Chapter VI: Return to Fernando Po

My Christmas holidays were now done, and time was flying fast; the visit had been for a fortnight; it had lasted six weeks. After collecting some bouquets and pipe-sticks I apportioned the loads to the Krumen, who had been limping about camp like dogs on three legs, and looking as wretched as Lascars in the snows of London. By way of experiment Selim remarked audibly that the lame might stay till well with M. Mann, whilst the others returned to ‘Nanny Po.’ The effect was magical. Every back straightened; _jarrets tendus_ were the rule; there was a forgotten elasticity of gait and movement; one would have said they had been ‘gingered’ for the occasion. We laughed at them and _with_ them about their rascality. The African, whose paralysis of the moral sense seems to exceed that of the American, will always enjoy, if you do, the detection of a trick.

At 11·50 A.M., on Friday the last of January, 1862, after thirty-nine days from the 23rd December comfortably enough spent there, I left Spring Camp, and struck due north through the dense wood that flanked our late home. Taping delayed us till 3 P.M., and when we reached our nighting-place the Krumen had again been busy with the water: they were sent back to refill. In the evening I scaled Black Crater, ascertained that it was 7328 feet high, and was nearly swept from the summit by the furious wind. It afforded, however, a good view of the irregular group, the isolated masses above and around, especially Mount Eliza, one of the Three Sisters, which at the conjunction of the lava-field from above, and the forest clothing the mountain-flanks to the sea, was half above and half in the wood, the southern part and the crater being overgrown with dense trees. This comparatively open ground to the north would be highly advantageous for a settlement. Selim and I then revisited the little plain immediately below the volcanic platform, which had recommended itself to us as a sanitarium. The sharp wiry tussocks that covered the colder regions had here disappeared, and the continuous grass carpet promised a more genial temperature. Having visited the southern edge of the small plateau, where it bends towards the base of Little Camaroons, we retraced our steps with a profounder conviction of the capabilities of the spot. On return we found that the Krumen had built their fire and had pitched my waterproof tent on the ledge below Black Crater, where our first hard night in high latitudes had been passed. The wild easterly gale, dashing itself in little whirlwinds against the dark cone, and eddying round it in furious gusts, soon saved them the trouble of striking; and presently we found below a sheltered spot with a few trees, more proper for a bivouac. The bees swarmed, probably attracted by the moisture under the cinders and scoriæ. In these milder regions they are fiercer than at Spring Camp. ‘Where there are bees there is honey,’ says the Asiatic proverb. We sought, however, but we did not find.

Shortly after we had turned in the wind fell almost to a calm. Exactly at 7·29 P.M. a flash passed through the crystal sky, and we saw a fiery ball crossing the heavens from south to north, leaving behind it a brush of light like the tail of a comet. Remaining distinctly visible for half an hour, after which its luminosity faded before the young moon, it enabled me to measure its angle with a sextant, which gave 30° 20′. It was the only example of the meteors which attracted Dr. Brydone’s attention on Mount Etna.

We arose betimes on the next day; there was hard work before us. The dew was heavy in the ‘nest,’ and in the cool clear dawn the thermometer showed 46° (Fah.). Setting out at 6·30 A.M., we walked painfully over 2800 feet of the most rugged formation, broken and tossed about in chaotic masses, immediately at the vent of Black Crater. After passing the head of the fire current an easier descent began. We recounted six distinct ridges, breaks in the stream, with ‘drops’ sharper than elsewhere; but there may be sixty, if viewed from different points. In some places the torrent, strangled by its banks, was not more than 100 feet; then, with all the accidents of a river, it would widen to 100 yards. The heat overhead became painful, and the black charred wood and ashes under foot (the Krumen during their various journeys had burnt the bush) formed an excellent reflecting instrument. Lower down there were signs of rain in the soppiness of the soil; and the thick warm mists surging up from the caldron below rendered taking bearings anything but satisfactory. We crossed the stream, and rested at our old breakfasting place about 11 A.M. After boiling thermometers at Fern Gate, we bade adieu to the open fernery and plunged into the dense forest, bending to the S.S.E. The descent here was detestable: slides of clay, drops and falls, a cordage of llianas, and a network of tree-roots, made it longer than the ascent. It was 9·30 before we entered Mapanya.

Old Balmat and the valiant Botani—we called him Sángo á Lobángo, ‘Lord of Lies’—met us in the grass lane outside the settlement, and seemed not to know what countenance to assume. I had made up my mind to night there, but, singer-like, required no end of friendly pressing, which was duly administered. My consent was given coyly, and only on condition that provisions, fuel, and water should be supplied reasonably. There was an attempt to extract cloth by means of firewood from the Mokárá:[107] this, however, failed, and soon we saw at our feet a fowl, together with kokos and a large plantain-branch for the Krumen. The hut formerly occupied supplied us with ‘a refuge and a Bethel’ for the night. The air was cold, the hens would force their way to the wonted roosting-place, the hungry sandflies were unendurable to any but a pachyderm, and the bossy dirty floor caused hours of _insomnie_, which were devoted to eliminating the idea of a portable bed, chair, and table, all in one. It is offered gratis to travellers.[108]

On Sunday the 2nd February I left Mapanya early, escorted _honoris causâ_ by the chief Botani. Our pace was sharp, and after the sun had risen a spear’s length the air was something between the atmosphere of a Turkish bath and a London ballroom. The inhabitants of the several settlements on our way behaved very differently. Tátá, the chief of a little hamlet below Mapanya, actually ‘dashed’ me a fowl, which was carried off in triumph for Mrs. Saker at Victoria. At ‘Logo,’ a large clearing with nine huts near the Turu district, I found the Krumen, who had preceded us, standing with their loads at the edge of the bush. A fellow, armed with a musket and a sword, had levelled at them and caused the halt. His object was of course to make them cast their packs and fling themselves into the bush, under which circumstances the whole village would have turned out, and the matter would have become serious. By this time the Bakwiri had found out the Krumen to be perhaps greater cowards than themselves. They were, however, disappointed. My gang knew that the danger of being shot was problematical, but the punishment of desertion was certain. Selim and I travelled from that place to nearly the foot of the mountain with cocked revolvers; and whenever a naked gentleman began to execute a war-dance, or to raise any more than justifiable clamour, he was easily persuaded to ‘make himself scarce.’ There were greedy looks as the line of bundles defiled past the settlements, and I thought it necessary to make special arrangements for M. Mann’s safe descent.[109]

Near Logo we passed on the right a little hut neatly built of new bamboos, and the doors were adorned with inverted T’s of white chalk. It was probably a meeting-house or lodge for the Dyengo, an initiation like the Jengo of the Camaroons River, which admits the Konja, or free-born, of both sexes.

At 9·45 A.M. we made Bosumbo, where the drunken chief Myombi received us with a civility bordering upon servility. The water of the rivulet near this settlement was delicious after the moss-juice of Mapanya, which tainted even green tea. Resuming our march, we met in the lower slopes—it was market-day—long lines of women carrying on their backs and heads panniers and baskets of the produce of the bay, which had a very ancient and fish-like smell. The atmosphere of the forest became close and fœtid after the pure æther of the highlands; and the dense vegetation excluded even the searching ‘doctor,’ as the sea-breeze is called in these latitudes. The road was strewed with tonto, a red fruit eaten by monkeys, but not by Krumen. Thence we forded the little river, and at 2·30 P.M. we passed through the double palisade of tree-trunks which defends the new colony of Victoria Junior. My first steps were directed towards the Ethiopic Ocean, where, without the ceremony of disrobing, I walked straight in, compelling the Krumen to do the same.

Mrs. Saker, who would not leave the place till she had seen us all return ‘safe and sound,’ received me with her usual kindness, and provided us with a boat for the Camaroons River. I left Victoria on the 4th February, 1862, with a sigh.

Farewell, Camaroons! Farewell, beautiful heights! where so many calm and quiet days have sped without sandflies, or mosquitoes, or prickly heat. Adieu! happy rustic wilds! where I have spent so many pleasant weeks, even in West Africa. Adieu! and may adieu in this case bear all the significance of au revoir!

And now Victoria is shut in by the high hill-shoulders, the sentinel islands fade in the distance, the peaks wax more aërial, less earth- like,—

Majoresque cadunt altis de montibus umbræ;

whilst a huge purple mist, belted with a fantastic zone of fleecy white cloud, drops its mysterious curtain upon the scene of my latest adventure.

[Footnote 107: Mokara, plur. Bákárá, in the languages of this mountain and river means white man. May it not be the origin of the American negro’s Buckra man?]

[Footnote 108: Its form is this: two pieces of usual deal plank 4 feet × 2—the sleeper’s legs need no care—connected by hinges of canvas, which are better than leather in these humid lands, with a batten crosswise under each end to raise it from the ground, and a hollow wooden pillow at one extremity. Thus placed upon the floor it is chair and bed. When acting as table it stands upon a strong St. Andrew’s cross, turning on central pivots and capable of being lashed to the plank when on the road. Those who object to its hardness as a couch have only to try the salient points of an African hut floor.]

[Footnote 109: The botanist left Spring Camp for Ridge Camp on the 13th of February, and at the latter place spent four days, of which two from heavy rain were lost for collecting. On the 14th thunder lasted from 5 A.M. to 5 P.M., and ‘in the middle of the day it was so dark that the screech-owls and large bats left their hiding-places and announced their presence by their unpleasant cries.’ On the afternoon of the 17th, when descending, he met Messrs. Smith and Johnson, who had kindly ascertained that Botani had no unfriendly intentions. The next day he found Mapanya without trouble, reached Victoria at noon, left it on the 24th for Camaroons River, and returned to Fernando Po safely by the next steamer.]