This night, in Park’s own words, was “the beginning of sorrows.... Now that the rain had set in, I trembled to think that we were only half way through our journey. The rain had not commenced three minutes before many of the soldiers were affected with vomiting, others fell asleep, and seemed as if half intoxicated. I felt a strong inclination to sleep during the storm, and as soon as it was over I fell asleep on the wet ground, although I used every exertion to keep myself awake. The soldiers likewise fell asleep on the wet bundles.”
The immediate result of that night was the addition of twelve men to the sick list. Next day all the horses and spare donkeys were requisitioned to carry such as were unable to walk. The road proved to be a difficult one along the base of the Konkadu mountains, whose precipices overhung the line of march in threatening masses.
Barely had camp been reached when once more a tornado burst in all its fury, but thanks to the proximity of a village, with less disastrous results than on the previous evening.
The storm past, Park proceeded to examine some gold diggings; after which, accompanied by Scott, he set off to the top of the Konkadu hills, finding them cultivated to the highest elevations. There also he found villages romantically situated in delightful glens, with water and grass in abundance throughout the year; and there, “while the thunder rolls in awful grandeur over their heads, they can look from their tremendous precipices over all that wild and woody plain which extends from the Falemé to the Bafing or Black River.”
To struggle forward handicapped with incapable men and driverless donkeys was now hard work. Half the caravan were sick, or too weak to exert themselves with effect. The result was never-ending confusion and delay. Unable to hold together, men and donkeys alike went astray, keeping Park, who could not be in a dozen places at once, in a state of continual watchfulness and motion, doing his best to bring up the incapables, and “coaxing” them to further exertions each time they insisted on lying down, indifferent alike to robbers, lions, or the fevers of night.
In spite of his iron constitution and sanguine heroic spirit Park himself was not altogether invulnerable, and he too became fevered at times—only, however, to show himself superior to suffering by virtue of his marvellous will and the exigencies of his situation. Conscious that the whole fate of the expedition depended upon his keeping well, he dared not give way. He was a second self to every one—without him all were absolutely helpless.
On leaving Fankia on the 15th of June, most of the men were ill, some of them even delirious. In this condition the caravan had to commence the ascent of the Tambaura mountains. The road was excessively steep—the donkeys terribly overloaded under their double burden of sick men and goods. Owing to the nature of the ground, each animal would have required at least one separate driver to guide and assist, but in the present case this was impossible. The result was a scene of dreadful confusion and disaster. Loaded donkeys were constantly tumbling over the rocks or falling exhausted on the pathway, while sick men, indifferent to their fate, threw themselves down, declaring they could go no further. The natives, discovering the predicament of the caravan, crept down among the rocks and stole what they could when a favourable opportunity offered.
At length, by means of superhuman exertions, Park succeeded in bringing all safely out of the perilous pass to a village, where he had the inexpressible pleasure of meeting the Mohammedan schoolmaster who had been so kind to him at Kamalia, and while travelling with Karfa. As an earnest of his gratitude for past favours, Park gave him a handsome present of cloth, beads, and amber, with which the good old man was delighted. The God-fearing Scotchman did not neglect to add an Arabic New Testament to his other gifts.
The history of the expedition was now one of growing trouble, sickness, and disorganisation. Tornadoes were almost of daily occurrence, and the country and the streams became more and more difficult to traverse.
Up to the 17th of June two men had died, and on that date two more were left behind at the point of death. The three days following Park himself was sick, as were now more than half his men, though still they struggled on. To add to the dangers of their situation, they were utterly unable to keep proper watch over their goods either by day or night—a fact the natives speedily learned, and constantly dogged their footsteps, intent on plunder.