Such was the situation of Rubault at Galam, when I left Isle St. Louis on the 21st of July, 1786. I had made arrangements for the sailing of the fleet, which repaired to its destination, but too late, as Rubault no longer existed. He found it impossible to maintain, through nothing but the respect which was shewn to him, the great number of slaves which he had procured, and they became refractory and set themselves at liberty. He had for some time foreseen the fate which would befall him, and was making arrangements to avoid it, by returning over land to Isle St. Louis; but while he hesitated, the others acted. One fatal night, the slaves revolted and pursued him with fury; the house which he inhabited, was a feeble structure, and they easily forced the doors. Rubault jumped out of the window, but was immediately seized and massacred; the house and magazines were pillaged, and all the property disappeared with its collector. This event arose from the discredit which our commerce experienced: for it is not enough with the half-civilized nations in Africa, to pay in merchandise, but there must be a rigorous punctuality in the times of payment. The most afflicting result, however, of this catastrophe, was the abandonment of the discoveries which I had attempted to make in a country still unknown, as the documents which Rubault had collected were destroyed; while in consequence of his unfortunate end, I could find no one who would attempt the journey again. Thus all my hopes were defeated. During this horrible night, the prince of Galam, and the inhabitants reposed in peace. When they were informed of the insurrection, it was too late to stop its course, which was so rapid, that they had scarcely time to take measures for their own security. The inhabitants were so much afflicted at the event, that they sent a deputation to Isle St. Louis, to express their regret at what had happened; but the evil was without a remedy, and it was agreed to think no more of it. The great inconvenience of the voyage to Galam is, that then is the only period at which a fleet can sail, as the river cannot be ascended, except after the first rains, which are during the sickly season. The vessels generally leave Isle St. Louis at the end of July, or the beginning of August, when the current of the river has an incredible force, and the wind is almost always contrary, so that it is necessary to tow the ships by ropes over a difficult and uncut road. Indeed, every circumstance is combined to protract the voyage and render it disagreeable.