One of the chief difficulties was to find a servant who could speak the requisite languages and who was willing to accompany me to Algiers. In West Africa the language problem is always a difficult one. Tribes are so numerous, and all speak different languages. In many cases these languages bear not the slightest resemblance to one another, and are exceedingly hard to acquire. By a stroke of good fortune I succeeded in procuring a Susu native, who had a fair idea of cooking for white men, and according to himself, “saveed plenty all the talk master want.” This, being interpreted into plain English, meant that he could speak fluently the languages I required. Having had some experience of the West African negro and his capacity for lying without turning a hair, I took the precaution to put him to the test. He was made to discourse at some length with a Malinké and a Bambara, these being the two languages most necessary, and as he acquitted himself fairly satisfactorily, I engaged him forthwith. After crossing the French frontier these two languages were those most widely spoken until I should enter the Sahara. Here only Tuaregs and Arabs would be met with. I had a sufficient colloquial knowledge of Arabic for practical purposes. Further, I knew that at the big French centres I could always procure an interpreter if necessary; at the same time I wished if possible to avoid having any dealings with these gentry, as they have gained a not undeserved reputation for being first-class rogues, who, in the name of their masters, extort presents from the ignorant natives of the villages through which one passes.
In West Africa baggage is made up in loads not exceeding sixty pounds, and is carried by native porters on their heads. Consequently all my possessions had to be arranged in a manner suitable for this kind of transport. Most West African “bush paths” are not more than three or four feet wide at most, hence carriers have to walk in Indian file; indeed, so accustomed are they to this mode of progression that even where Government has built wider roads, they can never be induced to walk otherwise than one behind the other. As paths are usually so narrow, being enclosed on each side by dense bush, loads, besides not being too heavy, must not be too bulky. I had altogether fourteen carrier’s loads. My plan was to follow the Sierra Leone Railway to its terminus at Pendembu, where I arranged to pick up my carriers.
One of my chief difficulties was to arrange for money on the journey. To carry a large sum, such as would be required for the whole expedition, on my person or in my baggage, would be highly imprudent, and only act as a tempting bait to the numerous thieves and highwaymen who are always met with in these countries. There was the further complication of requiring English and French money. After some trouble I settled with a French firm at Freetown for drafts payable at two different places on my route, and a further draft to be paid at Marseilles. I was the more easily able to arrange this as, after leaving Sierra Leone, the whole of my journey would be through French possessions.
As it would be impossible for mails to reach me, I resigned myself, not altogether regretfully, to being without letters for the next five or six months. At last my preparations were complete, and on the 6th of January I left Tower Hill Barracks to catch the seven o’clock morning train from Freetown for Bo, where a halt is made the first night. It was with feelings of joy at getting away from civilization, and the delightful pleasure of knowing I should spend the next few months in close contact with all the beauties of nature, that I set forth that glorious tropical morning. It is somehow easier to cast aside the gnawing cares of the world when one is alone with nature. In tropical Africa nature is so beautiful that the most unimaginative being can hardly fail to be stirred by her fascinating charms and forget for the time the existence of sordid civilization.
The scene that met my eye at the station was a busy and amusing one. Most of the people present were the so-called Creoles. These people are the inhabitants of Freetown who have become civilized more or less, and are fond of aping the European dress and customs. The young men wear stiff collars and starched shirts with the gaudiest ties and handkerchiefs imaginable, while the ladies vie with one another in the brightness of the hues of their frocks. On their heads they wear the most brilliant coloured handkerchiefs, and this is the prettiest part of their dress. The crowd around the little train is so great that it is only with considerable difficulty that one is able to approach one’s carriage. Everyone is talking at the same time, so the noise is deafening. It must be understood that not one-tenth part of this crowd is going in the train, most of them are only idle spectators. The departure of the train is always a great excitement for the Sierra Leone native and invariably attracts a large and fashionable mob. At last all preparations are complete, the guard blows his whistle, those who are passengers are unceremoniously bundled into the train, whilst the spectators are as unceremoniously bundled out of the way, and amidst final good-byes from the assembly on the platform we steam out of the station.
The babel of voices having ceased, comparative quiet now reigns, and at last I have a chance of collecting my thoughts and observing my fellow-travellers. We are three in my compartment, all going together as far as Bo. Each of us is provided with an ample “chop-box,” or luncheon-basket. In West Africa it is a well-established maxim never to get separated from two articles: namely, one’s bedding with mosquito curtain, and one’s “chop-box.” These two things are most necessary to one’s comfort, if not to one’s existence. Without the bed and mosquito curtain you will be devoured by mosquitoes, with the almost certain result of a bad dose of fever. Without the box of provisions one runs the risk of starvation.
One of my companions is a trader, who is going up-country to investigate the advisability of starting a new store in a district recently opened up by the railway. The Sierra Leone line has done much to increase the trade of the colony and hinterland during the past few years. Trade in palm kernels and ground nuts is brisk, and the railway has quite as much as it can do to cope with the goods traffic.
The other is a bank official going to Bo on some duty connected with his bank, which has large interests in the protectorate.
The Sierra Leone Government Railway is a line of narrow gauge running almost due east from Freetown for 220 miles. Its terminus is at Pendembu, close to the Liberian frontier. Officially the railway ends at Baiima, 212 miles from the capital of the colony, the last eight miles being called a tramway, but practically there is no difference between the railway and the tramway, and both are of identical gauge. There is also a tramway running from Boia into the Yonni country. Trains run three times a week in both directions. Travelling is not comfortable judged by the standard of English railways, the compartments are small, the seats of the carriages are uncommonly hard, and the line is roughly laid. But greater comfort will no doubt come in time, and it is an undoubted boon for the traveller to have a railway of any description; in the olden days these 200 odd miles used to take him fourteen or fifteen days with carriers instead of only two.