April i, 1884,] 



THE TROPICAL AGRICULTURIST. 



709 



THE PORTUGUESE COLONIES CrF ^VEST APRICA. ° 



BY H. H. JOHNSTON. | 



Of course the first Portuguese possession off the 'Western 

 Coast of Africa is Madeira, but this is too well-known for 

 me to touch on, so I will pass on to the Cape Venle Islanfls, 

 an archipelago lying about 300 miles out at sea opposite 

 Senegal, between the parallels of 14 = and 17 ° N. These 

 islands are ten in number, not counting many smaller barren 

 rocks, and their entire population is about 100,000 or 30 

 to the square mile. In b,jite of their apparently barren and 

 sterile look from the sea, they are productive, and in the 

 interior of most of the islands there are springs of water 

 which, with careful manipulation, irrigate large quantities 

 of fertile soil, and compensate for the almost entire absence 

 of rain. The productions of the Cape Verde archipelago 

 consist of superior coffee, cacao, orohilla-weed, castor-oil, 

 rum, maize, salt, cotton, indigo, oranges of fine quality, limes, 

 lemons, pine-apples, cocoa-nuts, bananas, and most tropical 

 fruits, sugar-cane, tobacco, coral, and much cattle and other 

 live stock, including a hardy and very serviceable breed of 

 horses, which are constantly exported to the neighbouring 

 continent. 



The largest island of the group is Santiago, whereon is 

 the seat of government for the whole archipelago. Its 

 superficies is a little under 500 square miles. The interior 

 is fertile and well cultivated, and traversed by excellent 

 roadf, with strongly made bridges across the many ravines. 

 The mountains rise to over 4,000 feet, and from their sides 

 gush .springs of delicious water which is carefully hus- 

 banded, and used to irrigate vast plantations of Indian 

 corn, castor-oil plant, sugar-cane, pine-apples, and tobacco. 

 Water is also conveyed in leaden pipes from a considerable 

 distance into the town of Praia, the capital of the island, 

 where it is stored in .an immense reservoir. 



Though Santiago is the largest island of the Cape Yerdes, 

 it is but little known to English people, for only Portuguese 

 steamers call at its port, which is not a remarkably safe 

 one; on the other baud, the miserable little desert islet 

 of Sao Vicente, owing to its aplendid harbour, is become 

 a place of cosmopolitan resort, where the Anglo-Brazilian 

 Telegraph Company has a station, and where ipany great 

 lines of steamers have their place of call. The jagged coast 

 of Sao Vicente is grandly awful in its sublimity of desolation. 

 Sharply peaked and precipitous mountains descend to the 

 water's edge ; and in between their masses are little inlets 

 of blue foam-streaked sea. The mountains are variegated 

 \vith the long sloping lines of their different strata; they 

 are scarped, and worn, and twisted into fantastic shapes, 

 and they look like the earth's throes of agonj- hardened 

 into stone. There is not a sign of life, not a bird or a plant 

 visible about them. As they stand out in their dead neutral 

 tints against a glaring blue sky, they might represent a 

 landscape in a lifelessplanet. In the interior of Sao Vicente 

 there is one spring of water where a little vegetation grows, 

 and a few people live and try to raise fruit and vegetables 

 for the town, but, as a rule, Sao Vicente is entirely nourished 

 by the great island of Sant Antao opposite, from which it 

 receives not onJv food and water, but even the very soil 

 necessary to grow the few plants and trees which decorate 

 its sandy streets. 



* * » 



"When we leave the prosperous and cinlised Cape Verde 

 Islands and arrive at the Portuguese possessions in Sene- 

 gambia. which lie some 500 miles to the south-east, the 

 contrast is very great in every way. "NVe find ourselves in 

 a most typically African part of Mrica. The high and arid 

 mountains of the Cape Verde archipelago are exchanged 

 for a flat, marshy country, covered with the densest forest, 

 and civilisation yields to utter savagery. Portuguese Guinea, 

 which extends from about the 13th parallel to the 10th, 

 just comes in between our colonies of the Gambia and 

 Sierra Leone. This territory has about 200 miles of coast 

 line, and offers many wavs into the rich interior, by means 

 of the great and navigable rivers. Ca-saman^a, Geba, and 

 Cochen. Portuguese Guinea is, in fact, little more than the 

 vast deltJi of these three great rivers, which commuiiicate 

 with ea h other by many natural canals. There is also 

 the large archijjelago of the Bissagos Islands, lying close 

 to the mainland, and on one of those is placed the capital 



f the pro\'ince, Bolania, where the Government andprincipa 

 merchants reside. 



» * * 



Amongst the white inhabitants, those of Portuguese 

 nationality natiurally prevail, owing to the soldiers and 

 officers of the garrison, but all the principal merchants are 

 French, and the commerce of Portuguese Senegarabia is 

 almost within their hands. They have many commercial 

 houses, not only in Bolama, but in most of the neighbouring 

 islands, and the greatest trade is done in the export of 

 ground-nuts, of which shipful is sent to Marseilles, there 

 to be turned into spurious olive oil. Besides this, wax, 

 coffee, cacao, indiarubber, sugar, ivory, and wild beasts' 

 skins are also exported. Gold is found in the interior. 



The principal centres of Portuguese rule and ti-ade in 

 Senegambia are Bolama, the capital; Bissau and Cachen, 

 fortified places; the rich island of Gallinhas; Colonia, at 

 the mouth of the Kio Grande; Geba, a hundred miles 

 inland on the river of that name; Gaiijarra and Fa, on 

 the same river; Farim, on the Cachen; Bolor, on the 

 Casamantja; and Jafuoea, and Zeginchor. 



The temperature of this part of Africa is very high, and 

 the heat is more oppressive than in most parts of the 

 continent; nevertheless, Portuguese Guinea is not very 

 unhealthy. Yellow fever is quite unknown, and marsh 

 fevers wfth rheumatism and ague are the most prevalent 

 forms of disease. Everj'where the most perfect drinkmg 

 water, cold and sparkling, is to be procured, not on the 

 surface, but from wells of about 20 ft. in depth. Time 

 forbids me to descant on the extreme richness of this 

 possession, or, more strictly, on the latent richness of its 

 soil and productions. Vegetation here reaches a develop- 

 ment almost unparalleled ; and I might state that Portuguese 

 (iuinea for the natur.alist and anthropologist is one of the 

 least known and most promising fields of study. 



Though many traces of ancient Portuguese occupation 

 may be found on the Gold Coast and the Niger Delta, 

 the oidy remaining relic of their former possessions in 

 this part of Africa is the solitary fortress of Sao .Toao 

 d'Ajuda, in the kingdom of Dahome. "AVhydah" it is 

 I called by the Enghsh, and it is the principal or the only 

 I seaport of that still independent kingdom. 



! » * * 



\ At the present time, "Whydah, or, as the Portuguese call 

 ' it, Sao Joao d'Ajuda, is under the administrative govern- 

 \ ment of the colonial dirtrict of Sao Thome and l*rincip6. 

 1 These latter are two islands of singular natural wealth 

 1 and incomparable natural beauty, lying from one to two 

 ! hundred miles from the African coast, about the region 

 : of the equator. 



I Principe, which is distant from its sister island .about 

 a hundred miles, offers to the delighted gaze of a Nature 

 I worshipper one of the most beautiful spectacles in th'i world. 

 I As you enter the fine lake-like harbour of its only town, 

 a wealth of vegetation is spread before you. Ou the spits 

 of projecting rock and sand, coco palms grow in sturdy 

 groups, while the rapidly rising land is one dense mass 

 of dark green forest. Immediately behind the town, a 

 great sugar-loaf peak rises nearly 3,000 feet into the sky, 

 clothed up to the very top, save for one small streak of 

 grey rock, with velvety forest which, from its proximity 

 to the shore, presents a most imposing spectacle. 



In the town, there is a general appearance of desolation 

 and decay. Soon after landing on a stone quay project- 

 ing into the water, and evidently a fortunate relic of the 

 magnificence of former days, you pass through some ram- 

 shackle streets, and cross a stone bridge over the little 

 I river. Here, there is a charming view of the distant peak 

 . reflected in its still waters. Many coco palms droop over 

 I the stream. Women come here to wash clothes, and their 

 I little naked children chase the mud fish and land crabs 

 j through the ooze. There are, in this town, no less than 

 I five ruined churches, their roofless interiors choked with 

 I ferns. But whichever way you turn, nothing but ruin, 

 abandonment, decay, meets the sjuldened eye. It is like 

 , a deal town surprised by some calamity, and offering its 

 ruined houses — many of them of magnificent jjrojjortions 

 — and its deserted public buildings as a mute record of 

 the disaster. The river, in its different branches, was once 

 spanned by fine st«ne bridges, whose massive foundations 

 attest their former stability; now, shaky and miseiable 

 i structures of planUs and ropes offer a hazardous method 



