CHAPTER V

THE DISCOVERY OF NORTHERN NIGERIA

The nineteenth century will ever be memorable for the exploration of the interior of the African Continent. It is difficult to realise when we read in the daily newspapers of steamers plying upon Tanganyika, ocean steamers of 4000 tons burthen ploughing their way through the brown waters of the Lower Congo, gun-boats patrolling the Niger, railways piercing alike the deserts of the Eastern Sudan and the forests of Equatoria, telegraphs extending in a network of lines across the Western Sudan and athwart the Great Central Lakes—it seems difficult, I say, when we read of these things to remember that at the close of the eighteenth century the interior of Africa was to all intents and purposes a blank, and that, even within the memory of most of us, the extent of geographical knowledge we possessed respecting vast regions many times larger than European Russia had made no progress since the days of Herodotus and Pliny. What a colossal work it has been, this solving of riddles which had baffled the world for ages upon ages! What prodigies of labour, of courage, of self-abnegation have been required to triumph over the obstacles which nature and man united in opposing to the early pioneers of African research! How many splendid lives have been immolated upon the altar of the African Moloch!

Notwithstanding the remarkable progress in medical science and hygiene, and the potentialities of the modern rifle as a weapon of defence against the attack of man and beast, the difficulties of the African traveller at the present day are sufficiently great. Deadly maladies beset him on every side, and the chance of coming to a sudden and violent end is ever present. But these difficulties are as dust in the balance compared with the sufferings and privations which the first explorers of unknown Africa had to endure. Think of Park, and picture to yourself the position of a lonely European wandering about inland Western Africa in a thick blue fustian coat, with gilt buttons, keeping his precious notes in the crown of a top-hat, and kicked, buffeted, spat upon, treated with contumely and scorn, subjected to every possible insult, over and again a slave, exposed for hours at a time in a burning sun without water, often on the verge of starvation, racked by disease, and in so miserable a plight upon many occasions that death would have been a welcome relief—yet triumphing over everything and finally returning, notes and all, to his own land. Park’s experiences naturally occur to one in relation to the subject which it is proposed to treat in this chapter, because Park was the real discoverer of the Niger, which had been known in a vague manner to the ancients, and also to the Arabs (who, however, wrongly ascribed to it a westerly course, and identified it with the Nile),[26] and laid the foundation of that remarkable series of explorations which ultimately ended in Lander’s supreme success.

In 1805 Park set out once more on his second and fatal journey, with the firm conviction that he would be able to prove to the world the accuracy of his own theory, viz. that the Niger and the Congo were one and the same. The peripatetics of that eventful voyage are known to every student of Africa. After incredible hardships, Park managed to descend the Niger as far as Bussa. There, in sight almost of the goal of his ambitions he perished, victim of a cruel fate, which drove his boat upon those treacherous rocks, since celebrated for having brought two Christian nations to the brink of war. There are aspects of Park’s character which leave something to be desired, but his defects are lost sight of in the magnificence of his courage, his indomitable will, and the never-failing optimism with which he pursued his task, undeterred by disappointment and unshaken by adversity. As an example of human perseverance and fortitude carried to its highest limits, Park probably holds an unique position among African explorers.

Park’s tragic end increased the desire of Englishmen to solve the mystery of the Niger’s course, and in 1816 the British Government organised a dual expedition on a large scale for this purpose. One section, under Captain Tuckey, ascended the Congo, and the other, under Major Peddie, endeavoured to reach the Niger by a more southerly route than that adopted by Park, the idea being that both sections would ultimately meet somewhere in Central Africa. How fantastic was the scheme does not need to be pointed out, but it must be remembered that in those days the consensus of learned opinion favoured Park’s theory of identification concerning the Niger and the Congo. The expedition was an utter failure. The Niger section excited the resentment of the natives, and had to return after losing its chief. Captain Tuckey ascended the Congo as far as the first cataracts, which had baffled the Portuguese for 200 years, and then leaving the River, pushed North, along what used to be the old caravan route, to the Upper River, now covered by the Matadi-Stanleyville railway, constructed by Colonel Thys. He managed to strike the Upper River in the neighbourhood of the modern Leopoldville, but the trying landmarch had played havoc with his followers. Sickness broke out, and finally the expedition had to return with a loss of 75 per cent. of its European members. Several lesser attempts followed. They all ended disastrously, and it seemed as though the Dark Continent refused to yield up its secrets. But Englishmen were not to be beaten. The Western route was indeed given up as impracticable for a time, but what could not be accomplished from the West might be achieved from the North. True, the Desert had to be faced and traversed. But where the Phœnician and the Roman had dared and done, the Englishman might surely follow. The Desert had not balked the Sectaries of Mohammed, and long caravans, conducted by Tripolitan merchants, yearly made their way across those dreary solitudes. Why should not a party of Englishmen attach themselves to one of these caravans, and, protected by the influence of the British Government, armed with the authority of the Pasha of Tripoli, succeed in reaching the fertile countries of the South, whence rich supplies of ostrich feathers, skins, ivory, gold dust, and slaves found their way to the ports of the Northern littoral?

[Illustration: SKETCH OF THE NORTHERN PART OF AFRICA]

For many years the African Association had been collecting materials with a view to a possible penetration by the Northern route. Once the idea found favour with the authorities, Mr. Lucas was despatched by the Association to Tripoli. He did very little in the way of exploration, but brought back many interesting facts confirming Leo Africanus’ description in respect to the existence of flourishing kingdoms far away to the South, where arts and crafts had attained a high degree of development. Ritchie and Lyon followed Lucas. Lyon managed to reach the southernmost limits of Fezzan, on the borders of the Desert.[27] The Desert itself remained uncrossed, however, and the mystery of the Niger still unsolved. Then it was that the British Government determined to make a great effort to solve the problem, and fitted out an expedition, which did not, it is true, fulfil all that was expected of it, but which succeeded, nevertheless, in throwing a vivid light upon unknown Central Africa, and in disclosing to an astonished world the remarkable civilisation which, under Arab, Berber, and Fulani influence, had arisen in the heart of that black “Sudan” the “land of infidels,” and in popular conception,

“Of the cannibals that each other eat, The anthropophagi, and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders.”

And so the subjects of this sketch enter upon the scene—three men, Clapperton, Denham and Oudney, none of them perhaps conspicuous for ability, or qualified to make the most of their discoveries, yet animated all three with the ardent love of adventure for which their race has ever been famous, and whose united exertions enabled Western Europe to estimate the political and social conditions prevailing in the richest, most populated, most fertile, and undoubtedly most interesting portion of the Dark Continent. It is peculiarly fitting that the region which these Englishmen were the first Europeans to visit, and which we now designate by the name of Northern Nigeria, should have been ultimately incorporated with the British West African Empire by the foresight of another Englishman, Sir George Taubman Goldie, and the diplomatic ability of the gallant Joseph Thomson. A word now as to the three companions. Of Denham and Oudney, we know little beyond what can be gathered from their own writings; Oudney was a medical man, and Denham held the rank of Major in the army. Oudney was the real leader of the expedition, with which he had been entrusted by Earl Bathurst, then Secretary of State for the Colonies; but his untimely death had the result of depreciating the part which he personally played during its first two years’ work. Clapperton has written of him that he was “A man of unassuming deportment, pleasing manners, steadfast perseverance and undaunted enterprise; while his mind was fraught at once with knowledge, virtue and religion.” Major Denham’s action in joining a raiding party into Mandara (Eastern Bornu) has somewhat tarnished his reputation, in my humble opinion very unjustly, although it is quite true that his action in this respect was the cause of serious embarrassment to Clapperton later on. In criticising Denham’s conduct on this occasion, we must bear in mind in the first place that the Empire of Bornu, at that period, owing to various dynastic revolutions, and to the pressure of its powerful enemies on the East—Baghirmi and Wadai—was in a state of more or less constant warfare both within and without, and that warlike expeditions were constantly taking place, faction fighting against faction and tribe against tribe, warfare being in fact a more or less permanent institution in the social life of the country. And in the second place, we must also recollect that the members of the expedition had been instructed to examine and report upon all the various phases of life in the countries which they might traverse. Now it was impossible for Denham to obtain a thorough knowledge of the habits of the people without personally investigating the manner in which they waged war upon their neighbours. Apart, therefore, from the natural predilections of his soldierly instincts, which would lead him to find particular interest in matters of this kind, it may be assumed that Denham considered it his duty to act as he did. Years afterwards, Barth found himself in much the same predicament. As it happened, the adventure nearly cost Denham his life. The raided proved too strong for the raiders, and, assisted by the Fulani cavalry, completely defeated the latter. Denham’s escape was a marvellous one. He lost everything, and was wounded in three places.

An account of Clapperton’s life is contributed by Lieut.-Colonel Clapperton in the preface to Clapperton and Lander’s journal of the second expedition to Sokoto, published by Murray in 1829. Hugh Clapperton was born in Dumfriesshire in 1788. At the age of thirteen he went to sea as an apprentice, and subsequently entered the Royal Navy. He served in the _Renommée_ and _Venerable_, and visited the East Indies. He then went to the Canadian Lakes, and participated in the American War of Independence. In 1816 he got his commission. A year later the British vessels on the Canadian Lakes were paid off and laid up, and Clapperton returned to England on half-pay. In 1820 he met Dr. Oudney in Edinburgh, and struck up a friendship which resulted in his accompanying the latter to Africa. Of intellectual attainments he had none, but he was large-hearted, generous, and tolerant; courageous in the extreme, gifted with an iron constitution, and of great physical strength. So much for the personal characteristics of the trio. We may now examine the nature of their work. The narrative of the expedition in which all three took part is chiefly contributed by Denham. While Denham was compiling their joint notes, Clapperton started for Africa again, and reached Sokoto from Badagry on the West Coast. The story of Clapperton’s second journey was written by himself, and afterwards published by his faithful servant Richard Lander, who was destined ultimately to follow the Niger down to the sea, thus finally solving the great problem in the attempted elucidation of which Park, Tucker, Clapperton and many others perished.

The primary, and in many respects the main, obstacle which had to be overcome by Oudney and his companions, was the crossing of that portion of the Sahara which lies between Murzuk and Bornu, and which, to use Denham’s words, “Is made up of dark frowning hills of naked rock, in interminable plains, strewed in some places with fragments of stone and pebbles, in others of one vast level surface of sand, and in others, again, the same material rising into immense mounds, altering their form and position according to the strength and direction of the winds.” Caravan routes across the desert had existed for many centuries, and the commerce of the Central Sudan, with the parts of North Africa, was still an important one. The route which the travellers hoped to take, in company with a party of merchants, was the shortest and safest one, that which starting from Tripoli passes through Murzuk and Bilma to Kuka, then the capital of Bornu, situated on the shores of Lake Chad. The expedition arrived at Tripoli in November 1821, but did not reach Murzuk, capital of Fezzan, until the 8th April 1822. Here the Englishmen met with such a discouraging reception from the Sultan that on the 12th May, finding no chance of making any progress whatever, Major Denham started back to Tripoli to interview the Pasha, by whom the British Government had been promised every possible assistance. The Pasha proving as lethargic as his prototype at Murzuk, Denham left Tripoli in a white heat of indignation to report his conduct to the British Government. This did not suit the Pasha at all, and he sent three despatches after the irate Englishman begging him to return, as he had arranged for an escort to accompany the expedition to Bornu. The despatches reached Denham while the boat he had taken passage in was quarantined outside Marseilles, and he forthwith set sail once more for the Barbary shore. On the 29th November 1822, or a year after landing at Tripoli, the expedition left Murzuk, and set out upon its way to Bornu under the guidance of Bu-Kalum, a merchant of repute, much enamoured of pomp and show, and not over energetic in his movements. Within a few weeks’ march from Murzuk the members of the expedition were able to appreciate all the horrors of the trans-Desert slave trade in the sight of “more than 100 skeletons, scattered over the line of route, some of them with the skin attached to the bones.”

On the 13th January they reached Bilma, famous for its salt pans, and on February 4th the discomforts they had endured in the desert received ample compensation by a view of “the great Lake Chad, glowing with the golden rays of the sun in its strength.” The natural emotion of the travellers is thus expressed by Denham, whose descriptions in the general way certainly do not incline to the picturesque:

“It conveyed to my mind,” he writes, “a sensation so gratifying and inspiring that it would be difficult for language to convey an idea of its force and pleasure.... My heart bounded within me at the prospect, for I believe this lake to be the key to the great object of our search, and I could not refrain from silently imploring heaven’s continued protection, which had enabled us to proceed so far in health and strength, even to the accomplishment of our task.”