Our Fulah had heard a rumour of four white men having come to trade on the Niger. Madidu had sent two of his blacksmiths to prepare the way before them, and he had also by this time sent envoys to Timbuktu to confirm the treaty we had made with him. He did not know what had become of that treaty, but anyhow he had returned with his pocket (Heaven only knows the capacity of that pocket) full of knick-knacks and more than one present for Madidu. The news of the approach of the barges was confirmed during the following days, and in my notes I find the following reference to them:— _May 17._—A man from Auru who had come to Say told us that at Ansongo there were three hundred armed men and seven or eight whites who had come in peace, nothing but peace, and were coming down the river soon, at least as soon as there should be water enough; at present they were arrested by the shallows. The white men, according to our informer, were French like ourselves. The armed men have now increased to five hundred, and the white officers to eight, who are waiting for the rising of the river. Really these rumours were beginning to make us anxious. The barges began to assume in our imaginations the appearance of properly manned vessels, and we wondered if there really was anything of importance in the wind. Perhaps a party had been sent out from Timbuktu for Say to make sure that we had plenty of provisions, perhaps even to found a permanent post at the latter place. It would be good policy, but bearing in mind the temper of the natives, the probability was that we should not know anything for certain till we actually saw the French flag at the bend of the river, unless of course Madidu should inform us officially beforehand. Suppose, however, that a French party had followed us, would they be able to pass? It would indeed be a bold thing to attempt to pass the rapids as we had done, aided as we were by the natives, and with such a skilful captain as Digui, who was used to coolies and knew how to manage them. _May 17._—The river is still falling, and above our island a little sand-bank is now laid bare, where we were able to leave the _Davoust_ for the repairs the damage done to her at Labezanga rendered necessary. Aided by Abdulaye, I undertook the task of patching her up, and found it a simple affair enough. Fortunately we had a sheet of aluminium in reserve, one only, it is true, but it was all we needed. We bent that sheet to the shape required, we bolted and riveted it all in a few days, and until the water rose again the _Davoust_ remained high and dry in her dock on the sand. [Illustration: THE ‘DAVOUST’ IN HER DRY DOCK.]