With Wolseley to Kumasi: A Tale of the First Ashanti War

by F. S. Brereton

There was a menace in the sailor’s looks, and the rifle and cutlass with which he was armed supported the threat. The native stood upright, looking perhaps a little disconcerted.

“Tell me how long you have been near Elmina, and how many of your comrades are there?” asked Dick, in the Ashanti tongue.

Astonishment was written on the man’s face, and Dick noticed an expression of dismay. But it disappeared at once and the answer came glibly.

“I have been there a week. My comrades, all that remain, lie here on this deck. We were bringing our goods to Elmina.”

“That is a lie,” said Dick quietly, watching the man closely as he spoke. “You are an Ashanti. That I know for certain. Your comrades fired at us from the shore, and you were not carrying goods. Guns and swords formed your only cargo. Now, listen. You have news to give, and I require it. If you give it, you will be unharmed; if you lie, you will be killed. I will count my fingers over four times, and if at the end you have not spoken the truth you will be shot. That is the decision of my friend who sits beside me.”

At once he began to count, while the native watched him, at first with looks of incredulity, and then with an expression of concern. Meanwhile there was tense silence amongst the group, save for the muttered words coming from Dick. He was nearing the end of his count, and as if to emphasise the fact, and at a nod from our hero, one of the sailors pulled back the lock of his rifle with a click. It was an ugly and an ominous sound, and in an instant it had the desired effect.

“I will speak, white chief,” said the prisoner, hastily. “It is true that my comrades are up the river. How many I do not know, but there is an army. We have been there for weeks, and are starving. There is nothing more to tell.”

Dick nodded curtly. “Take him into the cabin and see that he does not communicate with the others,” he said. “Now, let us have another prisoner.”

One by one the Ashanti prisoners were brought to the stern of the launch and interrogated, and the story told by all was precisely the same. The Ashantis were in force in the jungle lying within a few miles of Elmina and between that part and the river Pra. They had fraternised with the Elminas and other natives, nominally under our protection, and for the most part they were almost starving. They were awaiting the moment when they might attack the white men. There could be no doubt about the truth of their tale, for they had each said the same, and had had no time to concoct a story.

“We shall be welcome home again,” said Dick, with a smile, as he rose from the well. “It is true that we have not yet gained information of the country beyond the Prahsu, but then there is plenty of time, for the troops who are to come out will not be here for some six weeks, and there are insufficient here now to make the march to Kumasi. But there may be enough men for this expedition to Elmina. That will, of course, rest with Sir Garnet, but they say he is a dashing leader, and I fancy he will strike a blow. Full steam, Johnnie. The sooner we are back the better.”