I Make a Curious Discovery

When I came to review my situation as I raked together the almost extinct embers of last night’s fire, and coaxed them into life with dry twigs and charred fragments, I could not but be dismayed at the difficulties and perils with which I was surrounded.

Here I was, alone in the wilderness, without a morsel of provisions, totally ignorant of the locality, quite unacquainted with the speech of the forest peoples, and with but a hazy idea of the direction in which I should turn my steps. True, I knew that far away to the south lay the Gulf of Guinea and the European settlements; but between me and the coast lay the whole width of the forest and the kingdom of Ashanti.

I might perhaps succeed in making intelligible to the forest villagers an inquiry as to the way to Cape Coast, but my judgment urged me to give all villages a wide berth in my solitary and unprotected condition. Then I might—taking the sun and stars as my guide—strike due south, when sooner or later I must reach the sea—if I were allowed to pass unmolested; but my experience of the treatment of solitary strangers was far from reassuring, while the stories I had heard of the sacrificial customs of Ashanti—stories that I had largely verified—made a journey through that country seem a forlorn hope indeed.

On the other hand I might, of course, retrace my steps, and endeavour to overtake Musa and his people; but this would be to renew and extend my wanderings into the interior of the continent, of which I was by this time heartily sick. Besides, my mission was accomplished; I had found the treasure and tested the truth of the narrative in Captain Hogg’s journal, and now I yearned for the sight of a white face, longed to hear the voices of my friends, and to be among people of my own race.

No! However great the dangers, and however many the obstacles, the passage of the forest must be made. The sea was my goal, and I must keep my face resolutely towards the south. But how to reach the sea was a problem that I found myself utterly unable to solve. In the deepest perplexity I turned over the various alternatives that presented themselves without hitting upon any feasible plan of action. The obvious thing, however, being that I must obtain food without delay, and the river furnishing the only means of my doing so, I took my way thither, pursuing my reflections as I went.

Having found a comparatively deep pool some distance below the rapid, I baited my hooks, and flinging them into the water, sat down on the bank to wait for a bite.

Angling has been described by its immortal exponent as “the contemplative man’s recreation.” Its contemplative character is perhaps apt to be interfered with if the possible catch stands between the angler and starvation; nevertheless, as I sat and watched my hooks, I found myself again picturing in detail the various possibilities of the immediate future. I saw myself, without fire or shelter, slowly starving to death in the wilderness; or, once more bound and captive, borne off to grace some funeral sacrifice at Kumasi or some infernal fetish rites in a forest village. Perhaps I might encounter another slave caravan, or be murdered by wandering natives, or devoured, whilst sleeping, by wild beasts. These things were all possible, and not so very improbable.

I was pursuing my meditations in this cheerful fashion when my attention was arrested by a small object that was floating slowly past. It was an empty Achatina shell, buoyed up by a bubble of air in the spire; and as it drifted along on the surface of the quiet, clear water, turning round and round or bobbing up suddenly when some inquisitive fish smelled at it, I found myself watching it with a strange wistfulness, and speculating upon its destination and the incidents of its voyage.

Down the river, ever downwards, it would pursue its noiseless journey; through the lonely forest, past noisy waterside towns and villages; hurrying through blustering rapids, lingering in silent pools, turning in many an eddy and backwater; on, till the river grew broad and the crocodiles basked on the bank; on, till it met the mangrove, and heard the roaring of the bar; and so out into the dancing waters of the ocean where the dolphins were at play, and the great ships spread their sails in the sunshine.

The shell drifted out of sight, and I sighed disconsolately. Where should I be when it reached its destination on the surf-beaten shore?

Suddenly there came into my mind a new thought. Why should not I also make the river my highway? It led to the sea, I knew. Why should I not make myself some raft or coracle and drift down the stream, too, like the infant Moses or the Lady of Shalott? I grinned sardonically at the whimsical idea—and yet it was less impracticable than any other plan that I could think of. Indeed, the more I thought about it the more did it commend itself to me, and my imagination soon began to fill in details of the scheme. The river would not only be my guide to the sea; it would carry me without fatigue on my part, and furnish me with food—for I could fish as I went. Then the approaching rains, which would flood the forest lands and make the roads impassable, would fill the river and make it safer by covering rapids and shallows. Finally, I could build a little shelter on my coracle, and thus take my house with me, and so could even travel in the heavy rain, when walking would be impossible.

So strongly did the idea begin to take hold of me, that my excitement made me restless, and as I had now caught two fish, and was secure from immediate starvation, I arose, and winding up my lines, began to wade through the shallows, searching the banks for a suitable place to take up my abode in while the coracle was being made.

The river was, as I have said, but a small stream, formed by the confluence of a number of tiny brooks; but its banks rose pretty steeply for fully seven feet above its present level, showing that in the rains it carried a large body of water. I had wandered down nearly half a mile when I found the banks receding on either side as the river grew rapidly wider, and then the stream appeared to divide into two. At first I supposed that a tributary had entered it, but on going to the fork and observing that the water flowed down each side, I perceived that the river had really divided, and I had no doubt that the central portion of land was an island. In order to ascertain if this was the case I took the left-hand division, scanning the banks closely as I went, and as I proceeded the stream continued to widen out, forming a lake-like expanse, the appearance of which impressed me with a strange sense of familiarity. Presently I set my foot upon a hard, smooth body, the feel of which I knew at once. It was an affaní, and as I picked the mollusc up and dropped it into my wicker bag, the chain of association was complete. I felt certain that this was the very place where Bukári Moshi and I had crossed with the bags of gold upon our heads.