the pay is cruelly inadequate, where but few horses, sheep, or
cattle can exist, where the natives are unbelievably lazy and
insolent, and where, while there is no society of congenial spirits,
there is a superabundance of animal and insect pests. Still, so
great are gold, ivory, and rubber, and so many are the men who will
take big chances for little pay, that every foot of the West Coast
is preëmpted. As the ship rolls along, for hours from the rail you
see miles and miles of steaming yellow sand and misty swamp where as
yet no white man has set his foot. But in the real estate office of
Europe some Power claims the right to "protect" that swamp; some
treaty is filed as a title-deed.

As the Powers finally arranged it, the map of the West Coast is like
a mosaic, like the edge of a badly constructed patchwork quilt. In
trading along the West Coast a man can find use for five European
languages, and he can use a new one at each port of call.

To the north, the West Coast begins with Cape Verde, which is
Spanish. It is followed by Senegal, which is French; but into
Senegal is tucked "a thin red line" of British territory called
Gambia. Senegal closes in again around Gambia, and is at once
blocked to the south by the three-cornered patch which belongs to
Portugal. This is followed by French Guinea down to another British
red spot, Sierra Leone, which meets Liberia, the republic of negro
emigrants from the United States. South of Liberia is the French
Ivory Coast, then the English Gold Coast; Togo, which is German;
Dahomey, which is French; Lagos and Southern Nigeria, which again
are English; Fernando Po, which is Spanish, and the German
Cameroons.