Wanderings in West Africa from Liverpool to Fernando Po
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Ex Libris C. K. OGDEN WANDERINGS IN WEST AFRICA LIVERPOOL TO FERNANDO PO. : WANDERINGS IN WEST AFRICA FROM LIVERPOOL TO FEKNANDO PO. By A F.R.G.S. lUify fflap arrt Illustration. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON TINSLEY BROTHERS, 18, CATHERINE ST., STRAND. 1863. [The Eight of Translation is reserved.] : LONDON BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WEITE"RIAR*. vr 97/ TO THE TRUE FRIENDS OF AFRICA —NOT TO THE " PHILANTHROPIST " OR TO EXETER HALL- Z\)ist Images arc Enscribcfl, A HUMBLE MEMBER OF THEIR FRATERNITY. PREFACE. A NO less authority than Baron von Humboldt has declared, in his "Personal Narrative/'* that, "from every traveller beginning the account of his adven- tures by a description of Madeira and Tenerife, there remains now scarce anything untold respecting their topography." And after this dictum the great philo- sopher proceeds to evidence in propria persona, the fact that no account can be so correct but that it may be made exacter still. I was induced to put my notes into the form of pages by the consideration that however well trodden be the path of which they treat, there is no single volume that can be taken with him by the outward- bound. Each separate station of the "African Steam Ship Company" has a small literature of its own : the line however lacks the idea of a handbook. And as for correctness the " West African Pilot " himself requires revision. In writing these pages, then, it has been my object * Bohn'sed., Vol. I., p. 48. Vlll PREFACE. to lay down what a tolerably active voyager can see and do during the few hours allowed to him by the halts of the mail packet. To relieve the dryness of details I have not hesi- tated to indulge in such reflections as the subject suggested, and to sketch the types, not the indi- vidualities, of fellow-travellers. The reader will observe that I left England with a determination to investigate the subject of West African mortality. My conviction now is, that the land might be rendered not more unhealthy than the East or the West Indies, whereas it is at present deadly, a Golgotha, a Jehannum. The causes of its fearful mortality—principally the bad positions of the settlements—will be found duly indicated. In taking leave of the gentle or ungentle reader, I may be allowed to remark, that amidst an abund- ance of greater there is doubtless a crowd of minor blemishes, which those charitably disposed will attri- bute to the effects of a " single revise." West Africa, December, 1862. CONTENTS. PAGE CHAPTER I. Outward Bound .... CHAPTER II. A Day at Madeira 20 CHAPTER III. A Day at Tenerife 72 CHAPTER IY. A Day at St. Mary's, Bathurst 127 CHAPTER V. Three Days at Freetown, Sierra Leone . .19-3 CHAPTER VI. Six Hours at the Cape of Cocoa Palms . 282 — WANDERINGS IN WEST AFRICA. CHAPTER I. OUTWARD BOUND. A heart-wrench— and all is over. Unhappily I am not one of those independents who can say ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute. * * * * The day (August 24th, 186—) was a day to make the Englander leave England without a single sigh. A north of Europe nor'-wester had set in before noon, a funereal pall of rain-mist overhung the heavens of Liver- pool with black, white sea-dogs coursed and worried one another over Father Mersey's breadth of mud, the shrewish gusts tore to pieces the very strongest showers If Britannia chills with tears and sighs the hearts of her sons home-returning, at any rate, with the same tenderness she consoles them under departure. "Who ever landed at Southampton in other but the worst of weather ? "Who ever left Dover on a fine clear morning ? — 2 WANDERINGS IN WEST AFRICA. At 12.15 p.m. the crowded little steam-tender con- veyed us from the North Landing on board the A. S. S., i. e. African Steam Ship, " Blackland," Captn. English commanding. Ensued that scene of senseless hurry and confusion in which ticket-porters and passengers —the former professionally, the latter unprofessionally act principal parts. However, on this occasion, thus distinguished from many others, I did not lose either box or bag upon the floating pier, nor did my ears suffer from that which usually reminded them of the Avignon portefaix, as he was in the days of Kambling before Eailways. My connection with my beloved native land concluded with a further demand of 6/. 2s. for baggage. At 1.45 p.m., when the thirty-five huge mail bags, containing mental pabulum for some score of West- African ports, had come on board, when the two brass pop-guns had announced by the normal hang-fire and horrid ring, that Blue Peter had descended from his eminence, and when the last passenger was put in and the last stranger had put off, we steamed down the Long Reach, past the five miles of dock—the pride of the Liver — past New Brighton—not yet It pool sur mer, but treeless, barren, horrid, hideous—past the North Port and the South Eort, fine gingerbread-work for Mersey's mouth against Armstrongs, Whitworths, Blakeleys, Dahlgrens, Parrots, and canon rayes— past unpictu- resque Waterloo, most like a modern barrack, over a bar breaking, to starboard and port, heavily as the Grand Bonny's, past a bit of sandland reminding me of — —" — OUTWARD BOUND. 3 Araby the Accursed, and—tantalizing contradiction ! forth into the open sea, heading straight for the North Pole whilst bound for Tropical Africa. Now the artificial stimulus of new places and new faces has passed away, the light gear has been selected for the cabins, the heavy traps have been sent down below; dinner at 4 p.m., and at 7 p.m. tea —with desiccated milk—are "done." Then comes the first nightfall on board outward-bound, the saddest time that the veteran wanderer knows. Saadi, the Persian, one of the best of travellers, — he studied books for thirty years, did thirty of wanderjahre, and for thirty wrote and lived in retirement, —has thus alluded to the depressing influences of what I suppose may philo- sophically be explained by an absence of Light-stimulus or Od-force 11 So yearns at eve's soft tide the heart Which the wide wolds and waters part From all dear scenes to which the soul Turns, as the lodestone seeks its pole. "We cut shoTt the day by creeping to our berths, with- out even a " nightcap," and we do our best to forget ourselves and everything about us. * * * # But Joy cometh in the Morning. "We the gerontocracy rise refreshed enough. Remembering Mad. Ida Pfeiffer's saying when shown to her roosting-place "Birth do you call it ? I fear it will be the death of me,"—we have slept in the main cabin. The juveniles preferred the athwart-ship placed paint-perfumed little bunks, B 2 4 WANDERINGS IN WEST AFRICA. five-feet by two -feet, with the flimsy cushion of com- pressed horse -hair between back and board, causing aching bones; and the thin layer of compressed air between respiratory organs and deck, engendering night- mares, and chancing broken heads. We turn out at 6 a.m. —and so shall we do for many a long day—we " coffee up/' smoke the morning cigarette, and prospect the deck. The air is clear, the Tuskar lighthouse uprears its tall thin pale form from the no longer muddy wave, we peer for "the Smalls," the Saltees Islands are the last " Singhavolokan" (vide H. H. "Wilson); the " Blackland's " head turns S. W. and by W. half W. (see anything from Norie to Eaper) —we now feel that we are Africa-bound, and we go down to feed. " Hurrah, the "bell for breakfast ! Hark to the mingled din Of knife and fork and hissing chops Stewards are bringing in. The fiery skipper's pricking fast His fork into the dish, Despatching quickly his repast Of coffee, eggs, and fish. In burst the guests, and on they rush Around the jolly tar, "Who calls on semi-seasick folks To prosecute the war." And so on all day, concerning which the less said the better. Mais qv?allais-je faire dans cette gale-re ? Records of travel, I am assured, are interesting in proportion as the traveller goes forth, not a universal — OUTWARD BOUND. 5 observer, but with a definite pursuit to a small world of his own. From the "depths of my self-consciousness" I had eliminated an idea, that there is some solid sub- stantial reason for the veil of mystery which, like that of Isis, still shadows the fair proportions of "\Testern Africa. The old story of deleterious climate, when statistics prove the " sentimental squadron " to be healthier than that of the Mediterranean, was, to me, a by no means sufficient explanation. The perpetual imputation of " improper indulgences " brought against Europeans by negro and negroid supporters of the ridiculous theory, "Africa for the Africans" V Italia fara da se—was no reason for overwhelming mortality in a land which probably is as well fitted for northern constitutions as India is. Perhaps there might be a lingering of old tradition : one observes that the public estimate of a distant place always dates from the last popular book— say Mungo Park's. Possibly a rich monopoly, whose deeds are ever best done in darkness. Such, then, was my "pursuit." I have long since answered these questions to myself, and if I fail to satisfy those who do me the honour of reading me, it will not — it is said with due humility — be my own fault.