With Wolseley to Kumasi: A Tale of the First Ashanti War

“Trust a man who has been in these forests before to choose the right spot,” said the agent, as he pointed it out. “This is the windward side, and the stockade even under a hot sun is delightfully cool. There is little fever here, and one can cope with it. Mr Dick, you need have no fears for your health. The loneliness is the only thing which will trouble you.”

“I have been thinking about that,” answered Dick, “and I fancy I shall do something to distract my thoughts. Work in the mines or something of the sort. Perhaps help to improve the stockade and make it stronger.”

The agent looked at him in surprise. “Stronger!” he exclaimed. “And why?”

“Because I fancy we might be attacked.”

Our hero felt almost sure that there would be an attempt, for he had not forgotten James Langdon.

“Attack!” he said disdainfully. “The Ashantis will not harm us. They hate these Fanti men, and it is they against whom they war. They are out now with the intention of fighting. Trust King Koffee to keep them away from us, for if we were harmed, what would happen to the payments made to him? As to this fellow, James Langdon, I fancy I have met him. You need not fear him, for he will never come so far. If he is in the service of the king of the Ashantis, he will be on the far bank of the river and miles from here. No, Mr Stapleton, there will be no need to strengthen the post.”

By now they had entered the stockade, and found it to be composed of roughly sawn logs, trimmed with the axe. Here and there a small interval was left for rifles, though it was obvious that the designer of the place expected no trouble. In the centre was a log hut, thatched with long strips of bark, which were pegged down to the timbers beneath. The windows were unglazed, but rough shutters cut from packing boxes were provided.

“Enter, gentlemen,” said the agent, with some signs of pride. “You find yourselves in the salon, the smoking-room, and the bedroom of this house. It is only a rough shanty, sufficient to keep out the heat of the sun, and the rains, when they come.”

“And a fine example of your work,” exclaimed Mr Pepson. “Now, what of the mines? They are close at hand?”

For answer the agent led the way out of the stockade and down the far side of the hill till the party came to the level ground. And here it was seen that a stream flowed, and lost itself a little way on in the forest.

“Everything is nicely within reach,” said the agent. “You will find that the men work in couples, and as there are twelve of them, there are six shafts open. We will go to them.”

They ascended a small rise in front of them, and presently saw some natives working. They were hauling up wooden buckets from the mouths of narrow shafts driven into the ground, and were depositing their contents in a larger receptacle close at hand. At the river-bank Dick noticed a number of troughs of native workmanship, and began to gather the method adopted by the natives in their mining.

“It is all very primitive,” said the agent, “and no doubt we do not abstract all the gold from the soil. A large part gets washed away. Still, considering our methods, we are doing well, and have already a good store of pure metal. Look into one of the shafts. Yes, continue to look till your eyes become accustomed to the darkness down there. That is the man who is working in the tunnel. You can just see his back. He will call out when his bucket is filled, and his friend up here will haul it up. It is slow, but sure, and in time there is a quantity at the top. If the man below comes to harder soil, his friend goes down to the river and washes. If not, he hauls, and at the end of the day the two wash the gold from the soil which they have gathered.”

“But how on earth does the man get down?” asked Dick, for he could see that the hauling tackle was too weak for such a task.

“That again is simplicity itself,” was the reply. “You see that the shaft is barely four feet across. The man carries a kind of narrow spade with which he digs the ground. Well, he places that across the top of the shaft, and lowers his feet till they come to a niche on one wall. There it is. You can see it plainly. With his feet secure he leans back till his shoulders are against the far side of the shaft – in fact, till he is across the cutting in a slanting position. Then he releases the digger and lowers it, placing it in a similar position across the shaft. And so he descends, repeating the movement to the bottom.”

“Primitive, certainly,” agreed Mr Pepson, “and I think it can be improved upon. We have brought hand-winding gear with us, and they will alter matters. The fellow below can lower himself, or get his friend to do so for him. Then the labour of raising the soil will be lightened. That reminds me. We have left our launch and the canoes at the landing-stage. What steps can we take to get our goods here?”

“We will become porters to-morrow,” was the answer. “These Ashanti fellows are good tempered and willing if taken the right way, and you will find that they will undertake the task with pleasure. Leave it to me, sir.”

That night the whole party lay down in the hut within the stockade. On the following day they returned to the river, and with the help of the natives had transferred all their belongings to the hut before darkness fell. But it was a more difficult matter to bring the winding gear through, and almost a week passed before it was in position. By then Dick was beginning to feel that he knew something of the work, and even found that he could make himself understood by the natives.

“I shall have no fears for you when we leave,” said Mr Pepson, one evening as they smoked their pipes outside the hut. “You hit it off well with the natives, and you understand their methods of getting gold. You will store it, check the amounts they obtain, and pay them in gold dust if they require their money. If not, you will show them what they have earned, with the promise that payment will be made at any time. The store of metal you will keep here. Have no fears for it. I don’t believe any one will dare to interfere with you. Now for our movements. I shall wait a little longer till this scalp wound is healed, and then Meinheer, our Dutch agent and I will return to the coast. We shall leave Johnnie and the launch with you, for you will need to send down for stores, and to deposit the gold, and we can return with as much ease by means of one of the boats. Our friend, the agent, tells us that the wind will be set down-stream, and that a sail will carry us to the sea almost as soon as would a propeller. From there to Elmina and Cape Coast Castle is nothing.”

Accordingly, some three weeks later, the party set out, Dick passing with them through the forest to the landing-stage. One by one they shook hands with him and entered the native boat. Meinheer Van Somering swept his hat from his head and gave a deep flourish and bow. Mr Pepson smiled his encouraging smile, while the agent busied himself with the sail.

“Push off!” sang out the leader, and at the shout Dick sent the boat out into the stream. Her head was pointed down towards the river Pra, her sail filled, and within a minute Dick was alone in the forest. His duties had commenced, he was now sole agent for the gold-miners, the only white man in that part of the African forests. He turned on his heel, saw that the launch and the other boats were firmly secured to the bank, and went off with his head in the air, whistling cheerily.

Chapter Seven.

Forewarned is Forearmed

“I don’t like the news, Johnnie,” said our hero, one day, some weeks later, when he had quite settled down to his duties at the mine. “You say you saw some men encamped five miles and more away. Tell me all about them.”

The native lad, an inhabitant of the coast near Sierra Leone, who had come from that part with Mr Pepson, and who had been left to keep Dick company and to tend to the launch, put the short black pipe which he was smoking into the other corner of his mouth, and turned his eyes up till the whites alone showed, a trick of which he was very fond. He was, in fact, a comical-looking fellow. Short and square for a native, with woolly hair, and a few stray wisps of beard at his chin, he was dressed in a much patched pair of breeches, with ragged edges, the tags hanging about his naked toes. These same breeches were suspended from his shoulders by an ancient pair of braces, a gift from Dick himself, while a soiled and disreputable jacket, smeared with many a patch of grease, was over his back, serving for shirt as well as coat. He held a rifle in his hand, and the state of his feet showed that he had just come in from the forest.

“Me go dere, as you say,” he said, taking the pipe from his mouth. “Me look for something to eat, for massa want fresh meat. And then me see smoke. ‘Dat strange,’ say Johnnie. On de coast where me lib noting wrong in dat. Fires eberywhere. Smoke all de time. But here – ”

Again his eyes turned up as if to show that this smoke was a matter for astonishment.

“Exactly so. Here one would feel surprised and alarmed. Go on.”

“Den Johnnie tink, and say, ‘dese surely bad men, not like Johnnie,’ so me start to run ’way. Den me creep back, and soon me see better. Dere ten, tirty, yes, fifty big native, all wid sword and gun, and dey sit round de fire cookin’ and eatin’. Me look for dat scoundrel, dat white man who attack us below. But no, he not dere. Den me come ’way and tell massa.”

It was serious news, and for a long while our hero was silent. For three weeks he had gone about his work at the mine till he was thoroughly acquainted with it. He had been down each one of the shafts, and had ingratiated himself with the men. It happened that in two of the shafts a rich deposit of nuggets had been come upon, not an uncommon find in the goldfields of Ashanti; and that, together with the increased comfort given by the winding gear, all of which was now in place, had so heartened the miners that he was more than popular amongst them. But he was still haunted with the fear of attack.

“There must be people who know that we are here, practically with no means of defence,” he had said over and over again to himself. “And no doubt the news of a rich find will in time be circulated. What is to prevent a ruffian like James Langdon making a raid upon us? I am here, in charge, and I must take steps.”

That same evening he went to the miners when they had come up from the shafts, and told them the news.

“Our brothers are at war. There is nothing in this camp to alarm us or you,” said their leader, when Dick had made himself understood, a somewhat difficult matter, considering his small knowledge of the language. “The Ashantis will not touch us. The Fantis would if they could, for we are weak, and should fall an easy prey to them. But these were Ashantis.”

“And to-morrow a force of Fantis might come, too,” added Dick. “Then what could we do?”

“We should be killed, the gold would be taken, and there would be an end of the matter.”

“Then as I have no wish to be killed, I suggest that we take steps to protect ourselves,” said Dick. “I have rifles at the stockade for all, and will arrange a signal. You say that you can all shoot. That makes matters better. We will practise to-night. There is a tomtom at the stockade, left there by one of yourselves perhaps. I will beat that as the signal, and all will at once rush to the place, bringing their store of gold with them.”

The miners looked at one another when they heard his words, and then commenced to discuss the matter together; for it was difficult for them to understand the need for such precautions. They had been at this mine for some months now, and they had never been disturbed. At the same time rumour had reached them that their countrymen were at war with the Fantis, and that being the case, the latter would treat them as enemies. There was a big store of gold, the result of the last month’s labour, and that would certainly go. They would be killed, too, and even if they were not, they would lose their wages, now owing for some months.

“We will do as you ask,” said their chief, half an hour later. “There may be need for these precautions, and in that case we may have cause to be glad. On the other hand, the time wasted will be only short, and will not matter. What else shall we do?”

“Make for the stockade, as I have said, and when there we will arrange the method of defence,” answered Dick. “Keep your ears open for the signal.”

He left them, and an hour later, having seen Johnnie again in the meanwhile and instructed him to sound the alarm, he retreated to the stockade with the men, waiting till the last to see how they carried out the movement.

“That will do very well,” he said, as they arrived, panting, in the stockade. “Now for other orders. The last man in throws the doors to and is helped by his friends. That is right. We are now safely behind stout walls, and can fetch our rifles. They are kept in this rack in the hut, and a bag of ammunition is hung to the muzzle of each. Let every one go in and help himself, and then run out to the walls.”

He watched as the miners, a group of intelligent men, carried out his orders. Then as they came hustling from the hut, pushing each other aside in their eagerness, he arrested them with a shout and with uplifted hand.

“Some one will be shot very soon,” he said. “Some of you have already loaded, and guns go off sooner than they are wanted to under these circumstances. We must do things in an orderly manner, and each must have an allotted place. Tell your men off to a loophole apiece, chief,” he shouted. “Now, that is better, and we will practise the move again.”

Several times they carried out the exercise, Dick making them emerge from the stockade, and then, at a beat on the tom-tom, rush in, close the gates, and go in search of their rifles. No man was allowed to load till he was at his loophole, and then the order was that there should be no firing unless the enemy were clearly seen.

“We have a fair store of cartridges,” said Dick, “but we may have to stand a siege. That being the case, we must not throw them away. Now let each man pick out a tree or some object, and aim at it. I’ll give the order to fire.”

By now the miners were beginning to take more than a passing interest in these manoeuvres of their young chief. They had been talking the thing over, and had come to the conclusion that it would be worth while to safeguard their own interests. They had been away from their friends for a long time, and it might be that there was a war of considerable proportions raging, for the Ashantis were at daggers drawn with the Fantis, and took every opportunity of attacking them.

At Dick’s call they poured a volley into space, and looked round for more orders.

“That will do very well for to-day. We will practise again every day, and I want to see that the men at the top of the shaft shout the alarm to their friends below and wait to haul them up. There must be no desertion of comrades.”

Dick was as good as his word, too. The following morning, when he had carefully inspected the surroundings, and had seen that the miners were busily at work, he caused Johnnie to sound the alarm again, and stood in the neighbourhood of the shafts till all the men were up. Then the proceedings of the previous evening were repeated.

“That part of our precautions is arranged,” he said to himself, as he smoked a meditative pipe. “Now I must look to another matter. Johnnie and I must take it in turns to go abroad into the forest.”

It was a wise precaution, and from that day, turn and turn about, he or the native stoker, as soon as breakfast was ended, and while the day was still cool, would take a rifle and stalk away towards the forest. Sometimes they would go towards the river, to see that no one had tampered with the launch, and at others they would make in the opposite direction. But whichever road they followed, they were careful not to penetrate too deeply into the jungle, and to take their bearings before entering the bush.

“We might get lost,” said Dick, “and besides, it is really laborious work cutting a path, however narrow. The main thing is to circle all around the mine, looking for traces of a possible enemy, and, of course, shooting any game we may come upon, for fresh meat is a luxury.”

One day, a week later, when our hero was out on his tramp, and had proceeded a couple of miles from the mine, he suddenly came to a halt, and stood there listening intently, for a sound had come to his ear.

“The tom-tom!” he exclaimed. “I feel sure, and from the direction of the stockade. Can the place be attacked?”

The thought threw him into a fever of apprehension, for supposing an enemy had appeared, and his men were within the stockade, what would happen to them without their leader? They were excellent fellows, but Dick had come to know that, without some one to direct them, they were useless.

“They would be all right for an hour or two if not pressed,” he said. “But if they were rushed by a strong force – well, it would go hard with them. I must return. But can it be that that tom-tom was not from the mine?”

That was another momentous question, and, as he pondered over it, the perspiration poured from his forehead. He turned and retraced his steps at a run, breaking through the jungle in his feverish haste, tearing the vines and brambles aside and lacerating his hands and face with the thorns.

Hark! This time it was another sound that brought him to a standstill. There was the clear, crisp report of a rifle, a distant shout, and then a medley of sounds, the frantic cries of natives, and the sharp snap of answering firearms.

The place, then, was attacked. There could be no doubt about the matter. And he, the leader, was outside the stockade. Dick clenched his hands and ground his teeth with disappointment. He had no fear for himself. He thought last of his own personal safety. A duty had been entrusted to him. He had been placed at the mine to defend it, and he was helpless to direct the men.

“They must hold their own, then,” he gasped. “I cannot get to them yet, and they cannot know where I am. Very well, I will go where I can see what is happening, and then I must be guided by circumstances.”

This time he did not rush through the jungle with such frantic haste. His impetuosity had given way to prudence, and, as he walked, he peered ahead, halting every now and again to make sure that he was not running upon the enemy. As he approached the clearing about the mine the snap of rifles became more audible. It was a spluttering fire now, an occasional shot, and then a succession of reports.

“That is what I like to hear,” he said to himself. “It shows that they are not so closely pressed, and I think that they must be holding their own. If my men were being rushed there would be shouts, and rifles would be fired more frequently. Ah, it is getting lighter, and soon I shall be able to see.”

He crept on all fours now, and presently came to the very edge of the jungle. But from where he was he could only see a fraction of the stockade, and not a soul was in sight. To obtain a full view he must creep round to the far side, where the attack was taking place.

“No doubt they have their camp there,” he thought, “so I must be doubly careful. I’ll slip into the trees again and go cautiously.”

Well was it for him, too, that he took this precaution, for he had progressed only a little way when his keen eye caught sight of some natives out in the open. They carried rifles, and were making for the mines. Ditch watched them as they went to the shafts, and saw two of their number lowered into each. Then there was a shout, and they were hauled up again.

“Looking for possible stragglers,” he thought. “It was a lucky idea to have a signal to recall the men. I suppose Johnnie must have sounded it. Ah, the ruffians are now looking for gold, but there again I fancy they will be disappointed. How I wish I had a dozen men here! I could pick the enemy off easily, and then a rush might drive the rest away.”

By now the natives were retracing their steps, disappointed at their lack of fortune, and at once Dick crawled on again. An hour later he was round at the far side, and had a full view of all that was taking place. A glance showed him that matters were as he had hoped. The timely alarm, the previous training, and the careful instruction which had been given to the miners had resulted in their reaching the stockade in a mass, and in closing the doors on the attackers. Nor were there wanting signs that they had made their presence felt by the enemy, for ten dark figures lay sprawling in the open, some looking as though the men slept, while in other cases the bodies were doubled up in that fantastic position which is seen where men have been killed in the act of charging.

“Showing that our friends held their fire till they were sure of their aim,” said Dick, with a chuckle, his spirits reviving immensely at the sight. “But the attack was a genuine one, for I can see one man close outside the stockade. Perhaps the alarm was only just given in time, and when the miners reached the stockade the enemy were in full chase and close behind them. Ah! They have been making long shots, too.”

His hand went to his trigger suddenly, and he fell on his face in the undergrowth, for he had caught sight of a native some few paces away. He seemed to be leaning against a tree, and was partly in the open. A second glance, however, told that he was dead, for his head lay on his breast, and only the tree which supported him prevented his falling from his knees.

“Looks as though he had knelt to take a shot, and had been killed in the act,” thought Dick. “He will be fired at again, perhaps. One of our men will see him, and not knowing that he has already ceased to be an enemy will fire. It would be safer for me to crawl on a little.”

Once more he sneaked through the forest, his senses all alert, for now, at any moment, he might come full upon the enemy. Suddenly he heard voices, and at the sound crouched on his face. Then there came the rustle of vines and leaves, the soft tread of naked feet, and the dull blow of something harder striking the trunk of a tree. The voices grew louder, and, to Dick’s consternation, they seemed to be coming directly towards him. He looked about him like a hunted animal, saw an immense cotton tree with wide-spreading roots, just such another as had sheltered the party during the storm which they had encountered in the forest, and promptly crept into the narrow archway beneath. He was barely in time. Hardly had he squatted in the shadow, and found an aperture for his rifle, when a group of natives came into view, slashing the vines and creepers with their knives. And in their midst, his wide-awake hat and sallow features making him conspicuous, appeared James Langdon, his face convulsed, while his hands and teeth were clenched with rage. He could hardly speak, but turned every now and again towards the stockade and shook his fists, while he growled out an oath.

Once more Dick’s rifle went to his shoulder, his cheek lay down on the stock, and he aligned the sights dead upon the half-caste’s forehead. One pressure of the finger, the gentlest pull, and the man would be slain. The temptation was great, the call for such action clear, and yet, and yet —

“Be a sportsman,” whispered Dick to himself. “Shoot a fellow in cold blood, Dick Stapleton, even though he be a rogue and a robber? Never!”

He lowered the rifle, while the half-caste, all unconscious of his danger, snatched his hat from his head, and called a halt. It was clear that he was baffled. One could see it on his ugly, resentful face. There was a scowl in his every look, while his eyes, when he turned them towards the stockade, flashed in a manner which boded little good to the defenders, should they come into his power.

“They have us beaten, comrades,” he suddenly exclaimed, while at the words the scowl became even more pronounced. “This white man is the cause of our failure. He must have suspected, else how comes it that when we arrived they bolted to their lair? There was a shout as we came from the trees, and then the men at the heads of the shafts began to wind for their lives. In two minutes they were all racing for the stockade, and when we got there they were safe, while their bullets were flying amongst us. It is that cursed Englishman!”

The bitterness of his misfortune seemed to overwhelm him, for he threw himself on the grass, muttering and beating his hands together. Then he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, for this half-caste had accustomed himself to the manners of Europeans, and lit it with a match.