Departure for Timbuctoo on the 13th of March — Description of the
banks of the river — Slaves released from their chains — Populous
villages — Vessels of from sixty to eighty tons burthen — Branch
of the river forming a large island — Mode of building canoes —
Villages of Banan — Character of the Mandingoes — Description of
Lake Debo — Islands called St. Charles, Henry, and Maria-Theresa.
About half past nine o’clock we left the port. We did not waste
much time in adieus; my friends saw me on board, wished me a safe
voyage, and departed exclaiming: _Salam alécoom, Abdallah_. The
sherif, with whom the gift of my umbrella rendered me such a
favourite, directed me to his correspondent at Timbuctoo, to whom
he particularly recommended me in a letter, which he sent by the
superintendent of the cargo. I had reason to be grateful for his
kind foresight, to which I was indebted for the friendly reception
I experienced on my arrival in the capital of the Western Soudan.
Though the heat was beginning to be exceedingly oppressive, I
remained on deck, for the canoe was very full. The river makes
several windings; its course is rapid; and as it is extremely
shallow, we were obliged several times to unload the vessel in order
to pass over the sandbanks. The negroes in the neighbourhood helped
to load and unload the canoe, and to push it forward; all this,
of course, occasioned considerable delay.
About two o’clock we reached the majestic Dhioliba, which flows
slowly from W. N. W. At this part it is very deep, and about three
times the width of the Seine at the Pont-Neuf. It takes a turn of
about two miles to the south; its banks are low and very barren. The
distance from Jenné to this river is, I should imagine, about ten
miles. After flowing two miles to the southward, it turns to the
N. N. E. About four o’clock we arrived at Cougalia, where I had
previously crossed the river. Aided by the current I suppose we
made about two miles an hour.
A little before sun-set we passed Kera, a pretty little village
on the right bank of the river, containing about three hundred
inhabitants. It is nearly seven miles from Cougalia. Here the river
turns to the N. E. A little to the left there is a small island
submerged during the inundation The river is much wider here than
at Cougalia, and it is quite as deep. On the plain I observed some
slaves tilling the ground; they had pickaxes like those of the
Bambaras. We continued our course till near midnight. As I had no
compass I observed the direction of our course during the night by
the polar star. In the evening we stood to the N. E., still going
at the rate of about two miles an hour.
When we lay to, the negroes who had the management of the canoe
sought to pick a quarrel with me: they would not allow me to sleep
on board. They told me that I had given them nothing, and that
if I did not pay them they would put me on shore. I saw very well
that their only object was to intimidate me and thereby to extort
something from me. I disregarded their threats, and prepared to
sleep on board in spite of them, for the cold night air and the
damp were very unpleasant. I arranged my resting place as well as
I could on a heap of baggage, where I was almost folded double and
unable to move. I had not a wink of sleep during the whole night,
and the negroes annoyed me in every possible way to induce me to
leave the canoe. They even began to address insulting language to
me, and threatened to put me on shore next day if I did not satisfy
their demands. I suffered much from this annoyance; but the negroes
gained nothing by their insolence. When the common people of these
countries meet with a stranger who does not speak their language,
they think they may insult him with impunity; but it is sufficient to
shew firmness to make them more tractable. They gave me for supper
a little rice boiled in water, which was the food of the slaves. I
had not eaten any thing all day, for there was no possibility of
cooking on account of the crowded state of the canoe.
At four in the morning of the 24th of March we stood to the N. E. The
sailors pushed forward the canoe with a long pole: they rowed it
in deep water, and sometimes towed it along shore.
At this part, the river is about half a mile broad and very deep. Its
banks, though low, are adorned with a species of mimosa, which grows
only to the height of a small shrub. About seven in the morning we
stopped before the village of Soufara, situated on the right bank,
on a height which preserves it from the inundation. Beside this
village is little stream, which runs in an eastward direction. We
went ashore to purchase some maumies and pistachio-nuts for
breakfast. In this place there is no regular market; but people
go through the streets selling pistachios, and other little
productions of the country. The village probably contains about
two hundred and fifty inhabitants. They live in wretched huts,
built of earth like those of the Bambaras, which do not approach
the perfection of the habitations of Jenné. The people catch a
great quantity of fish. They generally use nets made of cotton, but
sometimes fish with the line. When I returned on board the canoe,
the negro who was the master of the slaves and superintendent of
the cargo gave me a piece of cake for my breakfast. Fortunately I
had provided myself with some on shore, otherwise I should have made
a sorry repast. The negroes again importuned me for cowries; but I
persisted in my resolution to give them nothing. At half past seven
we continued our course. The river now took a northerly direction. It
continued wide, and its depth was about ten or twelve feet. This I
ascertained by observing the long pole with which the sailors pushed
the canoe. It was nearly eleven o’clock when we passed Cabia. In
front of this village there are three little islands; here the
river takes a turn to the N. E. and becomes narrower. About two
o’clock I observed its direction was north, and at half past
three, north-east. Its width and depth continued much the same;
its banks were barren and low. On both sides I observed immense
plains, the uniformity of which was broken only by some ronniers
which rise majestically to the height of about eighty feet from
the ground and bound the horizon. About five in the afternoon we
perceived the village of Taco, which is situated on the left bank.
At sun-set I discerned, in the direction of the east, two little
hills about six miles from the bank of the river, which in this
part runs to the north. About seven in the evening we stopped
before the village of Coona, which is inhabited by Foulahs, who
live in straw huts. In the port there were some canoes, all going
to Timbuctoo. Here we could plainly perceive the two hills I have
just mentioned, and a little to the north-east were three others
of similar height. We passed the night in this village, which,
like Taco, is situated on the left bank.
On the 25th of March I was informed that the great canoe which
was to convey us to Timbuctoo was in the port and ready for our
reception. It was covered with mats, and laden with rice, millet,
cotton, honey, vegetable butter, and other productions of the
country. The canoe appeared to me very fragile; like the smaller ones
its planks were joined with cords; its burthen was about sixty tons.
We were occupied all day in getting the merchandise from the small
canoe, and putting it on board the large one. There was on the shore
a great concourse of people, all engaged in some kind of labour;
they had pitched tents to shelter themselves from the heat, which
was excessive. The negroes offered us their merchandise for sale. On
seeing them I almost imagined myself in a market on the banks of
the Senegal. The village is situated on a little eminence, and is
scantily shaded by ronniers and mimosas. The heat was suffocating. I
went to visit the market, which was very badly provided; for it
was then the time of the Ramadan: there was a little milk, some
pistachios, dry and fresh fish, maumies, and other light articles of
food. The people looked at me with indifference. The young girls,
who offered their merchandise for sale, had a very pleasing mode
of address; but I bought nothing, on account of the presence of
the Foulahs, who are even more fanatical than the Moors, and who,
if they had seen me eat, would have set me down for an infidel. My
hosts at Jenné had however made me promise that I would not fast on
my passage, observing that I could make up by fasting at Timbuctoo
for the number of days during which I might neglect the practice of
that religious duty. I sat down beneath a tree on the bank of the
river, and amused myself for a short time by observing a group of
young negroes of both sexes, who were bathing, dancing and gamboling
about in the water.
A little to the north of the village the river is intersected by
a sand-bank. This bank was covered by a multitude of water-fowl of
various kinds, whose white plumage looked like a sheet of snow in
the midst of the river. The channel for the passage of canoes is
near the right bank. The surrounding country is very barren: not a
single shrub is to be seen. The soil consists of immense marshes,
which are inundated at the swell of the waters. The shore on either
side is so extremely low that the river seems on the point of
overflowing its banks. In the village I met with a Moorish trader,
who was returning from Timbuctoo in a common canoe, laden with
salt. He told me that he had been a month on his way from Cabra
to Coona. I invited him to come on board our vessel and take a
little refreshment of dokhnou and water. Dokhnou, as I have before
observed, consists of a mixture of the flour of millet and honey,
which is afterwards mixed with water for drink. He requested me to
wait until sun-set on account of the Foulahs, who, if they saw us
drink, would have a bad opinion of us. He left me to take a turn
in the village, but I did not see him again.
In the port, there were many fishermen’s canoes. When the fishermen
catch their fish, either with the net or the line, they dry it in
the sun and sell it to the vessels which are continually stopping
in their port: they also carry it to Jenné for sale. At two
o’clock in the afternoon, I was informed that dinner was ready,
and was asked whether I would partake of it; for the slaves were
not required to fast, and I was ranked among them. That I might not
be observed by any one, I went on board the canoe to take my dinner
at my ease. It consisted of a little boiled millet-flour, without
any seasoning. After this frugal repast, the slaves were freed from
their chains, and I was gratified in witnessing the pleasure which
these poor creatures experienced during their temporary release from
bondage. They appeared perfectly happy. They tried to walk, but it
was with difficulty that they could move a few steps, for the chains
which they had worn since they left Jenné had wounded their feet.
Having nothing more to detain us in the village, we left it in the
afternoon during a calm, taking a northern direction. The large
canoe did not get on so well as the small one which we had left
behind us, consequently we scarcely made two miles an hour.
About five o’clock we passed Taguetia, situated on the
left bank. In front of this village a marigot, or branch, about
twenty-five or thirty fathoms wide, runs off to the east. The village
of Sangouno is on one of the banks of this branch. At its mouth are
two little islands, about a quarter of a mile in circumference,
on which are some fishermen’s huts. The river still continues
of the same width, running to the north. It is very deep, and its
banks are low and barren.
At ten at night we stopped at Sankhaguibila. At this place the river
takes a turn to the east, and then to the north. The inhabitants
hold a little market, to which they bring milk and dried fish, which
the negroes of the canoes purchase, and pay for in cowries, the only
money current on the banks of the river as far as Timbuctoo. People
came from all sides with earthen pots, calabashes, mats, and various
other kinds of merchandise. This village probably contains about
four hundred inhabitants, consisting of Foulahs, Mandingoes, and
Bambaras from Jenné.
At three o’clock on the morning of the 26th, we quitted the
village of Sankhaguibila, the huts of which are all of straw, and
badly constructed. We advanced slowly to the west. At sun-rise we
found the river take a turn to the north. Its banks are adorned
with a few dwarf shrubs.
At four in the afternoon we passed Diébé, situated on the right and
before which there is a sand-bank. In general, all these villages
resemble each other. The population varies but little. We stopped
here nearly two hours to escape the north wind, which was blowing
furiously, and which, in all probability, would have destroyed our
frail bark. When it ceased we continued our course, and at nine
o’clock we lay to at Isaca, where we passed that night and the
following day. During the night the wind changed to the north-east,
and there was a good breeze stirring. The banks of the river are so
low that the least wind prevents the canoes making way; for when the
water is ever so little agitated the waves dash over their sides
and sink them; an accident of frequent occurrence. The population
of Isaca may amount to seven or eight hundred, all Foulahs. Their
houses, which are built of bricks baked in the sun, resemble those
of the Bambaras.
The inhabitants brought us fresh fish, sour milk, and butter,
which we purchased. The butter was rolled up into little balls of
the size of crab-apples, for which we paid six cowries each. In
this village I saw a great quantity of dried fish, an article in
which the inhabitants traffic very considerably. They carry it to
Jenné and other neighbouring markets. The great arm of the river
which, as the negroes informed me, branches off from Sego, and
forms an immense island, rejoins the river a quarter of a mile from
Isaca. This arm, which comes from the west, is very broad, and seems
to be navigable for large boats. It has not a rapid current; indeed,
the water appears to be almost stagnant. The village is situated on
the right bank of the river, and is inhabited by Foulahs, similar to
those of Fouta-Dhialon. They are the subjects of Sego-Ahmadou, the
capital of which al-Lamdou Lillahi, is a day’s journey eastward
from Isaca. They rear flocks, which are their principal wealth,
and cultivate rice in the plains, inundated by the overflow of the
waters. They fish with nets made of cotton cord.
The women manufacture a beautiful kind of pottery, which they sell
at Jenné, and to the canoes going to Timbuctoo. The village is
situated on a little eminence; it is a great market for provisions.
Before I proceed further I will give a description of the canoes
which are employed in the passage from Jenné to Timbuctoo, and
which keep up a continually active trade along the whole extent of
the river. Little flotillas of sixty or eighty boats are frequently
seen all richly laden with various kinds of produce.
A vessel of sixty, or eighty tons burthen, is about ninety or one
hundred feet long, twelve or fourteen broad at midships, and draws
six or seven feet depth of water. These canoes, whether large or
small, are generally fragile, and it is astonishing how they bear
the heavy cargoes with which they are laden, and which consist
of rice, millet, butter, honey, onions, pistachios, colat-nuts,
stuffs, and various kinds of preserved articles. In addition to
their cargo they frequently have on board forty or fifty slaves,
half of whom remain on deck.
The crew consists of sixteen or eighteen sailors, two steersmen, and
a superior, who acts as captain. The manner in which these vessels
are built shews their want of solidity. Large planks, five feet long
by eight inches broad, and about one inch thick,[1] are adjusted and
fixed together by ropes made from the hemp of the country and the
leaves of the ronnier. These ropes possess the property of lasting a
long time in water, an advantage of great importance in this country,
where the inhabitants do not avail themselves of the use of iron.
The workmen first of all join the planks together; but they do
not unite closely, and large interstices are left in this first
joining. The seams are then caulked over with bruised straw, reduced
to a sort of oakum, and mixed with a soft kind of clay, found in the
morasses and on the banks of the river. The interstices thus filled
up, the seams are closely covered with fresh straw, and the whole
is strongly fastened by a second joining; this renders the canoe
sufficiently solid for the purpose of navigating the river At the
bottom, wooden bars are laid at certain distances to consolidate the
whole mass; and similar bars are placed higher up, for supporting the
deck. The hull being finished, it is covered over with small pieces
of flexible wood, bent in a convex form, across which, other pieces
of smaller size are fixed. This forms the deck, which is raised
three feet and a half above the sides, and covered over with mats,
made in the country from the leaves of the ronnier. The lightest
merchandise is placed on the deck, or orlop, and is firmly lashed
to the gunwales of the vessel, forming a sort of barrier, not very
high, but sufficiently so to prevent the slaves, who sleep on deck,
from rolling into the water. The vessel is loaded to the height of
two feet and a half or three feet above the deck, even on the prow.
As they are unacquainted with the use of pumps, they leave in the
middle of the canoe an open space, where two men are constantly
stationed, and whose business it is to bale out the water which makes
its way through the seams of the vessel. In spite of the quickness
with which they work, the water on board is never less than half a
foot deep. These men keep watch as in our European ships, and they
are relieved every six hours. They use large calabashes to bale the
vessel. I observed that this part of the canoe is always covered with
moss of a fine green colour. This is also the place where the women
kindle fires to cook the victuals of the crew; for which purpose
they provide themselves with portable earthenware stoves. These
stoves are in the form of chaffing-dishes, round and open, and are
composed of glazed earthenware. They are manufactured at Jenné, or
in its environs, and are nearly four feet in circumference. They are
furnished with three little supports, forming a tripod, on which the
pot, used for boiling the rice, rests. These portable stoves obviate
all danger that might be apprehended from the use of fire on board
the vessels. Before the cargo is put on board, the hold is lined with
thick pieces of wood, to prevent the goods being damaged by damp.
These vessels being unprovided with sails, cannot make way except in
very calm weather; they are besides so frail, that the slightest wind
agitating the river (the banks of which are very low) produces waves,
which, by dashing against the sides of the canoes, would either
damage or swamp them. This danger often causes delay, and renders
the navigation tedious and perilous. When the banks are entirely free
from bushes, the sailors row or tow the vessel along, and when they
can reach the bottom of the river with poles, they push it. In this
manner the greater part of the passage is effected, and it was by
means of these poles, which are about twelve or fifteen feet long,
that I was enabled to judge of the depth of the river. It is very
difficult to find wood of such a length in this country, and it is
necessary to fix two pieces together lengthwise to form the poles.
It sometimes happens that the banks are covered with bushes, and
that the river is so deep that these poles cannot reach the bottom;
in such cases the sailors move the vessel forward by paddles three
feet long; and a place for the rowers is left open, quite at the
fore part of the vessel, occupying only twelve or fourteen feet.
They sometimes stand up close against the side of the vessel, and
at other times sit upon the merchandise, having scarcely room to
turn themselves round in consequence of the crowded state of the
canoe. These men are naked; they row very fast, and keep time.
The master stands at the stern and steers the vessel, not without
difficulty, by a long pole instead of a rudder. He experiences a
good deal of trouble in managing the unwieldy machine, so that it
is often found necessary for two others to assist him. A rudder
like that attached to the boats which descend the Seine, would
be extremely serviceable, but at present the people are ignorant
of the use of such a thing. Each of these vessels has a captain,
who maintains great authority over his crew, and I never witnessed
any abuse of this authority, as is sometimes the case with us,
especially in the merchant service. All the negro sailors who
navigate the river are slaves; there are also some captains of this
class, whose employers give them half of what they earn. Free men
think themselves degraded by accepting such employment.
On the 28th, at four o’clock in the morning, the wind fell and we
continued our course towards the north. The breadth of the river
did not vary, and its banks continued low and naked. About seven
o’clock in the morning the N. E. wind blew stronger than on
the preceding day, and we were obliged to anchor before a large
plain of white quicksand, which, when inundated by the rising of
the waters, forms a great bank; the channel is on the left side
of the river. The wind, blowing up the sand in great quantities,
added to the inconvenience we were suffering from the heat.
To lighten the canoe all the slaves were set on shore, and the
rice-grinders were sent to continue their work on the plain. At
sunset the wind fell a little, and the oars might have been used
during the whole of the night, but the negroes, to whom time is of
no value, and who are never in a hurry to reach their destination,
thought proper to wait till morning.
The slaves, male and female, all Bambaras, began to leap, dance,
and amuse themselves in various ways. Their gaiety, however, proved
the cause of some trouble to us, for the Foulahs, observing them,
came on board at night-fall in a party of about thirty, armed
with bows and pikes. They severely censured the impropriety of
allowing the slaves to dance during the Ramadan, observing that
it was like making a scoff of religion, and that, as a punishment
for such misconduct, a fine of five thousand cowries (a sum equal
to twenty-five francs) must be paid. The master, to whose charge
the slaves had been committed, earnestly defended the cause of
his employer. A spirited altercation arose between the parties,
who were seated in a circle upon the sand. The Foulahs for some
time shewed no disposition to forego their demands, but at length
they were taught reason, and the dispute ended at the expense
of the poor slaves, who, as a punishment for dancing during this
sacred season, were each condemned to receive five lashes on the
back. The sentence, however, was not executed with much severity,
and it did not restrain the slaves from resuming their dance as
soon as the fanatical Foulahs departed.
From motives of prudence, I had for some time kept myself apart
from this scene, but I felt curious to know, before the departure
of these rigid defenders of Islamism, what was the subject of
dispute. I therefore approached the spot where they were and sat
down on the sand beside them. They were astonished at seeing me,
for I had hitherto escaped their observation, owing to the interest
they took in discussing the subject of the five thousand cowries,
which they conceived they had a right to exact. They told the master
that I must certainly be the chief of the canoe and the proprietor
of the cargo; that I must doubtless have money; and that I must
make them a handsome present.
The master answered them that I was a poor Arab, whom the
christians had carried off from his country when a boy, and that
I was proceeding to Mecca, to seek my relatives. This explanation
seemed to satisfy them, for they asked no more questions about me.
The proprietor of the canoe had put a Mandingo negro on board, to
take care of the cargo. This person was also directed to attend to
me; a duty which he performed very negligently, for, after leaving
Jenné, he gave me nothing but rice boiled in water, the food of
the slaves. He was more strict than the Moors, and fasted on the
voyage, not partaking of any thing until a repast was served to
us at half past six in the evening. This was the best meal I had
throughout the day, for he added a little dry fish and vegetable
butter to the dish. However, he made me eat at other times with
the slaves. I complained of this treatment, but the only reply
given to my repeated remonstrances was, that he did not choose to
have the trouble of lighting a fire for only one person, and that I
must be content with what he gave me. Not being able to do better,
I patiently bore my misfortune, and considered myself lucky when
I procured a little sour milk to relish my dinner.
On the 29th of March, about three o’clock in the morning, we
again put off. During the night time, the polar star served me
for a compass, and the position of the stars enabled me to guess
the hour. About nine o’clock a fresh breeze having sprung up,
we were obliged to wait till midday, when we began to move on. At
two o’clock we again stopped. The excessive heat brought upon me
an attack of fever, which, fortunately, was not followed by any bad
consequences. At five o’clock in the evening, the wind dropped,
and we were enabled to continue our voyage. At sun-set, we passed a
village on the left bank, close to which an arm of the river branches
off to the west. At eight in the evening, we found ourselves before
Wanza, having constantly advanced in a northern direction. We lay
to about one o’clock in the morning, at a point where there was no
village. Here the river might be three quarters of a mile broad, and
from eight to nine feet deep; the banks were uniformly low and bare.
On the 30th of March, at six in the morning, we put off, still in
the same direction. About nine o’clock, a violent north-east wind
arose, and obliged us to halt before the village of Sansan. Here
the river is of considerable breadth, but the banks being ornamented
with mimosas, presented a pleasing prospect after the long absence
of all vegetation. About five in the evening, the wind falling a
little, we advanced to the north-east. The country on either side of
the river was covered with numerous herds of oxen, whose lowing was
heard at a great distance; they belonged to the Foulahs, residing in
a village at some distance from the shore, and whose only property
is their cattle. At six in the evening, we passed over a sand-bank,
extending across the river, which is here a full mile in breadth.
The canoe ran aground several times, and the men were obliged to
jump into the water in order to get it afloat, for which about four
feet and a half water was requisite. By great efforts we gained
the channel, which runs near the right bank. Here I saw thousands
of trumpet-birds, which came down in flocks upon the sand banks,
and by their shrill cries seemed to sound a charge upon the fish,
destined by nature for their prey. There were also great numbers of
ducks, water-fowl, puffets, pelicans, and egrets, and multitudes of
the other varieties of water birds, which inhabit these marshes,
and brood undisturbed by the people of the surrounding countries.
Powder is a very scarce article here, and lead is unknown; pikes,
therefore, form the only arms of the inhabitants.
We continued our course till midnight; when, our wearied rowers
requiring rest, we moored the vessel to two stakes fixed in the
shore, and went to sleep.
On the thirty-first of March, at six in the morning, we started in a
northern direction. At seven we passed the village of Corocoïla,
situated on the right bank. This place contained from five to
six hundred inhabitants, chiefly Foulahs, and also some who came
originally from Jenné. In all the villages on the banks of the
river the same language is spoken as at Timbuctoo and Jenné; it is
called the _Kissour_. The Foulah language also is spoken in those
places. The banks of the river were still covered with numerous
herds of oxen.
At ten o’clock, we lay to about two miles to the north of
Cobi. Between this small village and Corocoïla is a pretty little
island, about two miles in circumference, covered with the finest
vegetation; I was astonished to find it uninhabited. In the evening
we made three miles towards the north, for the purpose of reaching
Cona, the first village in the country of Banan, which the negroes
call _Banan-dougou (land of Banan)_. Cona contains about eight
hundred inhabitants, all negroes. There are in the country some
Mandingoes and Foulahs, who are engaged in trade. It is situated
on the right bank of the river, and its environs are marshy.
The people on board our vessel purchased tamarinds, earthen pots,
and untanned ox-hides used for packing. The inhabitants brought us
milk, giraumons, and other articles.
In this place I met two Moors from Adrar, owners of a very large
canoe of eighty tons burden at least. They were going to Timbuctoo
to dispose of the merchandise they had bought at Jenné. A small
vessel of seven or eight tons, was employed to carry themselves
and provisions for their use and it followed the large canoe at
various distances; for the latter, encumbered with merchandise,
advanced but slowly.
After introducing themselves, they invited me to partake of their
boiled rice and some milk, while supper was preparing. About seven
in the evening they proceeded on their passage, but we stayed until
the next day. Several of our men went to the village to make small
purchases for a venture. Banan is independent of Ségo-Ahmadou:
it is situated upon the right bank of the river, and extends
very far to the east. The inhabitants are all Mahometans, and
the slaves, who are very numerous, are employed in tilling the
ground. The people build canoes, and make voyages to Jenné and
Timbuctoo. They are very rich in herds of oxen, sheep and goats,
and rear great quantities of poultry. They are very industrious,
and manufacture cotton stuffs, which they sell to the people of
the neighbouring towns and villages. The cotton tree, which they
cultivate, flourishes exceedingly in this place. They also make
cloth from the wool of sheep, for the purpose of traffic.
I saw the inhabitants, who never go out unless armed with pikes, and
bows and arrows. They have woolly hair and a very black complexion,
and are in other respects like the Mandingoes, to which race indeed
they belong, though they speak another language.
About ten at night, we left the village of Cona, with a fine
moon-light that would have favoured our progress, but the negroes
thought proper to lie to at eleven o’clock. As soon as the vessels
are anchored they betake themselves to sleep, without leaving any
one to keep watch, for they are not accustomed to such duty when
at anchor.
On the 1st of April, at six in the morning, we made ready to start:
a breeze was blowing, which however, about midnight so encreased
in violence, that we were compelled to stop. Had we attempted to
proceed, the canoe would infallibly have been destroyed; for during
this gale it made more water than usual.
The frequent halts which we were obliged to make were very annoying
to me; for I was obliged to remain on board exposed to the heat of
the sun. How pleased should I have been had the adjacent country
been like the smiling shores of the Senegal! But here the immense
monotonous plains on all sides fatigue the eye of the traveller.
The course of the river, though winding in some parts, is still
northward. On the morning of the 1st of April, I observed a large
hill, about two hundred and fifty feet high, distant three or four
miles from the left bank of the river. It was without vegetation,
and appeared to be composed of red sand.
We daily expected the owner of the canoe, who, on departing from
Jenné, promised to join us in two days. He had assured me, that
even in his absence I should be well treated on board. The case,
however, was quite the reverse, so I looked for him with the utmost
impatience, trusting that his presence would better my condition.
After my departure from Jenné, I had the misery of being the
only white man among the negroes, and with their language I was
unacquainted. This circumstance, joined to my being a stranger,
and almost destitute, emboldened them to insult me in the grossest
manner. I was absolutely ranked and treated as a slave.
During the day the heat was excessive, and I had great trouble
to find a place where I could be shaded from the burning sun,
which was almost insupportable, even in a state of inaction. In
the night I slept on deck, for there was no room for me below. I
was exposed to the dew and all the inclemency of the night; but I
took the precaution of wrapping myself in a sheep-skin. However,
this did not prevent me from being seized, on the 31st March,
with a violent fit of illness. I experienced severe numbness,
followed by great weakness, and my stomach rejected food.
During my illness I was permitted to go into the cabin; but the place
assigned me there was very inconvenient. I was with a Mandingo and
his female slave; and they allowed me so little room that I could
not lie straight; my head touched my knees. I had been particularly
recommended to the care of this negro by the sherif Oulad-Marmou;
but he paid no regard to the directions he had received, and showed
as little pity for me as the rest of the crew. I ought, however,
to exempt from this censure a young Foulah from Massina, to whom
the sherif had also recommended me. He was the only one who had
behaved to me with any kindness. He went on shore whenever I asked
him, bought me milk, and rendered me all the service he could. He
even endeavoured to console me when I expressed dissatisfaction
at the inattention with which I was treated by the rest. He
often reprimanded the slaves, who, following the example of their
superiors, behaved with the grossest insolence towards me. In short,
I should have been much worse off had it not been for the attention
of this kind-hearted young man.
In the course of my travels I have often had intercourse with the
Mandingoes, and, with the single exception of those of Cambaya, in
the Fouta, I have always found them arrogant when possessed of any
little authority, while they are fawning, mean, and servile, to their
superiors. I have seen them, in the passage from Tinné to Jenné,
insult the poor Bambaras while selling their merchandise, speaking
harshly to them, and even abusing them in their own language; but
whenever the Bambaras showed a disposition to resent this treatment,
the Mandingoes became all at once silent and humble. The women
have the same faults, in addition to which they have insufferably
harsh voices.
On the 1st of April, the wind continued blowing till four in
the evening, when it fell a little. We rowed in a northern
direction. Near half past six in the evening we halted at Toï. The
river still continued the same; the banks being low and bare, and
in many places not a single shrub can be seen. At nine o’clock,
we started, and all night advanced towards the north. The river
makes a few small windings to the east.
On the 2nd of April the weather continued calm. Towards eight
o’clock in the morning we passed some large islands, situated not
far from the mouth of the lake Débo. The river is here divided by
several islands, which separate it into different narrow branches
of great depth. Two of these islands are larger than the rest, and
might be habitable, for, when the river overflows, they are only
partially inundated. On one of these islands, there are the huts of
fishermen, and of shepherds, whose numerous flocks find rich pasture
on the marshes. These marshes are covered by aquatic birds of every
kind. There is an infinite number of other small islands covered
with rank grass, and inundated at all seasons. When this immense
river overflows all the herbage is under water, and then the lake
appears much more extensive; its banks are no longer perceptible,
and it might be mistaken for an inland Sea.
After a slow navigation, during which we made repeated halts,
we reached the mouth of the great lake about three in the
afternoon. About six miles S. W. of this entrance, there is a rock
in the form of a truncated sugarloaf; it is situated in an inundated
marsh which is covered with green herbage. This enormous rock, which
is quite bare, forms a singular contrast with the freshness of the
surrounding vegetation. As it has, though a very striking land-mark,
received no name from the natives, I thought proper to give it one,
and have named the whole spot St. Charles’s Island. In the lake,
and about nine or ten miles to the N. E. is a small island on which
I observed some trees almost destitute of leaves. It is capable
of being inhabited, and affords facilities for the formation of
a good port. I have named it Henry Island, in honour of his Royal
Highness the Duke of Bourdeaux. A third island, also formed of rock,
is situated between these two, a little to the eastward of the
line which would intersect them, and to it I have given the name of
Maria-Theresa, in honour of her Royal Highness the Dauphiness. Two
of these islands appear to command the mouth of the lake. Were
a fort built on one of the three it would command the environs,
and the navigation would be under the control of the possessor.
To the N. N. E. of the island of Maria-Theresa we observed a hill
about fifty or sixty fathoms high. It is composed of red earth,
and of large porous rocks of the same colour. Some fishermen have
established themselves on the declivity of this hill, which is
extremely arid.
Land is seen on every side of the lake except on the west, where it
spreads out like an inland sea. On coasting along its northern side,
and steering nearly W. N. W. to the distance of fifteen miles, we
leave on the left a tongue of very flat land, which extends several
miles southward. It seems to close the passage of the lake, and to
form a kind of strait. Beyond this barrier the lake is prolonged,
as I have said, towards the west, until it is lost in the horizon.
The barrier I have just mentioned divides lake Debo into two lakes,
the upper and the lower. That through which the boats passed, and
in which the three islands I have mentioned are situated, is very
large. It extends in an easterly direction, and is surrounded by
extensive marshes. Land is visible on every side.
When we had advanced as far as the middle of the first division,
three of the large boats fired some muskets, to salute this
majestic lake, and the crew of each boat shouted with all their
might _Salam! Salam!_ repeating the cry several times. We stood off
from the eastern bank and navigated with great caution: the lake
was calm and the water clear. The current was not perceptible on
its surface, the depth of the part which we navigated was twelve
or thirteen feet. The canoes were merely rowed, and advanced very
slowly. I could not recover from my surprise at seeing so great
a mass of water in the heart of the country. There was something
very majestic in the sight.
About five in the evening we arrived off Gabibi, a small fishing
village on the right bank of the lake. The huts of this village are
made of straw and of a round form. Since we entered the lake we had
stood to the N. E. We passed close to the island of Maria-Theresa,
on which I observed some fine granite of a bright chesnut colour. We
took our departure from Gabibi, and at sun-set I saw, for the
first time, since I left the coast, that luminary sink into a sort
of ocean.
We proceeded along the shore, at some distance from it, in the
direction of W. N. W. The boatmen sang while they pushed along the
canoe with their poles. We observed large blocks of granite on the
shore. We brought to about eleven at night off Didhiover, a large
village inhabited by Foulahs, who have only straw huts like those
of the pastoral Foulahs. Some negroes went to the village to buy
giraumons. We could not procure a single drop of milk.