Читать книгу Great African Travellers: From Mungo Park to Livingstone and Stanley - William Henry Giles Kingston - Страница 10

The time had arrived when, as Park felt, he must either again submit to the tyrannical treatment of Ali, or perish possibly in attempting to escape. At night he got ready a bundle of clothes, consisting of two shirts and two pair of trousers, with a cloak and a few other articles; but he had not a single bead to purchase food for himself or his horse. About daybreak Johnson came and told him that the Moors were asleep. The awful crisis had now arrived; a cold perspiration stood on his brow as he thought of the dreadful alternative and reflected that one way or the other his fate must be decided in the course of the day. To deliberate was to lose the only chance of escape; so, taking up his bundle, he stepped gently over the negroes sleeping in the air, mounted his horse, bade Johnson farewell, desiring him to take particular care of the papers with which he had intrusted him, and to say that he had left him in good health, on his way to Bambarra.

He rode on, expecting every moment to be overtaken by the Moorish horsemen. Some shepherds he encountered followed, hooting and throwing stones at him. Scarcely was he out of their reach, and was again indulging in the hopes of escaping, when he heard somebody call behind him, and on looking back, he saw three Moors on horseback galloping at full speed and brandishing their weapons. To escape was vain. He stopped, and one of them, presenting his musket, told him that he must go back to Ali. The effect of this announcement was to benumb his faculties. He rode back with apparent unconcern, but he had not gone far when the Moors, stopping, ordered him to untie his bundle. Having examined the articles, they found nothing worth taking except his cloak, and one of them, pulling it off, wrapped it about himself. It had served to protect him from the rain in the day and the dews at night, and was of the greatest value to him. He earnestly begged the robbers to return it, but his petition was unheeded. As he attempted to follow them to regain his cloak, one of the robbers struck his horse over the head, and presenting his musket, ordered him to proceed no further. Finding that the sole object of the Moors had been to plunder him, he turned his horse’s head towards the east, thankful to have escaped with his life.

As soon as he was out of sight of the robbers, he struck into the woods and pushed on with all possible speed. He had at length obtained his liberty—his limbs felt light, even the desert looked pleasant. He soon recollected, however, that he had no means of procuring food, nor a prospect of finding water.

He directed his course by compass in the hopes of at length reaching some town or village in the kingdom of Bambarra.

His thirst, in consequence of the burning heat of the sun, reflected with double violence on the sand, became intense. He climbed a tree in the hopes of seeing some human habitation. Nothing appeared around but thick underwood and hillocks of white sand.

At sunset he again climbed a tree, but the same sight met his eyes. Descending, after taking the saddle off his horse’s back, he was suddenly seized with giddiness, and fell to the ground believing that the hour of death was fast approaching. He recovered, however, just as the sun was sinking behind the trees, and now, summoning up all his resolution, he determined to make another effort to prolong his existence.

He had gone on some distance further when he perceived some lightening in the north-east, a delightful sight, for it promised rain, and soon he heard the wind roaring among the bushes. He was expecting the refreshing drops, when in an instant he was covered with a cloud of sand. It continued to fly for nearly an hour; then more lightening followed and then down came a few heavy drops of rain, enabling him to quench his thirst by wringing and sucking his clothes.

He travelled on during the night, which was intensely dark, till he perceived a light ahead. Cautiously approaching it he heard the lowing of cattle and the clamorous tongues of the herdsmen, which made him suspect that it was a watering-place belonging to the Moors. Rather than run the risk of falling into their hands he retreated, but being dreadfully thirsty, and fearing the approach of the burning day, he thought it prudent to search for the wells which he expected to find at no great distance.

While thus engaged he was perceived by a woman, who screaming out, two people ran to her assistance from the neighbouring tents and passed close to him.

Happily he escaped from them and, plunging again into the woods, after proceeding a mile he heard a loud and confused noise. Great was his delight to find that it arose from the croaking of frogs, which was music to his ears.

At daybreak he reached some shallow pools full of large frogs, which so frightened his horse that he was obliged to keep them quiet by beating the water till he had drank. Having quenched his own thirst, he ascended a tree to ascertain the best course to take, when he observed a pillar of smoke about twelve miles off. Directing his course to it he reached a Foulah village belonging to Ali. Hunger compelled him to enter it, but he was denied admittance to the dooty’s house, and could not obtain even a handful of corn. Reaching, however, a humble hut at which an old motherly-looking woman sat spinning cotton, he made signs that he was hungry. She immediately laid down her distaff, and desired him in Arabic to come in, setting before him a dish of kous-kous. In return he gave her one of his pocket-handkerchiefs, and asked for a little corn for his horse, which she readily brought him.

While his horse was feeding the people collected round him, and from their conversation he discovered that they proposed seizing him and conveying him back to Ali. He therefore tied up his corn and, lest it might be supposed that he was running from the Moors, driving his horse before him he took a northerly direction, followed by the boys and girls of the town. Having got rid of his troublesome attendants he struck into the woods, where he was compelled to pass the night with his saddle for a pillow. He was awakened by three Foulahs, who, taking him for a Moor, told him that it was time to pray. Without answering them he saddled his horse and made his escape.

The next day he took shelter in the tent of a Foulah shepherd, who charitably gave him boiled corn and dates, although he was recognised as a Christian. He here purchased some corn in exchange for some brass buttons, and again took the road to Bambarra, which he resolved to follow for the night. Hearing some people approaching, he thought it prudent to hide himself, which he did in the thick brushwood. He there sat holding his horse by the nose to prevent him neighing, equally afraid of the natives without and the wild beasts within the forest. The former took their departure, and he went on till past midnight, when the croaking of frogs induced him to turn off from the road, that he and his steed might quench their thirst. Having discovered an open place with a single tree in the midst of it, he lay down for the night. He was disturbed towards morning by the sound of wolves, which made him once more mount.

On the morning of the 5th of July he reached a negro town in the confines of Bambarra. It was a small place surrounded by high walls, inhabited by a mixture of Mandingoes and Foulahs, chiefly employed in the cultivation of corn. The people were suspicious of his character, some supposing him to be an Arab, others a Moorish sultan, but the dooty, or chief magistrate, who had been at Gambia, took his part, and assured them that he was a white man. On its being reported that he was going to Sego, the capital, several women came and begged that he would enquire of Mansong what had become of their children, who had been carried off to fight.

He was allowed to take his departure without molestation, and on the 6th reached the town of Dingyee.

When he was about to depart the next morning, the landlord begged him to give him a lock of his hair, understanding that white men’s hair made a saphie, or charm, which would bestow on the possessor all their knowledge. This he willingly promised to do, but the landlord’s thirst for learning was such that he cropped nearly the whole of one side of his head, and would have done the same with the other had not Park told him that he wished to reserve some of this precious merchandise for a future occasion.

Having reached the town of Wassiboo, shortly afterwards eight fugitive Kaartan negroes, who had escaped from the tyrannical government of the Moors, arrived, on their road to offer their allegiance to the king of Bambarra. Park gladly accepted their invitation to accompany them on their road.

His horse at the end of three days, becoming completely knocked up, he dismounted and desired his companions to ride on, telling them he would follow; but they declined leaving him, declaring that lions were numerous, and that, though they would not attack a body of people, they would soon find out a single individual and destroy him. One of the party, therefore, insisted on remaining with him, and he and his friend, after he had rested, overtook their companions, passing through several of the numerous towns in this part of the country. His horse, now becoming weaker and weaker, he was obliged to drive the animal on before him the greater part of the day, so that he did not reach Geosorro till late in the evening. The dooty of the place refused to give him or his companions food, so he lay down supperless to sleep. Their host, however, relented, and about midnight he was awakened with the joyful information that victuals were prepared.

Next day his fellow-travellers, having better horses, went on ahead, and he was walking barefoot, driving his own poor animal before him, when he met a coffle, or caravan, of about seventy slaves coming from Sego. They were tied together by their necks with thongs of bullock’s hide twisted like a rope, seven slaves upon a thong, and a man with a musket between every seven. They were bound for Morocco.

On arriving at the next place he found that his companions had gone on without him, but he fell in, the following day, with two negroes going to Sego, who afforded him their company.

In the village through which he passed he was constantly taken for a Moor. The people jeered at him, laughing at his tattered and forlorn appearance. He, however, again overtook the Kaartans, who promised to introduce him to the king.

As they were riding along over some marshy ground, and he was anxiously looking around for the river which he now supposed to be near, one of his companions called out, “Geo affilli!” (“See water!”) and, looking forward, he saw with infinite pleasure the great object of his mission—the long-sought-for majestic Niger, glittering in the morning sun, as broad as the Thames at Westminster, and flowing slowly to the east. He hastened to the brink, and having drunk of the water, offered up his fervent thanks in prayer to the Great Ruler of all things for having thus far crowned his endeavours with success.

Sego, the capital of Bambarra—at which he had now arrived—consists, properly speaking, of four distinct towns: two on the north and two on the south bank of the Niger. They are surrounded by high mud walls. The houses are built of clay, of a square form with flat roofs—some of them of two stories, and many of them are whitewashed. Moorish mosques are seen in every quarter; and the streets, though narrow, are broad enough for every useful purpose in a country where wheel-carriages are unknown. It contains about thirty thousand inhabitants.

While waiting to cross the river, a messenger arrived, informing him that the king could not possibly see him until he knew what had brought him into the country, and that he must not venture to cross the river without his majesty’s permission. He was directed to pass the night in a distant village; but when he reached it, no one would admit him. He was regarded with astonishment and fear, and was obliged to sit all day without food in the shade of a tree. He fully expected to have to pass the night in the same place; but about sunset, after he had turned his horse loose, a woman, perceiving that he was weary and dejected, enquired into his situation. Casting looks of pity upon him, she took up his saddle and bridle, and told him to follow her. Having conducted him into her hut, she lighted her lamp, spread a mat on the floor and signified that he might remain there for the night. Finding that he was very hungry, she brought him a fine fish for supper. Having thus attended to the stranger, telling him that he might sleep in safety she called her women around her and desired them to resume their task of spinning cotton, in which they continued to employ themselves the greater part of the night, lightening their labours by songs, some of which had reference to their white visitor.

Several days passed, when a messenger arrived from Mansong with a bag in his hands. He told Park that it was his Majesty’s pleasure he should forthwith depart from the neighbourhood of Sego, but that the king, wishing to relieve a white man in distress, had sent him five thousand cowries. From the conversation Park had with the guide, he ascertained that Mansong would willingly have seen him, but that he was apprehensive of being unable to protect him against the blind and inveterate malice of the Moorish inhabitants. His conduct, therefore, was at once prudent and liberal.

He was the same evening conducted to a village about seven miles to the eastward, where he was well received. His guide told him that if Jenne was really the place of his destination, the journey was one of greater danger than he might suppose; for, although that town was nominally a part of the King of Bambarra’s dominions, it was in fact a city of the Moors—the chief part of the inhabitants being Bushreens, a fanatical Mahommedan sect. He heard, too, that Timbuctoo, the great object of his search, was entirely in possession of that savage and merciless people, who allow no Christian to live there. He had, however, advanced too far to think of returning with uncertain information, and he determined to proceed.

Being provided with a guide, he left the village on the morning of the 24th, travelling through a highly cultivated country, the scenery bearing a greater resemblance to that of England than he had expected to find in the middle of Africa.

The people were everywhere employed in collecting the fruit of the shea trees, from which they prepared vegetable butter. In the evening he reached the large town of Sansanding, the resort of numerous Moorish caravans from the shores of the Mediterranean. In the harbour he observed twenty large canoes, and others arrived while he was there. He was received into the house of the dooty, Counti Mamadi. Scarcely had he arrived when hundreds of people surrounded him, all speaking different dialects, several of them declaring that they had seen him in various parts of the continent. It was evident that they mistook him for somebody else. One of them, a shereef, from Suat, declared that if he refused to go to the mosque he would carry him there. He had little doubt that the Moor would have put his threat into execution had not his host interposed in his behalf. The latter said that, if he would let his guest alone for the night, in the morning he should be sent about his business. This somewhat appeased them, but even after he had retired to his hut the people climbed over the pailings to look at him.

At midnight, when the Moors had retired, Mamadi paid him a visit and earnestly desired him to write a saphie, or charm, observing, “If a Moor’s saphie is good, a white man’s must needs be better.” Park readily furnished him with one, which was in reality the Lord’s Prayer, a reed serving for a pen, charcoal and gum-water for ink and a thin board for paper.

Allowed to proceed, as he and his guide were crossing an open plain with a few scattered bushes, the guide wheeled his horse round, called loudly to him and, warning him that a lion was at hand, made signs that he should ride away. His horse was too much fatigued to do this, so they rode slowly past the bush, and he, not seeing anything himself, thought the guide had been mistaken. Suddenly the Foulah put his hand to his mouth exclaiming, “God preserve us!” To his great surprise he then perceived a large red lion a short distance from the bush, his head couched between his fore paws. Park expected that the creature would instantly spring upon him, and instinctively pulled his foot from the stirrups to throw himself on the ground, that his horse might become the victim rather than himself; but probably the lion was not hungry, for he quietly allowed the traveller to pass though fairly within his reach.

The next day his horse completely broke down, and the united strength of himself and his guide could not place the animal again upon his legs. He sat down for some time beside the worn-out associate of his adventures; but, finding him still unable to rise, he took off the saddle and bridle and placed a quantity of grass before him. While he surveyed his poor steed as he lay panting on the ground, he could not suppress the sad apprehension that he should himself in a short time lie down and perish in the same manner from fatigue and hunger. With this foreboding he left his horse, and with great reluctance followed his guide on foot along the banks of the river until he reached the small village of Kea.

Here he parted from his Foulah guide, whom he requested to look after his horse on his return, which he promised to do.

From Kea he went down the river in a canoe, and thence to Moorzan, a fishing town on the northern bank, and was then conveyed across the stream to Silla, a large town. Here, after much entreaty, the dooty allowed him to enter his house to avoid the rain, but the place was damp and he had a smart attack of fever. Worn down by sickness, exhausted with hunger, and fatigued, half-naked, without any article of value by which he could procure provisions, clothes, or lodgings, he began to reflect seriously on his situation, and was convinced by painful experience that the obstacles to his further progress were insurmountable. The dooty approved of the resolution he had arrived at of returning, and procured a fisherman to carry him across to Moorzan, whence he got back to Kea. The brother of the dooty was starting for Modiboo. He took his saddle, which he had left at Kea, intending to present it to the king of Bambarra.

Travelling along the banks of the river, the footprints of a lion quite fresh in the mud were seen. His companion, therefore, proceeded with great circumspection, insisting that Park should walk before him. This he declined doing, when his guide threw down the saddle and left him alone. He therefore continued his course along the bank, and believing that the lion was at no great distance, he became much alarmed, and took a long circuit through the bushes.

He at last arrived at Modiboo. While conversing with the dooty of the place he heard a horse neigh in one of the huts. The dooty inquired with a smile if he knew who was speaking to him. He explained himself by telling Park that his horse was still alive and somewhat recovered from his fatigue, and that he must take the animal with him.

Though tolerably well treated at the villages where he stopped, he in vain endeavoured to obtain a guide. The rains were now falling, and the country, it was supposed, would soon be completely flooded. He heard that a report had been abroad that he had come to Bambarra as a spy and that, as Mansong had not admitted him into his presence, the dooties of the different towns might treat him as they pleased.

A little before sunset of the 11th of August he reached Sansanding. Here even Mamadi, who had formerly been so kind to him, scarcely gave him a welcome, and everyone seemed to shun him. Mamadi, however, came privately to him in the evening, and told him that Mansong had despatched a canoe to bring him back, and advised him to set off from Sansanding before daybreak, cautioning him not to stop at any town near Sego. He therefore resumed his journey on the 12th, and in the afternoon reached the neighbourhood of Kabba.

As he approached, one of several people who were standing at the gate ran towards him and, taking his horse by the bridle, led him round the walls of the town and, pointing to the west, told him to go along or it would be the worse for him. He in vain represented the danger of being benighted in the woods, exposed to the inclemency of the weather and the fury of wild beasts. “Go along,” was the only answer he received. He found that these negroes had acted thus from kindness, as the king’s messengers who had come to seize him were inside the town.

Being repulsed from another village, he went on till he reached a small one somewhat out of the road, and sat down under a tree by a well. Two or three women came to draw water and, perceiving the stranger, enquired where he was going. On Park telling them to Sego, one of them went in to acquaint the dooty. In a little time the dooty sent for him, and permitted him to sleep in a large hut.

Next day he again set forward, meeting with the same inhospitable treatment as before, and having for three days to subsist on uncooked corn. He was repulsed in like manner from the gates of Taffara; and at the village of Sooha, which he reached next day, he in vain endeavoured to procure some corn from the dooty, who was sitting by the gate. While Park was speaking to the old man, he called to a slave to bring his paddle along with him, and when he brought it, told him to dig a hole in the ground, pointing to a spot at no great distance. While the slave was thus engaged, the dooty kept muttering the words—“Good-for-nothing! A real plague!” These expressions, coupled with the appearance of the pit the lad had dug, which looked much like a grave, made Park think it prudent to decamp. He had just mounted his horse, when the slave who had gone into the village returned, dragging the corpse of a boy by a leg and arm, which he threw into the pit with savage indifference, and at once began to cover it up with earth.

At sunset Park reached Koohkorro, a considerable town, and the great market for salt. Here he was received into the house of a Bambarran who, once a slave to a Moor, had obtained his freedom and was now a merchant. Finding that his guest was a Christian, he immediately desired him to write a saphie, saying that he would dress him a supper of rice if he would produce one to protect him from wicked men. Park therefore covered the board on both sides, when his landlord, wishing to have the full force of the charm, washed the writing from the board into a calabash with a little water and, having said a few prayers over it, drank the whole draught; after which, lest a single word should escape, he licked the board until it was quite dry. The dooty of the place next sent to have a saphie written—a charm to procure wealth. So highly satisfied was he with his bargain that he presented the traveller with some meal and milk, and promised him in the morning some more milk for his breakfast.

When Park had finished his supper of rice and salt, he lay down upon a bullock’s hide and slept quietly until morning, this being the first good meal and refreshing sleep he had enjoyed for a long time.

After leaving this place, having been misdirected as to his road, he reached a deep creek. Rather than turn back, he went behind his horse and pushed him headlong into the water; then, taking the bridle in his teeth, he swam to the other side. This was the third creek he had crossed in this manner since he had left Sego. His clothes were, indeed, constantly wet from the rain and dew; and the roads being very deep and full of mud, such a washing was sometimes pleasant.

At Bammakoo, which he reached on the evening of the next day, he was received into the house of a negro merchant, of whom there are many wealthy ones in the place, trading chiefly in salt. He was feasted also by a number of Moors, who spoke good Mandingo, and were more civil to him than their countrymen had before been. One of them had travelled to Rio Grande, and spoke highly of the Christians. From this man he received a present of boiled rice and milk. He also met a slave merchant who had resided some years on the Gambia, who informed him about the places which lay in his intended course to the westward. He was told that the road was impassable at this season of the year, and that there was a rapid river to cross. Having, however, no money to maintain himself, Park determined at all risks to push on, and, having obtained a singing man who said he knew the road over the hills, set off the next day. His musical conductor, however, lost the right path and, when among the hills, leaping to the top of a rock as if to look out for the road, suddenly disappeared. Park managed, however, just before sunset, to reach the romantic village of Koomah, the sole property of a Mandingo merchant and surrounded by a high wall. Though seldom visited by strangers, whenever the weary traveller did come to his residence the merchant made him welcome.

Park was soon surrounded by the harmless villagers, who had numberless questions to ask and in return for the information he gave them brought corn and milk for himself and grass for his horse, and kindled a fire in the hut where he was to sleep.

Accompanied by two shepherds as guides, he set out the next day from Koomah. The shepherds, however, walked on ahead, troubling themselves but little about him.

The country was very rough, and the declivity so great that a false step would have caused him and his horse to be dashed to pieces.

As he was riding on, the shepherds being about a quarter of a mile before him, he heard a loud screaming as from a person in great distress. Supposing that a lion had taken off one of the shepherds, he hurried on to ascertain what had happened. The noise had ceased, and in a short time he perceived one of the shepherds lying among the long grass near the road, and concluded that the man was dead; but when he came close to him the shepherd whispered to him to stop, telling him that a party of armed men had seized upon his companion and shot two arrows at him. While considering what to do, he saw at a little distance a man sitting upon the stem of a tree, and also the heads of six or seven more who were crouching down among the grass, with muskets in their hands. It being impossible to escape, he rode forward towards them, hoping that they were elephant hunters. By way of opening the conversation he inquired if they had shot anything; but in answer one of them ordered him to dismount, and then, as if recollecting himself, waved with his hand as a sign that Park might proceed. He had ridden some way when they shouted to him again to stop, and told him that the King of the Foulahs had sent them to carry him to Fooladoo. Without hesitating, Park turned and followed them.

They had reached a dark part of the wood when one of them observed in the Mandingo language, “This place will do,” and immediately snatched his hat from his head. Feeling that resistance was useless, he allowed them to proceed till they had stripped him quite naked. While they were examining their plunder, Park begged them to return his pocket compass; but, on his pointing to it as it lay on the ground, one of the banditti cocked his musket, swearing that he would shoot him if he presumed to take it. After this some of them went away with his horse, and the remainder stood considering whether they should leave him quite naked or allow him something to shelter him from the sun. Humanity at last prevailed, and they returned the worst of his two shirts and a pair of trousers; one of them also threw back his hat, in the crown of which he kept his memorandums—probably the reason why they did not wish to keep it.

Here he was in the midst of a vast wilderness in the depth of the rainy season, naked and alone, and surrounded by savage animals and men still more savage, five hundred miles from the nearest European settlement. His spirits began to fail, but he reflected that no human prudence could possibly have averted his present sufferings, and that, though a stranger in a strange land, he was still under the protecting eye of that Providence who has condescended to call Himself the stranger’s friend. At this moment the extreme beauty of a small moss in fructification caught his eye. Though the whole plant was not much larger than the top of one of his fingers, he could not contemplate the delicate conformation of its roots, leaves, and capsules without admiration. “Can that Being,” he thought, “who brought this plant to perfection look with unconcern upon the situation and sufferings of creatures formed after his own image? Surely not.” He started up and, disregarding both hunger and fatigue, travelled forward, assured that relief was at hand.

In a short time he overtook the two shepherds who had come with him from Koomah. They were greatly surprised to see him, observing that they never doubted that the Foulahs had murdered him. In their company he arrived at Sibidooloo, the frontier town of the kingdom of Manding. The chief man in the place, called Mansa, received him most kindly, and when Park related how he had been robbed of his horse and apparel, he observed, with an indignant air, “Sit down. You shall have everything restored to you—I have sworn it.” He at once gave directions to his people to search for the robbers. Park was conducted into a hut, where he was provided with food, and a crowd of people assembled, all of whom commiserated his misfortunes and vented imprecations against the Foulahs.

As there was a great scarcity of provisions in the place, Park, after spending two days there, begged Mansa to allow him to depart. He gave him permission to do so, provided he would remain at a town called Wanda for a few days, until he received some account of his horse and goods.

He took his departure accordingly on the morning of the 28th, and reached Wanda about noon of the 30th.

The head man of the place, who was a Mahommedan, acted not only as chief magistrate, but as schoolmaster. He kept his school in an open shed, where the traveller was desired to take up his lodgings. Park was very anxious for his clothes, as those he had on were completely worn-out, his shirt being like a piece of muslin and dirty in the extreme.

He here spent nine days suffering much from fever. On the 6th two people arrived from Sibidooloo, bringing his horse and clothes, but his pocket compass, greatly to his vexation, was broken to pieces.

Every day he observed several women come to the house to receive a certain quantity of corn. Knowing how valuable this article was at the present juncture, he enquired of his host whether he maintained these poor women from pure bounty or expected a return when the harvest should be gathered in.

“Observe that boy,” said he, pointing to a fine child about five years of age. “His mother has sold him to me for forty days’ provisions for herself and the rest of her family. I have bought another boy in the same manner.”

Sick as he was, Park thought it necessary to take his leave of his hospitable landlord, to whom he presented his horse as the only recompense he could make, desiring him to convey his saddle and bridle as a present to Mansa of Sibidooloo. As he was about to set out, his host begged him to accept his spear as a token of remembrance and a leather bag to contain his clothes. Having converted his half-boots into sandals, he travelled with more ease.

Although the people were suffering great distress from the failure of the crops, he was in general most hospitably treated. His landlord at Kinyeto, observing that he had hurt his ankle, insisted on his remaining several days till he could walk with the help of a staff.

Notwithstanding suffering from fever and exposed to constant rain, he continued his journey, narrowly escaping being detained at the town of Mansia by the inhospitable chief, who insisted on being paid for the small amount of food he had provided.

On September 16th he reached the town of Kamalia. He was here conducted to the house of a Bushreen, Kafa Taura. He was collecting a caravan of slaves to convey to the European settlements on the Gambia, as soon as the rains should be over. He found Kafa seated in his house surrounded by several slatees who proposed joining the caravan. He was reading to them from an Arabic book, and enquired if his guest understood it. On being answered in the negative, he desired one of the slatees to fetch a curious little book which had been brought from the west country. It proved to be a book of Common Prayer, and Kafa expressed great joy on hearing that Park could read it, for some of the slatees, observing the colour of his skin, now become yellow from sickness, suspected that he was an Arab in disguise. Kafa, however, had now no doubt concerning him, and kindly promised him every assistance in his power.

Park was here laid up completely by fever, but Kafa, who had provided a quiet hut for his accomodation, advised him to remain within it, assuring him that if he did not walk out in the wet he would soon be well.

He passed five weeks in a gloomy and solitary manner, seldom visited by any person except his benevolent landlord, who came daily to enquire about his health.

When the rains became less frequent the country began to grow dry and the fever left him, but in so debilitated condition that it was with difficulty he could crawl with his mat to the shade of a tamarind tree at a short distance, there to enjoy the refreshing smell of the corn-fields. The benevolent and simple manners of the negroes, and the perusal of Kafa’s little volume greatly contributed to his restoration.

In the beginning of December, Kafa began to make arrangements for his journey, and to complete the purchase of his slaves.

As he had to be absent about his affairs for a month, Park was left during the time to the care of a good old Bushreen, who acted as schoolmaster to the younger people of Kamalia.

The long-wished-for day of the departure of the caravan, the 19th of April, at length arrived, and the irons being removed from the slaves, the slatees assembled at the door of Kafa’s house, where the bundles were all tied up, and everyone had his load assigned him.

Kafa had twenty-seven slaves for sale, but eight others afterwards joined them, making in all thirty-five. The schoolmaster who was on his return to Woradoo, the place of his nativity, took with him eight of his scholars. Altogether, the come numbered seventy-three persons.

The caravan was followed for about half a mile by most of the inhabitants of Kamalia; and when they had arrived at the top of a hill, from whence they had a view of the town, they were all ordered to sit down—those belonging to the coffle with their faces towards the west, and the townspeople with theirs towards Kamalia. The schoolmaster, with two of the principal slatees, having taken their places between the two parties, pronounced a solemn prayer, after which they walked three times round the coffle, making impressions in the ground with the ends of their spears, and muttering something by way of a charm. When this ceremony was ended, all the people belonging to the coffle sprang up and, without taking a formal farewell of their friends, set forward.

Another ceremony was performed when the party stopped to dine on the road. Before commencing the meal, when each person was seated with their quotas arranged before him in small gourd shells, the schoolmaster offered up a short prayer that God and the holy prophet might preserve them from robbers and all bad people, that their provisions might never fail nor their limbs become fatigued.

After stopping at the town of Kenytakooro till the 22nd of April, the coffle commenced the journey through the Jallonka wilderness. The country was very beautiful and abounded with birds and deer; but so anxious were they to push on, that they made fully thirty miles that day. Fatigued as they were, they were frequently disturbed in the night by the howling of wild beasts and the bites of ants.

On setting out in the morning Nealee, one of Kafa’s female slaves refused to drink the gruel offered her. The country was extremely wild and rocky, and Park began to fear that he should be unable to keep up with the party. Others, however, suffered more than he did. The poor female slave began to lag behind; and, complaining dreadfully of pains in her legs, her load was taken from her and given to another, and she was ordered to keep in front of the coffle.

As the party were resting near a rivulet a hive of bees was discovered in a hollow tree, and some of the people were proceeding to obtain the honey, when an enormous swarm flew out, and, attacking every one, made them fly in every direction. Park being the first to take alarm, was the only person who escaped with impunity. The slaves had, however, left their bundles behind them, and to obtain them it was necessary to set the grass on fire to the east of the hive, when the wind driving the flames along, the men pushed through the smoke and recovered their bundles. They also brought with them poor Nealee, whom they found lying by the rivulet stung in the most dreadful manner. On her refusing to proceed further, she was cruelly beaten with a whip, when, suddenly starting up, she walked for four or five hours; she then made an attempt to run away, but, from weakness, fell to the ground. Though unable to rise, the whip was a second time applied, when Kafa ordered that she should be placed on an ass. Unable to sit on it, she was carried afterwards on a litter by two slaves.

The unfortunate slaves, who had travelled all day in the hot sun with loads on their heads, were dreadfully fatigued; and some of them began to snap their fingers—a sure sign, among negroes, of desperation. They were, therefore, put in irons, and kept apart from each other. Next day poor Nealee was again placed on the ass; but unable to hold herself on, frequently fell to the ground. At length the cry arose of—“Kang-tegi!” (“Cut her throat!”) As Park did not wish to see this horrible operation performed, he went on ahead; but soon afterwards he was overtaken by one of Kafa’s domestic slaves with poor Nealee’s garment on the end of a bow. On making inquiries of the man, he replied that Kafa and the schoolmaster would not consent to her being killed, but had left her on the road, where probably she was soon devoured by wild animals.

Such is one example of the cruel treatment received by the unhappy slaves. The old schoolmaster, however, was so affected, that he fasted the whole of the ensuing day.

The party now travelled on rapidly, everyone being apprehensive that he might otherwise meet with the fate of poor Nealee.

The coffle had still many dangers to encounter. Receiving information that two hundred Jallonkas were lying in wait to plunder them, they altered their course and travelled with great secrecy until midnight, when they entered the town of Koba. Here they remained some days to escape the Jallonkas.

The next town they reached, Malacotta, was the birthplace of the schoolmaster, whose brother came out to meet him. The interview was very natural and affecting. They fell on each other’s neck, and it was some time before either of them could speak. The schoolmaster then turning, pointed to Kafa, saying, “This is the man who has been my father in Manding. I would have pointed him out sooner to you, but my heart was too full.”

They were now in the country of friends, and were well received at each of the towns they entered.

Park, however, witnessed numerous instances of the sad effects of the slave trade. A singing man, the master of one of the slaves who had travelled for some time with great difficulty, and was found unable to proceed further, proposed to exchange him for a young slave girl belonging to one of the townspeople. The poor girl was ignorant of her fate until the bundles were all laid up in the morning, and the coffle ready to depart, when, coming with some of the other young women to see the coffle set out, her master took her by the hand and delivered her to the singing man. Never was a face of serenity more suddenly changed into one of the deepest distress; the terror she manifested on having the load put on her head and the rope round her neck, and the sorrow with which she bid adieu to her companions, were truly affecting. Notwithstanding the treatment which the slaves received, they had hearts which could feel for the white stranger amidst their infinitely greater sufferings, and they frequently of their own accord brought water to quench his thirst, and at night collected branches and leaves for his bed, during that weary journey of more than five hundred British miles.

Knowing that the greater number were doomed to a life of slavery in a foreign land, he could not part from them without feeling much emotion.

At last Pisania was reached, and Park was warmly welcomed as one risen from the dead by the Mr. Ainsleys and Dr. Laidley. They had heard that the Moors had murdered him as they had murdered Major Haughton. He learned with great sorrow that neither of his two attendants, Johnson and Demba, had returned, and that nothing was known of them. Park gave double the amount he had promised to Kafa, and sent a present also to the good old schoolmaster at Malacotta. Kafa, who had never before heard English spoken, listened with great attention to Park, when conversing with his friends. His astonishment at the various articles of furniture in the houses was very great; but it was still greater when he saw Mr. Ainsley’s schooner lying in the river. He could not comprehend the use of the masts and sails, or conceive how so large a body could be moved by the wind. He was frequently heard to exclaim, with a sigh: “Ah! black men are nothing.”

After waiting at Pisania some time, finding no vessel likely to sail direct for England, he took his passage on board a slave vessel bound for South Carolina. She, however, meeting with bad weather, put into Antigua, and from thence he sailed in an English packet, and arrived at Falmouth on the 22nd of December, having been from England about two years and seven months.