With the first regular downpour of rain came a serious change in health of our small party within the fort, also of the few settlers whose places of business were in the town immediately outside; and for a few succeeding months we were destined to realize the true significance of a sickly season on the Coast of Guinea. Fever in one or other of its local forms made its appearance, affecting the older residents in that of ague, while the newly arrived were attacked by the more violent form, called at the time their “seasoning,” from which the chances of recovery were considerably less than those of death. Of the three officers and the wife of one who had been my fellow-passengers, one of the former speedily succumbed. The other two, together with the lady, suffered severely, and made imperfect recoveries, while outside the fort conditions were no less serious. The blanks so made in our numbers were sadly apparent, and yet the survivors from attacks, and those who had not been struck down, found in each successive death this rather ghastly consolation, that, as the ratio of mortality was “being made up,” so did their chances of escape increase. All this while the few of us who were capable of the exertion took our walk morning and evening when the weather permitted, our one promenade that towards “the Salt Pond.” As we did so, the melancholy sight presented itself, of a small number of newly arrived missionaries[79] gloomily pursuing the same route, “waiting,” as we were informed, “for their seasoning,” before being sent inland to their respective stations. One after another was missed; it was announced that “he was down with his seasoning”; and then--the receipt of a black-edged envelope told the rest.
Meantime I retained my health to a degree that under the circumstances was remarkable. As a result of this happy exemption from sickness, various duties devolved upon me in addition to those within my proper sphere, among those extra responsibilities being professional work in the Colonial Hospital, and charge of the Commissariat Department for the troops--the latter altogether alien to my training or tastes. So conditions went on till July, a month which proved to be the most unhealthy and deadly of any throughout the year. It was then that, night after night, I was the solitary member of “our mess” who took his place at table. I made the acquaintance of, and speedily became on friendly terms with, some mice, whose place of residence was under the floor, but which freely communicated with the messroom by numerous apertures, and was in other respects dilapidated; nor did it take long before some of the little animals acquired sufficient confidence to scramble up my leg and so on to the table, partake of dinner with myself, thus calling to my mind the story of the Prisoner of Chillon. With the month of August came improved health conditions, and for the four or five succeeding months all was cheerful in that particular and important respect.