Math for Health Care Professionals 2nd

Edition Kennamer Solutions Manual

Visit to download the full and correct content document: https://testbankdeal.com/dow
nload/math-for-health-care-professionals-2nd-edition-kennamer-solutions-manual/
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 Weary of the dispute, and seeing that I was quite decided not to
return to the village, the messenger from the chief now left. Our old
guide was in despair, for he had boasted so much to us of his
influence over the chief of Bussa. “I must have become blind or
stupid,” he said, “for he cannot really have been telling lies all the
time.”
I tried to persuade Amadu to accompany us at least, but he
confessed that though it was true he had passed the rapids, it was
twenty years ago. Still he did not like to refuse straight out. He would
land now, and then he would see.
Night had now fallen, and a quarter of an hour after our guide had
left we heard loud cries and the noise of people running. We seized
our weapons, but it was only old Amadu coming back out of breath.
Four or five pieces of stuff which I had given him as payment had
been stolen from him. Some men had fallen on him about half-way to
the village.
Seeing that they meant to take his life, or at least to deprive him of
liberty, he had drawn his sword (it was only a bit of iron from an old
cask), resolved to defend himself to the last. The Bussa bravos, five
against one poor old man, had at first run away, and Amadu had
profited by their alarm to take to his own legs. Then they ran after
him again, but he managed to get safely back to us on board our
boat without further adventures.
These silly natives had thus secured us a guide on whom I had
certainly not counted, for Amadu would not leave our boats now. I
asked him if he wanted to go down as far as Leba, to which he
replied “Dolé,” or needs must.
For the whole night I pondered on the situation, whilst a continual
watch was kept on board. My first idea was to bombard the village of
Bussa at daybreak, and thus give its people a severe lesson. There
really had been a flagrant and successful attack made on the person
of a member of my expedition.
Further reflection, however, brought me to a better mind, for, truth
to tell, I did not know how matters stood with regard to the questions
of delimitation between the French and the English. The latter claim
Bussa in virtue of treaties made with the Royal Niger Company, but
Commandant Toutée denies that these treaties are valid. Who is
right? Who is wrong? I am sure I don’t know. The chief of Bussa
acted towards me as if he were quite independent, and perhaps he
is the one to speak the truth after all.
If, however, the actual or implicit assertions of the English be true,
it results that one of their protégés had committed an aggression on
one of our party, the odium and responsibility of which rests with
them. Either they have effective power and real influence at Bussa,
which would make them accomplices, or they have not, and in the
latter case their assertions are lies. The dilemma appears to me to
be one difficult to elude, and I leave to French diplomatists the task
of deducting from it the practical consequences.
I think I must have scented mischief when I refrained from
accepting the chief’s last invitation. That at least was the opinion of
our guide, for he is convinced that if he had not made his escape the
evening before, his head would have been no longer on his
shoulders.
I learnt later that when the attack took place on the director
Fonssagrives at Yangbassu, the people of Bussa had sent
reinforcements to the assailants. Once more a mere chance had
saved us from a great danger, and from falling into the trap set for
us.
 AMONG THE RAPIDS.

The 7th and 8th of this month will ever remain in our memories
two of the most terrible of the whole journey. Just because we had in
them to meet the last dangers of our eventful journey down the
Niger, at least of those dangers for which Nature alone was
responsible, the anxiety they caused seemed almost unbearable.
At first the river was easily navigable enough, but we soon came
to the first rapid. This we crossed successfully, however, the Davoust
in one great rush, the Aube after being compelled to anchor just
above it, till Digui returned for her with a reinforcement of rowers.
We anchored at Malali for breakfast, and Digui went to
reconnoitre the rapid below that village. We were just finishing our
meal when some messengers arrived from the chief of Bussa. Yet
again we are to hear from him!
The messengers explained that although a nominal ruler, the chief
had really less influence than any one in his village. He had done his
very utmost to overcome the indifference of those about him to our
wishes, but it had all been in vain. “We were relations!” he added,
and he did not wish us to go away angry with him. To this I replied
that one of our men had been molested and robbed, and I would not
add a syllable to anything which was said until the objects stolen
from him had been restored and the guilty men punished. The
messengers swore that the chief knew nothing about the outrage,
and, after all, this may have been true, for this poor down-trodden
demi-god of a chief had none but venal courtiers about him, and
unless we interfere to save it, Bussa is a prey marked down for the
big teeth of perfidious Albion.
Digui returned wet through; he had tried to shoot the rapid, but the
canoe was swamped, and he had only just time to save himself by
running her into the bank. In fact, it was quite impossible to
reconnoitre here as we had hitherto done. We had to make
examining the river from the banks do. Such was the violence of the
current, so narrow were the passes and so big the waves, that
canoes could only pass the rapids by shooting through little channels
quite impracticable to our barges.
A dreary prospect truly! But one way was open to us, and not
even the natives knew anything about it. We walked along the bank,
and an eager discussion took place at each eddy we came to. Were
there rocks beneath them or were they merely whirlpools? At last,
thanks be to God, we came to the end of them.
We managed, after all, to pass them all in our boats, and they
were indeed enough to terrify any one; but they were really more
alarming than dangerous, for there was plenty of water above most
of the rocks. In one pass, some 54 yards wide, shut in between two
large reefs, a good half of the waters of the Niger flings itself over
with a tremendous roar.
The immense velocity of the current is such that the water dashes
up the banks like the waves of the sea, and there is one paradoxical
thing about it: the level is at least three feet higher near the banks
than in midstream, where a kind of trough is formed.
It is along this trough that we have to steer, and it is really very
dreadful to see the large masses of water piled up on either side,
looking as if they were ready to rush together and engulf us between
them.
Digui made a very sensible speech to his crew.
“Attention,” he cried, “no one is to look out of the boat; every one
must put out all his strength; but I’ll break the head of the first man
who looks beyond the deck.”
Then ensued thirty seconds of mortal agony; there was a kind of
flash like lightning, and the current had seized the barge in its grip,
hugging it tightly. The vessel seemed about to break beneath the
masses of water flung back from the banks to the centre of the
stream, but it was over; we had got safely through the pass.
I estimate the speed of the current at from twelve to fourteen
miles, and if the boat had struck on an unnoticed rock as it rushed
along, we knew that it must have been split open from stem to stern.
On the right of the pass is a group of little islands where the
current is broken up, and its strength lessened. It is amongst them
that canoes are able to get through, turning the quieter water to
account; but, as I said before, the passes there were too narrow for
our boats.
We were soon flung on to a second rapid, less majestic and
terrible in appearance, but perhaps more dangerous than the first. To
pass it safely, we had to steer to the left to begin with, and then bear
to the right as much as possible to avoid the waves driven back in
that direction by a great rock over which the water fell like a huge
moustache; only the utmost care and skill saved the boats from
being flung upon a bank of sharp flints near the left bank. In fact, it
was an even more delicate manœuvre to achieve than to describe!
 THE RAPIDS BELOW BUSSA.

Beyond this rapid the water was boiling and seething as in some
huge caldron; whirlpools and waves met and clashed into each
other, and even between the rapids, in comparatively calm water,
there was such a swell on that the boats were lifted high up and
rolled about as if at sea.
We anchored off Garafiri, whilst above and below us roared the
rapids.
The next day, the 8th, we started early and passed without
difficulty the Kandji rapid, which is comparatively easy. We
breakfasted at Konotasi; at least, that is the way the natives seem to
me to pronounce the name marked Kpatachi on maps.
Digui again went to reconnoitre, and came back with the gloomy
face of old difficult days. The trading canoes which had left Bussa
during our stay there had not yet gone, but were about to discharge
their cargoes. They would take a little channel on the right, but it was
too narrow for us. Moreover, there was not yet water enough even
for native boats, and they would have to wait for an inundation. We
must again follow the main stream, and we went along the banks to
look for the pass.
 Malali was nothing to what we had now to encounter, for the only
pass was by an opening not as big as that of the sluice of a canal.
“Can we pass, Digui?” we asked.—“Yes, perhaps,” he replied, “if it
is the will of Allah!”
With this assurance we had to be content, and I gave the order
“Forward!”
When my old guide saw us steering towards the left to take the
course impracticable even to native canoes he was terrified. “Laol
alla! Laol alla!” he cried, “there is no pass there!” I put my hand over
his mouth to make him hold his tongue, and flinging himself upon the
deck he hid his head in his cloak.
I got my camera ready for taking a photograph, but Digui said to
me. “It is not worth while!”—“Why?” I asked.—“Because you will not
be able to look. You will be afraid!”
Yet Digui had seen me look at places still less attractive than this
pass, which was no pass.
I proved him wrong to some extent, for I did succeed in getting
two photographs of the banks we were passing. I don’t deny,
however, that I felt a slight shudder pass over me, and I hope I am
not more of a coward than any one else would have been under the
circumstances.
 AMONG THE RAPIDS.

This time we experienced a peculiar sensation such as we had

never had before; when the boat passed over the whirlpools,
everywhere intersecting each other, it seemed to be alternately
sucked in and flung out again by the masses of water.
One instant of calm, then a second rapid, and we anchored in a
little creek; Digui then went back to fetch the Aube and the Dantec,
and we found ourselves all once more safely together.
We had still two more rapids to cross, the first easy, the second
more difficult, on account of a very violent current flowing towards a
channel on the left encumbered with flints.
According to the maps, we should now come to a stretch of calm
water. I hoped to anchor above the Auru pass, which would be the
last, and to attempt its passage the next day.
At Auru the Niger makes a bend to the right of ninety degrees,
and the main channel is so terribly encumbered with rocks and
impedimenta of all kinds, whilst the current is at the same time so
fearfully strong, that it would not do to attempt to go down it in the
night. However, there is an arm which cuts across the bend, and
though still very difficult, makes it possible to shoot the rapid.
All of a sudden, as we were quietly going along, the river in front
of us seemed to turn abruptly to the right.
I began to suspect that there was a mistake on the maps, and that
we were much nearer to Auru than we had thought. Still I hesitated
for a minute. However, there was a little channel on the right with a
hill rising above it on which was perched a village. It must be Auru.
Just then the main current, which grew rapidly stronger, seized us,
and we were on the point of being swept down by it and swamped.
“To the bank! To the bank, Digui!” I shouted; “quick, quick!”—“All
right, all right,” was the reply, and he tried to wring an explanation out
of the guide, who could give none. Ten seconds wasted in
discussion, and it would be too late. We were too late; we had
passed the practicable channel.
“Anchor! anchor!” I shouted. Yes, the anchors hold, and for the
moment we are saved!
On our starboard the banks consisted of half-submerged flints,
from which grew some small aquatic trees. It was this vegetation
which had misled our guide, for when he was here twenty years
before it did not exist.
We now had to make our way against the current to get back to
the good channel. It was simply impossible to do so by rowing. The
only thing to be done was to lengthen our ropes, and fastening them
to trees, tow ourselves along, so to speak, from place to place. It
took us about three hours and a half to do it.
Somehow or another, however, we did achieve the difficult task of
getting safely into the right course again.
The Dantec, which had anchored behind the Davoust, had only a
light load now, and I thought it would take less time for her to cross
the river and go up along the left bank, where the current was less
violent.
 Unfortunately, however, the manœuvre was not executed as
quickly as it should have been, for the Dantec drifted a good way in
making the crossing, and it was just all she could do to get up-
stream again.
We moored the two big boats to trees, and Digui went once more
to reconnoitre. We now had to slip as best we could through the
narrow channels between the rocks, before we attempted the
shooting of the rapid itself.
We should have had time to pass before night, but I would not
leave the Dantec behind, and I sent Digui in his canoe to her with
extra rowers. We remained moored to our trees, and fortunately
found near our stopping-place a little bit of nearly dry ground, where
we were able to light a fire.
At first we could see the Dantec slowly making her way up-
stream, then she became hidden by trees. Two whole hours of
suspense passed by, and it was now quite dark. We shouted as loud
as we could to make ourselves heard above the noise of the rapids,
but no answer came for a long time. All of a sudden we heard Digui’s
voice crying: “We are swamped!” A momentary lull in the roar of the
water had enabled us to hear these far from reassuring words, but
the rest died away in the darkness of the night. Was our barge then
at the bottom of the river? What had become of our coolies? Were
they drowned or clinging to some bushes on the bank? There was
no way of helping them, for Digui had taken the canoe. It was a cruel
moment for us all, and our anxiety was redoubled when we presently
saw the canoe coming back with only three men in her.
But after all every one was safe and the barge uninjured. As she
was going up-stream the Dantec had got her mast caught in a tree,
and had been tilted over so that she filled with water; in fact was, as
Digui had cried, swamped for the moment. Fortunately, however,
some roots kept her up, and our coolies had managed to get rid of
the water and float her again. She was not able to join us yet, but
she was moored to some trees quite close to us.
That night was anything but pleasant to any of us. We were wet
through, and anxiety about the morrow kept us awake. After a time
the perpetual noise of the water surging about the rocks and round
the trunks of the trees produces a peculiar effect on the mind, an
effect alike strange and depressing, for one fancies one hears the
moaning of the spirits of the water, which the natives believe haunt
the river.
Our guide told us that the Auru rapids are inhabited by demons,
whose voices are heard at night. They are said to have a passion for
everything of a red colour, so that those who navigate the river have
to hide anything of that hue, lest the demons should swamp their
boats for the sake of getting possession of it.
I never saw the devils of Auru, but I can honestly say that I heard
them; in fact, that we all heard them. All through the night one or the
other of us was constantly being woke up by peculiar noises,
amongst which we certainly fancied we could distinguish voices.
In this frame of mind, and unable as we were to communicate with
the Dantec, we kept thinking that some misfortune had befallen her,
and that the strange voices were those of our coolies clinging
perhaps to trees as they called for help, or consulting together what
they could do to save themselves.
But day dawned at last, and we succeeded in towing back the
Dantec, on which we found our men all well, though very cold and
weary. We now held a consultation and decided that the Davoust
should pass first and anchor opposite the point of the island between
the two arms of the river. Digui and some coolies would then go back
from there to help in bringing down the Aube and the Dantec.
We threaded our way carefully amongst the rocks to keep in the
right channel, and then the Dantec simply fell into the rapids. There
was less swell with fewer waves than there had been at Garafiri or at
Konotasi, but I think there was also less depth of water. On the right
and the left were countless rocks over which the river dashed
foaming and seething. We found it impossible to anchor as we had
intended off the end of the island, for the current swept us into the
village of lower Auru on the right bank.
 I therefore sent Digui back by land with some of the men. We
waited for two hours without hearing anything. At last we saw one of
the coolies running back to us, and he brought the bad news that in
trying to cross the small arm of the river to take the second master
pilot on board, the canoe had capsized, and the Aube had now no
means of communicating with the land. Baudry had sent to ask me
to try and get a boat from the village. I went there, and with the aid of
our guide Amadu I made my request. Very great unwillingness to
grant it was at first shown, followed by a formal refusal on the ground
that the villagers had been forbidden to help us. Who had forbidden
it? I could not find out. I drew forth my revolver and held it to the
chief’s forehead. It was the first and last time I ever had recourse to
such an argument as this, but it had the desired effect. A canoe was
sent off from the village with two rowers, and I went along the bank
to the place where the Aube was anchored.
When I got there, I found that the canoe was righted again. Our
coolies had plunged into the very rapid itself, and clinging to
submerged roots they had succeeded in passing ropes under her
keel and floating her. The water where she had gone down was
more than nine feet deep. Brave fellows, indeed, were these coolies
of mine! They may have their faults; they are gluttons and liars; they
are often lazy enough; but on any dangerous emergency these
scions of the noble Sarracolais race rise to the occasion, and their
devotion may be depended upon under whatever strain.
Baudry now informed me that the rudder of the Dantec was
broken, so that it was impossible to steer her. “Take the crew off and
abandon her? No! I hope to take her on by towing her!”
I watched everything made ready for the difficult manœuvre. The
Dantec was towed along from tree to tree, to the very edge of the big
rapid, whilst behind her came the canoe with a rope passed twice
round a trunk, as her bow plunged into the foam. On the stern of the
Aube stood Samba Demba, our best coolie, with a coiled rope in his
arms, ready to fling it to the Dantec as she went over the rapid. One
second’s hesitation, and everything would go wrong, and I was on
the very point of shouting to Baudry to give up his plan, but it was
really such a splendid piece of daring, such a thoroughly sailor-like
thing to do, that I refrained. Yet once more, thank God, we
succeeded, coming off with flying colours.
Slowly the Aube loosened her moorings, and the current at first
took her gently down, then quicker and ever quicker she rushed
along as she crossed the Dantec. Bravo! the rope, flung with
unerring aim, fell right into her bow. “Let go all!” and the Aube and
Dantec plunged into the rapid. Will they be able to shoot it in safety?
The shouts of the excited coolies reach me above the roar of the
water. The doctor and Bluzet have each taken an oar. For a moment
I thought all the boats would be flung against the rocks on the left,
which would have been their complete destruction; but the next I saw
them gradually bearing to the right. At last they were through, all
danger past!
The Aube, swept on by the current, could not stop near the
Davoust, and there was yet another rapid, quite a small one, below
the village. She passed it without difficulty, and went to anchor some
hundred yards down-stream, where we hastened to join her.
We had done with the rapids now, and not one of us was missing,
not one of our boats had been lost. We clasped each other’s hands
without a word.
But our excitement gradually subsided, and we shouted, “Filey,
get us some breakfast; and mind you do your best!”
We started again about two o’clock, and half-an-hour later we
were opposite Leba, where floats the white flag of the Royal Niger
Company, with its ship and the circle cut across by three rays,
bearing the motto, Pax, Jus, Ars. Here we had to meet our last
danger. What would the English do? I awaited them with composure,
for it is we who have the whip hand now, and to begin by showing
them that I was not going to submit to a compulsory halt, we passed
on without stopping at Leba. There was a good deal of bustle at the
station, however, and eleven riflemen came out and took up their
position on the bank. Certainly there was effective occupation here,
not a doubt of it; only every one will admit that no such effective
occupation has taken place higher up-stream. My difficulties at
Bussa may perhaps be renewed here, indeed increased. Lower Auru
is about a mile and three-quarters from Leba. Either the English rule
here or they do not; in the former case, it was they who had told the
natives not to give us any help when two of our boats were in the
greatest danger. In the second case, this effective occupation is very
precarious and limited at the only point where there are any troops,
and for the very best of reasons it does not extend to Bussa, which,
from the European point of view, remains rex nullius.
A tornado compelled us to anchor about four o’clock near the left
bank, and we kept as strict a watch as we had done in the Tuareg
country. We took care to be on our guard against a blow from the
Tatanis, such as had succeeded so well in the case of Mizon.
For the sake of those who have forgotten that incident I will add
here that Mizon was attacked at the mouth of the Niger by Patanis,
when he was entering it in his vessel, the René Caillé. When he
complained, the Niger Company replied: “We were not aware that
you were there.” Those very Patanis, his enemies of the day before,
brought him wood for burning, by order of the English agent.
At about eight o’clock on October 10 we passed Badjibo, or rather
Guadjibo, where Captain Toutée had built Fort Arenberg. After he
had evacuated it the English took possession of it, finding it in
perfect repair. There is no doubt that as the Company already had a
station at Leba, above Guadjibo, the French occupation of the latter
place was open to discussion.
I once started a conversation in a meeting at the Sorbonne, which
at one moment seemed likely to become acrimonious, for I quoted a
remark of Baron d’Haussy, Naval Minister in the time of Charles X.,
as a base of the policy to be followed in dealing with the English. It is
well known that in a talk with the English ambassador, d’Haussy,
irritated at the off-hand manner of the latter, said: “If you want a
diplomatic answer, the President of the Council will give it to you; as
for me, I say, setting aside official language, that nous nous f . . . de
vous.”[11]
The remark was certainly not couched in diplomatic terms, but it
represented the only way to treat the English. When, however, we
act upon the principle applied we must take every care to be well
within our rights. If, through any imprudence at the beginning, you
lay yourself open to have to withdraw a single step later, your rivals
know how to turn it to account by making you go back ten.
The village of Guadjibo is situated on the left bank. Fort Arenberg,
the name of which the Royal Niger Company has changed into
Taubman-Goldie, is opposite to it on the right bank. A guard of
riflemen came to do us the honours of the pass, and then a few
minutes later two canoes put off from the bank to follow us, but we
gained rapidly upon them.
Without having stopped at either of the first two English posts we
reached Geba, having thus asserted our right to navigate the river
without any compulsory halt or any interference on the part of the
Company.
As Geba is approached the scenery becomes more and more
picturesque. Peaks hundreds of feet high dominate the almost
precipitous verdure-clad hills, the bases of which are bathed by the
river.
At last at four o’clock, suddenly rounding a headland, and steering
from west to east, we found ourselves opposite a group of
magnificent jagged rocks, whilst further on we could see the
corrugated roofs and the piles of casks on the bank with the flag of
the Royal Niger Company, belonging to the English station.
 GEBA.

At Geba, as at Auru, the Niger is haunted by evil spirits, who are

fond of red, so instead of advising us to follow the deep but narrow
main channel between the lofty rocks, our guide wanted us to pass
the rapid where the Morning Star, the boat of Richard Lander, the
first explorer who had passed Bussa, had been wrecked.
To the great disappointment of our adviser, however, we insisted
upon going between two large pillars of rock where there was no
danger whatever. The rocks hid all the red on board our boats,
except that in our flag.
Our boats came up one after the other, and anchored off the bank
near the station of Geba.
A negro of Sierra Leone, a commercial agent, now came and
placed himself at our disposal, pending the arrival of the Governor of
the station, who, he informed us, had gone inland, and would not be
back till near nightfall. Naturally I refused all offers of help until the
Governor should return. An hour later we saw two canoes being
paddled down-stream, and recognized them as those which had
followed us since we left Guadjibo. In them were the Governor of the
station, Captain Carrol, and some English soldiers in the service of
the Company.
Having heard at Lakodja, the Governor told us, of our
approaching arrival at Bussa, he had started at once with a strong
escort, and by forced marches had gone up the banks of the river,
knocking up two horses and getting fever, all for the sake of helping
us in the name of the Company, and he had come back after all with
an empty bag! At Leba he had heard of our passage, and had gone
back, covering some seventy miles in twenty-four hours, to Fort
Goldie, where he had waited for us to breakfast with him. Not having
seen any whites there, however, he concluded we had passed, so
that by chance, and chance is responsible for a good many things, it
was I, who had come down from Timbuktu to his station, who
welcomed him at his own post with the words, “How do you do?”
This was really one of the most amusing incidents of our journey.
To a cynical observer the episode would have appeared truly unique.
The situation, amusing as it was, was however just a little
strained. I confess too that with the memory fresh in my mind of all
the difficulties I had had at Bussa and at Ilo, and which might easily
have led to the loss of our boats, I did nothing to relieve the tension
between us.
“Before I talk about anything else,” I said to Carrol, “I must tell you
what happened at Bussa and at Auru, a few miles from your post at
Leba. I will not accept the offers of service from the Company, nor
from its agents, nor from its officers, until I know that you had nothing
to do with those difficulties.”
Quite upset by what I said, he gave me his word, the word of a
soldier, that he knew absolutely nothing about them. The same
assurance was given to me later by Major Festing, military
Commandant, and by the civilians Messrs. Drew and Wallace.
The ice was now broken, and we were able inter pocula to allow
ourselves the pleasure of chatting about European affairs with the
Governor. He was the first European we had seen for a year. Ah, if
only he had been a Frenchman!
Carrol was an Irishman, who spoke French well, and he lent us
some English and French newspapers. He told us—without any
details however—of the death of Mores, and of the massacre of a
French expedition in the west on the Nikki side. We at once
compared dates. This expedition consisted perhaps of our comrades
sent to bring us the famous orders we had waited for at Say for five
months. On hearing this sad news, I became eager to hasten our
march to tell the people at Dahomey of the disturbed condition of the
districts round Say. Later, Taburet was able to ascertain by carefully
reading the English newspapers, that the expedition referred to was
that led by Fonssagrives.
Captain Carrol, who was really a very good fellow and a capital
companion, put everything he possessed at our disposal, and that
meant a very great deal to us, though really he did not own much, for
though the Royal Niger Company houses its officers well, it treats
them shabbily, and makes them pay dearly for the few comforts they
have.
We responded to Carrol’s hospitality by inviting him to dinner the
next evening. Fortunately the chief of Ilo had not drunk all our
champagne. We had plenty too of the wine we had brought as part
of our rations, which in the course of all its travels had become very
good claret, and with some mutton, for which of course we paid very
dearly on principle, we managed to give our guests a very
respectable meal. The English officers were a good deal surprised at
finding us so well supplied with everything.
We were taking our coffee after dinner when we heard the whistle
of one of the Company’s steamers. They were expecting the Sudan,
I was told, an old cargo-boat which was to take Mr. Drew, executive
officer of the district of Geba, to Lakodja. It turned out, however, not
to have been the Sudan’s whistle, but that of a mere launch called
the Bargu, which had disturbed us.
Carrol sent word to Major Festing, who was on board, by a canoe,
and a few minutes afterwards the military Commandant appeared in
immaculate linen clothes, the evening dress of the colonies. We
drank a glass of champagne together, the officer, who seemed very
worried, tossing it off rapidly. As Carrol had done, he declared he
had had nothing whatever to do with the Bussa affair, and I readily
believed him. I still, however, felt some distrust of the agents of the
Company, and I thought it my duty to decline the offer of Major
Festing to tow our boats with his Bargu as far as Lokodja. I thought I
had better first have an explanation with the agents of the Company
properly so called. I was told that Mr. Wallace, the general agent,
was expected soon, and as he was on his way up the river, we were
sure to meet him.
Still this did not prevent our fraternizing with Carrol and Festing;
they spoke French, and we could jabber English after a fashion,
though Taburet was the only one who knew it pretty well. In the
morning two other officers arrived, one to replace, at Leba, a
lieutenant who had lately died, and the other on his way to Geba or
Guadjibo. Both had recently been wounded with poisoned arrows in
a fight with the natives. The officers of the Royal Niger Company
evidently have rather a rough time of it.
Taburet went to see the sick at the station, where there were
neither medicine nor other remedies to be had. Just as we were
leaving we saw some negroes approaching, loaded with a supply of
beer and whisky for us. This delicate attention from Festing and
Carrol was the better appreciated as we had been entirely deprived
of these luxuries ever since we had left Kayes.
As a return gift we left the little organ at Geba, which had been
our great joy at Say. It now belongs to Carrol’s successor, for we
hear that the good Captain has returned safe and sound to his native
country, rescued at last from the hands of the Royal Niger Company.
At about one o’clock in the afternoon of the 12th we left Geba,
exchanging salutes with our flags with the station. Our old guide
Amadu remained there, but Major Festing lent us a man in the
service of the Company, who was, however, quite useless to us, as
navigation here, difficult enough for large vessels, was perfectly easy
for us now the water was so high. We had but to let ourselves go,
and we went fast enough.
We reached Rabba, which seemed an unimportant factory, about
five o’clock. This is the nearest point to Bidda, the capital of Nupé,
which we knew to be at open war with the Company.
There are no whites at the factory of Rabba, and we did not have
any dealings with the Sierra Leonese who is in charge of it.
We had been anchored for an hour, when the steam launch
Bargu, with Major Festing on board, joined us. These launches, of
which it is a pity there are not more on the Niger, are little steamers
armed with a machine-gun. They carry an officer and some ten
riflemen, who act as the river police only, and have nothing to do with
transporting merchandise. Their office is by no means a sinecure.

RABBA.

The voyage began to tell very much on our men now. It was not
only that they were very tired, but the rain was continuous all night,
and sometimes also in the day, so that we had to put up the tents on