We had nothing to complain of the engineer, Mr. William George, a Sá Leonite, and of the helmsman, Kwámina Ekum, a Gold Coast man. Both did their best with the heavily laden trio of boats. Cameron established himself—compass, log, lead, and dredge—in the steamer stern. His admirable geographical labours in 'Crossing Africa' are, after a few years of a swift-moving age, lapsing Lethe-wards; and
To have done is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty nail
In monumental mockery.
Now he has another opportunity of doing valuable service, none of these positions having been established by observations, and of showing travellers how topography should be worked. He has before him for correction the Hydrographic chart, which pretends to nothing within the Coast, and the 'River Ankobra and Tarquah(!) Gold Mines,' printed in 1878 by Captain Louis Wyatt, then District-commissioner for Axim. This first attempt at a regular survey is meritorious for an amateur; but of course it cannot compare with the produce of a scientific and experienced naval surveyor. We had Lieut. Jeekel, before alluded to, but his scale, 1:250,000, is too small for details. I did not see, till long after our return from this excursion, the then unfinished map by M. Paulus Dahse, a veteran West-Coaster, who has spent years in travelling through the interior. My fellow-voyager also was the first to show me the various cartes printed and published by the late M. Bonnat. [Footnote: Carte des Concessions de 'The African Gold Coast Company,' par M. J. Bonnat. Paris, August 1879. Beginning south at Tumento, it does not show the southern fork of the Bonsá or Abonsá River, which falls into the Ancobra's left bank; and it ends a little north of Asseman, the cemetery of the 'kings.' M. Bonnat had already printed in 1877 a Chart of the River Ankobra, extending north as far as the 'Gold Mines of Aodoua.']
The Ancobra is an enlarged copy of the Yenna or Prince's River. There are the same swampy borders and 'impenetrable forests,' as Captain Wyatt entitles them; while the mangrove never quite disappears from this true lagoon-stream. The monotonous fringe of rhizophores is broken, about two miles from the mouth, by bamboo-palms and hibiscus-beds, then by the bombax, the rubber-vine, the locust-tree (inga), and the banana-plantation. The mounds and hillocks on either side, beginning with the Akromasi and Kabudwe mounds, near the mouth, are evidently parts of an ancient archipelago built by the mangrove and silted up to mainland. The long and curious reaches are shown in my companion's map, and I shall notice only those details which claim something of general interest.
After about eight miles' steaming up a huge loop to the west, and a bend easterly, we passed the Kwábina Bosom, or Fetish-Rocks, two wall-like blocks, one mangrove-grown and the other comparatively bare. Contrary to native usage, we chose the fair way between the latter and the left bank, for which innovation, said our escort, we shall surely suffer.
Beyond the Fetish-Rocks the right bank shows a cleared mound ready for immediate planting: this concession once belonged to Dr. Ross, of Axim. Opposite it the mining-ground has been leased for prospecting by Messieurs Gillett and Selby. The notable feature of the river is now the prawn-basket, a long cone closed at the blunt apex: the Ancobra is a 'Camarones,' supplying a first-rate article for curries. This is the work of the uninteresting little villages, scatters of mere crates built in holes worn in the bush; all disappear during the floods, and are rebuilt in the dry season for growing rice and tapping palm-trees. Besides a few humans they contain nothing save lean dogs and etiolated poultry; cattle, sheep, and even pigs are wholly unknown.
In the afternoon we pushed through a wild thunderstorm of furious tropical rain, which pitted the river-face like musket-balls. It arose in the south; but throughout the Ancobra valley wet weather apparently comes from all directions. Chief Apó gravely ascribed it to our taking the wrong side of the Fetish-Rocks. I have heard, even in civilised lands, sillier post-hoc-ergò-propter-hocs.
There were two landing-places for the large Ingotro concession, both on the right bank. The lower leads, they say, over dry land, but the way is long and hilly. That up stream is peculiarly foul, and to us it was made fouler by the pelting shower. At low water, in the dry season, the little Nánwá creek, subtending the higher ground on the north, becomes too shallow for the smallest dug-out; and we had to wade or to be carried over an expanse of fetid and poisonous mangrove-mud festering in the sun, and promising a luxuriant growth of ague and fever. The first rise of sandy yellow loam showed the normal Gold Coast metalling of iron-stone and quartz-gravel, thinly spread with water-rounded pebbles. Then the path, very badly laid out, merged into a second foul morass, whose depths were crossed by the rudest of bridges, single and double trunks of felled or fallen trees. Nothing easier than to corduroy this mauvais pas.
A second rise showed a fine reef of white and blue quartz, which runs right through the settlement to the banks of the Nánwá stream. A quarter of an hour's walk from the landing-place placed us in the Nánwá village, now popularly known as Walker-Kru. It consists of a few mean little hovels, the usual cage-work, huddled together in most unpicturesque confusion. Prick-eared curs, ducks, and fowls compose the bestial habitants, to which must be added the regiments of rats (and ne'er a cat) which infest all these places. There were no mosquitoes, but the sand-fly bit viciously on mornings and evenings between the dark and sunlit hours, confining one to the dim cage and putting a veto upon the pleasant lounge or seat in the cool open. We found lodgings in the guest-hut of the headman, Kwáko Juma, like most of his brethren, a civil man and a greedy. But the Krumen, boatmen and carriers, were also lodged in the little settlement, and these people always make night hideous with their songs and squabbles, their howling voices, and hyæna-like bursts of laughter. It is very difficult to 'love one's neighbour as oneself' when he appears in this form under these circumstances.
By times next morning we woke too soon the villagers, who enjoy long talks by night and deep slumbers in early day. They appear much inclined to slumber again. But both Apó of Asánta and Juma of Nánwá were exceedingly anxious to know when mining-works would begin, and, that failing, to secure as much 'dash' as possible.