The Governor’s visit—Pageant of Kings—Evil omens—The Fetish Grove—The fort—Loyal natives locked out—A fight—King Aguna’s triumph—Relief at last—Their perils—Saved by a dog—Second relief—Governor retires—Wait for Colonel Willcocks—The flag still flying—Lady Hodgson’s adventures.

In 1874 Sir Garnet Wolseley captured Kumassi, the capital of the Ashantis, whose country lies in the interior of the Gold Coast, in West Africa. In March, 1900, Sir Frederick Hodgson, Governor of the Gold Coast, set out with Lady Hodgson and a large party of carriers and attendants to visit Ashantiland. They had no anticipation of any trouble arising, and on their march held several palavers with friendly Kings and chiefs.

On Sunday, the 25th of March, they entered Kumassi in state. At the brow of a steep hill the European officials met the Governor’s party, and escorted them into the town. At the base of the hill they had to cross a swamp on a high causeway, and then ascend a shorter hill to the fort. Some children under the Basel missionaries sang “God Save the Queen!” at a spot where only a few years before human sacrifices and every species of horrible torture used to be enacted.

Soon they passed under a triumphal arch, decorated with palms, having “Welcome” worked upon it in flowers. Near the fort were assembled in a gorgeous pageant native Kings and chiefs, with their followers, who all rose up to salute the Governor, while the royal umbrellas of state were rapidly whirled round and round to signify the general applause. Everything seemed to promise order and contentment. But that night Lady Hodgson was informed by her native servants that very bad fetishes, or portents, had been passed on the road through the forest. One of these was a fowl split open while still alive, and laid upon a fetish stone; another was a string of eggs twined about a fetish house; a third was the presence of little mounds of earth to represent graves—a token that the white man would find burial in Ashanti.

The next day Lady Hodgson went to see the once famous Fetish Grove—the place into which the bodies of those slain for human sacrifices were thrown. Most of its trees had been blown up with dynamite in 1896, when our troops had marched in to restore order, and the bones and skulls had been buried. The executioners—a hereditary office—used to have a busy time in the old days, for every offence was punished by mutilation or death; for, as the King of the Quia country once told the boys at Harrow School, “We have no prisons, and we have to chop off ear or nose or hand, and let the rascal go.”

But the Ashanti victim had the right of appealing to the King against his sentence. This right had become a dead-letter, because, as soon as the sentence of execution had been pronounced, the victim was surrounded by a clamorous crowd, and a sharp knife was run through one cheek, through the tongue, and so out through the other cheek, which somewhat impeded his power of appeal. One would have thought that English rule and white justice would have been a pleasant change after the severity of the native law.

The fort is a good square building, with rounded bastions at the four corners. On each of these bastions is a platform on which can be worked a Maxim gun, each gun being protected by a roof above and by iron shutters at the sides. The only entrance to the fort lies on the south, where are heavy iron bullet-proof gates, which can be secured by heavy beams resting in slots in the wall. The walls of the fort are loopholed, and inside are platforms for those who are defending to shoot from. There is a well of good water in one corner of the square. The ground all round the fort was cleared, and it would be very difficult for an enemy to cross the open in any assault.

As soon as the Governor of the Gold Coast knew that the Ashanti Kings were bent on war, he telegraphed for help from the coast and from the north, where most of the Hausa troops were employed. They were 150 miles away from help, with a climate hot and unhealthy, the rainy season being near at hand; and they were surrounded by warlike and savage tribes. Fortunately, some of the native Kings, with their followers, were loyal to the English Queen; these tried to persuade the rebels to desist from revolt, and lay their grievances before the Governor in palaver. But the more they tried to pacify them, the more insolent were their demands. The first detachment of Hausa troops arrived on the 18th of April, to the great joy of the little garrison; but soon after their arrival the market began to fail: the natives dare not come with food-stuffs, and the roads were now closed. On the 25th a Maxim gun was run out of the fort to check the advance of the Ashantis; but they possessed themselves of the town, and loopholed the huts near the fort. The loyal inhabitants of Kumassi had left their homes, and were crowded outside the walls of the fort, bringing with them their portable goods, being upwards of 3,000 men, women, and children. The gates of the fort had hitherto remained open, but it was evident that the small English force would be compelled to concentrate in the fort; and as the refugees seemed to be bent on rushing the gates for safer shelter, the order was given to close the gates.

“Gradually the gate guard was removed one by one, and then came the work of shutting the gates and barricading them. Never shall I forget the sight. My heart stood still, for I knew that were this panic-stricken crowd to get in, the fort would fall an easy prey to the rebels, and we should be lost. It was an anxious moment. Could the guards close the gates in face of that rushing multitude? A moment later, and the suspense was over. There was a desperate struggle, a cry, a bang, and the refugees fell back.” Then they tried to climb up by the posts of the veranda. So sentries had to be posted on the veranda to force them down again. “I felt very much for these poor folk,” writes Lady Hodgson; “but, besides the fact that the fort would not have accommodated a third of them, the whole space was wanted for our troops.”

The hours of that day went on, with sniping from all sides. Sometimes the rebels would come out into the open to challenge a fight, but the machine guns made them aware that boldness was not the best policy.

At night, when our men flung themselves down to rest, the whole sky was lit up with the fire of the Hausa cantonments and of the town. Tongues of fire were leaping up to the skies on all sides, lighting up the horrors of the scene around, affrighting the women and children, and adding to the anxiety of all.

Night at Kumassi was not a time of quiet repose; the incessant chatter of the men and women just outside the walls, the yelling and squealing of children, all made sleep difficult. And there was ever the thought underlying all that to-morrow might be the end, that the fort might be rushed by numbers.

But, as it turned out, the 26th dawned quietly. So, later in the day, a strong escort of Hausas was sent to the hospital to recover, if possible, the drugs and medical stores which had been abandoned through lack of carriers when the sick were brought into the fort. Fortunately, the rebels had left the drugs and stores untouched, and they were brought in with thankful alacrity.

The next night there was a hurricane of wind rushing through the forest trees and drenching the poor refugees, who tried to light fires to keep themselves warm.

“There was a dear old Hausa sentry on the veranda near my bedroom, who regarded me as his special charge. On this occasion, and on others, when my curiosity prompted me to go on the veranda to see what was happening, this old man would push me back, saying in very broken English, ‘Go to room—Ashanti man come—very bad. You no come out, miss.’”

It had been hoped that by the 29th of April the Lagos Hausas would have arrived to rescue them, but they did not come, and the rebels fired the hospital. Not liking our shells bursting amongst them, the Ashantis, instead of retiring, swarmed out into the open, and advanced upon the fort. The refugees were cowering down close to the walls, and around them were the Hausa outposts ready with their rifles. In the fort were the gunners standing to their guns. As the rebels came on, jumping and shouting, and dancing and firing, the Maxims opened upon them; still they came on, and now the Hausa outposts took up the fire. At last the fight became a hand-to-hand struggle, and the guns in the fort had to cease firing, lest they should hit friend and foe alike. Then some 200 loyal natives, led by Captain Armitage, sallied out to the fight. “At their head were their chiefs, prominent amongst whom was the young King of Aguna, dressed in his fetish war-coat, in the form of a ‘jumper,’ and hung back and front with fetish charms made from snake and other skins. He also wore a pair of thick leather boots, and where these ended his black legs began, and continued until they met well above the knee a short trouser of coloured cotton. He also wore a fierce-looking head-dress, and carried war charms made of elephant tails. Proudly and well did he bear himself; and at last, to our joy, a great cheer rose in the distance, and proclaimed that the enemy were retiring. Soon King Aguna came back, triumphantly carried on the shoulders of two of his warriors to the gate of the fort, where he met with a great ovation from his ‘ladies,’ who flocked round him, pressing forward to shake his hand and congratulate him upon the victory.” So the day was won, and with the loss of only one man killed and three wounded, as the rebels fired over our heads.

Captain Middlemist had been too ill to take the command, and it devolved upon Captain G. Marshall, Royal West Kent Regiment, who, after his severe exertions, suddenly succumbed, and was brought into quarters half delirious. The heat of the sun, the excitement, and the work had been too much for him; fortunately, he was well again the next day.

By this victory the rebels had been driven out of Kumassi and across the swamps; they had left behind large supplies of food and war stores, which the garrison secured; even the refugees outside the walls began to smile and sing. It is astonishing how these children of Nature suddenly change from the depth of woe to an ecstasy and delirium of delight.

But where were the Lagos Hausas all this time?

Four o’clock came, five o’clock came, and still no sign of their arriving. Anxious faces scanned the Cape Coast road. Something must have happened to them; they had been met, checked, repulsed.

But at half-past five firing was heard in the forest. “There they are,” said each to his neighbour, and a feverish excitement made numbers run to the veranda posts, and climb up to get a better view. A force also was sent down the road to meet them. How slow the time went with the watchers in the fort!

Just before six o’clock there was a yell from the loyal natives, and shouts announced that the Hausas were coming round the bend of the road. The relief came in through two long lines of natives, who wanted to see the brave fellows who had fought their way up to Kumassi from the coast. But, poor fellows! they had had a terrible time: their officers were all wounded; they had had nothing to eat or drink since early morning, and they were fearfully exhausted.

However, after they had slept a few hours and drunk some tea, they were able to tell their tale. Captain Aplin, who led them, said:

“We got on all right till we came to a village called Esiago, when we were attacked on both sides by a large force concealed among the trees. I formed the men up two deep, kneeling, and facing the bush on either side. By Jove! it was a perfect hail of slugs; and we could not see a soul, as the black chaps slid down the trunks of the trees into the jungle. Captain Cochrane, who was with the Maxim, was hit in the shoulder, but would not leave his post, and Dr. Macfarlane was wounded while tending him. Then the machine-guns became overheated and jammed, and had to cease firing. Four times the enemy returned to the attack. I got this graze on my cheek from a bullet which passed through my orderly’s leg.

“Next day, after crossing the Ordah River, we were attacked at eleven a.m., and the fight lasted till five in the evening. A sudden turn in the track, and we saw a strongly-built stockade, horseshoe shape. Some Ashantis were looking over the top and peering between the logs. The track was so narrow that we had no front for firing, and the whole path was swept by their guns. I told off Captain Cochrane to outflank the stockade. He, with thirty Hausas, crept away into the bush to do so. Meanwhile, we ran short of ammunition, and had to load with gravel and stones. When I told the men to fix bayonets ready for a charge, I found they were so done up they could hardly stand. Our hour seemed to have struck, and the guns had again jammed. Just then three volleys sounded near the stockade. Cochrane was enfilading them. Hurrah! Instantly the Ashanti fire began to slacken. One charge, and it was ours.”

Amongst those who had come in with the Hausas was Mr. Branch, an officer in the telegraph department. In reply to Lady Hodgson as to how he was so lame, he replied:

“I and my men were busy putting the line right to Kumassi. We were peacefully going through the forest when—bang! one of my hammock-men went down, shot, and the rest, carriers and all, threw down their loads, and bolted into the tangle of trees and undergrowth. By good luck, I had taken off my helmet and placed it at the foot of my hammock. The rebels thought it was my head, and every gun was blazing away at my poor helmet. It was fairly riddled, I can tell you. I jumped out of the hammock, and made for the bush; but it was so thick and thorny, the brutes caught me and beat me with sticks about the legs and feet, so that I can scarcely walk, as you see. Well, it was my poor terrier dog that saved me; for he came nosing after me, but somehow took a wrong turn, was fired on and wounded, and went off whimpering into the bush in a different direction. The Ashantis followed my doggie, thinking he was with me; so I got away from them that night. I wandered about, trying to find the village, where a Kokofu chief was friendly to me. As daylight came I heard natives talking, and threw myself down under some leaves, thinking it would be rather unpleasant to be taken and tortured. Well, they came up, saw the grass had been disturbed, stopped, examined, found me! I was done for! No, I was not. I saw by their grinning and other signs that they were friendly. In fact, my carriers had told the friendly chief about me, and he had sent these men to bring me back; they had been looking for me all night. They carried me back to Esumeja, where I stayed until the Lagos Hausas came up on the 27th of April.”

Next day the garrison of Kumassi found that their rescuers had been compelled to abandon their rice, and to fire away most of their ammunition on the road. Now there were 250 more mouths to feed, and food was running short. Rations were served out every morning, and it was a very delicate operation, for the loyal natives thought it a clever thing to steal a tin of beef or biscuits. The biscuits and tinned meat had been stored four years in a tropical climate; the meat-tins were covered inside by a coating of green mould, and the biscuits were either too hard to bite or were half-eaten already by weevils. Captain Middleton died on the 6th of May, and when he was buried, his “boy” Mounchi lay down on his master’s grave like a faithful dog and sobbed bitterly. That boy became a famous nurse; they called him the “Rough Diamond.” The poor refugees had now left the walls of the fort and had gone to their huts; they looked so wan and piteous.

Night after night there came a fearful noise of drumming from the rebel camps. The loyal chiefs said the drums were beating out defiance and challenge to fight.

“Why not send for more white men?” Ah! why did they not come?

Every day news came of a rescue column; every night the rumour was proved false.

On the 15th of May, about 3.30 p.m., there was a terrific hubbub all round the fort. Officers rushed on to the veranda to see what was the matter. Hundreds of friendly natives were streaming along the north road.

“What is it, chief?”

“Heavy loads of food coming in. Much eat! much eat—very good for belly!”

In a few minutes the garrison saw a joyful sight: Major Morris leading in his troops from the northern territories—such a fine body of men, all wearing the picturesque many-coloured straw hats of the north. Some of the officers were on ponies. Oh, what shaking of hands! what delightful chatter! But they, too, had had to fight their way through several stockades, and some were wounded.

“The arrival of Major Morris,” writes Lady Hodgson, “seemed to take a load off our minds. He was so cheery, confident, and resourceful, and seemed always able to raise the spirits of the faint-hearted.... But the large loads of food did not in reality exist: they had only brought enough to last a week; they had, however, brought plenty of ammunition.”

Major Morris was now in command of 750 of all ranks, and he resolved to make a reconnaissance in force. They went after the rebels far from the fort, and whilst they were away fighting, the wives of the refugees were doing a slow funeral dance up and down the road, chanting a mournful dirge, their faces and bodies daubed with white paint. In spite of this appeal to their gods, many wounded were carried back to the fort.

Many a weary day came and went; no strong relief came—no news. The natives were dying of starvation: some went mad and shrieked; others sat still and picked their cloth to pieces. It was bad enough for all. A rat cost ten shillings; all pets had been eaten long ago.

Then it was determined that the Governor and Lady Hodgson and most of the garrison should try to force their way to the coast, as there were only three days’ supply of rations left. The 23rd of June was to be the day of departure.

The Governor’s last words to the men left behind in the fort were: “Well, you have a supply of food for twenty-three days, and are safe for that period; but we are going to die to-day.” Captain Bishop was left in command of the fort, with a small force.

From Captain Bishop’s report we learn that Major Morris had scarcely left Kumassi when he saw a band of Ashantis coming towards the fort from their stockade. They thought, no doubt, that the fort had been deserted, but the fire from two Maxims soon convinced them to the contrary. The refugees, who had built shelters round the walls, had all, with the exception of 150, gone away with the Governor’s column; but their empty shelters formed a pestilential area: over them hovered vultures—a sure proof of what some of them contained—and one of the first duties of the little garrison was to burn them up, after examining their contents.

The day after the column left three men died of starvation, and almost daily one or more succumbed. When no relief came, as promised—though they had been told it was only sixteen miles off—their hopes fell, and after ten days they gave up all hope of surviving.

“But,” he says, “we kept up an appearance of cheerfulness for the sake of our men. I regard the conduct of the native troops as marvellous; they maintained perfect discipline, and never complained. Some were too weak even to stand at the table to receive their rations, and lay about on the ground. All were worn to skin and bone, but there were a few who, to relieve their hunger, had been eating poisonous herbs, which caused great swellings of the body. Sometimes native women would come outside the fort and offer to sell food. A penny piece of cocoa realized fifteen shillings; bananas were eighteen-pence each; half a biscuit could be bought for three shillings. This may give some idea of the scarcity of food.

“On the 14th of July we heard terrific firing at 4.30 p.m. Hopes jumped up again, but most of the men were too weak to care for anything. It was very pathetic that now, when relief was at hand, some of the men were just at the point of death.

“At 4.45, amid the din of the ever-approaching firing, we heard ringing British cheers, and a shell passed over the top of the fort. We soon saw shells bursting in all directions about 400 yards off, and we fired a Maxim to show that we were alive. Then, to our intense relief, we heard a distant bugle sound the ‘Halt!’ and at six o’clock on this Sunday evening, the 15th of July, we saw the heads of the advance guard emerge from the bush, with a fox-terrier trotting gaily in front.

“Instantly the two buglers on the veranda sounded the ‘Welcome,’ blowing it over and over again in their excitement. A few minutes later a group of white helmets told us of the arrival of the staff, and we rushed out of the fort, cheering to the best of our ability. The meeting with our rescuers was of a most affecting character.

“Colonel Willcocks and his officers plainly showed what they had gone through. The whole of the force was halted in front of the fort, and three cheers for the Queen and the waving of caps and helmets formed an evening scene that none of us will ever forget.” So they won through by pluck and patience—33 Europeans and some 720 Hausas opposing many thousands of savage and cruel natives.

And what about the Governor’s party?

They stole away on the morning of the 23rd of June in a blue-white mist, through the swamp and the clinging bush, till they came to a stockade. Then they were seen by the Ashantis, who began to beat their tom-toms and drums, signalling for help from other camps. But they took the stockade, and found beyond it a nice little camp; before every hut a fire was burning and food cooking, and no one to look after it. Many a square meal was hurriedly snatched and eaten, but some who were too greedy and stayed behind to eat fell victims to the returning foe.

Then came a terrible wrestling with bad roads and sniping blacks and a deluge of rain, and most of their boxes were thrown away or lost.

Of course there were many cases of theft. On the third night two men were brought into the village in a dying state. One of them was clasping in his hand a label taken from a bottle of Scrubb’s ammonia. They had broken open a box, and finished the two bottles which they found there: one was whisky, the other ammonia!

Lady Hodgson writes: “One stream I remember well; it was some 30 feet wide, and flowing swiftly. Across it was a tree-trunk, very slippery. How was I to get over? The difficulty was solved by my cook carrying me over in his arms. He was a tall man, and managed to take me over safely; but more than once he stumbled, and I thought I should be dropped into the torrent. Often the road led through high reeds and long grass, and many a time I thought we had lost our way, and might suddenly emerge into some unfriendly village, to be taken prisoners or cut down.

“At last N’kwanta came in sight, perched on a hill. We could see the Union Jack flying on a flagstaff in the centre of the town, and the King’s people drawn up to receive the Governor. We were at last among friends.

“Fires were burning everywhere, and the cooking of food was the sole pursuit. Our poor starved Hausas had now before them the diet in which their hearts delighted. It was a pleasant sight to see the joy with which they welcomed their altered prospects, and the dispersal of the gloom which had so long rested upon all of us like a pall.”

From Lady Hodgson’s “Kumassi,” by kind permission of Messrs. C. Arthur Pearson, Ltd.