Close behind the town the forest rose in a dense, gloomy wall. One day I ventured to explore this unknown waste. In half an hour I could not have got more than two hundred yards. The ground was a complete quagmire, and my journeying was from root to root, and leaping on to fallen trunks and branches. A miserable silence was over everything; and around, as far as the eye could reach, stretched the dreary mangrove swamps, dark brownish green foliage above, and a mass of twisted roots rearing their pale stems above the mud and water below. The muddy stream gleamed in the fierce sunlight, while here and there among the trees the white fever mist hung in thin wreaths, of which, if the white man breathe, he shall surely die. Emerging from a narrow tunnel-like waterway under the trees, which I had traversed for the last hour, winding in and out among the mangrove roots, amid the semi-darkness made by the dense foliage overhead, with its stifling, steam-like atmosphere, heavy with the foul smell of putrefying mud and rotting vegetation, I reached drier ground.
The forest was still as dense as ever and there were many curious trees, and low shrubs of graceful palm-like leaves, forming a huge crown over the top of the branches, high palms, with their smooth columnar stems and finely pinnated leaves interlocked above, forming arches and woven canopies of varied shape. Then high above them rose the taller forest trees, whose giant branches formed a second canopy from the sun. Immense creepers clung around them, some stretching obliquely from their summits like mast-stays, others spirally twisted around each other and winding round the trunks like huge serpents ready for their prey. Many of the trees were covered with parasitic plants, and creepers climbing over each other in one vast struggle for existence. Moralists would no doubt liken this scene to the clamorous fight of humanity in the hopeless struggle of man to lift himself to the vague unattainable ideal of life, as shown in the picture of M. Rochegrosse, “Angoisse Humaine,” recently exhibited in the Paris Salon; and their simile would not be out of place.
Looking upward, the finely divided foliage was strongly defined against a cloudless sky. There were few flowers, and the ground was deeply covered with dead leaves and rotten wood, through which low-creeping plants thrust their heads. Here and there huge trunks lay rotting on the ground, forming a playground for hundreds of lively lizards, with red heads and brilliant green tails, which are the prettiest creatures to be seen in the bush, though rather alarming at first, when they dash over your sleeping body, and the thought of a venomous bite crosses your mind. They are, however, perfectly harmless, and though the larger species could inflict a nasty wound, their fangs are not poisonous.
This forest land and the savage inhabitants who dwell in its recesses, amid a chaos of slave-raiding and village-burning, which goes on ceaselessly in the wild country that lies between the north of the European colonies and the little-known Soudan, is indeed a place of weird and interesting memories, and weeks might be spent in exploring the forest and the hinterland beyond, finding fresh interest day by day in the study of the features of the country, both animal and vegetable. A lengthy account of the information that I was able to glean, would hardly be in keeping with this work, which is dealing with the campaign, and not an exploring expedition, scientific or otherwise; but this short description of the flora and fauna seen near Kumassi may be of interest.
Pushing through the forest there were few animals to be seen; occasionally a rustling among the bushes announced some lordly snake on the prowl, or a chatter and cracking overhead denoted that a solemn palaver of monkeys had been disturbed. Then birds there were in plenty, parrots of large size, a few aasvogels or vultures also clattered affrighted through the trees, leaving their meal off some dead creature in the bush. In one place near a narrow streamlet were nests of the passerine weaver birds, some hanging from fine branches along which even the bamboo snake would not have the temerity to crawl in search of the luscious eggs. The nests were composed of twigs and fibre, with a cunningly made exit at the bottom of the carefully-woven chamber. There were many brilliant birds, including gorgeous copper-coloured pigeons, but these had been found lower down the road, where Prince Henry had shot a fine specimen.
After coming off second best in a patch of prickly pear, a cactus which is happily not common in the bush, I suddenly reached swampy ground again, while in places the trees cleared, opening out on large sticky patches of arundineous mud, which would have made a capital ground for sportsmen. The green canes made a refuge for numbers of small animals, and if properly taken in hand, would probably have provided some lord of the forest to add to the spoils. On the outskirts of one of these swamps an animal of the peccary species broke cover, but disappeared with a whisk of his tusks before I had time to pot him. There was soon more sport on hand, for a buzzing hum and a stinging sensation on the cheek localised the swampy haunt of the tsetse fly, which fortunately had not worried us much on the upward march, and had left one or two donkeys that travelled with the force unmolested. My face was soon in a pickle, and in West Africa, where any little bite or cut becomes a festering sore which will not heal, such things are to be dreaded.
The tsetse is much more active than the mosquito. In its flight it moves with such intense rapidity, that the eye cannot follow it, and when it settles it alights so quietly that the victim does not feel it. When it considers itself secure it thrusts in its weapon and sucks the blood. It is only while its needle-like proboscis is embedded in the flesh that the fly can be caught. Even when distended with blood it escapes by a rapid flight sideways. To man the bite is as unpleasant as that of the mosquito; and that is saying a great deal; for anyone who has been forced to give his body as a prey to these little pests knows how painful are the wounds that they inflict. Horses, cows, sheep, asses, and dogs, with other animals useful to man, are destroyed by the tsetse; and so deadly is its poison, that if a cow is only bitten once by a fly it will die of the effects, although wild animals are quite safe. It is on them chiefly that the tsetse feeds, and they are apparently inoculated and do not suffer any evil effects.
Needless to say, the ants also were everywhere apparent, both the cannibal black, who takes a fiendish delight in burrowing his head into your flesh and feasting to his heart's content, and also his vegetarian but more destructive white brother, who chews up every article of clothing or equipment he can lay his jaws on. In the rainy season the young ants, who have wings, rise in the air, but they return to mother earth as soon as dry weather sets in and the wings then drop off. It is said that so prolific are they, that a single female deposits as many as fifteen thousand eggs in twenty-four hours. Many an African traveller has had to fall back upon a colony of white ants for food. Hunger is a good sauce, and the creatures are collected, and a handful or two thrown into a fry-pan with a little fat, and though I did not try this tempting dish, they are said to be just passable, will keep a long time, and can be easily prepared. Of course, in size the insects are like young shrimps; to the English idea of ants, cooking them would seem impossible.
Another African insect that should be mentioned is an enormous spider which the niggers call “Boui.” According to Monsieur Foa, a famous French traveller, the natives pin much faith in the revelations of this curious-looking creature. He was engaged once on a very long chase after elephants, and his followers were becoming impatient, when at last they found the home of one of these spiders. “Now,” said one of his men, “we shall know whether or not we shall find the elephants.”
Monsieur Foa and his men placed themselves in a circle round the hole, but at some distance. In the middle the oldest Negro crouched near the hole and commenced his invocation. “Boui,” he said, “behold for three weeks we have travelled through the woods from dawn till sunset. We can travel no farther, and we have seen no ivory. Tell us: must we return to our village? If such be the case, return quickly into your mansion. But if we shall have ivory and food, come out and take the air.”
At the last words he threw a little water into the hole. Four velvet paws, joined like the fingers of a monkey's hand, showed themselves immediately near the orifice. The men stood in silence, their eyes fixed on the insect. If it withdrew, the Negroes would at once abandon the chase. After a moment's hesitation the yellow velvety spider, as large as a pigeon's egg, came forth. There was no more talk about going back. The Boui had foretold success, and, as results proved, foretold correctly, for they got two fine elephants.
On my return to the town, the natives were cutting down a large patch of elephant grass to clear the environs. Unfortunately, most of the officers were busily engaged preparing for the coast-ward march, as sport in plenty was provided, this grass being full of animals. Several fair-sized pythons also came to light, and were dispatched by the niggers, who so battered the carcases that skinning was out of the question. At intervals, a loud cry would announce the discovery of some fresh animal, chiefly of the wild pig species; but, as a rule, after an exciting chase, the four legged brutes had the best of it, and got clear into the forest. With organised beaters a good day's shooting might have been organised. The only animal of importance killed was a not over-big leopard, which was so battered about the head by the eager natives that it was completely spoiled, the skin falling a trophy to a Sergeant-Major of the Supply, who gave it the first blow with a heavy stick as it ran.