I Saw They Were Fans, As Indeed Nearly All The
Crew Were, But I Did Not Think Much Of The Affair.
Our tender, the
small canoe, had been sent out as usual with the big black man and
another A. B. to fish; it being one of our industries to fish hard
all the time with that big net.
The fish caught, sometimes a bushel
or two at a time, almost all grey mullet, were then brought
alongside, split open, and cleaned. We then had all round as many
of them for supper as we wanted, the rest we hung on strings over
our fire, more or less insufficiently smoking them to prevent
decomposition, it being Obanjo's intention to sell them when he made
his next trip up the 'Como; for the latter being less rich in fish
than the Rembwe they would command a good price there. We always
had our eye on things like this, being, I proudly remark, none of
your gilded floating hotel of a ferry-boat like those Cunard or
White Star liners are, but just a good trader that was not ashamed
to pay, and not afraid of work.
Well, just after we had leisurely entered a new reach of the river,
round the corner after us, propelled at a phenomenal pace, came our
fishing canoe, which we had left behind to haul in the net and then
rejoin us. The occupants, particularly the big black A. B., were
shouting something in terror stricken accents. "What?" says Obanjo
springing to his feet. "The Fan! the Fan!" shouted the canoe men as
they shot towards us like agitated chickens making for their hen.
In another moment they were alongside and tumbling over our gunwale
into the bottom of the vessel still crying "The Fan! The Fan! The
Fan!" Obanjo then by means of energetic questioning externally
applied, and accompanied by florid language that cast a rose pink
glow smelling of sulphur, round us, elicited the information that
about 40,000 Fans, armed with knives and guns, were coming down the
Rembwe with intent to kill and slay us, and might be expected to
arrive within the next half wink. On hearing this, the whole of our
gallant crew took up masterly recumbent positions in the bottom of
our vessel and turned gray round the lips. But Obanjo rose to the
situation like ten lions. "Take the rudder," he shouted to me,
"take her into the middle of the stream and keep the sail full." It
occurred to me that perhaps a position underneath the bamboo staging
might be more healthy than one on the top of it, exposed to every
microbe of a bit of old iron and what not and a half that according
to native testimony would shortly be frisking through the atmosphere
from those Fan guns; and moreover I had not forgotten having been
previously shot in a somewhat similar situation, though in better
company. However I did not say anything; neither, between
ourselves, did I somehow believe in those Fans. So regardless of
danger, I grasped the helm, and sent our gallant craft flying before
the breeze down the bosom of the great wild river (that's the proper
way to put it, but in the interests of science it may be translated
into crawling towards the middle). Meanwhile Obanjo performed
prodigies of valour all over the place. He triced up the mainsail,
stirred up his fainthearted crew, and got out the sweeps, i.e. one
old oar and four paddles, and with this assistance we solemnly
trudged away from danger at a pace that nothing slower than a Thames
dumb barge, going against stream, could possibly overhaul. Still we
did not feel safe, and I suggested to Ngouta he should rise up and
help; but he declined, stating he was a married man. Obanjo
cheering the paddlers with inspiriting words sprang with the agility
of a leopard on to the bamboo staging aft, standing there with his
gun ready loaded and cocked to face the coming foe, looking like a
statue put up to himself at the public expense. The worst of this
was, however, that while Obanjo's face was to the coming foe, his
back was to the crew, and they forthwith commenced to re-subside
into the bottom of the boat, paddles and all. I, as second in
command, on seeing this, said a few blood-stirring words to them,
and Obanjo sent a few more of great power at them over his shoulder,
and so we kept the paddles going.
Presently from round the corner shot a Fan canoe. It contained a
lady in the bows, weeping and wringing her hands, while another lady
sympathetically howling, paddled it. Obanjo in lurid language
requested to be informed why they were following us. The lady in
the bows said, "My son! my son!" and in a second more three other
canoes shot round the corner full of men with guns. Now this looked
like business, so Obanjo and I looked round to urge our crew to
greater exertions and saw, to our disgust, that the gallant band had
successfully subsided into the bottom of the boat while we had been
eyeing the foe. Obanjo gave me a recipe for getting the sweeps out
again. I did not follow it, but got the job done, for Obanjo could
not take his eye and gun off the leading canoe and the canoes having
crept up to within some twenty yards of us, poured out their simple
tale of woe.
It seemed that one of those miscreant boys was a runaway from a Fan
village. He had been desirous, with the usual enterprise of young
Fans, of seeing the great world that he knew lay down at the mouth
of the river, i.e. Libreville Gaboon. He had pleaded with his
parents for leave to go down and engage in work there, but the said
parents holding the tenderness of his youth unfitted to combat with
Coast Town life and temptation, refused this request, and so the
young rascal had run away without leave and with a canoe, and was
surmised to have joined the well-known Obanjo.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 99 of 190
Words from 100240 to 101274
of 194943
