The rest which John Lander had obtained during the night, appeared to have revived him, and he seemed in better spirits, with an abatement of his fever. They accordingly proceeded on their journey, and after bathing, crossed the Oly in a canoe, which they found tied to a tree. During the whole of the day, they travelled under a burning sun, and in the evening pitched their tent near a small stream. John Lander was very ill, his fever having returned with increased violence. A storm gathered over their heads a few minutes after the tent had been fixed, and presently burst with increased violence. While it lasted, they were occupied with the thoughts of their forlorn condition. The deafening noise of the thunder, as it echoed among the hills, the overpowering glare of the lightning, the torrents of rain, and the violence of the wind were truly awful. The whole of their party were collected in the tent for shelter from the storm, and in spite of the water which ran through it, contrived to sleep till morning.
They were obliged to lie the whole of the night in their wet clothes, the effects of which were visible in John Lander in the morning. His brother endeavoured, in vain, to rally him, but he was scarcely able to stand. The tent was packed up in its wet state, and the carriers hastened onwards as fast as they could, for the provisions were consumed, and they were anxious to get to their journey's end without delay. As they advanced, John Lander became worse, till at length, he was completely overcome, and to prevent falling off his horse, he dismounted and was laid down. There was not a tree near them, which could shelter them from the sun, so with the assistance of his people, Richard obtained a few branches, and formed a sort of bower, their horses' pads answering the purpose of a bed. During the remainder of the day, John became worse, and the medicine chest had been sent with the other things. In this dilemma, with no food at hand, the condition of the travellers was most deplorable. Richard with the view of obtaining some refreshment for his brother, went into the wood and shot the only bird he saw, which was not much bigger than the sparrow. With this, he returned, made a fire, and prepared a little soup in a half-pint cup, which for want of salt, was rather unsavoury, nevertheless it was of service to his brother; the flesh of the bird, Richard divided between himself and his man, both of them being weak for want of food. They now contrived to make a more substantial habitation for the invalid, of some stout branches of trees, and thatched it with long grass; they also lighted large fires round it to keep off the wild beasts, but sleep was out of the question, for they were attacked by myriads of mosquitoes, and buzzing flies, attracted by the glare of the fires. A prowling tiger was the only savage animal that approached near enough to be seen during the night.
On the following morning, a considerable improvement having taken place in John Lander's health, they set forward in good spirits, and shortly after sunset arrived in the vicinity of Coobly, without experiencing so much fatigue as had been anticipated. Having waited on the governor, as a matter of courtesy, they were detained but a few moments, and then repaired to the hut assigned to them, where John was soon after seized with the return of the fever, more severe than the former. The governor sent them a bowl of rice, one of milk, two calabashes of butter, and a fine fat bullock.
The situation of Richard Lander was now distressing in the extreme, his brother became hourly worse, and every moment was expected to be his last. During the few intervals he had from delirium, he seemed to be aware of his danger, and entered into arrangements respecting his family concerns. At this moment Richard's feelings were of too painful a nature to be described. The unhappy fate of his late master, Clapperton, came forcibly to his mind. He had followed him into the country, where he perished; he had attended him in his parting moments; he had performed for him the last mournful office which our nature requires, and the thought that he should have to go through the same sad ceremony for his brother, overwhelmed him with grief.
Two messengers now arrived from Boossa with a quantity of onions as a present from the queen. They were commanded by the king to await their departure from Coobly, and escort them to the city of Boossa, which was said to be about two days journey from Coobly.
The illness of John Lander, to the great joy of his brother, now took a favourable turn, and he became more tranquil and freer from pain, and preparations were now made for their departure from Coobly. For some hours before their departure, Richard was greatly annoyed by an old woman, who applied to him for medicine that would produce her an entire new set of teeth, or, she, "if I can only be supplied with two large and strong ones, I shall be satisfied with them." The woman at last became rather impertinent, when Richard recommended her two iron ones from the blacksmith, which so much displeased her, that she went away in a pet. The governor supplied them every day with abundance of rice and milk, in fact, nothing could surpass his benevolence and general good humour.
They quitted Coobly on the 15th June, and on the following morning entered a snug pretty little town called Zalee, lying in a rich and romantic valley, formed by a gap in a triple range of elevated hills, which ran from east to west. The governor sent them a goat, a fowl, a calabash of rice, and a quantity of corn for the horses. Zalee contained about a thousand inhabitants.
Their course from Zalee was in a south-easterly direction, and shortly after leaving the town, they came to a fine extensive plain, on which stood a few venerable and magnificent trees. Numerous herds of antelopes were feeding, which on hearing the report of their guns, bounded over the plain in all directions. From this place they beheld the city of Boossa, which lay directly before them at the distance of two or three miles, and appeared to be formed of straggling clusters of huts. To their great astonishment, however, on a nearer approach, Boossa was found to be standing on the main land, and not on an island in the Niger, as described by Captain Clapperton. Nothing could be discovered, which could warrant the assertion as laid down by that traveller. At ten o'clock they entered the city by the western gateway, and discharged their pieces as the signal of their arrival.
After waiting a few minutes, they were introduced to the king, whom they found in an interior apartment of his residence, in company with the Midilie, the title bestowed on his principal wife or queen. They welcomed the travellers to Boossa, with every appearance of cordiality. They told them very gravely, and with rueful countenances, that they had both been weeping in the morning for the death of Captain Clapperton, whose untimely end they would never cease to lament. It is true, they might have been so engaged, but as on their entrance, no outward signs of tears appeared, they rather mistrusted the information which had been imparted to them.
On the day subsequently to their arrival, they were visited by the noted widow Zuma, who presented herself to them without the slightest pretensions to finery of any kind, either in her dress or ornaments, for she was clad in very humble apparel of country cloth. She related to them with great good humour, her quarrels with her prince, the ruler of Wowow, and her consequent flight from that city to escape his resentment. It appeared that in order to effect this, she was actually obliged to climb over the city wall in the night, and travel on foot to Boossa, which was a very long journey, and to a woman of her size, must have been an arduous task. She alleged that she had done nothing whatever to merit the displeasure of the Wowow chief, notwithstanding which, he had robbed her of all her household furniture and a number of her slaves. But from another quarter, they learnt that one of her sons had committed a theft in the city, for which he would have suffered death, if he had not made his escape with his mother, who, it was said, had instigated him to the deed. The widow complained sadly of poverty and the hardness of the times; she had fought with the Youribeans against Alorie, but instead of receiving a recompense for her bravery; she had lost half of her slaves in an engagement, which so disgusted her with the military profession, that she immediately abandoned it and returned home. Yet in spite of all her losses and misfortunes, she had gained so much in corpulency, that it was with the utmost difficulty she could squeeze herself into the doorway of their hut, although it was by no means small. The widow Zuma was a very good-looking person of matronly appearance, and her skin of a light copper colour.