Nothing in West Africa is more striking than the attitude adopted by the several colonizing Powers towards commerce. At present, Germany is easily in the front rank; her policy towards business men is the most enlightened of any Power, and it is therefore to be the more regretted that her treatment of the natives is not equally far-sighted. Were it so, all students of African questions could view with equanimity her gradual absorption of the whole of Equatorial Africa.

The British merchant knows with absolute certainty that he may rely on receiving a warm welcome and every assistance in German colonies. He knows, too, that none will be given a preference before him. He knows that if “public good”—the stick which governors so frequently wield—demands the removal of his factory, or that a road must be driven through his ground, the German Government will not quibble over doubtful legal points, but will look at the question on broad lines of common-sense policy.

Steam into a German port, and before you cast anchor you may see the customs and health-officers with their launches racing across the intervening stretch of sea. Promptly and smartly the doctor steps up the companion-way, and you begin unloading your cargo without further formalities. Your cargo finished, there is no delay about papers, no irritating objections about the closing time of the customs, or the doctor being at dinner or more likely, tennis. Contrast this with a visit to a French or Portuguese port—you may wait an hour before the health-officer comes on board. His visit over, the ship’s officers and native crew slave throughout the day to unload the cargo, so that they may have the valuable night watches for steaming to the next port, but if the Frenchman can by any quibble keep you tossing at anchor, you may rely upon his doing so.

The German neither likes nor dislikes the British merchant: he is concerned with one thing only—that British capital and British brains are good for his colony; therefore, without any sentimental nonsense, he gives the Britisher a warm welcome, and sees to it that no preference is given to the German merchant, which might make the British firm hesitate to invest further capital in a German colony.

Of course the regulations in German colonies are numerous and enforced with military precision and sternness. The native, centuries behind the white man, does not bear the strain very well. The Britisher, after a time, learns that such regulations are for his good and accepts them. No merchant at first takes kindly to keeping his back-yard free from refuse; if he is in Togoland he resents the first instance upon which he is fined twenty marks for leaving old tins, half-filled up with rain water, lying about the rear of his store, but when in the process of time he is still without fever, he sees the advantage of this anti-mosquito regulation.

In Lome the Germans have an extremely interesting and unique system of transport enterprise. The surf, as in many parts of West Africa, is extremely bad, and for years constituted a source of perpetual loss, not only of valuable cargoes, but of human life. With characteristic thoroughness the German, at great cost, ran a pier out to sea, built a railway line on it and extended this line along the front of the merchant houses—a distance of about 1½ to 2 miles. On the pier the Government erected seven powerful steam cranes. Having laid down this plant, they took the next truly Teutonic step and compelled all the merchants to accept Government transport.

An outward-bound steamer is sighted at sea, cranes are prepared, the health-officer leaves before the ship comes to anchor, papers are examined, cargo is rapidly placed in the surf boats which are towed across to the pier where, in an almost incredibly short space of time, fifty tons of cargo are hauled up on to the pier, put on the train and delivered at the merchants’ doors. A similar method is adopted with a steamer from the south—homeward bound. The moment the look-out ascertains her name and destination, he signals or telephones to the merchants, and shortly afterwards trains are in motion collecting the cargo already prepared for the expected vessel. When she comes to anchor, her surf boats are despatched to the pier, where they are promptly loaded and sent back to the ship.

There is a scientific air about the whole transaction; an absence of fuss; an attention to business quite refreshing in tropical Africa, and above all, there is a sort of “hey presto” promptness in the way these tons of pots and pans, bales of cotton, barrels of oil and bags of corn are handled.

All merchants, of whatever nationality, must accept this transport and pay a fixed rate of 11s. a ton, which covers all costs and insurance against every risk. In return they are saved the expense and trouble which attaches to the upkeep of boats, boat-boys and a large staff of men for handling cargo. I was assured by the merchants that the system works extremely well, saves them much annoyance, and, on the whole, does not work out at much greater expense than the rough-and-ready methods of other colonial ports.

The administration of German colonies is decidedly autocratic, although not more so than in British Crown colonies. In German Cameroons, however, all interests are consulted in a manner which demonstrates the eagerness of the German Government to keep on good terms with the merchant. Twice, sometimes three times a year, the Governor holds an enlarged “Colonial Council,” to the deliberations of which he invites not only the principal merchants, but the leading missionaries. I was informed that at these meetings the Governor welcomed criticism of existing or projected enactments, no matter from what quarter they came, and that the result was that everyone felt himself to be an integral part of the colony.

How different the French Administration! The Entente Cordiale may be all right in the Banqueting Hall, and as a pin-prick for Germany, but it is time the British people questioned its value in things that count. The truth is that in French colonies, merchants of other nationality are not wanted. Wherever you go in French West Africa, the merchant is full of grievances with regard to the petty annoyances of the Government and the officials. Nor does this apply to West Africa alone; the same story is told in Madagascar and the New Hebrides, in both of which places, not only is the merchant entirely de trop, but the Entente Cordiale has not even secured decent treatment for the devoted missionaries. The Entente Cordiale was not brought about for selfish ends by Great Britain, and considering the much advertised generosity of our partner, we have a right to expect at least ordinary civilities in her colonies. The French are so absorbed in themselves that they would have none but Frenchmen on the face of the earth. As Napoleon failed to accomplish this end, the present-day Frenchman will not, if he can help it, have any but his own nationality in French colonies.

The Portuguese want British capital, but they don’t want British merchants; they kill the commerce of British firms by every form of preferential treatment. Their right to do so is, of course, equal to that of a man to cut his own throat. The only British enterprises in Portuguese West Africa are the Lobito-Katanga Railway, the Angola Coaling Company and some electrical works at Catumbella. The first named is the well-known Robert Williams’ project for reaching the Katanga and Northern Rhodesia from the West Coast. The local Portuguese would probably like to strangle this valuable undertaking in its infancy, but they see already how much capital is finding its way into Angola. When Robert Williams gets his railway through to Katanga, the Angola colony will become an asset of considerable value to the Republic.

The attitude of the Belgian Government towards commerce is again different from that of any other colonial administration. Theoretically, the Belgians are anxious to persuade capital to enter the colony, but the principles of King Leopold’s rule have taken such firm root that in practice the presence of any commercial agents, particularly those of any other nationality, is gall and wormwood to the local Belgians. Nothing, for example, irritates them so much as a reminder that by the Berlin Act they are bound to keep the country open to the free commerce of the world.

Even Belgian merchants complain of the treatment they receive at the hands of the officials of the administration. Recently, when calling at Stanley Pool on board a merchant steamer, we had to pass the customs official. We put our anchor ashore in front of the customs house, where the official himself was standing on the beach smoking a cigar, and, as we thought, waiting to examine our papers. He knew the captain (a Belgian) was pressed for time, yet he deliberately kept the ship at anchor for twenty minutes whilst he finished his cigar! No doubt this conduct was meant to—and, of course, did—impress the crew, but, as the captain remarked, the reason at the back of such action is the desire of Belgian officialdom to monopolize transport, and their hatred of any form of free commerce.

I was present on another occasion which instanced Belgian desire to secure trade in principle, whilst unwilling to put their advertised desires into practice by exhibiting a readiness to render real assistance. There came into Boma a British ship, whose captain was of higher rank than those usually visiting this port; it was in fact the first time this officer had called at a port so insignificant as Boma. He ran his ship alongside the pier, but was amazed to find none of the ordinary preparations for unloading cargo. Instead of sending a ship’s officer for an explanation, he went himself to see the quasi-Government Railway Company.

“Where,” he asked, “are the railway trucks for unloading cargo?”

“There they are,” laconically replied the official.

“But I want them at the ship,” said the captain.

“Well,” answered the official, with genuine courtesy, “you can take them, I don’t object.”

That it was in any sense the man’s responsibility to send these trucks along did not occur to him, and upon the captain asking how he was to get them over the intervening half mile of line to the pier, he was told, again with every courtesy, “send your crew to push them!”

Then might be seen the spectacle of a ship’s officer and a gang of Kroo boys spending hours under a tropical sun straining and tugging at these unwieldy railway trucks, all of which could have been shunted in a few minutes with ease by any one of the idle engines in the sheds. That a ship of 5000 tons was delayed for twenty-four hours by this stupidity was immaterial to the Belgian official. How differently the German would have acted! The empty trucks would have been ready on the pier, a shunting engine with steam up standing by directly the steamer began making her way alongside, but the Belgian is not cast in that mould.

In British West African colonies the relations between Government and Commerce are unique. Alone among the Powers she has developed a caste attitude, until to-day the distinction is not a little embarrassing. The British official is quite a good fellow when you get him alone, but, as a class, they form a distinctly objectionable “set.” This is apparent the first day on board ship, when the “sorting out” commences, and if the weather is good this process provides not a little amusement to an observant passenger. Usually there are but three groups of travellers on a “coast” steamer—the official, the merchant and the missionary. As we have travelled a good deal in these ships, many occasions have presented themselves for watching the arranging and rearranging of this little floating town. The last time we set out from Liverpool was the most entertaining of any. Running down the channel, a youth, who had apparently never travelled before, wished me “Good day,” with the apparent intention of pacing the deck, but upon his discovering that I was neither an official, nor a missionary, he inwardly argued “a trader,” and promptly made off!

Another and yet another pursued the same tactics, until by a process of elimination they “discovered” the officials. “Steward” was then called and all the “official chairs” were placed in a semi-circle in the best part of the deck. That this monopolized the only comfortable section of the upper deck did not appear to concern these gentlemanly youths.

In the dining-saloon the chief steward had placed us at one of the lower tables, but learning from the captain of certain instructions given him by one of the Directors, with whom I was on friendly terms, this man came forward and with profuse apologies asked me to accept an entirely different place in the saloon, saying that he “thought I was a trader!”

Once I met a young Sierra Leone merchant, who told me that a certain official in the Protectorate had been taken ill with a bad fever at his factory; that he had nursed him through it with all the care of a relative; that this official, when he was at last able to leave, appeared deeply grateful for all that had been done for him, and the merchant believed he had made a lifelong friend. A few months afterwards business called him to Freetown, and passing along one of the streets, he met two or three officials, one of whom was the friend whom he had so carefully nursed. To his amazement, he only received a curt nod and a plain intimation that further intercourse was undesirable. It is to be hoped that such conduct is rare, but the general attitude of the younger British officials is becoming almost intolerable.

This treatment of the merchant class finds no place in any other colony of West Africa. It is of quite recent growth and monstrously unjust to the merchants, for it should never be forgotten that it is almost entirely to the merchant and missionary communities that Great Britain primarily owes her presence in West Africa. There is another fact our officials would do well to remember, namely, that the natives and the merchants together pay their salaries and pensions.

The younger officials make themselves far more objectionable than the older men, but probably this is due to their inexperience. It is, however, regrettable that the older officials do not set a more pronounced example in the other direction. Within recent years, the British Colonial Office has been sending out, in the capacity of Assistant District Commissioners, many youths of necessarily immature judgment and totally lacking in experience. These lads are by far the worst specimens in their attitude towards the native and merchant communities. Recently, this feature has been impressing itself upon travellers in East as well as in West Africa. Mr. E. N. Bennet, in his book on the Turks in Tripoli, says:—

The merchant seeking a new field for commerce in West Africa will find the warmest welcome and the fairest treatment in German colonies, and next to Germany, in this respect, the British colonies; there is not much to choose between the Belgian and the Portuguese. None but Frenchmen should go to the colonies of “Liberty, Equality and Fraternity,” for there is little Liberty, less Equality and no Fraternity in the French colonies for white or black.