The Golden Pool : a Story of a Forgotten Mine
Copyright© 2024 by R. Austin Freeman
I Hear Strange Stories and Vague Rumours
Of the details of my life during the time that I remained in charge of the store it is not my intention to speak, for, although every day brought with it some new incident which interested me then as it does now to recall, yet few of the events of my busy and laborious life had any relation to those subsequent adventures and strange occurrences which it is the purpose of this narrative to describe.
I shall therefore content myself by giving a brief account of my manner of life at Quittáh, and of the one or two events that determined my subsequent destiny.
When I first took charge of the store, being ignorant alike of all the native languages and of the value of both the trade goods that I sold and the produce that I was to buy, the Captain secured for me the assistance of Vanderpuye, who, although a Fanti by birth, had been settled many years in Quittáh. But in a week I was able to manage the business alone, or, at least, with the aid of one native assistant only.
It was a curious life, less distasteful than I had expected, but very hard work, for I had to be in the store soon after daybreak and remained until near sunset, with only a short interval at midday.
I would earnestly recommend any explorer who wishes to attain to an intimate knowledge of the people amongst whom he is dwelling, to open a store and trade with them, for by so doing he will obtain an acquaintance with their language, appearance, dress, habits, tastes, disposition, and the natural productions of their country, which it is practically impossible to reach under any other circumstances. To the trader, as to one engaged in a rational and intelligible pursuit, the native exhibits himself as he is, without any more reserve or deception than the particular transaction seems to require, while to the professed explorer he shows himself full of suspicion and perversity. The mere pursuit of knowledge he neither understands nor believes in, but attributes to the investigator some hidden and sinister motive for his inquiries; whereas the actions and objects of the trader, differing in nowise from those of native merchants, are perfectly comprehensible to him. Hence the trader is treated by the native with a frank familiarity in great contrast to the cautious reserve that is exhibited towards the traveller, the official or the missionary.
It thus happened that, before I had been ashore a month, I had begun to get some insight into the manners and customs of the negro as applied to commerce. My natural facility in picking up languages, too, to which I have already referred, stood me in good stead, for I soon acquired a quite useful collection of phrases in the local dialects, particularly in the barbarous and unmusical Efé language which was spoken around Quittáh, and the hardly more euphonious Adángme of the people who came from beyond the Volta River.
I also began to learn, but in a more systematic manner, the simpler and really melodious language of Hausa, of which Pereira had on his shelves a dictionary and some selections by Dr. Schön. This was indeed less useful than the local tongues, but I was not without the means of exercising it, for it was spoken by the native troops, or Hausa constabulary, who were constantly making small purchases at the store, and by the itinerant merchants from the interior, whose visits were somewhat rare, but who, when they did come, were rather extensive buyers.
It was from one of these travelling merchants that I received the first of the series of impulses that finally sent me wandering into the unknown interior. This man, a Hausa named Amádu Dandaúra, arrived at Quittáh when I had been there about two months, in company with his two sons and a small caravan of slaves.
He was a man of some substance, and as he came day after day to purchase goods for the markets of the interior, I used to have a mat spread for him in the store, on which he would sit and make his purchases in the leisurely, chaffering manner so characteristic of the native trader.
But it was impossible to keep his attention fixed on business matters, for, being a perfectly indefatigable talker and having apparently had many strange adventures, he used to collect quite a considerable audience of his countrymen from the Fort and the lines to listen to his spirited narrations. While he was discoursing in this manner I would often, if I had leisure, lounge hard by and listen, trying to follow the conversation but never succeeding, for, not only was my acquaintance with the language insufficient, but, as I presently discovered, neither Amádu nor the soldiers pronounced the words as they were spelt in my books.
But although unable to make out the matter of Amádu’s discourse, I succeeded in picking out one or two phrases, which, as they often recurred and were received by the listeners with a great show of surprise, I conjectured to be an important part of the merchant’s story.
One of these phrases was “Matári ‘n seliki” or “King’s treasure house”; another was “Makáfi dayáwa,” “a number of blind men.” When I had with some difficulty translated these phrases and committed to memory some detached words which seemed to be the names of places—such as Diádasu, Tánosu, Insúta, and Kumási—I had learned all that I was destined to learn of Amádu’s story, for my assistant, Daniel Kudjo, spoke not a word of Hausa, and few of the Hausas spoke more than half a dozen words of English; and thus my curiosity, which had been strongly aroused by these mysterious phrases, had to remain unsatisfied.
But a curious light was thrown on the subject by Pereira in the course of a conversation that I had with him one evening.
It was my invariable custom at this time, on returning home from the store, heated and fatigued with the endless weighing of rubber, kernels and copra, and measuring of countless demijohns of palm oil in the glaring compound, or rummaging amongst the bales and cases in the store, to spend the long evenings, after my bath and dinner, lolling in a great chair, pipe in mouth, while the old gentleman reclined in a hammock and entertained me with his reminiscences of life in West Africa.
We were talking on this occasion about the Ashanti war, then just concluded, and were discussing the indemnity of sixty thousand ounces of gold claimed by the British Government.
“It seems an enormous sum,” I remarked. “Nearly two hundred and forty thousand pounds. One would not expect the king of a barbarous tribe like the Ashantis to possess such a reserve of wealth as that.”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.