Northern Nigeria 



picking out the more interesting sporting adven- 

 tures from my diary, though some other matter 

 must be introduced by way of explanation. 



On February 17, 1898, I sailed from Liverpool 

 on the ss. Boma. On the 24th we reached Teneriffe, 

 and, after a day on that flowery but dull island, 

 steamed to Sierra Leone, which we reached and 

 quitted on March 2, and finally on the 8th were 

 at Forcados and anchored in one of the Niger 

 creeks. 



Forcados does not smile at the traveller with 

 open arms ; in fact, there is only one adjective 

 that quite hits it off, and that is " God-forsaken. " 

 It was, I remember, a wet day; it always is, I 

 believe, at Forcados. The sky was lowering, the 

 sea grey; it was hot, with a stuffy, damp heat. 

 Everywhere were mangrove swamps, no dry land 

 visible, only trees coming up out of the sea ; 

 creeks ran in all directions. It was easy to see 

 how it took so many centuries to discover the 

 mouth of the Niger. Presently a flat-bottomed 

 stern-wheeler emerged from the swamps; it was 

 a Niger Company boat; it steamed up to us. 

 One or two white, very white, men were on board, 

 and our ship's officers began to question them as 

 to other white men they had taken out on previous 

 voyages. It appeared they were mostly dead, or 

 " couldn't last long." I think we were all a little 

 depressed as we got down on to the launch. We 



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