Chapter XIII: The Return Through Bambarra

Park’s resolution to return to the coast was taken on the 29th July 1796. His hope of accomplishing this purpose in safety seemed almost as desperate as the task of going forward. Before him lay a journey on foot of eleven hundred miles in a straight line, to which must be added an additional five hundred for deviations and the windings of the road. He had thus before him nineteen hundred miles on foot through a barbarous country, where the stranger was considered fair prey, and the laws afforded him no protection from violence. He was without the wherewithal to buy food, and had only rags to shield him from the violence of the weather and the maddening onslaughts of mosquitoes. In addition he had to face all the horrors of the tropic winter, tornadoes of wind, rain, and thunder overhead, swamps and mire under foot, and flooded streams barring the way at every turn. The hardships were sufficient to have killed any man of less indomitable spirit and weaker frame. Even Park would probably have succumbed, but that he could not die while his discoveries remained uncommunicated to his employers and the public. Till then his work was only half done. With his death it would be wholly undone--all his toil and suffering in vain. To reach the coast was therefore now a point of as much importance as formerly it had been to see the Niger.

His mind once made up, Park acted with promptitude and resolution.

He arrived at Silla on the 29th July. The night sufficed to determine his course, and morning saw the commencement of his return journey. It behoved him indeed to waste no time. A few days more and the country would be impassable by land on account of the flooded rivers. Already it was so on the southern side of the Niger--a fact Park much regretted, as he had hoped to return by that way.

Crossing to Murzan by one canoe, he was there enabled to hire another to Kea. Here he was permitted to sleep in the hut of one of the head man’s slaves, who, seeing him sick and destitute of clothes, compassionately covered him with a large cloth.

Next day, in proceeding to Madibu with the head man’s brother, he had an opportunity of seeing a peculiar instance of the native respect for private property under some circumstances. A large pile of earthenware jars were lying on the bank of the river. They had been found there two years before, and as no one had ever claimed them, they were believed to belong to some supernatural power. People passing invariably threw a handful of grass upon them, which Park thinks was to protect them from the rain, but more likely was meant as a propitiatory gift to the spirit--the practice being common over all Central Africa.

Some time after passing the jars the fresh footprints of a lion were discovered. The travellers had accordingly to proceed with very great caution. Nearing a thick wood where the dangerous brute was supposed to have its lair, the guide insisted that Park should lead the way. Unarmed as he was, the latter naturally objected, and urged further that he did not know the road. High words followed, which ended in the desertion of the negro.

There was nothing for it now but to proceed alone, lion or no lion. With no small trepidation Park passed between the wood and the river, expecting every moment to be attacked. Happily he was left to pursue his way unmolested, and reached Madibu late in the afternoon. Here he was joined by the deserter. While in the act of remonstrating with him for his recent conduct, a horse commenced to neigh in a neighbouring hut. With a smile the head man asked Park if he knew who was speaking to him, and showed him the horse, which turned out to be no other than the traveller’s own, very much improved by its rest.

Next day Park re-entered Nyami, and there was practically imprisoned by three days’ continuous rain, the after results of which he had the most serious reasons to fear. Nor were his apprehensions belied. When he left Nyami the country was deluged, the fields knee deep in water for miles together, and the pathways undiscoverable. Where not actually submerged the land was one great quagmire, in which Park’s horse stuck more than once, and had almost to be abandoned.

Next day the rain fell in torrents, detaining him again, and making travelling almost impossible. With difficulty he plunged and floundered a few miles through a swamp breast deep in water, and managed at length to reach a small Fulah village.

With tracks obliterated and the country thus flooded, it now became imperative that he should not travel alone. No guide, however, was to be found to show him the way and assist him at difficult places.

For some distance he accompanied a Moor and his wife who were proceeding to Sego with salt. They rode on bullocks, and proved to be as helpless as himself. At one place one of the bullocks suddenly fell into a hole in a morass, and sent both salt and wife into the water.

At sunset he reached Sibity, where an inhospitable reception awaited him. A damp old hut was all he could get in which to pass the night. Each moment he expected to see the rotten clay roof fall in--a common occurrence at the commencement of the rainy season. On all sides he heard the sound of similar catastrophes, and in the morning counted the wreck of fourteen dwellings.

Throughout the following day it continued to rain violently, making travelling out of the question.

On the 11th August, the head man compelled Park to move on. A new danger, it appeared, had fallen on his trouble-strewn way. It had got abroad that he was a spy, and not in favour with the king--a report sufficient to close each head man’s door against him, and extinguish every hospitable feeling in the naturally kindly heart of the negro. He was now an object not merely to be treated with passive indifference, but actively shunned as a possible danger to whomsoever should have dealings with him.

With no small foreboding he re-entered Sansanding. Counti Mamadi, who formerly had protected him from the Moors, would now have nothing to do with him, and desired him to depart early in the morning. That the head man in thus acting did violence to his own natural kindliness was sufficiently shown by his coming privately to Park during the night and warning him of the dangerous situation he was in. Especially he advised him to avoid going near Sego.

This unpleasantly altered state of matters was further illustrated when arriving next day at Kabba, he was met outside the town by a party of negroes, who seized his horse’s bridle, and in spite of his remonstrances, conducted him round the walls, and ordered him to continue his way lest worse should befall him. A few miles further on he reached a small village, but found no better reception. On his attempting to enter, the head man seized a stick and threatened to knock him down if he moved another step. There was nothing for it but to proceed to another village, where happily some women were moved to compassion by his destitute appearance, and contrived to get him a night’s lodging.

On the 13th, he reached a small village close to Sego, where he endeavoured in vain to procure some provisions. He heard, moreover, that there were orders out to apprehend him, and it was clear that it would be highly dangerous for him to remain an hour where he was. He accordingly pushed on through high grassy and swampy ground till noon, when he stopped to consider what route he should now pursue. All seemed alike bad, but everything considered, he elected to proceed westward along the Niger, and ascertain if possible how far it was navigable in that direction.

For the next three days his journey was unattended with any worse hardship than having to live upon raw corn, lodging for the night having been obtained without much difficulty. It was different, however, on the evening of the 15th, when, on his arrival at the small village of Song, he was refused admittance within the gates. The numerous footprints which he had seen while on the march had made it abundantly clear that the country was infested with lions. The prospect of spending the night in the open without means of defence was therefore anything but pleasant; but it had to be faced. Hungry and weary himself, he could still think of his horse, and he set about gathering grass for him. With nightfall, no one having offered him food or shelter, he lay down under a tree close to the gate, but dared not allow himself to sleep. With leaden shoon the minutes passed. Every sound was a note of danger, and in a state of painful alertness the outcast wanderer peered into the blackness of night, ever expecting to see a creeping form, or the glitter of two fierce eyes.

At length, some time before midnight, a hollow roar suddenly resounded through the wood, apparently coming from no great distance. In the darkness he could see nothing, strain as he might. To sit thus defenceless awaiting his doom, yet not knowing when or whence it would come, was intolerable, and driven frantic at last by the horror of his situation, he rushed to the gate, and madly tugged at it with all the energy of one who struggles for dear life. In vain, his utmost efforts were as little able to move it as were his urgent appeals to touch the hearts of the natives.

Meanwhile the lion was all unseen prowling round the village, ever lessening its circle and drawing nearer its prey. At last a rustle among the grass warned Park of its whereabouts and dangerous proximity. A moment more and he would be in its fatal clutches. His sole chance now lay in reaching a neighbouring tree. With a rush he gained and climbed it, and then feeling comparatively safe among the sheltering branches, he prepared to pass the night there. A little later, however, the head man opened the gate and invited the stranger to come within the walls, as he was now satisfied that he was not a Moor, none of whom ever waited any time outside a village without cursing it and all it contained.

From Song the country began to rise into hills, and the summits of high mountains could be seen ahead. Even here, however, travelling continued to be a matter of toil and danger, all the hollows through which the road ran being transformed into nasty swamps. At one point Park and his horse fell headlong into an unseen pit, and were almost drowned before, covered with mud, they succeeded in emerging. One of the worst features of such occurrences was the danger he incurred of losing his notes, or finding them rendered useless--a misfortune which would have gone far to bring the results of his toil to naught.

After the above mishap, Park rode through Yamina, a half-ruined town covering as much space as Sansanding. Many Moors were sitting about, and everybody watched him passing with astonishment.

Next day the road quitted the Niger plain and skirted the side of a hill. From this higher elevation the whole country had the aspect of an extensive lake.

His next journey brought him to the Frina, a deep and rapid tributary of the Niger. He was preparing to swim across when he was stopped by a native, who warned him that both he and his horse would be devoured by crocodiles. On his hastily withdrawing from the water, the man, who had never seen a European before, and now saw one minus his clothes, put his hand to his mouth, as is the fashion among most negroes of expressing astonishment, and uttered a smothered, awe-stricken exclamation. He did not run away, however, and by his assistance the proper ferry was found, and Park safely landed on the opposite bank.

In the evening the traveller arrived at Taffara, where he met with a most inhospitable reception. This was partly due to the fact that a new head man was being elected. No one would take him in, and he was compelled to sit under the palaver tree supperless, and exposed to all the rude violence of a tornado. At midnight the negro who had shown Park the way--himself a stranger to the village--shared his supper with him.

On the following march Park was glad to appease his hunger with the husks of corn. At a village further on he found the head man of the place in a bad temper over the death of a slave boy, whose burial he was superintending. The process was sufficiently summary. A hole having been dug in the field, the corpse of the boy was dragged out by a leg and an arm and thrown with savage indifference into the grave. As there seemed to be no chance of procuring food, Park rode on to a place called Kulikorro, where his reception was more kindly. Here he found he could relieve his wants by writing saphias or charms for the simple natives. The charm being written on a board, the ink was then washed off and swallowed, so as to secure the full virtue of the writing. The practice is taken from the more ignorant of the Arabs, who think that by drinking the ink used in writing the name of Allah or prayers from the Koran they will derive a spiritual or material good.

Thanks to the demand for charms of this nature, Park was enabled to enjoy the first good meal and night’s rest he had known for many days.

On the second day from Kulikorro he was directed on the wrong road, whereby he was brought late in the afternoon to a deep creek, which there was nothing for it but to swim, spite of the danger of being seized by crocodiles. This he did, holding the bridle of his horse in his teeth, and carrying his precious notes in the crown of his hat. An obstacle of this kind, however, was but a small matter to Park, who between rain and dew was now rarely dry, while the mud with which he was only too frequently bespattered made a swim both pleasant and necessary.

On this day’s march the Niger was remarked to be flowing between rocky banks with great rapidity and noise, so that a European boat would have had some difficulty in crossing the stream.

Bammaku was reached in the evening of the 23rd August, and proved to be a disappointment in the matter of size, though its inhabitants were remarkably well off on account of its being a resting-place for the Arab salt merchants. The Moors here were unusually civil to the traveller, and sent him some rice and milk.

The information Park obtained at Bammaku as to his further route was anything but encouraging. The road was declared to be impassable. Moreover, the path crossed the Joliba at a point half a day’s journey west of Bammaku, where no canoes were to be had large enough to carry his horse. With no money to support him, it was useless to think of remaining at Bammaku for some months. He therefore made up his mind to go on, and if his horse could not be got across the river, to abandon it and swim across alone.

In the morning, however, he heard from his landlord of another and more northerly road, by way of a place called Sibidulu, where he might be enabled to continue his journey through Manding. An itinerant musician, going in the same direction, agreed to act as guide.

At first Park was conducted up a rocky glen, but had not gone many miles when his companion discovered that he had taken the wrong road, the right one being on the other side of the hill. Not seeing it to be his duty to repair his blunder as far as possible, the guide threw his drum over his shoulder and continued his way over the rocks, whither Park could not follow him on horseback, but had to return to the plain and find his way himself.

Happily he succeeded in striking a horse track, which proved to be the right road; and soon he had reached the summit of the hill, where an extensive landscape spread out before him. The plain at his feet was half submerged under the Niger waters, which at one place spread out like a lake, at another were gathered into a curving river, while far to the south-east, in the hazy sheen of distance, the summits of the Kong Mountains could be dimly descried.

Towards sunset the road descended into a delightful valley, leading to a romantically situated village named Kuma. Here Park for once met with a pleasant welcome. Corn and milk in abundance were placed ready for himself, and abundance of grass for his horse. A fire even was kindled in the hut set apart for him, while outside the natives crowded round him in naïve wonderment, asking him a thousand questions.

Fain would Park have lingered in this village to rest and recruit, but an eager longing possessed him to push on, lest the loss of a day should prove fatal to his further progress. Two shepherds proceeding in the same direction as himself agreed to accompany him. In some respects the road proved to be more difficult and dangerous than anything he had previously passed. At places the ascent was so sharp, and the declivities so great, that a single false step would have caused his horse to be dashed to pieces at the bottom of the precipices.

Finding that they were able to travel faster than their white companion, the shepherds after a time pushed on by themselves. Shortly afterwards, shouts and screams of distress apprised Park that something had gone wrong ahead. Riding slowly towards the place whence the alarm had seemed to proceed, and seeing no one, he began to call aloud, but without receiving any answer. By-and-by, however, he discovered one of the shepherds lying among the long grass near the road. At first his conclusion was that the man was dead, but on getting nearer him he found that he was still alive, and was told in a whisper that the other had been seized by a party of armed men.

On looking round, Park was alarmed to discover that he was himself in imminent danger. A party of six or seven men armed with muskets were watching him. Escape being impossible, he considered it his best course to ride towards them. As he approached he assumed an air of unconcern, and pretending to take them for elephant hunters, he asked if they had shot anything. For answer one of the party ordered him to dismount; then, as if thinking better of it, signed to him to go on. Nothing loth, Park rode forward, glad to be relieved from the fear of further ill-treatment.

His relief, however, was of short duration. A loud hullo brought him suddenly to a standstill. Looking round, he saw the robbers--for such they were--running towards him. Park stopped to await their coming. He was then told that they had been sent by the King of Fulahdu to bring him and all that belonged to him to his capital. Park, to avoid ill-treatment, unhesitatingly agreed to follow them, and in silence the party travelled across country for some time. A dark wood was at last reached. “This place will do,” said one of the party, and almost simultaneously the unfortunate traveller was set upon, and his hat torn from his head. To lose his hat was like losing his life, for it contained all that made life dear to him for the time being. He betrayed no sign of trouble, however, but simply declared that he would go no further unless his hat was returned.

For answer one of the band drew a knife, and cut the last metal button from Park’s waistcoat. The others then proceeded to search his pockets, which he permitted them to do without resistance. Finding little to satisfy their rapacity, they stripped him naked. His very boots, though so sadly dilapidated as to need a part of his bridle-rein to keep the soles on, were minutely examined. Yet even at this lowest depth of ignominy his paramount thought was his work. He could endure the loss of the last shred of clothing, but to be deprived of his notes and his compass was insupportable. Seeing the latter lying on the ground, he begged to have it returned to him. In a passion one of the robbers picked up his musket and cocked it, declaring that he would shoot him dead on the spot.

Humanity, however, was not quite suppressed in the hearts of these scoundrels, for after a moment’s deliberation they returned him a shirt and a pair of trousers. As they were about to depart the one who had taken his hat jeeringly tossed it back to him. Never with more eagerness and delight did despairing mother gather to her bosom a long lost child, than did Park to his the battered remnant of a hat which contained his precious store of notes. With them there was still something worth struggling for, hopeless as his case might seem.

Never surely was man more tried. At every step he had met with new calamities, new obstacles, miseries, and dangers. Man and nature were alike in conspiracy against him. And now he had to add to his previous destitution semi-nakedness, and the loss of his horse. With hundreds of miles still before him, how could he hope to run the gauntlet of the fresh difficulties and dangers he would undoubtedly have to face? Yet even as he conjured up before his mind the perils ahead from wild beasts and evilly disposed men, from swamp and flood, from wind and rain, he began to take comfort as he recalled to mind his numerous past escapes, which were to him as proofs positive of a protecting Providence which never yet had failed him in his hour of need.

As his thoughts took a more hopeful turn, and his sanguine temperament and rooted faith in a God who overruled all things reasserted their influence, Park’s gaze fell upon a tuft of moss. Irresistibly his mind was diverted from the horrors of his position to the beauty of the lowly plant before him. As he examined with admiration its delicate conformation, the thought occurred to him, “Can that Being who planted, watered, and brought to perfection in this obscure part of the world a thing which appears of so small importance, look with unconcern upon the situation and sufferings of creatures formed after His own image? Surely not!”

The next moment the old spirit came back to him. Not yet would he succumb. While there was life in him he would struggle, and while he could struggle there was hope. Starting up, he pushed forward once more, assured in his mind that relief was at hand. Nor was he disappointed. Near a small village he found the two shepherds, in whose company he once more proceeded, till at sunset they entered Sibidulu, his destination for the time being.