About the middle of June the rains began to set in, accompanied by violent tornadoes. The earth was quickly covered with water. The soldiers were affected with vomiting, or with an irresistible inclination to sleep. Our traveller himself was affected in a similar manner during the storm, and, notwithstanding that he used every exertion to keep away heaviness, at length fell asleep on the damp ground. The soldiers did the same thing. In the morning twelve of them were sick. In this vicinity he saw many pits, from which gold was obtained in large quantities by washing. As the caravan proceeded, many of the soldiers growing delirious, or too weak to continue the march, were left behind to the care of the natives; while others died on the road, or were drowned in the rivers. Some, still more unfortunate if possible, were lost in the woods, where they were no doubt devoured by wild beasts. Meanwhile the natives, who imagined that the caravan contained prodigious wealth, hung upon their march, plundered them at every turn, and as often as they appeared too weak to resist, endeavoured to extort presents from them.
The condition of the men now became desperate. Day after day some poor wretch was abandoned to his fate, some in one way, some in another. I give one example which may serve for the whole. “Three miles east of the village of Koombandi,” says Park, “William Alston, one of the seamen whom I received from his majesty’s ship Squirrel, became so faint that he fell from his ass, and allowed the ass to run away. Set him on my horse, but found he could not sit without holding him. Replaced him on the ass, but he still tumbled off. Put him again on the horse, and made one man hold him upright while I led the horse; but, as he made no exertion to hold himself erect, it was impossible to keep him on the horse, and after repeated tumbles he begged to be left in the woods till morning. I left a loaded pistol with him, and put some cartridges into the crown of his hat.”
In crossing the Wondu the caravan was nearly deprived of its guide in the following manner: “Our guide, Isaaco, was very active in pushing the asses into the water, and shoving along the canoe; but as he was afraid that we could not have them all carried over in the course of the day, he attempted to drive six of the asses across the river farther down, where the water was shallower. When he had reached the middle of the river, a crocodile rose close to him, and instantly seizing him by the left thigh, pulled him under water. With wonderful presence of mind he felt the head of the animal, and thrust his finger into its eye, on which it quitted its hold, and Isaaco attempted to reach the farther shore, calling loudly for a knife. But the crocodile returned and seized him by the other thigh, and again pulled him under water; he had recourse to the same expedient, and thrust his fingers into its eyes with such violence that it again quitted him; when it arose, flounced about on the surface of the water as if stupid, and then swam down the middle of the river. Isaaco proceeded to the other side, bleeding very much.”
This event retarded for several days the march of the caravan. Besides, Park himself was attacked with fever, and their provisions, moreover, were now reduced to so low an ebb, that upon examination it was found that no more than rice for two days remained in their possession. This deficiency was, therefore, to be immediately supplied. Two persons were sent away with an ass to a distant village for rice, and in the mean time our traveller devoted his attentions to the wounds of the guide. The sailor who had been abandoned in the woods here rejoined the caravan quite naked, having been robbed of his clothes by the natives. The audacity of these thieves was extraordinary. In ascending an eminence two miles from Maniakono, Park himself was robbed in a very characteristic manner:—“As I was holding my musket carelessly in my hand, and looking round,” says he, “two of Numma’s sons came up to me; one of them requested me to give him some snuff; at this instant the other (called Woosaba), coming up behind me, snatched the musket from my hand, and ran off with it. I instantly sprung from the saddle and followed him with my sword, calling to Mr. Anderson to ride back, and tell some of the people to look after my horse. Mr. Anderson got within musket-shot of him; but, seeing it was Numma’s son, had some doubts about shooting him, and called to me if he should fire. Luckily I did not hear him, or I might possibly have recovered my musket at the risk of a long palaver, and perhaps the loss of half our baggage. The thief accordingly made his escape among the rocks; and when I returned to my horse, I found the other of the royal descendants had stolen my coat.”
Their condition was now exceedingly distressing. Not only the soldiers and sailors, but Scott and Anderson began to lag behind, being attacked by fever, the first effect of which in those countries is to deprive the sufferer of his energies. Having remained for some time by the wayside with his dying friend, he placed him, when his strength appeared for a moment to return, upon his horse, and pushed forward towards their proposed halting-place, leading the horse by the bridle. “We had not proceeded above a mile,” says Park, “before we heard on our left a noise very much like the barking of a large mastiff, but ending in a hiss like the fuff[1] of a cat. I thought it must be some large monkey; and was observing to Mr. Anderson, ‘What a bouncing fellow that must be,’ when we heard another bark nearer to us, and presently a third still nearer, accompanied with a growl. I now suspected some wild beast meant to attack us, but could not conjecture of what species it was likely to be. We had not proceeded a hundred yards farther, when, coming to an opening in the bushes, I was not a little surprised to see three lions coming towards us. They were not so red as the lion I had formerly seen in Bambarra, but of a dusky colour, like that of an ass. They were very large, and came bounding over the long grass, not one after another, but all abreast of each other. I was afraid, if I allowed them to come too near us, and my piece should miss fire, that we should all be devoured by them. I therefore let go the bridle, and walked forwards to meet them. As soon as they were within a long shot of me, I fired at the centre one. I do not think I hit him; but they all stopped, looked at each other, and then bounded away a few paces, when one of them stopped and looked back at me. I was too busy in loading my piece to observe their motions as they went away, and was very happy to see the last of them march slowly off among the bushes. We had not proceeded above half a mile farther when we heard another bark and growl close to us among the bushes. This was, doubtless, one of the lions before seen; and I was afraid they would follow us till dark, when they would have too many opportunities of springing on us unawares. We however heard no more of them.”
[1] Fuff is an expressive Scotch word, applicable in its original sense to the explosive noise which a cat makes in flying at a dog.
At length, from the brow of a hill, Park had once more the satisfaction of beholding the Niger, rolling its immense stream along the plain. But he was in no mood of mind to triumph at the sight. The majority of his companions had fallen on the way; of thirty-four soldiers and four carpenters who left the Gambia, only six soldiers and one carpenter reached the Niger. With this miserable remnant of his original force he descended the hill, and pitched his tents near the town of Bambakoo. Here some of the party embarked in canoes on the Niger, while others proceeded by land to the neighbourhood of Sego, which they reached on the 19th of September. Mansong was still king of Bambarra; and being highly gratified with their presents, not only gave them permission to build a boat on the Niger at whatever town they pleased, but engaged to protect, as far as his power extended, the trade of the whites in the interior. Park selected Sansanding as the place most eligible for building the boat, and removed thither as quickly as possible. Here immediately on his arrival he opened a shop, exhibiting a choice assortment of European goods, which sold so well among the natives that his success excited the envy of the Jinnic people, the Moors, and the other merchants of the place, who offered Mansong merchandise to a much greater value than the presents made him by Park, if he would either kill the strangers or drive them out of the country. Mansong, however, rejected the offer. “From the 8th to the 16th nothing of consequence occurred; I found my shop every day more and more crowded with customers; and such was my run of business, that I was sometimes forced to employ three tellers at once to count my cash. I turned one market-day twenty-five thousand seven hundred and fifty-six pieces of money (cowries).”
Park now received intelligence of the death of Mr. Scott, who had been left behind near Bambakoo. Mansong very soon convinced the traveller that he understood the art of receiving presents much better than that of returning them; for upon being requested to furnish a canoe in which the mission, now reduced to a very small number, might embark on the Niger, he sent one after another several half-rotten barks; two of which Park, seeing no hope of getting better, was at length compelled to accept, and with these he constructed what he termed a schooner. Shortly after this he lost his friend Anderson, upon whose death “I felt myself,” says he, “as if left a second time lonely and friendless amid the wilds of Africa.” Dreary and perilous as was his position, however, he still determined to persevere. His companions were now reduced to four, Lieutenant Martyn and three soldiers, one of whom was deranged in his mind; yet with this wretched remnant of a detachment which, it must be confessed, had been thus thinned, or rather annihilated, by his own ill management and want of foresight, he purposed following the course of the Niger to its termination, whether that should prove to be in some great lake or inland sea, or, as he rather believed, in the Atlantic Ocean. And this voyage, says one of his biographers, one of the most formidable ever attempted, was to be undertaken in a crazy and ill-appointed vessel, manned by a few negroes and a few Europeans!
On the 16th of November, having completed all the necessary preparations for his voyage, our traveller put the finishing hand to his journal; and in the interval between that and his embarkation, which seems to have taken place on the 19th, wrote several letters to England. These letters, together with the journal, were then delivered to his guide Isaaco, by whom they were conveyed to the Gambia, from whence they were transmitted to England; after which nothing certain or authentic can be said to have been heard either of Park or the expedition. In 1806, however, vague accounts of the death of Park and his companions were brought to the British settlements on the coast by the native traders from the interior; but several years elapsed without any further intelligence being obtained. At length, in 1810, Colonel Maxwell, governor of Senegal, despatched Park’s guide, Isaaco, into the interior, for the purpose of ascertaining the truth or falsehood of the reports which prevailed, and, should they prove correct, of collecting information respecting the place and manner of the catastrophe.
After an absence of one year and eight months Isaaco returned to Senegal, and delivered to the governor a journal of his proceedings, including a narrative which he had received from Amadi Fatouma, the guide who accompanied Park from Sansanding down the Niger. The particulars of Isaaco’s adventures it is altogether unnecessary to describe. He found Amadi Fatouma at Madina, a village distant a few hours from Sansanding. On seeing Isaaco, and hearing the name of Park, he began to weep; and his first words were, “They are all dead.” The recollection of the melancholy transaction appeared to affect him in an extraordinary manner, and it was with the utmost reluctance that he at length consented to recall to memory an event which he seemed peculiarly desirous of delivering over to oblivion. However, upon the pressing entreaties of Isaaco, he narrated circumstantially what had taken place. Upon leaving Sansanding, there were, he said, nine persons in the canoe; Park, Martyn, three other white men, three slaves, and himself as their guide and interpreter. They had proceeded but a very little way down the river before they were pursued and attacked by the Africans in canoes, particularly in passing Timbuctoo, where a great number of the natives were killed. Shortly after passing Goronmo, they lost one white man by sickness. They were now, therefore, reduced to eight; but as each person had always fifteen muskets loaded and ready for action, they were still formidable to their enemies.