CHAPTER XVI.
Regulating the Sun—Arrival of the Ashanti Embassy—The Palaver—Ciceronian Eloquence—A Diplomatic Fiction—A beautiful simile—Physiognomies—Unhealthiness of the Camp.
Next morning I was awakened by a loud detonation, the echoes of which had scarcely died away when I heard a voice shout “His Excellency has arisen.” This important declaration was at once followed by the réveille, played by four separate bugles in different parts of the camp; and, as I knew that there were not four corps in the encampment over night, I thought troops must have unexpectedly arrived, and so went hurriedly out of my tent to ascertain. I found that we had received no sudden accession to our strength: one bugler was blowing on behalf of the Houssa Constabulary, another for the half-dozen Sierra Leone policemen whom the Governor had brought with him, a third for the three or four Fanti police who were at Prahsu, and a fourth for the Kroo labourers. As the area of the camp was rather circumscribed of course one bugle would have been quite sufficient, but then how much glowing military ardour would have been lost for want of use.
I next proceeded to find out the cause of the explosion and the shouting which I had heard. I learned that every morning, directly His Excellency stepped out of bed, a small cohorn mortar, which stood in front of his residence, was fired, an attendant exclaimed for the benefit of the uninitiated, “His Excellency has arisen,” the hour was made five o’clock, and everybody set their watches right. Thus, in addition to his many multifarious duties, the Governor daily undertook the arduous and god-like task of regulating the sun.
At noon the Governor, followed by the Adansi chiefs, went out into the bush, from which they returned about half-past three, and at four the promised palaver took place in the palaver-shed. It consisted merely of the exchange of a few complimentary sentences, and was in fact a dummy palaver, held for the benefit of the public, as His Excellency had had two hours of conversation with the Adansi king in the bush, and had transacted all the real business there.
At about seven o’clock on the morning of the 16th Ashanti messengers arrived on the further bank of the Prah, and, shortly after noon, the Ashanti embassy, consisting of Prince Buaki-tchin-tchin, and delegates from some of the principal districts of the Ashanti kingdom, crossed the river amid great beating of drums and blowing of elephant-tusk horns. Shortly before five the Ashantis, some two hundred and sixty in number, came in procession through the camp, where the Houssas were drawn up for their reception, in the same way as on the occasion of the entry of the king of Adansi, only, as those that we had met at Mansu had since come up, there were now more of them; while to swell the martial pageant all the six hundred labourers were drawn up in line near the palaver-shed with their various implements, those who had old cutlasses for cutting bush being placed in the front, and those with spades and pick-axes more in the rear. Each Ashanti chief or deputy walked under his umbrella, or was carried in his chair on the heads of his slaves, and was followed by his own retainers parading their different insignia; and the whole body proceeded to the palaver-shed and sat down.
At five the Governor made his appearance, attired in the same singular manner as before, and walked to his seat through a lane of obsequious and bowing officials, supported by his two satellites of grotesque appearance. One of the retinue said to me in a stage whisper:—
“His Excellency is a remarkably fine speaker. Listen carefully now, for you will hear some wonderful oratory.”
I said—“Oh! really.”
“Yes—the political leaders at home might well learn a thing or two from him. He especially prides himself upon his manner of addressing natives, who, as of course you know, are themselves excellent orators, and avoid tautology and all such errors.”
I accordingly took out my note-book and put down every word that fell from the august lips. The following is what I wrote: it did not seem to impress the natives much, but then no doubt it was like casting pearls before swine; the retinue listened to each word with rapt attention, and subdued and respectful murmurs of applause greeted each fresh exhibition of rhetorical eloquence, which they considered worthy of a combined Cicero and Demosthenes.
Prince Buaki rose and said:—
“I give my compliments to His Excellency.”
Rowe. “I am glad to see you here. It is always a pleasure for the Government of the Gold Coast to receive an envoy from the king of Ashanti. You do not meet me at home, but out here in the bush; but as you meet me here on your journey you are welcome. I hope your journey has been fairly comfortable.”
Buaki. “Yes, it was comfortable.”
Rowe. “I hope you have not had rain on the way.”
Buaki. “No.”
Rowe. “I am glad to hear that, for rain makes the roads bad in this country. I don’t think we can hope to have fine weather long. What do you think?”
Buaki. “I think so too.”
Rowe. “I hope it will not come on for a few days more; it is not nice to have rain. I hope you found your people well that were left behind.”[6]
Buaki. “Yes, they are well.”
Rowe. “They have come here from Cape Coast. They travel in the bush more comfortably than I do.”
Buaki. “Just so.”
Rowe. “We may look for rain in about three months I suppose. How many months? Two, or three?”
Buaki. “Yes.”
Rowe. “During that time any one who has a house stops in it.”
Buaki. “Yes.”
Rowe. “I don’t like to be caught by rain in the bush. I don’t mind being here in the bush when it is fine. I’m afraid I can’t do much here to make you comfortable.”
Buaki. “I quite understand that.”
Rowe. “Still I am glad to see you, and, as far as I can, I will do my best for you.”
(A pause, and Buaki asks permission to speak.)
Buaki. “Your Excellency’s friend, the king of Ashanti, sent me to see you. While on the road I and my followers were taken sick, so that I had to delay coming down till we were well. I met the sword-bearer, Yow Mensah, at Yan Compene, who told me that you were waiting for me, and I sent him back to say I was coming. I am sorry I did not meet you at home, but I was ill by the way. I wish to know what time you will appoint for the business on which I have come.”
Rowe. “With regard to that I must see how long it will be necessary to remain here, and then I shall have an opportunity of seeing about the matter we have to talk over.”
Buaki. “Very good.”
Rowe. “It is always a pleasure, and has been as I know for many years, to the English Government of the Gold Coast to receive messengers from the king of Ashanti when they are sent. What I am now going to say has no bearing on the point, but, as you have come to me as a special messenger from your king, and as I have already said that I am glad to meet you with a message from your king, I am going to say to you what I said to the former ambassadors, before your arrival. That is: the message I bring with me from the Queen of England is a message of peace, that I am to govern her people, and whilst I am to govern them I am to defend them, and take care of them, and have authority over them. I am also to live on friendly terms with her people.” (To this the interpreter added:—“The Queen is ready for peace or war, whichever you like.”)
Buaki. “I have come down to stop all those small leaks in the roof which have been giving trouble of late. If I cannot do this, we must have a new roof.” (The interpreter rendered this—“I also have come for peace.”)
Rowe. “I will think over the business I have to do in this part, and then I will arrange when and where I can assemble the officers of the Government who are fitting to be present when this matter is discussed. As I said before, the rain is coming. I hope you did not suffer from the rain.”
Buaki. “I did not.”
Rowe. “I hope all your people are well.”
Buaki. “They are all well. I thank you for the care you have taken of my people.”
Rowe. “I am glad they gave me a good name to you. I hope you found the road fairly comfortable?”
Buaki. “I was very comfortable on the road. I am sorry that my sickness prevented my meeting you at home.”
Rowe. “I hope you will be well soon, and I hope you are not in a hurry to go home. You may feel a little tired after your journey and may want rest.”
The palaver then terminated.
The sickness of which Buaki spoke was only a diplomatic fiction, and in speaking of the sword-bearer, Yow Mensah, he unwittingly let a cat out of the bag which the Governor would have much preferred keeping in confinement. As we have seen, the embassy left Coomassie on April 6th, but only arrived at Prahsu on the 16th. Now Buaki well knew that no one would believe that eleven days were required to traverse the seventy-three miles of actual distance from the capital to the river, and not wishing, in the interests of his mission, to inform the Governor of what had really taken place, and let him know how nearly he had made war inevitable, he started the story of having been ill to account for the delay, which, as I have already shown, was caused by Mensah’s order. The Governor had somehow gained an inkling of what was really happening in Ashanti, and, to use the words of a high Colonial official of much experience, seeing that it was no time for further buffoonery, and that peace and war were trembling in the balance, he gave up his supposed dignified attitude of reserve, and, taking the initiative himself, sent Yow Mensah to the envoys to say he was waiting for them.[7] Of course they then came on at once, just as another embassy would have come in response, if at any time after the Governor’s arrival in the Colony a similar message had been sent. Since the Governor had after all to re-open communications himself, it is a pity that he did not do so earlier, instead of keeping the whole Colony in suspense; and if he had not been so fortunate as to hear of what was taking place, and so had not sent the sword-bearer on, it is impossible to say where the mischief would have ended. This narrow escape from hostilities only shows how exceedingly dangerous it is to indulge in any ambiguous action where barbarous races are concerned.
At the termination of the palaver, Buaki and his followers rose and walked round the shed, shaking hands in turn with every European present. As Buaki repeated this ceremony with the Governor, the latter said, through the medium of the interpreter:—
“You see I am not a mud-fish.”
One of the retinue immediately nudged me and said:—
“There! Did you hear that?”
I replied “Yes.”
“Ah! it’s a beautiful simile, now, isn’t it?”
I said “I don’t quite see how.”
“What? You don’t see it?”
“No.”
“That’s strange. You’ve been acquainted with the Coast a long time, too. Well, the mud-fish is a stupid kind of fish, that, instead of trying to escape, buries itself in the mud, and allows itself to be easily caught by the hand. The Governor used the expression to mean that he wasn’t a fool.”
About ten minutes afterwards one of the innumerable secretaries remarked to me:—
“Did you catch that wonderful simile of His Excellency’s about the mud-fish?”
“Oh! yes,” I replied.
“You know what it means, of course?”
“Yes; the mud-fish is a stupid kind of fish that, instead of trying to escape, buries itself in the mud and allows itself to be easily caught by the hand. The Governor used the illustration to mean that he wasn’t a fool.”
“Oh dear no. You’re quite wrong. I’ll tell you what it is. The mud-fish is a cunning kind of fish which, when pursued, stirs up the mud all round, to make the water thick, so that it can’t be seen. The Governor said that he wasn’t a mud-fish, meaning that he had no necessity for hiding his whereabouts.”
This man had hardly moved away before another came up to me, and said:—
“What did you think of His Excellency’s simile of the mud-fish?”
“Oh! I didn’t think much of it.”
“What!! You didn’t think much of that marvellous simile? Why not?”
“Because nobody seems to know what it means.”
“Well, I know, and I will tell you what it means—it is most ingenious. The mud-fish is a fish covered with venomous spines, which cause nasty wounds if you happen to touch them. The Governor said he was not a mud-fish, to re-assure Buaki, and let him know that he was not going to hurt him.”
In the evening a high Colonial official said to me:—
“A pretty simile that of the Governor’s about the mud-fish, wasn’t it?”
“Yes; but its meaning doesn’t seem very clear.”
“Doesn’t seem very clear? Why, my dear fellow, it is patent to the meanest intellect. The mud-fish is a worthless kind of fish that nobody would take the trouble to catch: the Governor used the comparison to mean that he was somebody of importance.”
I have not made up my mind which of these interpretations to adopt; the reader can take any one he likes, but it seems to me that there is a good deal of haze about the subject.
The Ashantis, like the Adansis who had arrived on the 14th, were accommodated with exceedingly airy sheds in the camp, and this accession to our numbers brought up the sum-total of occupants to something over a thousand. The envoys had brought with them two or three small, but apparently heavy, boxes, and these were supposed to contain gold dust, which the king had sent as an earnest of his desire for peace. Prince Buaki was a fine-looking man over six feet in height; I had known beforehand that he must be a handsome man, since the ladies of the blood-royal in Ashanti are only allowed to form connections with strikingly presentable men, so that, as the female branches take precedence of the male in furnishing heirs to the throne, the comeliness of their kings may be, as far as possible, assured; but I was not prepared to see such an unusually good specimen of the negro race. I was much struck too with the wonderful difference between the physiognomies of the chiefs and those of their followers and slaves, a difference which is barely perceptible among the tribes who have long been subject to us, such as the Fanti; but which, among the independent inland races, the most careless observer cannot help noticing. The chiefs have almost invariably a look of intelligence, and are generally of a fine physique; but the retainers and slaves possess features and characteristics of a very low type indeed. This of course is chiefly due to the principle of selection, as, for generations past, the chiefs, who are able to pick and choose, have selected the best-looking women for their wives, while the vulgar herd have had to take what they can get. On the sea-board this has been done also, but there the formation of an intermediate trading-class of natives, between the chiefs and the lower orders, has blended by imperceptible gradations the distinguishing characteristics of the two extremes. It is worthy of notice that the women whom the chiefs choose are those who, according to European ideas, possess the largest share of good looks; which goes far to prove that we have a common ideal of beauty, and that, in spite of the popular belief, negroes do not regard mountainous cheek bones, flattened noses, uptilted nostrils, and blubber lips, as the true types of loveliness.
The following Ashantis of note were in the suite of Prince Buaki. Yow Badoo, personal attendant of the king, Yeboa, representative of the royal family of Ashanti, two sons of the late King Quaco Duah, and the brother and son of Prince Buaki. The chiefs of Becquai, Mampon, Kokofuah, and Insuta, each sent a representative, as did Awooah, chief of Bantama, the Ashanti general; the remainder of the embassy consisted of the usual personal attendants, with a sword-bearer and four courtiers. The districts of Archwa, Assomyah, Denyasi, Inquantansi, and Inquaransah, were unrepresented: the last-named is one of the most important in the Ashanti kingdom, and, next to Kokofuah, furnishes the largest contingent for the army. A representative from the Amoaful district arrived in the camp next day.
As the kingdom of Ashanti is divided into ten large districts, it is clear that the embassy represented only half the nation, which in fact was to be expected, and as at least three of the districts represented, namely, Becquai, Bantama, and Amoaful, had originally been amongst the foremost of those forming the war-party, and had only been persuaded to remain passive through the king’s personal influence, the prevailing state of feeling in Ashanti could be very fairly guaged. Indeed, looking at the vast preponderance of the “war” over the “court” party it is a matter for surprise that Mensah should have been able to bring the difficulty to an amicable settlement, and this difficulty was by no means lessened by the fact that Prince Buaki himself was strongly in favour of hostilities. That the king’s task was further made more onerous by the extraordinary action of the Colonial Government I have already shown.
The day after the meeting between Sir Samuel Rowe and the Ashanti envoys it was made known that in a few days the camp would be broken up, and that all its occupants,—officers, labourers, carriers, police, Adansis, and Ashantis,—would proceed to Elmina, where a final palaver was to be held to settle the Ashanti question. As the Governor now said that he had all along intended settling the matter on the sea-board, either at Acra, Cape Coast, or Elmina, his bush expedition only seemed the more extraordinary; as, apart from the political evil consequences that resulted from it, and the great expense to which the Colony had been put to no purpose, by being compelled to provide for an army of labourers and hammock-men, and to defray the extra cost of bush-life, he had, as it seemed, without any reasonable cause, imperilled the healths, if not the lives, of a number of European officers, by encamping them, without proper shelter or comforts, on the banks of the miasmatic Prah.
Fortunately the rains had not set in as early as usual, but Prahsu was quite sufficiently unhealthy for all ordinary purposes: after dark, a cold, wet, white mist shrouded every object, and to venture outside one’s tent at night was to become saturated with moisture and chilled to the bone. Had the rains set in the consequences would have been most disastrous, as, if the river had overflown its banks ever so slightly, the camp would have been inundated, while the wretched habitations that had been provided would not have kept out a smart shower, much less a heavy tropical downpour. Sometimes the mist was so dense that, standing on one bank, one could not see across the river, and the muddy flood rolled on under its mantle of vapour, as under a shroud through the rifts of which the moonbeams faintly struggled in a deathly silence, broken only now and then by the weird cries of the tree-sloth, which, to a fanciful mind, might sound like the wailing of a spirit of one of the many scores of Europeans whose lives have been sacrificed to the spectral stream. The approach to the camp, on the side where the main road came in, was in an indescribable condition of filth, which might easily have been prevented had proper precautions been only taken at first; and on the other sides, where the forest had been cleared, the rank vegetation had been allowed to lie where it fell, putrefying and poisoning the air.
Had there been much mortality at Prahsu a storm of indignation would have burst out in England at a camp having again been established there in spite of the warnings of history; but, because no deaths occurred actually on the spot, the breaking of the West African golden rule was not the less-advised; this rule forbids, except in cases of urgent necessity, the removal of Europeans from the health-giving sea-breezes and from such poor comforts as the wretched Colony affords.