On Frail Bridges

1895

STREAMS IN WEST AFRICA THAT WERE HARD TO CROSS.

Adventures of an Explorer and His Party. Plodding Through Forest and Swamp While Weakened by Hunger — From Limb to Limb Across a Raging River.

One of the greatest annoyances explorers in tropical Africa meet is the swollen rivers which sometimes bar their advance at places where it is difficult, if not impossible, to obtain boats. The expedition which the Germans sent into the interior of Cameroons, west Africa, awhile ago, suffered unusual embarrassment from this cause, and once or twice their experience on the banks of raging torrents was a little thrilling.

Lieutenant Morgen was the leader of this party. For seven days he led his men through the dense woods between the sea and the upland plains of the interior. It was a most toilsome march along the narrow path where fallen logs and protruding roots rendered rapid progress impossible. Even at midday the column marched in twilight, for the thick, overhanging foliage shut out the sunlight. Morgen expected to emerge from the forest belt in four days, but he was still in the gloom of the forest at the end of seven days. The situation was serious, for provisions were running low, but Morgen knew he was near a land of plenty, and he was not seriously alarmed when, on the evening of the seventh day, the porters ate up the last of the rice, which was their main food supply. He expected early next day to be able fully to replenish his commissary department.

What was his dismay next morning to reach the bank of a river which was in strong flood and could not be forded. There were no natives in the neighborhood, and of course no boats were to be seen. He was overjoyed to find, however, that a little up stream the channel narrowed to about 90 feet, and that on the bank grew a mighty cottonwood tree that was fully 90 feet high. The best choppers in the party were detailed to convert this tree into a temporary bridge. They began chopping on both sides of the trunk, the cut on the river side being lower and deeper than on the other side, so that the tree would fall across the river.

The men were hungry enough while they were waiting, for they had had no breakfast, but at last, after four hours' hard work, the great tree inclined toward the river, and a cheer went up as it fell with a crash into the stream. Then the cheer became a cry of dismay as the men saw their bridge rolled over by the raging flood, and in less than a minute the top turned down stream, and the tree was soon out of sight around a bend in the river.

Here was indeed a dilemma. The 80 hungry men knew that a few miles away there was food in plenty. But they did not dare to fire their guns for fear of alarming the natives and driving them away instead of securing their aid. There was nothing to do except to send small parties up and down the river in search of a native bridge. Five men were dispatched in both directions. In an hour one party returned with the report that they had encountered a swamp which they could not cross. The fate of the expedition now depended upon the success of the other party. Morgen was at his wits' end, for he knew not what to do if no means of crossing the river were found. Retreat to the coast was impossible, and some of the men would certainly perish if the party were delayed for several days on this inhospitable river bank. Fortunately no such crisis occurred, for just as the party were beginning to despair one of Morgen's faithful followers burst through the bush and gladdened every heart with the cry:

"We have found a bridge."

A hearty cheer went up, and everybody forgot his hunger as he shouldered his load and fell into line. Through the brush they struggled up stream, and at last they reached one of those suspension bridges made by twisting together the long, tough stems of climbing plants that are occasionally found in tropical west Africa. It was a flimsy construction, like all those affairs, and the men looked at it dubiously. The sun was setting as the first three men passed over with their loads. As the second detachment was crossing some of the withes forming the floor broke, two men dropped through, and their loads were lost. The broken bridge was hastily repaired, and just as darkness fell the last man reached the other side. It was impossible to go farther, and here the foodless men camped for the night.

By daybreak they were on the march. The men were so weak that some of them were continually falling under their loads. They had to flounder through a wide marsh in which they sank to their hips. It was noon before they emerged from the gloomy forest and once more saw the blue sky, but a more joyous sight by far was the scores of flourishing gardens of the Yaunde tribe. The starving men spent several days recuperating in this garden spot before they resumed their march.

A few weeks later Lieutenant Morgen stood on the banks of the Mbam river, whose upper course he was the first white man to see. The only sign of life as he reached the new found river was two natives in canoes on the farther shore, who quickly disappeared in an inlet when they saw him. Hour after hour the party lingered on the shore, seeking in vain to communicate with the natives. Canoes must be obtained some way or other. At last after night had fallen Lieutenant Morgen called for volunteers to swim across the river and look for canoes. It was not an inviting undertaking, and some time elapsed before two men came forward to risk their lives in the service of all. Wooden floats were given to them to buoy them up on their journey of a quarter of a mile, and then they disappeared in the darkness.

This was another very anxious time for the leader, and he passed a sleepless night in is tent. Just as day was faintly breaking he heard the dipping of paddles. His faithfuls had arrived with two canoes, and they urged him to send them back with a party to a place where five more canoes might be obtained. An hour later seven great canoes were in camp, and to the astonishment of the natives the white expedition came over to their country in the borrowed boats, which were restored to their owners, with plenty of pay for their use. — New York Sun.


She Objected.

"You stole that kiss," said Miss Northside reproachfully after the theft had been accomplished.

"Oh, well," replied Mr. Van Braam cheerfully, "I'll return it!"

"I won't accept it! Do you suppose I would leave myself open to the charge of receiving stolen goods?" — Pittsburg Chronicle.