About three o’clock in the afternoon, while we were proceeding on our voyage, the canoe, which had put off from the shore with the slaves to bring them on board, sunk in consequence of being leaky and overloaded. The poor women, embarrassed by the weight of the pagnes about their loins, were in the greatest danger: but prompt assistance was given and every one was got on board without any further accident. It is usual to anchor the boats close to the banks of the river, but when the canoe filled we were under way.
The river here makes an elbow towards the east of about six miles; it then stretches towards the north. It is every where broad and deep, but the banks are low and bare.
About seven in the evening we anchored opposite Mujo, a village of the Diriman country, containing from three hundred and fifty to four hundred inhabitants. The huts are of straw and in the sugar-loaf form. In the evening I was informed of the arrival of Sidi-Mbark,[2] the owner of our vessel. I immediately went to him and complained of the bad conduct of his people to me, but he paid little attention to my representations: he was along with a Moorish friend on board a small boat of six tons burthen. He had determined to get under way, immediately in order to reach Timbuctoo before us. I expressed a wish to go with him in his boat which moved rapidly, but he alleged that it was already too heavily laden, and that besides it was so small that there was not sleeping room for me. He once more consigned me to the care of the Mandingo, ordering him to supply me with provisions during the remainder of the voyage, and to treat me better than he had hitherto done. Sidi-Mbark afterwards tried to console me, advising me to have patience, and assuring me that we were not far from Cabra, which was the place of our destination.
The Moors of Adrar, whom I had seen in the country of Banan, stopped with us at the same spot. They sent Sidi-Mbark a plentiful supper, consisting of rice, and dried meat, seasoned with giraumons and the small onions of the country. He invited me to partake of the meal; and I accepted his invitation with pleasure, for it was late and I had not yet supped. The Moors shew great address in eating with the fingers; for my part, however, though I had long been accustomed to take my food by handfuls, I was still far from being as expert as they: I sometimes let part of the mess fall on the ground which gave them great offence, and made them vent their anger in maledictions on the Christians, who, they observed, had not even taught me how to eat decently. This was the first comfortable meal I had made since my departure from Jenné. Sidi-Mbark gave his men colat-nuts to purchase provisions. I returned on board our boat, where I soon learned how little regard was paid to the directions of the master when he was absent.
At sun-rise we stood towards the north, at the rate of two miles an hour, leaving Mbark asleep in his boat; he soon got up with us however, for he had six good rowers: he came alongside of our boat and put on board some merchandise, which had embarrassed him on account of the room it occupied. He then gave his final orders and left us, expressing his hope that every man would do his duty. The river takes a turn to the west, the banks continue low, but at this spot, the right bank was not entirely destitute of wood. At ten o’clock we came to a spot were it made an elbow towards the N. E. About half past ten we passed Co, a large village, in the environs of which we observed some tamarind-trees and ronniers: the left bank is formed by sand hills. There is a little island in the midst of the river opposite to Co; it is inhabited by five or six hundred Foulahs who have numerous flocks. At noon we found the course of the river turning towards the N. E. and we proceeded with it in that direction until half-past four, when it elbowed round to the north. At this hour we passed in front of Do. The river then stretched westward. It is still broad and deep enough for the boatmen to use their paddles in navigating. At half-past six we halted at Sa, a large village surrounded with a wall and shaded by some tamarind-trees, (tamarindus indicus). This was the only village with a wall which I had seen on the banks of the river since we left Isaca. Here we joined from thirty to forty large boats, all bound for Timbuctoo. Many of these vessels were of about eighty tons burthen. Sa is a rendezvous for the vessels which navigate in this direction. It is their practice to assemble at this port and to proceed on the voyage together, to guard against the depredations of a tribe in the neighbourhood of this town, who often board their boats and commit acts of violence and robbery. They are called by the natives Soorgoos, and by the Moors Tooariks. There were in the port of Sa from four to five hundred persons, seamen and inhabitants, who gazed at the flotilla. The port was covered with bales of merchandise, ready to be shipped on board the canoes. The commercial activity appeared astonishing. There was something in the appearance of the flotilla far more interesting than I could have expected to find in the interior of Africa. The bustle on every side almost made me fancy myself in a trading port of Europe. The largest vessels belong to Moors, who carry on the principal trade of the country: they form themselves into companies, and employ their canoes in conveying merchandise to Timbuctoo, where they are paid their freight in salt or cowries.
On the 5th of April, at sun-rise, we got under way and steered a northerly course until eleven o’clock, when we came to a bend in the river, which then flowed towards the N. E. On every side we heard the joyous cries of the sailors, who also fired muskets, still more strongly to express their gladness. We passed the village of Baraconga, which is situated on the left bank. About one o’clock we anchored before Tantala, a pretty village, where we bought some dry fish, milk, and fine mats made of ronnier leaves. They are of a long shape and yellow colour; they are used for sleeping on, and for making sacks.
We continued our course to the N. E. until sun-set, when we passed a large branch of the river, which runs westerly. About seven o’clock we brought to at Cooma, where we passed the night. The river and its banks still presented the same uniformity of aspect.
On the 6th of April, at five in the morning, we got under way, and stood towards the east. The course of the river was in that direction, but with a number of small sinuosities on the northern and southern sides. About three in the afternoon we passed Lelel, a large village, containing from five to six hundred inhabitants, and situated on the left bank. A little before it reaches this village the river elbows round to the north for a mile and a half, and then turns back to the east. At half past four in the evening we passed Garfola, a village without a wall, and very much resembling the former. I observed around it multitudes of Barbary ducks and other aquatic birds. The banks in the neighbourhood of this village are somewhat elevated. Some baobabs, bombaces, tamarinds, somps, mimosas, and naucleas, adorn the environs. The river may be here about half a mile broad. About seven o’clock we anchored at Doboo, where we passed the night.
On the 7th of April we waited to give time to the heavy boats, which we had left astern, to come up, and, about eight in the morning, stood towards the N. E. with a gentle breeze, favourable for that course. However, as it soon began to blow fresh, we anchored, about nine o’clock, at Filinsa, a village containing five hundred inhabitants. A great number of canoes were under repair in the port. I saw the carpenters at work: the only tool they used was a small hatchet, in the form of an adze, with which they shaped out, awkwardly enough, little pieces of plank, the greater part of which appeared to be in a state of decay. They were indeed fragments of old canoes which were thus used for repairs. When there was a hole in the side of a canoe, these carpenters clapped a bit of plank upon it, and fastened it, or, as it were, stitched it on with rope, made of the bark of trees. These patches are always very ill fitted, but the apertures which are left are stopped up with a mixture of bruised straw and clay. This compound is covered with a layer of fresh straw, which is fixed by a second stitching with bark-rope. I am astonished that boats thus constructed do not sink as soon as they are afloat. A man is kept constantly employed in baling them, to prevent their filling with the water which penetrates through the seams. These canoes belonged to fishermen. Young girls, half naked, came on board to us with milk and fresh butter.
The N. E. wind continued to blow till three o’clock, and it was five in the morning before we began to prepare for prosecuting our voyage. We had scarcely gone a mile when we observed that two large boats had fallen astern, and we thought it right to wait for them. We were then off Baracondié, a village opposite to which there is a large island, which is inundated when the water is high. All the villages from lake Debo belong to the Diriman country, which extends to a great distance easterly. A number of pastoral Foulahs also inhabit the banks of the river, and remove with their flocks when the inundations commence.