CHAPTER XV.
A Trip to Prahsu—Mansu—A Fiendish Réveille—Bush Travelling—Prahsu—The King of Adansi—Masquerading Costumes—The Camp—Strength of the Expedition.
On April 11th Colonel Justice, Lieutenant D. M. Allen (Acting Engineer), a Commissariat officer, and myself, started from Cape Coast about 5 a.m. in hammocks for Mansu, where we had heard the Governor was. Shortly after noon we reached Accroful, 13¾ miles from Cape Coast, where the road from Effutu joins the main road; and there we found Captain Lonsdale, the late Commandant of the Lonsdale’s Horse of the Zulu war, holding a palaver with the king of Abrah, from Abracampa. His object was to obtain five hundred carriers to transport a frame-house from Elmina to Mansu for the accommodation of the Governor, and we inferred from this that the latter intended making a lengthened sojourn in the bush. We halted for an hour at the house of the local mission preacher, which was, as usual, the best in the village, and then pushed on to Dunquah, where we stayed for the night.
Next morning we were off again at daybreak, and, after a three hours’ halt at Inkrau during the hottest part of the day, reached Mansu, 35½ miles from Cape Coast, at 4·30 p.m. On our arrival we found that the Governor with all his following had gone on to Prahsu, to which place it was decided we should follow, and the village would have been entirely deserted but for an officer of the constabulary, who had arrived the day before from Elmina viâ Effutu, with some 70 Houssas, and who was waiting to rest his men. The native inhabitants had all been ejected from their dwellings, which, after a little preliminary cleaning, had been appropriated by the officers who formed the Governor’s retinue; traces of whose stay were still existing in the piles of beer and brandy bottles, and in the ridiculous and inappropriate names, such as “Rose Villa,” which were daubed on the swish-walls of the houses. In the centre of the town was a large shed, built of bamboo and palm-leaves, and open at the sides: this was called the Palaver House, and had been erected in the anticipation of the Governor here meeting the Ashanti envoys; but, as they had not arrived, it seemed that no palaver would be held here after all, and the rows of bamboo seats for the retinue, with a bamboo throne for His Excellency, flanked by more lowly seats for his immediate satellites, were doomed to waste their sweetness unused. We had the honour of occupying the gubernatorial residence, which was an ordinary swish-hut, to one side of which an appendage like a gigantic birdcage had been added, which, while it kept the vulgar herd at a respectful distance, permitted of their gazing through the bars at royalty within, in much the same manner as the British public would gaze at a new and strange beast in the gardens of the Zoological Society at Regent’s Park.
Next morning, shortly after 4 a.m., we were wakened from a sound sleep by the roll of drums and the shrieking of half-a-dozen fifes: it was the Houssa “band” playing an untimely réveille. They were supposed to be playing that old point of war which begins “Old Father Paul came from the Holy Land,” but their acquaintance with it was limited to the first two bars, which they repeated over and over again. As the sound first penetrated our half-awakened senses we tried to keep it out and go to sleep again; then, finding that that was useless, we waited in expectancy for them to go on with the rest of the tune, and after the first two bars had been played over and over again for about ten minutes we were in a very fair state of nervous excitement. Soon the effect of this began to grow irritating; we commenced saying “Tum tumti tumti, tumti tumti tum,” to ourselves time after time; then we tried to shake that off and count; but we counted the thing ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty times, and still the infernal tum tumti tum went on in the same endless monotony, while we dressed by fits and starts in the dark, hoping and praying that the Houssas would either go on to the next bar or leave off altogether. The torture rapidly grew worse and worse: it seemed to rake up all our nerves, and every repetition went through us like a galvanic shock, while we could not go and implore the Constabulary officer to put a stop to it because we knew that it was as balm and consolation to his wounded military spirit. We tried to give our minds to other subjects, but it was out of the question, and conversation was impossible; our eyes became wild, our brows haggard, and we were rapidly approaching a state of frenzy, when, after half-an-hour’s torture, we fled from the demoniacal sounds. We passed the Houssas, marching up and down outside our habitation, blowing away vigorously with their cheeks distended to their utmost capacity, with our fingers in our ears, and rushed off into the damp forest path. What a universal sigh of relief we gave when we were out of hearing, but the diabolic rhythm went on in our minds long after that, and by 10 a.m. one of our number was down with fever. If any one should think that our nerves were unduly sensitive, let him get somebody to play on the piano, for half-an-hour without a single pause,
and then see how he feels at the end of the performance.
We crossed the Oki river by a felled silk-cotton tree, and stopped at Sutah, or, as the natives call it, Fittah, in the middle of the day for breakfast; after which epicurean meal Colonel Justice and the Commissariat officer went on, while I waited for the invalid, who, as he knew how to treat himself, would be able to go on as soon as the sun lost its force. About 4·30 p.m. he was pretty well and we started off; the sunlight faded imperceptibly into moonlight, and with no casualties worse than occasionally staking ourselves on the stumps of trees left standing from three to four feet high in the middle of the path, we reached Yancoomassie Assin about 9 p.m.
Through our delay at Sutah I made a discovery as to which portion of the twenty-four hours is the most suitable for travelling in the bush. As travelling during the heat of the day renders one liable to “touches” of the sun and heat apoplexy, most Europeans in West Africa who have to go anywhere start at an unearthly hour in the morning, before it is light, and then go on until ten or eleven o’clock, when they breakfast. In my opinion this is a mistake. All night long a heavy dew has been falling, and as you walk, or are carried along, showers of dew-drops fall upon you from the overhanging trees, sufficiently heavy to make you wet and give you a chill; then, as the sun begins to gain power, all kinds of exhalations and noisome vapours rise from the rank and wet vegetation, and various overpowering stenches salute the olfactory nerves, while for the last two hours of your journey you are baked in your hammock. Now none of these things are conducive to health in such a climate as that of West Africa, and they might all be avoided by travelling, say from 4 p.m. to 9 p.m., when the sun has been drying the forest all day and drawing up the miasma, while no dew to speak of has begun to fall. Should there be no moon, a native torch, made of dry palm-stems, can be manufactured anywhere in a few minutes; and the only objection I have ever heard urged against choosing this time for journeying is that it is not pleasant to enter a village, and have to choose a hut to sleep in and prepare the evening meal, so late; but this is easily reduced to a minimum by sending on your boys an hour ahead of you to prepare for your arrival. It is not as if there was anything to be seen during a trip to the bush, for few people, who have not experienced it, can understand the loathing with which one regards the endless monotony of the forest, through the dense rank vegetation of which one moves on day after day, as if between two lofty walls of foliage, without seeing a single glade or break in the sameness. Of course I refer here to the feeling of those accustomed to the country, for to a newcomer there is a certain amount of novelty, and consequently interest, in such scenes.
The number of villages which have sprung up along the Prah road since the close of the last war is surprising, and evinces a feeling of security on the part of the natives of which their minds would have been sadly disabused had the Ashantis followed up their hostile declaration by vigorous action. All these might, from a negro point of view, be described as thriving, as a few acres of ground round each had been cultivated, and some of them could boast of considerable plantations of plantains; but of course very little more is grown than is actually required for the inhabitants themselves. Passing through a village one is again immediately swallowed up in the mantle of the forest for an hour or so, until another group of huts relieves the eye like an oasis in a vast vegetable desert. Water abounds, and the fertility of the soil is marvellous; inhabited by any other race of man this country would surpass the whole world in agricultural wealth, but, as it is, it is lost to mankind, and there is every probability of its remaining so, as it is hopeless to endeavour to induce a negro to work. If some energetic Governor would only introduce sanitary reform and Chinese labour, the Gold Coast would soon become very different to what it now is; but the motto of all previous administrators, except perhaps Governor Maclean, seems to have been “Apres moi le déluge.”
We left Yancoomassie Assin about five in the morning of the 14th, and, breakfasting at Barraco at noon, approached Prahsu about 4 p.m. As we drew near we could hear the “boom boom” of trade muskets keeping a straggling fusillade ahead of us, and the hammock-men began to grow nervous, while our servants commenced complaining because we had not allowed them to bring rifles with them. We had not the remotest idea of what was taking place, but as no reports of rifles were heard in reply we concluded it was nothing of hostile import, although a Houssa sergeant whom we met informed us that it was Ashantis who were firing.
Passing through a gap in the fence which inclosed the camp we found the men of the Houssa Constabulary drawn up in two lines, facing each other, as if waiting as a guard of honour for somebody; though as there were very few men, only about ninety in all, an interval of five or six yards had been left between every two men, so that they might take up more ground and make a more imposing show. We thought at first that it was a polite attention on the part of the Governor, and that these men were drawn up to receive the officer commanding the troops, but we soon found out our mistake; they were paraded for the reception of that omnipotent African potentate the king of Adansi, who was now crossing the river, and the reports of whose retainers’ muskets we had been hearing.
About an hour after our arrival the king and his followers crossed the river in safety, and, entering the camp, proceeded between the two so-called lines of Houssas towards a bamboo and palm-leaf palaver-shed which had been erected in the centre of the camp. Altogether there were one hundred and fifty of them, consisting of the king, chiefs, and dependents, fifty of the latter carrying muskets, and the rest the usual barbaric state utensils, viz., swords, umbrellas, pipes, stools, fans, fly-whisks, and chairs covered with brass nails. There was not so much native goldsmiths’ work exhibited as is usual on such occasions, and the silk of the tent-like state umbrella was very dirty and much torn, which seemed to denote that his majesty’s exchequer was not in a flourishing condition.
I thought I might as well hear what would be said, so I walked towards the shed, where I found the Governor’s retinue sitting placidly upon rum-kegs, which were standing on end, placed in rows behind a Madeira chair intended to support His Excellency’s frame. The Adansi rabble faced this at a little distance, while to the left were Enguie, Busumburu, and the Elmina chiefs, who had come up from the coast to swell the official following. I shook hands with a few friends, appropriated a rum-keg, and sat down too. Presently a whisper ran through the retinue, and all stood up with blanched faces and uncovered heads, and gazed with an aspect of the most profound respect towards a little dwelling of sticks to which our backs had been turned. I looked round to see what was the cause of all this apprehension, and perceived the Governor coming slowly towards us, supported by his favourite disciples.
These, two in number, and the Governor himself, were attired in eccentric costumes, which formed a curious contrast to the ordinary garments of civilisation worn by the rest of the Europeans present; and they somehow reminded me, first, of the three tutelary deities of pantomime, Messrs. clown, harlequin, and pantaloon, and then, on further reflection, of the three Graces. His Excellency wore a blue Norfolk jacket, garnished with a medal and star, and immense scarlet trousers, tucked into long yellow boots, reaching nearly to the knee, and furnished with large brass spurs, which are, in West Africa, so exceedingly useful for goading the stubborn hammocks to increased speed. Wound round his helmet was a fragment of a gaudy Cashmere shawl, and one obsequious attendant held an umbrella over the august head, while another flourished a horse-tail to drive away the impertinent radical flies. On the right hand, but at a respectful distance from his chief, marched the principal satellite, attired in an eccentric costume of grey, adorned with much braid, which reminded me forcibly of those grotesque uniforms in which, in the early days of the volunteer movement, martial men-milliners astonished the public and gave full scope to their genius. On the left hand stalked the secondary satellite, clothed in an antique scarlet patrol-jacket, upon which gold lace had been scattered with a wild and lavish hand; while the tight blue trousers, also embellished with gold lace, came to a tasteful and appropriate termination in the recesses of long Wellington boots.
I looked at the two Ashanti envoys, Enguie and Busumburu, who, having resided at Cape Coast for some weeks, would know that Europeans did not usually attire themselves in such gorgeous apparel, to see what they thought of this masquerade. The courteous Busumburu in vain tried to conceal a smile under a well-dissembled cough, while the sneer which disfigured the countenance of the truculent Enguie made it appear more repellent than ever. As for the Elminas, they smiled at each other but said nothing, for such vagaries as this had caused the Governor to be known at Elmina by the appellation of the Bush Chief; but with the Adansis the magnificent display seemed to go down pretty well, though of course they would be set right, after the palaver, by those who knew all about such things.
Waving his majestic hand condescendingly to the crowd of cringing and awe-stricken courtiers, His Excellency took his seat, and, in case any malign spirit of evil should direct a waning sunbeam at the gubernatorial head through the thick roof of palm-leaves, the umbrella was still kept in requisition, while the fly-whisk was plied more energetically than ever. To my great disappointment, after all this preparation and excitement, there was no palaver at all; the usual salutations, hand-shakings, and compliments, were gone through, and then the Governor told the Adansi king that as it was getting rather late he would hear next day what he had to say.
The camp at Prahsu occupied exactly the same site as did the old one of 1873; there was a rough fence, or rather hedge, like what is known in some colonies as a stump hedge, bounding three sides of it, while the fourth was bordered by the river. The inclosed space, about 300 yards by 120 yards, was covered with a number of wretched huts made of bamboo and palm-leaves, the flimsy roofs of which afforded no protection either from rain or sun, while the walls afforded about as much concealment and privacy to the inmates as does a birdcage to its tenant. The larger sheds were for the accommodation of the European officers, though better shelter was to be found in the poorest village on the road, and scores of little “lean-to” habitations, made of brushwood and palm, were dotted about for the use of the labourers, Kroomen, Crepes, and Fantis, some eight hundred of whom were in camp. The Acting-Engineer and I fortunately obtained possession of a bell-tent (which had evidently been pitched by an amateur), and so had a better protection overhead than that afforded by the gridiron-like roofs of the huts; some Houssas knocked up a bed of palm-sticks in a few minutes, and we made ourselves as comfortable as circumstances would permit.
Strange to say, although the Colonial officer still pretended that hostilities were possible, if not probable, no measures had been taken for defending the camp in the event of an attack; there was not even a shelter-trench along the river bank, and, as for the stump-hedge on the other sides, that formed no obstacle, and could be passed through at any point that one chose. The further bank of the river had not been occupied by us, yet no attempt had been made to clear the bush immediately opposite the camp; and, as dense forest grew down to the edge of the water, an enemy could easily line the bank unseen, and, the river being only 189 feet broad, bring such a fire to bear upon the camp as would make it perfectly untenable. It was easy to see that the expedition was under the management of an amateur in military matters, and it was an exceedingly fortunate thing for all composing it that the Ashantis were so peaceably inclined.
In the evening I sought for relics of the last expedition. There were not many left. The bridge had totally disappeared, and a dilapidated pontoon, with the inclosed grave of Captain Huyshe, were the only vestiges of our former occupation of this site.
The total force of the expedition in the camp, I learned, was 899, consisting of 13 European officers, 107 Houssas, 59 clerks and servants, 9 Sierra Leone police, 173 native chiefs and followers, and the remainder carriers. Taken as a whole it formed an imposing display, and was quite sufficient to confirm the Ashantis in their impression that it was the advanced guard of some large expeditionary force.