 Chapter 9 From Essoon to Agonjo, of Travels in West Africa. In which the Voyager sets forth the beauties of the way from Essoon to Indorko, and gives some account of the local swamps. Our next halting place was Essoon, which received us with a usual rail, but kindly enough, and endeared itself to me by knowing the Remboe, and not just waving the arm in the air in any direction, and saying, Far, far plenty bad people live for that side, as the other towns had done. Of course they stuck to the bad people part of the legend, but I was getting quite callous as to the moral character of new acquaintances, feeling sure that for good solid murderous riskality, several of my old fan acquaintances, and even my own party, would take a lot of beating, and yet, one and all, they had behaved well to me. Essoon gave me to understand that of all the Sodoms and Gomorrahs, that town of Hegaja was an easy first, and it would hardly believe we had come that way. Still, Hegaja had dealt with us well. However, I took less interest, except of course as a friend, in some details regarding the criminal career of Chief Blue Hat of Hegaja, in the opinion of Essoon, regarding the country we had survived, than in the information it had to impart regarding the country we had got to survive on our way to the big river, which now no longer meant the Ogoe, but the Remboe. I meant to reach one of Hatton and Cookson's sub-factories there, but, strictly between ourselves, I knew no more at what town that factory was than a kindergarten-board school-child does. I did not mention this fact, and a casual observer might have thought that I had spent my youth in that factory, when I directed my inquiries to the finding at the very shortest route to it. Essoon shook its head. Yes, it was close, but it was impossible to reach Oguma's factory. Why? There was blood-war in the path. I said it was no war of mine. But Essoon said, such was the appalling depravity of the next town on the road, that its inhabitants lay in wait at day, with loaded guns, and shot on sight any one coming up the Essoon road, and that at night they tied strings with bells on across the road and shot on hearing them. No one had been killed since the first party of Essoonians were fired on at long range, because no one had gone that way. But the next door town had been heard by people who had been out in the bush at night, blazing down the road when the bells were tinkled by wild animals. Clearly that road was not yet really healthy. The Duke, who, as I have said before, was a fine courageous fellow, ready to engage in any undertaking, suggested I should go up the road, alone, by myself, first, a mile ahead of the party, and the next town perhaps might not shoot at sight if they happened to notice I was something queer, and I might explain things, and then the rest of the party would follow. There's nothing like dash and courage, my dear Duke, I said, even if one display it by deputy, so this plan does you great credit, but as my knowledge of this charming language of yours is but small, I fear I might create a wrong impression in that town, and it might think I had kindly brought them a present of eight edible heathens, you and the remainder of my followers you understand. My men saw this was a real danger, and this was the only way I saw of excusing myself. It is at such a moment as this, that the giant's robe gets, so to speak, between your legs and threatens to trip you up. Going up a forbidden road and exposing yourself as a pot-shot to ambushed natives would be jam and fritters to Mr. Mattagart, for example, but I am not up to that form yet. So I determined to leave that road severely alone, and circumnavigate the next town by a road that leaves Esun, going west-northwest, which struck the Remboy, by Indorco, I was told, and then follow up the bank of the river until I picked up the sub-factory. Subsequent experience did not make one feel inclined to take out a patent for this plan, but at the time, in Esun, it looked nice enough. Some few of the more highly-cultured inhabitants here could speak trade English a little, and had been to the Remboy, and were quite intelligent about the whole affair. They had seen white men. A village they formerly occupied near the Remboy had been burnt by them, on account of a something that had occurred to a Catholic priest who visited it. They were, of course, none of them personally mixed up in this sad affair, so could give no details of what had befallen the priest. They knew also the Mouvet, which was a great bond of union between us. Was I a wife of them Mouvet white men, they inquired, or them other white men? I civilly said them Mouvet men were my tribe, and they ought to have known it by the look of me. They discussed my points of resemblance to the Mouvet white men, and I am ashamed to say I could not forebear from smiling, as I distinctly recognized my friends from the very racy description of their personal appearance and tricks of manner given by a lively Esunian bell who had certainly met them. So content and happy did I become under these soothing influences, that I actually took off my boots, a thing I had quite got out of the habit of doing and had them dried. I wanted to have them rubbed with palm oil, but I found to my surprise that there was no palm oil to be had, the tree being absent or scarce in this region, so I had to content myself with having them rubbed with a piece of animal fat instead. I chaperoned my men, while among the ladies of Esun a forward set of mixes with a vigilance of a dragon, and decreed, like the Mikado of Japan, that whosoever leered or winked unless connubially linked should forewith be beheaded, have their pay chopped, I mean, as they were beginning to smell their pay. They were careful, and we got through Esun without one of them going into jail, no mean performance when you remember that every man had a past, to put it mildly. Esun is not situated like the other towns, with a swamp and the forest close round it, but it is built on the side of a fairly cleared ravine among its plantain groves. When you are on the southern side of the ravine, you can see Esun looking as if it were hung on the hillside before you. You then go through a plantation down into the little river and up into the town, one long, broad, clean-capped street. Leaving Esun, you go on up the hill through another plantation to the summit. Immediately after leaving the town, we struck westwards, and when we got to the top of the next hill, we had a view that showed us we were dealing with another type of country. The hills to the westward are lower, and the valleys between them broader and less heavily forested, or rather, I should say, forested with smaller sorts of timber. All our paths took us during the early part of the day up and down hills, through swamps and little rivers, all flowing Remboi wards. About the middle of the afternoon, when we had got up to the top of a high hill, after having had a terrible time on a timber fall of the first magnitude into which four of us had fallen, I, of course, for one, I saw a sight that made my heart stand still. Going away to the west and north, winding in and out among the feet of the now-isolated mound-like mountains, was that never to be mistaken black-green forest swamp of mangrove, doubtless the fringe of the river Remboi, which evidently comes much further inland than the mangrove belt on the Ogoi. This is reasonable, and as it should be, though it surprised me at the time, for the great arm of the sea, which is called the Gabun, is really a fjord, just like Bonnie and Opobo rivers, with several rivers falling into it at its head, and this fjord brings the seawater further inland. In addition to this the two rivers, the Komo-Nkama and Remboi that fall into this Gabun, with several smaller rivers, both bring down an inferior quantity of fresh water, and that at nothing like the tearing, tide-beating back-pace of the Ogoi. As my brother would say, it's perfectly simple if you think about it, but thinking is not my strong point. Anyhow I was glad to see the mangrove belt, all the glatter because I did not then know how far it was inland from the sea, and also because I was full enough to think that a long line I could see running east and west to the north of where I stood was the line of the Remboi river, which it was not as we soon found out. Cheered by this pleasing prospect we marched on forgetful of our scratches down the side of the hill and down the foot slope of it until we struck the edge of the swamp. We skirted this for some mile or so going northeast, then we struck into the swamp to reach what we had regarded as the Remboi river. We found ourselves at the edge of that open line we had seen from the mountain, not standing because you don't so much as try to stand on mangrove routes unless you are a born fool, and then you don't stand long but clinging, like so many monkeys, to the net of aerial routes which surrounded us, looking blankly at a lake of ink-black slime. It was half a mile across and some miles long. We could not see either the west or east termination of it, for it lay like a rotten serpent twisted among the mangroves. It never entered into our heads to try to cross it, for when a swamp is too deep for mangroves to grow in it, no bottom lip for them damting, as a crew-boy once said to me, and it a small specimen of this sort of ornament to a landscape. But we just looked round to see which direction we had better take. Then I observed that the routes, aerial and otherwise, were coated in mud and had no leaves on them, for a foot above our heads. Next I noticed that the surface of the mud before us had a sort of quiver running through it and here and there it exhibited swellings on its surface which rose in one place and fell in another. No need for an old coaster like me to look at that sort of thing twice to know what it meant, and feeling it was a situation more suited to Mr. Stanley than myself, I attempted to emulate his methods and addressed my men. Boys, said I, this beastly hole is tidal and the tide is coming in. As it took us two hours to get to this sainted swamp, it's time we started out one time and the nearest way. It is to be hoped the practice we have acquired in mangrove routes in coming will enable us to get up sufficient pace to get out onto dry land before we are all drowned. The boys took the hint. Fortunately one of the ajambas had been down in Agoe. It was gray shirt who sabbied them tide however. The rest of them and the fans did not know what tide meant, but gray shirt hustled them along and I followed deeply regretting that my ancestors had parted prematurely with prehensile tails for four limbs, particularly when two of them are done up in boots and are not sufficient to enable one to get through a mangrove swamp network of slimy roots rising out of the water and swinging lines of aerial ones coming down to the water, a la mangrove, with anything approaching safety. Added to these joys were any quantity of mangrove flies, a broiling hot sun, and an atmosphere three quarters solid stench from the putrefying ooze all around us. For an hour and a half thought I, why did I come to Africa? Or why, having come, did I not know when I was well off and stay in glass? Before these problems were settled in my mind we were close to the true land again, with the water under us licking lazily among the roots and over our feet. We did not make any fuss about it, but we meant to stick to dry land for some time, and so now took to the side of a hill that seemed like a great bubble coming out of the swamp and bore steadily east until we found a path. This path, according to the nature of paths in this country, promptly took us into another swamp but of a different kind to our last, a knee-tip of fair, full of beautiful palms and strange water plants, the names were of I know not. There was just one part where that abomination, pandanus, had to be got through, but as swamps go it was not at all bad. I ought to mention that there were leeches in it, lest I may be thought too enthusiastic over its charms. But the great point was that the mountains we got to on the other side of it were a good solid ridge running it is true east and west, while we wanted to go north. Still on we went, waiting for developments, and watching the great line of mangrove swamp spreading along below us to the left hand, seeing many of the lines in its dark face, which betokened more of those awesome slime lagoons that we had seen enough of at close quarters. About four o'clock we struck some more plantations, and passing through these came to a path running northeast down which we went. I must say the forest scenery here was superbly lovely. Along this mountain-side cliff to the mangrove swamp the sun could reach the soil, owing to the steepness and abruptness and the changes of curves of the ground. While the soft steamy air which came up off the swamp swathed everything, and although unpleasantly strong in smell to us, was yet evidently highly agreeable to the vegetation. Lovely wine palms and rafia palms, looking as if they had been grown under glass, so deliciously green and profuse was their feather-like foliage intermingled with giant redwoods and lovely dark glossy green lianes blooming in wreaths and fastoons of white and mauve flowers, which gave a glorious wealth of beauty and color to the scene. Even the monotony of the mangrove belt alongside gave an additional charm to it, like the frame round picture. As we passed on the ridge turned north and the mangrove line narrowed between the hills. Our path now ran east and more in the middle of the forest, and the cool shade was charming after the heat we had had earlier in the day. We crossed a lovely little stream coming down the hillside in a cascade, and then our path plunged into a beautiful valley. We had glimpses through the trees of an amphitheater of blue mist veiled mountains coming down in a crescent before us and on all sides saved due west where the mangrove swamp came in. Never shall I forget the exceeding beauty of that valley, the foliage of the trees round us, the delicate wreaths and fastoons of climbing plants, the graceful delicate plumes of the palm trees interlacing among each other and showing through all a background of soft pale purple blue mountains and forest not really far away, as the practiced I knew, but only made to look so by the mist, which has this trick of giving suggestion of immense space without destroying the beauty of detail. Those African misty forests have the same marvelous distinctive quality that Turner gives one in his greatest pictures. I am no artist, so I do not know exactly what it is, but I see it is there. I luxuriated in the exquisite beauty of that valley, little thinking or knowing what there was in it besides beauty, as Allah in mercy hid the book of fate. On we went among the ferns and flowers until we met a swamp, a different kind of swamp to those we had heretofore met, save the little one last mentioned. This one was much larger and a gem of beauty, but we had to cross it. It was completely furnished with characteristic flora. Fortunately when we got to its edge we saw a woman crossing before us, but unfortunately she did not take a fancy to our appearance, and instead of staying and having a chat about the state of the roads and the shortest way to Indorko, she bolted away across the swamp. I noticed she carefully took a course, not the shortest, although that course immersed her, to her armpits. In we went after her, and when things were getting unpleasantly deep, and feeling highly uncertain underfoot, we found there was a great log of a tree under the water which, as we had seen the ladies' care at this point, we deemed it advisable to walk on. All of us save one, need I say that one was myself, affected this with safety. As for me, when I was at the beginning of the submerged bridge, and busily laying about in my mind for a definite opinion as to whether it was better to walk on a slippery tree-trunk bridge you could see, or on one you could not, I was hurled off by that inexorable fate that demands of me a personal acquaintance with fluvial and paludial ground deposits, whereupon I took a header, and thereby able to inform the world that there is between fifteen and twenty feet of water each side of that log. I conscientiously went in on one side and came up on the other. The log, I conjecture, is odum or ebony, and it is some fifty feet long, anyhow it is some sort of wood that won't float. Gray shirt says it is a bridge across an underswamp river. Having survived this and reached the opposite bank, we shortly fell in with a party of men and women who were taking, they said, a parcel of rubber to holtees. They told us Indorko was quite close, and that the plantations we saw before us were its outermost ones, but spoke of a swamp, a bad swamp. We knew it, we said, in the foolishness of our hearts, thinking they meant the one we had just forwarded, and leaving them resting, passed on our way, half a mile further on we were wiser and sadder, for then we stood on the rim of one of the biggest swamps I have ever seen south of the rivers. It stretched away in all directions, a great sheet of filthy water, out of which sprang gorgeous marsh plants, in islands, great banks of screw pine and coppices of wine palm, with their lovely fronds reflected back by the still mirror-like water, so that the reflection was as vivid as the reality, and, above all, remarkable was a plant, new and strange to me, whose pale green stem came up out of the water, and then spread out in a flattened surface, thin and in a peculiarly graceful curve. This flattened surface had, growing out from its leaves, the size, shape, and color of lily, of the valley leaves. Until I saw this thing I had held the wine palm to be the queen of grace in the vegetable kingdom, but this new beauty quite surpassed her. Our path went straight into this swamp over the black rocks forming its rim, in an imperative no alternative, come along this way, style. Singlet, who was leading, carrying a good load of bottled fish, and a guerrilla specimen, went at it like a man, and disappeared before the eyes of us close following him, then and there down through the water. He came up, thanks be, but his load is down there now, worse luck. Then I said we must get the rubber carriers who were coming this way to show us the fort. So we sat down on the bank, he tired, disconsolate, dilapidated looking row, until they arrived. When they came up they did not plunge in forthwith, but leisurely set about making a most nerve-shaking set of preparations, taking off their clothes and forming them into bundles, which to my horror they put on the tops of their heads. The women carried the rubber on their backs still, but rubber is none the worse for being under water. The men went in first, each holding his gun high above his head. They skirted the bank before they struck out into the swamp, and were followed by the women and by our party, and soon we were all up to our chins. We were two hours and a quarter passing that swamp. I was one hour and three quarters, but I made good weather of it, closely following the rubber carriers, and only going in right over head and all twice. Other members of my band were less fortunate. One and all we got horribly infested with leeches, having a frill of them round our necks like astrican collars, and our hands covered with them when we came out. We had to pass across the first bit of open country I had seen for a long time, a real patch of grass on the top of a low ridge, which is fringed with swamp on all sides save the one we made our way to, the eastern. Shortly after passing through another plantation we saw brown huts, and in a few minutes were standing in the middle of a ramshackle village, at the end of which, through a high stockade, with its gateways smeared with blood, which hung in gouts, we saw our much-longed-for Ramboy River. I made for it, taking small notice of the hubbub our arrival occasioned, and passed through the gateway, setting its guarding bell ringing violently. I stood on the steep black mud-slime bank, surrounded by a noisy crowd. It is a big river, but nothing to the Ogoe, either in breadth or beauty. What beauty it has is of a Niger Delta type, black, mud-laden water, with a mangrove swamp fringed to it in all directions. I soon turned back into the village and asked for Ogumu's factory. This is it. Said, an exceedingly dirty, good-looking, civil-spoken man in perfect English, though as pure-blooded and African as ever walked. This is it, sir. And he pointed to one of the huts on the right-hand side, indistinguishable in squalor from the rest. Where's the agent? Said I. I'm the agent, he answered. You could have knocked me down with a feather. Where's John Holt's factory? Said I. You have passed it. It is up on the hill. This showed me sir's Holt's local factory to be no bigger than Ogumu's. At this point, a big, scragy, very black man, with an irregularly-formed face the size of a tea-tray, and looking generally as if he had come out of a pantomime on the Arabian knights, dashed through the crowd, shouting, I'm for Holti, I'm for Holti. This is my trade. You go away, says agent number one. Fearing my two agents would fight and damage each other so that neither would be any good for me, I firmly said, Have you got any rum? Agent number one looked crestfallen, Holti's triumphant. Rum for sure, says he, so I gave him a five-frank piece which he regarded with great pleasure, and putting it in his mouth, he legged it like a lamplighter away to his store on the hill. Have you any tobacco? said I to agent number one. He brightened. Plenty tobacco, plenty cloth, said he, so I told him to give me out twenty heads. I gave my men two heads apiece. I told them rum was coming and ordered them to take the loads on to Hatten and Cookson's agents hut, and then to go and buy chop and make themselves comfortable. They highly approved this plan, and grunted ascent ecstatically, and just as the loads were stowed, Holti's anatomy hoved in sight with a bottle of rum under each arm and one in each hand, while behind him came an acolyte, a fat small boy, panting and puffing and doing his level best to keep up with his long-legged flying master. I gave my men some and put the rest in with my goods, and explained that I belong to Hatten and Cookson's, it's the proper thing to belong to somebody, and that therefore I must take up my quarters at their store. But Holti's energetic agent hung about me like a vulture in hopes of getting more five frank peas pickings. I sent Ingotta off to get me some tea, and had the hut cleared of an excited audience, and shut myself in with Hatten and Cookson's agent, and asked him seriously and anxiously if there was not a big factory of the firms on the river, because it was self-evident he had not got anything like enough stuff to pay off my men with, and my agreement was to pay off on the Remboy, hence my horror at the smallness of the firms in Dorco Store. Besides, I said, Mr. Glass, I knew the head Remboy agent of Hatten and Cookson was a Mr. Glass. You have only got cloth and tobacco, and I have promised the fans to pay off in whatever they chose, and I know for sure they want powder. I am not Mr. Glass, said my friend. He is up at Agonjo, I only do small trade for him here. Joy, but where's Agonjo? To make a long story short I found Agonjo was an hour's paddle up the Remboy, and the place we ought to have come out at. There was a botheration again about sending up a message because of a war palaver, but I got a pencil note with my letter of introduction from Mr. Cuckshot to sang a glass at last delivered to that gentleman, and down he came in a state of a considerable astonishment, not unmixed with alarm for no white men of any kind had been across from the Ogowe for years, and none had ever come out at in Dorco. Mr. Glass I found an exceedingly neat, well-educated Impongwe gentlemen in irreproachable English garments, and with irreproachable but slightly flurried English language. We started talking trade with my band in the middle of the street, making a patch of uproar in the moonlit surrounding silence. As soon as we thought we had got one gentleman's mind settled as to what goods he would take his pay in, and were proceeding to investigate another gentleman's little fancies. Gentleman number one's mind came all to pieces again, and he wanted to room his bundle, i.e. change articles in it for other articles of an equivalent value, if it must be, but of a higher, if possible. Oh ye shopkeepers in England, who grumble at your lady customers, just you come out here and try to serve and satisfy a set of fans. Mr. Glass was evidently an expert at the affair, but it was past eleven p.m. before we got the orders written out and getting my baggage into some canoes that Mr. Glass had brought down from Agonjo, for in Dorco only had a few very wretched ones. I started off up river with him, and all the Ajumba and Kiva the fan who had been promised a safe conduct. He came to see the bundles for his fellow fans were made up satisfactorily. The canoes being small there was quite a procession of them. Mr. Glass and I shared one, which was paddled by two small boys, how we ever got up the remboy that night I do not know, for although neither of us were fat, the canoe was a one-man canoe, and the water lapped over the edge in an alarming way. Had any of us sneezed, or had it been daylight, when two or three mangrove flies would have joined the party, we must have foundered, but all went well. And on arriving at Agonjo, Mr. Glass most kindly opened his store, and by the light of lamps and lanterns we picked out the goods from his varied and ample supply, and handed them over to the Ajumba and Kiva, and all safe three of the Ajumba were satisfied. The three, gray shirt, silenced, and pagan quietly explained to me that they found the remboy price so little better than the lemba at any price that they would rather get their pay off Mr. Cockshut than risk taking it back through the fan country, so I gave them books on him. I gave all my remaining trade goods and the rest of the rum to the fans as a dash, and they were more than satisfied. I must say they never clamored for dash for top. The passenger we had brought through with us, who had really made himself very helpful, was quite surprised at getting a bundle of goods from me. My only anxiety was as to whether Fika would get his share all right, but I expect he did, for the Ajumbas are very honest men, and they were going back with my fan friends. I found out by the buy the reason of Fika's shyness in coming through to the remboy. It was a big wife palaver. I had a touching farewell with the fans, and so in peace, good feeling, and prosperity, I parted company for the second time with the terrible Empongue, whom I hoped to meet with again, for with all their many faults and failings they are real men. I am faint-hearted enough to hope that our next journey together may not be over a country that seems to me to have been laid down as an obstacle race-track for Mr. G. F. Watts's Titans, and to have fallen into shocking bad repair. End of Chapter 9 From Esun to Agonjo CHAPTER 10 BUSH TRAIT AND FAN CUSTOMS Wherein the Voyager, having fallen among the Black Traders, discourses on these men and their manner of life, and the difficulties and dangers attending the barter they carry on with the Bush Savages, and on some of the reasons that makes this barter so beloved and followed by both the Black Trader and the Savage, to which is added an account of the manner of life of the Fan Tribe, the strange form of coinage used by these people, their manner of hunting the elephant, working in iron, and such like things. I spent a few lazy, pleasant days at Agonjo, Mr. Glass doing all he could to make me comfortable, though he had a nasty touch of fever on him just then. His efforts were ably seconded by his good lady, an exceedingly calmly Gaboon Woman, with pretty manners and an excellent gift in cookery. The third member of the staff was a storekeeper, a clever fellow. I fancy a loango from his clean-cut features and spare-make, but his tribe I know not for surety. One of these Black Trader factories is an exceedingly interesting place to stay at, for in these factories you are right down on the bedrock of the trade. On the coast, for the greater part, the White Traders are dealing with Black Traders, middlemen, who have procured their trade stuff from the Bush natives who collect and prepare it. Here in the Black Trader factory you see the first stage of the export part of the trade, namely the barter of the collected trade stuff between the collector and the middlemen. I will not go into details regarding it. What I saw merely confirmed my opinion that the native is not cheated, no not even by a fellow African Trader, and I will merely hear pause to sing a peon to a very unpopular class. The Black Middlemen, as he exists on the south-west coast. It is impossible to realize the gloom of the lives of these men in Bush factories unless you have lived in one. It is no use saying they know nothing better and so don't feel it, for they do know several things better, being very sociable men, fully appreciative of the joys of a coast town and their aim, object and end in life is in almost every case, to get together a fortune that will enable them to live in one, give a dance twice a week, card parties most nights, and dress themselves up so that their fellow coast townsmen may hate them and their townswomen love them. From their own accounts of the dreadful state of trade and the awful and unparalleled series of losses they have had, from the upsetting of canoes, the raids and robberies made on them and their goods, by those awful Bush savages. You would, if you were of a trustful disposition, regard the Black Trader with an admiring awe as the man who has at last solved the great commercial problem of how to keep a shop and live by the loss. Nay, not only live, but build for himself an equivalent to a palatial residence and keep up not only it, but half a dozen wives with a fine taste for dress every one of them. I am not of a trustful disposition, and I accept those losses with a heavy discount, and know most of the rest of them have come out of my friend the wide trader's pockets. Still I can never feel the righteous indignation that I ought to feel when I see the Black Trader down in a seaport town with his Nancy, etc., as Sir W. H. S. Gilbert classically says, because I remember those Bush factories. Mr. Glass, however, was not a trader who made a fortune by losing those of other people, for he had been many years in the employ of the firm. He had risen certainly to the high post and position of charge of the Remboy, but he was not down giddy flying at Gabun. His accounts of his experiences when he had been many years ago away, up the still-known Nguni River, in a factory in touch with a lively Backele, then in a factory among fans and Igalwa on the Ogoe, and now among fans and Skekayani on the Remboy, were fascinating and told vividly of the joys of first starting a factory in a wild district. The way in which your customers for the first month or so enjoyed themselves by trying to frighten you, the trader out of your wits and goods, and into giving them fancy prizes for things you were trading in, and for things of no earthly use to you or anyone else. The trader's existence during this period is marked by every unpleasantness save dullness, from that he is spared by the presence of a mob of noisy, dangerous, thieving savages all over his place all day, invading his cookhouse to put some nastiness into his food as a trade charm, helping themselves to portable property at large, and making themselves at home to the extent of sitting on his dining table. At night those customers proceed to sleep all over the premises with a view to being on hand to start shopping in the morning. Woe betide the trader if he gives into this and tolerates the invasion, for there is no chance of that house ever being his own again, and in addition to the local flies, etc., on the tablecloth he will always have several big black gentlemen to share his meals. If he raises prices to tide over some extra row he is a lost man, for the Africans can understand prices going up but never prices coming down, and time being no object they will hold back their trade. Then the district is ruined and the trader along with it, for he cannot raise the price he gets for the things he buys. What that trader has got to do is to be a devil-man. They always kindly said they recognized me as one which is a great compliment. He must betray no weakness, but a character which I should describe as a compound of the best parts of those of Cardinal Rochelieu, Brutus, Julius Caesar, Prince Metternich, and Mesophanti, the latter to carry on the native language part of the business, and he must cast those customers out, not only from his house but from his yard, and adhere to the no admittance except on business principle. This causes a good deal of unpleasantness, and the trader's knights are now cheered by lively war dances outside his stockade, the accompanying songs advertising that the customers are coming over the stockade to raid the store and cut up the trader into bits like a fish. Sometimes they do come and then finish but usually they don't and gradually settle down and respect the trader greatly as a devil-man and to business on sound lines during the day. Over the stockade at night by ones and twos stealing they will come to the end of the chapter. Moonlight knights are fairly restful for the bush trader, but when it is inky black or pouring with rain, he has got to be very much out and about and particularly vigilant as he got to be on tornado nights, a most uncomfortable sort of weather to attend to business in, I assure you. The factory at Agonjo was typical, the house is a fine specimen of the Igalwa style of architecture, mounted on poles above the ground, the space under the house being used as a store for rubber in barrels and ebony in billets thereby enabling the trader to hover over these precious possessions sleeping and waking like a sitting hen over her eggs. Near to the house are the sleeping places for the beach hands and the cookhouse. In front, in a position commanded by the eye from the veranda and well withdrawn from the stockade, are great piles of billets of red bar wood. The whole of the clean sand yard containing these things and diverse others is surrounded by a stout stockade, its main face to the river frontage, the water at high tide lapping its base, and at low tide exposing in front of it a shore of black slime. Although I cite this factory as a typical factory of a black trader, it is a specimen of the highest class for being in connection with Messier's Hatten and Cookson it is well kept up and stocked. Firms differ much in this particular. Messier's Hatten and Cookson, like Messier's Miller brothers in the Bytes, take every care that lies in their power of the people who serve them down to the crew boys working on their beaches, giving ample and good rations and providing good houses. But this is not so with all firms on the coast. I have seen factories belonging to the Swedish houses beside which this factory at Agonjo is a palace, although those factories are white man factories, and the unfortunate white men in them are expected by these firms to live on native chop. An expectation the agents by no means realize for they usually die. Black hands however do not suffer much at the hands of such firms, for the Swedish agents are a quiet gentlemanly set of men, in the best sense of that much misused term, and they do not employ on their beaches such a staff of black helpers as the English houses, so the two or three crew boys on a starvation beach can fairly well fend for themselves. For there is always an adjacent village, and in that village there are always chickens and on the shore crabs, and in the river fish, and for the rest of its diet the crew boy flirts with the local ladies. Although as I have laid down the bush factory at its best is a place, as Mr. Tracy Tubman would say, more fitted for a wounded heart than for once still able to feast on social joys. It is a luxurious situation for a black trader compared to the other form of trading it deals with, that of travelling among the native villages in the bush. This has one hundred times the danger, and a thousand times the discomfort and is a thoroughly unhealthy pursuit. The journeys these bush traders make are often remarkable, and they deserve great credit for the courage and enterprise they display. Certainly they run less risk of death from fever than a white man would, but on the other hand their colour gives them no protection, and their chance of getting murdered is distinctly greater. The white governmental powers cannot revenge their death in the way they would the death of a white man, for these murders usually take place away in some forest region in a district no white man has ever penetrated. You will naturally ask how it is that so many of these men do survive to lead a life of sin, as a missionary described to me their co-stown life to be. This question struck me as requiring explanation. The result of my investigations and the answers I have received from the men themselves show that there is a reason why the natives do not succumb every time to the temptation to kill the trader and take his goods, and this is twofold. Firstly, all trade in West Africa follows definite routes, even in the wildest parts of it, and so a village far away in the forest, but on the trade route, knows that as a general rule twice a year a trader will appear to purchase its rubber and ivory. If he does not appear somewhere about the expected time that village gets uneasy. The ladies are impatient for their new clothes, the gentlemen half-wild for want of tobacco, and things coming to a crisis they make inquiries for the trader down the road, one village to another, and then if it is found that a village has killed the trader and stolen all his goods, there is naturally a big palaver, and things are made extremely hot, even for equatorial Africa, for that village by the tobacco-less husbands of the clothless wives. Herein lies the trader's chief safety, the village not being an atom afraid or disinclined to kill him, but afraid of their neighboring villages and disinclined to be killed by them. But the trader is not yet safe. There is still a hole in his armor, and this is only to be stopped up in one way, namely by wives, for you see, although the village cannot kill him and take all his goods, they can still let him die safely of a disease and take part of them, passing on sufficient stuff to the other villages to keep them quiet. Now the most prevalent disease in the African bush comes out of the cooking pot, and so to make what goes into the cooking pot, which is the important point for earthen pots to not in themselves breed poison, safe and wholesome, you have got to have someone who is devoted to your health to attend to the cooking affairs, and who can do this like a wife. So you have a wife, one in each village up the whole of your route. I know myself one gentleman whose wives stretch over three hundred miles of country with a good wife base in a coast town as well. This system of judiciously conducted alliances gives the black trader a security nothing else can, because naturally he marries into influential families at each village and all his wife's relations on the mother's side regard him as one of themselves and look after him and his interests. That security can lie in women, especially so many women, the so called civilized man may ironically doubt, but the security is there and there only and on a sound basis for remember the position of a traveling trader's wife in a village is a position that gives the lady prestige. The discreet husband showing little favors to her family and friends if she asks for them when he is with her and then she has not got the bother of having a man always about the house and liable to get all sorts of silly notions into his head if she speaks to another gentleman and then go and impart these notions to her with a cutlass or a casango as the more domestic husband I am assured by black ladies is prone to. You may now I fear be falling into the other adjacent error from the wonder why any black trader survives namely into the wonder why any black trader gets killed with all these safeguards and wives. But there is yet another danger which no quantity of wives nor local jealousies avail to guard him through. This danger arises from the nomadic habits of the bush tribes, notably the fan, for when a village has made up its mind to change its district either from having made the district too hot to hold it with quarrels with neighboring villages or because it has exhausted the trade stuff i.e. rubber and ivory in reach of its present situation or because some other village has raided it and taken away all the stuff it was saving to sell to the black trader. It resolves to give itself a final treat in the old home and make a commercial coop at one fell swoop. Then when the black trader turns up with his boxes of goods it kills him has some for supper smokes the rest and takes it in the goods and departs to found new homes in another district. The bush trade I have above sketched is the bush trade with the fans. In those districts on the southern banks of the Ogoe the main features of the trade and the trader's life are the same but the details are more intricate for the Igalwa trader from Lembalene, Ferdinand Vaz or Indole, deals with another set of trading tribes not first hand with the collectors. The fan villages on the trade routes may however be regarded as trade depots for to them filters the trade stuff of the more remote villages so the difference is really merely technical and in all villages alike the same sort of thing occurs. The Igalwa or Impongware trader arrives with the goods he has received from the white trader and there are great rejoicing and much uproar as his chests and bundles and demi-jons are brought up from the canoe and presently after a great deal of talk the goods are opened. The chiefs of the village have their pick and divide this among the principal men of the village who pay for it in part with their store of collected rubber or ivory and take the rest on trust promising to collect enough rubber to pay the balance on the next visit of the trader. Thereby the trader has a quantity of debts outstanding in each village liable to be bad debts and herein lies his chief loss. Each chief takes a certain understood value in goods as a commission for himself, nieno, giving the trader as a consideration for this an understood bond to assist him in getting in the trust granted to his village. This nieno he utilizes in buying trade stuff from villages not on the trade route. Among the fans the men who have got the goods stand by with these to trade for rubber with a general public and bachelors of the village in a way I will presently explain. In tribes like Ajumbas, Aduma, etc. the men having the goods travel off as traders among their various push tribes, similarly paying their nieno and so by the time the goods reach the final producing men only a small portion of them is left but their price has necessarily risen. Still it is quite absurd for a casual white traveller who may have dropped in on the terminus of a trade route to cry out regarding the small value the collector who is often erroneously described as the producer gets for his stuff compared to the price it fetches in Europe. For before it even reaches the factory of the coast settlement that stuff has got to keep a whole series of traders. It appears at first bad that this should be the case but the case it is along the west coast of the continent save in the districts commanded by the Royal Niger Company who with courage and enterprise have pushed far inland and got in touch with a great interior trade routes a performance which has raised in the breasts of the coast trader tribes who have been supplanted a keen animosity which like most animosity in Africa is not regardful of truth. The tribes that have had the trade of the Bid of Biafra passing through their hands have been accustomed according to the German government who are also pressing inland to make 75% profit on it and they resent being deprived of this. A good deal is to be said in favor of their views among other things that the greater part of the seaboard districts of West Africa I may say every part from Sierra Leone to Cameroon is structurally incapable of being self-supporting under existing conditions. Below Cameroon on my beloved southwest coast which is infinitely richer than the bite of Benin rich producing districts come down to the sea in most places until you reach the Congo but here again the middle man is of great use to the interior tribes and if they do have to pay him 75% serve them right they should not go making wife Palaver and blood Palaver all over the place to such an extent that the inhabitants of no village unless they go en masse they are taking 10 mile walk save at the risk of their lives in any direction so no Palaver live. We will now enter into the reason that induces the Bushmen to collect stuff to sell among the fans which is the expansiveness of the ladies in the tribe. A Bush fan is bound to marry into his tribe because over a great part of the territory occupied by them there is no other tribe handy to marry into and a fan residing in villages in touch with other tribes has but little chance of getting a cheaper lady for there is in the Congo Francaise and the country adjacent to the north of it Batanga a regular style of aristocracy which may be summarized firstly thus all the other tribes look down on the fans and the fans look down on all the other tribes this aristocracy has subdivisions the Mpongwe of Gabun are the upper circle tribe next come the Benga of Corisco then the Papuka then the Banaca the system of aristocracy is kept up by the ladies thus a Mpongwe lady would not think of marrying into one of the lower tribes so she is restricted with many inner restrictions to her own tribe a Benga lady would marry a Mpongwe or a Benga but not a Banaca or Papuka and so on with the others but not one of them would marry a fan as for the men well of course they would marry any lady of any tribe if she had a pretty face or a good trading connection if they were allowed to that's just man's way to the southeast the fans are in touch with a Bakele a tribe that has much in common with the fan but who differ from them in getting on in a very friendly way with a little dwarf people the Matimbas or Watwa or Akoa people the fans cannot abide with these Bakele the fan can intermarry but there is not much advantage in so doing as the price is equally high but still marry he must a young fan man has to fend for himself and has a scratchy kind of life of it aided only by his mother until if he be an enterprising youth he is able to steal a runaway wife from a neighboring village or if he is a quiet and steady young man until he has amassed sufficient money to buy a wife this he does by collecting ebony and rubber and selling it to the men who have been allotted goods by the chief of the village from the consignment brought up by the black trader he supports himself meanwhile by if the situation of his village permits fishing and selling the fish and hunting and killing game in the forest he keeps steadily added in his way reserving his roisterings until he is settled in life a truly careful young man does not go and buy a baby girl cheap as soon as he has got a little money together but works and saves on until he has got enough to buy a good tough widow lady who although personally unattractive is deeply versed in the lore of trade and who knows exactly how much rubbish you can incorporate in a ball of india rubber without the white trader or the black bush factory trader instantly detecting it when the fan young man has married his wife in a legitimate way on the cash system he takes her around to his relations and shows her off and they make little presents to help the pair set up housekeeping but the young man cannot yet settle down for his wife will not allow him to she's not going to slave herself to death doing all the work of the house etc and so he goes on collecting and she preparing trade stuff and he grows rich enough to buy other wives some of them young children others widows no longer necessarily old but it is not until he is well on in life that he gets sufficient wives six or seven for it takes a good time to get enough rubber to buy a lady and he does not get a grip on the ivory trade until he has got a certain position in the village and plantations of his own which the elephants can be discovered raiding in which case a percentage of the ivory taken from the herd is allotted to him now and again he may come across a dead elephant but that is of the nature of a windfall and on rubber and ebony he has to depend during his early days these he changes with the rich men of his village for a very peculiar and interesting form of coinage bk little iron imitation axe heads which are tied up in bundles called intet ten going to one bundle for with bk must the price of a wife be paid you do not find bk close down to libereville among the fans who are there in a semi civilized state or more properly speaking in a state of disintegrating culture you must go for bush i thought i saw in bk a certain resemblance in underlying idea with the early great coins i have seen at Cambridge made like the four parts of cattle and i have little doubt that the articles of barter among the fans before the introduction of the rubber ebony and ivory trades which in their districts are comparatively recent were iron implements for the fans are good workers in iron and it would be in consonants with well-known instances among other savage races in the matter of stone implements that these things important of old should survive and be employed in the matter of such an old and important affair as marriage they thus become juju and indeed all west african legitimate marriage although appearing to the casual observer a mere matter of barter is never solely such but always has juju in it we may as well here follow out the whole of the domestic life of the fan now we have got him married his difficulty does not only consist in getting enough bk together but in getting a lady he can marry no amount of bk can justify a man in marrying his first cousin or his aunt and as relationship among the fans is recognized with both his father and his mother not as among the galwa with the ladders blood relations only there are an awful quantity of aunts and cousins about from whom he is debarred but when he has surmounted his many difficulties and dodged his relations and married he is seemingly a better husband than the man of a more cultured tribe he will turn a hand to anything that does not necessitate his putting down his gun outside his village gateway he will help chop firewood or goats chop or he will carry the baby with pleasure while his good lady does these things and in bush villages he always escorts her so as to be on hand in case of leopards or other local and pleasantness when inside the village he will lay down his gun within handy reach and build the house tease outfiber to make game nets with and plate baskets or make pottery with the ladies cheerily chatting the while fan pottery although rough and sun baked is artistic in form and ornamented for the fan ornaments all his work the articles made in it consist of cooking pots palm wine bottles water bottles and pipes but not all water bottles nor all pipes are made of pottery i wish they were particularly the former for they are occasionally made of beautifully plated fiber coated with a layer of a certain gum with a vile taste which it imparts to the water in the vessel they say does not do this if the vessel is soaked for two days in water but it does and i should think contaminates the stream it was soaked in into the bargain the pipes are sometimes made of iron very neatly i should imagine they smoked hot but of this i have no knowledge one of my ajumba friends got himself one of these pipes when we were in f4wa and that pipe was on and off a curse to the party its owner soon learned not to hold it by the bowl but by the wooden stem when smoking it the other lessons it had to teach he learned more slowly he tucked it when he had done smoking into the fold in his cloth until he had three serious conflagrations raging around his middle and to the end of the chapter after having his last pipe at night with it he would lay it on the ground before it was cool he learned to lay it out of reach of his own cloth but his fellow ajumbas and he himself persisted in always throwing a leg onto it shortly after and there was another row the fan basket work is strongly made but very inferior to the fewer to basket work their nets are however the finest i've ever seen these are made mainly for catching small game such as the beautiful little gazelles in cherry with dark gray skins on the upper part of the body white underneath and satin like and sleekness all over their form is very dainty little legs being no thicker than a man's finger the neck long and the head ornamented with little pointed horns and broad round ears the nets are tied on to trees in two long lines which converge to an acute angle the bottom part of the net lying on the ground then a party of men and women accompanied by their trained dogs which have bells hung around their necks beat the surrounding bushes and the frightened small game rush into the nets and become entangled the fiber from which these nets are made has a long staple and is exceedingly strong i once saw a small bush cow caught in a set of them and unable to break through and once a leopard he however took his section of the net away with him and a good deal of vegetation and sticks to boot in addition to nets this fiber is made into bags for carrying things in while in the bush and into the water bottles already mentioned the iron work of the fans deserves a special notice for its excellence the anvil is a big piece of iron which is embedded firmly in the ground its upper surface is flat and pointed at both ends the hammers are solid cones of iron the upper part of the cones prolonged so as to give a good grip and the blows are given directly downwards like the blows of a pestle the bellows are of the usual african type cut out of one piece of solid but soft wood at the upper end of these bellows there are two chambers hollowed out in the wood and then covered with the skin of some animal from which the hair has been removed this is bound firmly around the rim of its chamber with tai-tai and the bag of it at the top is gathered up and bound to a small piece of stick to give a convenient handhold the straight cylinder terminating in the nozzle has two channels burnt in it which communicate with each of the chambers respectively and halfway up the cylinder there are burnt from the outside into the air passages three series of holes one series on the upper surface and a series at each side this ingenious arrangement gives a constant current of air up from the nozzle when the bellows are worked by a man sitting behind them and rapidly and alternately pulling up the skin cover over one chamber while depressing the other in order to make the affair firm it is lashed to pieces of stick stuck in the ground in a suitable way so as to keep the bellows at an angle with the nozzle directed towards the fire as wooden bellows like this if stuck into the fire would soon be a flame the nozzle is put into a cylinder made of clay this cylinder is made sufficiently large at the end into which the nozzle of the bellows goes for the air to have full play around the latter the fan bellows only differ from those of the other iron working west coast tribes in having the channels from the two chambers in one piece of wood all the way his forge is the same as the other forges a round cavity scooped in the ground his fuel also is charcoal his other smith's tool consists of a pointed piece of iron with which he works out the patterns he puts at the handle end of his swords etc i must now speak briefly on the most important article with which the fan deals namely ivory his methods of collecting this are several and many a wild story the handles of your table knives could tell you if their ivory has passed through fan hands for ivory is everywhere an evil thing before which the quest for gold sinks into a parlor game and when its charms sees such a tribe as the fans conclusions past their careers a very common way of collecting a tooth is to kill the person who owns one therefore in order to prevent this catastrophe happening to you yourself when you have one it is held advisable unless you are a powerful person in your own village to bury or sink the said tooth and say nothing about it until the trader comes into your district or you get a chance of smuggling it quietly down to him some of these private ivories are kept for years and years before they reach the traders hands and quite a third of the ivory you see coming on board a vessel to go to europe is dark from this keeping some teeth a lovely brown like a well-coloured mirsham others quite black and nod by that strange little creature much heard of and abused yet little known in ivory ports the ivory rat ivory however that is obtained by murder is private ivory the public ivory trade among the fans is carried on in a way more in accordance with european ideas of a legitimate trade the greater part of this ivory is obtained from dead elephants there are in this region certain places where the elephants are said to go to die a locality in one district pointed out to me as such a place was a great swamp in the forests a swamp that evidently was deep in the middle for from out its dark waters no swamp plant or tree grew and evidently its shores sloped suddenly for the band of swamp plants around its edge was narrow it is just possible that during the rainy season when most of the surrounding country would be under water elephants might stray into this natural trap and get drowned and on the drying up of the waters be discovered and the fact being known be regularly sought for by the natives cognizant of this i inquired carefully whether these places where the elephants came to die always had water in them but they said no and in one district spoke of a valley or round shaped depression in among the mountains but natives were naturally disinclined to take a stranger to these ivory minds and a white person who has caught as anyone who has been in touch must catch ivory fever is naturally equally disinclined to give localities a certain percentage of ivory collected by the fans is from live elephants but i am bound to admit that their method of hunting elephants is disgracefully unsportsmanlike a herd of elephants is discovered by rubber hunters or by depredations on plantations and the whole village men women children babies and dogs turn out into the forest and stalk the monsters into a suitable ravine taking care not to scare them when they have gradually edged the elephants on into a suitable place they fell trees and very roughly together with bushrope all round and immense enclosure still taking care not to scare the elephants into a rush this fence is quite inadequate to stop any elephant in itself but it is made effective by being smeared with certain things the smell whereof the elephants to test so much that when they wander up to it they turn back disgusted i need hardly remark that this preparation is made by the witch doctors and its constituents a secret of theirs and i was only able to find out some of them then poisoned plantains are placed within the enclosure and the elephants eat these and grow drowsier and drowsier if the water supply within the enclosure is a pool it is poisoned but if it is a running stream this cannot be done during this time the crowd of men and women spend their days around the enclosure ready to turn back any elephant who may attempt to break out going to and fro to the village for their food their nights they spend in little bow shelters by the enclosure watching more vigilantly than by day as the elephants are more active at night it being their usual fitting time during the whole time the witch doctor is hard at work making incantations and charms with a view to finding out the proper time to attack the elephants in my opinion his decision fundamentally depends on his knowledge of the state of poisoning the animals are in but his version is that he gets his information from the forest spirits when however he has settled the day the best hunter steal into the enclosure and take up safe positions in trees and the outer crowd set light to the ready-built fires and make the greatest uproar possible and fire upon the staggering terrified elephants as they attempt to break out the hunters in the trees fire down on them as they rush past the fatal point at the back of the skull being well exposed to them when the animals are nearly exhausted those men who do not possess guns dash into the enclosure and the men who do reload and join them and the work is then completed one elephant hunt I chanced upon at the final stage had taken two months preparation and although the plan sounds safe enough there is really a good deal of danger left in it with all the drugging and juju there were eight elephants killed that day but three burst through everything sending energetic spectators flying and squashing two men and a baby as flat as botanical specimens the subsequent proceedings were impressive the whole of the people gorged themselves on the meat for days and great chunks of it were smoked over the fires in all directions a certain portion of the flesh of the hind leg was taken by the witch doctor for juju and was supposed to be put away by him with certain suitable incantations in the recesses of the forest his idea being apparently either to give rise to more elephants or to induce the forest spirits to bring more elephants into the district doctor nasau tells me that the manner in which the ivory gained by one of these hunts is divided is as follows the witch doctor the chiefs and the family on whose ground the enclosure is built and especially the household whose women first discovered the animals decide in council as to the division of the tusks and the share of the flesh to be given to the crowd of outsiders the next day the tusks are removed and each family represented in the assemblage cuts up and distributes a flesh in the hunt I saw finished the elephants had not been discovered as in the case doctor nasau above speaks of in a plantation by women but by a party of rubber hunters in the forest some four or five miles from any village and the ivory that would have been allotted to the plantation holder in the former case went in this case to the young rubber hunters such are the pursuits sports and pastimes of my friends the fans I have been considerably chafed both by whites and blacks about my partiality for this tribe but as I like Africans in my way not a la Sierra Leone and these Africans have more of the qualities I like than any other tribe I have met it is but natural that I should prefer them are brave and so you can respect them which is an essential element in a friendly feeling they are on the whole a fine race particularly those in the mountain districts of the Sierra del Cristal where one continually sees magnificent specimens of human beings both male and female their color is light bronze many of the men have beards and albinos are rare among them the average height in the mountain districts is 5 feet 6 to 5 feet 8 the difference in stature between men and women not being great their countenances are very bright and expressive and if once you have been among them you can never mistake a fan but it is in their mental characteristics that their difference from the lethargic dying out coast tribes is most marked the fan is full of fire temper intelligence and go very teachable rather difficult to manage quick to take offense and utterly indifferent to human life I ought to say that other people who should know him better than I say he is a treacherous thievish murderous cannibal I never found him treacherous but then I never trusted him remembering one of the aphorisms of my great teacher captain bowler of bunny it's not safe to go among bush tries but if you are such a fool as to go you needn't go and be a bigger fool still you've done enough and captain bowler's other great aphorism was never be afraid of a black man what if I can't help it said I don't show it said he to these precepts I humbly add an extra line of to these precepts I humbly add another never lose your head my most favorite form of literature I may remark is accounts of mountaineering exploits though I have never seen a glacier or a permanent snow mountain in my life I do not care a row of pins how badly they may be written and what form of bubble puppy grammar and composition is employed as long as the rider will walk along the edge of a precipice with a sheer fall of thousands of feet on one side and a sheer wall in the other or better still crawl up in our rate with a precipice on either nothing on earth would persuade me to do either of these things myself but they remind me of bits of country I have been through where you walk along a narrow line of security with gulfs of murder looming on each side and wearing exactly the same way you are as safe as if you were in your easy chair at home as long as you get sufficient holding ground not on rock in the bush village inhabited by murderous cannibals but on ideas in those men's and women's minds and these ideas which I think I may say you will always find give you safety it is not advisable to play with them or to attempt to eradicate them because you regard them as superstitious and never never shoot too soon I have never had to shoot and hope never to have to because in such a situation one white alone with no troops to back him means a clean finish but this would not discourage me if I had to start only it makes me more inclined to walk around the obstacle than to become a mere blood splotch against it if this can be done without losing yourself respect which is the main spring of your power in West Africa as for flourishing about a revolver and threatening to fire I hold it utter idiocy I have never tried it however so I speak from prejudice which arises from the feeling that there is something cowardly in it always have your revolver ready loaded in good order and have your hand on it when things are getting warm and in addition have an exceedingly good bowie knife not a hinge knife because with a hinge knife you have got to get it open hard work in a country where all things go rusty in the joints and hinge knives are liable to close on your own fingers the best form of knife is the bowie with a shallow half moon cut out of the back at the point end and this depression sharpened to a cutting edge a knife is essential because after wading neck deep in a swamp your revolver is neither used nor ornament until you have had time to clean it but the chances are you may go across Africa or live years in it and require neither it is just the case of the gentleman who asked if one required a revolver in Carolina and was answered you may be here one year and you may be here too and never want it but when you do want it you'll want it very bad the cannibalism of the fans although a prevalent habit is no danger I think to white people except as regards the bother it gives one in preventing one's black companions from getting eaten the fan is not a cannibal from sacrificial motives like the negro he does it in his common sense way man's flesh he says is good to eat very good and he wishes you would try it oh dear no he never eats it himself but the next door town does he is always very much abused for eating his relations but he really does not do this he will eat his next door neighbor's relations and sell his own deceased to his next door neighbor in return but he does not buy slaves and fatten them up for his table as some of the middle Congo tribes I know of do he has no slaves no prisoners of war no cemeteries so he must draw your own conclusions no my friend I will not tell you any cannibal stories I have heard how good em do chaloo fared after telling you some beauties and now you come away from the fan village and down the rim boy river end of chapter 10 bush trade and fan customs read by cane day of botrack.com