“Why,” he asked abruptly as they took their places before him, “do the English take my town of Elmina?”
Mr. Goodenough explained that he had been nine months absent from the coast, and that having come straight out from England he was altogether unaware of what had happened at Elmina.
“Elmina is mine,” the king said. “The Dutch, who were my tributaries, had no right to hand it over to the English.”
“But I understood, your majesty, that the English were ready to pay an annual sum, even larger than that which the Dutch have contributed.”
“I do not want money,” the king said. “I have gold in plenty. There are places in my dominions where ten men in a day can wash a thousand ounces. I want Elmina, I want to trade with the coast.”
“But the English will give your majesty every facility for trade.”
“But suppose we quarrel,” the king said, “they can stop powder and guns from coming up. If Elmina were mine I could bring up guns and powder at all times.”
“Your majesty would be no better off,” Mr. Goodenough said; “for the English in case of war could stop supplies from entering.”
“My people will drive them into the sea,” the king said. “We have been troubled with them too long. They can make guns, but they cannot fight. My people will eat them up. We fought them before; and see,” he said pointing to a great drum, from the edge of which hung a dozen human skulls, “the heads of the White men serve to make a fetish for me.”
He then waved his hand to signify that the audience was terminated.