The country between Geba and Igga is uninteresting; no villages, or scarcely any, were passed, and there was no cultivation. The appearance of the banks is much what it is between Say and Bussa; a few karités occur here and there, that is all. We met a canoe now and then only. The oil-palms, which had begun to appear beyond Say, now became more numerous, but the country still appeared deserted.
In a large plain near Igga there is a factory kept by a white man. Just before we reached it we saw a big boat called the Nigritian, which was formerly the pontoon of Yola. The Royal Niger Company had just been driven from the Benuë and from the Adamawa; its trading agents had been recalled, together with the pontoon they had been authorized to use on the river. This must have been a very severe blow to the Company, for much of the ivory exported through their agents came from Adamawa and Muri.
The Ribago, a pretty little craft of from six to seven hundred tons, is moored at Igga. She is the best boat belonging to the Company. She brings down palm-oil in the nut before it is extracted, karités and other articles for export. The oil is of a very fine quality indeed. It will probably be the Ribago which will tow us down-stream if all is satisfactorily settled with the Company about Bussa and Auru.
The agent at Igga thought we should find Mr. Wallace at Lokodja. I was very anxious to see him, for it is with him I must get the misunderstanding, if misunderstanding there were, explained. His word alone would suffice to exonerate the Company from blame, and only if he could give me that word, should I care to accept his good offices on my behalf.
After passing an hour at our anchorage at Igga, we started for Lokodja to look for Mr. Wallace, whom it was very difficult to catch. Fortunately for us, the current was still very strong, but navigation was very tiring, for with the banks inundated as they were, it was difficult to find the bottom amongst the tall grass. Late in the evening we at last anchored near the left bank, and landed to cook a hasty meal. Fili, one of the coolies who looked after the kitchen department, had cleared a corner of bushes and lit a fire when, all of a sudden, the men made a rush for the boats screaming manians! manians! They had been attacked by the black ants they call manians, the bite of which is very severe. No cooking for us to-night, no meal however simple! No sleep either for our poor men, for the rain began to pour down again. Worse still, the terrible manians began to climb on board by the anchor-chains, by the ropes of the grappling-hooks, by everything, in fact, which held us to the bank. They had come to storm the barges, and the ropes and chains became black with their swarms. The only way we were able to check this novel kind of invasion was by lowering the chains and ropes into the water.
This horribly comfortless night over, we started again with almost empty stomachs. The scenery was very picturesque, but although the water was high we felt the boats grate on the rocks lining the bed of the stream. Navigation must be generally far from easy here.
The vegetation now became denser, and the oil-palm of much more frequent occurrence. There were, however, few villages, and they became further apart, on the banks at least, as we advanced. At last in the evening our pilot told us we were approaching Lokodja. Picturesque hills, from about six hundred to a thousand feet high, lined the right bank, whilst on the left we could see the mouth of the Benuë, now greatly increased in width by inundations.
About six o’clock we came in sight of the huts of the village, rising in tiers from the slopes of a hill, their zinc roofs shining amongst the verdure in the glow of the setting sun. We were at Lokodja, and as it was nearly night we anchored off the bank.
Here we found Mr. Drew, the executive officer of the Company for the Lokodja-Geba district, for whom we had waited in vain at Geba, and also another officer who spoke French.
We were received with all due etiquette and invited to dinner. We talked about the river; and Mr. Drew, who did not allow himself to show any surprise at our having passed safely down it, must really have been astonished. He told us he had himself achieved the arduous task of going over the rapids in a light canoe accompanied by one man only. He had intended to go down to Bussa by the channel used by the natives. He had even been capsized, and dragged down into the whirlpool. He owed his life entirely to his canoe-man, who had plunged after him and brought him up from the bottom. He still had the scar of a wound he had got from the sharp flints, amongst which he had been rolled over and over.