I occupied the centre of the canoe, while my servant and baggage were at one end and the crew at the other. There was just room to put up a camp table under my awning, where I could read or write, and at sunset we used to halt at the nearest village, so as to get a night’s rest ashore.

The route was rather intricate, as the main stream was frequently blocked by impenetrable “borgou,” necessitating a diversion through some side creek, and thereby lengthening our journey considerably. I found out also that very often the natives only knew the way from one village to the next, so that a guide had to be taken at almost each village we passed. These villages were inhabited by the Sonrhais, who were possessors of big herds of cattle similar to those owned by the Fulanis on the Niger. There was also in each village a certain proportion of Bosos, who were the fisherfolk of this country. The swampy banks were the haunts of numerous wart-hog, and one could often get a shot at these animals from the canoe as they stopped to watch it in their stupid fashion before scuttling off into the bush. Kob were also plentiful about these marshy streams, as were their near relatives, the Bohor reed-buck. For almost every kind of West African game which frequents marshy tracts this was a splendid shooting country. The natives themselves hunt little, so that the game is not so shy and scared as it often is in places thickly populated with these hunters. The Sonrhais are too much given up to cattle and horse raising, while the Bosos are quite as devoted to their fishing, for either tribe to care for hunting game.

The horses in this locality were some of the finest I had seen. These people make rather a speciality, for natives, of horse-breeding. When the land is inundated and pasturage is rich, the horses are left for several months at a time in the fallow ground at the water-side. I noticed large droves of horses as we passed the banks. There were a large number of mares with foals on the higher ground, while the stallions were usually nearer the water.

I had despatched my horse by a more circuitous land route, so he would be several days later than I in arriving at Timbuctu, if, indeed, he ever arrived. He had been consigned to the care of the headman of the village, and was to be passed on from one to the other en route. In any case, the little beast had done me good service, and I had certainly had a good three pounds’ worth of value from him!

On the 7th of April we entered the Niger, at a point some miles below the junction of its two branches, Issa-Ber and Bara-Issa. A short while after stopping for breakfast that morning we passed a barge, flying the French colours. The occupants were the officer in charge of the ostrich farm at Niafounké and his wife. They had been down the river for nearly three hundred miles to decide on a more suitable site for the farm, and were now on their way back to Niafounké. The lady was certainly the only European representative of her sex on that side of Koulikoro, and was regarded with great astonishment by many of the natives, who naturally had never seen a white woman before.

Soon after midday we sighted a small building on the river banks, built at the point where a big backwater of the Niger quits the main stream. This was Korioumé, and is used as the port of Timbuctu instead of Kabara during the driest months of the year, as vessels are then unable to get nearer to Timbuctu, owing to the lack of water. Kabara lies about five and a half miles further on, being approached by a canal. This canal is being enlarged to allow the passage of larger craft than can use it at present.

Kabara consists of a collection of mud huts, forming the dwellings of the transport officials and the native population. Alongside the quay lie a variety of river craft, barges, and steel as well as wooden canoes. It is not an imposing-looking spot, but is important as the head-quarters of the Navigation Service for the section Kabara to Ansongo, a distance of nearly four hundred miles.

I landed and presented myself at the Transport Office, where I was provided with donkeys to carry my kit to Timbuctu, and was informed that the Commandant had very thoughtfully sent a horse for me to ride up to the town. All baggage is conveyed by donkeys to Timbuctu, and there are a number of men in the town who make their living by letting out donkeys for this purpose. The country immediately assumes the appearance of a desert on leaving Kabara. There is a wide track, worn by thousands of animals’ feet, leading through the soft sand across the five miles which separate Timbuctu from her port. Beyond a few scattered gum trees, mimosa, and a little coarse grass, there is nothing but sand on all sides.

A short distance to the right of the road in the desert, and about half-way to Timbuctu, is a monument erected to Commandant Obb, the first Frenchman to try to enter Timbuctu. He had only a small following of twenty, and perished with all his gallant men in the attempt. The monument is placed at the spot where he fell. The town was at that time in the hands of the Tuaregs, who swarmed in hundreds round his small band until they had annihilated it. Several subsequent attempts were made to capture the town before they finally succeeded. Curiously enough, the capture of Timbuctu was eventually made by a mere handful of men under a French naval lieutenant, and was effected by surprise. Since then, although it has several times been threatened by raiding bands of Tuaregs, it has never been out of the possession of the French.

On ascending a slight rise in the road, Timbuctu, the Mysterious City, suddenly comes into view.

As I saw it the scene spread out before me was a strange one. In a slight depression was the town itself, a conglomeration of sandy, brown buildings, with flat roofs, while here and there a minaret obtruded its pointed head. Most prominent of all were three mosques, one at the east, another at the centre, and the third at the west of the town. At the extreme western corner were three solitary palm trees, behind which the sun was dying, and as its last rays caught the sombre-hued houses they were lit up and stood out more clearly from the surrounding desert which they so closely resembled.

There was something rather fascinating about this quaint desert city, so solemn and subdued did it appear to be. But on the whole my feelings were those of disappointment, for I had expected a far more imposing-looking place. I had pictured to myself a town of fine Moorish buildings, minaretted palaces, and the bright appearance of an Oriental city. It had seemed to me that the influence of the Moorish occupation must be strongly impressed on Timbuctu, but this is not so to any marked extent. In point of fact, except for the three mosques, the general appearance of the town was very much like many others I had seen on my journey through Western Soudan—anyhow, in the distance. Timbuctu’s chief difference lies rather in her surroundings than in her individuality. She is alone in the desert. The desert surrounds her on all sides. The Niger is no longer a feature of the scenery; all her water is obtained from wells. As a matter of fact, sometimes, when the floods have been heavier than usual, a small backwater occasionally runs up from Kabara to Timbuctu, but this soon disappears as the floods subside, and to see water above ground is a rare sight.

Some of the wells are very deep, going down as much as seventy metres. The water is very good, however, and is seldom filtered. After presenting myself to the Commandant I was shown to the house of the military officer administering the district where I was to stay. My host, Captain Ferrière, was most thoughtful and obliging during my sojourn at Timbuctu, and I look back with pleasure to the pleasant days I spent with him.

I was much disappointed to hear that there was no possibility of being able to cross the Sahara from Timbuctu direct, as I had arranged. It appeared that, owing to some raiding bands of Southern Morocco having descended recently through the very country by which I wanted to pass, the guides were afraid to go that way. In addition the heat had this year been more severe than usual, and many wells were dry. At one stage it was necessary to march ten days without water. This being the case, I had to abandon all idea of starting the desert journey from Timbuctu, as I had intended, for to cross the Sahara without a guide is an absolute impossibility.

There was an alternative route open to me, however; this debouched from Gao, a place 270 miles further down the Niger, and was considerably to the east of the route I had proposed to take from Timbuctu. In addition to the annoyance of having to alter my plans, I was now somewhat what anxious whether I should be able to arrive in England by the date my leave expired, for my journey would now be lengthened by some 700 miles altogether. I was further delayed a few days at Timbuctu before transport could be arranged for me to go down the river to Gao. I was told that I could have a steel canoe or a barge, but the former was much faster although not so comfortable. Before deciding it was suggested that I should take an experimental trip in the steel canoe, as the motion in these craft is rather pronounced and has the effect of making some people sea-sick!

On Sunday morning two French officers and I, having arranged a shooting picnic on the river, embarked on the steel canoe. This particular canoe was built expressly light to carry mails rapidly between Kabara and the down-river ports. She was rather narrow in the beam, and travelled at a great pace when propelled by her six paddlers. For the first half-hour I did not feel much inconvenience, but after this the violent rocking motion made me feel very uncomfortable; besides, owing to the constant shaking, reading or writing was out of the question. Finally, I must acknowledge that, on the return journey, I succumbed, and, indeed, so bad was I that I had a violent attack of fever before I got ashore. On landing, the transport officer at Kabara very kindly gave me a bed in his house, with plenty of blankets and quinine, so that by the next day I was much better. But this experience with the steel canoe decided me against that particular form of conveyance, and, at the risk of taking a few days longer on the journey, I gave an unhesitating vote for the barge!

During my enforced stay at Timbuctu I had ample leisure to explore the sights of the place. I was introduced to an interesting Frenchman, who is popularly known to his friends and the natives as Yakubu. Yakubu had the reputation, which he thoroughly deserved, of knowing more about Timbuctu than any man. He had previously been a Roman Catholic Father in the town, but some years ago had given up mission work for private life. He now taught native children purely from a love of teaching. Besides his knowledge of Timbuctu, he had an intimate acquaintance with Bambaras and Sonrhais and their languages, which he spoke fluently. It was with “Père” Yakubu that I made my tour of exploration in the city.

Timbuctu and the exploration of Africa during last century are very intimately connected. Most of the principal explorers of that time paid a visit to this historic city. This was perhaps all the more natural as, at that period, the course of the Niger was a problem which puzzled everyone, and many of these travellers had in view the exploration of that river. At Timbuctu are to be seen the houses of most of these explorers, which have been identified by the French since their occupation and kept by them in a good state of repair.

Starting with the earliest date comes the house of a fellow-countryman, Major Laing. This British officer made an adventurous journey in 1826 from Morocco to Timbuctu, through the Sahara Desert, and through a land peopled with lawless fanatical Mohammedans. He accomplished the journey there without mishap, but on his return by the same route he was waylaid and killed in the desert, north of Timbuctu. He is said to have been killed by the Kountah Arabs, who inhabit a portion of the Sahara north of the town; but it is a point difficult to prove. Some people say that the present chief of the Kountahs has actually in his possession Laing’s diary and papers, which were never recovered,[1] but that he is now afraid of restoring them to the French for fear of punishment. If this is the case it must have been the present chief’s grandfather who was responsible for the deed. The next traveller to pass that way was Réné Caillé, a Frenchman, and, I suppose, the most renowned French explorer of Africa. He did a wonderful journey in 1828 from Konakry, in French Guinea, to Morocco. He travelled down the Niger for many hundred miles on his way to Timbuctu.

After him came the very great African traveller, Barth, whose house is in better preservation than any other. He was the man who travelled from Tripoli, through our British protectorate of Northern Nigeria, to Timbuctu and back, in 1853. Barth spent a considerable time at Timbuctu, disguised as an Arab trader and known by the name of Abdul Karim. He had several narrow escapes, but came successfully out of all his adventures.

The next house to be seen is that of Lenz, an Austrian, who journeyed from Morocco to Dakar in 1880.

The interior of these houses, as of nearly all the houses in the town, is of Moorish design. There are generally an inner and an outer courtyard, on a very small scale. Most of the houses have two storeys, and all are built of sun-dried bricks, made of the clay which is found under the sand in the desert. The streets are narrow and tortuous. They twist and wind in such a curious manner that a guide is necessary for some time before it is possible to find one’s own way in the place. At one or two points great clay ovens are to be seen in the street; these are public property, and here the local bread is baked. It is a curious sight to watch a crowd of people round an oven in the daytime, each one putting in his or her loaf to be baked. This bread is made of a wheat grown at Gundam, near Timbuctu, and is black. The wheat is, I believe, the same as is grown in many parts of North Africa, making a very wholesome and nourishing food, which is the staple diet of the inhabitants.

The history of the mosques brings me to discuss the origin of the greatness of Timbuctu.

Timbuctu was originally the capital of a great black empire. The inhabitants were Sonrhais, whose territory extended practically all over the Middle Niger. The Sonrhay kings were men of great influence, and the town was the centre of a large trade. For many years Moors from the north and the black races from the south, east, and west used to bring their wares to its markets. The Sonrhay Empire was far the most powerful in Western Africa, continuing to be so till the Moorish invasion in 1482. The Moors defeated the Sonrhais, driving them to take refuge on the other bank of the Niger, in the “Bend.” They were in turn driven out of the town by the Tuaregs about the seventeenth century, and the Tuaregs remained in possession until the French finally captured the town at the end of last century.

Timbuctu was the centre of the traffic in slaves in this part of Africa, and there is no doubt that at that time it was a far larger place than it now is. The remains of old houses are frequently discovered under the sand at some distance from the existing boundaries of the city, while it seems very probable that the Niger once flowed past its walls.

The Sonrhais certainly extended in olden times from Djenné, in the south, to Es-Souk, in the north. The latter place is now right in the Sahara, about the 21st parallel north latitude. But now this once powerful race has greatly degenerated. Since their conquest by the Moors, and then by the Tuaregs, they have been in perpetual slavery; thus their spirit appears to have become quite crushed, and the race has been split up into little groups. We have met them in fractions all over the “Bend” of the Niger, and they are again to be found in small parties lower down that river. They have intermarried a good deal with their last conquerors, the Tuaregs, whom they frequently resemble in features. The negroid type of the pure Sonrhay has in many cases almost disappeared, while they have become paler in complexion, although they are still much blacker than the Tuaregs.

The mosques date from the eleventh century, and have curious pyramidical minarets. During the sixteenth century they had arches of Moorish design added to them by the Moorish chief Mali, who then occupied the town. Here the remarkable influence of the desert sand is noticeable, for, to get to the arches which are inside the mosques, a descent of three or four feet from the level of the street outside has to be made. This shows that sand to the thickness of several feet has gradually become heaped on to the ground outside, thereby heightening the level of the surface.

The chief trade of the city is salt. This is brought by large caravans periodically from the desert mines of Taudény, 300 miles north of the place. The salt is cut in rectangular bars, or flat slabs, weighing each about sixty pounds. When the caravans arrive, from November till March, the price of salt is down to five francs a bar, but it rises rapidly as the hot weather goes on, so that by the month of August a bar of salt will often cost twenty-five francs. These salt caravans are frequently attacked by desert highwaymen. Desert bands have been known to travel immense distances in order to attack one of them. Frequently they make a descent from South-west Morocco, over 800 miles of the Sahara, with the object of looting the camels of the “Azalai,” as the big caravan of November is called.

At Timbuctu one experiences the true Saharan sirocco, a violent wind blowing from the north-east. This wind is said to originate in the sand-hills, called the “Great Erg,” south-west of Tunisia. It blows straight across the desert for over 1800 miles, driving clouds of sand in front of it. There is nothing to obstruct its progress, for no mountains of any consequence lie across its path. Hence this wind appears to be gradually pushing the Sahara further south in the vicinity of Timbuctu. It has probably been the means of isolating the town from the Niger, for it has caused the desert to encroach on the left bank of the river converting the land here into a sandy waste. The sand I had experienced hitherto was nothing compared to the sand at Timbuctu. The streets are several inches deep in soft sand, it is nearly always blowing gales of sand; and as a result of all this every corner of a house and all one’s possessions are invaded by sand. But on account of this dry atmosphere Timbuctu is a very healthy place; sickness of any sort is uncommon, and the natives are said to be remarkable for their longevity.

The only domestic animals seen in the town are camels, horses, and donkeys. There are no cows, sheep, or even goats, for the simple reason that there is nothing for these animals to eat. Camels never stay long at Timbuctu, but are sent out to pasturage some distance away, where there is more desert vegetation. Donkeys seem to live on what they can pick up at Kabara, where they go most days to carry loads. Horses are fed on imported forage.

Camels, of course, come in hundreds to Timbuctu, as they form the bulk of the animal transport for desert caravans. It is a strange sight to watch these hardy desert people, trudging in with their camels from the vast unknown waste, their faces half hidden in cloths to keep out the ever-blowing sand, looking weary and worn after the hardships they have had to endure on the way. Lack of water and want of food, besides the anxieties of keeping the right direction, tell on these men, imprinting on their faces a stern, careworn look. The camels are generally the property of Arabs, either the Kountah tribe, who are the nearest to Timbuctu, or the Berabeesh, who wander farther to the north in the desert. The best animals belong to the latter tribe, possibly because they are farther from the river, and the Niger water does not agree with these animals. Moreover, camels which live near the river naturally get into the habit of drinking more frequently than otherwise, thus losing to a large extent their powers of existing many days without water.

CHAPTER XVIII

Preparing to cross the desert — Articles for barter — My barge — My new “boy” — My crew — Stranded — A miserable people — “Cram-cram” — Borgou — Bamba — Under sail — A variety of game — The defile of Tosaye — The “Oued Telemsi” — A curious coloured clay — Gao — A lazy class — Mosques at Gao — A perilous journey — Giraffe.

ON the 12th of April my barge was to be ready for me at Kabara. I had asked the Commandant to send a telegram to the authorities at Gao, advising them of the probable date of my arrival there, and asking that the necessary camels and guide should be ready for me. I thus hoped to avoid further delay, as time was of such importance to me.

While at Timbuctu I had gleaned some information about the probable line of wells I should follow from Gao, for I had not previously studied this part of the Sahara, but only that portion I had intended to cross from Timbuctu in accordance with my original plans. The information at Timbuctu even was very scanty, and I was told that before arriving at Gao it would not be possible to find out any more.

Before leaving Timbuctu I arranged for the despatch of the heads and skins I had collected since leaving Bamako. They were consigned to a French firm, who agreed to have them sent through their head establishment in France to my home address. They would, of course, go up the Niger and down the Senegal River to the coast. On arriving at Bamako I had similarly arranged for the despatch of the trophies I had collected on my way from Sierra Leone. As the Senegal River would be at its driest during the next three or four months, it was probable that my things would not arrive in England for several months.

Another important matter was to cash my drafts at Timbuctu before leaving, and to lay in a supply of the most useful articles for barter en route. Below Timbuctu very little money is used on the Niger. Salt and a blue cotton stuff are in great requisition for the purchase of anything. The cotton stuff is called “guinée” by the French. If it is required to buy a fowl or sheep the procedure is to break off a piece of salt from one of the big bars or to tear off a small portion of the “guinée” and give that in exchange for the article to be purchased. The “guinée” is measured in “coudées,” or forearm lengths. Between Gao and Timbuctu a sheep can be bought for two or three “coudées,” but as one gets farther from the river, on entering the desert, the price of everything naturally rises rapidly, while in many places even untold “guinée coudées” will not tempt the native to part with his produce.

I therefore converted a portion of my cash into salt and “guinée.” I was also advised to get in a stock of a certain kind of food which is very useful in the desert and not obtainable at Gao. This is called “couscous.” It consists merely of the wheat used for Timbuctu bread, prepared in a particular way. The wheat is unhusked and then steamed for some hours. It is dry and very portable, at the same time it softens quickly in a little water, and is easily digested. “Couscous” can be carried in a bag slung across a camel, and will keep for months in this manner. Frequently there is not time to stop for a meal in the desert, when a handful of “couscous” can be conveniently moistened in a tumbler of water without dismounting from the camel. I took a large quantity with me and found it invaluable. It lasted me all the way across the Sahara.

My barge was about sixty feet long, with a well-covered portion, about thirty feet long, in the centre, in which I lived. The rest of the space was for the crew and my servant. I had my bed pitched in one end of my room, my baggage being arranged all around it, while the table was in the centre. There was plenty of room, and it was not uncomfortable. The covering was made of strong palm-thatch, and was high enough to give plenty of space for a man to stand upright in the room underneath.

The barge was worked by a crew of eight and a boatswain. They generally used poles, but sometimes paddled the craft.

In the early morning, until the sun got too hot, I used to sit on the top of my awning with my shot-gun and rifle beside me, often getting a shot at a bird or crocodile. It was very pleasant in the fresh morning air, watching the changing scenery as we glided steadily past the banks. In the middle of the day I used to halt, near a village if possible, for lunch. This plan gave the crew a rest, and was welcomed by everyone as a chance of getting ashore. In the evening I also used to halt for dinner, but it was then often dark before we got ashore.

Sometimes, when the banks were favourable, we would tie a rope on to the mast and tow the barge, while the boatswain sat at the rudder, shouting out directions to the men on the tow-line. During the heat of the day, when sitting in my room, I found ample time for, and occupation in writing up my notes, which had not had as careful attention as I could have wished while I was hunting in the “Bend” of the Niger. I cannot say that I ever found the time hanging heavily on my hands, although, of course, there were moments when I should have been very glad of a companion.

At Timbuctu I had not been sorry to part with my servant Mamadu, and had got a far better “boy” in his place. My new factotum was called Musa. He was a Hausa from the Zaberma country, north-west of Northern Nigeria, who had for a time been employed by a French officer at Timbuctu, but was now out of work. Besides being a better and more trustworthy servant, he had some experience of the desert. He had been for two years the “boy” of Commandant Gadel, a distinguished French officer, who had travelled considerably in the Eastern Sahara. Musa was a hard-working and devoted “boy.” He had some fairly rough times while in the desert with me, and bore all the hardships and discomforts uncomplainingly. He was a fine type of native, standing a little over six feet, with a broad chest and sturdy arms, and, like most Hausas, was an excellent marcher, a most indispensable asset for my servant.

My crew were Bambaras, who are preferred by the French as boatmen on their Niger craft. They are very strong, and wonderfully enduring. My crew worked day and night for seven days continuously. By day the whole crew were on duty, while at night they worked in two reliefs, one half resting and the other half working. We seldom halted for more than three hours per diem—an hour at midday and two hours in the evening—so that they really had very little rest.

The Bambaras hold the Sonrhais in great contempt, forgetful of the day when the Sonrhay was a far more powerful individual than was the Bambara, and, indeed, held many of that race in slavery. But times had changed, and it was amusing to hear the scathing remarks of my boatswain as we passed a Sonrhay canoe or habitation. He used to say they were a miserable people, more like sheep than men, because they ate grass growing on the Niger banks! The Bambaras are rather proud and great spendthrifts. They like to live on the fat of the land, considering a man who is content with humbler diet as a miserable creature, not even worthy of pity.

The first few miles of the journey after leaving Kabara lay through a shallow stream, which was the waterway connecting Kabara with the Niger on the east. This stream was so shallow that we had considerable difficulty in moving at all. The barge only drew about nine inches of water, but in spite of this she kept on sticking on the mud. When this happened the crew had to get out and push until we got clear. Progress was very slow. Finally, about half a mile before reaching the Niger, there was practically no water at all. Our efforts to move the barge were fruitless, and unless we got help we seemed likely to stick for months, until the water rose. Accordingly, I sent some of the crew to seek out the nearest village and bring assistance. It took some fifty men to get us out of our difficulties, and then it was only effected by digging a trench under the barge, through which she was hauled by the triumphant, yelling mob of natives.

Owing to the delay caused by the shallow water our progress that day was not great. In twelve hours we had only covered eight miles. But during the remainder of the voyage we averaged thirty-five miles in the twenty-four hours. As this included a halt of about three hours daily, and only half the crew were at work during the night, the result was not bad.

The whole way down the river from Kabara to Gao the banks are populated by Sonrhais. I must own to rather agreeing with my friend the Bambara boatswain. These people are certainly very wretched specimens of humanity. The Sonrhais on this portion of the Niger seem to have degenerated more than those whom I had hitherto met. They are absolutely poverty-stricken, and apparently make no effort to ameliorate their position. They possess practically no cattle or sheep, but live on rotting fish and grass. The former is in great evidence all down the Niger. There are tanks where the fish are caught, and drying-places close by. In the latter the fish are left to rot, when they are taken away and eaten. The stench from these places is truly disgusting. Even the Bambaras used to turn up their noses at it.

The grass they eat is of two kinds—the “borgou,” with which I was now so familiar, and which is eaten raw or in a kind of soup, and “cram-cram.” “Cram-cram” is a grass peculiar to desert vegetation; it is intensely prickly, and it is the seed of this that is boiled and eaten by the Sonrhais of this locality. “Cram-cram” is a very nourishing seed, I was given to understand. The flocks of the desert are very partial to this grass, as are also camels. It has the annoying habit of sticking to one’s legs as one walks through it, just as burrs do in England. “Cram-cram” is worse, however, than a burr, because it breaks up into countless little prickles, each one so fine that it can hardly be seen. These prickles have points as sharp as a needle, which stick into the fingers of the hapless victim, and are hard to extract because they are so hard to locate. I once saw a French officer who had a little dog which was suffering from “cram-cram.” The poor little creature was in tortures, and unable to withdraw these miniature daggers from his toes. It took some time and patience on our part before we could relieve him of all of them.

In some places we would pass a temporary village of Fulanis, who had come down to the water-side to allow their cattle to graze on the luxuriant “borgou.” Occasionally, also, we would see an encampment of Tuaregs, who had selected this spot as favourable for their flocks of sheep and goats. These people generally stay on the higher ground to the north of the river, but, at this season, when the grass is scorched by the hot sun and grazing is poor for their animals, they approach the Niger in order to find pasturage for their flocks.

The river here is more than half a mile wide in its navigable channel, but there are besides several hundred yards of “borgou” swamps on either side. Near the villages a channel is cut through this stuff, by which canoes can approach. Otherwise it forms an impenetrable mass on the edges of the water. In the hot season the “borgou” is left isolated, as the river falls, until it dies away for want of moisture; for water is a necessity to the existence of this grass.

On the left bank the desert seems to commence almost as soon as the water is left. Stretches of sand, with a little stunted vegetation, characterize the country on this side of the Niger. The ground rises in a series of parallel sand-dunes towards the interior. On the right bank there is more vegetation, and apparently more human life.

On the 15th we arrived at the post of Bamba. This little place is practically the most northern point of the “Bend” of the Niger. For this reason it has been a favourite objective for the marauding bands of the desert in the past, and, even now, is sometimes descended on by a party of these intrepid highwaymen should they find a good opportunity. It is naturally easier for them to raid the place geographically nearest their desert wilds, and then to escape before retribution is visited upon them. At Bamba there are a French Commissioner and a European in charge of the Post and Telegraph Office. One curious feature of Bamba is the existence of a few date palms. These were planted by the Moors during their occupation of the country about a.d. 1500, and are practically the only ones in the Western Soudan. Dates seen in the country are generally imported from the oases of the Sahara, many hundred miles to the northward. Here, much to the delight of my crew, I gave them a present of a sheep, and made a longer halt than usual that evening to give them time to cook it.

The Commissioner, with whom I had dined, came down to the river to see me off, as I started about 9 p.m.

The effects of a heavy meal of sheep had evidently been too much for my Bambaras, for I found them one and all sleeping soundly and snoring lustily. We had great difficulty in arousing them from their torpor, so that it was considerably after the appointed hour when we got under way. There was a fair breeze blowing, of which we took advantage to hoist our sail. The river in this section runs almost due east, and as the wind is usually from the east or north-east, we had not previously had an opportunity of trying to sail. Under the starry sky we sped rapidly along, and I sat outside for some time, enjoying the cool air and the beautiful tropical night. In the early morning the wind shifted to its accustomed quarter, and we found ourselves opposed by a strong easterly gale. Generally speaking, this wind lasted from 5 a.m. till 11 a.m., and we made but little progress during these hours. Small wavelets would play over the face of the Niger, and a heavy spray would be blown on board.

The river was now at its widest, and from shore to shore must have been well over three miles. How strange it seemed to look at this vast, broad stream and to think of its appearance when I first saw it at its birth, near the Tembikunda Mountains. It had travelled far since those days, having covered about 1200 miles. This portion of the river contains many islands, which are covered by water when the Niger rises, but are the habitation of Fulani and Tuareg with their herds and flocks at this time of the year. Landing on these islands for the evening halt, one was always sure of finding some duck and teal in the ponds and swamps upon them.

The red-fronted gazelle and kob are plentiful. The former is found chiefly on the left bank, as being more sandy and desert-like, while the latter has its favourite haunts on the right bank, where the marshy ground is suited to its habits. On the left bank I was informed there were giraffe, but I never saw their tracks. I think, however, that it is very probable giraffe are found between Bamba and Bourem, where the country seems well suited to them. Senegal haartebeest are on both banks. In the river there are a few hippo pools, but hippopotami did not seem as plentiful here as they had been higher up the Niger. The stately marabout and the picturesque crown-bird were both familiar objects on the Niger landscape. The latter bird was particularly common about here, and was easy to approach. The crown-bird, or crested crane, is certainly one of the handsomest birds found on this part of the Niger, for its fine plumage and quaint straw-coloured crest at once distinguish it from the ordinary waterfowl here seen.

On the 16th of April, about 7 a.m., we approached the Defile of Tosaye. This was rather an interesting point in the Niger scenery, for here, for the first time since the Rapids of Kienefala, near Bamako, the river gathers a more rapid current. On the whole the Niger current is sluggish, as the fall of the land from the Tembikunda Mountains to the sea is so gradual. But at Tosaye the stream is forced through a narrow defile, and the water, which just before was spread over a breadth of at least two miles, is compressed into a width of 500 to 600 yards. The rush of water is remarkable in comparison to the slow, steady flow to which we had so long been accustomed.

The entrance to the defile is a pretty sight. On either side there begins to appear a low ridge of laterite rocks, which gradually rises to a height of forty feet above the level of the stream, in a precipitous mass. The whole length of the defile is three miles, while three distinct rocky barriers cross the river transversely. These transverse barriers render navigation dangerous and arduous. A fourth barrier, passing longitudinally up and down stream, divides the waterway into two nearly equal passages. The current flows at a rate of six to eight knots an hour at this time of year, but when the river is in full flood the rush of water must be tremendous. In the channels themselves there are numerous jagged rocks projecting, or half-hidden under water. Navigation, therefore, is a risky business, and the frail native canoes often get dashed to pieces against one of them. There is an old French fort, at a bend in the defile, perched on the top of the rocks on the right bank. The place is now disused, but was built originally to command the Tosaye defile when the French first occupied this portion of the country. Except for this narrow fringe of rocks on each side, the country is of a sandy nature, covered with the usual sparse, desert-like vegetation.

On emerging from the defile the transition is almost as rapid as it was on entering Tosaye, for the rocks rapidly disappear, the river quickly resumes its former width, and the current reverts to its normal pace.

About twenty miles below Tosaye is the post of Bourem. The chief interest of Bourem lies in the fact that it is at the mouth of the “Wad Telemsi,” or “Oued Telemsi.” This is a dried-up watercourse, descending from the heart of the Sahara to the River Niger. In olden times it must have been an important tributary of the river, but now water does not flow in it above the surface; below the surface, however, there is water, and for this reason there is a well-defined line of wells along the watercourse, and it forms a trade route for caravans travelling from the Sahara to the Niger. It follows that Bourem is a place frequented by caravans, although it is not of much importance in itself, and these caravans merely use it as a halting-place en route to the bigger markets of Gao or Timbuctu.

At Bourem there is found a curious coloured clay, which is used for houses. There are three colours of this clay, pink, violet, and white. The town itself lies up a small branch of the Niger, about five miles from the main stream. When the river is at its fullest the main stream covers all the intervening land, making one wide expanse of water with its small branch, and, at this period, Bourem has the Niger flowing at its very walls. The town is built on a high rise of ground, so is at all times clearly visible from the Niger.

Soon after leaving Tosaye and before arriving at Bourem, the river takes a decided turn south-east, as it enters on its course down the big “Bend.” Between this point and a prominent spur on the left bank, called Mount Tondibi, the width again increases to over four miles. As Gao is approached the width decreases to about two miles, and the channel is interrupted by several islands and large masses of “borgou.” On the right bank a ridge of sand-hills makes its appearance, running close to the water’s edge. This part of the country is the centre of a large rice-growing population, the quality of whose rice, if not the quantity, compares favourably with that grown in Macina.

At the landing-stage at Gao I was met by a French officer, who conducted me to the Commandant. As it was late that evening the Commandant would not hear of business being discussed till the following day. I was given a comfortable dwelling in the officers’ mess quarters, who, with their usual hospitality, insisted on my remaining their guest during my stay at Gao. On landing at Gao the first sight which strikes the visitor is a number of huge skulls of elephant, set up on high pedestals, adorning the front of the fort. These animals have been shot at various times by the officers stationed at Gao, and their skulls have been put to this rather singular use. Gao is quite the best planned station on the Upper and Middle Niger. A fine avenue of trees has been planted along the river bank; behind this lie the Commandant’s house, the fort, and the native quarter respectively. The native quarter has been built some distance away from the Europeans’ houses, so that there is a fine open space between them. The houses are substantially built, with big rooms and lofty flat roofs. The desert is behind the town, so that its well-to-do appearance is all the more striking.

I came across a class of people here whom I had not previously met. These were the Armas. They are a fusion of the Moorish and Sonrhay races, and are found in small groups between Bamba and Gao. Apparently they are a lazy, good-for-nothing people, who consider themselves superior to the Sonrhais and refuse to work. Now that slavery and serfdom are rapidly dying out, this tribe will find existence somewhat difficult unless they change their habits. The officer administering Gao told me he had given them notice that if they did not shortly show some intention of working he would turn them out of the town. In appearance they are more like the Moors than the Sonrhais, but are darker than the former. They have their own quarter in the place, and also have a mosque to themselves.

There are two fine mosques at Gao, one of which is three centuries old.

At Gao I used to stroll in the evening on the flat roof of my abode and gaze over the vast desert stretched out in front of me, wondering what adventures that solemn, forbidding expanse held in store for me.

The Commandant had arranged for camels for me and a guide, but they would not be ready for a few days, so I had a little time to complete my preparations. In the meantime the Commandant did his best to dissuade me from attempting to cross the desert, wishing me to return to Europe through Dahomey, which was the quickest way from Gao. His reasons were that my journey would be difficult and dangerous, and my chances of arriving at the other end of the Sahara in safety were remote. He said that quite recently they had had reports of the movement of a marauding party of Arabs who were within easy reach of the line of wells I should probably follow. Further, there was a bad stretch of desert to be crossed, called the Tanezrouft, in which there were no wells for seven days, and, at this hot season of the year, the passage of this waterless tract would be particularly arduous. I dare say he felt that it was his duty to try to dissuade me from my enterprise, and probably thought besides that he might be held responsible should any mishap befall me.

With some difficulty I explained that before leaving Sierra Leone I was aware of the hardships and dangers likely to be encountered, and that I should be extremely foolish to turn back at this point of my travels. Moreover, having obtained permission for the journey, I had no intention of abandoning it now. I think he was finally convinced that I was firm in my resolves, and he then gave up further attempts to shake them. To avoid any possibility of blame being attached to him in the event of any accident to me, I signed a paper stating that he had tried to make me abandon my desert journey, but in spite of his warnings I had decided to carry it out. He was particularly distressed because he could not send an escort with me, for in the hot season most of the camels of his troops were out at pasturage, and many had not recovered from their hard work of the previous cold season. However, I told him I had never expected to have an escort, and he must not be anxious on that account. As it happened, he was sending some stores and ammunition to a French detachment at a place called Kidal, about 170 miles north in the Sahara, and so it was arranged that this escort should accompany me, as Kidal lay on my route.

In the meantime we arranged a small hunting expedition to occupy the time till my camels should be ready. One of the French officers and I planned to go out to a place about one day’s march distant to hunt giraffe.

We pitched our camp a few miles from the Niger on its right bank; it was a place with a reputation for being frequented by giraffe, and I had great hopes of getting a shot at one. The country was of the usual sandy nature, with a certain amount of mimosa and scrubby vegetation. The giraffe is extremely fond of the mimosa tree, so it seemed likely I might find them at their feeding-time about here. This interesting animal is very hard to see, as its curious speckled colour assimilates well with the sandy surroundings, while its long neck peeps through the leafy top of a mimosa and is hardly discernible. Giraffes come down to the Niger to drink at night, returning before dawn to their feeding-grounds in the interior, and for this reason they are difficult to come across. Besides, they are very shy. A giraffe will usually perceive you long before you have perceived him, and he can travel both fast and far in a day. A curious fact about the giraffe near Gao is that they are said often to break the telegraph wire with their long necks as they go down to the Niger to drink, for they do not notice the thin wire as they pass it.

It seems a pity that large numbers of these giraffe are slaughtered annually by the natives for their skins, which are used to make shoe-soles, purses, etc. The giraffe is only found in comparatively few places now, and it is to be feared that it will soon be exterminated in this part of Africa, should stringent measures not be adopted to prevent its wholesale massacre. The giraffe here seemed generally to be in small numbers. I never noticed the tracks of more than three together. In those cases there seemed to be one a great deal smaller than the other two, which makes one imagine that they do not breed much, there being only one baby in most of these families. The natives hunt giraffe on horseback, pursuing them many miles inland until they get weary, when they are easier to approach. A horse will generally wear down a giraffe, although the latter has a greater turn of speed.

Our camp at Gangaber was suddenly broken up by the news that the camels and guide would be ready two days sooner than I had expected, so we returned to Gao at once without getting a shot at giraffe.

CHAPTER XIX

Loading a camel — Water vessels — My camels — My caravan — Nomads of the Sahara — Vegetation of the desert — Country of the Kountahs — Line of wells — Rainfall — My tent — Gazelle — Fowls of the desert — A trying march — Ill-used animals — How to mount a camel — Moroseness of the camel — Vagaries of the camel — An unpleasant feature — Uncomfortable riding.

THE preparations to be made for a journey across the Sahara are many, as I soon found out at Gao. It was not merely a question of arranging for the hire of camels and the services of a guide, but various other points wanted careful attention.

To start with, the baggage had to be made up in loads suitable for camel transport, and, naturally, on a pack animal a far more accurate adjustment of weights is necessary than is the case with carriers. Besides, I found that cases of provisions, my tin travelling bath, and even my camp table (Uganda pattern), were the reverse of being comfortable loads on the desert camel, although they had been very compact for transport on porters’ heads. All these things had to be either left behind or put into leathern bags, called “mesoued.” A bag is quite the easiest form of baggage for a camel to carry. Two of these can be slung over the pack-saddle, and the weights easily adjusted by taking something out of the heavier and adding it to the lighter one. No ropes are necessary to tie a “mesoued” on to the saddle, while boxes and such-like loads have to be strapped round with cords, and tied on to hooks on the pack-saddle. These ropes, however strong, break sooner or later, with the result that your cases fall with a crash to the ground and the contents are probably scattered in all directions.

As this was my first experience of the desert I had to learn all these little points, but, fortunately for me, my French friends helped me with much practical advice, making my task much easier. I had to retain some of my cases, however, as sufficient bags were not forthcoming, and I rather unwisely decided to retain my bath. Although water would be scarce on the way, I could not help thinking that the luxury of a bath when I did arrive at a well would be too great to forego!

I replenished my stock of rice so as to have sufficient to ration my servant and guide, and at the same time I carefully overhauled my tinned provisions. My supply of the latter was decidedly low, but there were no means of increasing it now; besides, I had made up my mind to live on the simplest fare, such as farinaceous food, in order not to augment unduly the number of camels in my caravan by having too many loads. I had, however, to arrange for sufficient rations to last till my arrival at Insalah, in about seven weeks’ time. I was informed that at the oasis of Insalah I should be able to reprovision myself for the remainder of the desert journey.

Another most important item for consideration was the means for carrying water. Big glass demijohns are impracticable in the desert. They make the water hot, and are extremely likely to break, should a camel drop its load, or even if the beast should knock up against one of his fellows, in his usual clumsy manner. The French use two kinds of water-carriers. The one mostly used, and invariably used by the nomads of the desert, is a leather water-skin, called “guerba,” which is generally porous, and therefore leaks to a certain extent, but keeps the water cool, and is easily slung on a camel’s back.

The other kind is an iron or aluminium cylindrical vessel, which can be locked if necessary, and cannot break. The water therein contained gets very hot, but is never wasted as in a “guerba.” I was obliged to take “guerbas,” as no metal carriers were available. And I provided myself with eight of these.

In connection with the subject of water, which is, indeed, the vital item in desert marches, I had to arrange to have some means of drawing water from a well. This is a more serious problem than may be thought, for wells in the Sahara are often seventy yards or more deep. In one case I recollect there was a well over 330 feet deep! To draw water from such a depth a long rope of hide is required, at the end of which is attached a leather bucket, called “délou.” Spare material of all kinds must be carried, as a caravan must be absolutely self-contained from start to finish, and any omissions in calculating requisite stores are likely to be heavily paid for in the desert.

All gear has to be thoroughly tested as to its strength and durability before embarking on a journey, and this is a matter to be attended to personally, for a native cannot be trusted.

Of course, two most important items are the camels and the guide. My animals belonged to the Kountah Arabs, who wander in that part of the Sahara north of Gao, while the guide was also a Kountah Arab, named Sidi Mahomed. I had a second guide for the journey as far as Kidal, a Tuareg, from the Ifora country, through which I should pass.

The camels were rather a sorry-looking lot of animals, whose aspect was not reassuring to a person about to start on a long desert march, but the Kountah chief, from whom I hired them, vouched for their ability to take me and my belongings safely to Kidal. I had no intention of keeping these camels or the guides beyond Kidal, but would hire a fresh caravan there. The Commandant kindly helped in this matter by sending a camel-runner in advance to the officer commanding the post at Kidal, to prepare camels and a guide for me. These camel-couriers travel much faster than a caravan. We calculated to take twelve days over the journey, whereas he would accomplish it in five or six. The courier’s mount is a fast-trotting camel, which at a pinch can cover about fifty miles a day.