A Niger Trading company paid a deadly ransom to kidnappers

Posted in Africa, Historical articles, History, Rivers, Trade on Friday, 14 March 2014

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This edited article about Africa first appeared in Look and Learn issue number 589 published on 28 April 1973.

Captain Stott,  picture, image, illustration

Captain Stott laid out casks of rum on the beach as a ransom for the safe return of Charles Osborne and Richard Cliff

In May, 1875, Richard Cliff, trader, with Charles Osborne, his assistant, and a crew of seven natives took his small steam launch from the village of Onitsha down the River Niger to the Bight of Biafra. A few days later, the launch ran aground and damaged one of her twin propellers. The next day she ran foul of a rock off Stirling Island and bent her shaft. She drifted helplessly until Cliff regained control of her and hauled her alongside the island to repair the damage.

Cliff sat in the shade, noting the extent of the damage in his log. It had been a disastrous trip so far. Surely nothing else could go wrong. At that very moment, however, a fleet of canoes landed on the far side of the island, disgorging a band of men from a nearby village, who stole through the bush towards the hapless launch. They had seen its plight and intended to take advantage of it. Richard Cliff’s troubles were only just beginning.

By the 1870s trade in the west coast of Africa had become highly organised. The rough adventurers who had first established trading-posts had been succeeded by sophisticated business-men and liberated slaves, too, were making their way in trade. The steamship had extended the range of trading journeys and traders were venturing from the narrow strip of the Grain, Ivory, Slave and Gold Coasts to travel into the interior. Cliff had established posts for his London-based company along the Niger Valley but he was about to learn that trade in this part of Africa was not just a matter of buying and selling.

The attackers announced their arrival with a burst of fire from the bush. One of Cliff’s crew spun round and fell, his arm dangling uselessly, his eyes wide in surprise. Bullets ploughed across the beach and ricocheted off the launch’s iron hull. Ducking and twisting, Cliff raced for the ship, tumbled into it with the rest of the crew and ordered them to shove off the bank. The vessel drifted out into mid-stream where the current caught it and carried it out of range of the guns.

Safe thought Cliff. But were they? Osborne started the launch’s engine; immediately the bent shaft drove the remaining propeller blade into the hull. Water rushed in and in three minutes the launch sank. Cliff and his men had barely time to jump into the boat and cut her adrift lest she be dragged down with the launch. The crew bent to their oars but the natives from the island, who had gone back to their canoes, drove after them in swift pursuit and soon began to gain on the laden boat.

Cliff and Osborne had saved their rifles and ammunition when the launch had gone down and they knelt in the stern firing at the black, foaming hulls. They sank one and forced the rest to drop back to a respectful distance. But as the chase swept past another village, the villagers opened fire from the bank and launched their own canoes in pursuit. Then Cliff, looking ahead, saw to his dismay that from another village, further downstream, yet more canoes were putting out to intercept them.

Quickly he ordered the rowers to pull for a small inlet which led to the village of Gamautu. An English trading-post had once been set up there and he reckoned that the villagers might protect them. Certainly the village seemed quiet enough as they approached.

They came alongside the old pier and Cliff led his crew to the ruined warehouse. He kicked open the door and stepped in. A black arm slid across his neck, wrenching it back, and a spear pricked his throat. The Gamautu villagers had been expecting them. And they were not friendly.

Cliff and his crew lay trussed up in the store, without food and with only a little water, for several days. Eventually the two white men were taken before the king of the village. His council, he told them, had decided their fate. They were to be held to ransom. Cliff was to write a letter to Captain Stott, of the Sultan of Soccatoo, a trading-ship which was nearby, and one of the chief’s runners would deliver it. Cliff expostulated and the king looked surprised. He admitted that he was driving a hard bargain but he was sure that Cliff, a trader himself, would understand.

The letter was written and the runner departed. Unfortunately he was captured by the villagers who had first pursued the launch. They sent what was left of him back with the message that the white men should be handed over to them.

Then a messenger arrived from Captain Stott himself. The trader had heard of the capture of his compatriots and asked for information about them. Cliff was allowed to send him a letter, telling him that unless he ransomed them in two days they would die.

When he received the message Stott sent the Sultan pounding upstream and was soon at the pier of Gamautu. He was allowed to visit Cliff and Osborne who were now very weak. Negotiations over their release lasted for two days and Stott was expected to provide rum for the king and his council at each session. At last, terms were agreed. Stott would give goods to the value of £200 to the villagers – they had originally asked for double the price – and the principal commodity would be rum. Half would be paid when the first man was surrendered; the rest when the second man came on board.

Osborne boarded the Sultan first and Stott’s men laid out casks of rum in rows along the beach. Then Cliff joined him and more rows stretched along the sand. The villagers seized the casks and began to swig down the fiery spirit. Meanwhile the Sultan slipped out into mid-stream.

For some time Stott and his companions watched the carousing on the shore. Soon the entire village was staggering drunk. Then quietly Stott handed a rifle to Cliff and another to Osborne. He loaded his own, took a leisurely aim, and began to massacre the stupefied villagers. Cliff and Osborne did likewise. They had driven a hard bargain but they were sure that the king, a trader himself, would understand.

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