CHAPTER XXV.
On gaining the deck, all eyes were turned in the direction of the strange ship. It was a clear, fine night, and the wind and sea moderate.
“Ah, that’s a merchant ship,” said Captain O’Loughlin, looking through his night-glass. “I am sure of it. What has brought her so close in with the French coast? It’s a great and unnecessary risk.”
The stranger was soon within hailing distance. The Onyx altered her course, and then ran in a parallel line with the strange vessel; she was a full-rigged ship, under top-gallant sails. The Lieutenant hailed her, demanding from whence she sailed, and where bound to. They saw at a glance she was an English ship, but she might be in the hands of a prize crew, running for some French port.
A strong, manly voice replied that the vessel was the Flying Fish, from Jamaica to London. She had been chased by a French frigate until close in with the French coast, where she fell in with three English ships of war. One gave chase to the Frenchman, and she continued her voyage. One of the English vessels hailed her, asking name, &c.; told her she would fall in with the Onyx, off Havre, and that there was little or no risk of encountering an enemy as she was then steering; the wind was too scant to keep off the land.
Captain O’Loughlin told the captain he had better get on the other tack, and make the best of his way and sight the English coast. The Flying Fish then put about, and after exchanging compliments, the two ships separated; as did the friends, for the night. Nothing particular occurred the following day, there being little or no wind, so the party again assembled in the cabin, and Julian Arden resumed his narrative.
“As we sat, or rather reposed on the heaps of soft grass,” began Julian Arden, “after finishing our meal, the stranger told me he should like to know something about me; how I came to be mixed up in the French Revolution, and what I intended doing with myself in such a pestiferous climate as Sierra Leone. I merely told him my father was an English gentleman of the name of Arden, and that my mother, some time after his death, was, in a certain measure, forced to marry the Duke de Coulancourt; and then I briefly related how I lost my poor mother and sister, and my own sufferings in prison. I saw the tears in the eyes of the two young girls, and felt flattered by the kind commiseration of both father and daughters.
“‘Well, young gentleman,’ said the Englishman, ‘I think the best thing, and indeed the only thing you can do, is to geta passage in the first ship that touches here for England: arrived there, you will easily discover your relatives. Now I will tell you who I am, and what my intentions are, for I am not a resident here, I assure you, of my own free will. My name is Packenham, I am colonel of the —— Regiment. We were returning to England from the Cape, when we were sighted and chased by a remarkably fast privateer under the tricolour. Our ship was a new vessel, with a stout-hearted skipper, and a brave crew; and after an action, sharp, and of long duration, we beat the fellow off; but he so cut up our sails and rigging, and damaged our spars, that in a succession of gales, some days after, we were close driven towards the coast of Africa, and in a tremendous squall lost our fore-mast, and finally went ashore two leagues to the eastward of the new town. Fortunately, our ship was a strong one; she held together for two days, and we all, captain and crew, got safely on shore. But scarcely had we secured our baggage and effects before another hurricane, from a worse point, knocked the vessel all to pieces. We proceeded to the town, and strange enough I found settled there a very old friend and brother in arms, a Captain Stanhope, who had been induced to come out here by the Sierra Leone Company. He had a wife and eight children, and hoped to support them on his half pay and the stipend allowed him by the company. He is now with his two fine boys and four girls, all that’s left, up at Fort Banca, which we must endeavour to reach to-night. Our unfortunate skipper and his crew sailed in a miserably small schooner with what was saved from the wreck, about three weeks after our misfortune. I would not venture my children in her, so my friend Stanhope got me a house, and these two comely young negresses to attend on us, and I hired a negro, and here we have been waiting the arrival of some merchant ship from England, or a man-of-war, but not one has touched here since; and now these confoundedsans culotteshave knocked down our house and driven us into the woods. The best thing you can do is to return to England with us. I will do my best to supply your wants, having luckily saved all my own effects, for the moment we perceived these French ships we all sent off our effects to Fort Banca; of course, we could offer no resistance.’
“I returned Colonel Packenham my most sincere thanks for his generous intentions. As the day wore on, we became anxious to know whether the French had returned to their ships. I offered to go and endeavour to discover, but one of the black attendants who was on the look out came running into our retreat, saying—
“‘Massa! Massa! Pompey, he come!’
In a few minutes a fine able-bodied negro made his appearance;he was startled at seeing me in the attire of a French sailor, but the Colonel told him it was all right, that I was an Englishman.
“‘Ah! see him berry glad, massa,’ continued Pompey. ‘De debils be all gone bord ship. De burn and carry off ebery ting, cuss ’em. De sure come again to-morrow.’
“‘Well, then, Pompey, we must set out at once for Banca, we shall find canoes on the river bank.’
“‘Certain sure, massa. Massa Stanhope ab dem ready for you.’
“‘Well, then,’ continued the Colonel, ‘pack up our traps and let us be moving, its only two miles to the river. Banca, young gentleman, is a fort or an island up the river.’
“I helped the young ladies to get all the little chattels they had brought away hastily from their house in the town, and insisted on taking my share of the burdens. The negro girls laughed and chatted as if the whole affair was a piece of amusement, and off we started. It was not so very easy to get through the entangled wood; the Colonel and Pompey led the way, whilst I assisted the daughters, cutting away the brambles and overhanging branches with an axe Pompey gave me. Having cleared the wood, we soon got over the rice grounds, and in an hour we reached the banks of the river. There we found two large canoes, with some negroes belonging to Captain Stanhope. We all embarked, and were paddled up the river, with the tide in our favour, for the island on which Fort Banca stood.
“‘I could scarcely suppose,’ I remarked to Miss Cherry Packenham, who sat next to me in the canoe, ‘that this part of the world had a climate so destructive to human life, the scenery is so beautiful. This is a fine open view, and the air, though hot, not overpoweringly so.’
“‘Ah! you will be deceived by all you see,’ said the young girl; ‘this is rather a favourable month, and this year has altogether been less destructive to human life. There is Fort Banca. I hope those horrid French ships will not attempt to come up the river, and fire upon the fort.’
“‘It looks very strong,’ I observed, ‘and, from its position, difficult to attack.’
“‘Papa says it’s all outward show; for if an enemy gets up the river, they would soon knock it to pieces.’
“Just as it began to grow dusk, we reached the landing place at Fort Banca. Colonel Packenham’s friend, Captain Stanhope, was waiting to receive him.
“‘In the name of Fate,’ said the Captain, shaking his friend the Colonel by the hand, ‘why did you not come up the river in the boats, instead of taking to the woods? The jungle is dangerous.’
“‘Faith, I thought my two little girls would have a worse chance if the enemy opened fire on the boats,’ returned the Colonel, ‘and I was so anxious for them that I started on the first opening of the fire from the French ships. Cowardly rascals to fire into the streets of the town, and our flag hauled down!’
“‘Well, here you are, safe and sound,’ said the Captain, looking at me with surprise; ‘but who is this young man—a French prisoner?’
“‘Not exactly; an Englishman under false colours.’
“The Colonel then introduced me to his friend, who very kindly welcomed me. We were all made very comfortable. I was located with the Colonel’s family, and for a few days we enjoyed quietness and peace. I was in dangerous company, for Miss Packenham had every quality besides beauty to engage the affections of our sex. Captain Stanhope’s daughters were exceedingly agreeable and pretty; and altogether, life would have been exceedingly agreeable in Fort Banca, had not there been several deaths, owing to the crowded state of the fort. We were not long, however, left in fancied security.
“One morning the alarm was sounded; the topsails of a large ship were seen ascending the river, and very soon it was ascertained, by the arrival of a canoe, that the French frigate, the Felicité, and my old ship, were coming up to attack the fort. All who could carry arms were called to aid in the defence. I gladly offered myself, and was enrolled amongst the defenders of the fort. The two frigates, having taken up a position, at once opened fire upon us, to which we replied with spirit. I felt most anxious to give my old tyrant as large a dose of shot as I could, and the second day, for some reason or other, he dropped behind the Felicité. We learned afterwards my old captain had been mortally wounded by a splinter, and died the following day; but the first lieutenant having the command, the frigate was brought into place again, and commenced a determined and fierce fire against us. We had several killed, numbers wounded, and two of our best guns dismounted, besides our walls knocked about our ears. The enemy gave us no peace, night or day. At length, nearly worn out, our ammunition almost exhausted, and half our little garrisonhors de combat, it was agreed, after a long consultation, to abandon the fort. The inhabitants of the town, therefore, began removing their effects in canoes and boats, intending to go up the river to a negro settlement, till the French fleet sailed. To deceive the enemy we kept up the best cannonading we could, though, in truth, the walls were nearly in ruins. The departure of the inhabitants from the town and fort could not be seen from the ships, for the island and sudden curve of the river completely concealed our movements.
“I must now mention a circumstance I failed to do before. Amongst the persons who took refuge in the fort was an English settler, calling himself John Sinclair; he said he was of good family, from Hampshire, was about eight-and-twenty, tall, rather well-looking, and strong and active. Still, you could not call him a gentleman. He possessed a considerable sum of money when he arrived from England, with which he purchased land and negroes, male and female. For two years he led a wild, irregular life; was said to have committed some very bad acts, in fact, he began to be shunned and feared; but, all of a sudden he sold his land, purchased a house in the new town, kept five or six negroes, and set up a kind of store, and, up to the arrival of Colonel Packenham, lived tolerably quiet. It seems he saw the Colonel’s eldest daughter, and openly declared his admiration of her, and became so marked in his endeavours to intrude himself on Miss Packenham’s presence, that the Colonel got angry, and some harsh words ensued; after this John Sinclair kept quiet. He was in the fort when we arrived, and made himself useful, avoided offending the Colonel, but seemed to take a positive dislike to me, and one day had the impudence to tell me I was half a Frenchman. It was no time to quarrel, therefore I merely replied I would take an opportunity to convince him I was entirely an Englishman. The increasing dangers of the siege so occupied us all that I thought little about John Sinclair. I passed all my spare time in the company of the Colonel’s daughters, and every day increased the feeling of affection I experienced for Cherry Packenham.
“When the garrison had resolved that the townspeople and all the females should leave, the Colonel was persuaded to leave also with his daughters, for we were only going to keep up a mock defence of the place, to give the inhabitants time to get some miles up the river, out of all fear of pursuit. I saw my kind friends off, and that the two girls and their two black attendants were in a good rowing boat, and bade them farewell for a couple of days. To my surprise, I observed John Sinclair leave in a fast boat, with his four negroes pulling. I did not dwell long on the circumstance, but in the evening I happened to hear his name mentioned by Captain Stanhope. ‘He left in his boat this morning,’ said I.
“‘Yes,’ returned the captain, ‘but he said he should be back to-night; he is a bad fellow; I have my suspicions that some years of his life he has either been a pirate or a slave-dealer; and there’s something mysterious now in his movements.’
“The next day we perceived the Felicité warping nearer to us, so we prepared for our departure, as the fort would be demolished in a few hours. Leaving the British colours flying,after discharging our three cannons—the only guns fit for service—at the frigate, we embarked in two six-paddled canoes, Captain Stanhope, his two sons, myself, and six soldiers in one, and Lieutenant Markham, a sergeant, and eight men in the other. As we pulled up the river with the flood-tide, we heard a tremendous fire opened upon the old crumbling walls of the fort, and then suddenly cease. ‘Ah!’ said Captain Stanhope, ‘they have found out that the birds are gone.’ We pulled on till the tide turned, and anchored for the night in a little creek, erected two tents we had brought with us, and made ourselves comfortable till the turn of the tide.
“‘This would be a bad adventure a month later,’ said Captain Stanhope as we rested, the Captain and Lieutenant smoking their pipes. I had not imbibed that taste, so sat enjoying a bottle of good wine, and thinking of Cherry Packenham. I asked, ‘Why?’ ‘Because,’ said the Captain, ‘some of us would be sure to catch the fever, for where we are going the country is scarcely cleared, and the jungles are pestiferous.’
“‘How far up have our friends gone?’ I demanded.
“‘Perhaps not more than two or three leagues; there is a deserted village, and plenty of huts which will afford shelter till those infernal Frenchmen take themselves off. I am sure, having no chance of plunder, they will be away from this coast in a few days. We shall then return to the town, and repair the damage.’
“The next morning early we took down our tents, packed up, and started with the first of the flood. This was a suffocatingly hot day, the river on both sides covered with an impenetrable jungle. About three o’clock we came in sight of the clearance, where the huts were; we saw the canoes all at anchor before the place, and numbers of the inhabitants crowding down to the river’s bank. ‘There is something wrong,’ said Captain Stanhope, and we paddled rapidly up. I felt, even then, I could not say why, unaccountably uneasy. As soon as we reached the banks, several persons met us, all eager to speak.
“‘What’s the matter? what’s the matter?’ said Captain Stanhope.
“‘We have bad news to tell you, Captain,’ said a gentleman of the name of Creigh, an Irish settler—‘John Sinclair carried off, in the night, Colonel Packenham’s two daughters, and the two negro girls.’
“‘Good God!’ I exclaimed, jumping ashore in an agony of mind indescribable. ‘Has no one pursued them? Which way did they go? Who helped this villain to commit such an outrage?’
“‘We can’t say,’ said several bystanders; ‘the Colonelslept in one of the huts, with his daughters, their female attendants, and the negro Pompey. In the morning the colonel was found gagged and bound, lying on the floor of the hut, and not a soul else was to be seen. All the colonel could say was, that in his sleep he was seized, a blanket forcibly held over his face and head to stifle his shouts; he was then gagged and bound, and the blanket left round his head; had he not received assistance he would have been shortly suffocated; he is very ill!’
“‘Who has gone after the ruffians?’ demanded Captain Stanhope, boiling with rage.
“‘No one as yet,’ returned several persons, together. ‘Most of the men have gone across the country to —— to see for provisions; all here are mostly women and children; we waited till you came up with the men.’
“I requested to be shown where the colonel was, whilst Captain Stanhope picked out half-a-dozen active men, and three or four active guides. The captain could not go himself, for he was lame, but his two sons promised to accompany me in the steamer. It was well known that they must have been carried off in Sinclair’s boat, for it was gone. In a most agitated state of mind, I ran to the hut where the colonel was, and entering, found him in a high fever and quite delirious. The only medical man we had was with him; nor could we learn anything from his ravings. It was no use waiting, so in less than two hours we were ready to start, well armed, for pursuit. Captain Stanhope’s two sons, Lieutenant Dobbs, and four of his men, and myself, with four good negro guides, formed the party in pursuit; each carried six rounds of ball cartridge, and provisions for four days. The provision was very simple, consisting of merely biscuit, cheese, and gourds full of rum. We could shoot plenty of game for food if required. It was surmised by Captain Stanhope that Sinclair would go no farther up the river than —— ——, he might then carry their boat over a track of land to a lake about two miles from the river’s brink. This lake was above twenty miles long, and from it ran a river communicating with the sea. At the mouth of this river was a negro village, and sometimes vessels touched at this place. It had been suspected latterly that Sinclair had associates on the coast, who had a vessel somewhere; at all events, we could easily see if the boat had been carried over land or abandoned, for the tide went no higher up the river, and the current without the tide was too fierce to stem.
“Accordingly, we started in our long light canoe, easy of carriage, and proceeded up the river, through a wild and entangled country, clothed with wood and jungle to the very water’s edge, and full of wild beasts. It was very evident nolanding could be effected on either shore, except at great risks, and quite impossible to force females through. At length we came to the end of the tide, and to the spot indicated. Our negroes at once pointed to the cleared space, and on grounding our canoe, we at once saw the tracks of many feet, also the marks of hauling a boat up the sloping bank. It was too late to cross to the lake that day, so the canoe was hauled up, a tent rapidly constructed of branches of trees and a quantity of matting, brought for that special purpose.
“With the earliest dawn we commenced our way to the lake, dragging our canoe over a narrow slip of swampy country. The track of the other boat and the marks of many feet could also be seen, and amongst them those of the feet of the two black girls, but no trace of the feet of the two Misses Packenham, so we conjectured they had been carried in the boat. It was a dead level, and no doubt at times was overflowed by either the waters of the lake or the river. About noon we reached the borders of as dismal and gloomy a lake as could be imagined, the shores being covered with low entangled masses of vegetation. No trees or high land on either side, the water black, and a hot breeze swept over its surface; there were no islands, and its length appeared about twenty miles, by three and sometime five miles in breadth. From where we were no river could be seen running into it, and yet it must be fed by either streams or springs, for the negroes said where it ran into the sea the stream was broad and rapid, but before reaching the sea it dwindled away into the several small unnavigable streams, running through dangerous sands, bordering a safe kind of creek where small vessels often anchored, and where slaves were often shipped. They also said that the people were very wild and bad, and would seize and sell any one they could get for slaves.
“As we launched our canoe, the wind began to blow with great violence from the sea; we were just at the end of the rainy season. The last week in October the rains were over, but sudden gales and squalls were frequent. By keeping close in with the western shore we were enabled to traverse the lake, but the twenty miles took us till dark, so we were forced to pull our canoe upon a bank, and make the best shelter we could for the night, amidst a frightful storm of rain, thunder, and lightning. The next morning it cleared, but blew tremendously in from the sea. We resolved to leave our boat, and make for the negro village on foot across a sandy waste. I was standing on the summit of a small hillock of sand, gazing in the direction of the negro village, when I saw a man coming across one of the streams that ran through the sands towards me. I soon discovered he was a negro with a bandage round his head; hehad no clothing except his waist-cloth: to my intense joy, as he came nearer I recognised Pompey, Colonel Packenham’s faithful negro. He recognised me before I knew him, and the poor fellow’s joy was great. His head and hair were matted with blood. Some of our party soon joined us. Pompey, in his own way, gave the account of their seizure. He said he was sleeping, covered with a piece of matting, outside his master’s hut, and the first thing that woke him was a blow on the head with a piece of wood, but as he strove to get up, a negro—he saw him plain enough—struck him senseless with a hatchet: in fact the poor fellow had a frightful gash in his head. When he recovered he found himself in a large boat, full of negroes and three white men, with the Misses Packenham crying bitterly in each other’s arms, and their two black servants. When he attempted to move, the negroes rowing the boat kicked and beat him, so he lay still. When they arrived at the halting place, they stripped him, gave him a cloth and an old piece of canvas to tie over the bleeding cut in his head, and then dragged the boat over the land with the two young girls in her; all the rest had to walk. Pompey was made to assist in dragging the boat; then they passed down the lake, and got, by pulling the boat through the shallows, into the creek before the negro town. There was a fine schooner at anchor before the village, and on board this vessel they carried the distracted girls, and thrust Pompey into the hold, which was fitted up for two hundred slaves, of which there were one hundred and thirty on board. It was a Spanish vessel, and carried twelve hands; sixty or seventy slaves remained to ship, but from the heavy gale and neglecting proper precautions, she went ashore from the force of the wind, though there was no sea; in the confusion Pompey made his escape, with several other slaves; but they separated before Pompey fell in with us.
“We all now assembled and consulted as to how we should proceed. We were ten well-armed men; the storm had wonderfully befriended us, for it was very certain had the schooner remained afloat, it would by this time have been at sea, and the unfortunate girls lost. It was horrible to think what might be their fate. As I said, we were ten in all, well-armed and determined men. We thought it probable that we should have to contend with the crew of the schooner, and John Sinclair and his associates; but if we could get at the place where the slaves were confined—for when the schooner stranded they were taken out of her and confined in the great sheds erected for the purpose of holding them till ready to be embarked—by giving them freedom we should greatly embarrass our enemies. So being resolved, and ready to set out, we followed Pompey, who undertook to take us round the baseof the hill, so that we should not be perceived till ready to make a rush upon the sheds. I asked Pompey where he thought the two young ladies were confined. He said he was sure they were in the cabin of the schooner. She was, though ashore, nearly upright, but they could not get her off before the next rise in the tide, and that would not be for four days.
“After an hour’s walking and wading, we got safely to the back of the hills sheltering the cove and the slave station, and then, by a rugged path, well known to Pompey—for he himself had once been a prisoner there and about to be shipped when he escaped—we came nearly in view of the station, when our ears were saluted by the reports of muskets, the shouts, cries, and fierce yells of negroes; and, rushing forward, we beheld below us a scene of indescribable contention. Some two or three hundred negroes were furiously attacking a number of white men, who tried to save themselves behind the huts, firing and killing many of the negroes. With the white men were a number of blacks fighting on their side. Lying on the beach was the schooner, and on her decks were several men, trying to bring the two eight-pounders she had on board to bear upon the liberated slaves, of whom a large party were carrying combustibles to fire the schooner, which lay high and dry.
“‘Good God!’ I exclaimed, ‘we have no time to lose; the blacks will fire the schooner; let us make for the vessel.’
“We rushed down the hill, and in five minutes were in the midst of the conflict. Ten or twelve blacks and three whites lay stark and stiff on the ground.
“Pompey kept screaming to his countrymen that we were not come against them, but against Sinclair and the people of the schooner.
“The blacks raised a tremendous yell, and made a rush upon Sinclair and five white men, who were defending a large shed; but John Sinclair and his men saw us at once, and levelled their muskets at us as we advanced, wounding two of our party slightly. They then, cutlass and pistol in hand, made for the schooner, just as the crew, having brought the bow gun to act, fired it loaded with grape amongst the infuriated slaves, killing several and wounding numbers. This only exasperated them ten-fold. I was the youngest and fastest on foot of our little band, and, with a cutlass and pistol, I rushed after John Sinclair, to cut him off before he could get into the schooner. His five companions were some yards ahead—most anxious to reach the vessel, knowing they could make a desperate fight of it from her deck. I came within a yard of him, and, in my bitterness of feeling, I couldhave shot him, but I did not. He heard me calling on him, and, turning, deliberately fired his pistol, with a frightful curse, within a foot of my face. The ball merely raised the skin of my cheek, and then I made a cut at him with my cutlass, but he was a strong, powerful man—he knocked up the weapon, and made a cut at me, but slipped and stumbled. The next instant three or four negroes threw themselves, with yells horrible to hear, upon the man, and casting him upon the beach, despite all I could do, beat his brains out with hatchets; but the same instant the gun from the schooner was levelled at them, and stretched many of them, bleeding and wounded, beside their victim. A body of more than one hundred and fifty negroes now rushed frantically at the schooner; our party, excepting a few wounds and bruises, were all right, and Lieutenant Dobbs called out to those on the schooner’s deck to surrender, and give up the two young ladies on board, and their attendants, or the blacks would fire the vessel and murder them. Their reply was a volley of oaths and pistol shots. So we swung ourselves up by the ropes from the bowsprit, the blacks following, yelling with fury; but the nine men on board did not stop to resist us—they swung down over the quarters and made a rush for their boat, launched her, and pulled out into the bay. The schooner was gained by the maddened negroes, who commenced ransacking every part of her for spirits, and, having hauled up a cask, they broke in the head, and, with the yells and shouts of demons, commenced a negro orgie.
“Whilst this was going on, Lieutenant Dobbs and I broke open the cabin door, which was locked, and a bar placed across it. A cry of despair came from the cabin; I rushed in, and, with inexpressible delight, beheld the two sisters locked in each other’s arms, and the two horrified black girls on their knees beside them. But a faint light entered the cabin from bulls’ eyes on the deck, the skylight having been covered over. At first the two girls, who were paralysed by the firing and the hideous uproar above, did not recognise us as deliverers, but the sound of my voice re-assured them. Starting up, they threw themselves into my arms, and embraced me as a brother, with hysterical emotion, and bursting into a flood of tears.
“Pompey came rushing into the cabin, saying—‘Massa, massa, be quick; de fire de ship, and turn debbles wid drink; de turn and kill us, may be!’ The men above called out also to be quick, for the negroes were raving mad, and had set fire to the fore-cabin of the schooner.
“Having assured the terrified girls that their father was alive and quite safe—I did not like to say he was in a fever—we hurried on deck. It was a scene of horror. The negroes haddrunk the spirit as if it were water; some howling and yelling, leaping about the deck, others lying about stupefied. Flames were coming up from the fore-cabin, and a set of drunken negroes were dancing around it, hand in hand, screaming and yelling.
“‘We must be off this instant,’ said Henry Stanhope; ‘they will surely turn upon us, if only one black rascal gives the signal. We have ropes ready to lower the females over the side.’
“In a few minutes the men flung themselves over the side, whilst Lieutenant Dobbs and I lowered the almost fainting girls, when, as Henry Stanhope expected, two or three of the drunken wretches cried out, ‘Let us kill the whites; don’t let them have the women.’ This was in their own language, which of course I did not understand, but Pompey, in his way, told us what they said. However, we all got out of the schooner safely—her fore-mast, rigging, and sails a sheet of flame. The negroes, all that could, threw themselves pell-mell over the side, for it was getting too hot for them, whilst we, supporting and partly carrying the poor girls, hurried from the place, avoiding the huts, and making the best of our way to our boat, which we reached at night-fall, thanking God that we had so fortunately succeeded in rescuing the Misses Packenham, and escaped from the drunken fury of the liberated slaves.”