239-41
David, 86
Deleme River, 173, 195
Donisthorpe, Mr Loder, 80
Donkey transport, 142-3, 192-3
Driver, Mr T. H., Preface x, 232-4
Dyer, Lieutenant, 91
Duchi-n-Wai, 134, 135
E
Eaglesome, Mr John, 25, 49, 133
East Africa, 2
Egerton, Sir Walter, Preface ix
Egypt, 2
Emirs, 26, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 70, 296, 299-301
Emlyn, Dr A., 199-200
Emperor William I. of Germany, 327
_Engineer’s Gazette, The_, 352
English Channel, 2, 3
Euston, 131
Evans, Mr E., 258
Exclusive Prospecting Licence, the first, 195
F
Fairley, Messrs J. D., 319
Farms, Hausa, 55;
Pagan, 253-4
Fedderi, 178-80
Forcados, 103, 118, 348
Fox, the late Rev. C., 56
Francis, Mr A. C., Preface x, 298
Fremantle, Captain, 298
French Company, the, 73, 74, 75, 76, 292
Frontier, of Southern and Northern Nigeria, 15
Fulani, Preface viii, 67, 100, 112, 116, 121, 154, 207, 263-6, 318
G
Gall, Mr F. Beckles, Preface x, 205-8, 213
Gambia River, 7
Gana-Gana, 344
Garrard, Mr Percy, 143-4, 147-9, 242
Gascoyne, Lieutenant, 91
Geiser and Company, 292
Gidan Gombo, 148, 149, 150-2, 257
Girouard, D.S.O., Sir Percy, 49, 300, 303, 306
Glasgow, 348
Godwin, Captain, F. A. E., 36
Gold Coast Colony, kola nuts from, 302
Gold discoveries, the, 293-4
Goldie, Sir George Taubman, Preface viii, 63, 66, 281, 318
Goldsmith, C.M.G., Mr H. S., 25
Goron Dutsi, 86
Gotum Karo, 179-80
Government House, 27
Governor, authority of, 19, 245
Graham, Mr F. G., 166
Grand Bassa, 9
Grant-in-aid, 23, 205
Gurum River, 175-7, 231, 233
Gussum, 153, 154
H
Hanington, Dr, 3, 4
Hanza, 153-4, 156-168, 172, 174, 178
Harmattan, 14, 223
Harrison, Mr W., 3, 4
Hausa, Preface viii, 36;
traders on the railway, 49, 63, 64, 67, 100, 112, 116, 121, 137,
154, 162, 207, 226-8, 237, 243-4, 247-8;
house, 251, 254, 262-6, 280-1, 290, 318
Herodotus, 314
Hibbert, Mr W. H., Preface x, 312, 321
Hill Division, 207
Holt, Messrs John, 73, 292, 319, 337
Horses, 108, 109, 141-2, 164, 216-18, 249, 253, 255-7
Hos, 225, 228
Hospital Sisters, 5
Hospitals, Jos, 200;
Baro, 311;
Lokoja, 328-9
House of Commons Resolution, 317
House of Lords, the, 308
Huddart, Mr L. H. L., 293-4
I
Ibadan, 15, 309
Iddo Wharf, 11-13
Ijaw, 350
Imperial Yeomanry, 8th, 81
Inspector of Mines, Government, 21
J
James, Mr F. Seton, C.M.G., Preface ix
Jebba, 16, 40;
as the Capital, 41, 88, 319
Jemma, 223-4
Johnson, Captain, A. E., D.S.O., 35, 36
Johnson, Dr, 201, 298
Jos, 174, 181-93, 196, 221, 230
Judd, Colonel, 22
Juga, 154, 167, 169
K
Kabba, expedition against, 281, 318;
Province of, 319;
City of, 325
Kadaura, 169
Kaduna Bridge, 52
Kaduna River, 41;
tributaries of, 50
Kano, 57-129
Kantagora, 40;
Emir of, 88
Karre, 134
Karshi, 225, 228
Katsina, 70;
Emir of, 89, 103, 107
Keffi, Magasi of, 89
Kelly, Captain G. C., Preface ix, 24, 26
Kendall, Mr, 191
King, the Great White, 65
King’s Dragoon Guards, 81
Kogin Serekin Pawa, 50
Kogini Rahama, 149
Kolo, 215-16, 238-9
Kooty-Wenji, 17
Krumen, 7-8, 11
Kudara, 134, 136, 137
Kugo River, 50
Kukuruku, 36
L
Lafee Sala, 163
Lagos, 11, 12;
as the capital, 42;
Colony of, 63, 73, 75, 103, 118
Lagos Stores, Ltd., 73, 75, 76, 292
Laird, McGregor, 315-17
Lake Chad, 54, 316
Lander, the brothers, 314-16
Langslow-Cock, Mr A. E., 204-5
Laundryman, 9
Laws, Mr H. W., 195-6
“Lazy negroes,” 55
Lefanu, Sergeant, 91
Leighton, Mr, 175
Lenthall, Mr Robert, Preface x
Liberia, 9
Liverpool, 2, 11, 103, 315
Lokoja, as the capital, 41, 311, 313-33;
distance from Forcados, 335
Loko-Keffi route, 187-8, 224
London and Kano Trading Company, 80-85, 292
Lugard, Lady, Preface viii
Lugard, Sir F., Preface viii, 25, 36, 30, 40, 49, 64, 65, 66, 88, 89,
90, 92, 127, 133, 142, 194-5
M
Macdonald, Mr George, 195-6
Macintyre, Archdeacon, J. L., 330-2
Maclaverty, Captain C. F. S., Preface ix, 24, 151, 282
Maclean, Mr C., Preface ix
Magama, 165
Mail services, 37
Malarial fever, 5, 329
Mal-de-mer, 3
Mallam, 280-1;
on railway, 301-2, 318
Mama, 238-9
Manchester, 103
Manson, Sir Patrick, 5
Marsh, Mr W. J., 59, 60
McDowell, Mr J. B., Preface x
McQueen, James, 315
Medical staff, 5
Melba, Madame, 300
Migeod, Mr C. L., 207
Military, 1st Northern Nigeria Regiment, 24;
West African Frontier Force, 36;
artillery, 36;
operations, 65;
Northern Nigeria Regiment, 81;
contingent for Ashanti, 88, 278-90;
marriage in the service, 281;
the guns, 282-4;
sports, 284-5;
signalling, 285-7;
the bands, 287-8;
classification of white civilians, 289-9;
expedition against Kabba, 318;
Battle of Bida, 318
Minerals royalty, 198
Minna, 16;
station, 44-5-6, 302;
distance from Zaria, 302
Missionaries, 45, 125-9, 258-9, 316, 324, 329-332
Mockler-Ferryman, Colonel, Preface viii
Mohamedan and Moslem, 38, 39, 44;
clothing, 64, 66, 68, 102, 114, 127, 243, 249, 280-1, 318, 324,
338, 350
Molyneux, Mr S. A., 179-80
Money, 117-8, 185, 322
Monrovia, 9
Morel, Mr E. D., Preface viii
Morland, Colonel, 90-1
Morocco, 101, 102, 103
Mosques, 120
Motor lorry transport, 191-2
_Mungo Park_, the, 336-7, 339-40
Musical instruments, Pagan, 249, 250
N
Naraguta, 169, 173, 195-6;
extended, 196, 197, 205, 214
Nasaru, 338-9, 346
Nassarawa, 40;
Province of, 223, 225
Navy, the Royal, 315
Newport, Mr A., 45
N’Gell, 196
Nicolaus, Mr G., 195
Niger Company, 33;
constabulary, 36, 61, 63, 66, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 139-145;
finance department, 184-6;
transport department, 186-193;
mining department, 194-8, 293, 307, 310, 318-19, 321, 336-7, 348-51
Niger River, 16;
ferry, 16;
bridge, 17, 103, 145;
at Baro, 315;
exploration of and early trading on, 314-17, 319, 321;
navigating the, 334-37
“Niggers,” 13
Nun River, 351
Nupés, 63, 100, 112, 312, 338
Nursing, feminine, 200-1, 328
O
Offa, 15
Officials, English, number of, 67
Oil Rivers, 11
Oje, divines water, 46, 59, 170, 182, 211-15, 238, 309-10
Oldfield, Mr J., 46
Ollivant and Company, 292
Olokemeji, 15
Onitsha, 337, 340
Orr, Captain, Preface viii
Oshogbo, 15
Overweg, Dr, 316
Oxen transport, 142, 191-2
P
Paddington, 131
Pagans, Preface vii, 36, 38, 63, 64, 69, 154, 177-8, 207, 224, 226-8,
243-77;
musical instruments, 250;
houses, 251-3;
fuel, 252;
farms, 253-4;
cattle and herds, 255;
public celebrations, 255;
races, 256;
as horsemasters, 256-7;
hunting, 257;
sign language, 257-8;
administering justice, 260-6;
authority of Kings and Chiefs, 260, 270-1;
trial by ordeal, 262;
taxation, 266-8;
marriage customs, 271-3;
death customs, 273-5;
cannibalism, 275-7;
military, 280, 350
Pagenstecher and Company, 292, 319
Park, Mungo, 314
Parkin, Mr John, 352
Paterson and Zochonis, 292
_Pleiad_, the, 316
Police, Northern Nigeria, 35-6;
Emir’s, 36, 245
Polygamy, 120
Pooley, Captain, 10, 11
Population, number of, 67;
decrease of, 88
Porch, Mr M. P., 298
Porter, Major, 91
Postmaster-General, the, 24, 37
Price, Mr A. E., Preface x, 347, 353
Probis, Mr, 195
Public Works Department, 20
R
Radcliff, Captain J., 29
Rahama, 134, 138-145, 147, 231
Railway, Anchou, 54;
Baro-Kano, Preface vii, 48, 58-9, 145, 299-305;
Bauchi Light, Preface vii, 17, 131-8, 145, 154;
Boat train, 12, 14, 131;
Deputy Director of, 24-5;
Dumbi, 54;
extension from Jebba to Kano, 20-1;
fares, 18;
ferry, 16;
gauges, 132;
Hausa traders on the, 49;
Kaduna station, 50-1;
Kaduna bridge, 52;
Kano, approach to, 56;
Kano station, 58;
Kano and the desert route for Arab merchants, 102;
Lagos Government, the, Preface vii, 15;
locomotive and elephants, 302;
locomotive and horse, 302;
meals on the, 18;
Nigerian, Preface vii;
proportion of travellers per class, 49;
Rahama, trains from, 231;
receipts, 48-9;
Rigachikun, 54;
road transport contrasted with the, 235;
rolling-stock, demand for, 48;
Shallawa River, 55;
terminus, 11, 12, 13;
3rd class coaches, 49;
track repair, 51;
water for engines, 51;
Zaria junction, 291;
Zaria Plateau, 50;
Zungeru, 17;
Zungeru station, 43;
Zungeru to Kano train, 44
Rats, as food, 309-10
_Rattler_, the, 312-13
Reichard, Herr, 314-15
Residents, discretion to, 26, 67, 205-8, 245-6, 247-8, 260-1, 263,
266-8, 297
Rest-houses, 22, 57, 109, 150-1, 164, 297-8
Rhodesia, 236
Richards, Mr Cyril, 14
Richardson, Mr, 316
Rigachikun, 187
Ross, Major Sir Ronald, 5
Raffan Governor, 234
“Rule of the road” at sea, 10
S
Sahara Desert, 7, 102
Salah, the, 216, 219-220
Scarbrough, Lord, 197
Schools, Government and Missionary, 39
Secondee, 11
Selander, Mr J. E., 107
Shallawa River, 90
Sierra Leone, 7, 8, 9, 118
Sign language, 257-8
Signalled message, 290
Simmonds, Mr E. B., 186
Slave-raiding, 50, 243, 262-4
Slaves, domestic, 122
Soba, 134, 135
Sokoto, 15;
resident at, 26;
mails to, 37, 40, 67, 68, 91, 103
Soper, Captain, F. P., 224
South African War, 81
Speed, Mr, 235-7
Stephenson, Captain, W. H., 336, 339, 343, 347
Stobart, Mr S. E. M., Preface x, 261-7
Sudan United Mission, 258-9
Suly, Preface x, 129
Sussex scenery, 223
Swainson, Mr J., 137-8
Syrian trader, a, 73, 75, 76, 78
T
Taxation, native, 67, 207, 245, 266-8, 295-7
Temperature, 7, 14, 159-60, 225-6, 252-3
Temple, Mr Charles L., C.M.G., Preface ix, 25, 27, 300
Territory, extent of, 63, 67, 278
Tetrazzini, Madame, 300
Tilde Fulani, 171, 180, 195
Tin areas of Nigeria, 73, 75, 76, 292, 319
Tin fields, travellers for, 17;
inception of, 194-8;
mining regulations, 202-5;
Government Inspector of Mines, 204-5;
travellers to, 307
Toner, Mr James, 4
Toro, 169, 170
Trading firms, European, 6, 73
Transvaal scenery, 221
Treasuries, native, 34, 68, 69, 70, 115, 295-6
Tremearne, Major, Preface viii
Trial by ordeal, 262
Trigge, Mr Joseph E., Preface x
Tripoli, 101, 102, 103, 316
Tunis, 101
Turegs, 100
V
Vultures, 117
W
Walkden and Company, John, 292
Wallace, Sir William, 195-6
Waller, Mr F. W., Preface ix
Wassaku Concessions, 134
Waterloo, 131
Watson, Dr, 199-200
Watts, Mr Walter, Preface x, 194-5
Weinthal, Mr Leo, Preface ix
West African Frontier Force, 36
White, Mr, 80
Wilks, Mr, 61
Women traders, 119
Woolloy, Mr H. M., 37
Worroko, 134
Y
Yola, 316
Yorubas, 30, 63, 309, 350
Z
Zaria, 15, 17, 40, 89, 90;
station, 130-1, 182, 291-8;
native taxation, 295-7;
Emir of, 296;
railway through Province of, 300;
kola nuts for, 303
Zungeru, 19-20;
character of, 21;
living accommodation in, 21-2;
houses and food, 22-3;
rest-houses at, 22;
future of, as Capital, 23, 39;
hours of work at, 26;
Secretariat, 26;
Government House, 27;
Governor’s motor-car, 27-8;
Cantonment Magistrate, 29-32;
Chief of, 31-2;
Niger Company’s store, 33;
native town, 34;
prison, 35-6;
mail services, 37;
sports, 38;
native and other coloured inhabitants, 38;
strategic position of, 40-1, 73
THE NORTHUMBERLAND PRESS, THORNTON STREET, NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE.