My host, whom I will call B., was much interested in my expedition into the interior. He told me frankly that I would have a devil of a time. He said that the jurisdiction of the Liberians extended inland for about ten miles only, and beyond that the country was in the hands of the original natives. These were all armed with guns and a few rifles, and were constantly at war with each other. This I found to be true.
As I was determined to penetrate and see for myself, he advised me to call on the Governor; also that I should take suitable presents to him. I resolved to do so. On my friend’s advice I bought a case of beer and a case of Kola wine, the Governor, it appeared, being very partial to these beverages mixed. He told me that if I pressed a golden sovereign into his hand I should get what I wanted, i.e., a permit to hunt elephant.
I had to engage servants, and B. said I could either buy them or hire them. He explained that slavery was rampant. Whenever a tribe in the interior brought off a successful raid on their neighbours the captives were generally brought to the coast and there sold to the Liberians, themselves liberated slaves from the United States of America. Alcoholism was so prevalent and widespread and had reached such a pitch that scarcely any children are born to the Liberians proper, in which case they buy bush children and adopt them as their own.
B. was going to a dance that night, and asked me if I would care to go with him. I was anxious to see what I could of the people and agreed to go. Later on I was surprised to see B. in full evening dress. He explained that everyone dressed. Now, as I had not brought mine, it was very awkward. But B. said it would be all right. As we were changing, a fine buxom black girl burst into our house and marched straight upstairs to B.’s room, throwing wide the door. There was B. with his white shirt and nothing else. I closed my door, but could hear the lady engaging B. for some of the dances. She then asked for the white man who had arrived that day, and then my door was thrown open. I was far from dressed myself, and something about my appearance seemed to tickle the lady immensely, for she went into peals of the jolliest laughter. She spoke English with a strong American accent, as nearly all the Liberians do. She made me promise to dance with her that night, in spite of my protests that I could not dance at all. She turned the place upside down and then departed. I hastened to ask B. what kind of dances they had, and he told me they liked waltzing best.
After dinner we sauntered off to a large barn, where a musical din denoted the dance. Here we found a fine lay-out. Lavish refreshments, chiefly composed of cakes, cold pork, gin and beer, were provided for all. Everybody was very jolly, and they could dance, or so it seemed to me. The girls were nearly all in white or pink dresses, but not very décolleté. A tall coal-black gentleman in full evening dress was master of ceremonies, but introductions soon became unnecessary. Round the refreshments gathered the old men, some in frock coats of a very ancient cut, others in more modern garments. I was hospitably pressed to drink. The musicians drank without pressing. Everybody drank, women and all. What added zest was the fact that the fines inflicted on the steamer captain and his officer paid for the feast. German export beer and Hamburg potato spirit were then only a few pence per bottle, consequently the dance became a debauch, seasoned drinkers though they were. The din and heat became terrific. Starched collars turned to sodden rags and things indescribable happened. Thus ended my first day in the Black Republic.
As notice had been sent the Governor of my intended visit, and I had bought the necessary beer and Kola wine, next day I set off to visit him at his residence, some little way out of town. Bush, with clearings planted with coffee, describes the country between the town and the Governor’s residence, itself situated in a large coffee plantation. The house was of lumber construction and two storeys high, well built, and the largest I had yet seen. I marched up, followed by B’s two boys carrying the present, to the front door. I was met immediately by a splendid-looking old black, very tall, very black, dressed in a long black frock coat, high starched collar and black cravat. With snow-white hair and Uncle Sam beard and accent to match, he received me in a really kind and hearty manner. I must confess that I felt rather diffident with my two cases of cheap liquor in the background, while I fingered a few hot sovereigns in my pocket. However, the bluff old fellow soon put me at my ease. Seeing the stuff out there on the boys’ heads, he beckoned them in, helped them to lower their load, shouted to someone to come and open the boxes, sent the boys in to get a drink, and ushered me into his sitting-room, all in the jolliest manner possible. Here we talked a bit, and then I told him what I had come for. A permit to hunt elephant! Ha! ha! ha! he roared. Of course I should have a permit to hunt elephant. He wrote it there and then. Would I stop for dinner? I said I would be delighted. Then we had beer and Kola wine mixed until lunch was announced. Then the old boy took off his coat and invited me to do likewise. I did so and followed my host into the eating-room. Here was a long trestle table laid for about twenty people—white tablecloth, knives, forks, etc. As we seated ourselves, in trooped enchanting little black girls, all dressed neatly in moderately clean print dresses, with arms, necks, and legs bare. And then Mrs. Governor appeared with some larger girls. After shaking hands we all sat down to a very substantial meal. It was perfectly charming. Everyone was at ease. The old man was an excellent host and the old lady just as good a hostess. Conversation never flagged. The old man was full of his brother’s doings. It appeared that his brother was a lazy, good-for-nothing fellow, who would let his cows stray on to his neighbours’ plantations. My host had repeatedly remonstrated, but without effect. So that morning, having discovered some of his brother’s cows meandering about the plantation, he had gone straight for his shot-gun and had rendered at least one incapable of further depredations. This act had, it appeared, stirred the brother profoundly, but in an unusual way, for he could be heard for miles bawling religious songs from his bedroom window. Whenever there was a lull during lunch we heard the monotonous chant, which appeared to amuse my host immensely.
All the little girls were called their children, but I subsequently found that the old couple were quite childless, and that these were bush children from the interior and were now adopted.
My host told me that he had been a slave in the Southern States; he said he could remember well being flogged. He said that elephant were numerous in the interior, also bush-cow (the little red buffalo), leopard, and the pigmy hippo. As regards the tribes, he laughed and said that they were a rough lot. He said that Liberia was almost continually at war with them. In this connection I heard afterwards that the bush men had been down on a raid to a neighbouring town. They had seized, stripped, and tarred and feathered the Governor, raided and carried off all the liquor in the trading stores, and enjoyed themselves generally.
Altogether, Liberia was, at the time of which I write, about the funniest show it has ever been my lot to see. When they set up their Customs to levy import duty on spirits, etc., they soon discovered that an extensive and very lucrative trade in smuggling started up. Steamers used to draw in close to the coast and sell for spot cash and gold dust whole cargoes of gin, gunpowder, caps, and articles of general trade. Natives would put off in their canoes in clouds, and in a very short time the cargo would be sold on deck and landed. In order to stop this the Republic bought a second-hand steam yacht which had originally belonged to King Leopold, I believe. For the following account of the doings of this navy I am indebted to B.; for its accuracy I cannot vouch.
According to B., then, the yacht was armed with a light gun and some machine guns. The crew were all blacks, with the exception of the captain, who was an Englishman. This Englishman was admiral of the fleet, captain and commander all in one. Evidently his gunners were so bad that he found it necessary to fire the gun himself whenever it had to be fired. As his salary was never forthcoming when due, he used to take it out of the fines he imposed on ships caught in the act. That he was energetic is shown by his first encounter with a smuggling ship. This happened to be a German, well inside the three-mile limit. The Liberian navy signalled her to stop. She disregarded this and carried on. The admiral jumped to his gun and let fly a shot across her bows. She still carried on. So then the admiral let rip and carried away a part of her bridge with the first shot. One can imagine the guttural curses and funk on that German bridge. Nothing more was needed, she hove to. The game ceased to be so popular after this encounter. Smuggling by the shipload was stopped. Passing through the French West African port, Dakkar, some time after my visit to Liberia, I saw the Liberian navy—a beautiful little craft—lying at anchor. In answer to my enquiries I was told that she had been in dock for repairs, that the bill for these amounted to some £600, that the Republican Treasury had been unable to meet it, and that the repairers refused to let her sail until it was met. How long she remained there I cannot say.