by Jules Verne
But, while we are walking around Kankan under their guidance, here come Morilire and Tchoumouki stopping a few steps from a hut which at first sight looks not at all out of the ordinary. By chance, which I suspect them to have abetted, we seem to be exactly before the residence of the famous Ke'nie'lala they've been praising so highly. Once again they advise us to visit him. Once again we refuse. But they won't take no for an answer, and again they imperturbably begin to sing the praises of the venerable witch doctor.
What's it got to do with Morilire or his friend Tchoumouki if we visit their Ke'nie'lala? Have the customs of this land advanced so much that the two rascals will get a "commission" on the proceeds of their phenomenon, and are they expected to bring clients to him, as the gondoliers of Venice bring them to the glasswork and lace manufacturers? There's something that M. Barsac would approve of.
The two comperes are not discouraged. They insist so much that we give way, if only to have some peace. After all, we can give them a little pleasure, and if it brings them a few cowries, so much the better for them.
We enter a hut, abominably dirty, penetrated by only a gleam of light. The Ke'nie'lala is standing in the middle of the room. After having slapped himself for five minutes on the thigh while saying Ini-tili, which means "good midday", for that is the time, he squats down on a mat and invites us to do the same.
He begins by piling up in front of him a heap of very fine sand, which he spreads out fanwise by one movement of a little broom. Then he asks us for a dozen Kola nuts, half red and half white, which he moves rapidly over the sand while babbling incomprehensible words; then, setting them out on the sand in several figures, circles, squares, diamonds, rectangles, triangles, and so forth, he makes strange gestures above them as though he were blessing them. At last he collects them carefully and holds out his dirty hands in which we place the consultation fee.
Now we've only got to ask him. He is inspired. He speaks.
In turn we ask several questions, while he listens in silence. He will give all the answers at once, he tells us. When we have finished, it's his turn to speak, very volubly and very quickly, like a man who is certain of what he says. Not very cheerful, the predictions of our magician! If we had any faith in him, which fortunately we haven't, we should come out of his consulting room worried and ill at ease.
He starts with me, with me who's been enquiring about the fate of what I value most in the world, the articles I'm sending you.
"Soon," he tells me in a gibberish which I am translating into decent French, "nobody will have any more news of you."
(As to the half fact about Morilire, either that doesn't mean anything, or if St. Berain was not so absentminded as usual, Morilire is an accomplice of those people who are trying to stop us. His insistence on taking us to the Ke'nie'lala already makes him suspect, and it is credible that he has at least been hired for that purpose. This point will have to be cleared up.
Such are my conclusions. The future will show whether they are, or are not, well founded.
Qui vivra, verra. Amedee Florence
In the bush, a day's march from Kankan, 26th December.
I add a postscript to yesterday's letter, which Tchou-mouki has undertaken to send off to you.
What happened last night is extraordinary. I tell you about it without even trying to explain it.
We left Kankan yesterday morning, and, after two long stages of about twenty miles all told, we camped last night in the open. This region is sparsely inhabited. The last village we passed, Diangana, is about twelve miles behind us, and it is thirty miles to the next, Si-koro.
At the usual hour, the camp turns in.
In the middle of the night we are suddenly aroused by a strange noise, which none of us can explain plausibly. It is a loud roaring, resembling that of a steam engine, or, to be more precise, like the buzzing of insects, but of gigantic insects, of insects the size of elephants.
According to the sentries' reports, this unexpected noise began towards the west. At first very weak, it gradually grew louder. By the time we've come out of our tents it is at its highest. The queerest thing is that it comes to us from above, from the air, from the sky. Whatever causes it must be almost overhead. But what can this be?
In vain we strain our eyes. Impossible to see anything. Thick clouds hide the moon, and the night is as black as ink.
While we are vainly trying to pierce the darkness, the roaring goes towards the east, fades, dies away. . . . But before it has quite gone, we hear it again approaching us from the west. Like the first, this roaring increases, reaches its maximum, fades and ceases, going off towards the east.
The camp seems terror stricken. All the Negroes are hiding their faces in the ground. The Europeans have grouped themselves around Captain Marcenay. Among them I can see Tchoumouki and Tongane who, by dint of living among white people, had gained something of their firm spirit. On the other hand, I cannot find Morilire. No doubt he is lying flat on his stomach somewhere with those of his own colour.
Five times the terrifying roaring begins, increases, and dies away. Then the night resumes its usual calm and ends without further disturbance.
In the morning it's quite a business to get the column to form up. The natives are scared and absolutely refuse to budge. Captain Marcenay at last brings them to reason. He shows them the sun, rising in a cloudless sky. Certainly nothing out of the way is now happening in the air.
At last we set off, three hours late.
The events of the night naturally form the subject of all our conversation, but nobody can explain them. Little by little, however, we start talking about other things. Then, a mile and a half beyond our camp, Captain Marcenay, who is going on ahead, notices that the earth is grooved by some ruts about four inches deep at the western end, petering gradually towards the east. There are ten of them in five groups of two.
Have they got anything to do with the events of the night? One is at first tempted to answer: No.
And yet there is the direction common to them all, from west to east and their numbers are similar: five groups of ruts, five successive roarings.
Well?
Well, I don't know.
Amedee Florence
CHAPTER VII
AT SIKASSO
On the 12th January, the Barsac Mission had arrived at Sikasso, about 700 miles from the coast.
Though L'Expansion Francaise was not receiving further articles from Amedee Florence, that able reporter was still keeping his notebook uptodate, and it is from this that the following narrative is taken.
To judge from his records, the journey from Kankan to Sikasso was monotonous and devoid of interest. A few jokes were made about St. Berain, and his absent mindedness, and there were the ordinary incidents of travel, none of them worth quoting. Tchoumouki seemed to be avoiding his old comrade Tongane and was becoming increasingly friendly with the leading guide, Morilire but nobody took any notice of that.
None of the dismal forebodings of the Ke'nie'lala showed any signs of being fulfilled. Amedee Florence went on writing his articles and giving them to Tchoumouki, who always promised to send them off; and if for some reason or other they did not arrive, the reporter knew nothing of that. Berain could still bestride his horse. The heart of Jane Mornas had received no wound, or at least no visible wound, though in a figurative sense, this prophecy seemed more likely to be fulfilled than the others, as Florence recorded in a few sympathetic lines.
As regards the fourth prediction, the most serious and the most sinister, nothing, absolutely nothing, suggested that it was ever likely to be justified. The Mission was neither destroyed nor reduced to slavery; it was advancing peaceably under the protection of Captain Marcenay's two hundred sabres; its animals were in good health and not more of its luggage had been lost in crossing the rivers than was to be expected with Negroes.
Moreover, the conclusions which Amedee Florence reached at the end of his third article had not been confirmed. Nobody had risked making
an attack on the column, and no other Ke'nie'lala had been met with to utter his dismal forebodings. So if the reporter had been right, and somebody had cherished the absurd plan of scaring the Mission into retiring, he seemed to have abandoned it.
Indeed, Florence himself did not feel too certain about this plan. The facts on which his opinion was based gradually lost their cogency as they faded into the past. Although the expedition had not reached Sikasso, beyond which the danger was supposed to arise, he felt more reassured every day, so absurd did it seem that the inoffensive Negroes whom they met should risk attacking a large body of regular soldiers.
He might, however, have felt a little less certain about basing his peace of mind on the escort had he remembered that soon it was to be halved.
For it was at Sikasso that the Mission was to divide. While the first half, led by Barsac in person, was to push on to the Niger and return by way of Dahomey, the second, under the guidance of Baudrieres, would turn southwards towards Grand Bassam. Obviously both halves of the Mission would have an equal right to protection, so that the escort would have to be reduced to a hundred men for each.
Sikasso itself was a mere group of villages separated by cultivated fields and enclosed by the usual tata; within this the French administration had constructed the buildings needed to house the troops which formed its garrison.
This then consisted of one company of Colonial Infantry and two of Senegal Tirailleurs, these led by French officers and N.C.O's. The delight of these young fellows, so long separated from their comrades, may well be imagined when they saw the arrival of the Barsac Mission. It rose to its height when they recognized the commander of the escort, for Captain Marcenay found several old friends in this distant outpost. It became almost delirious when they realized that the expedition included a white girl.
The new arrivals were honoured by a ceremonial welcome. Flags waving in the breeze, bugles sounding, drums beating, triumphal arches wreathed in foliage, applauding Negroes picturesquely grouped together nothing was lacking, not even an address by Barsac.
That evening the officers entertained their new friends at a magnificent party remarkable for its sparkling gaiety. Jane Mornas presided, with a success which need not be dwelt on. Everybody surrounded her, even thronged around her, for all these ardent young officers would gladly have fought for a smile from this girl who had brought a ray of sunshine into their exile.
But the head of Jane Mornas was not turned by popularity. Among all the compliments she received, those of which Captain Marcenay was not sparing found the quickest way to her heart. This preference she showed so unconsciously, so innocently, that it was realized at once. So Captain Marcenay's comrades, like true Frenchmen, were considerate enough to limit their enthusiasm, and in turn they showered on the fortunate officer discreet compliments which he in vain disclaimed deserving.
Marcenay tried to avoid their gaze, denied everything, swore that he did not know what they meant. Yet he understood them well enough, and wallowed in his happiness. So it seemed that his daydreams were to be the buildings needed to house the troops which formed its garrison.
Next day began a discussion about the manner in which the Mission was to be divided, and this quickly led to unforeseen difficulties.
For the Europeans, nothing could be easier. Around Baudrieres were grouped M. Heyrieux and Quirieu, conformably to their instructions, and M. Tassin, conformably to his own wishes. To Barsac were joined M. Poncin and Dr. Chatonnay. Amedee Florence also opted for that party, as its route was longer and so likely to give him more copy.
Captain Marcenay's orders were to detach a hundred of his men, commanded by a lieutenant from the garrison, as escort for Baudrieres. He himself, along with the other hundred, was to remain with Barsac. Compelled to comply strictly with these instructions, he was greatly perturbed: which of the parties would be chosen by Jane Mornas?
What a sigh of relief he gave on hearing that, when consulted on the subject, she announced that she would go with Barsac! But how different was his sigh of disillusionment this time, following close upon the first, when she added that she and St. Berain meant to remain only a few days with the honourable deputy from the Midi; after a few marches she intended to leave the party to continue her own exploration further north.
There rose from the officers a general cry of indignation; one and all regarded her as most unwise for considering so risky a project. What, alone, without an escort, she wanted to risk herself in regions almost completely unknown, where French arms had not yet entered? They explained that such a journey was impossible, that she would be risking her life, or at least that the village headmen would oppose her movements.
This achieved nothing. Jane Mornas remained inflexible, and nobody, not even Captain Marcenay, had the slightest influence upon her.
"You're wasting time," she said laughingly. "The most you will do is to scare my uncle—look at him rolling his great frightened eyes!"
"Me!" protested Agenor, thus drawn into the dispute.
"Yes, you," Jane Mornas insisted. "You're half dead with fright, that's easy to see. Are you going to be influenced by these birds of ill omen?"
"Me!" repeated poor St. Berain.
"What are you afraid of?" asked Jane superbly. "I shall be with you, my dear nephew."
"But I'm not afraid!" St. Berain protested, enraged at being the cynosure of all eyes.
Jane Mornas turned her back on his denials.
"No," she said, "I left Europe with the idea of traversing the Hombori and reaching the Niger at the top of its Bend, at Gao. I shall traverse the Hombori and I shall reach the Niger at Gao."
"And what about the Touareg Aouelimmiden, who occupy both banks of the Niger in that district?"
"I don't give a fig for the Touareg," replied Jane Mornas, "and I shall go on in spite of them."
"But why Gao rather than anywhere else? Why do you have to go there? After all, you're travelling for pleasure."
"I want to," Jane Mornas replied.
The officers agreed that this was quite a good reason and very French, and they all admired her pluck.
"It's a splendid motive," Commandant Vergeze decided. "Wlien a lady wants anything, that settles it and we're not going to be the ones to argue."
The division of the higher personnel being settled, all that remained to be done was to make a fair division of the rank and file, that seemed quite easy.
First of all, the ten donkeys, the five muleteers, and the ten porters really belonging to Jane Mornas and St. Berain naturally followed the fate of their employers. The other porters and muleteers and the rest of the animals were divided into two unequal groups, the larger being allocated to the Mission which was to make the longest journey, that of Barsac, to whom was also assigned the guide Morilire. Agreement was reached without difficulty on such points.
But it was when it was sought to put these arrangements into effect that the trouble began.
When first spoken to on the subject, Morilire categorically refused, and no argument could bring him to reason. He declared that he had been engaged only to go as far as Sikasso, and that nothing in the world would make him go further. In vain every argument was used, and even intimidation: all that he would consent to do was to accompany Baudrieres southwards. When it came to going eastwards with Barsac, it was impossible to move him.
That point having been conceded after some trouble, similar difficulties arose regarding the muleteers and the porters. Except for those directly engaged by Jane Mornas and her nephew, they unanimously refused to go beyond Sikasso. Entreaties, promises, threats, all were in vain. The expedition was up against a stone wall, and had to give up trying to convince them.
So a search had to be made for a fresh guide as well as fresh servants. There was no great difficulty in securing the latter, but several days elapsed before the expedition at last found a native guide in whom they felt enough confidence.
At once Morilire underwent a sudden change of heart He, who h
ad listened with complete indifference, even it seemed a little disdainfully, to the fruitless entreaties of his superiors, had suddenly changed his attitude the moment their efforts were crowned with success. He sought out Barsac, humbly begged pardon for his obstinacy, which he said had been due to fright, and offered to lead the Mission on to Dahomey, as he had been engaged to do. At the same time, all resistance vanished among the former porters and muleteers, who declared themselves ready to follow their guide wherever he wished to lead them, but on the sole condition that this guide would be Morilire.
This sudden unanimity clearly showed that the said Morilire was alone to be held responsible for that unexpected strike, and it was felt for a moment that his tardy offer should be declined. But as it was desirable to be certain of the assistance of an experienced personnel, and of a guide born in the district, it was finally decided to turn a blind eye to his conduct.
Thus the new guide would be assigned to Baudrieres, with a small group of the former personnel, and several of the new porters. Barsac would keep Morilire and most of the original porters and muleteers.
All these hesitations, all these changes, had taken some time. Through they had arrived together at Sikasso on the 12th January, it was not until the 21st that Barsac and Baudrieres could leave it separately.
That morning, at dawn, once more the companies were under arms and drawn up on parade under their officers, once more the flags fluttered in the breeze, once more the bugles sounded, and the Barsac Mission, followed by the Baudrieres Mission, defiled between a double line of soldiers. Then the troops, moving off behind them, escorted them as far as the edge of the enclosure.
