“My bedroom was about twelve feet by four, with holes in the bamboo roof about eight feet high that let the rain and rats come in, and holes in the floor, probably to allow both to make their exit. There was neither stool, chair, nor table, nor any article of furniture except the bed. This was made of two empty gun chests, covered with a native country mat, and having no pillow save a log of wood. The creek by which we voyaged up was within five yards of the door, and when the tide was low bull frogs, crocodiles, and mud fish could gambol about in their native parterre in the remorseless swamp, on which a human being trying to walk would certainly be swallowed up. The odour from this place at the time of our visit was indescribable, and the sensation that it brought to my olfactory nerves was far from being like that of the south wind breathing o’er a bed of violets, stealing, and giving odour.
“As soon as I had seated myself on the bed (?), with a cigar in my mouth (for to sleep with all those accessories would have been a vain attempt), and had blown out my palm-oil lamp, down came the mosquitoes in showers, followed by some rats, which descended after them without waiting for an invitation. A few of the latter fell near to where I was sitting, and I made a furious tilt at them with a stick I had placed near me. This of course alarmed them and made them beat a retreat for some time. But as if in mockery of my chivalry within doors, outside the bull frogs commenced croaking in dozens, communicating as agreeable a sensation by their music as a rasping of a file over a rusty saw. I lay down and tried to sleep, but it was no use. In a few moments the rats were again gambolling on the roof. A slight shuffling movement which I heard on the floor made me fearful that at any minute I might be rendered conscious of something slimy in contact with my hand or face, probably a mud fish (or jump fish, as it is called by Kroomen), a kind of amphibious reptile that appears like a cross-breed between a conger-eel and a chameleon. How stupid I was to have blown out my light.
“What noise is that? Female voices outside. Who in the name of goodness are they, passing and repassing in the king’s harem—ever gabbling, gabbling, gabbling! This amusement going on during the whole livelong night with the companionship of the rats, musquitoes, and bull-frogs put a thousand strange notions into my head. Can they be going to the creek-side to sacrifice, perhaps infants? Are they on their way to undergo the process of laving in that sweet stream? If the former be their purpose, they must be out-Heroding Herod; if the latter, a Turkish bath with shampooing of curry comb would seem very appropriate for the majority of the ladies whom I saw to-day in the streets, and whose bodies were daubed over with a greasy cosmetic of red (styled in the Nimbe language Umbia), which gives the anointed the semblance of a highly tinged red Indian. But down they go and back they come, never tiring, never relenting, never showing compassion, till morning dawned, when I opened the door cautiously, and looked out.
“Some were standing in the mud, others were lifting fish and nets out of canoes. They were the king’s fisherwomen. Following their professional pursuits during the night, they had kept me in this condition of restless curiosity. Talk of Billingsgate indeed! I looked at them and there they were, wet, muddy, and slimy, like so many ebony mermaids, but still prattling and talking, their tongues clattering as if these organs were so many untirable steam engines.
“There was no use in giving them a bit of my mind, for I did not understand a word of their language, and they did not comprehend mine. It may be useless to record that I did not go down on my knees in the mud to pray for them. I was unheroic enough to imagine that a wiser thing than that, as far as my own comfort was concerned, would be to quit the Nimbe country as soon as I could: so my boys having got into the boat, I gave his sable majesty a more fervent than friendly shake of the hand, and turned my back on his territory with feelings in which I cannot say there were any sentiments of regret.”
Another night’s lodging, this time on the banks of the river Gambia. If any good Catholic wishes to perform an act of penance, second only to the tortures of purgatory, let him take a voyage to the Gambia, and let him sleep at Bathurst, if only for one night, at a certain season of the year. The traveller, on extinguishing his candle and stretching his wearied limbs, hears a distant roaring, which apparently proceeds from the ceiling of his chamber, and he, wondering what this may be, composes himself for slumber. Next he distinguishes a perpetual dull thump, thump, totally antagonistic to rest, sounding from all parts of the town far and near, and marvelling yet more what this may portend, concludes—if speculative—that the natives are celebrating some barbarous orgie, and that the noise is the music of the tom-tom. But while thus reasoning, the roaring approaches nearer and nearer, till it is as audible and like a thousand fairy fiddles playing excruciatingly out of tune. But the problem soon is solved. The note of a little shrill trumpet penetrates the inmost recesses of the ear; a sting is felt, the trumpeter performs now at one ear, now at the other, then adds a sting on the eye, which organ is damaged by the victim’s frantic attempts to crush the foe. He now finds that he is assailed by mosquitoes, and becomes so irritated by the constant buzzing and biting of his unseen foes darting now here, now there, within the mosquito curtain,—he seizes his pillow, flings it at the spot whence the sound last proceeded, but the missile, breaking the mosquito curtain, admits a bloodthirsty cloud, which, “smelling the blood of an Englishman,” settles on him, whizzing, buzzing, and biting, causing the unfortunate to suffer tortures worse than those with which Tantalus was afflicted. Sleep is near, but continually eludes his grasp, and as a last resource, stifling hot as it is, he covers himself from head to foot with the sheet. Woe if he leaves an inch of flesh exposed! Again he endeavours to sleep, but the infernal mysterious pounding, together with the horrid yells of the enemy, effectually preclude that desirable consummation, and, swearing lustily, he resigns himself with a groan to hold a nocturnal vigil, congratulating himself at least he has been enabled to out-manœuvre the ravenous foe. But his gratulations are premature, for soon he experiences sharp pricking sensations all over his body; the heat of the protecting sheet is insufferable, the agony is intense; he kicks off the sheet, the mosquitoes settle on him, again he seizes his pillow, and, until he sinks exhausted, frantically swings it round his head in the hope of overwhelming some of his unseen assailants. Wearily he rises, lights his candle, examines his limbs, and discovers minute black spots, each one itching mortally, and which are only sand flies. He also examines his bed, and, behold! it is full of ants, and probably cockroaches, several of which unpleasant animals he discovers scudding away on all sides. The only defence available is to light a cigar and envelope himself in a cloud of smoke, and when the fumes of the tobacco has driven away the hostile forces, and the mysterious thumping has ceased, about twelve o’clock the unfortunate traveller, unable to keep his eyes open any longer, falls into an uneasy sleep, unconscious of the hungry flock fastening on his prostrate form. He reposes for a space of two hours, at the expiration of which time the thumping recommencing, he awakes, and as it continues until daylight, when it is mingled with a continual hooting, like that of an owl, and a species of unearthly chanting and the tropical emulative crowing of a thousand cocks, he remains awake. The traveller now looks out of his window, and discovers that the diabolical pounding arises from the court-yard, where he beholds most of the female inhabitants (having children fastened on behind after the gipsy fashion) standing over wooden mortars energetically pulverizing something with pestles six feet in length. These dames are engaged in the manufacture of “hous,” the only edible substance to be procured in this inhospitable region, and which demands in preparation such a vast deal of labour, that the women are employed day and night, relieving one another by turns, and resting only between twelve at night and two in the morning. Other noises proceed from the marabouts in the mosques, calling the faithful to prayers, and the dismal chanting from blind men, of which there is a remarkable number, who go from yard to yard singing prayers and receiving the alms on which they subsist.
Here is another variety of night’s lodging, preferable to the preceding, perhaps, but still one which cannot be for a moment compared with the comforts of a vulgar flock bed or even a straw palliasse. Mr. Bakie, the celebrated traveller and explorer, is this time the victim:—“I managed to start our kruboys with the baggage by half-past one, and then, as only one horse was brought, Mr. Guthrie, as the oldest of the party, was mounted, while Dr. Hutchinson and I agreed to walk on, in the hopes of others being brought after us. “When, however, we had got about a mile on our way, seeing no signs of the steeds, Dr. Hutchinson declared that he would return and inquire about them, while I resolved to proceed, telling him that he might overtake me. Having got to the bottom of the hill, and finding the road, as before, very wet, I pulled off my shoes and stockings and went barefooted, that being by far the easiest mode of progression along a path of this description. In this way I had walked alone for seven or eight miles, when I lost almost all trace of the path. Having ascertained by my compass the position of the river, I endeavoured to work my way in that direction, but soon got more entangled than ever. I climbed up several trees to look around, but could not discover a single guiding mark. I was completely in the bush, the grass and brushwood being so long, thick, and close, that every step I took was a severe exertion. It was now past sunset and getting rapidly dark, and as it was only too evident that I had lost my way without any chance of bettering myself, the next question came to be, how I should pass the night. The most comfortable and the safest spot seemed to be up a tree, so I tried one, and got as high as I could, but did not much relish my quarters. All the others near me were too small; but I recollected having observed some time before a tall baobab, which I determined again to search after. I took a good mark, so that, if unsuccessful in my cruise, I still might have something to fall back upon; and starting with a good run to clear the grass, was fortunate enough in a few minutes to get a glimpse of the wished-for harbour of refuge. Luckily for me it had a double trunk, with a distance between of about two feet, so, tying my shoes together and casting them over my shoulder, I placed my back against the one trunk and my feet against the other, and so managed to climb until I got hold of a branch, by which I swung myself further up, and finally got into a spot about twelve or fifteen feet from the ground. Here I placed myself on a branch about a foot in diameter, projecting at nearly right angles, and by leaning against the main trunk and stretching out my legs before me, I found I had a tolerably comfortable seat, whence I might peer into the surrounding obscure. The night, fortunately, was not very dark, the stars gleamed overhead, while vivid flashes of lightning over the neighbouring hills enabled me from time to time to cast a momentary glance around me. I got on my shoes and stockings as a protection against insects, then passed a piece of cord loosely round the branch, so that I could pass my arm through it and steady myself, and finally made preparations for repose by kicking two places in the bark of the tree for my heels to rest in. About eight o’clock I distinctly heard in the distance the hum of human voices, and shouted to try and attract attention, but to no avail; believing, however, that there were some huts near, I marked the direction by a large tree. Feeling rather tired, I lay down on my face along the branch, throwing my handkerchief over my head, and passing each of my hands into the opposite sleeve, to prevent them from being bitten, I was soon in a state of oblivion. I must have slept upwards of four hours, when I awoke rather stiff, from my constrained position, and had to try a change of attitude. To pass the time I lit a cigar, and as I had but one, I only smoked half of it, carefully putting back the remainder to serve for my breakfast. A dew was now falling, crickets and frogs innumerable were celebrating nocturnal orgies; huge mosquitoes, making a noise as loud as bees, were assaulting me on all sides, and some large birds were roosting in the tree over my head. I tried in vain to dose away the hours, but I had had my usual allowance of sleep, and not being a bigoted partizan of the drowsy god, now that I really required his aid, he refused to attend to my invocations. I watched with most painful interest the rising and setting of various constellations, and was at length delighted with the appearance of Venus, showing that morning was now not far off. A fresh novelty next presented itself, in the form of sundry denizens of the forest, crowding to pay homage to their visitor. Howls of various degrees of intensity continually reached my ears, some resembling more the high notes of the hyæna with occasional variations, and others, very close to me, being unquestionably in the deep bass of the leopard. I once fancied that I saw a figure moving not far from me, but could not be positive. As light began to suffuse itself over the eastern sky, my nocturnal companions gradually retired, until at last I was left alone, yet not solitary, for that I could not be as long as the incessant buzzing in my ears told me that my Lilliputian winged antagonists were yet unwearied in their attacks, and still unsatiated with blood. At length as gray dawn was being supplanted by brighter daylight, I ventured to descend from my roosting place, where I had spent, not altogether without comfort, upwards of eleven hours. My first endeavour was to find a footpath, and after a little search, I stumbled over a little track, which, however, as it led in a wrong direction, I had to abandon. A more prolonged investigation discovered another, very narrow, and almost hidden by long grass, which after the heavy rain, was lying right over it. To prevent my again straying, I was obliged to bend forward and walk, almost creep, along a kind of tunnel, pulling up a few stalks and letting them fall, as a guide in case I should have to return. Though in my elevated quarters the dew had been slight, on the ground it had been very heavy, and in a few minutes I was completely drenched. When I emerged at the other extremity of this path, which was about half-a-mile long, and was again enabled to look round, I saw a little curling smoke, towards which I immediately made and found a few huts. Some Aborigines appeared, and, after their surprise had subsided, I managed to explain by means of a few broken Hausa words, that I had lost my way, had spent the night in a tree, and now wished to get to Wuza. They pointed out the way to me, but as it was not very evident to my European senses, I induced one to come with me as a guide, and we accordingly trudged along through mud and water by a route, which, to any but a thorough-bred native, would have been impossible to keep to. After walking, or rather wading in this manner for two or three miles, we fell in with my black servant and a couple of men armed to the teeth, going in search of me. They could hardly believe me, especially when I told them how I had passed the night, for they had already consigned me to the jaws of the wild beasts which abound in this neighbourhood. I accordingly dismissed my guide, a happy man, with my pocket handkerchief, which was all I had to give him, and continued my walk to Wuza, at which I arrived about nine o’clock, after a morning’s jaunt of nine or ten miles. The natives who were three in number, were astonished at my appearance and my story, and were no less surprised when they saw me devouring, with great gusto, my breakfast, which the steward had very considerately provided for me, and which was the first food I had tasted for twenty hours.”
It may be worth while to enquire how that renowned sojourner among the most savage people on the face of the earth, Dr. Livingstone, spends one of his many thousand nights in barbarous company. The worthy doctor thus responds:
“As soon as we land some of the men cut a little grass for my bed, while my servant Mashauana plants the poles of the little tent. These are used by day for carrying burdens, for the Barotse fashion is exactly like that of the natives of India, only the burden is fastened near the ends of the pole, and not suspended by long cords. The bed is made and boxes ranged on each side of it, and then the tent is pitched over all. Four or five feet in front of my tent, is placed the principal or “kotla” fire, the wood for which must be collected by the man who occupies the post of herald, and takes as his perquisite the heads of all the oxen slaughtered and of all the game too. Each person knows the station he is to occupy, both in eating and sleeping, as long as the journey lasts. But Mashauana my head boatman makes his bed at the door of the tent as soon as I retire. The rest, divided into small companies according to their tribes, make sheds all round the fire, leaving a horse-shoe shaped space in front sufficient for the cattle to stand in. The fire gives confidence to the oxen, so the men are always careful to keep them in sight of it; the sheds are formed by planting two stout forked poles in an inclined direction, and placing another over these in a horizontal position. A number of branches are then stuck in the ground in the direction to which the poles are inclined, the twigs drawn down to the horizontal pole and tied with strips of bark. Long grass is then laid over the branches in sufficient quantity to draw off the rain, and we have sheds open to the fire in front but secure from beasts behind. In less than an hour we were usually all under cover. We never lacked abundance of grass during the whole journey. It is a picturesque sight at night when the clear bright moon of these climates glances on the sleeping forms around, to look out upon the attitudes of profound repose both men and beasts assume. There being no danger from wild animals in such a night the fires are allowed almost to go out, and as there is no fear of hungry dogs coming over sleepers and devouring the food, or quietly eating up the poor fellows’ blankets, which at best were but greasy skins, which sometimes happened in the villages, the picture was one of perfect peace.
“The cooking is usually done in the natives’ own style, and as they carefully wash the dishes, pots, and the hands before handling food, it is by no means despicable. Sometimes alterations are made at my suggestion, and they believe that they can cook in thorough white man’s fashion. The cook always comes in for something left in the pot, so all are eager to obtain the office.