Chapter X: From Bussa to the Sea; Conclusion of Our Voyage (1)

The whole of the morning of the 3rd was occupied in receiving visits from people more or less nearly related to the chief, and in the afternoon I was informed that his Majesty himself would receive me.

We crossed a marsh between the village and the bank, and duly arrived at Bussa.

There is nothing very imposing about the town, and it has been recently much damaged by fire. We stopped at the door of a big round hut, some thirty-five to forty-five feet in diameter, which was really very well built. After a brief delay we were admitted.

The chief of Bussa was squatting on a bench of hardened earth, some twenty inches high, and wore a _bubu_ of doubtful cleanliness, and a cap such as that worn by the eunuch in Molière’s play to which I alluded in speaking of Dendi. The bench was covered with just such a red carpet, with a lion rampant as I had seen at Tenda. The chief’s spear was stuck in the ground beside him, and his sceptre consisted of a cane ornamented with copper and silver. A horribly ugly wife, with a face covered with scars, shared the royal bench, whilst the courtiers remained squatted on the sand during the interview. On entering the hut every one was expected to kneel, and on reaching the chief the visitor had again to prostrate himself and cast sand upon his own head.

A wooden bench was assigned to us to sit on, and I spread out the handsomest present I had brought with me.

Salutations were now exchanged. Thanks were given in the name of the Sultan of the French for the help given to Captain Toutée the year before by the Bussa canoes. I then slipped in a word about the facilities of transport I hoped for for myself.

The reply was evasive, and moreover the expression of the chief’s face was anything but intelligent. We returned on board.

The next day our visitors became more and more numerous. Having shown off the phonograph to various persons, the rumour of that wonderful instrument reached the ears of the chief himself, and he sent word to me that he too would like to hear it.

He was, however, unwilling to put himself to any inconvenience for the sake of it, and wished me to take it to him. Anywhere else but at Bussa I would have said he might go to the devil, for it would be a very delicate operation to take the phonograph to him, especially across the marsh. But I was determined to do all in my power to conciliate the chief, so as to have his aid when I crossed the rapids. Four of my strongest coolies were therefore told off to carry the instrument, which fortunately arrived without sustaining any damage.

The scene when I showed off the powers of the phonograph was interesting, for while the attendants of the chief could not conceal their surprise, he himself maintained his dignity, and his set features expressed nothing but stupidity. He offered us a sheep, because he said, “Now that we have been well amused, we must eat well.” Trying to turn his good humour to account, I reverted to the question I had at heart—the passage of the rapids. It appeared that my question on the subject had not been understood the evening before, at least so I was now given to understand. I repeated my request, taking care this time to make my meaning perfectly clear. I wanted Bussa canoes to take everything we had on board down below the rapids to the village of Auru, as they do the merchandise of the village. We ourselves could then pass down quite easily in our lightened crafts with the guides I also asked for. I got a promise at last that all my wishes should be met.

On the 5th, however, there were still no canoes, but at four o’clock the chief sent for me and told me that the whole thing was arranged and settled. In fact, I heard him give the orders to two negroes, who were, I was told, the chief canoe men. We agreed that I should pay two hundred thousand cowries. Thinking that everything was really settled this time, I gave the chief my own fowling-piece and a little pocket revolver.

During the day more big canoes, from about twenty-seven to thirty-three feet long, came alongside of our boats loaded with rice and the native produce called _karité_. The English at Seba I was told give two bags of salt for one of rice, and the _karité_ which comes from Rupia fetches a good price in the factories.

I must note here, _en passant_, how little we French know how to make the most of what we have in our colonies. This _karité_, for instance, which is a greasy substance extracted from the fruit of the _Bassia parkii_, is to be obtained in immense quantities in the French Sudan. It has been analyzed, and there has been a great deal of talk about it in periodical literature, but not a pound of it has been exported.

I had mentally fixed the 7th as the date for our departure from Bussa, at whatever cost. We had now been there three days, and the English must have heard of our arrival. How would they behave towards us? I know that the Royal Niger Company is not particularly scrupulous as to the means it employs, and of this there are plenty of well-known instances: such as the torture of Mizon by Flint at Akassa, after being wounded in a fight with the Patanis, who were perhaps incited against him; or in the case of the foundering of the _Ardent_, when her crew, deprived of fresh provisions, died off, the Company showing not a scrap of compassion for them, or at least not sending them any help.

From the English point of view, it would be a fairer way of making war to rouse the people of Bussa against us; but never mind, we have cannon, rifles, and thirty thousand cartridges, so that although the natives do own a certain number of quick-firing weapons, we should be the ones to get the best of it in a fight.

What I really dread more than the open hostility of the Company is a sham friendliness on their part. If they came to our aid, offering to help us, even in spite of ourselves, it would only be a bit of clever diplomacy on their part, really quite against our interests.

I knew that the English had a post at Leba, about forty-four miles down-stream, and if there happened to be men enough there, they might send a detachment up to us, to conquer difficulties they had themselves perhaps created, when they would loudly declare that they had saved our lives.

Should this take place, I feel pretty sure there are many in France who would be simple enough to be taken in; such a thing has happened before now, and I bet you anything you like, the English will be warmly thanked. Remaining behind after we are gone too, they will reap all the moral effect of our arrival from the Upper Niger; the natives distinguish very little between the different white nations, and it would be only too easy for the English to represent that we are fellow-countrymen of theirs who have established themselves higher up-stream.

If, therefore, we meant to succeed, and not to have our expedition fail at the very entrance of the long-hoped-for haven, we must push on as soon as possible, with or without the help of the natives. This was the resolution come to by us five in a little council of war we held together.

At four o’clock in the afternoon there was still no sign of a canoe. The moment of decision had come. We had quantities of things in our holds of little use or value, so I determined to lighten the boats as much as possible, partly to lessen their draught, and partly to make it easier to get at their bottoms to plug up any leak which should occur.

To begin with, there was all our ammunition, for except for a few, used to practise shooting and to kill crocodiles, our store of thirty thousand cartridges was intact. I decided to sacrifice twenty-two thousand, and Digui, having found a place where the river was deep enough not to dry up in the summer, our canoe went backwards and forwards, and our men threw the cases into the river one by one. The natives of Bussa ran to the banks and looked on in stupefied astonishment; the copper cases gleaming in the sunshine excited their cupidity.

Next we drowned many of our other stores. Into the water with our bottles of oil and pots of pomade! Then into the fire with our celluloid bracelets, necklaces, and rings! The despair of the natives on the bank became deeper and deeper, reaching its height when, just to wind up with _éclat_ and to increase their regrets rather than from necessity, we flung two or three dozen many-coloured umbrellas on to the blazing pile. This produced positive desolation amongst the spectators. All the better, it would teach them to behave properly to foreigners.

A Fulah, sent I was told by the Sultan of Gando, flung himself at my feet and entreated me to stop the destruction, assuring me that the chief of Bussa would do all we wished. I reminded him of a proverb current in his native place: “It is no good to put the fish back in the water after it is cooked.” I had often been to that monarch’s court, I added, and I had no time to begin all over again, probably in vain, the palavers of yesterday and the day before that. I had had enough of it now.

The river was falling too; we had noticed a decrease of some four inches in the depth of the water during the last twenty-four hours, and although all the natives agreed in declaring that it was only temporary, I was not going to run the risk of finding our passage blocked.

Amongst the crowd I noticed a _diavandu_ from Igga, who was trying to incite the natives against us. There were several of his fellow-countrymen there too, easily identified by their _bubus_ with the green embroideries already referred to as sold by the Niger Company.

I was now assured that the chief had had his canoe men put in irons for disappointing us, but unfortunately a minute afterwards I recognized them in the crowd.

I copy the following sentence from my journal written on the spur of the moment—

“It is very evident that the English have not lost time since last year; they have not, it is true, as I feared they would, pushed their effective occupation up-stream, but have merely, so to speak, set going the cavalry of Saint George. Their plan is simply to delay us; yes, to delay us till it is impossible for our boats to pass the rapids. We should then be obliged to go by land through Burgu, which they know to be dangerous, and where they have no doubt sown obstacles for us—one well-aimed shot, one well-planted poisoned arrow, and there would be an end of our expedition and its results. Otherwise there would be nothing left for us to do but to go down to Leba and ask the English to co-operate with us.

“This was the policy described by Agoult, but _Inch Allah!_ our rivals will not have the latter satisfaction. Let us pass the rapids somehow or other, and I promise myself that I will describe the odiousness of such conduct even to, indeed especially to, the honest portion of the English nation. The first thing to be done is to pass the rapids.”

Weary of the dispute, and seeing that I was quite decided not to return to the village, the messenger from the chief now left. Our old guide was in despair, for he had boasted so much to us of his influence over the chief of Bussa. “I must have become blind or stupid,” he said, “for he cannot really have been telling lies all the time.”

I tried to persuade Amadu to accompany us at least, but he confessed that though it was true he had passed the rapids, it was twenty years ago. Still he did not like to refuse straight out. He would land now, and then he would see.

Night had now fallen, and a quarter of an hour after our guide had left we heard loud cries and the noise of people running. We seized our weapons, but it was only old Amadu coming back out of breath. Four or five pieces of stuff which I had given him as payment had been stolen from him. Some men had fallen on him about half-way to the village.

Seeing that they meant to take his life, or at least to deprive him of liberty, he had drawn his sword (it was only a bit of iron from an old cask), resolved to defend himself to the last. The Bussa bravos, five against one poor old man, had at first run away, and Amadu had profited by their alarm to take to his own legs. Then they ran after him again, but he managed to get safely back to us on board our boat without further adventures.

These silly natives had thus secured us a guide on whom I had certainly not counted, for Amadu would not leave our boats now. I asked him if he wanted to go down as far as Leba, to which he replied “_Dolé_,” or needs must.

For the whole night I pondered on the situation, whilst a continual watch was kept on board. My first idea was to bombard the village of Bussa at daybreak, and thus give its people a severe lesson. There really had been a flagrant and successful attack made on the person of a member of my expedition.

Further reflection, however, brought me to a better mind, for, truth to tell, I did not know how matters stood with regard to the questions of delimitation between the French and the English. The latter claim Bussa in virtue of treaties made with the Royal Niger Company, but Commandant Toutée denies that these treaties are valid. Who is right? Who is wrong? I am sure I don’t know. The chief of Bussa acted towards me as if he were quite independent, and perhaps he is the one to speak the truth after all.

If, however, the actual or implicit assertions of the English be true, it results that one of their _protégés_ had committed an aggression on one of our party, the odium and responsibility of which rests with them. Either they have effective power and real influence at Bussa, which would make them accomplices, or they have not, and in the latter case their assertions are lies. The dilemma appears to me to be one difficult to elude, and I leave to French diplomatists the task of deducting from it the practical consequences.

I think I must have scented mischief when I refrained from accepting the chief’s last invitation. That at least was the opinion of our guide, for he is convinced that if he had not made his escape the evening before, his head would have been no longer on his shoulders.

I learnt later that when the attack took place on the director Fonssagrives at Yangbassu, the people of Bussa had sent reinforcements to the assailants. Once more a mere chance had saved us from a great danger, and from falling into the trap set for us.

The 7th and 8th of this month will ever remain in our memories two of the most terrible of the whole journey. Just because we had in them to meet the last dangers of our eventful journey down the Niger, at least of those dangers for which Nature alone was responsible, the anxiety they caused seemed almost unbearable.

At first the river was easily navigable enough, but we soon came to the first rapid. This we crossed successfully, however, the _Davoust_ in one great rush, the _Aube_ after being compelled to anchor just above it, till Digui returned for her with a reinforcement of rowers.

We anchored at Malali for breakfast, and Digui went to reconnoitre the rapid below that village. We were just finishing our meal when some messengers arrived from the chief of Bussa. Yet again we are to hear from him!

The messengers explained that although a nominal ruler, the chief had really less influence than any one in his village. He had done his very utmost to overcome the indifference of those about him to our wishes, but it had all been in vain. “We were relations!” he added, and he did not wish us to go away angry with him. To this I replied that one of our men had been molested and robbed, and I would not add a syllable to anything which was said until the objects stolen from him had been restored and the guilty men punished. The messengers swore that the chief knew nothing about the outrage, and, after all, this may have been true, for this poor down-trodden demi-god of a chief had none but venal courtiers about him, and unless we interfere to save it, Bussa is a prey marked down for the big teeth of perfidious Albion.

Digui returned wet through; he had tried to shoot the rapid, but the canoe was swamped, and he had only just time to save himself by running her into the bank. In fact, it was quite impossible to reconnoitre here as we had hitherto done. We had to make examining the river from the banks do. Such was the violence of the current, so narrow were the passes and so big the waves, that canoes could only pass the rapids by shooting through little channels quite impracticable to our barges.

A dreary prospect truly! But one way was open to us, and not even the natives knew anything about it. We walked along the bank, and an eager discussion took place at each eddy we came to. Were there rocks beneath them or were they merely whirlpools? At last, thanks be to God, we came to the end of them.

We managed, after all, to pass them all in our boats, and they were indeed enough to terrify any one; but they were really more alarming than dangerous, for there was plenty of water above most of the rocks. In one pass, some 54 yards wide, shut in between two large reefs, a good half of the waters of the Niger flings itself over with a tremendous roar.

The immense velocity of the current is such that the water dashes up the banks like the waves of the sea, and there is one paradoxical thing about it: the level is at least three feet higher near the banks than in midstream, where a kind of trough is formed.

It is along this trough that we have to steer, and it is really very dreadful to see the large masses of water piled up on either side, looking as if they were ready to rush together and engulf us between them.

Digui made a very sensible speech to his crew.

“Attention,” he cried, “no one is to look out of the boat; every one must put out all his strength; but I’ll break the head of the first man who looks beyond the deck.”

Then ensued thirty seconds of mortal agony; there was a kind of flash like lightning, and the current had seized the barge in its grip, hugging it tightly. The vessel seemed about to break beneath the masses of water flung back from the banks to the centre of the stream, but it was over; we had got safely through the pass.

I estimate the speed of the current at from twelve to fourteen miles, and if the boat had struck on an unnoticed rock as it rushed along, we knew that it must have been split open from stem to stern.

On the right of the pass is a group of little islands where the current is broken up, and its strength lessened. It is amongst them that canoes are able to get through, turning the quieter water to account; but, as I said before, the passes there were too narrow for our boats.

We were soon flung on to a second rapid, less majestic and terrible in appearance, but perhaps more dangerous than the first. To pass it safely, we had to steer to the left to begin with, and then bear to the right as much as possible to avoid the waves driven back in that direction by a great rock over which the water fell like a huge moustache; only the utmost care and skill saved the boats from being flung upon a bank of sharp flints near the left bank. In fact, it was an even more delicate manœuvre to achieve than to describe!

Beyond this rapid the water was boiling and seething as in some huge caldron; whirlpools and waves met and clashed into each other, and even between the rapids, in comparatively calm water, there was such a swell on that the boats were lifted high up and rolled about as if at sea.

We anchored off Garafiri, whilst above and below us roared the rapids.

The next day, the 8th, we started early and passed without difficulty the Kandji rapid, which is comparatively easy. We breakfasted at Konotasi; at least, that is the way the natives seem to me to pronounce the name marked Kpatachi on maps.

Digui again went to reconnoitre, and came back with the gloomy face of old difficult days. The trading canoes which had left Bussa during our stay there had not yet gone, but were about to discharge their cargoes. They would take a little channel on the right, but it was too narrow for us. Moreover, there was not yet water enough even for native boats, and they would have to wait for an inundation. We must again follow the main stream, and we went along the banks to look for the pass.

Malali was nothing to what we had now to encounter, for the only pass was by an opening not as big as that of the sluice of a canal.

“Can we pass, Digui?” we asked.—“Yes, perhaps,” he replied, “if it is the will of Allah!”

With this assurance we had to be content, and I gave the order “Forward!”

When my old guide saw us steering towards the left to take the course impracticable even to native canoes he was terrified. “_Laol alla! Laol alla!_” he cried, “there is no pass there!” I put my hand over his mouth to make him hold his tongue, and flinging himself upon the deck he hid his head in his cloak.

I got my camera ready for taking a photograph, but Digui said to me. “It is not worth while!”—“Why?” I asked.—“Because you will not be able to look. You will be afraid!”

Yet Digui had seen me look at places still less attractive than this pass, which was no pass.

I proved him wrong to some extent, for I did succeed in getting two photographs of the banks we were passing. I don’t deny, however, that I felt a slight shudder pass over me, and I hope I am not more of a coward than any one else would have been under the circumstances.

This time we experienced a peculiar sensation such as we had never had before; when the boat passed over the whirlpools, everywhere intersecting each other, it seemed to be alternately sucked in and flung out again by the masses of water.

One instant of calm, then a second rapid, and we anchored in a little creek; Digui then went back to fetch the _Aube_ and the _Dantec_, and we found ourselves all once more safely together.

We had still two more rapids to cross, the first easy, the second more difficult, on account of a very violent current flowing towards a channel on the left encumbered with flints.

According to the maps, we should now come to a stretch of calm water. I hoped to anchor above the Auru pass, which would be the last, and to attempt its passage the next day.

At Auru the Niger makes a bend to the right of ninety degrees, and the main channel is so terribly encumbered with rocks and impedimenta of all kinds, whilst the current is at the same time so fearfully strong, that it would not do to attempt to go down it in the night. However, there is an arm which cuts across the bend, and though still very difficult, makes it possible to shoot the rapid.

All of a sudden, as we were quietly going along, the river in front of us seemed to turn abruptly to the right.

I began to suspect that there was a mistake on the maps, and that we were much nearer to Auru than we had thought. Still I hesitated for a minute. However, there was a little channel on the right with a hill rising above it on which was perched a village. It _must_ be Auru. Just then the main current, which grew rapidly stronger, seized us, and we were on the point of being swept down by it and swamped. “To the bank! To the bank, Digui!” I shouted; “quick, quick!”—“All right, all right,” was the reply, and he tried to wring an explanation out of the guide, who could give none. Ten seconds wasted in discussion, and it would be too late. We _were_ too late; we had passed the practicable channel.

“Anchor! anchor!” I shouted. Yes, the anchors hold, and for the moment we are saved!

On our starboard the banks consisted of half-submerged flints, from which grew some small aquatic trees. It was this vegetation which had misled our guide, for when he was here twenty years before it did not exist.

We now had to make our way against the current to get back to the good channel. It was simply impossible to do so by rowing. The only thing to be done was to lengthen our ropes, and fastening them to trees, tow ourselves along, so to speak, from place to place. It took us about three hours and a half to do it.

Somehow or another, however, we did achieve the difficult task of getting safely into the right course again.

The _Dantec_, which had anchored behind the _Davoust_, had only a light load now, and I thought it would take less time for her to cross the river and go up along the left bank, where the current was less violent.

Unfortunately, however, the manœuvre was not executed as quickly as it should have been, for the _Dantec_ drifted a good way in making the crossing, and it was just all she could do to get up-stream again.

We moored the two big boats to trees, and Digui went once more to reconnoitre. We now had to slip as best we could through the narrow channels between the rocks, before we attempted the shooting of the rapid itself.

We should have had time to pass before night, but I would not leave the _Dantec_ behind, and I sent Digui in his canoe to her with extra rowers. We remained moored to our trees, and fortunately found near our stopping-place a little bit of nearly dry ground, where we were able to light a fire.

At first we could see the _Dantec_ slowly making her way up-stream, then she became hidden by trees. Two whole hours of suspense passed by, and it was now quite dark. We shouted as loud as we could to make ourselves heard above the noise of the rapids, but no answer came for a long time. All of a sudden we heard Digui’s voice crying: “We are swamped!” A momentary lull in the roar of the water had enabled us to hear these far from reassuring words, but the rest died away in the darkness of the night. Was our barge then at the bottom of the river? What had become of our coolies? Were they drowned or clinging to some bushes on the bank? There was no way of helping them, for Digui had taken the canoe. It was a cruel moment for us all, and our anxiety was redoubled when we presently saw the canoe coming back with only three men in her.

But after all every one was safe and the barge uninjured. As she was going up-stream the _Dantec_ had got her mast caught in a tree, and had been tilted over so that she filled with water; in fact was, as Digui had cried, swamped for the moment. Fortunately, however, some roots kept her up, and our coolies had managed to get rid of the water and float her again. She was not able to join us yet, but she was moored to some trees quite close to us.

That night was anything but pleasant to any of us. We were wet through, and anxiety about the morrow kept us awake. After a time the perpetual noise of the water surging about the rocks and round the trunks of the trees produces a peculiar effect on the mind, an effect alike strange and depressing, for one fancies one hears the moaning of the spirits of the water, which the natives believe haunt the river.

Our guide told us that the Auru rapids are inhabited by demons, whose voices are heard at night. They are said to have a passion for everything of a red colour, so that those who navigate the river have to hide anything of that hue, lest the demons should swamp their boats for the sake of getting possession of it.

I never saw the devils of Auru, but I can honestly say that I heard them; in fact, that we all heard them. All through the night one or the other of us was constantly being woke up by peculiar noises, amongst which we certainly fancied we could distinguish voices.

In this frame of mind, and unable as we were to communicate with the _Dantec_, we kept thinking that some misfortune had befallen her, and that the strange voices were those of our coolies clinging perhaps to trees as they called for help, or consulting together what they could do to save themselves.

But day dawned at last, and we succeeded in towing back the _Dantec_, on which we found our men all well, though very cold and weary. We now held a consultation and decided that the _Davoust_ should pass first and anchor opposite the point of the island between the two arms of the river. Digui and some coolies would then go back from there to help in bringing down the _Aube_ and the _Dantec_.

We threaded our way carefully amongst the rocks to keep in the right channel, and then the _Dantec_ simply fell into the rapids. There was less swell with fewer waves than there had been at Garafiri or at Konotasi, but I think there was also less depth of water. On the right and the left were countless rocks over which the river dashed foaming and seething. We found it impossible to anchor as we had intended off the end of the island, for the current swept us into the village of lower Auru on the right bank.

I therefore sent Digui back by land with some of the men. We waited for two hours without hearing anything. At last we saw one of the coolies running back to us, and he brought the bad news that in trying to cross the small arm of the river to take the second master pilot on board, the canoe had capsized, and the _Aube_ had now no means of communicating with the land. Baudry had sent to ask me to try and get a boat from the village. I went there, and with the aid of our guide Amadu I made my request. Very great unwillingness to grant it was at first shown, followed by a formal refusal on the ground that the villagers had been forbidden to help us. Who had forbidden it? I could not find out. I drew forth my revolver and held it to the chief’s forehead. It was the first and last time I ever had recourse to such an argument as this, but it had the desired effect. A canoe was sent off from the village with two rowers, and I went along the bank to the place where the _Aube_ was anchored.

When I got there, I found that the canoe was righted again. Our coolies had plunged into the very rapid itself, and clinging to submerged roots they had succeeded in passing ropes under her keel and floating her. The water where she had gone down was more than nine feet deep. Brave fellows, indeed, were these coolies of mine! They may have their faults; they are gluttons and liars; they are often lazy enough; but on any dangerous emergency these scions of the noble Sarracolais race rise to the occasion, and their devotion may be depended upon under whatever strain.

Baudry now informed me that the rudder of the _Dantec_ was broken, so that it was impossible to steer her. “Take the crew off and abandon her? No! I hope to take her on by towing her!”

I watched everything made ready for the difficult manœuvre. The _Dantec_ was towed along from tree to tree, to the very edge of the big rapid, whilst behind her came the canoe with a rope passed twice round a trunk, as her bow plunged into the foam. On the stern of the _Aube_ stood Samba Demba, our best coolie, with a coiled rope in his arms, ready to fling it to the _Dantec_ as she went over the rapid. One second’s hesitation, and everything would go wrong, and I was on the very point of shouting to Baudry to give up his plan, but it was really such a splendid piece of daring, such a thoroughly sailor-like thing to do, that I refrained. Yet once more, thank God, we succeeded, coming off with flying colours.

Slowly the _Aube_ loosened her moorings, and the current at first took her gently down, then quicker and ever quicker she rushed along as she crossed the _Dantec_. Bravo! the rope, flung with unerring aim, fell right into her bow. “Let go all!” and the _Aube_ and _Dantec_ plunged into the rapid. Will they be able to shoot it in safety? The shouts of the excited coolies reach me above the roar of the water. The doctor and Bluzet have each taken an oar. For a moment I thought all the boats would be flung against the rocks on the left, which would have been their complete destruction; but the next I saw them gradually bearing to the right. At last they were through, all danger past!

The _Aube_, swept on by the current, could not stop near the _Davoust_, and there was yet another rapid, quite a small one, below the village. She passed it without difficulty, and went to anchor some hundred yards down-stream, where we hastened to join her.

We had done with the rapids now, and not one of us was missing, not one of our boats had been lost. We clasped each other’s hands without a word.

But our excitement gradually subsided, and we shouted, “Filey, get us some breakfast; and mind you do your best!”

We started again about two o’clock, and half-an-hour later we were opposite Leba, where floats the white flag of the Royal Niger Company, with its ship and the circle cut across by three rays, bearing the motto, _Pax, Jus, Ars_. Here we had to meet our last danger. What would the English do? I awaited them with composure, for it is we who have the whip hand now, and to begin by showing them that I was not going to submit to a compulsory halt, we passed on without stopping at Leba. There was a good deal of bustle at the station, however, and eleven riflemen came out and took up their position on the bank. Certainly there was effective occupation here, not a doubt of it; only every one will admit that no such effective occupation has taken place higher up-stream. My difficulties at Bussa may perhaps be renewed here, indeed increased. Lower Auru is about a mile and three-quarters from Leba. Either the English rule here or they do not; in the former case, it was they who had told the natives not to give us any help when two of our boats were in the greatest danger. In the second case, this effective occupation is very precarious and limited at the only point where there are any troops, and for the very best of reasons it does not extend to Bussa, which, from the European point of view, remains _rex nullius_.

A tornado compelled us to anchor about four o’clock near the left bank, and we kept as strict a watch as we had done in the Tuareg country. We took care to be on our guard against _a blow from the Tatanis_, such as had succeeded so well in the case of Mizon.

For the sake of those who have forgotten that incident I will add here that Mizon was attacked at the mouth of the Niger by Patanis, when he was entering it in his vessel, the _René Caillé_. When he complained, the Niger Company replied: “We were not aware that you were there.” Those very Patanis, his enemies of the day before, brought him wood for burning, by order of the English agent.

At about eight o’clock on October 10 we passed Badjibo, or rather Guadjibo, where Captain Toutée had built Fort Arenberg. After he had evacuated it the English took possession of it, finding it in perfect repair. There is no doubt that as the Company already had a station at Leba, above Guadjibo, the French occupation of the latter place was open to discussion.

I once started a conversation in a meeting at the Sorbonne, which at one moment seemed likely to become acrimonious, for I quoted a remark of Baron d’Haussy, Naval Minister in the time of Charles X., as a base of the policy to be followed in dealing with the English. It is well known that in a talk with the English ambassador, d’Haussy, irritated at the off-hand manner of the latter, said: “If you want a diplomatic answer, the President of the Council will give it to you; as for me, I say, setting aside official language, that _nous nous f . . . de vous_.”[11]

The remark was certainly not couched in diplomatic terms, but it represented the only way to treat the English. When, however, we act upon the principle applied we must take every care to be well within our rights. If, through any imprudence at the beginning, you lay yourself open to have to withdraw a single step later, your rivals know how to turn it to account by making you go back ten.

The village of Guadjibo is situated on the left bank. Fort Arenberg, the name of which the Royal Niger Company has changed into Taubman-Goldie, is opposite to it on the right bank. A guard of riflemen came to do us the honours of the pass, and then a few minutes later two canoes put off from the bank to follow us, but we gained rapidly upon them.

Without having stopped at either of the first two English posts we reached Geba, having thus asserted our right to navigate the river without any compulsory halt or any interference on the part of the Company.

As Geba is approached the scenery becomes more and more picturesque. Peaks hundreds of feet high dominate the almost precipitous verdure-clad hills, the bases of which are bathed by the river.

At last at four o’clock, suddenly rounding a headland, and steering from west to east, we found ourselves opposite a group of magnificent jagged rocks, whilst further on we could see the corrugated roofs and the piles of casks on the bank with the flag of the Royal Niger Company, belonging to the English station.

At Geba, as at Auru, the Niger is haunted by evil spirits, who are fond of red, so instead of advising us to follow the deep but narrow main channel between the lofty rocks, our guide wanted us to pass the rapid where the _Morning Star_, the boat of Richard Lander, the first explorer who had passed Bussa, had been wrecked.

To the great disappointment of our adviser, however, we insisted upon going between two large pillars of rock where there was no danger whatever. The rocks hid all the red on board our boats, except that in our flag.

Our boats came up one after the other, and anchored off the bank near the station of Geba.

A negro of Sierra Leone, a commercial agent, now came and placed himself at our disposal, pending the arrival of the Governor of the station, who, he informed us, had gone inland, and would not be back till near nightfall. Naturally I refused all offers of help until the Governor should return. An hour later we saw two canoes being paddled down-stream, and recognized them as those which had followed us since we left Guadjibo. In them were the Governor of the station, Captain Carrol, and some English soldiers in the service of the Company.

Having heard at Lakodja, the Governor told us, of our approaching arrival at Bussa, he had started at once with a strong escort, and by forced marches had gone up the banks of the river, knocking up two horses and getting fever, all for the sake of helping us in the name of the Company, and he had come back after all with an empty bag! At Leba he had heard of our passage, and had gone back, covering some seventy miles in twenty-four hours, to Fort Goldie, where he had waited for us to breakfast with him. Not having seen any whites there, however, he concluded we had passed, so that by chance, and chance is responsible for a good many things, it was I, who had come down from Timbuktu to his station, who welcomed him at his own post with the words, “How do you do?”

This was really one of the most amusing incidents of our journey. To a cynical observer the episode would have appeared truly unique.

The situation, amusing as it was, was however just a little strained. I confess too that with the memory fresh in my mind of all the difficulties I had had at Bussa and at Ilo, and which might easily have led to the loss of our boats, I did nothing to relieve the tension between us.

“Before I talk about anything else,” I said to Carrol, “I must tell you what happened at Bussa and at Auru, a few miles from your post at Leba. I will not accept the offers of service from the Company, nor from its agents, nor from its officers, until I know that you had nothing to do with those difficulties.”

Quite upset by what I said, he gave me his word, the word of a soldier, that he knew absolutely nothing about them. The same assurance was given to me later by Major Festing, military Commandant, and by the civilians Messrs. Drew and Wallace.

The ice was now broken, and we were able _inter pocula_ to allow ourselves the pleasure of chatting about European affairs with the Governor. He was the first European we had seen for a year. Ah, if only he had been a Frenchman!

Carrol was an Irishman, who spoke French well, and he lent us some English and French newspapers. He told us—without any details however—of the death of Mores, and of the massacre of a French expedition in the west on the Nikki side. We at once compared dates. This expedition consisted perhaps of our comrades sent to bring us the famous orders we had waited for at Say for five months. On hearing this sad news, I became eager to hasten our march to tell the people at Dahomey of the disturbed condition of the districts round Say. Later, Taburet was able to ascertain by carefully reading the English newspapers, that the expedition referred to was that led by Fonssagrives.

Captain Carrol, who was really a very good fellow and a capital companion, put everything he possessed at our disposal, and that meant a very great deal to us, though really he did not own much, for though the Royal Niger Company houses its officers well, it treats them shabbily, and makes them pay dearly for the few comforts they have.

We responded to Carrol’s hospitality by inviting him to dinner the next evening. Fortunately the chief of Ilo had not drunk all our champagne. We had plenty too of the wine we had brought as part of our rations, which in the course of all its travels had become very good claret, and with some mutton, for which of course we paid very dearly on principle, we managed to give our guests a very respectable meal. The English officers were a good deal surprised at finding us so well supplied with everything.

We were taking our coffee after dinner when we heard the whistle of one of the Company’s steamers. They were expecting the _Sudan_, I was told, an old cargo-boat which was to take Mr. Drew, executive officer of the district of Geba, to Lakodja. It turned out, however, not to have been the _Sudan’s_ whistle, but that of a mere launch called the _Bargu_, which had disturbed us.

Carrol sent word to Major Festing, who was on board, by a canoe, and a few minutes afterwards the military Commandant appeared in immaculate linen clothes, the evening dress of the colonies. We drank a glass of champagne together, the officer, who seemed very worried, tossing it off rapidly. As Carrol had done, he declared he had had nothing whatever to do with the Bussa affair, and I readily believed him. I still, however, felt some distrust of the agents of the Company, and I thought it my duty to decline the offer of Major Festing to tow our boats with his _Bargu_ as far as Lokodja. I thought I had better first have an explanation with the agents of the Company properly so called. I was told that Mr. Wallace, the general agent, was expected soon, and as he was on his way up the river, we were sure to meet him.

Still this did not prevent our fraternizing with Carrol and Festing; they spoke French, and we could jabber English after a fashion, though Taburet was the only one who knew it pretty well. In the morning two other officers arrived, one to replace, at Leba, a lieutenant who had lately died, and the other on his way to Geba or Guadjibo. Both had recently been wounded with poisoned arrows in a fight with the natives. The officers of the Royal Niger Company evidently have rather a rough time of it.

Taburet went to see the sick at the station, where there were neither medicine nor other remedies to be had. Just as we were leaving we saw some negroes approaching, loaded with a supply of beer and whisky for us. This delicate attention from Festing and Carrol was the better appreciated as we had been entirely deprived of these luxuries ever since we had left Kayes.

As a return gift we left the little organ at Geba, which had been our great joy at Say. It now belongs to Carrol’s successor, for we hear that the good Captain has returned safe and sound to his native country, rescued at last from the hands of the Royal Niger Company.

At about one o’clock in the afternoon of the 12th we left Geba, exchanging salutes with our flags with the station. Our old guide Amadu remained there, but Major Festing lent us a man in the service of the Company, who was, however, quite useless to us, as navigation here, difficult enough for large vessels, was perfectly easy for us now the water was so high. We had but to let ourselves go, and we went fast enough.

We reached Rabba, which seemed an unimportant factory, about five o’clock. This is the nearest point to Bidda, the capital of Nupé, which we knew to be at open war with the Company.

There are no whites at the factory of Rabba, and we did not have any dealings with the Sierra Leonese who is in charge of it.

We had been anchored for an hour, when the steam launch _Bargu_, with Major Festing on board, joined us. These launches, of which it is a pity there are not more on the Niger, are little steamers armed with a machine-gun. They carry an officer and some ten riflemen, who act as the river police only, and have nothing to do with transporting merchandise. Their office is by no means a sinecure.

The voyage began to tell very much on our men now. It was not only that they were very tired, but the rain was continuous all night, and sometimes also in the day, so that we had to put up the tents on the decks. These tents, moreover, were no longer water-tight, and the sleeping-place in the damp boats was very small.

Our negroes generally managed to stow themselves away under shelter somehow, often one on top of the other, but I should have liked better weather for this last bit of the journey, so that they might have been able to get over all they had gone through at Bussa. They made up for their discomfort at night by getting up late in the morning. All this, however, did not prevent us from making good headway without any over pressure, borne on as we were by the strong current. On the 13th we covered forty-five miles, going on until eight in the evening, just in time to anchor before we were overtaken by a tornado, and an awful one too. Fortunately we found shelter in a little gulf, and escaped with a good ducking.

On the 14th, judging by the rate at which we went, the current must have been yet stronger. We made some fifty miles, passed the night near Igga, and arrived there at eight o’clock in the morning on the 15th.

The country between Geba and Igga is uninteresting; no villages, or scarcely any, were passed, and there was no cultivation. The appearance of the banks is much what it is between Say and Bussa; a few _karités_ occur here and there, that is all. We met a canoe now and then only. The oil-palms, which had begun to appear beyond Say, now became more numerous, but the country still appeared deserted.

In a large plain near Igga there is a factory kept by a white man. Just before we reached it we saw a big boat called the _Nigritian_, which was formerly the pontoon of Yola. The Royal Niger Company had just been driven from the Benuë and from the Adamawa; its trading agents had been recalled, together with the pontoon they had been _authorized_ to use on the river. This must have been a very severe blow to the Company, for much of the ivory exported through their agents came from Adamawa and Muri.

The _Ribago_, a pretty little craft of from six to seven hundred tons, is moored at Igga. She is the best boat belonging to the Company. She brings down palm-oil in the nut before it is extracted, _karités_ and other articles for export. The oil is of a very fine quality indeed. It will probably be the _Ribago_ which will tow us down-stream if all is satisfactorily settled with the Company about Bussa and Auru.

The agent at Igga thought we should find Mr. Wallace at Lokodja. I was very anxious to see him, for it is with him I must get the misunderstanding, if misunderstanding there were, explained. His word alone would suffice to exonerate the Company from blame, and only if he could give me that word, should I care to accept his good offices on my behalf.