Leaving the main road at Dunquah the army moved slowly through the bush towards Elmina, thirty miles distant, halting in the woods some eight miles from the town, and twelve from Cape Coast.
“I am going,” the general said, “to look at the English forts. My white friend will go with me.”
With fifty of his warriors Ammon Quatia left the camp, and crossing a stream came down upon the sea coast, a short distance west of Elmina. With them were several of the Elmina tribe, who had come up to the camp to welcome the Ashantis. They approached to within three or four hundred yards of the fort, which was separated from them by a river.
The forts on the west coast of Africa, not being built to resist artillery, are merely barracks surrounded by high walls sufficiently thick to allow men to walk in single file along the top, to fire over the parapet. The tops of the walls being castellated, the buildings have an appearance of much strength. The fort of Elmina is of considerable size, with a barrack and officers' quarters within it. One side faces the river, and another the sea.
“It is a wonderful fort,” the Ashanti general said, much impressed by its appearance.
“Yes,” Frank replied. “And there are cannon on the top, those great black things you see sticking out. Those are guns, and each carries balls enough to kill a hundred men with each shot.”
The general looked for some time attentively. “But you have castles in the white men's country, how do you take them?”
“We bring a great many cannon throwing balls of iron as big as my head,” Frank answered, “and so knock a great hole in the wall and then rush in.”
“But if there are no cannon?” the general urged.
“We never attack a castle without cannon,” Frank said. “But if we had no cannon we might try to starve the people out; but you cannot do that here, because they would land food from the sea.”