While Clapperton and Lander were thus bringing the work of Park to a successful conclusion, and proving the accuracy of M‘Queen’s geography of the Niger basin, there were others at work in the region which the labours and death of their great pioneer had made classic ground. Major Laing, in the course of a Government mission, had travelled from Sierra Leone to Falaba, in the country of Sulima, and ascertained that the Niger took its rise in the Highlands of Kurauka, some 70 miles south-west of Falaba, and not more than 150 miles east of Sierra Leone. The river itself he was prevented from reaching, but none the less did he come under the irresistible influence of its fascination.

More than ever had Timbuktu and the Niger become names to conjure with, as well as to infect men with a species of reckless self-sacrifice that no amount of past experience, prudence, or common sense could dispel. As in the case of Lander, and others of his predecessors, having once tasted the bitter-sweet of African exploration, there could be no rest for Major Laing until he had gathered again the magic fruit. Accordingly, after an interval of three years, he once more set forth, determined to carry his cherished dreams into realisation.

Timbuktu and the Upper Niger were the goals of his journey. Like Denham and Clapperton, he took Tripoli as his starting-point. Thence he passed south-west to Ghadamis and the oasis of Twat. Between the latter and Timbuktu lay the wild wastes of the Sahara—never trodden by man without extreme risk of encounter with plunder and bloodshed-loving nomads, and death from thirst or privation. Even these factors of an African journey had their wild attraction for men of Laing’s temperament, adding a sauce piquante, as it were, to the otherwise monotonous march and daily routine of worry and privation. To such, too, the frowning immensity of the Sahara—the frightful desolation which marks its every feature—and the flaming sun and lurid heavens that hang above it, have elements which strike them with the profoundest feelings of awe, and leave an indelible impress on their minds.

For sixteen days after leaving Twat, Laing underwent all these sensations in their most striking form; and that his experiences of desert travel might be complete, he was attacked at night by a party of Tuareg marauders, and left for dead, with no less than twenty-four wounds. Thanks, however, to the secret elixir of heroic minds and the soundness of his constitution, he miraculously recovered, and undismayed, continued his way to Timbuktu, which was reached on the 18th August 1826.

Laing was the first European who had ever entered that historic city, which for four centuries had been the loadstone of kings, merchants, and savants. He arrived in an unhappy hour. Only a short time before the first waves of the approaching tide of Fulah influence had entered the region of the Upper Niger. Already Timbuktu had felt its strange power, though resenting the political position usurped by the ministers of the new revival.

For a month Laing was allowed to remain unmolested. Then he was ordered to leave the city of the Faithful. There was no resisting the mandate, and he passed forth on the 22nd September, only to be foully murdered two days later by the people who had undertaken to escort him across the desert. With him unfortunately perished the records of his observations and inquiries.

Two years later, CaillÉ, a somewhat illiterate, though persevering and intrepid Frenchman, entered the city from which Laing had been driven forth. Years before, this young explorer, in his far-off French home, had heard the echoes of African enterprise. Inflamed with the romantic story, he had seen by the blank maps of the continent how much there was to be done, and what fame there was to be acquired by him who could make his mark on those still virgin sheets. To be an African traveller became thenceforth the object of his life. For years he dreamed of and prepared himself for the work. But it was one thing to dream of—one thing even to reach the threshold of new lands—and quite another to penetrate them, as he soon found. Time after time his hopes, when almost at the point of realisation, were rudely dashed to the ground; but uncrushed, he waited his time and opportunity, though without private means, and conscious that the ears of the wealthy and the powerful were deaf to his schemes and representations.

But while CaillÉ dreamed and petitioned he also worked. As a subordinate official under the Government of Sierra Leone, he was enabled by dint of economy and industry to save the sum of £80. To him this slender sum appeared the “open sesame” of fame and fortune. It was the instrument whereby he should open the oyster shell, and gain the priceless pearl within.

On the 19th April 1827, CaillÉ left Kakundy, on the River Nunez, and midway between Sierra Leone and the Gambia, in the company of a small caravan of Mandingoes. Travelling east, he crossed the country of Futa Jallon, through which northward ran the upper tributaries of the Senegal, and eastward those of the Niger. The latter river was reached at Kurusa, in the district of Kankan, and was found to be even there a fine stream from eight to ten feet deep.

Having crossed the Niger, he continued east to the country of Wasulu, a well cultivated and thickly inhabited region. Thence he travelled north-east, till at length he again reached the banks of the Niger, a short distance to the west of JennÉ. This town he was the first European to enter, though Park had seen it on his last journey.

From JennÉ, CaillÉ sailed down the Niger in a rudely built vessel of considerable dimensions to Kabara, the port of Timbuktu, whence he proceeded on horseback to the city itself.

The aspect of Timbuktu in nowise realised the glowing anticipations of the traveller. Instead of the wealthy and powerful city, touched with the glamour of the shining orient, which he had been taught to expect, there lay before him only a collection of miserable mud buildings, among which rose several mosques, looking imposing only in comparison with the rude huts around them. To the north-east and south spread the immensity of the great desert as one vast plain of burning, repellent sands, over which the silence of death brooded, except where pariah dogs or loathsome vultures feasted on the carrion or offal thrown out of the town. Such was the place in which Commerce had established her Central African emporium, and gathered together the trading veins and arteries which ramified more or less throughout the whole of North-eastern Africa. Here, too, amid these dreary wastes, Moslem learning had made her seat; and here the religion of Islam had found an abiding centre from which to radiate its influence into the most barbarous depths of negro Africa.

Seen thus in relation to its surroundings, its position, and its functions, the mud huts and rudely built mosques which compose it acquire a tinge of the sublime, and strike the imagination more even than the stupendous wonders of a London or a Paris.

For a fortnight CaillÉ—secure in his disguise—remained in Timbuktu, after which he set forth with a caravan to cross the desert to Morocco. Along no other part of the Sahara does the desert appear in such a terror-striking aspect. Through one tract the caravan had to travel with all possible expedition for ten days, not a drop of water being obtainable. The privations endured were indescribable, men and animals alike being reduced to the direst extremity before water was reached and their tortures assuaged. Further north similar experiences awaited them, till the caravan arrived at the River Dra. Thence the march was performed with comparative comfort by way of Tafilet and the Atlas to Fez and Tangier, where CaillÉ arrived on the 18th August 1828.

With Lander’s descent of the Niger from Bussa to the sea, the course of Niger enterprise received a new development and impetus. The glowing accounts brought back by its explorers of the rich lands and powerful civilised kingdoms through which it flowed found eager hearers in England; and now that an entrance had been found by which the heart of these promising regions could be reached, such hearers were not slow to act and test in a practical fashion the commercial value of the great waterway.

In this new movement Macgregor Laird, of Liverpool, was the leading spirit. Under his instructions two steamers were specially constructed for the work. Laird himself took command, and with him were associated Lander, and Lieutenant Allen of the navy, with Dr. Briggs and Mr. Oldfield as medical attendants.

Hardly had the party entered the Nun branch of the river, in August 1832, when the malaria commenced its ravages, causing the death of a captain and two seamen. The first business of the expedition was to find a suitable navigable channel among the many bewildering branches, creeks, and backwaters which spread a labyrinthine network over the delta, whose mangrove swamps were “uninviting when descried, repulsive when approached, dangerous when examined, and horrible and loathsome when their qualities and their inhabitants were known.” Here the air reeked with the essence of poisonous odours—damp, clammy, and deadly; and the nights were made hideous by the never-ceasing attacks of clouds of mosquitoes and sandflies.

For six weeks Laird was engaged in his exploration of the delta, with the result that eighteen men succumbed to fever. For a time the expedition threatened to end in the death of the entire party, hardly one escaping the dire effects of the malaria. But Laird and his companions were men not easily discouraged or defeated, and at length they got away from the deadly area, and reached the undivided river and healthier upper regions. It was like an escape from a loathsome purgatory to an earthly paradise, when the party sailed into the open reaches of the noble stream, barred in by tropic forest and swept by cooling breezes. Viewed commercially,however, the prospect proved somewhat unsatisfactory, and did not correspond with the glowing hopes with which the party had left England. There was no thought, however, of giving way to the first feeling of disappointment, and in the belief that matters would improve once beyond the barbarous zone, they continued their way up the river. Unfortunately, they had chosen the wrong time of the year to make the ascent. Already the river was falling. More than once the larger of the two steamers grounded on sand-banks, and finally had to be laid up till the rising of the waters should set in once more. Attempts to reach Rabba signally failed, though Laird ascended the BenuÉ some distance in a boat.

In the following season Oldfield and Lander were more successful. The BenuÉ was ascended to a distance of 104 miles before they were compelled to return from want of supplies. On the Main Niger they were also more fortunate than in the previous year. Rabba was safely reached, and found to contain a population little short of 40,000, being at that time the capital of NupÉ.

Beyond Rabba it was found impossible to proceed, and it was deemed advisable to return to the coast, to recruit and prepare for another attempt to establish a trade in the river.

This new venture, however, ended in disaster. On the way back Lander was shot, and was only kept alive till Fernando Po was reached. With him ended for the time being Macgregor Laird’s enterprise. Though carried out with splendid persistence and self-sacrifice, its results were sadly negative, while out of the forty-nine Europeans who had been engaged in it only nine survived the fevers.

For several years nothing more was done to turn what was only too well named “the white man’s grave” to further account. In 1840, however, Governor Beecroft ascended the river to within thirty miles of Bussa, and got back without much loss of life, though adding but little to our knowledge of the geography of the region.

Meanwhile philanthropists were as much interested in the opening up of the Niger basin to European influence as was the commercial world. Laird’s expedition, though having trade as its primary object, “hoped also to aid in suppressing the slave trade, in introducing true religion, civilisation, and humanising influences among natives whose barbarism had hitherto been only heightened by European connection.”

These unselfish aims were further emphasised in 1841, when the Government, still undaunted by the fatal character of the work, sent out three steamers with the object of making treaties with the Niger chiefs for the suppression of the slave trade. A model farm was to be established at the confluence of the BenuÉ and the main river, to teach the natives better methods of agriculture, and generally the foundations were to be laid of the great British Empire of which M‘Queen had dreamed. Thus, in some small way, expiation was to be made for the sins of earlier generations. Everything that science and forethought could suggest was done to make this expedition a success, but unhappily no way had yet been found to ward off the insidious attacks of malaria, or counteract the effects of the fever germs once they had gained a footing in the system. The result was death and disaster. No higher point than Egga was reached, and that only by one steamer. Out of one hundred and forty-five men, forty-eight died within the two months the vessels were in the river.

The project of turning the Niger to profitable account, in the face of such frightful mortality and deadly climatic conditions, seemed now to be utterly hopeless. From Major Houghton downwards, death by violence, privation, or disease had been the fate of whoever had attempted to open it up to European influence. No other river had such a romantic history of heroic self-sacrifice—none such a martyr roll—none such a record of heroism and precious blood apparently uselessly thrown away.

Was it really all in vain? Was neither the European nor the native to derive any benefit from the exploration of this silvery streak through the beautiful West Coast Highlands, the densely populated plains of Sego and Massina, the depopulated half desert wilderness of Songhay and Gandu, the forest depths of Igara and Ado, and the mangrove swamps around the Bight of Benin. Were Park, Clapperton, Lander, and all the other explorers of the Niger basin, only to be remembered in future ages for the heroic virtues they had shown, and not as the pioneers of a new era of hope to the African—the founders of a great national enterprise, bright with promise alike to Britain and to Africa?

The thought of such an ending was not to be entertained without reluctance, yet it seemed inevitable. Savage opposition and ordinary physical difficulties might in time be overcome, but who could fight against the disease which lurked unseen in the foetid depths of mangrove forests, and filled the air with its poisonous germs? Who could avoid the incurable blight of its deadly breath?

Already such questions had been asked, when the failure of Tuckey’s expedition gave pause for a time to Niger exploration, till Clapperton and Denham, attacking the region from the rear, had made the despondent once more hopeful. Strangely enough, the recurrence of the same crisis brought with it a similar cure.

In 1849 an expedition set forth from Tripoli, under Government auspices this time, commanded by Richardson, and Drs. Barth and Overweg.

The frontiers of Bornu were safely reached, and here the party divided—never to meet again. Richardson and Overweg went the way of Toole and Oudney, and only Barth was left to carry out the objects of the expedition. Right worthily he performed his task. Never before had such a rich harvest of geographical, historical, ethnographical, and philological facts been gathered in the African field of research.

From Kanem to Timbuktu, from Tripoli to Adamawa, he laid the land under contribution. Vain would it be in the restricted space of these pages to follow him in his wonderful travels. It may be noted, however, that while travelling south-west from Kuka in Bornu to the Fulah province of Adamawa, he reached on the 18th June 1851 the river BenuÉ, at its junction with the Faro, and 415 geographical miles in a direct line from its confluence with the Niger. Not since leaving Europe had he seen so large and imposing a river. Even at this distant point the BenuÉ, or “Mother of Waters,” is half a mile broad, and runs with a swift current to the west. It was said to rise nine days’ journey to the south-east, while the Faro came from a mountain seven days’ journey distant.

Only second in importance to his discovery of the BenuÉ so far to the east of the Niger, was his exploration of the great bend of the Niger itself.

Travelling from Bornu, he passed west through Sokoto and Gandu to the Niger at Say, some distance above the point where the Gulbi-n-Gindi from Sokoto joins the main river.

From Say he travelled in a north-easterly direction across the great bend, among wild Tuareg tribes, and the romantic mountains of Hombori, to Timbuktu. Thence he once more returned to the safer Haussa States along the river banks, whereon no European eye save Park’s had ever before rested. Here he was in the centre of the once wonderful Songhay Empire, of which the sole relics left after the destructive blows of Moor, Tuareg, and Fulah, were a few miserable villages, whose inhabitants eked out a wretched existence, equally ground down by drought and the ravages of human marauders.

One result of Barth’s discovery of the BenuÉ so near Lake Chad was the despatch of another expedition, to determine if possible the navigability of the river, a point which previous attempts had failed to settle satisfactorily.

Macgregor Laird was again the leading spirit in this new enterprise, and anything that past experience could suggest was taken advantage of to ensure a successful trip. Dr. Baikie, R.N., and D. J. May, R.N., went as surveying officers and leaders, several other gentlemen being associated with them. This in some respects was the most successful of the Government surveying expeditions, for it not only explored and surveyed the BenuÉ for a distance of 340 miles, but returned without any special loss of life.

With this trip practically closed our Government’s participation in the work of opening up the Niger. Thenceforth it contented itself with sending from time to time a gunboat into the river on some punitive mission, but no special attempts were made to further enlighten the world as to its geography and resources. Henceforth all such work was left to private enterprise, Government remaining aloof, disposed neither to encourage nor discourage, but clearly satisfied that nothing of importance could be made of a partially navigable river, flowing through a country of seemingly no great commercial capabilities, and with a climate which made colonisation out of the question, and even a residence, however short, almost impossible to the average European.