LETTER III

LETTER III.

BANCE ISLAND,¹ Feb. 10, 1791

My dear Friend,

We sailed the very day I wrote you from Portsmouth, and our passage was unusually quick, being only eighteen days from thence to this place.² The novelty of a ship ploughing the trackless ocean in a few days became quite familiar to me; there was such a sameness in every thing (for some birds were all we saw the whole way) that I found the voyage tiresome, notwithstanding the shortness of it.

You will readily believe my heart was gladdened at the sight of the mountains of Sierra Leone, which was the land we first made. Those mountains appear to rise gradually from the sea to a stupendious [sic] height, richly wooded and beautifully ornamented by the hand of nature, with a variety of delightful prospects.

Like those before her and everyone who has approached since by sea, Anna Maria waxes poetic over the sight of this landfall as it rises emerald-green from the Atlantic surf. The Sierra Leone peninsula is a mountainous ridge some 2,000 feet high that juts up out of the ocean, its highest altitudes at the northern edge beside the broad estuary of the Rokel River. Once over the ridge the rolling hills slope gradually to the south shore—all of it upholstered in a thick green blanket of airless tropical forest fringed here and there by blazing white sand. The entire peninsula is effectively cut off from the mainland by wide stretches of mangrove swamp, making boats the only means of traveling upcountry.

I was vastly pleased while sailing up the river, for the rapidity of the ship through the water afforded a course of new scenery almost every moment, till we cast anchor here. Now and then I saw the glimpse of a native town, but from the distance, and new objects hastily catching my eye, was not able to form a judgment or idea of any of them; but this will be no loss as I may have frequent opportunities of visiting some of them hereafter.

As soon as our anchor was dropped, Captain McLean saluted Bance Island with seven guns, which not being returned, I enquired the cause, and was told [that] the last time the Duke of Bucleugh came out, she as is customary saluted, and on the fort returning the compliment, a wad was drove by the force of the sea breeze upon the roof of one of the houses (which was then of thatch), set fire to the building, and consumed not only the house but goods to a large amount.

When the ceremony of saluting was over, Captain McLean and Mr. W. Falconbridge³ went on shore, but being late in the evening, I continued on board 'till next day.

Here we met the cutter. She sailed some time before us from Europe, and had been arrived two or three weeks. The master of her and several of the people to whose assistance Mr. Falconbridge is come, and who had taken refuge here, came to visit us.

Anna Maria does not know quite what to make of the ragtag stream of blacks who climb over the side. They look so derelict—hair untrimmed, their minimal clothing in tatters, their feet unshod—that it’s hard to believe that they could be respectable people. She knows that a private Committee for the Relief of the Black Poor, made up of bankers, merchants, and politicians in England had collected funds and provided charity where they could for the impoverished free blacks who roamed the streets of London after the American Revolution. The British had promised freedom to any blacks belonging to American colonists who escaped to the British lines and supported them against the rebellious Americans. The loss of the War for Independence brought thousands of these freed blacks to England. When the Committee for their relief could not find adequate funds to support them in England, they lobbied Parliament and won a government commitment to pay £14 each to transport any who wished to become part of a settlement in West Africa.⁴

Alexander must have had many questions for their visitors, learning very quickly that their English is hard to understand.

"How many are you all-told?"

"Jus’ us few here, but they’s lots more in Pa Boson’s town." A vague wave in a southerly direction.

"How many?"

A Shrug. "Mebbe 30, 40."

"But 459 people came in the three transport ships with a naval sloop for protection—344 blacks and 115 whites."

Another shrug. Falconbridge looks around at the master of the Lapwing, who stands nearby. He steps forward. "I’ve been making some inquiries while we’ve waited for you to arrive."

"Do you know what’s happened to the artisans and the clergyman and the doctor who came out with them?"

The master nodded. "Most of them are dead or have found work somewhere else. Elliott Griffith is in Robana and is King Naimbana’s scribe now."

"Griffith? Black or white?"

"One of the free blacks. He was apparently taken up by Mr. Granville Sharp and given some education in London."

Falconbridge nodded. "It’s the kind of thing Sharp would do—he’s England’s leading abolitionist and a founding member of the Committee for the Relief of the Black Poor."

"Well, they named their town after him—Granville Town in the Province of Freedom. He apparently made very rash promises to them—farms for everyone. Their own government—every ten families to elect a tithingman—to keep the peace and settle disputes. Every hundred families to elect a hundredor. The hundredors would make the laws. They were to have no outside overseers or police, but to govern themselves exactly as they saw fit."

"So what happened?"

"Well, Sir, things don’t work the same in Africa as they do back home. Capt’n Thompson⁵—the naval officer who brought them here—palavered with King Tom down by the harbor. He paid him £60-worth of muskets, powder and ball, lead and iron bars,⁶ laced hats, rum, tobacco, cloth, and beads as rent for the Province of Freedom—a 20-square-mile piece of land bordering the harbor. But Capt’n Thompson should have palavered with King Naimbana.⁷ He’s the big chief. King Tom’s just a small chief down there by the harbor."

"Well, we’ll talk with King Naimbana now."

The master talked on as though Falconbridge had not interrupted him. "They arrived here at the wrong time of year. They was supposed to come in the fall—that’s the beginning of the growing season here—but were delayed for weeks. They didn’t leave until February, got here in May. That ain’t the right time for planting because the big rains begin then.⁸ They couldn’t plant gardens. They had no adequate shelter to keep them dry. Capt’n Thompson give them old canvas, but the rain and wind flattened all the tents they made. What food they had molded and rotted in the heat. A lot of them got sick and died."⁹

"Bad show."

"Yes, Sir. And you know, Sir, the slave traders didn’t much like them being there, watching their ships sailing by. They spread all kinds of rumors among the Africans. The slave agent at Bunce Island offered arms to the local chiefs to oppose the settlement. A showdown came after five Granville Town settlers robbed the store of the slave factory¹⁰ on Bunce Island. They was arrested and turned over to the Bunce Island factor to stand trial. Their sentence was banishment, and the factor promptly sold them to a French slaver leavin’ for the West Indies."

Falconbridge shook his head in dismay.

"And then King Tom died," the master continued. "King Jemmy—his village is a little further along the shore—was already mad at English ship captains—claimed they stole things from him.¹¹ Now he could get even. He announced that King Tombo’s treaty with the English was no longer valid. He send a messenger to Granville Town. ‘You got three days to remove yourselves to safety.’ Then his warboys attacked Granville Town, what little there was left of it. The settlers fled up the river."

Word of the gradual disintegration of Granville Town traveled slowly back to England. Granville Sharp abandoned his naive dream of a peaceful, pastoral settlement and in 1790 sought venture capital from prosperous English merchants and gentlemen, who formed the St. George’s Bay Company¹² to trade in West Africa. The directors in turn dispatched Alexander Falconbridge to rally the scattered settlers. In normal circumstances, his wife would have been left behind in England. Anna Maria had no intention of staying behind, and now she has met the remnants of the Granville Town settlers.

They represented their sufferings to have been very great; that they had been treacherously dealt with by one King Jemmy, who had drove them away from the ground they occupied, burnt their houses, and otherwise devested [sic] them of every comfort and necessary of life. They also threw out some reflections against the Agent of this island—said he had sold several of their fellow sufferers to a Frenchman, who had taken them to the West Indies.

Mr. Falconbridge, however, was not the least inclined to give entire confidence to what they told us; but prudently suspended his opinion until he had made further enquiries.

Those visitors being gone, we retired to bed—I cannot say to rest; the heat was so excessive that I scarcely slept at all.

It’s March in Sierra Leone—the end of the long dry season. No rain has fallen since November, so that every leaf and blade of grass is brown with dust. The tropical sun beats down relentlessly. The temperature barely drops at night. The sleeping cabins on the Duke of Bucleugh have only tiny portholes, providing little ventilation. The nightly coupling in the Falconbridge cabin is a sweaty, slippery exercise that leaves Anna Maria longing for a bath, but the pail of salt water pulled over the side the next morning for her to wash in leaves her skin still sticky.

She thinks back to her stepmother, overseeing her father’s house in Bristol. Opinionated on many subjects, she had been broad-minded on the subject of baths, regarding them as a privilege rather than an indulgence or an aberration. She pooh-poohed the idea that a bath in winter was deleterious to the health.

On the Duke of Bucleugh Anna Maria has no lady’s maid. Does she wash her sundries in salt water and hang them in the rigging? Does she scrub the blood out of the linen used during her menses? Who empties her chamber pot over the side each morning? The cabin boy?

The following day we received a polite invitation to dine on shore, which I did not object to, although harassed for want of sleep the night before.

Keep in mind that the Duke of Bucleugh is owned by the Anderson brothers of Philpot Lane in London, who also own the slave factory on Bunce Island.

At dinner the conversation turned upon the slave trade. Mr. Falconbridge, zealous for the cause in which he is engaged, strenuously opposed every argument his opponents advanced in favour of the abominable trade.¹³ The glass went briskly round, and the gentlemen growing warm, I retired immediately as the cloath [sic] was removed.

When the gentlemen have drunk too heavily and begin arguing too heatedly, Anna Maria retreats to her cabin aboard the Duke of Bucleugh and calms her annoyance by writing in her journal. She remembers how charming Falconbridge was when she first met him, but the charm is erased now behind his angry mouth and flashing eyes. She would like to chastise him, suggest that he refuse another and another and another glass of wine, but she reminds herself that this is a travel book. Her own emotions are not appropriate here. She chooses very carefully the terms in which she voices her dismay. She has been very circumspect up to this point, but her patience is wearing thin, and she records that small fact.

The people on the island crowded to see me; they gazed with apparent astonishment—I suppose at my dress, for white women could not be a novelty to them as there were several among the unhappy people sent out here by government, one of whom is now upon the island.

Among the first settlers of Granville town were a number of women, whom the African women were certainly acquainted with. They were, however, of the English working class (or worse, as Anna Maria will relate later) and certainly would not have been dressed in any elegance. Anna Maria, prizing her husband’s status, wears her most stylish gown with gloves and parasol to this first meeting on Bunce Island. The factors may be slave traders, but they are also ruddy-faced young Englishmen—and the only white men on a hundred miles of tropical coast.

Seeing so many of my own sex, though of different complexions from myself, attired in their native garbs, was a scene equally new to me, and my delicacy, I confess, was not a little hurt at times. Many among them appeared of superior rank, at least I concluded so from the preferable way in which they were clad; nor was I wrong in my conjecture, for upon enquiring who they were, was informed one was the woman or mistress of Mr.—---, another of Mr. B—---, ¹⁴and so on. I then understood that every gentleman on the island had his lady.

How oblique Anna Maria is in introducing the African women. They have "different complexions" from hers. Nor does she elaborate on "native garbs." Even today the country women in Sierra Leone wear only wrap-arounds fastened at the waist, with strings of beads festooning their bare breasts. Those African women Anna Maria saw "of superior rank" were probably wearing silk or taffeta wrap-arounds, rather than plain cotton, with perhaps a shawl of some sort, but they too would have been bare-breasted. How daintily Anna Maria indicates that she is shocked: her "delicacy" is "hurt."

For European women, the first sight of bare breasts takes a few days of getting used to, although eventually one barely notices, except for recognizing how quickly each woman’s breasts are flattened after childbirth by the practice of carrying babies slung on their backs, held by a length of cloth tied over the breasts. Indeed, many young women deliberately bind their breasts before they have children in an attempt to appear fertile.

Anna Maria is fascinated by every detail of the Africans' adornment or lack thereof. Her observations are, of course, totally ethnocentric. How could it be otherwise, considering the era in which she lived? It is easy to picture her garbed from neck to toe in the decorous European gowns of the time, arms covered to the wrists, skirts sweeping the dirt, bonnet or parasol shading her pale complexion from the fierce tropical sun. She is shocked at the nudity of the African women, mistaking their casual comfort for a lack of modesty, and firmly convinced that their health suffers from such wholesale exposure to the fetid tropical air. She will never know that the flannel stomach wrappings and woolen underclothing cherished by the Europeans as protection against African maladies were no more a barrier to malaria and dysentery than the malodorous palm oil with which the Africans daily rubbed their bodies.

While I was thus entertaining myself with my new acquaintances, two or three of the gentlemen left their wine and joined me. Among them was Mr. Ballingall the Agent,¹⁵ who, in a very friendly manner, begged I would take a bed on shore. [How stimulated these white hermits must have been by the company of a well dressed, ripe young European female!] I thanked him, and said, if agreeable to Mr. Falconbridge, I would have no objection; however, Falconbridge objected, and gave me for reason that he had been unhandsomely treated and was determined to go on board the Lapwing, for he would not subject himself to any obligation to men possessing such diabolical sentiments.

Captain McLean offloads his trade goods for the factor’s use and takes on his cargo of 358 slaves¹⁶ as quickly as possible and sets sail for America. The Falconbridges have vacated their cabin aboard the Duke of Bucleugh. Anna Maria chews the nib of her pen and considers the irony of having traveled from England to Sierra Leone in the relative comfort of a slave ship, but now that Falconbridge has quarreled over dinner with his hosts on Bunce Island, he is not going to permit his wife to sleep in a comfortable bed in the factory on shore. There is no point in arguing with him when he is in his cups, but she records her feelings about his intransigence and about the shortcomings of the Sierra Leone Company cutter Lapwing. After all, they did not choose to endure the Lapwing’s cramped quarters on the outward voyage. Why must she endure them now?

Anna Maria will tell her husband off when he is sober again. In the meantime, she hides her journal in her trunk under her clothes to prevent Falconbridge from finding it and reading of her outrage.

It was not proper for me to contradict him at that moment as the heat of argument and the influence of an over portion of wine had quickened and disconcerted his temper. I therefore submitted without making any objection to come on board this tub of a vessel, which in point of size and cleanliness comes nigher a hog-trough than any thing else you can imagine.¹⁷ Though I resolved to remonstrate the first seasonable opportunity and to point out the likelihood of endangering my health should he persist to keep me in so confined a place.

This remonstrance I made the next morning after passing a night of torment, but to no purpose. The only consolation I got was—as soon as the settlers could be collected, he would have a house built on shore where they were to be fixed.

I honestly own [that] my original resolution of firmness was now warped at what I foresaw I was doomed to suffer by being imprisoned, God knows how long, in a place so disgusting as this was in my opinion at that time. Conceive yourself pent up in a floating cage, without room to walk about, stand erect, or even to lay at length; exposed to the inclemency of the weather, having your eyes and ears momently [sic] offended by acts of indecency and language too horrible to relate—add to this a complication of filth, the stench from which was continually assailing your nose, and then you will have a faint notion of the Lapwing Cutter.

However, upon collecting myself and recollecting [that] there was no remedy but to make the best of my situation, I begged the master (who slept upon deck in consequence of my coming on board) to have his cabin thoroughly cleaned and washed with vinegar; intreated Falconbridge to let me go on shore while it was doing—hinted at the indecencies I saw and heard, and was promised they would be prevented in future.

First mate: Mrs. Bloody Falconbridge’ll be sleepin’ on board hereafter.

Second mate: ‘ell. They ain’t room on board the Lapwing for Mrs. Bloody Falconbridge. Ain’t but the one cabin.

First mate: Capt’n’ll sleep on deck w’the rest of us.

Second mate: ‘ell.

First mate: Mrs. Bloody Falconbridge wants the whole bloody ship t’smell as sweet as her own fuckin’ boodwar.

Second mate: She ain’t gonna make us all take baths, is she?

First mate: Prob’ly. Tell the tars t’watch their bloody language when she’s on board.

Second mate: ‘ell.

First mate: And no pissin’ over the side when she’s on deck.

Second mate: Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell.

With this assurance I went on shore, not a little elated at the reprieve I was to enjoy for a few hours. The gentlemen received me with every mark of attention and civility; indeed, I must be wanting in sensibility if my heart did not warm with gratitude to Messrs. Ballingall and Tilly for their kindnesses to me. The latter gentleman, I am informed, will succeed to the agency of the island; he is a genteel young man and I am told very deservedly a favourite with his employers.

Does Anna Maria flirt a little with these Englishmen? She is 21 years old, and must certainly have been fit, supple, and comely. How could it be otherwise?

She blossoms when the factors make a fuss over her. It never occurs to her to see them as interlopers, gamblers building their forts on those placid rivers, rolling dice for human bodies to fill the holds of English cargo ships. Alexander Falconbridge may have grown accustomed to her attractions, and he is emerging from between the lines as the heavy in this tale—angry, opinionated, and lacking in romantic sensibilities. In contrast, the open admiration and generous compliments expressed by Mr. Tilly and Mr. Ballingall seem to Anna Maria the height of cultivated refinement.

Mr. Falconbridge this day sent a message to Elliotte Griffiths,¹⁸ the secretary of Naimbana, who is the King of Sierra Leone, acquainting him with the purport of his mission, and begging to know when he may be honoured with an audience of his Majesty.

In the evening he received an answer, of which the following is a copy:

ROBANA TOWN

King Naimbana's compliments to Mr. Falconbridge, and will be glad to see him to tomorrow.

(Signed) A.E. GRIFFITHS, Sec.

Such an immediate answer from a King, I considered a favorable omen and a mark of condescension in his Majesty, but the result you shall hear by and by. In the meanwhile, I must tell you what passed the remainder of the day at Bance Island, and give as far as my ideas allow me a description of this factory. We sat down to dinner with the same party as the first day, consisting of about fifteen in number. This necessary ceremony ended, and towards the cool of the afternoon, I proposed walking for a while. Mr. Tilly and a Mr. Barber offered to accompany and show me the island, which not being objected to, we set out.

Adam's Town was the first place they took me to. It is so called from a native of that name who has the management of all the gramattos, or free black servants, but under the controul of the Agent. The whole town consists of a street with about twenty-five houses on each side:—on the right of all is Adam's house. This building does not differ from the rest except in size, being much more spacious than any other and being barracaded with a mud wall. All of them are composed of thatch, wood, and clay, something resembling our poor cottages in many parts of England.

I went into several of them—saw nothing that did not discover the occupiers to be very clean and neat; in some was a block or two of wood, which served for chairs,—a few wooden bowls or trenchers, and perhaps a pewter bason and an iron pot compleated [sic] the whole of their furniture.

In every house I was accosted by whoever we found at home, in the Timmany [Temne] language, Currea Yaa which signifies—How do you do mother?—the most respectful way they can address any person.

Leaving the town, we proceeded first to the burying ground for Europeans, and then to that for blacks;—the only distinction between them was a few orange trees that shaded two gravestones at the former,—one in memory of a Mr. Knight, who had died here after residing fifteen years as Agent;—the other was on the supposed grave of a Captain Tittle, who was murdered by one Signor Domingo,¹⁹ a native chief, for (as Domingo asserts) being the cause of his son's death.

The circumstance leading to the murder, as well as the murder itself, has been represented to me nearly in the following words: "One day while the son of Domingo was employed by Captain Tittle as a gramatto, or pull-away boy,²⁰ Tittle's hat by accident blew overboard, and he insisted that the boy should jump into the water and swim after it, as the only means of saving his hat.

"The boy obstinately refused, saying he could not swim, and he should either be drowned or the sharks would catch him; upon which Tittle pushed him into the water, and the poor boy was lost; but whether devoured by sharks, or suffocated by water, is immaterial, he was never heard of, or seen after.

"The father, though sorely grieved for his son's death, was willing to consider it accidental, and requested Tittle would supply him with a small quantity of rum to make a cry²¹ or lamentation in their country custom.

"The Captain, by promise, acquiesced to the demand and sent him a cask; but instead of spirits filled with emptyings from the tubs of his slaves.

"As soon as Domingo discovered this insult and imposition, he informed Tittle he must either submit to the decision of a Palaver,²² or he would put him to death if ever an opportunity offered; but Tittle laughed at these threats and disregarding them, vauntingly threw himself into the way of Domingo—while the trick played upon him and the loss of his son were fresh in his memory.

"The African, however, instead of being daunted at the sight of this headstrong man, soon convinced him he was serious. He had Tittle seized, and after confining him some time in irons without food, ordered him to be broken to death, which was executed under the inspection of the injured father and to the great joy and satisfaction of a multitude of spectators."

Not a sentence or hint of the affair is mentioned on the tombstone; the reason assigned for the omission was a wish to obliterate the melancholy catastrophe and a fear least the record might be the means of kindling animosities at a future day.

Now, although I cannot without horror contemplate on the untimely end of this man, yet he assuredly in some degree merited it if the account I have heard and just now related to you be true, which I have no reason to question. For he who unprovoked can wantonly rob a fellow creature of his life, deserves not life himself!²³

An incident like this gives the handful of Englishmen on the West Coast of Africa pause. When she is feeling anxious, Anna Maria thinks how few are their numbers, these aggressive European men defending their flimsy outposts against both their African neighbors and unidentified ships flying other flags. Other European merchants are driven by greed to poach slave cargoes wherever they can.

Anna Maria counts the battery of 50 cannon lined up in front of the stone fortress on the south shore of Bunce Island, pointing down the river.²⁴ How many men does it take to fire 50 cannon? There are certainly not enough white officials at the moment on Bunce Island. Are the cannon all functional? Who knows how to fire them? She assumes that adequate ammunition is stored nearby, but any attacker would be foolish to come up the river and try a frontal assault. What good would the cannon do if a concerted attack came from the rear?

From the catacombs which lay at the south-east end, we walked to the opposite point of the island. It is no great distance, for the whole island is very little more than a fourth of a mile in length, and scarcely a mile and a half in circumference. Several rocks lay at a small distance from the shore at this end; they are by the natives called the Devil's Rocks,—from the superstitious opinion that the old Gentleman resides either there or in the neighbourhood.

Sammo, King of the Bulloms, comes to this place once a year to make a sacrifice and peace-offering to his infernal Majesty. From this King [the] Messrs. Anderson's [sic] hold all their possessions here, and I understand they pay him an annual tribute but to what amount I cannot say.²⁵

The King comes in person to receive his dues, which are paid him in his canoe, for he never ventures to put his foot on shore, as his Gree Greemen or fortune-tellers²⁶ have persuaded him the island will sink under him, if ever he lands. I am told at one time he suffered himself to be dragged up to the Factory House in his boat, but no argument was strong enough to seduce him to disembark, for he did not consider he incurred the penalty his prophets denounced while he continued in his canoe; though he could not avoid shewing [sic] evident tokens of uneasiness till he was safe afloat again.

If Anna Maria had lived two centuries later, she would have matriculated at Bristol University and become an anthropologist. Her journal makes it clear that she is gifted with keen powers of observation and no compulsion to mince words in relating what she sees. Even in 1792, many of the observations in her journal come close to being ethnography—the second ethnography, after John Matthews’ A Voyage to the River Sierra Leone, of the Temne people of West Africa.²⁷

We now returned to the Factory, or as it is otherwise called Bance Island House. This building at a distance has a respectable and formidable appearance; nor is it much less so upon a nearer investigation. I suppose it is about one hundred feet in length, and thirty in breadth, and contains nine rooms, all on one floor, under which are commodious large cellars and store rooms; to the right is the kitchen, forge, &c. and to the left other necessary buildings, all of country stone, and surrounded with a prodigious thick lofty wall.

There was formerly a fortification in front of those houses, which was destroyed by a French frigate during the last war. At present several pieces of cannon are planted in the same place, but without embrassures or breastwork; behind the great house is the slave yard, and houses for accommodating the slaves.

Delicacy, perhaps, prevented the gentlemen from taking me to see them; but the room where we dined looks directly into the yard. Involuntarily I stroled [sic] to one of the windows a little before dinner, without the smallest suspicion of what I was to see;—judge then what my astonishment and feelings were at the sight of between two and three hundred wretched victims, chained and parcelled out in circles, just satisfying the cravings of nature from a trough of rice placed in the centre of each circle.

A well-bred lady would quickly avert her eyes from such a barbaric scene and pretend that she had not glimpsed it at all. Anna Maria knows this and apologizes for her fascination.

Offended modesty rebuked me with a blush for not hurrying my eyes from such disgusting scenes; but whether fascinated by female curiosity, or whatever else, I could not withdraw myself for several minutes—while I remarked some whose hair was withering with age, reluctantly tasting their food—and others thoughtless from youth, greedily devouring all before them. Be assured I avoided the prospects from this side of the house ever after.

Having prolonged the time 'till nine at night, we returned to our floating prison, and what with the assiduity of the master in removing many inconveniencies, my mind being more at ease, want of rest for two nights, and somewhat fatigued with the exercise of the day, I, thank God, slept charmingly, and the next morning we set sail for Robana, where we arrived about ten o'clock. I think it is called nine miles from Bance Island.

We went on shore, and rather caught his Majesty by surprize, for he was quite in dishabillé; and at our approach retired in great haste. I observed a person pass me in a loose white frock and trowsers [sic], whom I would not have suspected for a King! if he had not been pointed out to me.

Mr. Elliotte and the Queen met us; and after introducing her Majesty and himself, we were then conducted to her house. She behaved with much indifference,—told me in broken English that the King would come presently—he was gone to peginninee woman house to dress himself.

Anna Maria doesn’t know the meaning of this term, but it looks very much like "pickaninny"—a colloquialism derived from the Portuguese pequinola, meaning "small." ²⁸ Here the term probably refers to a young wife who has a babe in arms. (Babies in Freetown today are still called "pickins.") Anna Maria also introduces polygamy here, but she is still loathe to make direct reference to this custom so widely practiced in Africa.

After setting nigh half an hour, Naimbana made his appearance and received us with seeming good will. He was dressed in a purple embroidered coat, white sattin [sic] waistcoat and breeches, thread stockings, and his left side emblazoned with a flaming star; his legs to be sure were harliquined by a number of holes in the stockings, through which his black skin appeared.²⁹

"Harliquined by holes." Is there any doubt that Anna Maria is a born writer?

Compliments ended, Mr. Falconbridge acquainted him with his errand by a repetition of what he wrote the day before, and complained much of King Jemmy's injustice in driving the [Granville Town] settlers away and burning their town.

The King answered through Elliotte (for he speaks but little English) that Jemmy was partly right—the people had brought it on themselves. They had taken part with some Americans with whom Jemmy had a dispute, and through that means drew the ill will of this man upon them, who had behaved, considering their conduct, as well as they merited. For he gave them three days notice before he burned their town that they might remove themselves and all their effects away; that he (Naimbana) could not prudently re-establish them, except by consent of all the Chiefs—for which purpose he must call a court or palaver; but it would be seven or eight days before they could be collected. However he would send a summons to the different parties directly and give Falconbridge timely advice when they were to meet.

Falconbridge perceived clearly nothing was to be effected without a palaver, and unless the King's interest was secured, his views would be frustrated and his endeavours ineffectual; but how this was to be done, or what expedient to adopt, he was at a loss for. He considered it impolitic to purchase his patronage by heavy presents least the other great men might expect the same; and he had it not in his power to purchase them all in the same way, as the scanty cargo of the Lapwing would not admit of it.

At length, trusting that the praise-worthy purposes he was aiming at insured him the assistance of the King of Kings, he resolved to try what good words would do. Having prefaced his arguments with a small donation of some rum, wine, a cheese, and a gold laced hat, which Naimbana seemed much pleased with, Falconbridge began by explaining what advantages would accrue to his Majesty and all the inhabitants round about by such an establishment as the St. George's Bay Company were desirous of making;—the good they wished to do—their disinterestedness in point of obtaining wealth, and concluded by expostulating on the injustice and imposition of dispossessing the late settlers of the grounds and houses they occupied, which had been honestly and honorably purchased by Captain Thompson of the Navy, in the name of our gracious Sovereign, his Britannic Majesty.

That it was unusual for Englishmen to forego fulfilling any engagements they made; and they held in detestation every person so disposed. He then entreated the King would use all his might to prevent any unfavourable prejudices which a refusal to reinstate the Settlers or to confirm the bargain made with Captain Thompson, might operate against him in the minds of his good friends the King of England and the St. George's Bay Company.

The King said he liked the English in preference to all white men, tho' he considered every white man as a rogue, and consequently saw them with a jealous eye. Yet he believed the English were by far the honestest, and for that reason, notwithstanding he had received more favors from the French than the English, he liked the latter much best.³⁰

He was decidedly of opinion that all contracts or agreements between man and man, however disadvantageous to either party, should be binding; but observed [that] he was hastily drawn in to dispose of land to Captain Thompson, which in fact he had not a right to sell, because says he, "this is a great country, and belongs to many people—where I live belongs to myself and I can live where I like; nay, can appropriate any unhabited land within my dominions to what use I please; but it is necessary for me to obtain the consent of my people, or rather the head man of every town, before I sell any land to a white man, or allow strangers to come and live among us."

"I should have done this you will say at first—Granted—but as I disobliged my subjects by suffering your people to take possession of the land without their approbation, from which cause I was not able to protect them unless I hazarded civil commotions in my country; and as they have been turned away—it is best now they should be replaced by the unanimous voice of all interested. I am bound from what I have heretofore done, to give my utmost support; and if my people do not acquiesce, it shall not be my fault."

Here Falconbridge, interrupting the King, said, "The King of the English will not blame your people, but load yourself with the stigma; it is King Naimbana who is ostensible to King George—and I hope King, you will not fall out with your good friend."

This being explained by Mr. Secretary Elliotte, his Majesty was some moments silent—when clasping Falconbridge in his arms, told him,"I believe you and King George are my good friends—do not fear, have a good heart, I will do as much as I can for you."

They then shook hands heartily, and Naimbana retired, I suppose to his Pegininee woman's house, but presently returned dressed in a suit of black velvet, except the stockings, which were the same as before.

I often had an inclination to offer my services to close [mend] the holes, but was fearful least my needle might blunder into his Majesty's leg and start the blood, for drawing the blood of an African King I am informed, whether occasioned by accident or otherwise, is punished with death. The dread of this only prevented me.

Anna Maria sits patiently through this long exchange, studying King Naimbana’s torn stockings, amused by her impulse to mend them. The idea that she might do so while he was still wearing them is, of course, ridiculous, but won’t it entertain her readers.

We were now invited to walk and see the town while dinner was preparing. It consists of about twenty houses irregularly placed, built of the same materials, but in a superior way to those of Adam's town. The whole of them are either occupied by the King's wives and servants or appropriated as warehouses.

I saw several of his wives, but his Pegininee [spelled peginninee earlier] woman is a most beautiful young girl of about fourteen. None of them are titled with the appellation of Queen but the oldest, who I was introduced to, and by whom the King has several children. One of the daughter's [sic], named Clara, is wife to Elliotte, and a son named Bartholomew is now in France for his education.

King Naimbana hedges his bets by sending one son to France and another to England for education. This matters because England and France were at war during the 1790s, and Freetown would be savaged by French ships after Anna Maria’s departure.

In different parts of the town I observed some rags stuck on poles; at the foot of each were placed—perhaps a rusty cutlass, some pieces of broken glass and a pewter bason containing a liquid of some sort. These are called Gree Grees and considered as antidotes against the Devil's vengeance. I was thoughtlessly offering to examine one of them when Mr. Elliotte requested me to desist or I should give offence, they being held in a very sacred point of view.³¹

Anna Maria sees in 1792 what every traveler in Africa still sees today—the leather bracelet around the naked child's waist and forearm, the small pouch containing protective charms suspended on a thong around the neck, the wisps of cloth or paper stuck on bamboo poles or tacked to roofbeams, the nameless twists of evil-looking string and bones hung in the rafters. The facial scars which evoke spirit dieties. The trays of strange barks and herbs and roots and broken bones and horn and salves for sale in every African market.

She is scornful of the medicine men, not understanding that they predicted fate, supplied the countless charms, and led the rituals that must be followed to avoid angering the evil spirits. She can only pity a people who are more concerned with the devil than with their gods.

She does not realize that these "Gree Greemen" are both priests and medicine men, skilled in making herbal compounds, and among the most revered members of their society. She would hardly believe that they spend a lifetime learning their profession, the histories of their tribe, and the complicated genealogy of their ancestors who are the privileged inhabitants of the spirit world. It would be beyond credulity to her that only a special few among each tribe ever display the mystical attributes regarded as essential in the animist priesthood, and that those who do qualify need almost supernatural talents for swaying crowds, holding complete attention, hypnotism, and convincing their peers of their wisdom.

No one explains to her that the Africans are not actually worshiping fetishes, but are only using symbolic figures to represent the spirits to whom they appeal for mercy or fertility or bounteous harvests.

We were now led to the garden, which was only furnished with African plants such as pines [pineapples], melons, pumpkins, cucumbers, &c. &c. The King cut two beautiful pines and presented to me. He then shewed us a large new house, at present building for him, which is after the same form and of the same materials with the rest of his town, but much larger.

In our walk we saw many of the King's slaves employed in preparing the palm-nut to make oil from them. [This palm oil is far superior for cooking to anything among the ships’ stale provisions.] It may not be amiss here to give you some description of the tree which produce these nuts. It is remarkable strait [sic] and of a gigantic height; the trunk is quite naked, having neither limb or bark, for the only branches grow immediately from the top, and incline their points somewhat towards the ground. This is a valuable tree: the nut not only produces a quantity of oil, but is esteemed excellent food by the natives, who also extract a liquor from the tree, which they call palm wine.³² This, I am told, is done by means of an incision in the upper part of the trunk, in which a pipe is entered to convey the liquor into bottles placed beneath. [A few days’ fermentation are all that is needed to produce a potent brew, thoroughly intoxicating and very wasteful of both man’s labor and the injured palm tree.]

I have tasted some of this wine, and do not think it unpleasant when fresh made; it has a sweetish taste, and much the look of whey, but foments in a few days, and grows sour—however, I really think this liquor distilled would make a decent kind of spirit.

Having seen all the raree-shows³³ of Robana town, we returned to the Queen’s house to dinner, which was shortly after put on a table covered with a plain calico cloth, and consisted of boiled and broiled fowls, rice, and some greens resembling our spinage [sic]. But I should tell you, before dinner Naimbana again changed his dress for a scarlet robe embroidered with gold.

Naimbana, Elliotte, Falconbridge, and myself only set down; the Queen stood behind the King eating an onion I gave her, a bite of which she now and then indulged her Royal Consort with. Silver forks were placed on the King's plate, and mine, but no where else.³⁴

The King is rather above common height, but meagre withal; the features of his face resemble a European more than any black I have seen; his teeth are mostly decayed, and his hair, or rather wool, bespeaks old age, which I judge to be about eighty; he was seldom without a smile on his countenance, but I think his smiles were suspicious.

He gave great attention while Falconbridge was speaking, for though he does not speak our language, he understands a good deal of it; his answers were slow, and on the whole tolerably reasonable. The Queen is of a middle stature, plump and jolly; her temper seems placid and accommodating; her teeth are bad, but I dare say she has otherwise been a good looking woman in her youthful days. I suppose her now to be about forty-five or six, at which age women are considered old here.

She sat on the King's right hand, while he and Falconbridge were in conversation, and now and then would clap her hands, and cry out Ya hoo, which signifies, that's well or proper. She was dressed in the country manner, but in a dignified stile [sic], having several yards of striped taffety [sic] wrapped round her waist, which served as a petticoat; another piece of the same was carelessly thrown over her shoulders in form of a scarf; her head was decorated with two silk handkerchiefs, her ears with rich gold ear-rings, and her neck with gaudy necklaces; but she had neither shoes nor stockings on.

The italics are Anna Maria’s, telling us how strong are her feelings of propriety, yet the Queen’s bare breasts are unmentionable.

Clara was dressed much after the same way, but her apparel was not quite of such good materials as the Queen's. Mr. Elliotte apologized after dinner that for want of sugar they could not offer tea or coffee.

The tide serving and approaching night obliged us to re-embark and return to this place. On the whole I was much pleased with the occurrences of the day. Indeed, methinks I hear you saying, "Why the week [sic] mind of this giddy girl will be quite intoxicated with the courtesy and attention paid her by such great folks." But believe me, to whatever height of self-consequence I may have been lifted by aerial fancies, overpowering sleep prevailed, and clouding all my greatness—I awoke next morning without the slightest remains of fancied importance.

The news of our arrival having by this time circulated through different parts of the country, we found several who either excited by curiosity or some other cause, had come here to pay their obeisance, or as the Africans term it, make service to us. But there was none of note or quality worth naming among those visitors, except an elderly man called Pa, or Father Boson,³⁵ who is the head man of a considerable town about fifty miles up the river, and who, guided by the impulse of a good heart, invited the wretched exiles [that is, the scattered settlers of Granville town] in the hour of distress to refuge at his place, which was excepted [accepted] by the greater part, who have been fostered and protected ever since by the almsdeeds of this good old man. He was habited in a white linen surplice and a cap of the same, and made, I assure you, a reverential appearance. I am told this is the dress of a nation in the interior country, called Mundingoes; but Pa Boson is not a Mundingo himself.

What Anna Maria calls a surplice is in West Africa called a boubou—an ankle-length robe of white or pastel cotton, generally embroidered around the yoke, with long sleeves. The cotton is cool in the hot climate and keeps away insects by covering almost all exposed flesh. The cotton cap, also embroidered, is round, about four inches high, with a flat top. This is still the country costume of the Muslim population today. And the Mandingo tribe still follows the teachings of Islam.

He respectfully accosted me in broken English, and bending his knee, offered me his right hand supported under the elbow by his left. I held out my hand which he slightly touched, and then repeated the same to Falconbridge. He was now invited to be seated under the awning we had erected over the Lapwing's deck—when he detailed a most pitiable account of sufferings and hardships which the unfortunate people [the displaced settlers of Granville Town] had undergone. But he said there were many bad people among them, who had abused his kindness by ingratitude.

Falconbridge and myself endeavoured what we could to convince him we were highly pleased with his behaviour; but as words are not sufficient to convey thankful acknowledgments in this country, Falconbridge confirmed the assurances we made by a present of a quantity of rum and some hardware, and a promise to represent his conduct to the St. George's Bay Company in a proper light, which he was certain would induce them to make a more ample recompence at a future time.

Well pleased with his reception and somewhat inebriated with the effects of repeated glasses of spirits he had taken, Pa Boson left us; but first promising faithfully he would befriend us all in his power at the Palaver.

He travelled with much seeming consequence. His canoe was longer than our cutter and manned with fourteen people, viz. ten oarsmen, a cockswain, two poignard bearers, and another who beat time on a flat sounding drum to a song given out by the cockswain and re-echoed by the oarsmen. The song, I am told, was expressive of praises to their Chief and of their satisfaction for the treatment they had received from us.

The following day we visited a small island named Tasso, opposite to Bance island, at about one mile and a half distance. This is a well wooded island and I should suppose if cultivated would be a fruitful one.³⁶ (A small part of this island is now planted with cotton, coffee and sugar cane, for account of Messrs. Andersons.) It supplies Bance Island with water, which is remarkable fine, and the present holders of the latter claim a right to this also, but upon what grounds I cannot say.

Fresh water is of vital importance. The estuary of the Rokel River is, of course, tidal and therefore salty or brackish a good distance inland.

Approaching the shore I saw many monkies [sic] playing on the beach and catching small fish at the edge of the water, but they all ran away as we drew near. Being informed there was no danger to be apprehended from wild beasts of prey, we penetrated some distance into the woods.

In our walk we saw many pineapples and lime trees, the spontaneous production of the country, and a variety of birds beautifully plumed, but none that sung. We were also treated with the perfumes of fragrant aromatic plants, and indeed were vastly delighted and entertained, though I felt fatigued with our perambulation.

The next day we went up the river about twelve miles to see a secret or reserved factory belonging to Bance Island at a place called Marre Bump,³⁷ but our curiosity had nearly led us into a serious scrape. Falconbridge neglected to obtain permission, and consequently had no sanction from the proprietors. After landing we walked at least half a mile on a narrow path, through amazing thick woods before we reached the houses. As soon as the inhabitants perceived us, the women took to their heels and ran to the woods, the men flew to arms, and in a moment we were met by more than twenty huge fellows armed with guns, pistols and cutlasses. We were four in number, viz. Falconbridge, the master of the cutter, a black man and myself. Our black spoke to them in their own language—they would not listen to him; but said if we did not return immediately the way we came, they would put us all to death.

It is easier for you to imagine what horrors those threats occasioned than for me to point them out. Finding argument fruitless, we put to the right about and hastened to our boat. They, following, flanked us on each side of the road, watchfully observing our motions till they saw us clear off, when, as a mark of exultation, they discharged their muskets over our heads and made the woods ring with peals of triumphant clamours.

Recovering from my fright a little, I could not help, you may suppose, exulting (though in a different way) as well as the savages. My heart overflow'd with gratitude to the Author of its animation for our providential escape.

Anna Maria never uses the term God, but she invokes his image frequently to account for any inexplicable event.

Returning down the river, we observed numbers of orange trees. A cluster of them, overloaded with fruit, invited us on shore, and after gathering what we chose, made the best of our way and arrived here before night.

Three days are now elapsed since our expedition to Marre Bump, during which time I have confined myself mostly on board, occupied in writing this letter. It has been really a fatiguing job, being obliged to sit in bed with a book placed on my knee, which serves for a writing desk. But I was determined, whatever the inconveniencies might be, not to let slip an opportunity, as I find they but seldom offer. I lament the Palaver is not over, that I might give you my account of an African Court, but my next will remedy this loss.

Mr. Elliotte has informed us the Chiefs will be at Robana the day after tomorrow, when Falconbridge is desired to attend. I shall accompany him, and long to know the result.

Adieu, Heaven bless you, &c. &c.

Endnotes:

1. "Bence Island, as it was first named, had been leased from the neighboring African rulers in the 1670s by the Royal African Company. Substantial fortified premises were built, and it became the main trading centre in the river. After various vicissitudes the lease of what was then known as Bence Island was taken over in 1758 by the Andersons [Messrs John and Alexander Anderson of Philpot Lane, a London firm]." Christopher Fyfe, Anna Maria Falconbridge, p. 16.

2. The journey in sailing ships from Europe down the West Coast of Africa benefits from following winds.

3. Anna Maria does not tell us until LETTER IV that this is William Falconbridge, Alexander’s brother, who, after a quarrel between the two, joined the slave factors on Bunce Island.

4. About the time Anna Maria was born, a Quaker doctor in England, John Fothingill sent a botanist named Henry Smeathman to Sierra Leone to survey the possibility of establishing plantations there using free black labor from England. He brought back glowing accounts of the potential for export crops such as sugar in Sierra Leone.

Dr. Fothingill was one of a group of influential men in London who were trying to end slavery and provide charity to the free black poor there. They were only a trickle in the 1770s, generally brought by plantation owners from America and the Caribbean to be household servants. Some were seamen or army drummers. No man felt more strongly about their plight than Granville Sharp, who had rescued a mistreated slave in 1765 and successfully fought a case in court in 1772 to prevent the master of an escaped slave from Virginia from forcing him to board ship for sale in Jamaica. See Ellen Gibson Wilson, The Loyal Blacks (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1976) and W. St. G. Walker, The Black Loyalists (New York: Dalhousie University Press, 1976).

5. Captain Thomas Boulden Thompson of HMS Nautilus was put in charge because he knew the West Coast of Africa; he had been employed by the British Government in the 1780s to seek a suitable site there for Britain’s surplus convicts. He carried supplies to last eight months and instructions to purchase land from the Temne tribe living on the Sierra Leone peninsula, supervise the new settlement through the harvest of their first crop, and then leave the settlers on their own.

6. "Bars were a form of national currency devised by Africans, who had no use for the paper or metal currencies current in Europe. Each commodity had its value in ‘bars’ which fluctuated with supply and demand. The price paid for slaves was similarly calculated in bars. Fyfe, Anna Maria Falconbridge, p. 35.

7. The paramount chief of the Temne, King Naimbana, lived upstream at Robana and ruled a territory stretching northward along the Rokel River for a hundred miles. (Although the Europeans called him "king," Naimbana was in fact regent of the Koye Temne from 1775 until his death in 1793.) Without realizing that he needed King Naimbana’s approval, Captain Thompson negotiated with a minor chief on the peninsula, King Tombo, who controlled the fresh-water spring on the north bank of the harbor. King Tom, as the English called him, happily dealt with Captain Thompson. The boundaries of the grant were vague, and King Tom couldn’t read the agreement. Neither he nor his interpreters had any idea that Thompson assumed he was buying permanent title to the land, for no land was owned individually in black Africa. Its occupants had only the right to use the land as decided by their chiefs.

8. The annual torrential rains drop almost 150 inches of water between May and November.

9. Dysentery and tuberculosis were endemic, as was malaria. By September 122 of the settlers had been buried. Only six of the white artisans survived, and they soon drifted away from Granville Town to better employment prospects in the slave factories upstream. In September Captain Thompson set sail for England, leaving some 200 settlers on their own.

10. A factory was a trading station, supervised by a licensed European agent (called a factor) who bought slaves from the Africans. Slaves were generally captives from inter-tribal warfare. The victorious African chiefs sent them down the rivers and sold them to the factories on the coast. The factors in turn sold them to merchant vessels calling there. The Anderson brothers had owned Bunce Island since 1785.

11. The Temne people of Sierra Leone were very accustomed to European merchant ships calling in the huge estuary of the river to take on fresh water and to trade in camwood, ivory, and slaves. Sierra Leone had the only really protected anchorage on the entire coast.

12. St. George’s Bay is one of several coves on the north side of the peninsula along the south shore of the Rokel River estuary.

13. The second governor wrote in his journal that Falconbridge’s "conduct & professions gave the slave traders great reason to believe that nothing less was intended than to ruin them if possible by the most unfair means, as by enticing away their seamen, inveigling their slaves, encouraging the natives to cut off slave ships etc." Abolition and Emancipation, Part 1, Reel 6, Zachary Macaulay’s Journal, 1793.

14. An English factor named Ballingall. Fyfe, Anna Maria Falconbridge, p. 18.

15. Ballingall was not named in the 1802 edition.

16. House of Lords Record Office, L5/J/II/2, "Return of Ships employed in the Slave Trade from 1791 to 1797."

17. The Lapwing, seized by the British Government for smuggling, was purchased by the Sierra Leone Company out of the condemned hold; see Prince Hoare, Memoirs of Granville Sharp (London: Henry Colburn, 1820), p. 349.

18. Elliott Griffith, who had been a valet in London, was one of the original Granville Town settlers. He eventually married Naimbana’s daughter Clara.

19. Domingo was of Afro-Portuguese descent and claimed to be a Roman Catholic. He ruled from Royema, a town on the south shore of the estuary. Christopher Fyfe, A History of Sierra Leone (London: Oxford University Press, 1962), p. 44.

20. African term for an oar-man.

21. Cry: like a wake , often accompanied by puncheons of rum and great quantities of tobacco.

22. From the French word, palabre—to talk. All issues in West Africa are settled by the men of a village, clan, or tribe meeting together and reaching some agreement by consensus.

23. Another son of this local chief appears to have gone to England for his education. In 1797 Anthony Domingo wrote to Sharp expressing gratitude to the Directors of the Sierra Leone Company for his education (see P. Edwards and J. Walvin, ‘Africans in Britain, 1500-1800', in The African Diaspora: Interpretive Essays, eds. M. Kilson and R. Rotberg (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1976), p. 191).

24. "Despite its fortifications, it never resisted an enemy successfully, having been taken by French warships in 1704, by pirates in 1719 and 1720, by the armed retainers of a neighboring Afro-Portuguese in 1728, and by the French again in 1779." Fyfe, Anna Maria Falconbridge, p. 23.

25. "Present possession is the only tenure they [the natives] allow of in the occupying of lands. If a man quits his situation, another may immediately take possession, provided he is a native; for they are extremely tenacious of their rights, and will not suffer any strangers to settle among them without their consent and approbation." See John Matthews, RN, A Voyage to the River Sierra Leone containing an account of the trade and productions of the country and of the civil and religious customs and manner of the people, by John Matthews during his residence in that country in the years 1789, 1786, and 1787 (London: Frand Cass, 1966), pp. 787-79.

26. Today called a shaman or a medicine man.

27. The first was by Lieutenant John Matthews, mentioned in footnote 39, which Anna Maria recommends to her readers as supplying a background on Sierra Leone that she does not wish to repeat.

28. Fyfe, Anna Maria Falconbridge, p. 24.

29. Of the native men on the coast, Winterbottom wrote: "Those who can afford it are fond of indulging their vanity in imitating the European mode of dress, and of displaying all the finery they can procure. They love to deck themselves in tawdry embroidered silk clothes, with a profusion of gold and silver tinsel, which often gives to the wearers a very ludicrous appearance." See Thomas Winterbottom, An Account of the Native Africans in the Neighborhood of Sierra Leone to which is Added an Account of the Present State of Medicine Among Them (London: Frank Cass & Co. Ltd., 1969; first published in 1803), vol. 1, p.98; cf. Also Matthews, Voyage, pp. 4-5.

30. European traders were generally considered depraved dogs by the natives. See e.g. Winterbottom, An Account, vol. 1, pp. 209-210, and Matthews, Voyage, p. 96.

31. Also spelt grisgris, grigris, or gregory, a European term of African origin meaning fetish (from feiticaria, witchcraft). These were amulets to ward off the effects of witchcraft or the malice of evil spirits. See Winterbottom, An Account, vol. 1, p. 99. Matthews wrote: "To remove one of them, even unknowingly, is a great offence, and subjects the aggressor to a palaver, or action in their courts of law." See Matthews, Voyage, p. 67.

32. Palm produce was to become an important export commodity during the nineteenth century.

33. Raree-show: originally, a show contained or carried about in a box; a peep-show, or spectacle.

34. John Clarkson, first governor of Freetown, wrote of a meal with King Naimbana on July 25, 1792: "When we sat down to dinner, the queen and her daughters and other attendants sat down on the ground outside the tent." E. G. Ingham, Sierra Leone after a Hundred Years (London; Frank Cass, 1968), p. 27. Ingham contains a condensed and sanitized version of the diary of John Clarkson.

35. 'After a certain age the title of pa, or father, is prefixed to the names of men, as a token of respect.’ See Winterbottom, An Account, vol. 1, p. 211.

36. Larger than Bance Island, Tasso possessed a rich and well-drained soil. The Company had tried to ‘purchase’ it, but the slave-traders on Gambia Island out-bid them; see Ellen Gibson Wilson, John Clarkson and the African Adventure (London: Macmillan, 1980), p. 88.

37. An island, Marabump (or Marrabump) was called Mabenka Island on nineteenth-century Admiralty charts.

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