As I took my way into the forest soon after daybreak I felt that sense of exhilaration that accompanies a settled purpose. The building of the house had been a necessary labour, but it had delayed me and hindered the execution of my plans. Now I was to begin the actual building of the canoe, and with the commencement of this work my deliverance seemed to come within measurable distance.
The forest is a boat-builder’s paradise. Whatever kind of timber is required, whether large or small, curved or straight, it is to be had for the cutting. The great trees—which did not concern me—tower aloft and spread their crowns of foliage like flat-topped umbrellas, two hundred feet from the ground; and towards the chinks of sky between their giant canopies, multitudes of saplings of all sizes crane up, as smooth, as straight, and as slender as fishing-rods, while lianas or creepers, varying from the thickness of a pack-thread to that of a man’s thigh, hang from tree to tree in great festoons, twining around trunk and branch, and twisting round one another in every conceivable curve and contortion.
If a spar or a straight timber is wanted, all that is necessary is to select a sapling of suitable thickness and cut off the length required, while for a curved timber a liana of the requisite size can be selected and the portion cut out that presents the curve required. On the present occasion I contented myself with the cutting of a good bundle of stout straight rods and a quantity of thin liana to serve as cordage, devoting myself especially to a critical examination of the trees viewed in the light of boat-building material, and I was relieved at meeting with no less than three specimens of the Hon-ton tree, any two of which would, on a pinch, have yielded sufficient bark to cover my canoe.
My first labour, on returning with my load of poles, was to erect a set of four trestles, forming a rough staging on which to build the canoe and from which to launch it when it was finished; and in order to render the launch more easy I made the “ways” with a slight slope towards the water. The place where the staging was erected was by a small bay at the bottom of the valley in which my house was situated—indeed, the ways were only a dozen yards from the door of the house. Here the ground was somewhat swampy and was evidently submerged during the rainy season, so I felt secure against the attacks of the white ants, which, in a drier situation, might have come up in the night and devoured both staging and canoe.
This work, with the necessary intervals for attending to my fishing lines, cooking the fish, and preparing firewood, took up most of the day, and I determined to devote the remainder to felling a young Odúm tree that I had noted growing near the middle of the island. It stood some fifty feet high, and was nine or ten inches in diameter at the base—a considerable thickness to hack through with a knife, especially as the wood is very hard and tough; but it had a fine crown of branches at its summit, which would furnish nearly all the straight wood that I should want, so the labour of felling it would be well spent. However, the darkness came when I had hacked but half through the trunk, and I had to leave it to finish on the morrow.
That night, as I sat by the firelight in my house, I continued to perfect the design of my canoe; but also I gave some serious thought to the question of food, for the diet of fish was becoming excessively distasteful, to say nothing of the shortness of the supply. I was loth to waste my precious time in seeking provisions, but, I must be fed or I could not work; so at last I reluctantly made up my mind to give up the ensuing day, or part of it, to a search for fresh food.
Accordingly, on the following morning, after setting my lines and making up the fire, I sharpened my spear upon a slab of sandstone that I had picked up in the bed of the river, and crossed the shallows to the side of the river that was most distant from the hill. Plunging at once into the forest, I went forward softly, peering in all directions and keeping a careful eye upon the shadows so that I should not lose my way. It was a most tantalising place to a hungry man, for it abounded in game, and fruit was fairly plentiful; but the game—mostly hornbills and parrots—was up in the far-away tree-tops, and the fruit was all strange, and I dared not taste it lest it should be poisonous. Presently, however, I had a stroke of luck, for I came to a tree the trunk of which was covered with a trailing vine bearing numbers of globular fruit somewhat like oranges. I was much tempted to try one of these, and was standing before them irresolute, with watering mouth, when a pair of Diana monkeys came down the creeper, hand over hand, and each picked one of the fruit and retreated to the top regions, where I saw them seat themselves on a branch and nibble off pieces of peel which they spat down on to me. Concluding that what was wholesome for a monkey could not be poisonous to me, I cut off a couple of branches, each bearing a bunch of the fruit, and dropping one bunch into my pocket sat down among the roots of a tree to breakfast off the remaining bunch. As I proceeded with my meal I noticed that a thick milky juice was exuding freely from the cut end of the branch, and before I had finished eating, this sap had begun to grow thicker and more tenacious. Much interested, I was examining the sticky exudation more closely when my attention was diverted by the sound of something moving among the bushes.
I listened. Something—beast or human—was certainly approaching, and was not far off. Very silently I rose to my feet and stood close against the tree, stealthily peeping round the shaded side. As I did so I saw, on a patch of bare earth, a shadow, the appearance of which startled me considerably for the moment, for it exactly resembled the head of the horned image near the Aboási pool. It was not the Sakrobundi devil, however, as I immediately realised, but an antelope with curved horns—probably the demon’s prototype.
I stepped back a pace and stood with my spear poised ready to throw. The shadow came nearer, vanished for a space, and then reappeared on the other side of the tree. A second later the animal’s head appeared, and instantly I flung the spear with all my strength.
The startled beast leaped into the air and bounded away among the bushes with the spear hanging from its neck. I darted after it, and a few paces forward picked up the spear, while I could hear the wounded animal crashing through the undergrowth ahead. The pursuit was not difficult, for the track was marked by great pools of blood, and I had not gone much more than a quarter of a mile when I came upon my victim lying upon the ground dead.
Very fortunately for me, the animal in its flight had gone straight towards the river and had fallen within fifty yards of the bank, so that, when I had ascertained my position, I was able to drag the carcase to the water and tow it down to the island, where I eventually got it ashore close to the staging.
The skinning and cutting-up of the antelope was a formidable task, for the beast was nearly as large as a red stag, and I was considerably exercised in my mind as to how I should dispose of so much meat; for the flies had scented it already, and in the damp heat of the forest it would hardly keep twenty-four hours. At last it occurred to me to hang the joints up in the fire hut, which was always full of smoke and very dry, in the hope that they would become cured, and this plan I adopted, to the disappointment of the flies. In the afternoon I finished felling the Odúm tree, and selected two of its stoutest branches to form the inside keel or kelson of the canoe. These I cut off, so as to leave each one with about two feet of the main stem attached to it, forming an L-piece, which I intended to make into the stem-post and stern-post respectively.
That night I made an interesting discovery. I had dined sumptuously off a lump of grilled venison, and was clearing up the debris, when I bethought me of the fruit with which my pockets still bulged, and endeavoured to pull out the bunch. But it would not come out. A quantity of the milky sap had exuded and, solidifying, had cemented the branch so firmly to the inside of the pocket that I had to turn the latter inside out and cut the stalk free; and when I came to examine the cut surface of the cement I found, to my joy, that it was rubber. My hunting expedition had been a fortunate one indeed, for here was an ideal material with which to make my canoe watertight.
During the following week I worked steadily at the canoe, cutting and shaping the sticks for the frame, and lashing them together by the daylight, and reserving for the evening such tasks as could be done by the light of the fire. These included the making of a few simple tools; for instance, finding that lashings alone would hardly make the frame sufficiently rigid, I determined to fasten the larger timbers together with wooden pegs or “treenails” in addition, and to this end I took my smaller knife out of its handle and sharpened its tang to make a boring tool. Then the treenails themselves had to be cut and shaped, and a mallet made to drive them in with, and in addition, the sticks for the ensuing day’s work had to have their bark peeled off, which bark I tore into narrow strips and twisted into cord for lashings. Finally, I had to make a measuring rule, which I did by marking my own height upon a long rod, adding two inches to make it six feet, and then dividing it up into equal parts with the aid of a piece of cord. So that my evenings were as busy as my days, and I usually turned in early, thoroughly tired.
My well-stocked larder relieved me of any immediate anxiety on the score of food—for the meat became admirably dried and cured in the smoky fire-hut; but I made few demands on my store, since, in the course of some experiments upon the rubber vines, I produced an elastic cord with which I was able to make an excellent catapult, a weapon with which I had been very skilful as a boy; and as pebbles were plentiful in the river bed, I was able to supply most of my wants by this means.
Every morning, as a rule, I made a short journey into the forest for the purpose of marking the position of any rubber vines or Hon-ton trees, so that when I was ready to use them there should be no delay. The vines were fairly abundant, and I found also several other rubber-bearing trees and creepers, so that I did not anticipate any difficulty in obtaining as much rubber as I should want; while as to the Hon-ton or bark trees, a couple would have been enough, and I had marked at least a dozen. From these expeditions I generally brought back a parrot or two, a hornbill, turakow, or other bird, and sometimes a small animal such as a squirrel or a pangolin, and one day I speared a porcupine. Monkeys I could have knocked down with my catapult by the dozen, but I had conscientious scruples (for blood is thicker than water), and avoided any nearer approach to cannibalism than the killing and eating of a potto.
At the end of the week’s work the canoe had made considerable progress. The keel was laid, the stem and stern-posts shaped and strengthened with angle pieces, and the principal ribs or timbers of the midship portion fixed to the keel with tree-nails and strong lashings. The gunwales were also in position, the ends of the ribs joined by cross-bars or deck beams, and on either side of the main kelson (or inner keel) was another, rather lighter one at a distance of twelve inches, so that the floor of the boat would be very strong and rigid.
Before the close of the second week the frame was finished, and very ship-shape it looked. I had at first had some misgivings as to the strength of a boat put together in this way, but I had none now, for although the separate timbers (excepting the kelson) were light and flexible, their number made the construction immensely strong. There were twenty-four ribs on each side, those of the midship portion being in one piece from gunwale to gunwale, and made of curved pieces of tough, springy liana; and the ends of all of them were joined by transverse bars or deck beams, excepting where the opening of the well would be. The ribs were fixed by eight stringers of hard wood on each side, in addition to the gunwales, running from stem to stern and fastened to the stem and stern posts. The fittings, too, were now nearly complete, for the long hours of darkness gave me plenty of time to work at them. The rudder (of the drop pattern like that of a lifeboat) was ready to fix on; four anchors, or rather grapnels, had been made from the hard stem of a bush which bore its branches in whorls of four, and now, with their shanks weighted with stones and their cables of liana secured, were ready for use. Two leeboards of framed sticks covered with bark, a seven foot mast, and the yard and boom were completed, and the fashioning of the paddle—the most arduous task of all—had been commenced. And besides all this, I had accumulated a quantity of liana cordage and a good length of rope made by plaiting strands of fibrous bark.
The most difficult part of the work had now to be attacked—the covering of the frame with its “skin.” The method by which I proposed to do this was to turn the frame bottom upwards and lay the sheets of bark upon it, cutting them to the shape and sewing their edges together with an overlap. Then, when the entire shell or skin was made, I intended to bring the edges together upon the deck with a lacing that I could tighten as the bark stretched until the covering was strained on tightly enough to be permanently fastened.
I spent two whole days tediously stripping the white canvas-like bark from one of the trees that I had marked, and after this I usually devoted half the day to collecting the bark, and the remainder to fitting it to the frame; until I found I had accumulated more material than I was likely to use, and was able to give up the entire day to the work of fitting.
During all this time I had seen but a single human being—a hunter whom I had espied in the forest one morning without being observed by him—and I had marvelled more and more at the absolute desolation of this out-of-the-way corner of the wilderness. But the sense of security that had, in consequence, grown up in me now received a severe shock; for one afternoon, as I was stitching away busily and whistling cheerfully over my work, I was startled by the unmistakable sound of voices. Quickly dropping my needle, I crept up on to the higher ground and peered through the bushes, when, to my horror, I saw two men—apparently hunters—cautiously wading across towards the island, and looking about them very warily. No doubt they had heard my whistling, and had come across to investigate.
For a moment I was doubtful how to act, but as their manner showed hesitation and a little alarm, I thrust my fingers into my mouth and blew a loud shrill whistle; whereupon they turned about, and waded back without any hesitation at all, and disappeared quickly into the forest.
For the time, then, the situation was saved, but the incident caused me very grave anxiety. These men had been easily enough frightened away, but they would talk of what they had heard, and some bolder spirits might come—probably would come, in fact—and in more formidable numbers. With my imperfect weapons I could hardly keep an armed party at bay, and “war palaver” was the very last thing to be desired; besides, the visitors might call in my absence.
In great perplexity I pondered upon the problem as I paced up and down before my house. At length I received a suggestion from an unexpected quarter. In a moment of idleness I had taken the skull of the antelope from the river, where the fish had picked it clean, and fixed it as an ornament above my door; and happening now to glance at it in passing, and again being struck by its resemblance to the image by the pool, I suddenly conceived the idea of sheltering myself behind the superstitions of these forest natives. I remembered the effect the encounter with that hideous effigy had had upon Alhassan—Mahommedan as he was; doubtless upon an actual worshipper of the river god the effect would have been even greater.
Then why should I not turn river god myself? No place of residence could be more appropriate to such a deity than the island on which I lived.
I sniggered a good deal at the notion, which nevertheless commended itself to my judgment; and as the light was waning, I hastily collected the materials for manufacturing a suitable “make up,” and took them into the house. They consisted of a length of curved timber, left over from the canoe frame, a quantity of odds and ends of fibre that had been cut off in sewing the bark together, and one or two furry skins of animals that I had eaten; and with these I spent a busy evening by the firelight preparing for my apotheosis on the morrow.
But when the morrow came, and I looked at the absurd productions of my labour—which appeared for all the world like the properties from some amateur pantomime—I was inclined to pitch them into the river, so preposterous did the whole thing seem. The “make up” included a cap or wig of mixed fur and rubbed fibre, very flowing and dishevelled, to which was attached a pair of curved horns of hard wood and a beard that concealed the fastenings. I had also made a kilt of the same materials, as I should have to discard my clothes—which, indeed, would be little loss, for they were by this time a mere archipelago of holes.
Presently I summoned up courage to try the ridiculous things on, and when I had tied the wig securely in its place and exchanged my rags for the kilt, I went round to the little bay, and stooping over the bank, examined my reflection in the still water. The hideousness of my appearance quite startled me, and I realised for the first time how haggard and emaciated I had become with all this hard work, anxiety, and low diet; and as the wig caused me little discomfort and the kilt none at all, I decided to keep them on for the present.
I had hardly made this resolution when I caught the sound of voices, and on mounting the ridge, I could see through the bushes a party of six men on the opposite bank. I thought I could recognise two of them as my friends of the previous day, and these were pointing at the island and talking in loud, excited tones. Then the whole party began to wade slowly across the shallows, each man manifestly endeavouring to be the last of the procession.
As I saw that they must land under a high bank, I crept along the ground to receive them on my domain, and when the leader was within a dozen yards of the island, I slowly reared my head above the bank and fixed him with a stony stare. He did not see me at first, having turned to speak to his comrades; but when he suddenly met my eye, he stopped dead, and stood with mouth agape as though turned into stone. In a few seconds he recovered himself, and turning about, splashed wildly across the river, screeching like a terrified child, and followed closely by his five companions. When they reached the further bank they paused to look back, and I took the opportunity to let myself be seen for a moment as though flitting from one hiding-place to another. A single glance was enough for them, for the instant I appeared they made off at a run.
My visitors, then, were disposed of, at any rate, for some time to come, and, as I returned to my work, I congratulated myself on the brilliant success of my ruse. But yet the old sense of security was destroyed, and I pushed on my labours with anxious impatience. For although it was pretty certain that these men would not again venture near the island, and that all the villagers would give a wide berth to a place haunted by so dreadful a presence, yet the story of the apparition would inevitably become the talk and wonder of the district, and others besides the villagers would hear it. There were the fetish-men in their settlement not two miles away. They might resent the intrusion of an unofficial demon into their jurisdiction, and their expert acquaintance with performances “in character” would probably make them highly suspicious and sceptical, while if the reports represented the island abonsam as having a white skin, they would be likely to connect him with the run-away slave who had cost them so dear. This last consideration was especially disquieting, and it kept me in a continual state of apprehension and watchfulness.
During the afternoon of the day following this incident I put the finishing touches to the covering of the canoe, and slipping it on to the frame, fastened the lacing by which its edges were to be drawn together on the deck. It was not a perfect success, for although it fitted fairly well, there were slack places in which the skin bulged away from the frame. After it had been on an hour or so and the bark had stretched a little, I was able to draw in the lacing somewhat; and this, with some judicious rubbing and stroking, reduced the bulgings appreciably, but still it did not set as smoothly as I had hoped. In the night, however, several showers occurred, and, when I came to examine the canoe in the morning, its skin was as tight as a drumhead, and fitted the frame perfectly; and all that was necessary to maintain this condition was to draw in the lacing as the skin relaxed in drying.
I had now reached the last stage in my labours—the coating of the bark skin with rubber to render it watertight; and if I failed in this, then all my previous work would be wasted, for the canoe would not float ten minutes in its present state.
It was therefore with no little concern and anxiety that I sallied forth into the forest to collect the material for the first trial. I made my way straight to a place where I knew the vines grew in some abundance, and, dragging down one of the long stems, cut it through just above the ground, and hurried back to the island. By the time I arrived, the sap was already becoming thick and sticky, and I had to cut a fresh surface, from which the milky juice exuded freely; and as it oozed out, I let it drip upon the skin of the canoe, spreading it out with a small rag of bark. From time to time as the flow diminished I had to cut away fresh portions of the stem, until the whole was used up, when I ran off to my collecting ground for a fresh supply. It was a tedious and slow business, for after almost a whole day’s work, I had covered not more than nine or ten square feet; and as I estimated the surface of the canoe at from seventy to eighty square feet, this was a painfully small beginning.
However, on coming out the next morning to inspect my work, I was consoled to find that, little as there was done, that little had been done effectually, for the part that I had smeared with the juice was now covered with a moderately thick film of rubber—enough to render it watertight beyond all question. The method was therefore practicable, and the accomplishment of my object was only a question of time, and I set about my day’s task with renewed courage and spirit.
The slowness of the process I managed to remedy materially during the first day’s work by rigging up a light scaffolding over the canoe, from which I could suspend three or four vine-stems at once; and as they dripped much faster when hanging vertically, I could cover the surface with comparative rapidity. The vines, too, turned out to be even more plentiful than I had supposed, so that the work of coating the canoe progressed briskly.
Meanwhile, the evenings’ labours were being carried forward with such good-will that the last of the fittings was well advanced. This was the sail, and a terrible business the cutting out and stitching it had been, for I had had to make it of odd pieces of bark left from the covering of the canoe, and my needles penetrated the tough material with difficulty even when I had made myself a sailmaker’s palm with a plate of bone for a thimble. Still, in spite of all difficulties, the sail had been put together, and now only required to be roped round with a cord of plaited bark fibre to be complete. It is true it was clumsy and ill-shaped, but it was strong and rather large for the size of the canoe—having an area of over thirty square feet—for I reckoned that the great weight of ballast would enable me to carry a good spread of sail.
At length, after six days of unintermitting labour, the coating of the canoe was complete. From stem to stern, from deck to floor, she was covered with a continuous sheet of rubber, smeary and uneven, but unquestionably watertight. Even this, however, I did not intend to take for granted, but proposed on the morrow to ladle some water into her with my brass pan—for I finished the coating just as the light was failing—a proceeding that was rendered unnecessary by a heavy shower in the night. It had been my custom to cover the vessel, when I was not at work, with some thatched frames or hurdles that I had made for the purpose to protect her from the increasingly frequent rain; but this being now no longer necessary, I left her uncovered, with the tilt or apron off the well, and when I came to look at her in the morning she contained two or three inches of water. By hoisting her with levers, and rolling her from side to side, I made this water wash all over the inside, but not a drop came through anywhere. She was as tight as a drum, so I rolled her over, and let the water run out.
I now entered upon the last task of all—the fixing of the outside keel and the fitting of the rudder; and this would be but a short day’s work, since these parts were finished, even to the tree-nails, and ready for fitting.
There were three outside keels, one central and two lateral or “bilge keels,” corresponding to the inside ones, to which they would be fixed by long tree-nails passing through both keels and timbers. They were highly important, as they would protect the skin of the canoe if she ran aground or had to be pulled over an obstruction, and were made accordingly pretty stout and deep. It took me but a short time to fit them on, for the holes were already made in the wood, and it remained only to carefully perforate the skin, lay on the keels, and drive the tree-nails home. The fixing of the rudder was even a simpler matter, for there was nothing to do but to pass the long wooden bolt or pintle through four hardwood eyes—two on the stern-post, and two on the rudder—and fix it there; and when I had done this I stepped back and triumphantly surveyed my handiwork.
The canoe was finished, and ready to commence its voyage. My work was done; the time of waiting was past, and I could, if I pleased, launch my craft, and set out upon my journey this very day. And, indeed, my impatience rather urged me to adopt this course; but, on sober reflection, I resolved to defer the start until daybreak on the morrow. My first day’s journey must needs be a long one, that I might at once get clear of the dangerous neighbourhood of the mine and the fetish priests; and to make possible a long day’s paddling, a good night’s rest was essential. So I commenced in a leisurely way to make my preparations and survey my resources.
On overhauling the contents of the fire-hut, I noted with satisfaction that I had enough provisions to last me a week or ten days, for not only was the antelope practically intact, but I had made small additions to my store from the surplus of my meals. The smoked meat was nearly black, and most unsavoury in appearance, but it was quite sweet, and would now keep as long as I should want it.
Having inspected the provisions, there next arose the question of unearthing the treasure. It ought to be dug up by daylight, for otherwise some portion of it might be overlooked and left behind; but unfortunately, the place in which it was buried was visible from the opposite bank, and my confidence in the solitude of the place had been quite destroyed. Yet there was no help for it; the only thing to be done was to get it over as quickly as possible, and keep a bright look-out.
I made my way to the spot—familiar enough by this time—and taking once more the bearings by the oil palm and the tree, stuck my knife deep into the moss. After one or two probings I felt the blade strike the buried metal, and looking sharply up and down the river to make sure that there were no observers, cut out a large square slab of moss, and turned it back. The ends of a manilla stuck up through the earth, and passing my fingers through the ring I hooked up the first bunch, weighing about twenty pounds. In less than a minute I had three other bunches out of the hole, and with the four I went off to the house, where I deposited them on the floor. The work of disinterring the gold was not a long one, owing to the convenient way in which the manillas were fastened together; in about an hour I had removed the entire treasure, consisting of fifty-seven bunches, and stacked them in a heap at the farther end of the house. Returning after carrying the last load, I probed the ground in all directions to make sure that I had left none behind, and then kicking the earth back into the hole, flung the slab of moss down on to it.
At this moment a loud shout rang out from down the reach, and looking up, I saw a sight at which my heart seemed to stand still. A procession was slowly making its way along the bank towards the island, and the leader, who had already sighted me, was pointing to me, and talking excitedly to his followers. There were ten men, including the leader, all armed with long muskets, and most formidable to look at; while the leader himself was, to me, the most terrifying figure of all, for even at this distance I could see the broad, white bands of his cowrie necklace and amulets, which told me that he was a fetish priest. Almost choking with rage and disappointment, I rushed to the house to arm for the fray, resolved to compel my foes to kill me rather than submit to capture. There lay the heap of gold, a mere mocking illusion, turning to dust and ashes at my touch. There it would presently be found by the fetish-man, while I—Bah! I was too infuriated to pursue the thought. With an oath I snatched up my spear and catapult, and the bag of pebbles that I used when hunting, and rushed out of the house with set teeth, as unpleasant an enemy as any man might desire to meet. I was still wearing my horned wig and kilt—indeed, I had worn them continually since my last encounter, and had become so accustomed to the former, that I ceased to be conscious of it—and murderous as I felt, I was yet determined to make the most of my appearance before resorting to mere carnal weapons. I therefore laid down my spear, as being out of character, and commenced a few preliminary blandishments.
The party had by this time reached the bank opposite the island, where they halted for a few minutes to reconnoitre. I now introduced myself to their notice by peeping furtively from behind a tree until they observed me, when I drew back my head, and taking advantage of the ridge, suddenly appeared in a different place, while they were still staring at the tree. These sudden eclipses and reappearances, together with my uncanny aspect, seemed to have a highly disturbing effect on their nerves, for when the fetish-man at length took up his musket and stepped into the water, they were very reluctant to follow. However, the priest, who seemed in no way alarmed, would not listen to their objections, and presently the whole party began to advance across the shallows. The river had risen considerably of late, and the men were soon immersed above their waists; and as the current ran rather swiftly, they had to step cautiously.
As soon as the advance actually commenced, I got ready my catapult (which, by the way, I had gradually improved from the form that I first devised, into a most formidable weapon, in the use of which I had indeed become very expert), and waited behind the ridge until they should come within easy range. They came forward slowly in single file, holding their muskets up clear of the water, the fetish-man leading by a few paces.
When the priest had reached the middle of the ford, and paused for a moment to reconnoitre, I considered that he had come far enough, so, taking careful aim at his chest, I let fly a good-sized quartz pebble, which went home with a sharp thud. With a piercing yell the fetish-man spun round, and fell plump into the water, discharging his musket as he fell, right over the shoulder of the man behind him. He was up again in a moment, spluttering and choking, brandishing his dripping musket, and roaring to his followers to avenge him. But they were in full retreat. They had not seen the missile, but only its effects; and three of them had been hit by the slugs from the priest’s musket. Therefore they were executing a rapid strategic movement to the rear.
The fetish-man stood in mid-stream bellowing for them to come back, but as they took no notice of him, he seemed inclined to follow them. I helped him to make up his mind by discharging another pebble, which struck him in the back; on which he uttered such a terrific screech, that the warriors all broke into a run, and, scrambling up the bank, vanished into the forest, followed closely by their leader.
I breathed again as the last man disappeared; but it had been a tight squeeze—and it was not finished yet. I owed my escape, or rather my respite, entirely to the superstitious fears of the armed villagers, for as to the fetish-man, he evidently was not imposed upon by my “make up.” He would now be, no doubt, excessively annoyed with me, and I very strongly suspected that he had recognised me. In any case it was practically certain that he would return, and more efficiently supported this time; and the only question was, how soon might I expect the next attack? The settlement was barely two miles distant, so that it would be possible for him to return in an hour if he could collect a suitable party; yet I hardly expected this, for the sun was just setting, and night attacks are not much in favour with African strategists.
But while I was turning over these matters, I was making active preparations for my departure. The staging on which the canoe was built was originally close to the water’s edge, but I had afterwards extended it, forming “ways” (i.e. a launching slip-way) right into the water; and as the river had risen several inches since then, there was depth enough at its end for launching the loaded canoe into. I determined, therefore, to load the craft before launching her, as this would be quicker and more convenient than carrying the loads out to her as she floated in the stream. First I made the canoe fast to a post with a stout liana, which I belayed to a cleat in the well. Then I levered her up with a pole, and rubbed her keels with some fat that I had saved from my meals and stored in the brass pan, and the remainder I spread upon the transverse bars of the slip-way.
She was now ready for her cargo, and I began forthwith to stow the bunches of manillas on either side of the inside keel, tying each bunch in its place with ends of lashing that I had left for the purpose, so that the cargo could not shift during the launch. This took me a considerable time, and it was dark long before I had finished.
After the cargo came the stores—the tarry-looking joints of smoked meat, my two mats, the brass pan, fishhooks, needles, anchors, and a quantity of spare cordage. The lee-boards, mast, sail, paddle, and pole were already on board, as well as a sinker or drag—a log of hard wood weighted with stones, and fastened to a long, stout liana, which I intended to use for trailing along the bottom where the current was swift, to retard and steady the canoe, and hold her bows up stream as she drifted, thus enabling her to be steered with the rudder. When everything was on board, I placed an anchor, ready for dropping, on one bow, and the sinker on the other, belaying their respective cables to cleats in the well; so she was now fit to launch at a moment’s notice, and the tightness of the cord that held her to the post showed that she was ready to slide down the ways as soon as it was let go.
During all this time I kept a sharp and anxious look-out, but there was no sign of any fresh invasion; and as it now began to rain heavily, I drew the covering over the well of the canoe, and retired to the house.
The night dragged on wearily and miserably. Inside the house a chill discomfort reigned, for I had lit no fire this evening, and every article that I possessed, even to the sleeping mats, had been stowed in the canoe. The rain thundered upon the flimsy roof and oozed through in places with unpleasant tricklings, while from outside came the continuous hissing roar of the deluge as though some giant locomotive were blowing off steam. At long intervals there was a lull, and then I ran out to see that the canoe was not washed away, and that no enemies were approaching my stronghold.
So the night wore on, full of unrest, anxiety and bodily discomfort. Each time that I visited the canoe I found the water farther up the slipway, and each time that I went to the bank to look out across the river, the murmur of the rushing water seemed louder.
About an hour before dawn (as I judged by observing a group of stars through a rift in the clouds) there came a more decided lull in the downpour, and a few patches of starlit sky appeared overhead. I had been sitting on my bedstead dozing, but the sudden quiet aroused me, and I went forth once more to see that all was secure. The air was brilliantly clear, and although there was no moon, I could distinctly see the dark shapes of the trees on the opposite bank. And as I looked, I could see something else; in the dark space under the bank was a spot of blacker darkness which began to slowly move out into the stream, growing smaller as it did so. It was soon followed by another, and yet another, until there was a line of black spots on the dim surface of the river, like a row of corks above a drift-net.
A night attack was being made, then, despite the unfavourable weather.
I waited until the leader had reached mid-stream, when I could make out his head and shoulders just emerging from the water, and his arms held up, grasping either a musket or a spear; then I turned and softly ran to the canoe.
As I passed along the rear of the island, I was startled at observing a party of men approaching from that side of the river also. The water, I knew, was now too deep there for them to get across, but this second party suggested yet others and made me anxious to be gone. Excepting my spear, which was in my hand, all my goods were on board, so when I reached the canoe, I silently pushed back the cover, climbed into the well, and unfastened the mooring line from the cleat.
I stood for a moment with the taut line in my hand, looking out across the little bay to see that no one was approaching from that direction; then I let go, casting the end clear of the stage, and immediately the canoe began to move. There was a soft rumble as her greased keels slid over the slippery bars, and as she gathered momentum, her stern dived into the still water, deeper and deeper, until for one horrid moment I thought she was overweighted and was going right under; then her bow dropped with a gentle splash and she rode on an even keel, gliding away into the quiet backwater at the end of the island.
I drew a deep breath as the rapidly widening space of water appeared between me and the land, and, putting the helm over, guided my craft towards the swift stream that swept between the island and the shore. In a few seconds the canoe emerged from the backwater into the flood stream, and on this began to drift rapidly down the river.
At this moment the rain came on again and poured down in such torrents that I was glad to take shelter under the waterproof apron or well-cover. I had rigged two curved sticks on cord pivots so that they could be drawn over the well, thus supporting the cover and forming a hood like the tilt of a waggon. This tilt I now fixed in position, and found it a perfect protection from the rain; and as the opening was at the after end, I could look out over the stern, although, of course, in the direction of the bows the view was obstructed. When the tilt was up I let go a fathom or so of the line attached to the sinker, and found that I was able to feel, by the vibration of the cord, to what extent the weight was dragging on the bottom, while the noise of the water rushing past the canoe enabled me to judge roughly how much her drift was retarded by it.
I was just belaying the cord of the sinker when a tremendous shouting arose from the direction of the island, and was answered from the banks. My good friends had apparently realised their loss, but by what means I could not judge. Perhaps the empty house had told the tale, or possibly they had found the slipway and guessed at its purpose. If the latter were the case I might expect a hot pursuit, especially if they should come across the empty hole, for of the significance of this they could have no doubt whatever.
As the shouts re-echoed from the banks I was tempted to take to the paddle and forge ahead at full speed, regardless of the rain and the darkness; but my judgment told me that it was better to go cautiously at reduced speed than to risk dashing on to some obstacle and either wrecking the canoe or becoming so involved that I must wait for daylight to extricate myself. Indeed, had there been any choice at all, I should certainly have anchored until the darkness was past, for I might even now, for all I could tell, be drifting straight on to an impassable rapid or even a waterfall. But there was no choice. If I anchored, I should be overtaken and totally lost, whereas if I were wrecked on a rapid or fall, I might save myself and even ultimately recover the treasure. So there was nothing to be done but crouch in the shelter of the tilt and hope that the river hereabouts was free from falls and rapids, and that my good genius would carry the canoe clear of sunken rocks and snags.
Let me, once for all, make clear to the non-nautical reader my mode of progression. The canoe was being carried along by the swift current of the flooded river, but over her bow hung the line with the weighted log attached, which by trailing along the bottom created a resistance to her progress, which was great or little according to the length of line paid out, and kept her head pointing up-stream. She thus drifted down the river stern foremost, but as she moved more slowly than the water, the current acted on her rudder as though she were moving against it; so that if the tiller were put over to the right her head would turn to the left and she would be carried by the current obliquely across the river to the left bank, and vice versâ.
Consequently, the vessel was far from being out of control—in fact, this is the safest method of descending a rapid river; but, of course, the canoe’s obedience to her helm was of little avail at the moment, for the darkness was profound, and I was being carried on into unknown regions. Yet even so, the trailing sinker was of service, for it naturally rolled down into the deepest parts of the river-bed and thus guided the canoe clear of the banks and shallows.
And all this time the deluge descended with a roar like that of some great cataract. My frail shelter trembled with the impact of the falling torrents, and the water around was lashed into seething foam.
It cannot have been much above an hour (although it seemed a very eternity) that I had sat crouching in my shelter, peering out into the grey void, my ears stunned by the uproar and my heart in my mouth with the momentary expectation of being flung into some fall or rapid or being dashed against a rock, when the dimness around began to lighten and I knew that the dawn had come. A cheerless dawn it was, with the sombre grey pall overhead, a sheet of dirty yellow foam around, and on either side a dim and shapeless shadow that I knew to be the wall of forest on the banks. Yet it was better than darkness, for I could see far enough to steer clear of visible rocks and snags; and now and again, when the canoe swung in towards one bank, some tall shape would start out of the void and encourage me by the speed with which it passed. There might be dangers ahead, but there also lay safety, and my pursuers must needs be fleet of foot to overtake me at this rate.
Not long after daybreak, as the canoe was slipping along pretty close inshore, the wall of forest suddenly came to an end, and for a little space neither bank was visible; then the tall grey shadow reappeared, first on one side and then on the other. By this I judged that the river had joined some larger stream—probably the main stream of the Tano—and this surmise was confirmed by the fact that the current was now noticeably stronger, although the river seemed no wider than before.
The cravings of hunger had been making themselves felt for some time past, and as my anxieties were now somewhat allayed, I thought it time to pipe all hands to breakfast; so I looked up the hind legs of a ground squirrel, which, being the latest addition to my store and therefore the least perfectly cured, required to be consumed without delay, and made a barbaric but refreshing meal.
There was one feature of my voyage that had all along caused me some uneasiness, and had recurred to my mind more than once since I had left the island.
This was the Tánosu bridge.
I remembered that it hung very low—so low, in fact, that at the middle, where it sagged a good deal, its lower surface was immersed even when I crossed it in the dry season, while the ends were hardly high enough then for the canoe to pass under. The river had risen considerably since the rains began, and it was certain that the bridge would be partly submerged. If it should be deeply submerged all would be well, but if it were only awash I should have to unload the canoe before I could drag it over. But Tánosu was a mighty unpleasant place at any time at which to execute a manœuvre of this kind, and now, with the possibility that the hue and cry had already been raised there, it would be a veritable hornets’ nest. True, I might not be on the Tano after all, but this was highly improbable, as that river drained practically the whole of north-western Ashanti, and the island was but a mile or two from its source.
I was still cogitating upon the matter, when the rain, which had been decreasing in violence for some minutes, ceased altogether, and as the banks came clearly into view, I swept round a curve into a long straight reach of the river, and there, hardly a quarter of a mile away, was the bridge itself.
It presented a most formidable obstruction.
The ends, on a level with the tops of the banks, were just clear of the water, while the central part was quite submerged; but I could see by the way the water foamed over it that its surface was not many inches under.
Directly I saw the bridge, my decision was made. I would try to jump the obstacle without unloading.
To this end I began to rapidly unfasten the bunches of manillas from their lashings and push them down towards the bows, keeping an eye upon the trim of the canoe, that I did not either swamp her or strain her timbers in the process. Less than half the metal had to be moved, for when this change had been made in the stowage, her bows were nearly under, while her stern was almost out of the water.
By the time these hasty preparations had been made the bridge was less than two hundred yards ahead, so having steered the canoe into mid-stream, I pulled up the drop rudder by its cord and hauled in the sinker, letting the craft go at the full speed of the current. Straight, stern on, she charged at the middle of the bridge, over which the water was roaring and foaming as if on a weir; her stern passed on to the bridge and over it and for a moment I hoped that we should float clear, when, with a shock that flung me on to the floor of the well, her keels ground against the massive timber and she stuck hard and fast, turning nearly broadside on to the current as she brought up.
This last circumstance alarmed me terribly, for the water poured over the bridge with such force that I feared every moment that the canoe would be capsized and sunk; besides which the water was now washing right over the forward half of the vessel and threatening to come into the well. However, I was relieved to find that the rudder was well clear of the bridge, so that as soon as I could get the weight back into the stern I could bring her head to stream again.
I was about to dive into the bows to bring back the cargo, when a shout from the bank attracted my attention, and I saw a man running away from the river towards the village, apparently giving the alarm.
There was no time to be lost.
Letting the rudder drop down, I crawled into the bows and hauled for dear life at the manillas, dragging bunch after bunch aft of the well, yet stowing the weight carefully so as not to break the back of the canoe. I had got all the cargo back into its place and was beginning to trim it further aft, when I saw a party of men running furiously from the village towards the river; and, before I could move more than a single bunch, they had reached the end of the bridge.
In sheer desperation I put the helm hard over, and getting out of the well, crawled right out on to the stern, sinking it nearly flush with the water. This caused the current to lay hold of it so that the canoe swung round head to stream; and just as the foremost of the men was ankle deep in the rushing water that poured over the bridge, the keel slowly grated down the edge of the great timber, the bow slipped down with a splash, and she floated away on the current.
The men who were on the bridge instantly turned about and began to run along the bank, but finding that they could barely keep up with the canoe (for the current was sweeping along at fully five miles an hour), they struck off into the bush, evidently taking a short cut for some bend in the river.
This was highly unpleasant, for I had noticed that some of the men carried muskets, while others wore the familiar garb of the fetish-priest; probably they intended to wait for me at some promontory further down, and as they were on the right bank, I at once took my paddle and steered well under the left, urging the craft forward with all my strength. The combined effect of the current and the paddle drove the canoe along at fully seven miles an hour, and I had some hopes of outstripping my pursuers, which I was most anxious to do, for their behaviour clearly showed that they had received news from Aboási and intended to stop me at all costs.
The river now made several abrupt turns, which compelled me to keep nearly in mid-stream; then it entered a long straight reach like that at Tánosu, and I was beginning to congratulate myself on the chance this afforded me of drawing ahead, when I caught the white glint of broken water at the far end.
I was approaching a rapid.
That this was the trysting-place selected by my friends was now made clear, for I could hear the shouts of the advancing party and even the cracking of the branches as they pushed through the forest.
It was a terrible dilemma.
If, as I strongly suspected, the rapids were impassable it was useless to rush blindly at them, and yet it would be impossible to unload the cargo and ease the canoe down, with a squad of ruffians peppering me from the bank.
As I neared the critical spot and the roar of broken water was borne to my ear, I stood up and hastily surveyed the rapids. A broad band of yellowish-white foam stretched across the river almost from bank to bank, broken here and there by projecting masses of rock. In one place only was the water unbroken—a narrow space quite near to the right bank.
There was little time to consider, for the voices of my pursuers grew rapidly nearer, and I was being swept down towards the rapids with increasing velocity; so, as the passage seemed clear at the one place, I decided to take the risk of what lay beyond. I therefore pointed the head of the canoe at the smooth space, paddling in towards the right shore, and at that moment a chorus of yells from the bank almost abreast of me announced the arrival of the enemy. As I charged at the narrow passage a loud explosion rang out, and the air was filled with the screams of flying slugs; but to these I paid no attention, for I had enough to do to keep my bark in the little alley of smooth water.
The next few bewildering moments were passed in a whirl of noise and confusion. The water roared on both sides, great hummocks of rock whizzed past, muskets boomed from behind, slugs howled through the air, and the canoe flew forward with a velocity that left me breathless.
Suddenly a great rock loomed up right ahead, half way down the rapid. I flung down the paddle, and snatching up the pole, lunged wildly at a passing ledge. The canoe swerved imperceptibly and swept on, as it seemed to inevitable destruction; but her bow missed the rugged monolith by a hair’s breadth, and her side flashed past its rough face, but so close that the paddle, which projected a couple of inches, was caught by the rock and flung into the water. Once past this obstacle, the dangers of the rapid were over, although the heavily-weighted craft almost buried her bows as she plunged into the smooth water below; and a sharp turn of the river carried me out of the range of the muskets.
As the firing ceased I looked round to see if the men were following or taking measures to cut off my retreat, when I observed that a stream of some size, and very full and swift, joined the river just below the rapid. By this my pursuers were most effectually stopped, at any rate for the present, and almost certainly for good; for when I remembered the network of rivers by which the forest is intersected—rivers which just now would all be flooded—I felt that I had nothing to fear from a pursuit overland.
It would not do, however, to lose my paddle, for as the water was too deep for poling, I was rather helpless without it; but it could not be far away, and must certainly come along presently on the current. So I let go two or three fathoms of the drag line, and as the canoe slowed down, I presently saw the paddle come round a bend in the river, floating nearly in mid-stream, and slowly overtaking me. When I had recovered it I hauled up the sinker, and paddled ahead in a leisurely fashion. There was no need to exert myself, for the current was already taking me along as fast as was safe in so tortuous a river; but I had to use either the paddle or drag to keep the canoe under control, and I grudged the trifling delay that the latter caused. The river hereabouts seemed pretty free from obstructions, although the overfalls or eddies upon the surface told of jagged rocks at the bottom; indeed, it is probable that in the dry season, this part of the river was an almost continuous series of rapids. But now a good depth of water covered the rocks, and snags, and the whirlpools plainly pointed out those that approached the surface, so, by keeping a bright look-out, I was able to keep on my course.
And now that there was a lull in the excitements of the voyage, I had time to examine the bark that was carrying me so bravely on my way. A very staunch and sturdy little craft she was, and fully up to my expectations, and I was gratified to notice how accurately my calculations had worked out. She showed a good seven inches of free-board amidships, and a foot at either end; was quite dry inside, and so stiff and steady by reason of her breadth and the weight of ballast, that I could stand up without in the least affecting her stability. She was certainly very heavy to paddle, but as the whole voyage was down stream this mattered little, and I had no doubt that she would sail moderately well.
For several hours I pursued a very uneventful journey, steering with the paddle rather than propelling the canoe. Once I encountered a fallen tree which stretched almost across the river and was rather difficult to pass without damaging my vessel; I also met with two or three small rapids, but as I was now unembarrassed I had no difficulty in steering clear of the rocks.
As I went on, the river widened out very perceptibly, the tributaries being very numerous, and many of them of large size, so that by the afternoon I found myself upon a really fine and noble-looking stream; and as I looked upon its yellow, unruffled waters, rolling on majestically between the lofty, forest-clad banks, it seemed strange that it should be so desolate and silent. Yet for hours I had passed no village, nor seen any sign of human occupation, and only the familiar forest sounds—voices of bird or beast—disturbed the death-like stillness.
The afternoon passed away, not tediously, though with little incident, for the leafy banks that slipped by so quietly, but swiftly, were so many milestones on the road to freedom; coming from ahead with friendly greeting, and passing astern with a silent God speed! And when the dull grey of the western sky turned to a duller crimson, I began to look about for an anchorage with a cheerful and thankful heart.
For some reasons I would rather have drawn my canoe up on the shore for the night, but the overhanging banks were crumbling and unsafe, and the beasts of prey might prove dangerous. So I decided to anchor in the slackest water I could find, sufficiently far from the bank to be secure from nocturnal visitors.
With this object I dropped the sinker and drifted down until, just round a sharp bend, I found a sheltered spot out of the main current. Here I was about to let go my anchor when I noticed a tall Odúm tree on the very edge of the bank—a highly undesirable neighbour at this season of the year—and remembering the tree I had passed earlier in the day, I let the canoe drift another fifty yards down; when, as the current was comparatively slight, I dropped anchor, and paid out a good length of the stout liana cable. It was with some trepidation that I checked the outrun of the cable, fearing that the prongs or flukes of the hard-wood grapnel might snap off; but they held quite securely, so I belayed the cable to its cleat, and hoisted the sinker, and, for the first time, my little ship rode to her anchor.
There were but a few minutes of daylight left, and these I employed in critically watching the bank to see if the anchor dragged at all; but there was no sign of movement, and when I pulled on the cable, it seemed as firm as though there had been a fifty-pound Trotman at the end of it. So I set up the tilt, in case it should rain in the night, made a frugal supper of smoked meat, and, having spread the mats, lay down between the two rows of manillas.
It was an odd sensation, but very pleasant and peaceful, to lie in that tiny cabin and listen to the water gurgling past outside the thin bark skin. But I did not listen long, for I had had no sleep on the previous night, and was tired out with the day’s exertions; and my head had rested but a few minutes on the pillow that I had hastily extemporised by wrapping an antelope’s ham in my riga, when I fell asleep.
I cannot tell how long I had slept, when I woke with a violent start and the feeling that something had happened. The canoe was rocking slightly, and the rain was pounding upon the deck and tilt. At first I thought my bark had broken adrift, but the trickle of the water past her run was still audible, and on giving a pull at the cable, I could feel that the anchor was fast. I put my head out of the opening of the tilt, but, of course, nothing was to be seen in the black obscurity, so, as the canoe was now motionless again, I concluded that some floating object must have struck her and aroused me; and with this I lay down again, and was asleep directly.
The dull light of a wet morning was streaming in through the companion hatch (as I may magniloquently call the tilt opening) when I next opened my eyes, and as I was ravenously hungry, I commenced the day by breakfasting off a portion of my pillow—it is needless to say which portion—after which I piped all hands to heave up the anchor. But before beginning to haul on the cable, I put my head outside the tilt to see that all was clear; and immediately the cause of last night’s disturbance was apparent. The lofty tree that had aroused my misgivings on the previous evening lay sprawling across the river, its flat base of roots at the top of the bank, and its crown of branches in mid-stream. It had fallen just over the place where I had first intended to anchor, and even now, some of the topmost branches were barely ten yards from the canoe. My caution had not been superfluous, and as I hauled in the cable—very gently, so as not to strain the anchor—I congratulated myself on my escape.
I examined the anchor anxiously as it came up out of the water, and was much relieved to find it none the worse for the night’s work. Two out of the four flukes had been deep in the sandy bottom, and had manifestly held fast, for the canoe had not dragged an inch in the whole night.
As the rain still fell slightly, I kept the tilt up, and drifted down, trailing the drag. My spirits were very buoyant, for I had succeeded beyond my expectations in this enterprise; one day of my voyage was gone, and I must have travelled well over sixty miles in the thirteen or fourteen hours that I had been under way. And not only had I left far behind the most imminent and alarming dangers, but I had met with far fewer obstacles and difficulties than I had anticipated. None of the rapids had been impassable, even to the loaded canoe, and the river had been most unexpectedly open and free from snags.
But it was not all to be such plain sailing, for even as I was thus complacently reviewing the previous day’s exploits, my ear caught a new sound—an even, continuous murmur, faint and distant, but unmistakable—the sound of falling water.
As I drifted on, the murmur grew louder, but with a slowness that was ominously suggestive of a great volume of sound travelling a long distance, and several reaches were passed before it seemed much nearer. Gradually, however, it waxed in intensity, until it rose clear above the hiss of the rain, and I began to look ahead with keen anxiety at each turn of the river’s tortuous course.
At length, creeping along inshore on the shallow side, I rounded a rocky promontory, and met the full roar of the cataract, which appeared to be half way down the next reach. Yet there was little to see. The river seemed to break off abruptly, and its continuation at a lower level was visible through a steamy haze.
I ran the canoe inshore where a small, stout tree grew close to the water’s edge, and to this I prepared to make fast. The canoe was fitted with a painter (or mooring rope) of plaited bark, the strongest piece of cordage I possessed, twenty feet long, and fixed to the stem-post with an eye-splice; so there was no fear of her breaking away from her moorings. Having hitched the painter securely to the tree, I tied on my wig, and taking my spear and catapult, stepped ashore. There was no one in sight on either bank, so with a cautious look round, I made my way along the shore towards the rapids.
When I reached them their aspect filled me with despair. They commenced with a sheer drop of seven or eight feet; but this was only the beginning, for the water poured down into a chaos of rocks, amidst which it boiled and spouted, only to dash onward into a new labyrinth. I wandered dejectedly down stream, eagerly looking for the end of the rapids, but at each few paces a fresh stretch of foaming water came into view, tumbling boisterously among great blocks of stone, and filling the air with noise and spray.
I walked on for about half a mile without seeing any sign of the river resuming its ordinary course, and then, growing uneasy about the canoe, turned back, terribly disheartened, and at my wits’ end how to proceed.
It looked as if my voyage must end here, for it seemed as impossible to carry the canoe this distance on land, as it was to navigate her through the cataract. And how much farther did the rapids extend? That was a question I could not answer, and yet until it was settled I could form no plan.
As I turned my face upstream, I noticed with no little surprise that the fall was out of sight, for my attention had been so fixed upon the water that I had not observed the way in which the river curved, and I now found that I had traversed nearly a quarter of a circle, and that the curve below continued to turn in the same direction.
I found the canoe just as I had left it, and stepping on board, cast off the painter, and paddled a little way up in the slack water; then turning her head off shore, I drove her at full speed obliquely across the river, and secured the painter to a tree on the opposite bank. Once more taking my weapons, I climbed up on to the level and entered the forest, and had gone but a short distance when I struck a path of the usual narrow and tortuous type. Proceeding briskly along this, I had walked two or three hundred yards when, quite suddenly, I came in sight of a party of six men sitting round a small fire. They looked like Ashantis, and were evidently travellers, for their narrow, canework trays piled with produce lay hard by; and I observed with envy a goodly bunch of plantains lashed to each tray.
As I was standing taking in these details, one of the men turned his head and observed me, and for a moment seemed paralysed with astonishment; but he presently rose slowly, still staring at me, and reaching out for his tray, snatched it up, clapped it on his head, and bolted precipitately down the path. His companions looking round for the cause of his alarm, also perceived me, and with one accord grabbed up their loads and fled.
The fact that they had taken their goods made it clear that they had no intention of returning, so I sauntered up to the fire and examined it. More than a dozen peeled plantains lay on the embers roasting, and two or three with the skins partially removed had been dropped close by. Evidently I had frightened the poor fellows away from their breakfast, and if my conscience reproached me a little, I allowed the recollection of the bunches on their trays to allay my qualms, and licked my lips at the prospect of a meal of cooked food. Pursuing my way along the track I soon distinguished the murmur of water ahead, and presently came to a place where the path divided into two. Following the left-hand branch, a few paces brought me to a shelving hard or landing-place—possibly a ford in the dry season—apparently at the foot of the rapids, for above this spot the water came foaming down among scattered rocks, while below the channel was almost clear.
I walked some distance along the bank to make sure that there were no more rapids below, and having ascertained that the river seemed to have resumed its normal course, I made my way back towards the canoe, gathering up the roasted plantains as I went. But the existence of the ford below suggested the probability of another farther up, so before returning to the canoe, I explored the road in that direction; and to my unbounded satisfaction came presently to a side path leading down a gentle incline to the water.
The problem of the portage was now considerably simplified. The river, it was clear, made a wide, horseshoe sweep, the whole of the curve being occupied by impracticable rapids, enclosing a peninsula across the isthmus of which the canoe would have to be dragged, that it might be again launched in the smooth water below. The difficulties of the task were enormously reduced by the existence of the road, and especially of the landing-places; for, of course, the portage was a contingency not unforeseen nor unprovided for, and it was only the steepness of the banks and the denseness of the forest that had made it seem so impossible. The distance across the isthmus was about a quarter of a mile—a long way to haul so heavy a weight; but with sufficient time and labour the thing could be done, and I could start once more on my voyage.
The first thing to do was to unload the canoe, and on reflection, I decided to carry the gold at once to the lower landing-place, where it would be ready to put on board without delay as soon as the canoe was launched.
But this required circumspection, for the track was evidently used by travellers, and might possibly lead to some neighbouring village, and it would certainly be unwise to carry the gold uncovered, in case I should meet any strangers.
The plan I adopted was to wrap three bunches of manillas in my old riga, and two more in my wondo, and passing the connecting cords over my shoulders (which I protected with pads of grass) I was able to stagger along pretty well, the weight being only about a hundred pounds.
I had made eight journeys (depositing the manillas among some bushes at the water’s edge, where they were hidden from view, and yet were easy to get at for restowing), and was returning for a ninth load when I heard someone talking at no great distance. Hastily stepping off the path, I retired a little way into the bush, and took up my position behind a large tree; and I had but just hidden myself when I heard the strangers coming down the path. They were a small party of Wongáras (as I ascertained by peeping at them when they had passed), heavily laden, and apparently in a great hurry, for they strode along at a swinging pace, all talking together, without even stopping to look at the fire by the roadside.
I followed them to make sure that they were not going down to the river, and when I had seen them take the right-hand turning, I went for a fresh load.
The transport of the gold was completed in three more journeys, but on the last two, to save an extra journey, I had to carry six bunches, which I found very heavy; and when I had deposited the last of the manillas by the launching place, I fetched the uncooked plantains from the canoe, and rested by the fire while they roasted. The hot, cooked fruit seemed very delicious after my monotonous animal diet, and I was soon sufficiently revived to attack the main difficulty—the portage of the canoe.
The arrangements I had made for this purpose were not very satisfactory, but were the best that I could manage with my limited appliances. I had brought with me four rollers about three feet long, and four poles each eight feet, which I carried lashed on the deck. The latter were to serve as rails for the rollers to run on if the ground should be rough or soft. I also had a hard-wood eye, through which I could reeve a rope, and so make a primitive purchase tackle (or “handy Billy,” as sailors would call it), but I was badly in want of an efficient tackle or a small windlass.
Poling the canoe with some difficulty against the swift current that ran past this shore, I brought her to the upper landing place, and made fast; then having hoisted the drop-rudder, I went ashore and laid down the lines on the easiest part of the slope. Setting one of the rollers on the lines, I lifted the stern of the canoe on to it, and made fast with a spare rope to a neighbouring tree while I cast off the painter, which latter I brought aft and lightly lashed to the stern-post, so that in hauling on it, the weight would be principally borne by the strong bow timbers. I next fixed the tackle on to the painter, and, having rubbed the eye with a piece of fat to make it run easily, secured one end of the tackle to a tree some distance up the slope, and hauled steadily on the other. The canoe ran on to the roller more lightly than I had expected, and I soon had her out of the water and the other rollers in position, with small pegs stuck in the ground to prevent them from running back down the slope when they were released. The slope was but a short one, as the river was nearly full, and with a few hearty pulls at the fall of the tackle, the canoe came up on to the level. Here there was no difficulty at all, for when the lines were laid and the rollers placed, she ran along quite easily.
All the time she was on the road I was in mortal dread of meeting some of the natives; for one cannot hide a canoe at a moment’s notice, and my “make up” might have failed to produce its customary effect. But nobody appeared along the path, and I worked with such a will, that in less than half an hour her stern was overhanging the slope of the lower landing-place, and the tackle fixed ready for letting her down. Here the rollers were not really necessary, but were used to save her keels from chafing; with their aid she ran down the incline in fine style, and I had the satisfaction of seeing her once more afloat and sitting on the water, without her cargo, as light as a bubble.
It took but a short time to put the gold on board again, and when this was done I pushed off without stopping to distribute the weight. As the rain was still falling, I let go a length of drag rope and put up the tilt; and as the canoe drifted down stream, I gradually trimmed the cargo into its proper place.
For some miles the river continued to be slightly obstructed by jutting masses of rock, and here and there small rapids occurred; but towards afternoon the stream grew wider, and its channel quite clear and open.
The loss of speed entailed by the use of the drag was a constant source of regret to me, and as the river was for the present easily navigable, I grudged it the more, and began to consider if it could not be avoided. It occurred to me that, as the water at the bottom of a river flows more slowly than at the surface, perhaps it would be sufficient if I let the sinker hang just clear of the bottom; and on making the experiment I found it to answer perfectly, the slower bottom current checking the canoe just enough to enable her to be steered.
I drifted on for several hours without any incident, making very good progress as I took my ease inside my shelter, and rested after the morning’s exertions. I passed two villages, but saw none of the inhabitants, who were probably sheltering indoors from the rain; on the bank, however, by the second village, I noticed a long, flat-bottomed dug-out canoe, probably a ferry-boat (for the river was already too wide to be spanned by the ordinary single-log bridge), and I noted the fact with interest, as showing that I was entering a more populated region.