“a-fighting for the crown!”
“a-fighting for the crown!”
The balance of life vibrated considerably on the African coast. Sometimes Mr. Bull’s scale ascended and sometimes the Slaver’s. It was now the turn of the former to be exalted for a while by way of revenge for my forced hospitality.
Our friends of the Bonito held on with provoking pertinacity in front of my factory, so that I was troubled but little with company from Cuba for several months. At last, however, it became necessary that I should visit a neighboring colony for supplies, and I took advantage of a Russian trader along the coast to effect my purpose. But when we were within sight of our destination, a British cruiser brought us to and visited the “Galopsik.” As her papers were in order, and the vessel altogether untainted, I took it for granted that Lieutenant Hill would make a short stay and be off to his “Saracen.” Yet, a certain “slave deck,” and an unusual quantity of water-casks, aroused the officer’s suspicions, so that instead of heading for our port, we were unceremoniously favored with a prize crew, and ordered to Sierra Leone!
I did not venture to protest against these movements, inasmuch as I had no interest whatever in the craft, but I ventured to suggest that “as I was only apassenger, there could be no objection to my landing before the new voyage was commenced.”
“By no means, sir,” was the prompt reply, “your presence is a material fact for the condemnation of the vessel!”Indeed, I soon found out that I was recognized by some of the Kroomen on the cruiser, and my unlucky reputation was a hole in the bottom of our Russian craft!
At Sierra Leone matters became worse. The Court did not venture to condemn the Russian, but resolved on ordering her to England; and when I re-stated my reasonable appeal for release, I was told that I must accompany the vessel on her visit to Great Britain.
This arbitrary decision of our captors sadly disconcerted my plans. A voyage to England would ruin New Sestros. Mybarracoonswere alive with blacks, but I had not a month’s provisions in my stores. The clerk, temporarily in charge, was altogether unfit to conduct a factory during a prolonged absence,—and all my personal property, as well as Don Pedro’s, was at the hazard of his judgment during a period of considerable difficulty.
I resolved to take “French leave.”
Three men-of-war were anchored astern and on our bows. No boats were allowed to approach us from shore; at night two marines and four sailors paraded the deck, so that it was a thing of some peril to dream of escape in the face of such Arguses. Yet there was no help for it. I could not afford an Admiralty or Chancery suit in England, while mybarracoonswere foodless in Africa.
No one had been removed from the Russian since her seizure, nor were we denied liberty of motion and intercourse so long as suspicion had not ripened into legal condemnation. The captain, by birth a Spaniard, was an old acquaintance, while the steward and boatswain were good fellows who professed willingness to aid me in any exploit I might devise for my liberty.
I hit upon the plan of a regular carouse; and at once decided that my Spanish skipper was bound to keep his birthday with commendable merriment and abundant grog. There was to be no delay; one day was as good as another for his festival, while all that we needed, was time enough to obtain the requisite supplies of food and fluid.
This was soon accomplished, and the “fatted pig” slaughtered for the feast. As I never left home unprovided with gold,means were not wanting to stock our pantry with champagne as well as brandy.
Every thing went off to a charm. We fed like gluttons and drank like old-fashioned squires. Bumper after bumper was quaffed to the captain. Little by little, the infection spread, as it always does, from the wardroom to the cabin, and “goodfellowship” was the watchword of the night. Invitations were given and accepted by our prize crew. Bull and the Lion again relaxed under the spell of beef and brandy, so that by sundown every lip had tasted oureau de vie, and watered for more. The “first watch” found every soul on board, with the exception of our corporal of marines, as happy as lords.
This corporal was a regular “character;” and, from the first, had been feared as our stumbling-block. He was a perfect martinet; a prim, precise, black-stock’d, military, Miss Nancy. He neither ate nor drank, neither talked nor smiled, but paraded the deck with a grim air of iron severity, as if resolved to preserve his own “discipline” if he could not control that of any one else. I doubt very much whether her Majesty has in her service a more dutiful loyalist than Corporal Blunt, if that excellent functionary has not succumbed to African malaria.
I hoped that something would occur to melt the corporal’s heart during the evening, and had prepared a little vial in my pocket, which, at least, would have given him a stirless nap of twenty-four hours. But nothing broke the charm of his spell-bound sobriety. There he marched, to and fro, regular as a drum tap, hour after hour, stiff and inexorable as a ramrod!
But who, after the fall of Corporal Blunt, shall declare that there is a living man free from the lures of betrayal? And yet, he only surrendered to an enemy in disguise!
“God bless me, corporal,” said our prize lieutenant, “in the name of all that’s damnable, why don’t you let out a reef or two from those solemn cheeks of yours, and drink a bumper to Captain Gaspard and Don Téodor? You ain’t afraid ofcider, are you?”
“Cider, captain?” said the corporal, advancing to the front and throwing up his hand with a military salute.
“Cider and be d——d to you!” returned the lieutenant. “Cider—of course, corporal; what other sort of pop can starving wretches like us drink in Sary-loney?”
“Well, lieutenant,” said the corporal, “if so be as how them fizzing bottles which yonder Spanish gentleman is a-pourin’ down isonly cider; and if cider ain’t agin rules after ‘eight bells;’ and if you, lieutenant, orders me to handle my glass,—I don’t see what right I have to disobey the orders of my superior!”
“Oh! blast your sermon and provisos,” interjected the lieutenant, filling a tumbler and handing it to the corporal, who drained it at a draught. In a moment the empty glass was returned to the lieutenant, who, instead of receiving it from the subaltern, refilled the tumbler.
“Oh, I’m sure I’m a thousand times obliged, lieutenant,” said Blunt, with his left hand to his cap, “a thousand, thousand times, lieutenant,—but I’d rather take no more, if it’s all the same to your honor.”
“But it ain’t, Blunt, by any means; the rule is universal among gentlemen on ship and ashore, that whenever a fellow’s glass is filled, he must drink it to the dregs, though he may leave a drop in the bottom to pour out on the table in honor of his sweetheart;—so, down with the cider! And now Blunt, my boy, that you’ve calked yourfirstnail-head, I insist upon a bumper all round to that sweetheart you were just talking of!”
“Me, lieutenant?”
“You, corporal!”
“I wasn’t talking about any sweetheart, as I remembers, lieutenant;—’pon the honor of a soldier, I haven’t had no such a thing this twenty years, since one warm summer’s afternoon, when Jane——”
“Now, corporal, you don’t pretend to contradict your superior officer, I hope. You don’t intend to be the first man on this ship to show a mutinous example!”
“Oh! God bless me, lieutenant, the thought never entered my brain!”
But the third tumbler of champagnedid, in the apple-blossom disguise of “cider;” and, in half an hour, there wasn’t anodder figure on deck than the poor corporal, whose vice-like stock steadied his neck, though there was nothing that could make him toe the plank which he pertinaciously insisted on promenading. Blunt the immaculate, was undeniably drunk!
In fact,—though I say it with all possible respect for her Majesty’s naval officers,while on duty,—there was, by this time, hardly a sober man on deck or in the cabin except myself and the Spanish captain, who left me to engage the prize-officer in a game of backgammon or dominoes. The crew was dozing about the decks, or nodding over the taffrail, while my colleague, the boatswain, prepared an oar on the forecastle to assist me in reaching the beach.
It was near midnight when I stripped in my state-room, leaving my garments in the berth, and hanging my watch over its pillow. In a small bundle I tied a flannel shirt and a pair of duck pantaloons, which I fastened behind my neck as I stood on the forecastle; and then, placing the oar beneath my arm, I glided from the bows into the quiet water.
The night was not only very dark, but a heavy squall of wind and rain, accompanied by thunder, helped to conceal my escape; and free the stream from sharks. I was not long in reaching a native town, where a Krooman from below, who had known me at Gallinas, was prepared for my reception and concealment.
Next morning, the cabin-boy, who did not find me as usual on deck, took my coffee to the state-room, where, it was supposed, I still rested in comfortable oblivion of last night’s carouse. But the bird had flown! There were my trunk, my garments, my watch,—undisturbed as I left them when preparing for bed. There was the linen of my couch turned down and tumbled during repose. The inquest had no doubt of my fate:—I had fallen overboard during the night, and was doubtless, by this time, well digested in the bowels of African sharks! Folks shook their heads with surprise when it was reported that the notorious slaver, Canot, had fallen a victim tomania à potu!
Thereportof my death soon reached shore; the British townsfolk believed it, but I never imagined for a moment that the warm-hearted tar who commanded the prize had been deceived by such false signals.
During eight days I remained hidden among the friendly negroes, and from my loophole, saw the Russian vessel sail under the Saracen’s escort. I was not, however, neglected in my concealment by the worthy tradesmen of the British colony, who knew I possessed money as well as credit. This permitted me to receive visits and make purchases for the factory, so that I was enabled, on the eighth day, with a full equipment of all I desired, to quit the British jurisdiction in a Portuguese vessel.
On our way to New Sestros, I made the skipper heave his main-yard aback at Digby, while I embarked thirty-one “darkies,” and a couple of stanch canoes with their Kroomen, to land my human freight in case of encountering a cruiser.
And well was it for me that I took this precaution. Night fell around us, dark and rainy,—the wind blowing in squalls, and sometimes dying away altogether. It was near one o’clock when the watch announced two vessels on our weather bow; and, of course, the canoes were launched, manned, filled with twenty of the gang, and set adrift for the coast, ere our new acquaintances could honor us with their personal attention. Ten of the slaves still remained on board, and as it was perilous to risk them in our own launch, we capsized it over the squad, burying the fellows in its bowels under the lee of a sailor’s pistol to keep them quiet if we were searched.
Our lights had hardly been extinguished in cabin and binnacle, when we heard the measured stroke of a man-of-war oar. In a few moments more the boat was alongside, the officer on deck, and a fruitless examination concluded. The blacks beneath the launch were as silent as death; nothing was found to render the “Maria” suspicious; and we were dismissed with a left-handed blessing for rousing gentlemen from their bunks on so comfortless a night. Next morning at dawn we reached New Sestros, where my ten lubbers were landed without delay.
But our little comedy was not yet over. Noon had not struck before the “Dolphin” cast anchor within hail of the “Maria,” and made so free as to claim her for a prize! In the darkness and confusion of shipping the twenty slaves who were first of all despatched in canoes, one of them slipped overboardwith a paddle, and sustained himself till daylight, when he was picked up by the cruiser whose jaws we had escaped during the night! The negro’s story of our trick aroused the ire of her commander, and the poor “Maria” was obliged to pay the forfeit by revisiting Sierra Leone in custody of an officer.
There were great rejoicings on my return to New Sestros. The coast was full of odd and contradictory stories about our capture. When the tale of my death at Sierra Leone by drowning, in a fit of drunkenness, was told to my patron Don Pedro, that intelligent gentleman denied it without hesitation, because, in the language of the law, “it proved too much.” It waspossible, he said, that I might have been drowned; but when they told him I had come to my death by strong drink, they declared what was not only improbable, but altogether out of the question. Accordingly, he would take the liberty to discredit the entire story, being sure that I would turn up before long.
But poor Prince Freeman was not so clever a judge of nature as Don Pedro. Freeman had heard of my death; and, imbued as he was with the superstitions of his country, nobody could make him credit my existence till he despatched a committee to my factory, headed by his son, to report the facts. But then, on the instant, the valiant prince paid me a visit of congratulation. As I held out both hands to welcome him, I saw the fellow shrink with distrust.
“Count your fingers!” said Freeman.
“Well,” said I, “what for?—here they are—one—two—three—four—five—six—seven—eight—nine—ten!”
“Good—good!” shouted the prince, as he clasped my digits. “White men tell too many lies ’bout the commodore! White man say, John Bull catch commodore, and cut him fingers all off, so commodore no more can ‘makee book’ for makee fool of John Bull!” Which, being translated into English, signifies that it was reported my fingers had been cut off by my British captors to prevent me from writing letters by which the innocent natives believed I so often bamboozled and deceived the cruisers of her Majesty.
During my absence, a French captain, who was one of ourmost attentive friends, had left a donkey which he brought from the Cape de Verds for my especial delectation, by way of an occasionalpromenade à cheval! I at once resolved to bestow the “long-eared convenience” on Freeman, not only as a type, but a testimonial; yet, before a week was over, the unlucky quadruped reappeared at my quarters, with a message from the prince that it might do well enough for a bachelor like me, but its infernal voice was enough to cause the miscarriage of an entire harem, if not of every honest woman throughout his jurisdiction! The superstition spread like wildfire. The women were up in arms against the beast; and I had no rest till I got rid of its serenades by despatching it to Monrovia, where the dames and damsels were not afraid of donkeys of any dimensions.
It was my habit to employ at New Sestros a clerk, store-keeper, and four seamen, all of whom were whites of reliable character, competent to aid me efficiently in the control of mybarracoons.
One of these sailors died of dropsy while in my service; and, as I write, the memory of his death flashes across my mind so vividly, that I cannot help recording it among the characteristic events of African coast-life.
Sanchez, I think, was by birth a Spaniard; at least his perfect familiarity with the language, as well as name and appearance, induced me to believe that the greater part of his life must have been spent under the shield of Saint Iago. The poor fellow was ill for a long time, but in Africa, existence is so much a long-drawn malady, that we hardly heeded his bloated flesh or cadaverous skin, as he sat, day after day, musket in hand, at the gate of our barracoon. At last, however, his confinement to bed was announced, and every remedy within our knowledge applied for relief. This time, however, the summons was peremptory; the sentence was final; there was no reprieve.
On the morning of his death, the sufferer desired me to be called, and, sending away the African nurse and the two old comrades who watched faithfully at his bedside, explained that he felt his end approaching, yet could not depart without easing his soul byconfession!
“Here, Don Téodor,” said he, “are five ounces of gold—all I have saved in this world,—the lees of my life,—which I want you to take care of, and when I am dead send to my sister, who is married to ——, in Matanzas. Will you promise?”
I promised.
“And now, Don Téodor,” continued he, “I mustconfess!”
I could not repress a smile as I replied,—“But, José, I am nopadre, you know; aclerigoin no part of a slave factory; I cannot absolve your sins; and, as for myprayers, poor fellow, alas! what can they do for your sins when I fear they will hardly avail for my own!”
“It’s all one,mi capitan” answered the dying man; “it makes not the least difference, Don Téodor, if you are a clergyman or any thing else; it is the law of our church; and when confession is over, a man’s soul is easier under canvas, even if there’s no regularpadreat hand to loosen the ropes, and let one’s sins fly to the four winds of heaven. Listen,—it will be short.
“It is many years since I sailed from Havana with that notorious slaver, Miguel ——, whose murder you may have heard of on the coast. Our vessel was in capital order for speed as well as cargo, and we reached Cape Mount after a quick voyage. The place, however, was so bare of slaves, that we coasted the reefs till we learned from a Mesurado Krooman that, in less than a month, the supply at Little Bassa would be abundant. We shipped the savage with his boatman, and next day reached our destination.
“Miguel was welcomed warmly by the chiefs, who offered a choice lot of negroes for a portion of our cargo, inviting the captain to tarry with the rest of his merchandise and establish a factory. He assented; our brig was sent home with a short cargo, while I and two others landed with the captain, to aid in the erection and defence of the requisite buildings.
“It did not take long to set up our bamboo houses and open a trade, for whose supply Miguel began an intercourse with Cape Mesurado, paying in doubloons and receiving his merchandise in vessels manned by American blacks.
“Our captain was no niggard in housekeeping. Bountiful meals every day supplied his friends and factory. No man went from his door hungry or dissatisfied. When the colonists came up in their boats with goods, or walked the beach from the Cape to our settlement, Miguel was always alert with a welcome. A great intimacy, of course, ensued; and, among the whole crowd of traffickers, none were higher in our chief’s estimation than a certain T——, who rarely visited thebarracoonswithout a gift from Miguel, in addition to his stipulated pay.
“In due time the brig returned from Havana, with a cargo of rum, tobacco, powder, anda box of doubloons; but she was ordered to the Cape de Verds to change her flag. In the interval, the Mesurado colonists picked a quarrel with the Trade-Town chiefs, and, aided by an American vessel, under Colombian colors, landed a division of colonial troops and destroyed the Spanish barracoons.[G]
“The ruin of a Spanish factory could not be regarded by our captain with any other feeling than that of resentment. Still, he manifested his sensibility by coolness towards the colonists, or by refraining from thatprofitablewelcome to which they had hitherto been accustomed. But the Monrovians were not to be rebuffed by disdain. They had heard, I suppose, of the box of doubloons, and Miguel was ‘a good fellow,’ in spite of his frigidity. They werehisfriends for ever, and all the harm that had been done his countrymen was attributable alone to their Colombian foes, and not to the colonists. Such were the constant declarations of the Monrovians, as they came, singly and in squads, to visit us after the Trade-Town plunder. T——, in particular, was loud in his protestations of regard; and such was the earnestness of his manner, that Miguel, by degrees, restored him to confidence.
“Thus, for a while, all things went smoothly, till T—— reached our anchorage, with several passengers in his craft, bound, as they said, to Grand Bassa. As usual on such visits, the whole party dined with Miguel at four in the afternoon, and,at six, retired towards their vessel, with a gift of provisions and liquor for their voyage.
“About eight o’clock, a knocking at our gates—closed invariably at dark, according to custom—gave notice that our recent guests had returned. They craved hospitality for the night. They had dallied a couple of hours on the beach, with the hope of getting off, but the surf was so perilous that no Kroomen would venture to convey them through the breakers.
“Such an appeal was, of course, enough for the heart of a courteous Spaniard,—and, on the coast, you know, it is imperative. Miguel opened the door, and, in an instant, fell dead on the threshold, with a ball in his skull. Several guns were discharged, and the house filled with colonists. At the moment of attack I was busy in thebarracoon; but, as soon as I came forth, the assailants approached in such numbers that I leaped the barriers and hid myself in the forest till discovered by some friendly natives.
“I remained with these Africans several weeks, while a canoe was summoned from Gallinas for my rescue. From thence I sailed to Cuba, and was the first to apprise our owners of the piratical onslaught by which the factory had been destroyed.
“After this, I made several successful voyages to the coast; and, at last, sauntering one evening along thepaseoat Havana, I met Don Miguel’s brother, who, after a sorrowful chat about the tragedy, offered me a quarter-master’s berth in a brig he was fitting out for Africa. It was accepted on the spot.
“In a month we were off Mesurado, and cruised for several days from the cape to Grand Bassa, avoiding every square-rigged vessel that loomed above the horizon. At length, we espied a small craft beating down the coast. We bore the stranger company for several hours, till, suddenly taking advantage of her long tack out to sea, we gave chase and cut off her return towards land.
“It was a fine afternoon, and the sun was yet an hour in the sky when we intercepted the schooner. As we ran alongside, I thought I recognized the faces of several who, in days of old, wore familiar in our factory,—but what was my surprise, whenT—— himself came to the gangway, and hailed us in Spanish!
“I pointed out the miscreant to my comrade, and, in an instant, he was in our clutches. We let the sun go down before we contrived a proper death for the felon. His five companions, double-ironed, were nailed beneath the hatches in the hold. After this, we riveted the murderer, in chains, to the mainmast, and, for better security, fastened his spread arms to the deck by spikes through his hands. Every sail was then set on the craft, two barrels of tar were poured over the planks, and a brand was thrown in the midst of the combustible materials. For a while, the schooner was held by a hawser till we saw the flames spread from stern to cut-water, and then, with a cheer,adios! It was a beautiful sight,—thatauto-da-fé, on the sea, in the darkness!
“My confession, Don Téodor, is over. From that day, I have never been within a church or alongside apadre; but I could not die without sending the gold to my sister, and begging a mass in some parish for the rest of my soul!”
I felt very conscious that I was by no means the person to afford ghostly consolation to a dying man under such circumstances, but while I promised to fulfil his request carefully, I could not help inquiring whether he sincerely repented these atrocious deeds?
“Ah! yes, Don Téodor, a thousand times! Many a night, when alone on my watch at sea, or in yonder stockade, marching up and down before thebarracoon, I have wept like a child for the innocent crew of that little schooner; but, as for the murderer ofDon Miguel—!” He stared wildly for a minute into my eyes—shuddered—fell back—was dead!
I have no doubt the outlaw’s story contained exaggerations, or fell from a wrecked mind that was drifting into eternity on the current of delirium. I cannot credit his charge against the Monrovian colonists; yet I recount the narrative as an illustration of many a bloody scene that has stained the borders of Africa.
FOOTNOTE:[G]The reader will recollect this is notCanot’sstory, but the sailor’s.
[G]The reader will recollect this is notCanot’sstory, but the sailor’s.
[G]The reader will recollect this is notCanot’sstory, but the sailor’s.
During my first visit to Digby, I promised my trading friends—perhaps rather rashly—that I would either return to their settlement, or, at least, send merchandise and a clerk to establish a factory. This was joyous news for the traffickers, and, accordingly, I embraced an early occasion to despatch, in charge of a clever young sailor, such stuffs as would be likely to tickle the negro taste.
There were two towns at Digby, governed by cousins who had always lived in harmony. My mercantile venture, however, was unhappily destined to be the apple of discord between these relatives. The establishment of so important an institution as a slave-factory within the jurisdiction of the younger savage, gave umbrage to the elder. His town could boast neither of “merchandise” nor a “white man;” there was no profitable tax to be levied from foreign traffic; and, in a very short time, this unlucky partiality ripened the noble kinsmen into bitter enemies.
It is not the habit in Africa for negroes to expend their wrath in harmless words, so that preparations were soon made in each settlement for defence as well as hostility. Both towns were stockaded and carefully watched by sentinels, day and night. At times, forays were made into each other’s suburbs, but as the chiefs were equally vigilant and alert, the extent of harm was the occasional capture of women or children, as they wandered to the forest and stream for wood and water.
This dalliance, however, did not suit the ardor of my angry favorite. After wasting a couple of months, he purchased the aid of certainbushmen, headed by a notorious scoundrel named Jen-ken, who had acquired renown for his barbarous ferocity throughout the neighborhood. Jen-ken and his chiefs werecannibals, and never trod the war-path without a pledge to return laden with human flesh to gorge their households.
Several assaults were made by this savage and hisbushmenon the dissatisfied cousin, but as they produced no significant results, the barbarians withdrew to the interior. A truce ensued. Friendly proposals were made by the younger to the elder, and again, a couple of months glided by in seeming peace.
Just at this time business called me to Gallinas. On my way thither I looked in at Digby, intending to supply the displeased chieftain with goods and an agent if I found the establishment profitable.
It was sunset when I reached the beach; too late, of course, to land my merchandise, so that I postponed furnishing both places until the morning. As might fairly be expected, there was abundant joy at my advent. The neglected rival was wild with satisfaction at the report that he, too, at length was favored with a “white-man.” His “town” immediately became a scene of unbounded merriment. Powder was burnt without stint. Gallons of rum were distributed to both sexes; and dancing, smoking and carousing continued till long after midnight, when all stole off to maudlin sleep.
About three in the morning, the sudden screams of women and children aroused me from profound torpor! Shrieks were followed by volleys of musketry. Then came a loud tattoo of knocks at my door, and appeals from the negro chief to rise and fly. “The town was besieged:—the head-men were on the point of escaping:—resistance was vain:—they had been betrayed—there were no fighters to defend the stockade!”
I was opening the door to comply with this advice, when my Kroomen, who knew the country’s ways even better than I, dissuaded me from departing, with the confident assurance that our assailants were unquestionably composed of the rival townsfolk,who had only temporarily discharged the bushmen to deceive my entertainer. The Kroo insisted that I had nothing to fear. We might, they said, be seized and even imprisoned; but after a brief detention, the captors would be glad enough to accept our ransom. If we fled, we might be slaughtered by mistake.
I had so much confidence in the sense and fidelity of the band that always accompanied me,—partly as boatmen and partly as body-guard,—that I experienced very little personal alarm when I heard the shouts as the savages rushed through the town murdering every one they encountered. In a few moments our own door was battered down by the barbarians, and Jen-ken, torch in hand, made his appearance, claiming us as prisoners.
Of course, we submitted without resistance, for although fully armed, the odds were so great in those ante-revolver days, that we would have been overwhelmed by a single wave of the infuriated crowd. The barbarian chief instantly selected our house for his headquarters, and despatched his followers to complete their task. Prisoner after prisoner was thrust in. At times the heavy mash of a war club and the cry of strangling women, gave notice that the work of death was not yet ended. But the night of horror wore away. The gray dawn crept through our hovel’s bars, and all was still save the groans of wounded captives, and the wailing of women and children.
By degrees, the warriors dropped in around their chieftain. Apalaver-house, immediately in front of my quarters, was the general rendezvous; and scarcely abushmanappeared without the body of some maimed and bleeding victim. The mangled but living captives were tumbled on a heap in the centre, and soon, every avenue to the square was crowded with exulting savages. Rum was brought forth in abundance for the chiefs. Presently, slowly approaching from a distance, I heard the drums, horns, and war-bells; and, in less than fifteen minutes, a procession of women, whose naked limbs were smeared with chalk and ochre, poured into the palaver-house to join the beastly rites. Each of these devils was armed with a knife, and bore in her hand some cannibal trophy. Jen-ken’s wife, a corpulent wench of forty-five,—dragged along the ground, by a single limb, theslimy corpse of an infant ripped alive from its mother’s womb. As her eyes met those of her husband the two fiends yelled forth a shout of mutual joy, while the lifeless babe was tossed in the air and caught as it descended on the point of a spear. Then came therefreshment, in the shape of rum, powder, and blood, which was quaffed by the brutes till they reeled off, with linked hands, in a wild dance around the pile of victims. As the women leaped and sang, the men applauded and encouraged. Soon, the ring was broken, and, with a yell, each female leaped on the body of a wounded prisoner and commenced the final sacrifice with the mockery of lascivious embraces!
In my wanderings in African forests I have often seen the tiger pounce upon its prey, and, with instinctive thirst, satiate its appetite for blood and abandon the drained corpse; but these African negresses were neither as decent nor as merciful as the beast of the wilderness. Their malignant pleasure seemed to consist in the invention of tortures, that would agonize but not slay. There was a devilish spell in the tragic scene that fascinated my eyes to the spot. A slow, lingering, tormenting mutilation was practised on the living, as well as on the dead; and, in every instance, the brutality of the women exceeded that of the men. I cannot picture the hellish joy with which they passed from body to body, digging out eyes, wrenching off lips, tearing the ears, and slicing the flesh from the quivering bones; while the queen of the harpies crept amid the butchery gathering the brains from each severed skull as abonne-bouchefor the approaching feast!
After the last victim yielded his life, it did not require long to kindle a fire, produce the requisite utensils, and fill the air with the odor ofhuman flesh. Yet, before the various messes were half broiled, every mouth was tearing the dainty morsels with shouts of joy, denoting the combined satisfaction of revenge and appetite! In the midst of this appalling scene, I heard a fresh cry of exultation, as a pole was borne into the apartment, on which was impaled the living body of the conquered chieftain’s wife. A hole was quickly dug, the stave planted and fagots supplied; but before a fire could be kindled the wretchedwoman was dead, so that the barbarians were defeated in their hellish scheme of burning her alive.
I do not know how long these brutalities lasted, for I remember very little after this last attempt, except that the bush men packed in plantain leaves whatever flesh was left from the orgie, to be conveyed to their friends in the forest. This was the first time it had been my lotto behold the most savage development of African nature under the stimulus of war. The butchery made me sick, dizzy, paralyzed. I sank on the earth benumbed with stupor; nor was I aroused till nightfall, when my Kroomen bore me to the conqueror’s town, and negotiated our redemption for the value of twenty slaves.
I hope that no one will believe I lingered a moment in Digby, or ever dealt again with its miscreants, after the dreadful catastrophe I have described in the last chapter. It is true that this tragedy might never have happened within the territory of the rival kinsmen had not the temptations of slave-trade been offered to their passionate natures; yet the event was so characteristic, not only of slave-war but of indigenous barbarity, that I dared not withhold it in these sketches of my life.
Light was not gleaming over the tops of the forest next morning before I was on the beach ready to embark for Gallinas. But the moon was full, and the surf so high that my boat could not be launched. Still, so great were my sufferings and disgust that I resolved to depart at all hazards; and divesting myself of my outer garments, I stepped into a native canoe with one man only to manage it, and dashed through the breakers. Our provisions consisted of three bottles of gin, a jug of water, and a basket of raw cassava, while a change of raiment and my accounts were packed in an air-tight keg. Rough as was the sea, we succeeded in reaching the neighborhood of Gallinas early next morning. My Spanish friends on shore soon detected me with their excellent telescopes, by my well-known cruising dress of red flannel shirt and Panama hat; but, instead of running tothe beach with a welcome, they hoisted the black flag, which is ever a signal of warning to slavers.
My Krooman at once construed the telegraphic despatch as an intimation that the surf was impassable. Indeed, the fact was visible enough even to an uninstructed eye, as we approached the coast. For miles along the bar at the river’s mouth, the breakers towered up in tall masses, whitening the whole extent of beach with foam. As our little canoe rose on the top of the swell, outside the rollers, I could see my friends waving their hats towards the southward, as if directing my movements towards Cape Mount.
In my best days on the coast I often swam in perilous seasons a far greater distance than that which intervened betwixt my boat and the shore. My companions at Gallinas well knew my dexterity in the water, and I could not comprehend, therefore, why they forbade my landing, with so much earnestness. In fact, their zeal somewhat nettled me, and I began to feel that dare-devil resistance which often goads us to acts of madness which make us heroes if successful, but fools if we fail.
It was precisely this temper that determined me to hazard the bar; yet, as I rose on my knees to have a better view of the approaching peril, I saw the black flag thrice lowered in token of adieu. Immediately afterward it was again hoistedover the effigy of an enormous shark!
In a twinkling, I understood therealcause of danger, which no alacrity or courage in the water could avoid, and comprehended that my only hope was in the open sea. A retreat to Cape Mount was a toilsome task for my wearyKrooman, who had been incessantly at work for twenty-four hours. Yet, there were but two alternatives,—either to await the subsidence of the surf, or the arrival of some friendly vessel. In the mean time, I eat my last morsel of cassava, while theKroomanstretched himself in the bottom of the canoe,—half in the water and half in the glaring sun,—and went comfortably to sleep.
I steered the boat with a paddle, as it drifted along with tide and current, till the afternoon, when a massive pile of clouds in the south-east gave warning of one of those tornadoes whichdeluge the coast of Africa in the months of March and April. A stout punch in the Krooman’s ribs restored him to consciousness from his hydropathic sleep; but he shivered as he looked at the sky and beheld a token of that greatest misfortune that can befall a negro,—a wet skin at sea from a shower of rain.
We broached our last bottle to battle the chilling element. Had we been in company with other canoes, our first duty would have been to lash the skiffs together so as to breast the gusts and chopping sea with more security; but as I was entirely alone, our sole reliance was on the expert arm and incessant vigilance of my companion.
I will not detain the reader by explaining the simple process that carried us happily through the deluge. By keeping the canoe bow on, we nobly resisted the shock of every wave, and gradually fell back under the impulse of each undulation. Thus we held on till the heavy clouds discharged their loads, beating down the sea and half filling the canoe with rain water. While the Krooman paddled and steered, I conducted the bailing, and as the African dipper was not sufficient to keep us free, I pressed my Panama hat into service as an extra hand.
These savage squalls on the African coast, at the beginning of the rainy season, are of short duration, so that our anxiety quickly left us to the enjoyment of soaking skins. A twist at my red flannel relieved it of superabundant moisture, but as the negro delighted in no covering except his flesh, an additional kiss of the bottle was the only comfort I could bestow on his shivering limbs.
This last dram was our forlorn hope, but it only created a passing comfort, which soon went off leaving our bodies more chill and dejected than before. My head swam with feverish emptiness. I seemed suddenly possessed by a feeling of wild independence—seeing nothing, fearing nothing. Presently, this died away, and I fell back in utter helplessness, wholly benumbed.
I do not remember how long this stupor lasted, but I was aroused by the Krooman with the report of a land-breeze, and a sail which he declared to be a cruiser. It cost me considerable effort to shake off my lethargy, nor do I know whether I wouldhave succeeded had there not been a medical magic in the idea of a man-of-war, which flashed athwart my mind a recollection of the slave accounts in our keg!
I had hardly time to throw the implement overboard before the craft was within hail; but instead of a cruiser she turned out to be a slaver, destined, like myself, for Gallinas. A warm welcome awaited me in the cabin, and a comfortable bed with plenty of blankets restored me for a while to health, though in all likelihood my perilous flight from Digby and its horrors, will ache rheumatically in my limbs till the hour of my death.
It was well that I did not venture through the breakers on the day that the dead shark was hoistedin terroremas a telegraph. Such was the swarm of these monsters in the surf of Gallinas, that more than a hundred slaves had been devoured by them in attempting a shipment a few nights before!
“Don Pedro Blanco had left Gallinas,—a retiredmillionnaire!” When I heard this announcement at the factory, I could with difficulty restrain the open expression of my sorrow. It confirmed me in a desire that for some time had been strengthening in my mind. Years rolled over my head since, first of all, I plunged accidentally into the slave-trade. My passion for a roving life and daring adventure was decidedly cooled. The late barbarities inflicted on the conquered in a war of which I was the involuntary cause, appalled me with the traffic; and humanity called louder and louder than ever for the devotion of my remaining days to honest industry.
As I sailed down the coast to restore a child to his father,—the King of Cape Mount,—I was particularly charmed with the bold promontory, the beautiful lake, and the lovely islands, that are comprised in this enchanting region. When I delivered the boy to his parent, the old man’s gratitude knew no bounds for his offspring’s redemption from slavery. Every thing was tendered for my recompense; and, as I seemed especially to enjoy the delicious scenery of his realm, he offered me its best location as a gift, if I desired to abandon the slave-trade and establish alawfulfactory.
I made up my mind on the spot that the day should come when I would be lord and master of Cape Mount; and, nestling under the lee of its splendid headland, might snap my fingers atthe cruisers. Still I could not, at once, retreat from my establishment at New Sestros. Don Pedro’s departure was a sore disappointment, because it left my accounts unliquidated and my release from the trade dependent on circumstances. Nevertheless, I resolved to risk his displeasure by quitting the factory for a time, and visiting him at Havana after a trip to England.
It was in the summer of 1839 that I arranged my affairs for a long absence, and sailed for London in the schooner Gil Blas. We had a dull passage till we reached the chops of the British Channel, whence a smart south-wester drove us rapidly towards our destination.
Nine at night was just striking from the clocks of Dover when a bustle on deck, a tramping of feet, a confused sound of alarm, orders, obedience and anxiety, was followed by a tremendous crash which prostrated me on the cabin floor, whence I bounded, with a single spring, to the deck. “A steamer had run us down!” Aloft, towered a huge black wall, while the intruder’s cut-water pressed our tiny craft almost beneath the tide. There was no time for deliberation. The steamer’s headway was stopped. The Gil Blas, like her scapegrace godfather, was in peril of sinking; and as the wheels began to revolve and clear the steamer from our wreck, every one scrambled in the best way he could on board the destroyer.
Our reception on this occasion by the British lion was not the most respectful or hospitable that might be imagined. In fact, no notice was taken of us by these “hearts of oak,” till a clever Irish soldier, who happened to be journeying to Dublin, invited us to the forward cabin. Our mate, however, would not listen to the proposal, and hastening to the quarter-deck, coarsely upbraided the steamer’s captain with his misconduct, and demanded suitable accommodations for his wounded commander and passengers.
In a short time the captain of the Gil Blas and I were conducted to the “gentlemen’s cabin,” and as I was still clad in thethin cotton undress in which I was embarking for the land of dreams when the accident occurred, a shirt and trowsers were handed me fresh from the slop-shop. When my native servant appeared in the cabin, a shower of coppers greeted him from the passengers.
Next morning we were landed at Cowes, and as the steward claimed the restitution of a pair of slippers in which I had encased my toes, I was forced to greet the loyal earth of England with bare feet as well as uncovered head. Our sailors, however, were better off. In the forecastle they had fallen into the hands of Samaritans. A profusion of garments was furnished for all their wants, while a subscription, made up among the soldiers and women, supplied them with abundance of coin for their journey to London.
An economical life in Africa, and a series of rather profitable voyages, enabled me to enjoy my wish to see London, “above stairs as well as below.”
I brought with me from Africa a body-servant named Lunes, an active youth, whose idea of city-life and civilization had been derived exclusively from glimpses of New Sestros and Gallinas. I fitted him out on my arrival in London as a fashionable “tiger,” with red waistcoat, corduroy smalls, blue jacket and gold band; and trotted him after me wherever I went in search of diversion. It may be imagined that I was vastly amused by the odd remarks and the complete amazement, with which this savage greeted every object of novelty or interest. After he became somewhat acquainted with the streets of London, Lunes occasionally made explorations on his own account, yet he seldom came back without a tale that showed the African to have been quite as much a curiosity to the cockneys as the cockneys were to the darkey.
It happened just at this time that “Jim Crow” was the rage at one of the minor theatres, and as I felt interested to know how the personification would strike the boy, I sent him one night to the gallery with orders to return as soon as the piece was concluded. But the whole night passed without the appearance ofmy valet. Next morning I became anxious about his fate, and, after waiting in vain till noon, I employed a reliable officer to search for the negro, without disclosing the fact of his servitude.
In the course of a few hours poor Lunes was brought to me in a most desolate condition. His clothes were in rags, and his gold-lace gone. It appeared that “Jim Crow” had outraged his sense of African character so greatly that he could not restrain his passion; but vented it in the choicestbillingsgatewith which his vocabulary had been furnished in the forecastle of the “Gil Blas.” His criticism of the real Jim was by no means agreeable to the patrons of the fictitious one. In a moment there was a row; and the result was, that Lunes after a thorough dilapidation of his finery departed in custody of the police, more, however, for the negro’s protection than his chastisement.
The loss of his dashing waistcoat, and the sound thrashing he received at the hands of a London mob while asserting the dignity of his country, and a night in the station house, spoiled my boy’s opinion of Great Britain. I could not induce him afterwards to stir from the house without an escort, nor would he believe that every policeman was not specially on the watch to apprehend him. I was so much attached to the fellow, and his sufferings became so painful, that I resolved to send him back to Africa; nor shall I ever forget his delight when my decision was announced. The negro’s joy, however, was incomprehensible to my fellow-lodgers, and especially to the gentle dames, who could not believe that an African, whose liberty was assured in England, wouldvoluntarilyreturn to Africa and slavery!
One evening, just before his departure, Lunes was sternly tried on this subject in my presence in the parlor, yet nothing could make him revoke his trip to the land of palm-trees andmalaria. London was too cold for him;—he hated stockings;—shoes were an abomination!
“Yet, tell me, Lunes,” said one of the most bewitching of my fair friends,—“how is it that you go home to be a slave, when you may remain in London as a freeman?”
I will repeat his answer—divested of its native gibberish:
“Yes, Madam, I go—because I like my country best; if Iam to be a slave or work, I want to do so for a trueSpaniard. I don’t like this thing, Miss,”—pointing to his shirt collar,—“it cuts my ears;—I don’t like this thing”—pointing to his trowsers; “I like my country’s fashion better than yours;”—and, taking out a large handkerchief, he gave the inquisitive dame a rapid demonstration of African economy in concealing nakedness, by twisting it round those portions of the human frame which modesty is commonly in the habit of hiding!
There was a round of applause and a blaze of blushes at this extemporaneous pantomime, which Lunes concluded with the assurance that he especially loved his master, because,—“when he grew to be a proper man, I would give him plenty of wives!”
I confess that my valet’s philanthropic audience was not exactly prepared for this edifying culmination in favor of Africa; but, while my friends were busy in obliterating the red and the wrinkles from their cheeks, I took the liberty to enjoy, from behind the shadow of my tea cup, the manifest disgust they felt for the bad taste of poor Lunes!
By this time my curiosity was not only satiated by the diversions of the great metropolis, but I had wandered off to the country and visited the most beautiful parts of the islands. Two months thus slipped by delightfully in Great Britain when a sense of duty called me to Havana; yet, before my departure, I resolved, if possible, to secure the alliance of some opulent Englishman to aid me in the foundation and maintenance of lawful commerce at Cape Mount. Such a person I found in Mr. George Clavering Redman, of London, who owned the Gil Blas, which, with two other vessels, he employed in trade between England and Africa.
I had been introduced to this worthy gentleman as “a lawful trader on the coast,” still, as I did not think that business relations ought to exist between us while he was under so erroneous an impression, I seized an early opportunity to unmask myself. At the same time, I announced my unalterable resolution to abandon a slaver’s life for ever; to establish a trading post at some fortunate location; and, while I recounted the friendship and peculiar bonds between the king and myself, offered to purchase Cape Mount from its African proprietor, if such an enterprise should be deemed advisable.
Redman was an enterprising merchant. He heard my proposal with interest, and, after a few days’ consideration,assented to a negotiation, as soon as I gave proofs of having abandoned the slave traffic for ever. It was understood that no contract was to be entered into, or document signed, till I was at liberty to withdraw completely from Don Pedro Blanco and all others concerned with him. This accomplished, I was to revisit England and assume my lawful functions.
When I landed in the beautiful Queen of the Antilles I found Don Pedro in no humor to accede to these philanthropic notions. The veteran slaver regarded me, no doubt, as a sort of cross between a fool and zealot. An American vessel had been recently chartered to carry a freight to the coast; and, accordingly, instead of receiving a release from servitude, I was ordered on board the craft as supercargo of the enterprise! In fact, on the third day after my arrival at Havana, I was forced to re-embark for the coast without a prospect of securing my independence.
The reader may ask why I did not burst the bond, and free myself at a word from a commerce with which I was disgusted? The question isnatural—but the reply ishuman. I had too large an unliquidated interest at New Sestros, and while it remained so, I was not entitled to demand from my employer a final settlement for my years of labor. In other wordsI was in his power, so far as my means were concerned, and my services were too valuable to be surrendered by him voluntarily.
A voyage of forty-two days brought me once more to New Sestros, accompanied by a couple of negro women, who paid their passage and were lodged very comfortably in the steerage. The elder was about forty and extremely corpulent, while her companion was younger as well as more comely.
This respectable dame, after an absence of twenty-four years, returned to her native Gallinas, on a visit to her father, king Shiakar. At the age of fifteen, she had been taken prisoner and sent to Havana. A Cuban confectioner purchased the likely girl, and, for many years, employed her in hawking his cakes and pies. In time she became a favorite among the townsfolk, and,by degrees, managed to accumulate a sufficient amount to purchase her freedom. Years of frugality and thrift made her proprietor of a house in the city and an egg-stall in the market, when chance threw in her way a cousin, lately imported from Africa, who gave her news of her father’s family. A quarter of a century had not extinguished the natural fire in this negro’s heart, and she immediately resolved to cross the Atlantic and behold once more the savage to whom she owed her birth.
I sent these adventurous women to Gallinas by the earliest trader that drifted past New Sestros, and learned that they were welcomed among the islands with all the ceremony common among Africans on such occasions. Several canoes were despatched to the vessel, with flags, tom-toms, and horns, to receive and welcome the ladies. On the shore, a procession was formed, and a bullock offered to the captain in token of gratitude for his attention.
When her elder brother was presented to the retired egg-merchant, he extended his arms to embrace his kinswoman; but, to the amazement of all, she drew back with a mere offer of her hand, refusing every demonstration of affectiontill he should appear dressed with becoming decency. This rebuke, of course, kept the rest of her relatives at bay, for there was a sad deficiency of trowsers in the gang, and it was the indispensable garment that caused so unsisterly a reception.
But Shiakar’s daughter, travelled as she was, could neither set the fashions nor reform the tastes of Gallinas. After a sojourn of ten days, she bade her kindred an eternal adieu, and returned to Havana, disgusted with the manners and customs of her native land.
On my return to New Sestros, I found that the colonial authorities of Liberia had been feeling the pulse of my African friend, Freeman, in order to secure the co-operation of that distinguished personage in the suppression of the slave traffic. Freeman professed his willingness to conclude a treaty of commerce and amity with Governor Buchanan, but respectfully declined to molest the factories within his domain.
Still, Buchanan was not to be thwarted by a single refusal, and enlisted the sympathy of an officer in command of a United States cruiser, who accompanied the governor to the anchorage at New Sestros. As soon as these personages reached their destination, a note was despatched to the negro potentate, desiring him to expel from his territory all Spaniards who were possessed of factories. To this, it is said, the chief returned a short and tart rebuke for the interference with his independence; whereupon the following singular missive was immediately delivered to the Spaniards:—
“U. S. Brig Dolphin,
“New Sestros,March 6, 1840.
“Sir:
“I address you in consequence of having received a note from you a few evenings since; but I wish it to be understoodthat this communication is intended for all or any persons who are now in New Sestros, engaged in the slave-trade.
“I have received information that you now have, in your establishments on shore, several hundred negroes confined in barracoons, waiting for an opportunity to ship them. Whether you are Americans, English, French, Spaniards, or Portuguese, you are acting in violation of the established laws of your respective countries, and, therefore, are not entitled to any protection from your governments. You have placed yourselves beyond the protection of any civilized nation, as you are engaged in a traffic which has been madepiracyby most of the Christian nations of the world.
“As I have been sent by my government to root out, if possible, this traffic on and near our settlements on the coast, I must now give you notice, that you must break up your establishment at this point, in two weeks from this date; failing to do so, I shall take such measures as I conceive necessary to attain this object. I will thank you to send a reply to this communication immediately, stating your intentions, and also sending an account of the number of slaves you have on hand.
“I am, &c., &c., &c.,
“Charles R. Bell,
“Lieut. Com. U. S. Naval Forces, Coast of Africa.
“To Mr. A.Demerand others,
“New Sestros,Coast of Africa.”
I do not know what reply was made to this communication, as a copy was not retained; but when my clerk handed me the original letter from Lieutenant Bell, on my arrival from Cuba I lost no time in forwarding the following answer to Col. Hicks, at Monrovia, to be despatched by him to the American officer:
“To Charles R. Bell, Esq.,
“Lieut. Com. of the U. S. Forces, Coast of Africa, Monrovia.
“New Sestros,April 2, 1840.
“Sir:
“Your letter of the 6th March, directed to the white residents of New Sestros, was handed me on my return to thiscountry, and I am sorry I can make but the following short answer.
“First, sir, you seem to assume a supremacy over the most civilized nations of the world, and, under the doubtful pretext of your nation’s authority, threaten to land and destroy our property on these neutral shores. Next, you are pleased to inform us that all Christian nations have declared the slave-tradepiracy, and that we are not entitled to any protection from our government. Why, then, do the Southern States of your great confederacy allow slavery, public auctions, transportation from one State to another,—not only of civilized black native subjects,—but of nearly white, American, Christian citizens? Such is the case in your free and independent country; and, though the slave-trade is carried on in the United States of America with more brutality than in any other colony, I still hope you are a Christian!
“To your third article, wherein you observe, having ‘been sent by your government to root out this traffic, if possible, near your own settlements on the coast,’—allow me to have my doubts of such orders. Your government could not have issued them without previously making them publicly known;—and, permit me to say, those Christian nations you are pleased to mention, are not aware that your nation had set up colonies on the coast of Africa. They were always led to believe that these Liberian settlements were nothing but Christian beneficial societies, humanely formed by private philanthropists, to found a refuge for the poor blacks born in America, who cannot be protected in their native country by the free and independent laws and institutions of the United States.
“If my argument cannot convince you that you are not justified in molesting a harmless people on these desolate shores, allow me to inform you that, should you put your threats in execution and have the advantage over us, many factories would suffer by your unjust attack, which would give them an indisputable right to claim high damages from your government.
“Most of the white residents here, are, and have been, friendly to Americans at large; some have been educated inyour country, and it would be the saddest day of their lives, if obliged to oppose by force of arms the people of a nation they love as much as their own countrymen. The undersigned, in particular, would wish to observe that the same spirit that led him to avenge Governor Findley’s murder, will support him in defence of his property, though much against his inclination.
“I remain, very respectfully,
“Your obedient servant,
“Theodore Canot.”
This diplomatic encounter terminated the onslaught. Buchanan, who was over hasty with military display on most occasions, made a requisition for volunteers to march against New Sestros. But the troops were never set in motion. In the many years of my residence in the colonial neighborhood, this was the only occasion that menaced our friendship or verged upon hostilities.
Whilst I was abroad in England and Cuba, mychargé d’affairesat New Sestros sent off a cargo of three hundred negroes, nearly all of whom were safely landed in the West Indies, bringing us a profit of nine thousand dollars. There were, however, still one hundred and fifty in ourbarracoonsto be shipped; and, as the cargo from the Crawford was quickly exchanged with the natives for more slaves, in two months’ time, I found my pens surcharged with six hundred human beings. Two other neighboring factories were also crammed; while, unfortunately, directly in front of us, a strong reinforcement of British men-of-war kept watch and ward to prevent our depletion.
No slaver dared show its topsails above the horizon. The season did not afford us supplies from the interior. Very few coasters looked in at New Sestros; and, as our stock of grain and provisions began to fail, the horrors of famine became the sole topic of conversation among our alarmed factors.
It will readily be supposed that every effort was made, not only to economize our scanty stores, but to increase them through the intervention of boats that were sent far and wide to scour the coast for rice and cassava. Double and triple prices were offered for these articles, yet our agents returned without the required supplies. In fact, the free natives themselves were in danger of starvation, and while they refused to part with their remnants, even under the temptation of luxuries, they sometimes sent deputations to my settlement in search of food.
By degrees I yielded to the conviction that I must diminish my mouths. First of all, I released the old and feeble from thebarracoon. This, for a few days, afforded ample relief; but, as I retained only the staunchest, the remaining appetites speedily reduced our rations to a single mealper diem. At last, the steward reported, that even this allowance could be continued for little more than a week. In twelve days, at farthest, my resources would be utterly exhausted.
In this extremity I summoned a council of neighboring chiefs, and exposing my situation, demanded their opinion as to a fitting course on the dreaded day. I had resolved to retain my blacks till the last measure was distributed, and then to liberate them to shift for themselves.
But the idea of releasing six hundred famishing foemen struck the beach people with horror. It would, they said, be a certain source of war and murder; and they implored me not to take such a step till they made every effort to ease my burden. As a beginning, they proposed at once relieving thebarracoonof a large portion of females and of all the male youths, who were to be fed and guarded by them, on my account, till better times.
By this system of colonizing I got rid of the support of two hundred and twenty-five negroes; and, as good luck would have it, a visit from a friendly coaster enabled me, within ten days, to exchange my beautiful cutter “Ruth” for a cargo of rice from the colony at Cape Palmas.
It was fortunate that in a week after this happy relief theBritish cruisers left our anchorage for a few days. No sooner were they off, than a telegraph of smoke, which, in those days, was quite as useful on the African coast, as the electric is on ours, gave notice to the notorious “Volador.” There was joy in the teeming factories when her signal was descried in the offing; and, before the following dawn, seven hundred and forty-nine human beings, packed within her one hundred and sixty-five tons, were on their way to Cuba.
This was the last cargo of slaves I ever shipped!