On the 16th of March he reached Sokoto, the capital of the new Fulah Empire, and there was hospitably received by Bello, son and successor of the founder. From Sokoto he hoped to make his way to Yauri and Nupé, to clear up as far as possible the question of the course of the Niger. At first everything looked favourable for his plans, but gradually his hopes vanished, as every one set about dissuading him from attempting the journey.

At last the Sultan himself withdrew his promise of protection, on the plea of excessive danger to his guest. In the face of such a decided veto it was useless to attempt to proceed, though for several weary weeks Clapperton waited on in the hope that something would turn up which would open a way for him. No change for the better occurred, however, and at length he took leave of Sultan Bello, and returned to Bornu.

On September 3rd a caravan having been got together, the homeward journey was commenced.

In the course of the next four months the Sahara was safely recrossed, and Tripoli re-entered on the 26th January, the travellers having been absent nearly three years on their arduous undertaking.

This must be considered the most successful African expedition up to that period—successful alike in its scientific results and in the extent of country explored for the first time. Once for all it settled the question as to the direction in which the mouth of the Niger must be looked for. Certainly it neither flowed east, nor did it end in any known desert or lake. Yet curiously enough, to judge from the travellers’ maps, they were still some way behind M‘Queen in their knowledge of the general geography of the great eastern tributary of the Niger. Through a misunderstanding on Clapperton’s part as to the direction of the Benué, the River Shari was represented as draining its waters from the west instead of from the south and east. But perhaps the most valuable result of the expedition was, that for the first time form and coherence were given to the geography of the Arab writers and traders, and exact information collected regarding the remarkable kingdoms forming the Central Sudan.

CHAPTER XXVII.
THE TERMINATION OF THE NIGER—(Continued).

Among the many valuable results arising from Clapperton and Denham’s expedition, not the least important was the great encouragement it gave to renewed enterprise. With the successes of these two explorers the tide of evil fortune seemed to have turned, and they had shown that death or failure did not necessarily meet whomsoever had the temerity to seek to unlock the secrets of Ethiopia.

Clapperton, moreover, had brought back with him from Sokoto the most friendly messages from Bello, the Sultan, expressive of his desire for direct intercourse with the British, and pointing out how that intercourse might best be established by way of the Niger and the West Coast, to which, he asserted, his dominions extended. To take advantage of this more hopeful state of affairs, the British Government organised another expedition, once more with the object of settling the vexed question of the Niger termination, and at the same time opening up a way to the rich provinces of Sokoto, Bornu, &c.

Clapperton was again selected as leader, and with him were associated Captain Pearce and Surgeon Morrison.

The Gulf of Benin was chosen as the landing point, the reason being that there they hoped to find the entrance to the river and follow it to Bussa. On their arrival, however, it was deemed advisable not to lose time and health among the interminable creeks and fatal mangrove swamps known to distinguish the probable delta of the Niger. It was known that Haussa caravans were in the habit of annually descending overland to the coast at Badagry, a point a few miles to the west of what is now known as Lagos. With much wisdom and common sense Clapperton and his companions therefore elected to penetrate to the Niger by this route, and after completing their business with Sokoto, to descend the river in canoes.

On the 7th December 1825 the party left the coast. Hardly, however, had they got beyond earshot of the Atlantic rollers, when it seemed as if the fate which had befallen so many earlier ventures was about to overtake Clapperton’s also. Through imprudently sleeping in the open air, they were all attacked by fever. Undismayed and unsubdued, they nevertheless pushed on, staggering forward as best they might. But there were limits to their defiance of disease. Morrison gave in first, and turning to retrace his way to the coast, died on the road. Captain Pearce was the next victim, and he, like the soldier who falls in battle with his face to the foe, dropped on the road, struggling onward to the last.

Though now deprived of both his friends, Clapperton was not yet absolutely alone. He had with him an English servant named Richard Lander, who, with a spirit worthy of such a master, faced all the perils and hardships of the route. Happily, however, by the end of the month the deadly coast belt was safely passed, and healthier lands lay before them. They entered the populous country of Yoruba, with its teeming population, its well cultivated fields, enormous towns, and general air of prosperity. Through Yoruba they passed in a semi-triumphal procession, with no greater trouble to face than the anxiety of the king to keep the white men in his own capital, or the siren wiles of the widow Zuma, who, with her colossal charms, sought to woo them from the path of danger and toil to the flower-strewn haunts of love and ease. Heedless alike, however, of kingly favours and full-fed charms—the widow being fat and twenty—Clapperton held on his way, as also did Lander, who was as little to be seduced from his master’s side as his master from the path of duty.

Clapperton had hoped to reach the Niger at Nupé, but news of war and bloodshed in that region caused him to deviate from his intended route and strike the great river somewhat higher up. As the fates would have it, he reached the Niger at the very point where Park had ended at once his voyage and his career. Clapperton’s reception seemed to belie the story of Amadi Fatuma as to the manner of Park’s death, but a little investigation proved beyond a doubt the truth of its chief particulars. The natives had attacked him under a misconception as to his nationality, and every one spoke with regret of the unhappy catastrophe. The place was pointed out where the boat and crew were lost.

At this point the river is divided into three channels, none more than twenty yards broad when the water is low. The left branch is the only safe one for canoes, the other two being broken up by rocks into dangerous whirlpools and rapids. Bussa itself stands on an island about three miles long by one and a half broad.

From Bussa, Clapperton passed through Nupé and across the Haussa States to Kano. Thence he proceeded to join Bello at Sokoto. He arrived, however, at an unfortunate time. Civil war and rebellion were rife on all hands, and it seemed as if the great Fulah Empire was about to fall to pieces as quickly as it had been built up. Bello, in consequence, was in a fit state to listen to all sorts of insinuations as to the causes which brought the Europeans into his country, and the results that were likely to follow. Accordingly, Clapperton’s reception was anything but friendly, and under the worries consequent on his treatment, and the fevers by which he was attacked, he at length succumbed on the 13th April 1827.

Of the members of the expedition there now remained only Richard Lander, who had attached himself to Clapperton with such remarkable fidelity. Three courses were open to him—to return to England by way of the desert and Tripoli, to go back by the way he had come, or thirdly, to attempt to carry out his late master’s intention of tracing the Niger to its mouth. Lander was a man of no ordinary intelligence and character, notwithstanding his subordinate position in life, and as if Clapperton’s mantle had fallen on him, he elected to do what he could to complete the unfinished work.

With this object in view he returned to Kano from Sokoto, and thence started south to reach the Niger, being under the belief that the great river in that direction was the object of his search—while in reality it was another.

In this, however, he failed. He had almost reached the great town of Yakoba, when his progress was stopped, and he was compelled to return to Kano. Thence he made his way back as he had come through Yoruba to Badagry, which he reached on the 21st November 1827.

The unhappy issue of Clapperton’s second expedition somewhat chilled African enterprise for the time being. Our knowledge of the course and termination of the Niger was left exactly where it had been before—though it was made more and more clear that from Bussa it flowed south to Benin. Still the river seemed to lie under some charm fatal to whomsoever should brave it and seek to lift the veil.

The Government began to lose hope, or to conclude that the deadly nature of the climate rendered the discovery of the mouth of the Niger one only of geographical importance. But though they wavered and felt disposed to give up the task, there were still plenty of volunteers eager to make one more attempt.

No matter what the dangers were, Africa had a strange power of fascination which irresistibly drew men under its influence; not those merely who had never set foot on its deadly shore, and who consequently could not fully realise all that travel in Africa meant, but men who had seen their companions die beside them on the road, struck down by disease or the weapon of the savage, and who had themselves known what it was to be at death’s door. It is a species of mesmeric influence this of African travel, irresistibly compelling him who has once come beneath its spell to return again and again, even though at last it be to his death.

Lander was no exception to the rule. He went out to Africa knowing nothing, and probably caring less, for the objects of his master’s expedition. But he was of the right sort to come beneath the fatal charm; and with the death of his master he felt himself consecrated to the work of exploration. In this spirit he returned to England with Clapperton’s journal, only to offer himself for one more effort to complete the task the death of the writer had left unfinished. Such an offer the Government could not very well refuse, though the terms promised by them showed that they had but little faith in a favourable outcome.

But Lander was no longer the servant. African travel had ennobled him and placed him in the roll of her knight-errantry. He knew no sordid motives, asked no pay or other remuneration. Success should be his only reward. His enthusiasm infected his brother John with a like spirit, and caused him to throw in his fortunes with him.

The 22nd March 1830 saw the gallant fellows landed at Badagry. They followed practically the same route as Clapperton’s expedition to Eyeo, from which they were compelled to take a circuitous northerly course to the Niger at Bussa, which they reached in three months from the coast.

After having paid a visit to the King of Yauri some distance up the river, preparations were commenced for the voyage down to the ocean. With difficulty two canoes were obtained, but at length, on the 20th September, everything was ready for departure. Before pushing clear of the land, the Landers “humbly thanked the Almighty for past deliverances, and fervently prayed that He would always be with us and crown our enterprise with success.” Having thus placed themselves under Divine protection, the word was given to push off, and away the canoes glided towards their uncertain bourne.

The first part of the voyage lay through a narrow valley bounded by metamorphic hills, through which the river wound its way in broad curving reaches, broken up at times by inhabited islands, which rose precipitously from the dark waters, and gave variety to the scene. Majestic trees lined the banks, and lent their own peculiar charm to the panoramic landscape, while village and cultivated field spoke of industrious inhabitants. From the latter they had nothing to fear—on the contrary, the travellers were everywhere received hospitably, and sent on their way with prayers for their safety and food for their wants. A more instant danger lay in the numerous rocks which thrust their crests above the water, or more treacherously lay hid beneath, requiring constant watchfulness.

Soon this rocky section was passed, and the district of Nupé entered.

Here the river, emerging from the metamorphic hills, turns eastward and widens, flowing through a broad valley whose precipitous sides form the escarpments of a low sandstone plateau-land. This section is scantily inhabited and sparsely wooded, on account of the fact that while the river is in flood, the great plains which form the bottom of the valley are submerged, and the river assumes the aspect of a lake.

Sixty miles further down is a picturesque range of mountains—now called Rennell’s—shortly after passing which comes the town of Egga. From thence the broad valley begins to narrow, and the river to wind in sharp curves through the low sandstone gorges, till, turning sharply to the south, it enters a lake-like expanse, where the Landers found that a large tributary from the east, which they conjectured to be the Tchadda or Benué, joined the main stream. This was the river which Clapperton had confounded with the Shari, though M‘Queen had worked out its true relationship to the Niger system.

Immediately beyond the point of junction, the Niger leaves the sandstone plateau and passes through a series of bold picturesque mountains by a narrow gorge, guarded on either side by isolated peaks and table-topped mountains, which frown over the waters in defiant, barren ruggedness. As if to stop all ingress or egress, small islands and hidden rocks rise in mid-stream, round which the swift currents of the contracted river angrily sweep and swirl.

This natural gateway passed, the river expands again into majestic reaches, sunning its full bosom under the tropic sun, unbroken by rock or island. The mountains fall into gentle undulations, and these again into a limitless, flat expanse, but little raised above the level of the river. With every mile the vegetation grows more and more luxuriant, more and more prodigal, till the primeval forest lies before the traveller in all its height and depth and solemnity. Never before had the brothers Lander seen such trees, such a profusion of shrubs, such a tangle of varied creepers.

Here and there villages, charmingly adorned with nodding palms, peeped cosily from their bosky corners in the dark protecting forest. Near the houses stood or lolled groups of scantily clothed natives, passing the lazy hours away in dreamy idleness, as became the lords of creation. Children, naked as the day they were born, gambolled in the river like frogs; and women, ever at work, busied themselves with domestic cares. At some places battle had been given to the rank luxuriance of nature, and small clearings made in the forest for the raising of yams, beans, or sugar-canes.

Not least inviting in the scene was the Niger itself. Now it spread before the voyagers like a beautiful lake, ringed with fringing festooned trees, and flashing brilliantly under the rays of the tropic sun. Again, far ahead, the forest frame opened and displayed the serpentine course of the silvery river, edged with yellow banks of sand. Canoes were seen gliding swiftly down stream, or with more laborious paddling were forced upward against the current. On the banks left by the falling waters, crocodiles disposed their repulsive length like rotting logs of wood, while in the deeper pools the hippos snorted defiance. Waterfowl in great numbers skimmed along the surface of the water, fished in the shallows, or rested on terra firma.

The scene was arcadian and fascinating seen from the river. A closer acquaintance did not enhance its attractiveness. The voyagers were now among a people far different from those above the confluence of the Niger and the Benué (Tchadda). Here were only Pagan savages, steeped in the lowest barbarism, and ruled by the grossest superstition. Murder and plunder were in congenial union with fetishism and cannibalism, and hospitality was unknown. Only by force could Lander get his men to venture into this dangerous region. That their fears were not mere fancies was speedily proved on the very first occasion of landing, and again later on they only escaped utter destruction, to fall into semi-captivity to a party of men in large canoes who were up river ready to trade with the strong, and to attack and plunder the weak.

The travellers now found themselves among people who came from near the sea, and who had not only heard of, but had actually traded with Europeans. It was therefore in no despondent mood that they submitted to their fate, and proceeded on their way, the captives of the Ibo.

Soon it was clear that the delta of the river had been reached. From being a united volume of water it began to break up into numerous branches, running in all directions. At the apex of the delta the land was dry, and clad with palm oil groves and silk cotton trees. Gradually, however, these disappeared, and as the dry land gave place to hybrid swamp, the mangrove asserted its ownership. Nature then showed as repulsive an aspect as is to be met with in any other region on the face of the globe—what was swamp when the tide was out resembling a submerged forest when the tide was in, and both then and at all other times, reeking with pestilential vapours from the slimy mud oozing from between the octopus-like roots of the mangrove.

In passing through this foul region the travellers had little reason to wonder that no one had ever ventured to explore the labyrinthine creeks and river branches which penetrated the mangrove in all directions, but seemed to lead to nowhere in particular.

On the 24th November 1830 the dull thunder of the Atlantic rollers breaking on the shore came like sweetest music to the travellers’ ears, growling a gruff but hearty welcome, and soon the sea itself lay before them—its cool healthy breezes fanning them with delicious touch, its gleaming limitless expanse fair as a glimpse of heaven.

The Niger mystery was solved at last, and the river portals thrown wide open to the world, never again to be closed.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
FILLING UP THE DETAILS.

While Clapperton and Lander were thus bringing the work of Park to a successful conclusion, and proving the accuracy of M‘Queen’s geography of the Niger basin, there were others at work in the region which the labours and death of their great pioneer had made classic ground. Major Laing, in the course of a Government mission, had travelled from Sierra Leone to Falaba, in the country of Sulima, and ascertained that the Niger took its rise in the Highlands of Kurauka, some 70 miles south-west of Falaba, and not more than 150 miles east of Sierra Leone. The river itself he was prevented from reaching, but none the less did he come under the irresistible influence of its fascination.

More than ever had Timbuktu and the Niger become names to conjure with, as well as to infect men with a species of reckless self-sacrifice that no amount of past experience, prudence, or common sense could dispel. As in the case of Lander, and others of his predecessors, having once tasted the bitter-sweet of African exploration, there could be no rest for Major Laing until he had gathered again the magic fruit. Accordingly, after an interval of three years, he once more set forth, determined to carry his cherished dreams into realisation.

Timbuktu and the Upper Niger were the goals of his journey. Like Denham and Clapperton, he took Tripoli as his starting-point. Thence he passed south-west to Ghadamis and the oasis of Twat. Between the latter and Timbuktu lay the wild wastes of the Sahara—never trodden by man without extreme risk of encounter with plunder and bloodshed-loving nomads, and death from thirst or privation. Even these factors of an African journey had their wild attraction for men of Laing’s temperament, adding a sauce piquante, as it were, to the otherwise monotonous march and daily routine of worry and privation. To such, too, the frowning immensity of the Sahara—the frightful desolation which marks its every feature—and the flaming sun and lurid heavens that hang above it, have elements which strike them with the profoundest feelings of awe, and leave an indelible impress on their minds.

For sixteen days after leaving Twat, Laing underwent all these sensations in their most striking form; and that his experiences of desert travel might be complete, he was attacked at night by a party of Tuareg marauders, and left for dead, with no less than twenty-four wounds. Thanks, however, to the secret elixir of heroic minds and the soundness of his constitution, he miraculously recovered, and undismayed, continued his way to Timbuktu, which was reached on the 18th August 1826.

Laing was the first European who had ever entered that historic city, which for four centuries had been the loadstone of kings, merchants, and savants. He arrived in an unhappy hour. Only a short time before the first waves of the approaching tide of Fulah influence had entered the region of the Upper Niger. Already Timbuktu had felt its strange power, though resenting the political position usurped by the ministers of the new revival.

For a month Laing was allowed to remain unmolested. Then he was ordered to leave the city of the Faithful. There was no resisting the mandate, and he passed forth on the 22nd September, only to be foully murdered two days later by the people who had undertaken to escort him across the desert. With him unfortunately perished the records of his observations and inquiries.

Two years later, Caillé, a somewhat illiterate, though persevering and intrepid Frenchman, entered the city from which Laing had been driven forth. Years before, this young explorer, in his far-off French home, had heard the echoes of African enterprise. Inflamed with the romantic story, he had seen by the blank maps of the continent how much there was to be done, and what fame there was to be acquired by him who could make his mark on those still virgin sheets. To be an African traveller became thenceforth the object of his life. For years he dreamed of and prepared himself for the work. But it was one thing to dream of—one thing even to reach the threshold of new lands—and quite another to penetrate them, as he soon found. Time after time his hopes, when almost at the point of realisation, were rudely dashed to the ground; but uncrushed, he waited his time and opportunity, though without private means, and conscious that the ears of the wealthy and the powerful were deaf to his schemes and representations.

But while Caillé dreamed and petitioned he also worked. As a subordinate official under the Government of Sierra Leone, he was enabled by dint of economy and industry to save the sum of £80. To him this slender sum appeared the “open sesame” of fame and fortune. It was the instrument whereby he should open the oyster shell, and gain the priceless pearl within.

On the 19th April 1827, Caillé left Kakundy, on the River Nunez, and midway between Sierra Leone and the Gambia, in the company of a small caravan of Mandingoes. Travelling east, he crossed the country of Futa Jallon, through which northward ran the upper tributaries of the Senegal, and eastward those of the Niger. The latter river was reached at Kurusa, in the district of Kankan, and was found to be even there a fine stream from eight to ten feet deep.

Having crossed the Niger, he continued east to the country of Wasulu, a well cultivated and thickly inhabited region. Thence he travelled north-east, till at length he again reached the banks of the Niger, a short distance to the west of Jenné. This town he was the first European to enter, though Park had seen it on his last journey.

From Jenné, Caillé sailed down the Niger in a rudely built vessel of considerable dimensions to Kabara, the port of Timbuktu, whence he proceeded on horseback to the city itself.

The aspect of Timbuktu in nowise realised the glowing anticipations of the traveller. Instead of the wealthy and powerful city, touched with the glamour of the shining orient, which he had been taught to expect, there lay before him only a collection of miserable mud buildings, among which rose several mosques, looking imposing only in comparison with the rude huts around them. To the north-east and south spread the immensity of the great desert as one vast plain of burning, repellent sands, over which the silence of death brooded, except where pariah dogs or loathsome vultures feasted on the carrion or offal thrown out of the town. Such was the place in which Commerce had established her Central African emporium, and gathered together the trading veins and arteries which ramified more or less throughout the whole of North-eastern Africa. Here, too, amid these dreary wastes, Moslem learning had made her seat; and here the religion of Islam had found an abiding centre from which to radiate its influence into the most barbarous depths of negro Africa.

Seen thus in relation to its surroundings, its position, and its functions, the mud huts and rudely built mosques which compose it acquire a tinge of the sublime, and strike the imagination more even than the stupendous wonders of a London or a Paris.

For a fortnight Caillé—secure in his disguise—remained in Timbuktu, after which he set forth with a caravan to cross the desert to Morocco. Along no other part of the Sahara does the desert appear in such a terror-striking aspect. Through one tract the caravan had to travel with all possible expedition for ten days, not a drop of water being obtainable. The privations endured were indescribable, men and animals alike being reduced to the direst extremity before water was reached and their tortures assuaged. Further north similar experiences awaited them, till the caravan arrived at the River Dra. Thence the march was performed with comparative comfort by way of Tafilet and the Atlas to Fez and Tangier, where Caillé arrived on the 18th August 1828.

With Lander’s descent of the Niger from Bussa to the sea, the course of Niger enterprise received a new development and impetus. The glowing accounts brought back by its explorers of the rich lands and powerful civilised kingdoms through which it flowed found eager hearers in England; and now that an entrance had been found by which the heart of these promising regions could be reached, such hearers were not slow to act and test in a practical fashion the commercial value of the great waterway.

In this new movement Macgregor Laird, of Liverpool, was the leading spirit. Under his instructions two steamers were specially constructed for the work. Laird himself took command, and with him were associated Lander, and Lieutenant Allen of the navy, with Dr. Briggs and Mr. Oldfield as medical attendants.

Hardly had the party entered the Nun branch of the river, in August 1832, when the malaria commenced its ravages, causing the death of a captain and two seamen. The first business of the expedition was to find a suitable navigable channel among the many bewildering branches, creeks, and backwaters which spread a labyrinthine network over the delta, whose mangrove swamps were “uninviting when descried, repulsive when approached, dangerous when examined, and horrible and loathsome when their qualities and their inhabitants were known.” Here the air reeked with the essence of poisonous odours—damp, clammy, and deadly; and the nights were made hideous by the never-ceasing attacks of clouds of mosquitoes and sandflies.

For six weeks Laird was engaged in his exploration of the delta, with the result that eighteen men succumbed to fever. For a time the expedition threatened to end in the death of the entire party, hardly one escaping the dire effects of the malaria. But Laird and his companions were men not easily discouraged or defeated, and at length they got away from the deadly area, and reached the undivided river and healthier upper regions. It was like an escape from a loathsome purgatory to an earthly paradise, when the party sailed into the open reaches of the noble stream, barred in by tropic forest and swept by cooling breezes. Viewed commercially,however, the prospect proved somewhat unsatisfactory, and did not correspond with the glowing hopes with which the party had left England. There was no thought, however, of giving way to the first feeling of disappointment, and in the belief that matters would improve once beyond the barbarous zone, they continued their way up the river. Unfortunately, they had chosen the wrong time of the year to make the ascent. Already the river was falling. More than once the larger of the two steamers grounded on sand-banks, and finally had to be laid up till the rising of the waters should set in once more. Attempts to reach Rabba signally failed, though Laird ascended the Benué some distance in a boat.

In the following season Oldfield and Lander were more successful. The Benué was ascended to a distance of 104 miles before they were compelled to return from want of supplies. On the Main Niger they were also more fortunate than in the previous year. Rabba was safely reached, and found to contain a population little short of 40,000, being at that time the capital of Nupé.

Beyond Rabba it was found impossible to proceed, and it was deemed advisable to return to the coast, to recruit and prepare for another attempt to establish a trade in the river.

This new venture, however, ended in disaster. On the way back Lander was shot, and was only kept alive till Fernando Po was reached. With him ended for the time being Macgregor Laird’s enterprise. Though carried out with splendid persistence and self-sacrifice, its results were sadly negative, while out of the forty-nine Europeans who had been engaged in it only nine survived the fevers.

For several years nothing more was done to turn what was only too well named “the white man’s grave” to further account. In 1840, however, Governor Beecroft ascended the river to within thirty miles of Bussa, and got back without much loss of life, though adding but little to our knowledge of the geography of the region.

Meanwhile philanthropists were as much interested in the opening up of the Niger basin to European influence as was the commercial world. Laird’s expedition, though having trade as its primary object, “hoped also to aid in suppressing the slave trade, in introducing true religion, civilisation, and humanising influences among natives whose barbarism had hitherto been only heightened by European connection.”

These unselfish aims were further emphasised in 1841, when the Government, still undaunted by the fatal character of the work, sent out three steamers with the object of making treaties with the Niger chiefs for the suppression of the slave trade. A model farm was to be established at the confluence of the Benué and the main river, to teach the natives better methods of agriculture, and generally the foundations were to be laid of the great British Empire of which M‘Queen had dreamed. Thus, in some small way, expiation was to be made for the sins of earlier generations. Everything that science and forethought could suggest was done to make this expedition a success, but unhappily no way had yet been found to ward off the insidious attacks of malaria, or counteract the effects of the fever germs once they had gained a footing in the system. The result was death and disaster. No higher point than Egga was reached, and that only by one steamer. Out of one hundred and forty-five men, forty-eight died within the two months the vessels were in the river.

The project of turning the Niger to profitable account, in the face of such frightful mortality and deadly climatic conditions, seemed now to be utterly hopeless. From Major Houghton downwards, death by violence, privation, or disease had been the fate of whoever had attempted to open it up to European influence. No other river had such a romantic history of heroic self-sacrifice—none such a martyr roll—none such a record of heroism and precious blood apparently uselessly thrown away.

Was it really all in vain? Was neither the European nor the native to derive any benefit from the exploration of this silvery streak through the beautiful West Coast Highlands, the densely populated plains of Sego and Massina, the depopulated half desert wilderness of Songhay and Gandu, the forest depths of Igara and Ado, and the mangrove swamps around the Bight of Benin. Were Park, Clapperton, Lander, and all the other explorers of the Niger basin, only to be remembered in future ages for the heroic virtues they had shown, and not as the pioneers of a new era of hope to the African—the founders of a great national enterprise, bright with promise alike to Britain and to Africa?

The thought of such an ending was not to be entertained without reluctance, yet it seemed inevitable. Savage opposition and ordinary physical difficulties might in time be overcome, but who could fight against the disease which lurked unseen in the fœtid depths of mangrove forests, and filled the air with its poisonous germs? Who could avoid the incurable blight of its deadly breath?

Already such questions had been asked, when the failure of Tuckey’s expedition gave pause for a time to Niger exploration, till Clapperton and Denham, attacking the region from the rear, had made the despondent once more hopeful. Strangely enough, the recurrence of the same crisis brought with it a similar cure.

In 1849 an expedition set forth from Tripoli, under Government auspices this time, commanded by Richardson, and Drs. Barth and Overweg.

The frontiers of Bornu were safely reached, and here the party divided—never to meet again. Richardson and Overweg went the way of Toole and Oudney, and only Barth was left to carry out the objects of the expedition. Right worthily he performed his task. Never before had such a rich harvest of geographical, historical, ethnographical, and philological facts been gathered in the African field of research.

From Kanem to Timbuktu, from Tripoli to Adamawa, he laid the land under contribution. Vain would it be in the restricted space of these pages to follow him in his wonderful travels. It may be noted, however, that while travelling south-west from Kuka in Bornu to the Fulah province of Adamawa, he reached on the 18th June 1851 the river Benué, at its junction with the Faro, and 415 geographical miles in a direct line from its confluence with the Niger. Not since leaving Europe had he seen so large and imposing a river. Even at this distant point the Benué, or “Mother of Waters,” is half a mile broad, and runs with a swift current to the west. It was said to rise nine days’ journey to the south-east, while the Faro came from a mountain seven days’ journey distant.

Only second in importance to his discovery of the Benué so far to the east of the Niger, was his exploration of the great bend of the Niger itself.

Travelling from Bornu, he passed west through Sokoto and Gandu to the Niger at Say, some distance above the point where the Gulbi-n-Gindi from Sokoto joins the main river.

From Say he travelled in a north-easterly direction across the great bend, among wild Tuareg tribes, and the romantic mountains of Hombori, to Timbuktu. Thence he once more returned to the safer Haussa States along the river banks, whereon no European eye save Park’s had ever before rested. Here he was in the centre of the once wonderful Songhay Empire, of which the sole relics left after the destructive blows of Moor, Tuareg, and Fulah, were a few miserable villages, whose inhabitants eked out a wretched existence, equally ground down by drought and the ravages of human marauders.

One result of Barth’s discovery of the Benué so near Lake Chad was the despatch of another expedition, to determine if possible the navigability of the river, a point which previous attempts had failed to settle satisfactorily.

Macgregor Laird was again the leading spirit in this new enterprise, and anything that past experience could suggest was taken advantage of to ensure a successful trip. Dr. Baikie, R.N., and D. J. May, R.N., went as surveying officers and leaders, several other gentlemen being associated with them. This in some respects was the most successful of the Government surveying expeditions, for it not only explored and surveyed the Benué for a distance of 340 miles, but returned without any special loss of life.

With this trip practically closed our Government’s participation in the work of opening up the Niger. Thenceforth it contented itself with sending from time to time a gunboat into the river on some punitive mission, but no special attempts were made to further enlighten the world as to its geography and resources. Henceforth all such work was left to private enterprise, Government remaining aloof, disposed neither to encourage nor discourage, but clearly satisfied that nothing of importance could be made of a partially navigable river, flowing through a country of seemingly no great commercial capabilities, and with a climate which made colonisation out of the question, and even a residence, however short, almost impossible to the average European.

CHAPTER XXIX.
THE FRENCH ADVANCE TO THE NIGER.

With the practical withdrawal of our Government from Niger enterprise, M‘Queen’s magnificent dream of British Empire in the heart of Africa seemingly vanished for ever. A new school of politicians appeared in our national councils who had so little read the secrets of our country’s greatness, that their cry was for no more foreign expansion—no more colonial responsibilities.

The influence of the retrograde movement soon began to tell on the fortunes of West Africa. Already its natural development had been retarded by a deadly climate, a scarcity of valuable products, and the barbarity and laziness of its inhabitants. To these were now added Government neglect and mismanagement. Administrators and governors were told to restrict their operations to the narrowest limits. Merchants were either debarred access to the interior, or informed that they would advance at their own risk, and with no hope of Government support. Geographical enterprise shared in the general blight. The work of exploring a region which had become classic through the travels and martyred lives of so many of Britain’s most worthy sons was stopped.

Needless to say, such a policy led to disgraceful results. British influence was confined to the coast region, there to eke out a miserable political and commercial existence among its deadly swamps; our governors were given the old woman’s task of administering ludicrously unsuitable laws, or palavering over petty disputes with still more petty tribal chiefs; our merchants, thanks to the conditions under which they were placed, became degraded into barterers of gin, rum, tobacco, gunpowder, and guns, the best Europe had to give in return for Africa’s oils, gold, and ivory. But while we were thus degenerating into an invertebrate abortion of British colonial genius, fit occupant of slimy swamps and fever-breeding jungles, a continental rival was preparing to step into our shoes, and reap the reward of our former labours.

Almost coincidently with the practical throwing up of our work on the Lower Niger, the French began to bestir themselves on the Senegal, and cast longing eyes towards Bambarra and the Upper Niger. They too began to dream of Central African Empire—as once M‘Queen had done—and to see far off in the future their flag supreme from the Mediterranean coast line of Algiers to the shores of the Atlantic. The key of the situation they clearly saw lay in the Niger. Once established there, with the necessary openings to the west, they would have command of the whole of the Western Sudan, and possibly also of the Central Region.

With patient foresight they began to send explorers along the line of proposed conquest, carrying with them ready-made treaties, French flags, and blank maps. Already French influence had made itself felt far up the river, and forts had been established in the very earliest days of their rule. Such of the latter as had fallen into ruins or had been deserted were once more occupied and repaired, and new advance posts were pushed further into the heart of the country.

Soon they had firmly established themselves as high up the Senegal as the point where Park in his first expedition had crossed it on his way to Kaarta. This was the limit of the river’s navigability in the wet season. But no consideration of natural difficulties gave limit to their dream of power.

In 1863, two officers, E. Mage and Dr. Quintin, prospected a way to the Niger across the intervening highlands lying between the two rivers. French arms were not slow to follow where French explorers led, and speedy preparations were made to complete the base of operations for the final advance to their promised land.

Meanwhile our representatives on the coast, stewing in their miserable, disease-stricken belt, were not blind to the progress being made by our enterprising neighbours, nor unaware of their vast designs of conquest and commercial monopoly, and the probable result to England’s political and commercial position in these regions. In vain they drew the attention of the Home Government to the situation, and asked for power to act before it was too late. They were but as voices crying in the wilderness, to which as little heed was paid as gives the Bedouin to the desert mirage. More than that, the coast authorities were told to let the French go where they liked, and not to throw any obstacles in their way.

The French were not slow to take advantage of the field thus left open to them. By 1880 their line of forts on the Senegal was completed, and everything ready for their next move. For this enterprise Captain Gallieni was appointed leader, and at the head of a small army of drilled troops, and a considerable train of donkeys, native drivers, native servants, &c., he started in 1880 on his mission of planting the French flag on the Upper Niger, where, from our geographical position and priority of exploration, the Union Jack alone should have floated.

As far as the confluence of the Bakhoy and the Bafing, the march of Gallieni was attended by nothing worse than the usual amount of worry and trouble incident to the passage of a small army through a barbarous or semi-barbarous country. Beyond, however, lay the unoccupied and but partially explored country between the Senegal and the Niger. Here the special trials and cares of the expedition commenced. Food was often obtained with difficulty. Their advance was naturally viewed with suspicion by the natives, and much care and tact was required to prevent friction. In spite of all obstructions, however, they gradually pushed south towards their goal, leaving French flags in the hands of the chiefs, and bearing with them treaties placing the latter and their people under the protection of France.

Before the Niger was reached the expedition came near being destroyed by a determined attack made on it by a people called Beleris. The Beleris were successfully repulsed, however, and two days later Bammaku on the Niger was reached, where already the tricolour was found floating—an advance section of the party having succeeded in concluding the customary treaty. By what means the treaty was obtained we are not told, though we do learn that Gallieni’s reception was cold and inhospitable.

It now only remained to get to Sego, to see the Suzerain of the Upper Niger chiefs and kings, and conclude a treaty with him. For this purpose Gallieni crossed the Niger and travelled along the south side of the river. On his arrival in the neighbourhood of the capital, he was stopped, and ordered to remain where he was, till his business was settled. Many weary weeks and months were passed in the attempt to get Amadu, the Sultan of Sego, to sign a treaty, placing his country under a French protectorate. In the end the necessary signature was obtained, and from that moment French rule—on paper—was supreme from the sources of the Niger to Timbuktu.

France, however, was by no means inclined to be satisfied with a merely mental recognition of her authority. With splendid energy and perseverance she pushed forward her forts into the valley of the Bakhoy—the watershed of the two rivers; and finally built herself an abiding habitation on the Niger itself. At the same time a railway was commenced, having for its object the connection of the highest navigable point of the Senegal with Bammaku. At the same time a gunboat was carried over in sections, and put together on the river, as a further symbol of French authority, and a potent instrument to spread its influence.

To further secure their prize from the possible results of the awakening of the British Government, France set about isolating the River Gambia by a cordon of treaties, leaving the waterway British, but making all else French. To make her position yet more strong, all the countries towards the upper tributaries and sources of the Niger were placed under French protection, and almost the entire coast line from the Gambia south to Sierra Leone was taken possession of. And through it all our Government peacefully slept on, having left orders not to be awakened; or it woke up only to blink approval, delighted to be rid of the whole troublesome business.

Sixty years before M‘Queen had written—“France is already established on the Senegal, and commands that river, and if the supineness and carelessness of Great Britain allow that powerful, enterprising, and ambitious rival to step before us and fix herself securely on the Niger, then it is evident that with such a settlement in addition to her command of the Senegal, France will command all Northern Africa. The consequences cannot fail to be fatal to the best interests of this country, and by means surer than even by war and conquest, tend ultimately to bring ruin on our best tropical colonial establishment.”

What M‘Queen had feared, had now come to pass, as regards the political aspect of the action of the French in the Niger kingdoms. It still remains to be seen what is to be the commercial outcome of their African dream.

CHAPTER XXX.
THE ROYAL NIGER COMPANY.

It has ever been a good thing for British commercial enterprise that its agents have never had to rely on their Government to pioneer new trade routes, and secure for them unexploited territory. Our merchants have required nothing but a free hand to cut out their own paths, and that the fruits of their labours should not be taken from them by the political action of other nationalities. What has been accomplished on these terms let half our colonies say.

The above rule, though general, has not been invariably applied, as witness the case of West Africa, already described, in which, as the result of Government restriction and interference, the harvest of British labour has passed into French hands, and commercial enterprise has become crushed and degraded along with the regions in which it has been carried on.

Happily for our position in West Central Africa, the Niger basin never fell under these blighting influences. When our Government withdrew from that region it withdrew completely, otherwise there would have been yet another chapter of lamentable mal-administration and gross betrayal of a nation’s trust to add to the annals of West African history.

The Niger was thus left free to be made the most of by the operations of private enterprise.

For a few years after Baikie’s expedition nothing more was done to establish a trade in the river. Not that the task was abandoned as hopeless. On the contrary, new plans were germinating and steadily taking shape and form preparatory to renewed attempts under more hopeful conditions.

By this time people had begun to realise more thoroughly the nature of a tropical life, and knew better how to fight the insidious and dangerous influences of excessive heat and moisture, and the germs of disease they fostered. By substituting quinine for the lancet in the treatment of fever, that hitherto deadly disease had been robbed of half its terrors.

Once more Macgregor Laird—a name that must be bracketed with those of Park, M‘Queen, and Lander—was the leader in the new movement. Undaunted by past losses and failures—on the contrary, shown by their teaching how victory was to be achieved—he again entered the Niger in 1852—this time not to leave it till he had laid the permanent foundations of British commercial influence.

In this new enterprise the pioneer did not restrict himself to mere voyages up the river and passing calls at the chief marketing centres. He established stations at various points, in the form of movable hulks moored in the river, which had the double advantage of being capable of removal bodily, and of providing a certain measure of security from hostile attack. At the same time, profiting by past experience of the deadly nature of the climate, the number of European agents was reduced to a minimum, and educated coast natives were employed instead.

Palm oil, ivory, and Benni-seed were the sole products exported—cotton goods, metals of various kinds, beads and salt, being the chief articles given in exchange. Nearer the coast, gin, rum, gunpowder, and guns were largely in demand, as a result of the old shameful days of slave dealing. A profitable trade was soon established, and before many years Macgregor Laird had to compete with new firms who sought to share the profits.

But though the Europeans thus increased in numbers, their position continued to be extremely precarious. The cannibal tribes of the delta were not slow to recognise that their monopoly of the trade of the upper river was being completely abolished, and they sought to bar the way by incessant attacks on the steamers and stations of the various traders. These having conflicting interests, could not be made to combine for common action against the common enemy. From time to time a gunboat paid a hurried punitive visit, but produced no permanent impression upon the refractory inhabitants.

The result of this divided action on the part of the traders, and the growing power and truculence of the native tribes, was extremely disastrous for Macgregor Laird, who eventually was forced to retire from the river.

Along with the growing dangers to the various houses engaged in the Niger trade, new troubles began to loom up before them, retarding the proper and healthy commercial development of the region, and threatening all in a common ruin. At first the field to be exploited was so large that the traders came but little into conflict. Gradually, however, with the entrance of new firms, and the planting of new stations, they began to encroach on each other’s districts. The result was soon seen in the keen competition which ensued. The price of native produce began to go up, till it threatened to rise above its value. To keep the trade going profitably the agents were forced to become more and more unscrupulous as to the nature of the articles of import—more and more regardless of the claims of their commercial competitors. Each sought to drive the other out, and the natives, not slow to see the advantages to themselves, did their best to encourage the strife. Under such conditions all legitimate progress was rendered impossible. At any given point the inhabitants were in a position to say, Thus far shalt thou go and no further, or could clear the merchants out if they thought fit. Enterprise requiring considerable outlay was out of the question when the fruits were probably to be reaped only by rivals. The trade, from being restricted to useful articles, was rapidly degenerating, so as largely to include vile spirits and weapons of destruction. Gradually the conditions of competition were making a wholesome trade an impossibility, and the natives, instead of being bettered spiritually and materially by European intercourse, were being driven down into deeper depths of barbarism. A state of things which our prophet M‘Queen had foretold in these memorable words—“If this erroneous policy is pursued, then to the latest period of time the central and southern parts of that vast continent are doomed to remain in the same deplorable state of ignorance, degradation, and misery which has been their lot during the lapse of three hundred years.”

This was a consummation of their labours which the merchants could not contemplate with equanimity. That they were honourable men we have no reason to doubt. True, they went to the Niger in order to make money, but they had no thought of growing wealthy on the ruin and degradation of the people among whom they traded. They had become the victims of the circumstances under which their business was carried on, whereby they were driven irresistibly and even unwittingly into the deplorable situation in which they at length found themselves. In a manner they were more to be pitied than blamed, for they had conjured up a Frankenstein that threatened to be their ruin. To one and all it was alike clear that as long as open unregulated competition lasted, the character of the trade could not be altered—must indeed go from bad to worse—their profits become less and less, and their footing in the country more precarious, subject as it was to the whims, enmities, extortions, and restrictions of the barbarous tribes, armed by the traders themselves with guns which on occasion were turned against the vendors.

A turning point in the commercial history of the Niger had been reached, and everything now depended on the course pursued whether the next departure would be for the weal or for the woe of all concerned.

Happily the right man was forthcoming at this critical juncture, when the necessity of a change was evident to all. Clear-headed, far-seeing business men were in the trade—the peers among British merchants wherever engaged; but something more was wanted in him who should extricate his fellows from the difficult situation in which they had placed themselves. Some one was needed who, with business instincts and knowledge, should combine the savoir faire and knowledge of the world of the diplomatist. Such an one was Sir George T. Goldie—then Mr. G. Goldie Taubman—a name which, like that of Macgregor Laird, must ever rank in the galaxy of great names associated with the annals of Niger enterprise.

At the time Sir George Goldie joined the Central African Company of London, the only other houses in the river were Messrs. Miller & Co., Glasgow, the West African Company of Manchester, and Mr James Pinnock of Liverpool. Trade was carried on as far north as Egga, though commercially the Benué still remained a closed river. A visit to the seat of operations was sufficient to make Sir George aware of the exact situation, and the absolute necessity of a change, if a legitimate and at the same time profitable trade were to be continued. The other firms were already impressed with the same opinion, and the result of a little laying of heads together was the amalgamation of all the firms into the United African Company in the year 1879.

The happy results of this policy were soon made apparent in improved profits. The expense of management was enormously reduced. Where formerly there had been floating hulks, permanent stations were built on land, and at the same time the number was increased. The Company thus found itself on an altogether new footing with the natives, who could now be treated with on equal terms. The trade grew by leaps and bounds, and bade fair to become of national importance.

Naturally such prosperity could not continue without attracting the envious attention of other nations, and more especially of the French, who, having succeeded far beyond their wildest expectations in reaping the harvest sown by the English in the Upper Niger basin, hoped by a little judicious manipulation to be able to do the same along the lower course of the river, and so carry out their dream of an almost exclusive African Empire stretching from Benin to the Mediterranean.

Under the patronage, more or less open, of Gambetta—certainly instigated and encouraged by him—the first feelers were thrown out in the establishment of two commercial associations—the Compagnie Française de l’Afrique Equatoriale of Paris, with a capital of £160,000; and the Compagnie du Senegal et de la Côte Occidentale d’Afrique of Marseilles, with a subscribed capital of £600,000.

Happily for British enterprise in the Niger basin our interests were watched over by argus eyes, else the course of events would have taken a different turn, French commerce bringing everywhere with it the French flag and administrative system, to the eventual strangling of any trade of ours.

The United African Company, till then private, was promptly thrown open to the public, and the capital raised to a million sterling. Thus provided with “the sinews of war,” the Company proceeded to give battle to the foreign interlopers, and speedily swept them out of the entire region. None the less, however, did the French contrive to do incalculable harm during their brief inglorious career, under which the gin trade flourished, and further anarchy was spread among the savage tribes, as usual ever ready to take full advantage of division and enmity among the European traders.

With the annihilation of the French Companies our merchants once more reigned supreme, and all immediate danger of French political and commercial aggression was completely quashed.

The footing, however, which the former had even temporarily been able to effect, had shown the precarious position of the British Company’s hold on the country, unsupported as they were by Government backing. They were still open to renewed attempts at aggression—still liable to have the fruits of their labour and enterprise wrested from them. Under such conditions there could be no real attempts to develop the resources of the country, or introduce new civilising institutions among the natives, to effect which ends it was perfectly clear that two things were necessary—first, that the Niger basin below Timbuktu should be declared British, as a guarantee against all further foreign intrusion; and second, that a Royal Charter should be obtained, under the authority of which the Company would be enabled to proceed with the work of development and progress.

The necessity of this latter step had already been foreseen by M‘Queen long before the Lower Niger had been explored, except in M‘Queen’s own mind. With an insight truly prophetic, he pointed out that if ever Great Britain’s mission in the Niger was to be achieved, it could only be by means of a Chartered Company. While deprecating a prolonged term of privilege, he argues that its duration ought not to be narrowed too much, otherwise that circumstance would tend to discourage the merchant, and prevent him from laying out money at the first outset, or embarking in the trade with that vigour which alone could render it productive and successful.

In answer to the argument against exclusive privilege, he shows that this exclusive privilege is for a trade yet to be formed, and that the commercial conditions of a civilised and an uncivilised country are totally different. In the latter “everything is to do. Regular commerce is to be created. Society is almost altogether to be formed. Security and civilisation, law, order, and religion are each and all yet to be introduced. Unity of action and design, therefore, become absolutely necessary to accomplish all these desirable objects—conflicting interests amidst such a disjointed population must and will indefinitely retard it. A charter is clearly and indispensably necessary in order to conduct mercantile affairs to a prosperous issue—in order to regulate the supply, to explore the country and find out the proper markets, to negotiate as an irresistible and stable power with the native princes, to purchase lands, to protect trade, to punish aggression, to rear up gradually an empire in Africa such as had been done in India, against which no native power shall be able to raise its head. Then and not till then the trade may be thrown open.... Without such regulations for a time there is too good reason to dread that our connection with Africa will never be more than the transient visitations of insulated merchants,” &c. &c. In these and other remarkable words M‘Queen graphically sketches the history of the sixty years of British intercourse with the Niger subsequent to the time at which he wrote. Only after such a lapse of time, and through a long series of mistakes and the rude buffeting of facts, were our eyes opened to the necessity of taking his advice.

Even then, however, the National African Company might have petitioned the Government in vain to make the Niger secure from foreign aggression, or to put them on the only possible footing to exploit and develop a savage country lying under the blight of a deadly climate, but for the sudden awaking of Europe to the supposed-to-be vast latent possibilities of the African continent. A magnificent bubble was puffed up into view, dazzling all eyes with its iridescent hues, and inflaming all minds with its promise of wealth and power. European commerce was to be regenerated—the pressure on the population was to be relieved—nations were to rise in power and importance. El Dorado and Second India were terms too weak to express the possibilities of the future when Africa was under discussion.

Under the electric glow of the new craze deserts were made to bloom like Eden, swamps became veritable arcadias, the wilderness was repeopled, and peace and a demand for European goods were discovered to be the prevailing characteristics of the natives. The result was the scramble for Africa, in which the chief nations of Europe made themselves ridiculous by the indecent haste with which they rushed to raise their respective flags. Our own Government was the last to feel the quickening influences, and then only awoke under the pressure of public opinion, and after much that should have been ours had been lost.

But for the National African Company the Niger would probably now have fallen a prey to France or Germany, but with admirable forethought they had strengthened their position and secured their rights by treaties with every native tribe from the mouth of the Niger to the Benué. By virtue of persistent nagging at the Foreign Office, these treaties were recognised by Government, and a protectorate proclaimed over the region thus acquired.

Then came the Berlin Conference in the winter of 1884, in which the free navigation of the Niger was established, but the administration of the river from Timbuktu to the sea was left in the hands of the British.

This was much; but more remained to be done. The Niger and Benué above their confluence still lay open to political and commercial aggression, which might be fatal to the best interests of this country as well as to the Company which had already done so much.

Thanks to the persistent efforts of one Herr Flegel, the Germans were not slow to recognise this fact. This indefatigable trader and explorer commenced his career as a clerk in a trading house in Lagos. Filled with an ambition to explore and extend German influence, he contrived to ascend the Niger in British mission steamers and trading vessels, spying out the land wherever he went, and ever on the outlook how the British bread he ate might be turned to German account. With much daring and industry, and assisted by German funds, he added much on subsequent trips to our knowledge of some parts of the Niger and Benué.

The result of his inquiries and exploration was to fire the German Colonial Society with the hope of establishing their national influence in the regions beyond the British Protectorate.

Happily the National African Company were as usual wideawake, and soon became aware of the new danger which threatened them. Immediately they set about preparing to forestall any action on the part of the Germans. Already in their self-imposed task of securing Britain’s rights in the Niger they had used up all the profits of their trade, but they had no thought of shrinking from the work. To have the Germans in the Niger would mean irreparable ruin to legitimate commerce, and the flooding of the whole land with the styx-like flood of gin which would inevitably flow in a devastating flood from Hamburg. At this supreme moment it became necessary once for all to secure the Niger basin to Britain. The Company did the writer of these lines the honour of inviting him to take up the task. Accordingly, in February 1885, I found myself once more steaming towards the tropics, while as yet my friends for the most part imagined me recruiting in the Mediterranean from the effects of my recent expedition to Masai-land.