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

by F. S. Brereton

The words of encouragement and a last cheer came to them as they boarded the launch. There was a sharp order from Mr Pepson, then the engines revolved, the propeller thrashed the water, and they were off, Dick and his friend watching the receding figures on the shore, while the sprightly Van Somering climbed to the highest point of the narrow deck and there held himself with head erect so that all might view him and admire.

“A great swell he is, too,” laughed Mr Pepson, as he and Dick turned from the shore. “His appearance alone should mean our security from attack.”

And our hero was fain to agree. For the fat little Dutchman had exceeded any former attempt. True, he was dressed in the same loose clothing, made of the selfsame material as worn by his comrades. But his vanity had added embellishments to it. His shirt was red, a red which dazzled the eye, while the belt which surrounded his ample waist was some five inches in width—strong enough, in fact, to bear the weight of two such Dutchmen, while it carried in front an enormous revolver and a dagger of like proportions, all of which made it appear as if Meinheer Van Somering were a man of pugnacious disposition, and therefore to be avoided.

An hour later, a little while after the sun had risen over the jungle, the launch glided into the river at Elmina, and came to rest close to the mole.

“We will see first of all that our stores are here,” said Mr Pepson, as he leaped ashore. “Then we will move on without delay. Come with me, Dick, and go over the list of our possessions.”

Everything had been sent on some few days before from the neighbourhood of Cape Coast Castle, where they had been landed from the steamer, and thanks to the careful foresight of Mr Pepson, Dick found that three dugouts, of large proportions, lay close to the mole, roped firmly together, and in these were disposed the belongings of the expedition. In the bows of one was the brass gun, while there were sniders in all three and an ample supply of ammunition. In addition, half a dozen Fanti warriors sat on the thwarts waiting for the forward move.

“Hook on the launch,” said Mr Pepson. “Now, all aboard. Send her ahead, Johnnie.”

Johnnie was the native boy who had been trained to man the engines of the launch, and he rejoiced in the name given. At the word he opened the steam throttle till the merest jet was fed to the cylinders, and gently drew ahead of the boats, slowly stretching out the hawser connecting them till it was taut. Then again there was a commotion at the end of the launch. The water was thrashed into foam, the ropes creaked and stretched, and finally the launch was under way, the three boats following gaily in the wake of the plucky steamer. Mr Pepson was at the wheel, and promptly put his helm over till they were heading for the very centre of the river.

“All clear here,” he said, with a smile. “Now we make out for the sea, for this is not the river Pra. It lies a few miles to the west. Once there we shall not always have a wide, open stretch to steer through, particularly when we have ascended a few miles. Then, indeed, the fun will commence, for there are sure to be sandbanks and shallows, while I believe that crocodiles abound. In any case the river will narrow, and before very long the trees will come closer together and will shelter us from the sun. Send her full steam ahead, Johnnie.”

By now they were feeling the swell at the mouth of the harbour of Elmina, and for some minutes all clung to the sides, for the light craft were tossed by the enormous surf running outside. When that was safely passed the steam launch turned to the west, and they went off along the coast, just as they had done that morning, watching the white sandy beach as they swept past it, the interminable forests beyond, and the blue haze hanging over the hills and mountains in the distance. Two hours later they reached the mouth of the river, and having approached it carefully, for mud banks lay off it in many directions, they shot into an open channel, and soon found themselves ascending the Pra, a broad river, there known as the Bustum.