Captain Canot_ Or_ Twenty Years of an African Slaver Brantz Mayer and Theodore Canot 2920 downloads.pdf

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Captain Canot; Or, Twenty
Years of an African Slaver
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African Slaver

Author: Theodore Canot
Brantz Mayer

Release date: October 14, 2007 [eBook #23034]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23034

Credits: Produced by David Garcia, Sam W. and the Online
Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Kentuckiana Digital Library)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN
CANOT; OR, TWENTY YEARS OF AN AFRICAN SLAVER ***

CAPTAIN CANOT;

OR,

TWENTY YEARS OF AN
AFRICAN SLAVER

BEING AN ACCOUNT OF

HIS CAREER AND ADVENTURES ON THE COAST,
IN THE INTERIOR, ON SHIPBOARD, AND IN
THE WEST INDIES.

WRITTEN OUT AND EDITED FROM THE

Captain’s Journals, Memoranda and Conversations,

BY

BRANTZ MAYER.

NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,
846 & 848 BROADWAY.
LONDON: 16 LITTLE BRITAIN.
M.DCCC.LIV.

MANDINGO CHIEF AND HIS SWORD BEARER.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by
BRANTZ MAYER,
in the Clerk’s Office of the United States District Court for the District of
Maryland.

TO

N. P. WILLIS,
OF IDLEWILD.
My Dear Willis,
While inscribing this work with your name, as a testimonial of our long,
unbroken friendship, you will let me say, I am sure, not only how, but why I
have written it.
About a year ago I was introduced to its hero, by Dr. James Hall, the
distinguished founder and first governor of our colony at Cape Palmas.
While busy with his noble task in Africa, Dr. Hall accidentally became
acquainted with Captain Canot, during his residence at Cape Mount, and
was greatly impressed in his favor by the accounts of all who knew him.
Indeed,—setting aside his career as a slaver,—Dr. Hall’s observation
convinced him that Canot was a man of unquestionable integrity. The zeal,
moreover, with which he embraced the first opportunity, after his downfall,
to mend his fortunes by honorable industry in South America, entitled him
to respectful confidence. As their acquaintance ripened, my friend gradually
drew from the wanderer the story of his adventurous life, and so striking
were its incidents, so true its delineations of African character, that he
advised the captain to prepare a copious memorandum, which I should
write out for the public.

Let me tell you why I undertook this task; but first, let me assure you that,
entertaining as the story might have been for a large class of readers, I
would not have composed a line for the mere gratification of scandalous
curiosity. My conversations with Canot satisfied me that his disclosures
were more thoroughly candid than those of any one who has hitherto related
his connection with the traffic. I thought that the evidence of one who, for
twenty years, played the chief part in such a drama, was of value to society,
which, is making up its mind, not only about a great political and domestic
problem, but as to the nature of the race itself. I thought that a true picture
of aboriginal Africa,—unstirred by progress,—unmodified by reflected
civilization,—full of the barbarism that blood and tradition have handed
down from the beginning, and embalmed in its prejudices, like the corpses
of Egypt,—could not fail to be of incalculable importance to philanthropists
who regard no people as beyond the reach of enlightenment.
The completed task rises before me like a moving panorama whose scenery
and background are the ocean and tropics, and whose principal actor
combines the astuteness of Fouché with the dexterity of Gil Blas. I have
endeavored to set forth his story as plainly as possible, letting events instead
of descriptions develope a chequered life which was incessantly connected
with desperate men of both colors. As he unmasked his whole career, and
gave me leave to use the incidents, I have not dared to hide what the actor
himself displayed no wish to conceal. Besides the sketches of character
which familiarize us with the aboriginal negro in Africa, there is a good
moral in the resultless life, which, after all its toils, hazards, and successes
leaves the adventurer a stranded wreck in the prime of manhood. One half
the natural capacity, employed industriously in lawful commerce, would
have made the captain comfortable and independent. Nor is there much to
attract in the singular abnegation of civilized happiness in a slaver’s career.
We may not be surprised, that such an animal as Da Souza, who is
portrayed in these pages, should revel in the sensualities of Dahomey; but
we must wonder at the passive endurance that could chain a superior order
of man, like Don Pedro Blanco, for fifteen unbroken years, to his
pestilential hermitage, till the avaricious anchorite went forth from the
marshes of Gallinas, laden with gold. I do not think this story is likely to
seduce or educate a race of slavers!

The frankness of Canot’s disclosures may surprise the more reserved and
timid classes of society; but I am of opinion that there is an ethnographic
value in the account of his visit to the Mandingoes and Fullahs, and
especially in his narrative of the wars, jugglery, cruelty, superstition, and
crime, by which one sixth of Africa subjects the remaining five sixths to
servitude.
As the reader peruses these characteristic anecdotes, he will ask himself
how,—in the progress of mankind,—such a people is to be approached and
dealt with? Will the Mahometanism of the North which is winning its way
southward, and infusing itself among the crowds of central Africa, so as, in
some degree, to modify their barbarism, prepare the primitive tribes to
receive a civilization and faith which are as true as they are divine? Will our
colonial fringe spread its fibres from the coast to the interior, and, like veins
of refreshing blood, pour new currents into the mummy’s heart? Is there
hope for a nation which, in three thousand years, has hardly turned in its
sleep? The identical types of race, servitude, occupation, and character that
are now extant in Africa, may be found on the Egyptian monuments built
forty centuries ago; while a Latin poem, attributed to Virgil, describes a
menial negress who might unquestionably pass for a slave of our Southern
plantations:

“Interdum clamat Cybalen; erat unica custos;
Afra genus, tota patriam testante figura;
Torta comam, labroque tumens, et fusca colorem;
Pectore lata, jacens mammis, compressior alvo,
Cruribus exilis, spatiosa prodiga planta;
Continuis rimis calcanea scissa rigebant.”[1]

It will be seen from these hints that our memoir has nothing to do with
slavery as a North American institution, except so far as it is an inheritance
from the system it describes; yet, in proportion as the details exhibit an
innate or acquired inferiority of the negro race in its own land, they must
appeal to every generous heart in behalf of the benighted continent.
It has lately become common to assert that Providence permits an exodus
through slavery, in order that the liberated negro may in time return, and,
with foreign acquirements, become the pioneer of African civilization. It is

attempted to reconcile us to this “good from evil,” by stopping inquiry with
the “inscrutability of God’s ways!” But we should not suffer ourselves to be
deceived by such imaginary irreverence; for, in God’s ways, there is nothing
less inscrutable than his law of right. That law is never qualified in this
world. It moves with the irresistible certainty of organized nature, and,
while it makes man free, in order that his responsibility may be
unquestionable, it leaves mercy, even, for the judgment hereafter. Such a
system of divine law can never palliate the African slave trade, and, in fact,
it is the basis of that human legislation which converts the slaver into a
pirate, and awards him a felon’s doom.
For these reasons, we should discountenance schemes like those proposed
not long ago in England, and sanctioned by the British government, for the
encouragement of spontaneous emigration from Africa under the charge of
contractors. The plan was viewed with fear by the colonial authorities, and
President Roberts at once issued a proclamation to guard the natives. No
one, I think, will read this book without a conviction that the idea of
voluntary expatriation has not dawned on the African mind, and,
consequently, what might begin in laudable philanthropy would be likely to
end in practical servitude.
Intercourse, trade, and colonization, in slow but steadfast growth, are the
providences intrusted to us for the noble task of civilization. They who are
practically acquainted with the colored race of our country, have long
believed that gradual colonization was the only remedy for Africa as well as
America. The repugnance of the free blacks to emigration from our shores
has produced a tardy movement, and thus the African population has been
thrown back grain by grain, and not wave by wave. Every one conversant
with the state of our colonies, knows how beneficial this languid accretion
has been. It moved many of the most enterprising, thrifty, and independent.
It established a social nucleus from the best classes of American colored
people. Like human growth, it allowed the frame to mature in muscular
solidity. It gave immigrants time to test the climate; to learn the habit of
government in states as well as in families; to acquire the bearing of
freemen; to abandon their imitation of the whites among whom they had
lived; and thus, by degrees, to consolidate a social and political system
which may expand into independent and lasting nationality. Instead,
therefore, of lamenting the slowness with which the colonies have reached

their vigorous promise, we should consider it a blessing that the vicious did
not rush forth in turbulent crowds with the worthy, and impede the
movements of better folks, who were still unused to the task of self-
reliance.
Men are often too much in a hurry to do good, and mar by excessive zeal
what patience would complete. “Deus quies quia æternus,” saith St.
Augustine. The cypress is a thousand years in growth, yet its limbs touch
not the clouds, save on a mountain top. Shall the regeneration of a continent
be quicker than its ripening? That would be miracle—not progress.
Accept this offering, my dear Willis, as a token of that sincere regard,
which, during an intimacy of a quarter of a century, has never wavered in its
friendly trust.
Faithfully, yours,
Brantz Mayer.
Baltimore, 1st July, 1854.

FOOTNOTE:
[1] Moretum,—Carm. Virg. Wagner’s ed. vol. 4, p. 301.

CONTENTS.

page

CHAP. I.—My parentage and education—Apprenticed
at Leghorn to an American captain—First voyage—its
mishaps—overboard—black cook—Sumatra—cabin-
boy—Arrival in Boston—My first command—View of
Boston harbor from the mast-head—My first interview
with a Boston merchant, William Gray 1

CHAP. II.—My uncle tells my adventure with Lord
Byron—Captain Towne, and my life in Salem—My
skill in Latin—Five years voyaging from Salem—I
rescue a Malay girl at Quallahbattoo—The first slave I
ever saw—End of my apprenticeship—My
backslidings in Antwerp and Paris—Ship on a British
vessel for Brazil—The captain and his wife—Love,
grog, and grumbling—A scene in the harbor of Rio—
Matrimonial happiness—Voyage to Europe—Wreck
and loss on the coast near Ostend 10

CHAP. III.—I design going to South America—A 19
Dutch galliot for Havana—Male and female captain—
Run foul of in the Bay of Biscay—Put into Ferrol, in
Spain—I am appropriated by a new mother,
grandmother, and sisters—A comic scene—How I got
out of the scrape—Set sail for Havana—Jealousy of
the captain—Deprived of my post—Restored—Refuse
to do duty—Its sad consequences—Wrecked on a reef
near Cuba—Fisherman-wreckers—Offer to land cargo

—Make a bargain with our salvors—A sad denouement
—A night bath and escape

CHAP. IV.—Bury my body in the sand to escape the
insects—Night of horror—Refuge on a tree—Scented
by bloodhounds—March to the rancho—My guard—
Argument about my fate—“My Uncle” Rafael
suddenly appears on the scene—Magic change effected
by my relationship—Clothed, and fed, and comforted
—I find an uncle, and am protected—Mesclet—Made
cook’s mate—Gallego, the cook—His appearance and
character—Don Rafael’s story—“Circumstances”—
His counsel for my conduct on the island 31

CHAP. V.—Life on a sand key—Pirates and wreckers
—Their difference—Our galliot destroyed—the gang
goes to Cuba—I am left with Gallego—His daily
fishing and nightly flitting—I watch him—My
discoveries in the graveyard—Return of the wreckers
—“Amphibious Jews”—Visit from a Cuban inspector
—“Fishing license”—Gang goes to Cape Verde—
Report of a fresh wreck—Chance of escape—Arrival
—Return of wreckers—Bachicha and his clipper—
Death of Mesclet—My adventures in a privateer—My
restoration to the key—Gallego’s charges—His trial
and fate 41

CHAP. VI.—I am sent from the key—Consigned to a
grocer at Regla—Cibo—His household—Fish-loving
padre—Our dinners and studies—Rafael’s fate—
Havana—A slaver—I sail for Africa—The
Areostatico’s voyage, crew, gale—Mutiny—How I
meet it alone—My first night in Africa! 57

CHAP. VII.—Reflections on my conduct and character 68
—Morning after the mutiny—Burial of the dead—My

wounds—Jack Ormond or the “Mongo John”—My
physician and his prescription—Value of woman’s
milk—I make the vessel ready for her slave cargo—I
dine with Mongo John—His harem—Frolic in it—
Duplicity of my captain—I take service with Ormond
as his clerk—I pack the human cargo of the Areostatico
—Farewell to my English cabin-boy—His story

CHAP. VIII.—I take possession of my new quarters—
My household and its fittings—History of Mr. Ormond
—How he got his rights in Africa—I take a survey of
his property and of my duties—The Cerberus of his
harem—Unga-golah’s stealing—Her rage at my
opposition—A night visit at my quarters—Esther, the
quarteroon—A warning and a sentimental scene—
Account of an African factor’s harem—Mongo John in
his decline—His women—Their flirtations—Battles
among the girls—How African beaus fight a duel for
love!—Scene of passionate jealousy among the women 76

CHAP. IX.—Pains and dreariness of the “wet 84
season”—African rain!—A Caravan announced as
coming to the Coast—Forest paths and trails in Africa
—How we arrange to catch a caravan—“Barkers,”
who they are—Ahmah-de-Bellah, son of the Ali-Mami
of Footha-Yallon—A Fullah chief leads the caravan
of 700 persons—Arrival of the caravan—Its character
and reception—Its produce taken charge of—People
billeted—Mode of trading for the produce of a caravan
—(Note: Account of the produce, its value and results)
—Mode of purchasing the produce—Sale over—Gift
of an ostrich—Its value in guns—Bungee or “dash”—
Ahmah-de-Bellah—How he got up his caravan—
Blocks the forest paths—Convoy duties—Value and
use of blocking the forest paths—Collecting debts, &c.
—My talks with Ahmah—his instructions and sermons

on Islamism—My geographical disquisitions, rotundity
of the world, the Koran—I consent to turn, minus the
baptism!—Ahmah’s attempt to vow me to Islamism—
Fullah punishments—Slave wars—Piety and profit—
Ahmah and I exchange gifts—A double-barrelled gun
for a Koran—I promise to visit the Fullah country

CHAP. X.—Mode of purchasing Slaves at factories—
Tricks of jockeys—Gunpowder and lemon-juice—I
become absolute manager of the stores—
Reconciliation with Unga-golah—La belle Esther—I
get the African fever—My nurses—Cured by sweating
and bitters—Ague—Showerbath remedy—Mr.
Edward Joseph—My union with him—I quit the
Mongo, and take up my quarters with the Londoner 94

CHAP. XI.—An epoch in my life in 1827—A vessel
arrives consigned to me for slaves—La Fortuna—
How I managed to sell my cigars and get a cargo,
though I had no factory—My first shipment—(Note on
the cost and profit of a slave voyage)—How slaves are
selected for various markets, and shipped—Go on
board naked—hearty feed before embarkation—
Stowage—Messes—Mode of eating—Grace—Men
and women separated—Attention to health,
cleanliness, ventilation—Singing and amusements—
Daily purification of the vessel—Night, order and
silence preserved by negro constables—Use and disuse
of handcuffs—Brazilian slavers—(Note on condition
of slavers since the treaty with Spain) 99

CHAP. XII.—How a cargo of slaves is landed in Cuba 107
—Detection avoided—“Gratificaciones.” Clothes
distributed—Vessel burnt or sent in as a coaster, or in
distress—A slave’s first glimpse of a Cuban plantation
—Delight with food and dress—Oddity of beasts of

burden and vehicles—A slave’s first interview with a
negro postilion—the postilion’s sermon in favor of
slavery—Dealings with the anchorites—How tobacco
smoke blinds public functionaries—My popularity on
the Rio Pongo—Ormond’s enmity to me

CHAP. XIII.—I become intimate with “Country
princes” and receive their presents—Royal marriages
—Insulting to refuse a proffered wife—I am pressed to
wed a princess and my diplomacy to escape the sable
noose—My partner agrees to marry the princess—The
ceremonial of wooing and wedding in African high life
—Coomba 110

CHAP. XIV.—Joseph, my partner, has to fly from
Africa—How I save our property—My visit to the
Bagers—their primitive mode of life—Habits—
Honesty—I find my property unguarded and safe—My
welcome in the village—Gift of a goat—Supper—
Sleep—A narrow escape in the surf on the coast—the
skill of Kroomen 118

CHAP. XV.—I study the institution of Slavery in
Africa—Man becomes a “legal tender,” or the coin of
Africa—Slave wars, how they are directly promoted by
the peculiar adaptation of the trade of the great
commercial nations—Slavery an immemorial
institution in Africa—How and why it will always be
retained—Who are made home slaves—Jockeys and
brokers—Five sixths of Africa in domestic bondage 126

CHAP. XVI.—Caravan announced—Mami-de-Yong, 129
from Footha-Yallon, uncle of Ahmah-de-Bellah—My
ceremonious reception—My preparations for the chief
—Coffee—his school and teaching—Narrative of his

trip to Timbuctoo—Queer black-board map—prolix
story teller—Timbuctoo and its trade—Slavery

CHAP. XVII.—I set forth on my journey to Timbo, to
see the father of Ahmah-de-Bellah—My caravan and
its mode of travel—My Mussulman passport—Forest
roads—Arrive at Kya among the Mandingoes—My
lodgings—Ibrahim Ali—Our supper and “bitters”—A
scene of piety, love and liquor—Next morning’s
headache—Ali-Ninpha begs leave to halt for a day—I
manage our Fullah guide—My fever—Homœopathic
dose of Islamism from the Koran—My cure—
Afternoon 136

CHAP. XVIII.—A ride on horseback—Its exhilaration
in the forest—Visit to the Devil’s Fountain—Tricks of
an echo and sulphur water—Ibrahim and I discourse
learnedly upon the ethics of fluids—My respect for
national peculiarities—Our host’s liberality—
Mandingo etiquette at the departure of a guest—A
valuable gift from Ibrahim and its delicate bestowal—
My offering in return—Tobacco and brandy 143

CHAP. XIX.—A night bivouac in the forest—
Hammock swung between trees—A surprise and
capture—What we do with the fugitive slaves—A
Mandingo upstart and his “town”—Inhospitality—He
insults my Fullah leader—A quarrel—The Mandingo is
seized and his townsfolk driven out—We tarry for Ali-
Ninpha—He returns and tries his countrymen—
Punishment—Mode of inculcating the social virtues
among these interior tribes—We cross the Sanghu on
an impromptu bridge—Game—Forest food—
Vegetables—A “Witch’s cauldron” of reptiles for the
negroes 147

CHAP. XX.—Spread of Mahometanism in the interior
of Africa—The external aspect of nature in Africa—
Prolific land—Indolence a law of the physical
constitution—My caravan’s progress—The Ali-
Mami’s protection, its value—Forest scenery—Woods,
open plains, barrancas and ravines—Their intense heat
—Prairies—Swordgrass—River scenery, magnificence
of the shores, foliage, flowers, fruits and birds;
picturesque towns, villages and herds—Mountain
scenery, view, at morning, over the lowlands—An
African noon 153

CHAP. XXI.—We approach Tamisso—Our halt at a
brook—bathing, beautifying, and adornment of the
women—Message and welcome from Mohamedoo, by
his son, with a gift of food—Our musical escort and
procession to the city—My horse is led by a buffoon of
the court, who takes care of my face—Curiosity of the
townsfolk to see the white Mongo—I pass on hastily to
the Palace of Mohamedoo—What an African palace
and its furniture is—Mohamedoo’s appearance,
greeting and dissatisfaction—I make my present and
clear up the clouds—I determine to bathe—How the
girls watch me—Their commentaries on my skin and
complexion—Negro curiosity—A bath scene—
Appearance of Tamisso, and my entertainment there 157

CHAP. XXII.—Improved character of country and 162
population as we advance to the interior—We approach
Jallica—Notice to Suphiana—A halt for refreshment
and ablutions—Ali-Ninpha’s early home here—A great
man in Soolimana—Sound of the war-drum at a
distance—Our welcome—Entrance to the town—My
party, with the Fullah, is barred out—We are rescued—
Grand ceremonial procession and reception, lasting

two hours—I am, at last, presented to Suphiana—My
entertainment in Jallica—A concert—Musical
instruments—Madoo, the ayah—I reward her dancing
and singing

CHAP. XXIII.—Our caravan proceeds towards Timbo
—Met and welcomed in advance, on a lofty table land,
by Ahmah-de-Bellah—Psalm of joy song by the
Fullahs for our safety—We reach Timbo before day—A
house has been specially built and furnished for me—
Minute care for my taste and comforts—Ahmah-de-
Bellah a trump—A fancy dressing-gown and ruffled
shirt—I bathe, dress, and am presented to the Ali-
Mami—His inquisitive but cordial reception and
recommendation—Portrait of a Fullah king—A
breakfast with his wife—My formal reception by the
Chiefs of Timbo and Sulimani-Ali—The ceremonial—
Ahmah’s speech as to my purposes—Promise of
hospitality—My gifts—I design purchasing slaves—
scrutiny of the presents—Cantharides—Abdulmomen-
Ali, a prince and book-man—His edifying discourse
on Islamism—My submission 167

CHAP. XXIV.—Site of Timbo and the surrounding 176
country—A ride with the princes—A modest custom of
the Fullahs in passing streams—Visit to villages—The
inhabitants fly, fearing we are on a slave scout—
Appearance of the cultivated lands, gardens, near
Findo and Furo—Every body shuns me—A walk
through Timbo—A secret expedition—I watch the girls
and matrons as they go to the stream to draw water—
Their figures, limbs, dress—A splendid headdress—
The people of Timbo, their character, occupation,
industry, reading—I announce my approaching
departure—Slave forays to supply me—A capture of
forty-five by Sulimani-Ali—The personal dread of me

increases—Abdulmomen and Ahmah-de-Bellah
continue their slave hunts by day, and their pious
discourses on Islamism by night—I depart—The
farewell gifts—two pretty damsels

CHAP. XXV.—My home journey—We reach home
with a caravan near a thousand strong—Kambia in
order—Mami-de-Yong and my clerk—The story and
fate of the Ali-Mami’s daughter Beeljie 183

CHAP. XXVI.—Arrival of a French slaver, La
Perouse, Captain Brulôt—Ormond and I breakfast on
board—Its sequel—We are made prisoners and put in
irons—Short mode of collecting an old debt on the
coast of Africa—The Frenchman gets possession of our
slaves—Arrival of a Spanish slaver 190

CHAP. XXVII.—Ormond communicates with the
Spaniard, and arranges for our rescue—La Esperanza
—Brulôt gives in—How we fine him two hundred and
fifty doubloons for the expense of his suit, and teach
him the danger of playing tricks upon African factors 196

CHAP. XXVIII.—Capt. Escudero of the Esperanza
dies—I resolve to take his place in command and visit
Cuba—Arrival of a Danish slaver—Quarrel and battle
between the crews of my Spaniard and the Dane—The
Dane attempts to punish me through the duplicity of
Ormond—I bribe a servant and discover the trick—My
conversation with Ormond—We agree to circumvent
the enemy—How I get a cargo without cash 200

CHAP. XXIX.—Off to sea—A calm—A British man-
of-war—Boat attack—Reinforcement—A battle—A
catastrophe—A prisoner 206

CHAP. XXX.—I am sent on board the corvette—My
reception—A dangerous predicament—The Captain
and surgeon make me comfortable for the night—
Extraordinary conveniences for escape, of which I take
the liberty to avail myself 214

CHAP. XXXI.—I drift away in a boat with my servant
—Our adventures till we land in the Isles de Loss—
My illness and recovery—I return to the Rio Pongo—I
am received on board a French slaver—Invitation to
dinner—Monkey soup and its consequences 218

CHAP. XXXII.—My greeting in Kambia—The Feliz
from Matanzas—Negotiations for her cargo—Ormond
attempts to poison me—Ormond’s suicide—His burial
according to African customs 222

CHAP. XXXIII.—A visit to the Matacan river in quest
of slaves—My reception by the king—His appearance
—Scramble for my gifts—How slaves are sometimes
trapped on a hasty hunt—I visit the Matacan Wizard;
his cave, leopard, blind boy—Deceptions and jugglery
—Fetiches—A scale of African intellect 227

CHAP. XXXIV.—What became of the Esperanza’s
officers and crew—The destruction of my factory at
Kambia by fire—I lose all but my slaves—the
incendiary detected—Who instigated the deed—
Ormond’s relatives—Death of Esther—I go to sea in a
schooner from Sierra Leone—How I acquire a cargo of
slaves in the Rio Nunez without money 233

CHAP. XXXV.—I escape capture—Symptoms of
mutiny and detection of the plot—How we put it down 240

CHAP. XXXVI.—A “white squall”—I land my cargo
near St. Jago de Cuba—Trip to Havana on horseback
—My consignees and their prompt arrangements—
success of my voyage—Interference of the French
Consul—I am nearly arrested—How things were
managed, of old, in Cuba 244

CHAP. XXXVII.—A long holiday—I am wrecked on a
key—My rescue by salvors—New Providence—I ship
on the San Pablo, from St. Thomas’s, as sailing master
—Her captain and his arrangements—Encounter a
transport—Benefit of the small-pox—Mozambique
Channel—Take cargo near Quillimane—How we
managed to get slaves—Illness of our captain—The
small-pox breaks out on our brig—Its fatality 248

CHAP. XXXVIII.—Our captain longs for calomel, and
how I get it from a Scotchman—Our captain’s last will
and testament—We are chased by a British cruiser—
How we out-manœvred and crippled her—Death of our
captain—Cargo landed and the San Pablo burnt 255

CHAP. XXXIX.—My returns from the voyage
$12,000, and how I apply them—A custom-house
encounter which loses me La Conchita and my money
—I get command of a slaver for Ayudah—La
Estrella—I consign her to the notorious Da Souza or
Cha-cha—His history and mode of life in Africa—His
gambling houses and women—I keep aloof from his
temptations, and contrive to get my cargo in two
months 260

CHAP. XL.—All Africans believe in divinities or 265
powers of various degree, except the Bagers—Iguanas

worshipped in Ayudah—Invitation to witness the
human sacrifices at the court of Dahomey—How they
travel to Abomey—The King, his court, amazons, style
of life, and brutal festivities—Superstitious rights at
Lagos—The Juju hunts by night for the virgin to be
sacrificed—Gree-gree bush—The sacrifice—African
priest and kingcraft

CHAP. XLI.—My voyage home in the Estrella—A
revolt of the slaves during a squall, and how we were
obliged to suppress it—Use of pistols and hot water 272

CHAP. XLII.—Smallpox and a necessary murder—
Bad luck every where—A chase and a narrow escape 276

CHAP. XLIII.—The Aguila de Oro, a Chesapeake
clipper—my race with the Montesquieu—I enter the
river Salum to trade for slaves—I am threatened, then
arrested, and my clipper seized by French man-of-
war’s men—Inexplicable mystery—We are imprisoned
at Goree—Transferred to San Louis on the Senegal—
The Frenchmen appropriate my schooner without
condemnation—How they used her The sisters of
charity in our prison—The trial scene in court, and our
sentence—Friends attempt to facilitate my escape, but
our plans detected—I am transferred to a guard-ship in
the stream—New projects for my escape—A jolly
party and the nick of time, but the captain spoils the
sport 280

CHAP. XLIV.—I am sent to France in the frigate
Flora—Sisters of charity—The prison of Brest—My
prison companions—Prison mysteries—Corporal
Blon—I apply to the Spanish minister—Transfer to the
civil prison 286

CHAP. XLV.—Madame Sorret and my new quarters
—Mode of life—A lot of Catalan girls—Prison
boarding and lodging—Misery of the convicts in the
coast prisons—Improvement of the central prisons 292

CHAP. XLVI.—New lodgers in our quarters—How we
pass our time in pleasant diversions by aid of the
Catalan girls and my cash—Soirées—My funds give
out—Madame Sorret makes a suggestion—I turn
schoolmaster, get pupils, teach English and
penmanship, and support my whole party 295

CHAP. XLVII.—Monsieur Germaine, the forger—His
trick—Cause of Germaine’s arrest—An adroit and
rapid forgery—Its detection 300

CHAP. XLVIII.—Plan of escape—Germaine’s project
against Babette—A new scheme for New Year’s night
—Passports—Pietro Nazzolini and Dominico
Antonetti—Preparations for our “French leave”—
How the attempt eventuated 304

CHAP. XLIX.—Condition of the sentinel when he was
found—His story—Prison researches next day—How
we avoid detection—Louis Philippe receives my
petition favorably—Germaine’s philosophic pilfering
and principles—His plan to rob the Santissima Casa of
Loretto—He designs making an attempt on the
Emperor Nicholas—I am released and banished from
France 310

CHAP. L.—I go to Portugal, and return in disguise to 316
Marseilles, in order to embark for Africa—I resolve to
continue a slaver—A Marseilles hotel during the

cholera—Doctor Du Jean and Madame Duprez—
Humors of the table d’hôte—Coquetry and flirtation—
A phrenological denouement

CHAP. LI.—I reach Goree, and hasten to Sierra Leone,
where I become a coast-pilot to Gallinas—Site of that
celebrated factory—Don Pedro Blanco—His
monopoly of the Vey country—Slave-trade and its
territorial extent prior to the American Scheme of
Colonization—Blanco’s arrangements, telegraphs, &c.
at Gallinas—Appearance and mode of life—Blanco
and the Lords’ prayer in Latin 324

CHAP. LII.—Anecdotes of Blanco—Growth of slave-
trade in the Vey country—Local wars—Amarar and
Shiakar—Barbarities of the natives 330

CHAP. LIII.—I visit Liberia, and observe a new phase
of negro development—I go to New Sestros, and
establish trade—Trouble with Prince Freeman—The
value of gunpowder physic 335

CHAP. LIV.—My establishment at New Sestros, and
how I created the slave-trade in that region—The
ordeal of Saucy-Wood—My mode of attacking a
superstitious usage, and of saving the victims—The
story of Barrah and his execution 339

CHAP. LV.—No river at New Sestros—Beach—
Kroomen and Fishmen—Bushmen—Kroo boats—I
engage a fleet of them for my factory—I ship a cargo
of slaves in a hurry—My mode of operating—Value of
rum and mock coral beads—Return of the cruiser 344

CHAP. LVI.—I go on a pleasure voyage in the
Brilliant, accompanied by Governor Findley—Murder
of the Governor—I fit out an expedition to revenge his
death—A fight with the beach negroes—We burn five
towns—A disastrous retreat—I am wounded—
Vindication of Findley’s memory 349

CHAP. LVII.—What Don Pedro Blanco thought of my
Quixotism—Painful effects of my wound—Blanco’s
liberality to Findley’s family—My slave nurseries on
the coast—Digby—I pack nineteen negroes on my
launch, and set sail for home—Disastrous voyage—
Stories—I land my cargo at night at Monrovia, and
carry it through the colony!—Some new views of
commercial Morality! 356

CHAP. LVIII.—My compliments to British cruisers—
The Bonito—I offer an inspection of my barracoons,
&c., to her officers—A lieutenant and the surgeon are
sent ashore—My reception of them, and the review of
my slaves, feeding, sleeping, &c.—Our night frolic—
Next morning—A surprise—The Bonito off, and her
officers ashore!—Almost a quarrel—How I pacified
my guests over a good breakfast—Sauce for the goose
is sauce for the gander 362

CHAP. LIX.—Ups and downs—I am captured in a 369
Russian vessel, and sent to Sierra Leone—It is resolved
that I am to be despatched to England—I determine to
take French leave—Preparation to celebrate a birthday
—A feast—A martinet—Corporal Blunt—Pleasant
effects of cider—A swim for life and liberty at night—
My concealment—I manage to equip myself, and
depart in a Portuguese vessel—I ship thirty-one slaves
at Digby—A narrow escape from a cruiser—My return

to New Sestros—Report of my death—How I restored
confidence in my actual existence—Don Pedro’s
notion of me—The gift of a donkey, and its disastrous
effect on the married ladies of New Sestros

CHAP. LX.—The confession of a dying sailor—
Sanchez—The story of the murder of Don Miguel, and
destruction of his factory by Thompson—A piratical
revenge—An auto-da-fé at sea 377

CHAP. LXI.—My establishment at Digby—The rival
kinsmen, and their quarrel—Jen-ken, the Bushman—
My arrival at Digby, carousal—A night attack by the
rival and his allies—A rout—Horrid scenes of
massacre, barbarity, and cannibalism—My position
and ransom 382

CHAP. LXII.—I escape from the bloody scene in a
boot with a Krooman—Storm on the coast—My
perilous attempt to land at Gallinas—How I am warned
off—An African tornado—The sufferings of my
companion and myself while exposed in the boat, and
our final rescue 387

CHAP. LXIII.—Don Pedro Blanco leaves Gallinas—I
visit Cape Mount, to restore his son to the Chief—His
reception—I go to England in the Gil Blas; she is run
down by steamer in the Channel—Rescued, and reach
Dover—I see London and the British Islands—The
diversions, sufferings, and opinions of my servant
Lunes in Great Britain—He leaves voluntarily for
Africa—A queer chat and scene with the ladies—His
opinion of negro dress and negro bliss 391

CHAP. LXIV.—I make arrangements for future trade
and business with Mr. Redman—I go to Havana,
resolved to obtain a release from Blanco, and engage in
lawful commerce—Don Pedro refuses, and sends me
back with a freight—A voyage with two African
females revisiting their native country—Their story in
Cuba; results of frugality and industry—Shiakar’s
daughter—Her reception at home—Her disgust with
her savage home in Africa, and return to Cuba 396

CHAP. LXV.—I find my establishment in danger, from
the colonists and others—A correspondence with
Lieut. Bell, U. S. N.—Harmless termination of
Governor Buchanan’s onslaught—Threatened with
famine; my relief—The Volador takes 749 slaves;—
The last cargo I ever shipped 399

CHAP. LXVI.—I am attacked by the British cruiser
Termagant, Lieut. Seagram—Correspondence and
diplomacy—I go on board the cruiser in a damp
uniform—My reception and jollification—I confess my
intention to abandon the Slave-trade—My compact
with Seagram—How we manage Prince Freeman—His
treaty with the Lieutenant for the suppression of the
trade—The negro’s duplicity outwits himself—The
British officer guaranties the safe removal of my
property, whereupon I release 100 slaves—Captain
Denman’s destruction of Gallinas—Freeman begins
to see my diplomacy, and regrets his inability to
plunder my property, as the natives had done at
Gallinas—His plot to effect this—How I counteract it 405

CHAP. LXVII.—My barracoons destroyed—Adieus to 411
New Sestros—I sail with Seagram, in the Termagant,
for Cape Mount—A slaver in sight—All the nautical

men depart to attack her in boats during a calm—I am
left in charge of Her Britannic Majesty’s cruiser—The
fruitless issue—Escape of the Serea

CHAP. LXVIII.—We land at Cape Mount, and obtain a
cession of territory, by deed, from King Fana-Toro and
Prince Gray—I explore the region—Site of old
English slave factory—Difficulty of making the
negroes comprehend my improvements at New
Florence—Negro speculations and philosophy in
regard to labor. 414

CHAP. LXIX.—Visit to Monrovia—Description of the
colony and its products—Speculations on the future of
the republic, and the character of colored colonization 419

CHAP. LXX.—I remove, and settle permanently at
New Florence—I open communications with cruisers
to supply them with provisions, &c.—Anecdote of
Soma, the gambler—His sale and danger in the hands
of a Bushman—Mode of gambling one’s self away in
Africa—A letter from Governor Macdonald destroys
my prospect of British protection—I haul down the
British flag—I determine to devote myself to
husbandry—Bad prospect 424

CHAP. LXXI.—Account of the character of the Vey
negroes—The Gree-gree bush—Description of this
institution, its rites, services, and uses—Marriage and
midwifery—A scene with Fana-Toro, at Toso—Human
sacrifice of his enemy; frying a heart; indignity
committed on the body—Anecdote of the king’s
endurance; burns his finger as a test, and rallies his
men—Death of Prince Gray—Funeral rites among the
Vey people—Smoking the corpse—I am offered the
choice of his widows 429

CHAP. LXXII.—My workshops, gardens, and
plantations at the Cape Mount settlement—I do not
prosper as a farmer or trader with the interior—I
decide to send a coaster to aid in the transfer of the
Yankee clipper A—— to a slaver—I part on bad terms
with the British—Game at Cape Mount—Adventure of
a boy and an Ourang-outang—How we killed
leopards, and saved our castle—Mode of hunting
elephants—Elephant law 437

CHAP. LXXIII.—Fana-Toro’s war, and its effect on
my establishment—I decline joining actively in the
conflict—I allow captives to be shipped by a Gallinas
factor—Two years of blockade by the British—A
miraculous voyage of a long-boat with thirty-three
slaves to Bahia—My disasters and mishaps at Cape
Mount in consequence of this war—Exaggerations of
my enemies—My true character—Letter from Rev.
John Seys to me—My desire to aid the missionaries—
Cain and Curtis stimulate the British against me—
Adventure of the Chancellor—the British destroy my
establishment—Death of Fana-Toro—The natives
revenge my loss—The end 442

THEODORE CANOT.

CHAPTER I.
Whilst Bonaparte was busy conquering Italy, my excellent father, Louis
Canot, a captain and paymaster in the French army, thought fit to pursue his
fortunes among the gentler sex of that fascinating country, and luckily won
the heart and hand of a blooming Piedmontese, to whom I owe my birth in
the capital of Tuscany.
My father was faithful to the Emperor as well as the Consul. He followed
his sovereign in his disasters as well as glory: nor did he falter in allegiance
until death closed his career on the field of Waterloo.
Soldiers’ wives are seldom rich, and my mother was no exception to the
rule. She was left in very moderate circumstances, with six children to
support; but the widow of an old campaigner, who had partaken the
sufferings of many a long and dreary march with her husband, was neither
disheartened by the calamity, nor at a loss for thrifty expedients to educate
her younger offspring. Accordingly, I was kept at school, studying
geography, arithmetic, history and the languages, until near twelve years
old, when it was thought time for me to choose a profession. At school, and
in my leisure hours, I had always been a greedy devourer of books of travel,
or historical narratives full of stirring incidents, so that when I avowed my
preference for a sea-faring life, no one was surprised. Indeed, my fancy was
rather applauded, as two of my mother’s brothers had served in the
Neapolitan navy, under Murat. Proper inquiries were quickly made at
Leghorn; and, in a few weeks, I found myself on the mole of that noble
seaport, comfortably equipped, with a liberal outfit, ready to embark, as an
apprentice, upon the American ship Galatea, of Boston.
It was in the year 1819, that I first saluted the element upon which it has
been my destiny to pass so much of my life. The reader will readily imagine
the discomforts to which I was subjected on this voyage. Born and bred in
the interior of Italy, I had only the most romantic ideas of the sea. My

opinions had been formed from the lives of men in loftier rank and under
more interesting circumstances. My career was necessarily one of great
hardship; and, to add to my misfortunes, I had neither companion nor
language to vent my grief and demand sympathy. For the first three months,
I was the butt of every joker in the ship. I was the scape-goat of every
accident and of every one’s sins or carelessness. As I lived in the cabin,
each plate, glass, or utensil that fell to leeward in a gale, was charged to my
negligence. Indeed, no one seemed to compassionate my lot save a fat,
lubberly negro cook, whom I could not endure. He was the first African my
eye ever fell on, and I must confess that he was the only friend I possessed
during my early adventures.
Besides the officers of the Galatea, there was a clerk on board, whom the
captain directed to teach me English, so that, by the time we reached
Sumatra, I was able to stand up for my rights, and plead my cause. As we
could not obtain a cargo of pepper on the island, we proceeded to Bengal;
and, on our arrival at Calcutta, the captain, who was also supercargo, took
apartments on shore, where the clerk and myself were allowed to follow
him.
According to the fashion of that period, the house provided for our
accommodation was a spacious and elegant one, equipped with every
oriental comfort and convenience, while fifteen or twenty servants were
always at the command of its inmates. For three months we lived like
nabobs, and sorry, indeed, was I when the clerk announced that the vessel’s
loading was completed, and our holiday over.
On the voyage home, I was promoted from the cabin, and sent into the
steerage to do duty as a “light hand,” in the chief mate’s watch. Between
this officer and the captain there was ill blood, and, as I was considered the
master’s pet, I soon began to feel the bitterness of the subordinate’s spite.
This fellow was not only cross-grained, but absolutely malignant. One day,
while the ship was skimming along gayly with a five-knot breeze, he
ordered me out to the end of the jib-boom to loosen the sail; yet, without
waiting until I was clear of the jib, he suddenly commanded the men who
were at the halliards to hoist the canvas aloft. A sailor who stood by pointed
out my situation, but was cursed into silence. In a moment I was jerked into
the air, and, after performing half a dozen involuntary summersets, was

thrown into the water, some distance from the ship’s side. When I rose to
the surface, I heard the prolonged cry of the anxious crew, all of whom
rushed to the ship’s side, some with ropes’ ends, some with chicken coops,
while others sprang to the stern boat to prepare it for launching. In the midst
of the hurly-burly, the captain reached the deck, and laid the ship to; the
sailor who had remonstrated with the mate having, in the meantime,
clutched that officer, and attempted to throw him over, believing I had been
drowned by his cruelty. As the sails of the Galatea flattened against the
wind, many an anxious eye was strained over the water in search of me; but
I was nowhere seen! In truth, as the vessel turned on her heel, the
movement brought her so close to the spot where I rose, that I clutched a
rope thrown over for my rescue, and climbed to the lee channels without
being perceived. As I leaped to the deck, I found one half the men in
tumultuous assemblage around the struggling mate and sailor; but my
sudden apparition served to divert the mob from its fell purpose, and, in a
few moments, order was perfectly restored. Our captain was an intelligent
and just man, as may be readily supposed from the fact that he exclusively
controlled so valuable an enterprise. Accordingly, the matter was examined
with much deliberation; and, on the following day, the chief mate was
deprived of his command. I should not forget to mention that, in the midst
of the excitement, my sable friend the cook leaped overboard to rescue his
protegé. Nobody happened to notice the darkey when he sprang into the
sea; and, as he swam in a direction quite contrary from the spot where I fell,
he was nigh being lost, when the ship’s sails were trimmed upon her course.
Just at that moment a faint call was heard from the sea, and the woolly skull
perceived in time for rescue.
This adventure elevated not only “little Theodore,” but our “culinary artist”
in the good opinion of the mess. Every Saturday night my African friend
was allowed to share the cheer of the forecastle, while our captain presented
him with a certificate of his meritorious deed, and made the paper more
palatable by the promise of a liberal bounty in current coin at the end of the
voyage.
I now began to feel at ease, and acquire a genuine fondness for sea life. My
aptitude for languages not only familiarized me with English, but enabled
me soon to begin the scientific study of navigation, in which, I am glad to

say, that Captain Solomon Towne was always pleased to aid my industrious
efforts.
We touched at St. Helena for supplies, but as Napoleon was still alive, a
British frigate met us within five miles of that rock-bound coast, and after
furnishing a scant supply of water, bade us take our way homeward.
I remember very well that it was a fine night in July, 1820, when we
touched the wharf at Boston, Massachusetts. Captain Towne’s family
resided in Salem, and, of course, he was soon on his way thither. The new
mate had a young wife in Boston, and he, too, was speedily missing. One
by one, the crew sneaked off in the darkness. The second mate quickly
found an excuse for a visit in the neighborhood; so that, by midnight, the
Galatea, with a cargo valued at about one hundred and twenty thousand
dollars, was intrusted to the watchfulness of a stripling cabin-boy.
I do not say it boastfully, but it is true that, whenever I have been placed in
responsible situations, from the earliest period of my recollection, I felt an
immediate stirring of that pride which always made me equal, or at least
willing, for the required duty. All night long I paced the deck. Of all the
wandering crowd that had accompanied me nearly a year across many seas,
I alone had no companions, friends, home, or sweetheart, to seduce me
from my craft; and I confess that the sentiment of loneliness, which, under
other circumstances, might have unmanned me at my American greeting,
was stifled by the mingled vanity and pride with which I trod the quarter-
deck as temporary captain.
When dawn ripened into daylight, I remembered the stirring account my
shipmates had given of the beauty of Boston, and I suddenly felt disposed
to imitate the example of my fellow-sailors. Honor, however, checked my
feet as they moved towards the ship’s ladder; so that, instead of descending
her side, I closed the cabin door, and climbed to the main-royal yard, to see
the city at least, if I could not mingle with its inhabitants. I expected to
behold a second Calcutta; but my fancy was not gratified. Instead of
observing the long, glittering lines of palaces and villas I left in India and
on the Tuscan shore, my Italian eyes were first of all saluted by dingy bricks
and painted boards. But, as my sight wandered away from the town, and
swept down both sides of the beautiful bay, filled with its lovely islands,

and dressed in the fresh greenness of summer, I confess that my memory
and heart were magically carried away into the heart of Italy, playing sad
tricks with my sense of duty, when I was abruptly restored to consciousness
by hearing the heavy footfall of a stranger on deck.
The intruder—as well as I could see from aloft—seemed to be a stout,
elderly person. I did not delay to descend the ratlins, but slid down a back-
stay, just in time to meet the stranger as he approached our cabin. My
notions of Italian manners did not yet permit me to appreciate the greater
freedom and social liberty with which I have since become so familiar in
America, and it may naturally be supposed that I was rather peremptory in
ordering the inquisitive Bostonian to leave the ship. I was in command—in
my first command; and so unceremonious a visit was peculiarly annoying.
Nor did the conduct of the intruder lessen my anger, as, quietly smiling at
my order, he continued moving around the ship, and peered into every nook
and corner. Presently he demanded whether I was alone? My self-
possession was quite sufficient to leave the question unanswered; but I
ordered him off again, and, to enforce my command, called a dog that did
not exist. My ruse, however, did not succeed. The Yankee still continued his
examination, while I followed closely on his heels, now and then twitching
the long skirts of his surtout to enforce my mandate for his departure.
During this promenade, my unwelcome guest questioned me about the
captain’s health,—about the mate,—as to the cause of his dismissal,—about
our cargo,—and the length of our voyage. Each new question begot a
shorter and more surly answer. I was perfectly satisfied that he was not only
a rogue, but a most impudent one; and my Franco-Italian temper strained
almost to bursting.
By this time, we approached the house which covered the steering-gear at
the ship’s stern, and in which were buckets containing a dozen small turtles,
purchased at the island of Ascension, where we stopped to water after the
refusal at St. Helena. The turtle at once attracted the stranger’s notice, and
he promptly offered to purchase them. I stated that only half the lot
belonged to me, but that I would sell the whole, provided he was able to
pay. In a moment, my persecutor drew forth a well-worn pocket-book, and
handing me six dollars, asked whether I was satisfied with the price. The
dollars were unquestionable gleams, if not absolute proofs, of honesty, and I

am sure my heart would have melted had not the purchaser insisted on
taking one of the buckets to convey the turtles home. Now, as these
charming implements were part of the ship’s pride, as well as property, and
had been laboriously adorned by our marine artists with a spread eagle and
the vessel’s name, I resisted the demand, offering, at the same time, to
return the money. But my turtle-dealer was not to be repulsed so easily; his
ugly smile still sneered in my face as he endeavored to push me aside and
drag the bucket from my hand. I soon found that he was the stronger of the
two, and that it would be impossible for me to rescue my bucket fairly; so,
giving it a sudden twist and shake, I contrived to upset both water and
turtles on the deck, thus sprinkling the feet and coat-tails of the veteran with
a copious ablution. To my surprise, however, the tormentor’s cursed grin
not only continued but absolutely expanded to an immoderate laugh, the
uproariousness of which was increased by another suspicious Bostonian,
who leaped on deck during our dispute. By this time I was in a red heat. My
lips were white, my checks in a blaze, and my eyes sparks. Beyond myself
with ferocious rage, I gnashed my teeth, and buried them in the hand which
I could not otherwise release from its grasp on the bucket. In the scramble, I
either lost or destroyed part of my bank notes; yet, being conqueror at last, I
became clement, and taking up my turtles, once more insisted upon the
departure of my annoyers. There is no doubt that I larded my language with
certain epithets, very current among sailors, most of which are learned more
rapidly by foreigners than the politer parts of speech.
Still the abominable monster, nothing daunted by my onslaught, rushed to
the cabin, and would doubtless have descended, had not I been nimbler than
he in reaching the doors, against which I placed my back, in defiance. Here,
of course, another battle ensued, enlivened by a chorus of laughter from a
crowd of laborers on the wharf. This time I could not bite, yet I kept the
apparent thief at bay with my feet, kicking his shins unmercifully whenever
he approached, and swearing in the choicest Tuscan.
He who knows any thing of Italian character, especially when it is
additionally spiced by French condiments, may imagine the intense rage to
which so volcanic a nature as mine was, by this time, fully aroused.
Language and motion were nearly exhausted. I could neither speak nor
strike. The mind’s passion had almost produced the body’s paralysis. Tears
began to fall from my eyes: but still he laughed! At length, I suddenly flung

wide the cabin doors, and leaping below at a bound, seized from the rack a
loaded musket, with which I rushed upon deck. As soon as the muzzle
appeared above the hatchway, my tormentor sprang over the ship, and by
the time I reached the ladder, I found him on the wharf, surrounded by a
laughing and shouting crowd. I shook my head menacingly at the group;
and shouldering my firelock, mounted guard at the gangway. It was fully a
quarter of an hour that I paraded (occasionally ramming home my musket’s
charge, and varying the amusement by an Italian defiance to the jesters),
before the tardy mate made his appearance on the wharf. But what was my
consternation, when I beheld him advance deferentially to my pestilent
visitor, and taking off his hat, respectfully offer to conduct him on board!
This was a great lesson to me in life on the subject of “appearances.” The
shabby old individual was no less a personage than the celebrated William
Gray, of Boston, owner of the Galatea and cargo, and proprietor of many a
richer craft then floating on every sea.
But Mr. Gray was a forgiving enemy. As he left the ship that morning, he
presented me fifty dollars, “in exchange,” he said, “for the six destroyed in
protection of his property;” and, on the day of my discharge, he not only
paid the wages of my voyage, but added fifty dollars more to aid my
schooling in scientific navigation.
Four years after, I again met this distinguished merchant at the Marlborough
Hotel, in Boston. I was accompanied, on that occasion, by an uncle who
visited the United States on a commercial tour. When my relative
mentioned my name to Mr. Gray, that gentleman immediately recollected
me, and told my venerable kinsman that he never received such abuse as I
bestowed on him in July, 1820! The sting of my teeth, he declared, still
tingled in his hand, while the kicks I bestowed on his ankles, occasionally
displayed the scars they had left on his limbs. He seemed particularly
annoyed, however, by some caustic remarks I had made about his
protuberant stomach, and forgave the blows but not the language.
My uncle, who was somewhat of a tart disciplinarian, gave me an extremely
black look, while, in French, he demanded an explanation of my conduct. I
knew Mr. Gray, however, better than my relative; and so, without heeding
his reprimand, I answered, in English, that if I cursed the ship’s owner on
that occasion, it was my debut in the English language on the American

continent; and as my Anglo-Saxon education had been finished in a
forecastle, it was not to be expected I should be select in my vocabulary.
“Never the less,” I added, “Mr. Gray was so delighted with my accolade,
that he valued my defence of his property and our delicious tête-à-tête at the
sum of a hundred dollars!”

CHAPTER II.
The anecdote told in the last chapter revived my uncle’s recollection of
several instances of my early impetuosity; among which was a rencounter
with Lord Byron, while that poet was residing at his villa on the slope of
Monte Negro near Leghorn, which he took the liberty to narrate to Mr.
Gray.
A commercial house at that port, in which my uncle had some interest, was
the noble lord’s banker;—and, one day, while my relative and the poet were
inspecting some boxes recently arrived from Greece, I was dispatched to
see them safely deposited in the warehouse. Suddenly, Lord Byron
demanded a pencil. My uncle had none with him, but remembering that I
had lately been presented one in a handsome silver case, requested the loan
of it. Now, as this was my first silver possession, I was somewhat reluctant
to let it leave my possession even for a moment, and handed it to his
lordship with a bad grace. When the poet had made his memorandum, he
paused a moment, as if lost in thought, and then very unceremoniously—
but, doubtless, in a fit of abstraction—put the pencil in his pocket. If I had
already visited America at that time, it is likely that I would have warned
the Englishman of his mistake on the spot; but, as children in the Old World
are rather more curbed in their intercourse with elders than on this side of
the Atlantic, I bore the forgetfulness as well as I could until next morning.
Summoning all my resolution, I repaired without my uncle’s knowledge to
the poet’s house at an early hour, and after much difficulty was admitted to
his room. He was still in bed. Every body has heard of Byron’s peevishness,
when disturbed or intruded on. He demanded my business in a petulant and
offensive tone. I replied, respectfully, that on the preceding day I loaned
him a silver pencil,—strongly emphasizing and repeating the word silver,—
which, I was grieved to say, he forgot to return. Byron reflected a moment,
and then declared he had restored it to me on the spot! I mildly but firmly
denied the fact; while his lordship as sturdily reasserted it. In a short time,
we were both in such a passion that Byron commanded me to leave the
room. I edged out of the apartment with the slow, defying air of angry
boyhood; but when I reached the door, I suddenly turned, and looking at

him with all the bitterness I felt for his nation, called him, in French, “an
English hog!” Till then our quarrel had been waged in Italian. Hardly were
the words out of my mouth when his lordship leaped from the bed, and in
the scantiest drapery imaginable, seized me by the collar, inflicting such a
shaking as I would willingly have exchanged for a tertian ague from the
Pontine marshes. The sudden air-bath probably cooled his choler, for, in a
few moments, we found ourselves in a pacific explanation about the
luckless pencil. Hitherto I had not mentioned my uncle; but the moment I
stated the relationship, Byron became pacified and credited my story. After
searching his pockets once more ineffectually for the lost silver, he
presented me his own gold pencil instead, and requested me to say why I
“cursed him in French?”
“My father was a Frenchman, my lord,” said I.
“And your mother?”
“She is an Italian, sir.”
“Ah! no wonder, then, you called me an ‘English hog.’ The hatred runs in
the blood; you could not help it.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he continued,—still pacing the apartment in
his night linen,—“You don’t like the English, do you, my boy?”
“No,” said I, “I don’t.”
“Why?” returned Byron, quietly.
“Because my father died fighting them,” replied I.
“Then, youngster, you have a right to hate them,” said the poet, as he put
me gently out of the door, and locked it on the inside.
A week after, one of the porters of my uncle’s warehouse offered to sell, at
an exorbitant price, what he called “Lord Byron’s pencil,” declaring that his
lordship had presented it to him. My uncle was on the eve of bargaining
with the man, when he perceived his own initials on the silver. In fact, it
was my lost gift. Byron, in his abstraction, had evidently mistaken the
porter for myself; so the servant was rewarded with a trifling gratuity, while
my virtuoso uncle took the liberty to appropriate the golden relic of Byron

to himself, and put me off with the humbler remembrance of his honored
name.
These, however, are episodes. Let us return once more to the Galatea and
her worthy commander.
Captain Towne retired to Salem after the hands were discharged, and took
me with him to reside in his family until he was ready for another voyage.
In looking back through the vista of a stormy and adventurous life, my
memory lights on no happier days than those spent in this sea-faring
emporium. Salem, in 1821, was my paradise. I received more kindness,
enjoyed more juvenile pleasures, and found more affectionate hospitality in
that comfortable city than I can well describe. Every boy was my friend. No
one laughed at my broken English, but on the contrary, all seemed charmed
by my foreign accent. People thought proper to surround me with a sort of
romantic mystery, for, perhaps, there was a flavor of the dashing dare-devil
in my demeanor, which imparted influence over homelier companions.
Besides this, I soon got the reputation of a scholar. I was considered a
marvel in languages, inasmuch as I spoke French, Italian, Spanish, English,
and professed a familiarity with Latin. I remember there was a wag in
Salem, who, determining one day to test my acquaintance with the latter
tongue, took me into a neighboring druggist’s, where there were some Latin
volumes, and handed me one with the request to translate a page, either
verbally or on paper. Fortunately, the book he produced was Æsop, whose
fables had been so thoroughly studied by me two years before, that I even
knew some of them by heart. Still, as I was not very well versed in the
niceties of English, I thought it prudent to make my version of the selected
fable in French; and, as there was a neighbor who knew the latter language
perfectly, my translation was soon rendered into English, and the
proficiency of the “Italian boy” conceded.

I sailed during five years from Salem on voyages to various parts of the
world, always employing my leisure, while on shore and at sea, in
familiarizing myself minutely with the practical and scientific details of the
profession to which I designed devoting my life. I do not mean to narrate

the adventures of those early voyages, but I cannot help setting down a
single anecdote of that fresh and earnest period, in order to illustrate the
changes that time and “circumstances” are said to work on human character.
In my second voyage to India, I was once on shore with the captain at
Quallahbattoo, in search of pepper, when a large proa, or Malay canoe,
arrived at the landing crammed with prisoners, from one of the islands. The
unfortunate victims were to be sold as slaves. They were the first slaves I
had seen! As the human cargo was disembarked, I observed one of the
Malays dragging a handsome young female by the hair along the beach.
Cramped by long confinement in the wet bottom of the canoe, the shrieking
girl was unable to stand or walk. My blood was up quickly. I ordered the
brute to desist from his cruelty; and, as he answered with a derisive laugh, I
felled him to the earth with a single blow of my boat-hook. This impetuous
vindication of humanity forced us to quit Quallahbattoo in great haste; but,
at the age of seventeen, my feelings in regard to slavery were very different
from what this narrative may disclose them to have become in later days.
When my apprenticeship was over, I made two or three successful voyages
as mate, until—I am ashamed to say,—that a “disappointment” caused me
to forsake my employers, and to yield to the temptations of reckless
adventure. This sad and early blight overtook me at Antwerp,—a port rather
noted for the backslidings of young seamen. My hard-earned pay soon
diminished very sensibly, while I was desperately in love with a Belgian
beauty, who made a complete fool of me—for at least three months! From
Antwerp, I betook myself to Paris to vent my second “disappointment.” The
pleasant capital of la belle France was a cup that I drained at a single
draught. Few young men of eighteen or twenty have lived faster. The
gaming tables at Frascati’s and the Palais Royal finished my consumptive
purse; and, leaving an empty trunk as a recompense for my landlord, I took
“French leave” one fine morning, and hastened to sea.
The reader will do me the justice to believe that nothing but the direst
necessity compelled me to embark on board a British vessel, bound to
Brazil. The captain and his wife who accompanied him, were both stout,
handsome Irish people, of equal age, but addicted to fondness for strong
and flavored drinks.

My introduction on board was signalized by the ceremonious bestowal
upon me of the key of the spirit-locker, with a strict injunction from the
commander to deny more than three glasses daily either to his wife or
himself. I hardly comprehended this singular order at first, but, in a few
days, I became aware of its propriety. About eleven o’clock her ladyship
generally approached when I was serving out the men’s ration of gin, and
requested me to fill her tumbler. Of course, I gallantly complied. When I
returned from deck below with the bottle, she again required a similar dose,
which, with some reluctance, I furnished. At dinner the dame drank porter,
but passed off the gin on her credulous husband as water. This system of
deception continued as long as the malt liquor lasted, so that her ladyship
received and swallowed daily a triple allowance of capital grog. Indeed, it is
quite astonishing what quantities of the article can sometimes be swallowed
by sea-faring women. The oddness of their appetite for the cordials is not a
little enhanced by the well-known aversion the sex have to spirituous fluids,
in every shape, on shore. Perhaps the salt air may have something to do
with the acquired relish; but, as I am not composing an essay on
temperance, I shall leave the discussion to wiser physiologists.
My companions’ indulgence illustrated another diversity between the sexes,
which I believe is historically true from the earliest records to the present
day. The lady broke her rule, but the captain adhered faithfully to his.
Whilst on duty, the allotted three glasses completed his potations. But when
we reached Rio de Janeiro, and there was no longer need of abstinence,
save for the sake of propriety, both my shipmates gave loose to their thirst
and tempers. They drank, quarrelled, and kissed, with more frequency and
fervor than any creatures it has been my lot to encounter throughout an
adventurous life. After we got the vessel into the inner harbor,—though not
without a mishap, owing to the captain’s drunken stubbornness,—my Irish
friends resolved to take lodgings for a while on shore. For two days they did
not make their appearance; but toward the close of the third, they returned,
“fresh,” as they said, “from the theatre.” It was very evident that the jolly
god had been their companion; and, as I was not a little scandalized by the
conjugal scenes which usually closed these frolics, I hastened to order tea
under the awning on deck, while I betook myself to a hammock which was
slung on the main boom. Just as I fell off into pleasant dreams, I was roused
from my nap by a prelude to the opera. Madame gave her lord the lie direct.

A loaf of bread, discharged against her head across the table, was his reply.
Not content with this harmless demonstration of rage, he seized the four
corners of the table-cloth, and gathering the tea-things and food in the sack,
threw the whole overboard into the bay. In a flash, the tigress fastened on
his scanty locks with one hand, while, with the other, she pummelled his
eyes and nose. Badly used as he was, I must confess that the captain proved
too generous to retaliate on that portion of his spouse where female charms
are most bewitching and visible; still, I am much mistaken if the sound
spanking she received did not elsewhere leave marks of physical vigor that
would have been creditable to a pugilist.
It was remarkable that these human tornados were as violent and brief as
those which scourge tropical lands as well as tropical characters. In a
quarter of an hour there was a dead calm. The silence of the night, on those
still and star-lit waters, was only broken by a sort of chirrup, that might
have been mistaken for a cricket, but which I think was a kiss. Indeed, I was
rapidly going off again to sleep, when I was called to give the key of the
spirit-locker,—a glorious resource that never failed as a solemn seal of
reconciliation and bliss.
Next morning, before I awoke, the captain went ashore, and when his wife,
at breakfast, inquired my knowledge of the night’s affray, my gallantry
forced me to confess that I was one of the soundest sleepers on earth or
water, and, moreover, that I was surprised to learn there had been the least
difference between such happy partners. In spite of my simplicity, the lady
insisted on confiding her griefs, with the assurance that she would not have
been half so angry had not her spouse foolishly thrown her silver spoons
into the sea, with the bread and butter. She grew quite eloquent on the
pleasures of married life, and told me of many a similar reproof she had
been forced to give her husband during their voyages. It did him good, she
said, and kept him wholesome. In fact, she hoped, that if ever I married, I
would have the luck to win a guardian like herself. Of course, I was again
most gallantly silent. Still, I could not help reserving a decision as to the
merits of matrimony; for present appearances certainly did not demonstrate
the bliss I had so often read and heard of. At any rate, I resolved, that if ever
I ventured upon a trial of love, it should, at least, in the first instance, be
love without liquor!

On our return to Europe we called at Dover for orders, and found that
Antwerp was our destination. We made sail at sunset, but as the wind was
adverse and the weather boisterous, we anchored for two days in the
Downs. At length, during a lull of the gale, we sailed for the mouth of the
Scheldt; but, as we approached the coast of Holland, the wind became light
and baffling, so that we were unable to enter the river. We had not taken a
pilot at Ramsgate, being confident of obtaining one off Flushing. At
sundown, the storm again arose in all its fury from the north-west; but all
attempts to put back to England were unavailing, for we dared not show a
rag of sail before the howling tempest. It was, indeed, a fearful night of
wind, hail, darkness, and anxiety. At two o’clock in the morning, we
suddenly grounded on one of the numerous banks off Flushing. Hardly had
we struck when the sea made a clean sweep over us, covering the decks
with sand, and snapping the spars like pipe-stems. The captain was killed
instantly by the fall of a top-gallant yard, which crushed his skull; while the
sailors, who in such moments seem possessed by utter recklessness, broke
into the spirit-room and drank to excess. For awhile I had some hope that
the stanchness of our vessel’s hull might enable us to cling to her till
daylight, but she speedily bilged and began to fill.
After this it would have been madness to linger. The boats were still safe.
The long one was quickly filled by the crew, under the command of the
second mate—who threw an anker of gin into the craft before he leaped
aboard,—while I reserved the jolly-boat for myself, the captain’s widow,
the cook, and the steward. The long-boat was never heard of.
All night long that dreadful nor’wester howled along and lashed the narrow
sea between England and the Continent; yet I kept our frail skiff before it,
hoping, at daylight, to descry the lowlands of Belgium. The heart-broken
woman rested motionless in the stern-sheets. We covered her with all the
available garments, and, even in the midst of our own griefs, could not help
feeling that the suddenness of her double desolation had made her perfectly
unconscious of our dreary surroundings.
Shortly after eight o’clock a cry of joy announced the sight of land within a
short distance. The villagers of Bragden, who soon descried us, hastened to
the beach, and rushing knee deep into the water, signalled that the shore was
safe after passing the surf. The sea was churned by the storm into a perfect

foam. Breakers roared, gathered, and poured along like avalanches. Still,
there was no hope for us but in passing the line of these angry sentinels.
Accordingly, I watched the swell, and pulling firmly, bow on, into the first
of the breakers, we spun with such arrowy swiftness across the intervening
space, that I recollect nothing until we were clasped in the arms of the
brawny Belgians on the beach.
But, alas! the poor widow was no more. I cannot imagine when she died.
During the four hours of our passage from the wreck to land, her head
rested on my lap; yet no spasm of pain or convulsion marked the moment of
her departure.
That night the parish priest buried the unfortunate lady, and afterwards
carried round a plate, asking alms,—not for masses to insure the repose of
her soul,—but to defray the expenses of the living to Ostend.

CHAPTER III.
I had no time or temper to be idle. In a week, I was on board a Dutch
galliot, bound to Havana; but I soon perceived that I was again under the
command of two captains—male and female. The regular master
superintended the navigation, while the bloomer controlled the whole of us.
Indeed, the dame was the actual owner of the craft, and, from skipper to
cabin-boy, governed not only our actions but our stomachs. I know not
whether it was piety or economy that swayed her soul, but I never met a
person who was so rigid as this lady in the observance of the church
calendar, especially whenever a day of abstinence allowed her to deprive us
of our beef. Nothing but my destitution compelled me to ship in this craft;
still, to say the truth, I had well-nigh given up all idea of returning to the
United States, and determined to engage in any adventurous expedition that
my profession offered. In 1824, it will be remembered, Mexico, the Spanish
main, Peru, and the Pacific coasts, were renowned for the fortunes they
bestowed on enterprise; and, as the galliot was bound to Havana, I hailed
her as a sort of floating bridge to my El Dorado.
On the seventh night after our departure, while beating out of the bay of
Biscay with a six-knot breeze, in a clear moonlight, we ran foul of a vessel
which approached us on the opposite tack. Whence she sprang no one could
tell. In an instant, she appeared and was on us with a dreadful concussion.
Every man was prostrated on deck and all our masts were carried away.
From the other vessel we heard shrieks and a cry of despair; but the ill-
omened miscreant disappeared as rapidly as she approached, and left us
floating a helpless log, on a sea proverbial for storms.
We contrived, however, to reach the port of Ferrol, in Spain, where we were
detained four months, in consequence of the difficulty of obtaining the
materials for repairs, notwithstanding this place is considered the best and
largest ship-yard of Castile.
It was at Ferrol that I met with a singular adventure, which was well-nigh
depriving me of my personal identity, as Peter Schlemhil was deprived of

his shadow. I went one afternoon in my boat to the other side of the harbor
to obtain some pieces of leather from a tannery, and, having completed my
purchase, was lounging slowly towards the quay, when I stopped at a house
for a drink of water. I was handed a tumbler by the trim-built, black-eyed
girl, who stood in the doorway, and whose rosy lips and sparkling eyes were
more the sources of my thirst than the water; but, while I was drinking, the
damsel ran into the dwelling, and hastily returned with her mother and
another sister, who stared at me a moment without saying a word, and
simultaneously fell upon my neck, smothering my lips and cheeks with
repeated kisses!
“Oh! mi querido hijo,” said the mother.
“Carissimo Antonio,” sobbed the daughter.
“Mi hermano!” exclaimed her sister.
“Dear son, dear Antonio, dear brother! Come into the house; where have
you been? Your grandmother is dying to see you once more! Don’t delay an
instant, but come in without a word! Por dios! that we should have caught
you at last, and in such a way: Ave Maria! madrecita, aqui viene Antonito!”
In the midst of all these exclamations, embraces, fondlings, and kisses, it
may easily be imagined that I stood staring about me with wide eyes and
mouth, and half-drained tumbler in hand, like one in a dream. I asked no
questions, but as the dame was buxom, and the girls were fresh, I kissed in
return, and followed unreluctantly as they half dragged, half carried me into
their domicil. On the door-sill of the inner apartment I found myself locked
in the skinny arms of a brown and withered crone, who was said to be my
grandmother, and, of course, my youthful moustache was properly bedewed
with the moisture of her toothless mouth.
As soon as I was seated, I took the liberty to say,—though without any
protest against this charming assault,—that I fancied there might possibly
be some mistake; but I was quickly silenced. My madrecita declared at
once, and in the presence of my four shipmates, that, six years before, I left
her on my first voyage in a Dutch vessel; that my querido padre, had gone
to bliss two years after my departure; and, accordingly, that now, I, Antonio
Gomez y Carrasco, was the only surviving male of the family, and, of

course, would never more quit either her, my darling sisters, or the old
pobrecita, our grandmother. This florid explanation was immediately closed
like the pleasant air of an opera by a new chorus of kisses, nor can there be
any doubt that I responded to the embraces of my sweet hermanas with the
most gratifying fraternity.
Our charming quartette lasted in all its harmony for half an hour, during
which volley after volley of family secrets was discharged into my eager
ears. So rapid was the talk, and so quickly was its thread taken up and spun
out by each of the three, that I had no opportunity to interpose. At length,
however, in a momentary lull and in a jocular manner,—but in rather bad
Spanish,—I ventured to ask my loving and talkative mamma, “what amount
of property my worthy father had deemed proper to leave on earth for his
son when he took his departure to rest con Dios?” I thought it possible that
this agreeable drama was a Spanish joke, got up al’ improvista, and that I
might end it by exploding the dangerous mine of money: besides this, it was
growing late, and my return to the galliot was imperative.
But alas! my question brought tears in an instant into my mother’s eyes, and
I saw that the scene was not a jest. Accordingly, I hastened, in all
seriousness, to explain and insist on their error. I protested with all the force
of my Franco-Italian nature and Spanish rhetoric, against the assumed
relationship. But all was unavailing; they argued and persisted; they brought
in the neighbors; lots of old women and old men, with rusty cloaks or
shawls, with cigars or cigarillos in mouth, formed a jury of inquest; so that,
in the end, there was an unanimous verdict in favor of my Galician nativity!
Finding matters had indeed taken so serious a turn, and knowing the
impossibility of eradicating an impression from the female mind when it
becomes imbedded with go much apparent conviction, I resolved to yield;
and, assuming the manner of a penitent prodigal, I kissed the girls,
embraced my mother, passed my head over both shoulders of my grand-
dame, and promised my progenitors a visit next day.
As I did not keep my word, and two suns descended without my return, the
imaginary “mother” applied to the ministers of law to enforce her rights
over the truant boy. The Alcalde, after hearing my story, dismissed the
claim; but my dissatisfied relatives summoned me, on appeal, before the

governor of the district, nor was it without infinite difficulty that I at last
succeeded in shaking off their annoying consanguinity.
I have always been at a loss to account for this queer mistake. It is true that
my father was in Spain with the French army during Napoleon’s invasion,
but that excellent gentleman was a faithful spouse as well as valiant soldier,
and I do not remember that he ever sojourned in the pleasant port of Ferrol!

At length, we sailed for Havana, and nothing of importance occurred to
break the monotony of our hot and sweltering voyage, save a sudden flurry
of jealousy on the part of the captain, who imagined I made an attempt to
conquer the pious and economical heart of his wife! In truth, nothing was
further from my mind or taste than such an enterprise; but as the demon had
complete possession of him, and his passion was stimulated by the lies of a
cabin-boy, I was forced to undergo an inquisitorial examination, which I
resisted manfully but fruitlessly. The Bloomer-dame, who knew her man,
assumed such an air of outraged innocence and calumniated virtue,
interlarded with sobs, tears, and hysterics, that her perplexed husband was
quite at his wit’s end, but terminated the scene by abruptly ordering me to
my state-room.
This was at nightfall. I left the cabin willingly but with great mortification;
yet the surly pair eyed each other with so much anger that I had some fear
for the denouement. I know not what passed during the silent watches of
that night; but doubtless woman’s witchcraft had much to do in pouring oil
on the seared heart of the skipper. At daylight he emerged from his cabin
with orders to have the tell-tale cabin-boy soundly thrashed; and, when
Madame mounted the deck, I saw at a glance that her influence was
completely restored. Nor was I neglected in this round of reconciliation. In
the course of the day, I was requested to resume my duty on board, but I
stubbornly refused. Indeed, my denial caused the captain great uneasiness,
for he was a miserable navigator, and, now that we approached the
Bahamas, my services were chiefly requisite. The jealous scamp was urgent
in desiring me to forget the past and resume duty; still I declined, especially

as his wife informed me in private that there would perhaps be peril in my
compliance.
The day after we passed the “Hole in the Wall” and steered for Salt Key, we
obtained no meridian observation, and no one on board, except myself, was
capable of taking a lunar, which in our position, among unknown keys and
currents, was of the greatest value. I knew this troubled the skipper, yet,
after his wife’s significant warning, I did not think it wise to resume my
functions. Nevertheless, I secretly made calculations and watched the
vessel’s course. Another day went by without a noontide observation; but, at
midnight, I furtively obtained a lunar, by the result of which I found we
were drifting close to the Cuba reefs, about five miles from the Cruz del
Padre.
As soon as I was sure of my calculation and sensible of imminent danger, I
did not hesitate to order the second officer,—whose watch it was,—to call
all hands and tack ship. At the same time, I directed the helmsman to luff
the galliot close into the wind’s eye.
But the new mate, proud of his command, refused to obey until the captain
was informed; nor would he call that officer, inasmuch as no danger was
visible ahead on the allotted course. But time was precious. Delay would
lose us. As I felt confident of my opinion, I turned abruptly from the
disobedient mariners, and letting go the main brace, brought the vessel to
with the topsail aback. Quickly, then, I ordered the watch as it rushed aft, to
clew up the mainsail;—but alas! no one would obey; and, in the fracas, the
captain, who rushed on deck ignorant of the facts or danger, ordered me
back to my state-room with curses for my interference in his skilful
navigation.
With a shrug of my shoulders, I obeyed. Remonstrance was useless. For
twenty minutes the galliot cleft the waters on her old course, when the look-
out screamed: “Hard up!—rocks and breakers dead ahead!”
“Put down the helm!” yelled the confused second mate;—but the galliot lost
her headway, and, taken aback, shaved the edge of a foam-covered rock,
dropping astern on a reef with seven feet water around her.

All was consternation;—sails flapping; breakers roaring; ropes snapping
and beating; masts creaking; hull thumping; men shouting! The captain and
his wife were on deck in the wink of an eye. Every one issued an order and
no one obeyed. At last, the lady shouted—“let go the anchor!”—the worst
command that could be given,—and down went the best bower and the
second anchor, while the vessel swung round, and dashed flat on both of
them. No one seemed to think of clewing up the sails, and thereby lessening
the impetuous surges of the unfortunate galliot.
Our sad mishap occurred about one o’clock in the morning. Fortunately
there was not much wind and the sea was tolerably calm, so that we could
recognize, and, in some degree, control our situation;—yet, every thing on
board appeared given over to Batavian stupidity and panic.
My own feelings may be understood by those who have calmly passed
through danger, while they beheld their companions unmanned by fear or
lack of coolness. There was no use of my interference, for no one would
heed me. At last the captain’s wife, who was probably the most collected
individual on board, called my name loudly, and in the presence of officers
and crew, who, by this time were generally crowded on the quarter-deck,
entreated me to save her ship!
Of course, I sprang to duty. Every sail was clewed up, while the anchors
were weighed to prevent our thumping on them. I next ordered the boats to
be lowered; and, taking a crew in one, directed the captain to embark in
another to seek an escape from our perilous trap. At daylight, we
ascertained that we had crossed the edge of the reef at high water, yet it
would be useless to attempt to force her back, as she was already half a foot
buried in the soft and mushy outcroppings of coral.
Soon after sunrise, we beheld, at no great distance, one of those low sandy
keys which are so well-known to West Indian navigators; while, further in
the distance, loomed up the blue and beautiful outline of the highlands of
Cuba. The sea was not much ruffled by swell or waves; but as we gazed at
the key, which we supposed deserted, we saw a boat suddenly shoot from
behind one of its points and approach our wreck. The visitors were five in
number; their trim, beautiful boat was completely furnished with fishing
implements, and four of the hands spoke Spanish only, while the patron, or

master, addressed us in French. The whole crew were dressed in flannel
shirts, the skirts of which were belted by a leather strap over their trowsers,
and when the wind suddenly dashed the flannel aside, I saw they had long
knives concealed beneath it.
The patron of these fellows offered to aid us in lightening the galliot and
depositing the cargo on the key; where, he said, there was a hut in which he
would guarantee the safety of our merchandise until, at the full of the moon,
we could float the vessel from the reef. He offered, moreover, to pilot us out
of harm’s way; and, for all his services in salvage, we were to pay him a
thousand dollars.
While the master was busy making terms, his companions were rummaging
the galliot in order to ascertain our cargo and armament. It was finally
agreed by the captain and his petticoat commodore, that if, by evening and
the return of tide, our galliot would not float, we would accept the
wreckers’ offer; and, accordingly, I was ordered to inform them of the
resolution.
As soon as I stated our assent, the patron, suddenly assumed an air of
deliberation, and insisted that the money should be paid in hard cash on the
spot, and not by drafts on Havana, as originally required. I thought the
demand a significant one, and hoped the joint partners would neither yield
nor admit their ability to do so; but, unfortunately, they assented at once.
The nod and wink I saw the patron immediately bestow on one of his
companions, satisfied me of the imprudence of the concession and the
justice of my suspicions.
The fishermen departed to try their luck on the sea, promising to be back at
sunset, on their way to the island. We spent the day in fruitless efforts to
relieve the galliot or to find a channel, so that when the Spaniards returned
in the afternoon with a rather careless reiteration of their proposal, our
captain, with some eagerness, made his final arrangements for the cargo’s
discharge early next morning. Our skipper had visited the key in the course
of the day, and finding the place of deposit apparently safe, and every thing
else seemingly honest, he was anxious that the night might pass in order
that the disembarkation might begin.

The calm quiet of that tropic season soon wore away, and, when I looked
landward, at day-dawn, I perceived two strange boats at anchor near the
key. As this gave me some uneasiness, I mentioned it to the captain and his
wife, but they laughed at my suspicions. After an early meal we began to
discharge our heaviest cargo with the fishermen’s aid, yet we made little
progress towards completion by the afternoon. At sunset, accounts were
compared, and finding a considerable difference in favor of the wreckers, I
was dispatched ashore to ascertain the error. At the landing I was greeted by
several new faces. I particularly observed a Frenchman whom I had not
noticed before. He addressed me with a courteous offer of refreshments. His
manners and language were evidently those of an educated person, while
his figure and physiognomy indicated aristocratic habits or birth, yet his
features and complexion bore the strong imprint of that premature old age
which always marks a dissipated career.
After a delightful chat in my mother-tongue with the pleasant stranger, he
invited me to spend the night on shore. I declined politely, and, having
rectified the cargo’s error, was preparing to re-embark, when the Frenchman
once more approached and insisted on my remaining. I again declined,
asserting that duty forbade my absence. He then remarked that orders had
been left by my countryman the patron to detain me; but if I was so
obstinate as to go, I might probably regret it.
With a laugh, I stepped into my boat, and on reaching the galliot, learned
that our skipper had imprudently avowed the rich nature of our cargo.
Before leaving the vessel that night, the patron took me aside, and inquired
whether I received the invitation to pass the night on the key, and why I had
not accepted it? To my great astonishment, he addressed me in pure Italian;
and when I expressed gratitude for his offer, he beset me with questions
about my country, my parents, my age, my objects in life, and my
prospects. Once or twice he threw in the ejaculation of, “poor boy! poor
boy!” As he stepped over the taffrail to enter his boat, I offered my hand,
which he first attempted to take,—then suddenly stopping, rejected the
grasp, and, with an abrupt—“No! addio!” he spun away in his boat from the
galliot’s side.

I could not help putting these things together in my mind during the
glowing twilight. I felt as if walking in a cold shadow; an unconquerable
sense of impending danger oppressed me. I tried to relieve myself by
discussing the signs with the captain, but the phlegmatic Hollander only
scoffed at my suspicions, and bade me sleep off my nervousness.
When I set the first night watch, I took good care to place every case
containing valuables below, and to order the look-out to call all hands at the
first appearance or sound of a boat. Had we been provided with arms, I
would have equipped the crew with weapons of defence, but, unluckily,
there was not on board even a rusty firelock or sabre.

How wondrously calm was all nature that night! Not a breath of air, or a
ripple on the water! The sky was brilliant with stars, as if the firmament
were strewn with silver dust. The full moon, with its glowing disc, hung
some fifteen or twenty degrees above the horizon. The intense stillness
weighed upon my tired limbs and eyes, while I leaned with my elbows on
the taffrail, watching the roll of the vessel as she swung lazily from side to
side on the long and weary swell. Every body but the watch had retired, and
I, too, went to my state-room in hope of burying my sorrows in sleep. But
the calm night near the land had so completely filled my berth with
annoying insects, that I was obliged to decamp and take refuge in the stay-
sail netting, where, wrapped in the cool canvas, I was at rest in quicker time
than I have taken to tell it.
Notwithstanding my nervous apprehension, a sleep more like the torpor of
lethargy than natural slumber, fell on me at once. I neither stirred nor heard
any thing till near two o’clock, when a piercing shriek from the deck
aroused me. The moon had set, but there was light enough to show the
decks abaft filled with men, though I could distinguish neither their persons
nor movements. Cries of appeal, and moans as of wounded or dying,
constantly reached me. I roused myself as well and quickly as I could from
the oppression of my deathlike sleep, and tried to shake off the nightmare.
The effort assured me that it was reality and not a dream! In an instant, that
presence of mind which has seldom deserted me, suggested escape. I seized

the gasket, and dropping by aid of it as softly as I could in the water, struck
out for shore. It was time. My plunge into the sea, notwithstanding its
caution, had made some noise, and a rough voice called in Spanish to return
or I would be shot.
When I began to go to sea, I took pains to become a good swimmer, and my
acquired skill served well on this occasion. As soon as the voice ceased
from the deck, I lay still on the water until I saw a flash from the bow of the
galliot, to which I immediately made a complaisant bow by diving deeply.
This operation I repeated several times, till I was lost in the distant
darkness; nor can I pride myself much on my address in escaping the
musket balls, as I have since had my own aim similarly eluded by many a
harmless duck.
After swimming about ten minutes, I threw myself on my back to rest and
“take a fresh departure.” It was so dark that I could not see the key, yet, as I
still discerned the galliot’s masts relieved against the sky, I was enabled by
that beacon to steer my way landward. Naked, with the exception of
trowsers, I had but little difficulty in swimming, so that in less than half an
hour, I touched the key, and immediately sought concealment in a thick
growth of mangroves.
I had not been five minutes in this dismal jungle, when such a swarm of
mosquitoes beset me, that I was forced to hurry to the beach and plunge into
the water. In this way was I tormented the whole night. At dawn, I retreated
once more to the bushes; and climbing the highest tree I found,—whose
altitude, however, was not more than twelve feet above the sand,—I beheld,
across the calm sea, the dismantled hull of my late home, surrounded by a
crowd of boats, which were rapidly filling with plundered merchandise. It
was evident that we had fallen a prey to pirates; yet I could not imagine
why I had been singled from this scene of butchery, to receive the marks of
anxious sympathy that were manifested by the patron and his French
companion on the key. All the morning I continued in my comfortless
position, watching their movements,—occasionally refreshing my parched
lips by chewing the bitter berries of the thicket. Daylight, with its heat, was
as intolerable as night, with its venom. The tropical sun and the glaring
reflection from a waveless sea, poured through the calm atmosphere upon
my naked flesh, like boiling oil. My thirst was intense. As the afternoon

wore away, I observed several boats tow the lightened hull of our galliot
south-east of the key till it disappeared behind a point of the island. Up to
that moment, my manhood had not forsaken me; but, as the last timber of
my vessel was lost to sight, nature resumed its dominion. Every hope of
seeing my old companions was gone; I was utterly alone. If this narrative
were designed to be a sentimental confession, the reader might see unveiled
the ghastly spectacle of a “troubled conscience,” nor am I ashamed to say
that no consolation cheered my desolate heart, till I prayed to my Maker
that the loss of so many lives might not be imputed to the wilful malice of a
proud and stubborn nature.

CHAPTER IV.
So passed the day. As the sun sank is the west, I began to reflect about
obtaining the rest for mind and body I so much needed. My system was
almost exhausted by want of food and water, while the dreadful tragedy of
the preceding night shattered my nerves far more than they ever suffered
amid the trying scenes I have passed through since. It was my first
adventure of peril and of blood; and my soul shrank with the natural recoil
that virtue experiences in its earliest encounter with flagrant crime.
In order to escape the incessant torment of insects, I had just determined to
bury my naked body in the sand, and to cover my head with the only
garment I possessed, when I heard a noise in the neighboring bushes, and
perceived a large and savage dog rushing rapidly from side to side, with his
nose to the ground, evidently in search of game or prey. I could not mistake
the nature of his hunt. With the agility of a harlequin, I sprang to my
friendly perch just in time to save myself from his fangs. The foiled and
ferocious beast, yelling with rage, gave an alarm which was quickly
responded to by other dogs, three of which—followed by two armed men—
promptly made their appearance beneath my tree. The hunters were not
surprised at finding me, as, in truth, I was the game they sought. Ordering
me down, I was commanded to march slowly before them, and especially
warned to make no attempt at flight, as the bloodhounds would tear me to
pieces on the spot. I told my guard that I should of course manifest no such
folly as to attempt as escape from caballeros like themselves,—upon a
desolate sand key half a mile wide,—especially when my alternative refuge
could only be found among the fish of the sea. The self-possession and
good humor with which I replied, seemed somewhat to mollify the cross-
grained savages, and we soon approached a habitation, where I was ordered
to sit down until the whole party assembled. After a while, I was invited to
join them in their evening meal.
The piquant stew upon which we fed effectually loosened their tongues, so
that, in the course of conversation, I discovered my pursuers had been in
quest of me since early morning, though it was hardly believed I had either

escaped the shot, or swam fully a mile amid sharks during the darkness.
Upon this, I ventured to put some ordinary questions, but was quickly
informed that inquisitiveness was considered very unwholesome on the
sand keys about Cuba!
At sunset, the whole piratical community of the little isle was assembled. It
consisted of two parties, each headed by its respective chief. Both gangs
were apparently subject to the leadership of the rancho’s proprietor; and in
this man I recognized the patron who inquired so minutely about my
biography and prospects. His companions addressed him either as “El señor
patron” or “Don Rafael.” I was surveyed very closely by the picturesque
group of bandits, who retired into the interior of the rancho,—a hut made of
planks and sails rescued from wrecks. My guard or sentinel consisted of but
a single vagabond, who amused himself by whetting a long knife on a hone,
and then trying its sharpness on a single hair and then on his finger.
Sometimes the scoundrel made a face at me, and drew the back of his
weapon across his throat.
The conversation within, which I felt satisfied involved my fate, was a long
one. I could distinctly overhear the murmuring roar of talk, although I could
not distinguish words. One sentence, however, did not escape me, and its
signification proved particularly interesting:—“Los muertos,” said the
French dandy,—“no hablan,”—Dead men tell no tales!
It is hard to imagine a situation more trying for a young, hearty, and hopeful
man. I was half naked; my skin was excoriated by the sun, sand, and salt
water; four bloodhounds were at my feet ready to fasten on my throat at the
bidding of a desperado; a piratical sentry, knife in hand, kept watch over
me, while a jury of buccaneers discussed my fate within earshot. Dante’s
Inferno had hardly more torments.
The filibustero conclave lasted quite an hour without reaching a conclusion.
At length, after an unusual clamor, the patron Rafael rushed from the
rancho with a horseman’s pistol, and, calling my name, whirled me behind
him in his strong and irresistible grasp. Then facing both hands, with a
terrible imprecation, he swore vengeance if they persisted in requiring the
death of his nephew!

At the mention of the word “nephew,” every one paused with a look of
surprise, and drawing near the excited man with expressions of interest,
agreed to respect his new-found relative, though they insisted I should
swear never to disclose the occurrence of which I had been an unwilling
witness. I complied with the condition unhesitatingly, and shook hands with
every one present except the sentry, of whom I shall have occasion to speak
hereafter.
It is astonishing what revulsions of manner, if not of feeling, take place
suddenly among the class of men with whom my lot had now been cast. Ten
minutes before, they were greedy for my blood, not on account of personal
malice, but from utter recklessness of life whenever an individual interfered
with their personal hopes or tenure of existence. Each one of these outlaws
now vied with his companions in finding articles to cover my nakedness
and make me comfortable. As soon as I was clothed, supper was announced
and I was given almost a seat of honor at a table plentifully spread with
fresh fish, sardines, olives, ham, cheese, and an abundance of capital claret.
The chat naturally turned upon me, and some sly jokes were uttered at the
expense of Rafael, concerning the kinsman who had suddenly sprung up
like a mushroom out of this pool of blood.
“Caballeros!” interposed Rafael, passionately, “you seem inclined to doubt
my word. Perhaps you are no longer disposed to regard me as your chief?
We have broken bread together during four months; we have shared the
same dangers and divided our spoils fairly: am I now to be charged to my
face with a lie?” “Ha!” said he, rising from the table and striding through
the apartment with violent gestures, “who dares doubt my word, and impute
to me the meanness of a lie? Are ye drunk? Can this wine have made you
mad?” and seizing a bottle, he dashed it to the ground, stamping with rage.
“Has the blood of last night unsettled your nerves and made you delirious?
Basta! basta! Let me not hear another word of doubt as to this youth. The
first who utters a syllable of incredulity shall kill me on the spot or fall by
my hand!”
This sounds, I confess, very melo-dramatically, yet, my experience has
taught me that it is precisely a bold and dashing tone of bravado, adopted at
the right moment, which is always most successful among such ruffians as

surrounded my preserver. The speech was delivered with such genuine
vehemence and resolution that no one could question his sincerity or
suppose him acting. But, as soon as he was done, the leader of the other
gang, who had been very unconcernedly smoking his cigar, and apparently
punctuating Don Rafael’s oration with his little puffs, advanced to my new
uncle, and laying his hand on his arm, said:—
“Amigo, you take a joke too seriously. No one here certainly desires to harm
the boy or disbelieve you. Take my advice,—calm yourself, light a cigarillo,
drink a tumbler of claret, and drop the subject.”
But this process of pacification was too rapid for my excited uncle. Men of
his quality require to be let down gradually from their wrath, for I have
frequently noticed that when their object is too easily gained, they interpose
obstacles and start new subjects of controversy, so that the most amiable
and yielding temper may at last become inflamed to passionate resistance.
“No, caballeros!” exclaimed Don Rafael, “I will neither light a cigarillo,
drink claret, calm myself, nor accept satisfaction for this insult, short of the
self-condemnation you will all experience for a mean suspicion, when I
prove the truth of my assertions about this boy. A doubted man has no
business at the head of such fellows as you are. Begone out of my hearing,
Theodore,” continued he, pointing to the canvas door, “begone till I
convince these people that I am your uncle!”
As soon as I was out of the chamber, I afterwards learned, that Rafael
announced my name, place of birth, and parentage to the wreckers, and
desired the other patron, Mesclet, who spoke Italian, to follow and
interrogate me as to his accuracy.
Mesclet performed the service in a kind manner, opening the interview by
asking the names of my father and mother, and then demanding how many
uncles I had on my mother’s side? My replies appeared satisfactory.
“Was one of your uncles a navy officer?” inquired Mesclet, “and where is
he at present?” The only uncle I had in the navy, I declared, had long been
absent from his family. But once in my life had I seen him, and that was
while on his way to Marseilles, in 1815, to embark for the Spanish main;
since then no intelligence of the wanderer had reached my ears. Had I been

a French scholar at that time, my adventures of consanguinity at Ferrol and
on this key might well have brought Molière’s satire to my mind:

“De moi je commence à douter tout de bon;
Pourtant, quand je me tâte et que je me rapelle,
Il me semble que je suis moi!”

Mesclet’s report gave perfect satisfaction to the scoffers, and the mysterious
drama at once established me in a position I could not have attained even by
desperate services to the filibusteros. A bumper, all round, closed the night;
and each slunk off to his cot or blanket beneath a mosquito bar, while the
bloodhounds were chained at the door to do double duty as sentinels and
body-guard.
I hope there are few who will deny me the justice to believe that when I
stretched my limbs on the hard couch assigned me that night, I remembered
my God in heaven, and my home in Tuscany. It was the first night that an
ingenuous youth had spent among outcasts, whose hands were still reeking
with the blood of his companions. At that period of manhood we are
grateful for the mere boon of life. It is pleasant to live, to breathe, to have
one’s being, on this glorious earth, even though that life may be cast among
felons. There is still a future before us; and Hope, the bright goddess of
health and enthusiasm, inspires our nerves with energy to conquer our
present ills.
I threw myself down thankfully, but I could not rest. Sore and tired as I was,
I could not compose my mind to sleep. The conduct of Rafael surprised me.
I could not imagine how he became familiar with my biography, nor could I
identify his personal appearance with my uncle who went so long before to
South America. A thousand fancies jumbled themselves in my brain, and, in
their midst, I fell into slumber. Yet my self-oblivion was broken and short.
My pulse beat wildly, but my skin did not indicate the heat of fever. The
tragedy of the galliot was reacted before me. Phantoms of the butchered
wife and men, streaming with blood, stood beside my bed, while a chorus
of devils, in the garb of sailors, shouted that I was the cause of the galliot’s
loss, and of their murder. Then the wretched woman would hang round my
neck, and crawl on my breast, besprinkling me with gore that spouted from
her eyeless sockets, imploring me to save her;—till, shrieking and panting, I

awoke from the horrible nightmare. Such were the dreams that haunted my
pillow nearly all the time I was forced to remain with these desperadoes.

I thanked God that the night of the tropics was so brief. The first glimmer of
light found me up, and as soon as I could find a companion to control the
hounds, I ran to the sea for refreshment by a glorious surf-bath. I was on a
miserable sandbar, whose surface was hardly covered with soil; yet, in that
prolific land of rain and sunshine, nature seems only to require the slightest
footing to assert her magnificent power of vegetation. In spots, along the
arid island, were the most beautiful groves of abundant undergrowth,
matted with broad-leaved vines, while, within their shadow, the fresh
herbage sprang up, sparkling with morning dew. In those climates, the blaze
of noon is a season of oppressive languor, but morning and evening, with
their dawn and twilight,—their lengthened shadows and declining sun, are
draughts of beauty that have often intoxicated less enthusiastic tempers than
mine. The bath, the breeze, the renewed nature, aroused and restored a
degree of tone to my shattered nerves, so that when I reached the rancho, I
was ready for any duty that might be imposed. The twin gangs had gone off
in their boats soon after daylight, with saws and axes; but Rafael left orders
with my brutal sentry that I should assist him in preparing breakfast, which
was to be ready by eleven o’clock.
I never knew the real patronymic of this fellow, who was a Spaniard, and
passed among us by the nickname of Gallego. Gallego possessed a good
figure,—symmetrical and strong, while it was lithe and active. But his head
and face were the most repulsive I ever encountered. The fellow was not
absolutely ugly, so far as mere contour of features was concerned; but there
was so dropsical a bloat in his cheeks, such a stagnant sallowness in his
complexion, such a watching scowl in his eyes, such a drawling sullenness
of speech, such sensuality in the turn of his resolute lips, that I trembled to
know he was to be my daily companion. His dress and skin denoted
slovenly habits, while a rude and growling voice gave token of the bitter
heart that kept the enginery of the brute in motion.

With this wretch for chef de cuisine I was exalted to the post of “cook’s
mate.”

I found that a fire had been already kindled beneath some dwarf trees, and
that a kettle was set over it to boil. Gallego beckoned me to follow him into
a thicket some distance from the rancho, where, beneath the protection of a
large tarpaulin, we found filibustero’s pantry amply provided with butter,
onions, spices, salt-fish, bacon, lard, rice, coffee, wines, and all the
requisites of comfortable living. In the corners, strewn at random on the
ground, I observed spy-glasses, compasses, sea-charts, books, and a
quantity of choice cabin-furniture. We obtained a sufficiency of water for
cookery and drinking from holes dug in the sand, and we managed to cool
the beverage by suspending it in a draft of air in porous vessels, which are
known throughout the West Indies by the mischievous name of “monkeys.”
Our copious thickets supplied us with fuel, nor were we without a small,
rough garden, in which the gang cultivated peppers, tomatoes and mint. The
premises being reviewed, I returned with my ill-favored guard to take a
lesson in piratical cookery.
It is astonishing how well these wandering vagabonds know how to toss up
a savory mess, and how admirably they understand its enjoyment. A tickled
palate is one of the great objects of their mere animal existence, and they
are generally prepared with a mate who might pass muster in a second-rate
restaurant. The déjeuner we served of codfish stewed in claret, snowy and
granulated rice, delicious tomatoes and fried ham, was irreproachable.
Coffee had been drunk at day-dawn; so that my comrades contented
themselves during the meal with liberal potations of claret, while they
finished the morning with brandy and cigars.
By two o’clock the breakfast was over, and most of the gorged scamps had
retired for a siesta during the sweltering heat. A few of the toughest took
muskets and went to the beach to shoot gulls or sharks. Gallego and myself
were dispatched to our grove-kitchen to scullionize our utensils; and,
finally, being the youngest, I was intrusted with the honorable duty of
feeding the bloodhounds.

As soon as my duties were over, I was preparing to follow the siesta-
example of my betters, when I met Don Rafael coming out of the door, and,
without a word, was beckoned to follow towards the interior of the island.
When we reached a solitary spot, two or three hundred yards from the
rancho, Rafael drew me down beside him in the shade of a tree, and said
gently with a smile, that he supposed I was at least surprised by the events
of the last four days. I must confess that I saw little for any thing else but
astonishment in them, and I took the liberty to concede that fact to the Don.
“Well,” continued he, “I have brought you here to explain a part of the
mystery, and especially to let you understand why it was that I passed
myself off last night as your uncle, in order to save your life. I was obliged
to do it, boy; and, voto à Dios! I would have fought the junta,—
bloodhounds and all,—before they should have harmed a limb of your
body!”
Don Rafael explained that as soon as he caught a glimpse of my face when
he boarded the galliot on the morning of our disaster, he recognized the
lineaments of an old companion in arms. The resemblance caused him to
address me as particularly as he had done on the night of the piracy, the
consequence of which was that his suspicions ripened into certainty.
If I were writing the story of Don Rafael’s life, instead of my own, I might
give an interesting and instructive narrative, which showed,—as he alleged,
—how those potent controllers of outlaws,—“circumstances,”—had
changed him from a very respectable soldier of fortune into a genuine
buccaneer. He asserted that my uncle had been his schoolmate and
professional companion in the old world. When the war of South American
independence demanded the aid of certain Dugald Dalgettys to help its
fortune, Don Rafael and my uncle had lent the revolutionists of Mexico
their swords, for which they were repaid in the coin that “patriots”
commonly receive for such amiable self-sacrifice. Republics are
proverbially ungrateful, and Mexico, alas! was a republic.
After many a buffet of fortune, my poor uncle, it seems, perished in a duel
at which Don Rafael performed the professional part of “his friend.” My
relation died, of course, like a “man of honor,” and soon after, Don Rafael,

himself, fell a victim to the “circumstances” which, in the end, enabled him
to slaughter my shipmates and save my life.
I must admit that I use this flippant tone with a twinge of sorrow, for I think
I perceived certain spasms of conscience during our interview, which
proved that, among the lees of that withered heart, there were some rich
drops of manhood ready to mantle his cheek with shame at our
surroundings. Indeed, as he disclosed his story, he exhibited several
outbursts of passionate agony which satisfied me that if Don Rafael were in
Paris, Don Rafael would have been a most respectable bourgeois; while,
doubtless, there were many estimable citizens at that moment in Paris, who
would have given up their shops in order to become Don Rafaels in Cuba!
Such is life—and “circumstances!”
Our chat wasted a large portion of the afternoon. It was terminated by a
counsel from my friend to be wary in my deportment, and a direction to
console myself with the idea that he did not mean I should tarry long upon
the island.
“You see,” said he, “that I do not lack force of eye, voice, and personal
influence over these ruffians; yet I do not know that I can always serve or
save a friend, so your fate hangs very much on your circumspection. Men in
our situation are Ishmaelites. Our hands are not only against all, and all
against us, but we do not know the minute when we may be all against each
other. The power of habitual control may do much for a leader among such
men; but such an one must neither quail nor deceive. Therefore, beware!
Let none of your actions mar my projects. Let them never suspect the truth
of our consanguinity. Call me ‘uncle;’ and in my mouth you shall always be
‘Theodore.’ Ask no questions; be civil, cheerful, and serviceable about the
rancho; never establish an intimacy, confidence, or friendship with any one
of the band; stifle your feelings and your tears if you ever find them rising
to your lips or eyes; talk as little as you possibly can; avoid that smooth-
tongued Frenchman; keep away from our revels, and refrain entirely from
wine.
“I charge you to be specially watchful of Gallego, the cook. He is our man
of dirty work,—a shameless coward, though revengeful as a cat. If it shall
ever happen that you come in collision with him, strike first and well; no

one cares for him; even his death will make no stir. Take this cuchillo,—it is
sharp and reliable; keep it near you day and night; and, in self-defence, do
not hesitate to make good use of it. In a few days, I may say more to you;
until then,—corragio figlio, è addio!”
We returned to the rancho by different paths.

CHAPTER V.
The life of men under the ban of society, on a desolate sand key, whose only
visitors are land-crabs and sea-gulls, is a dull and dreary affair. The genuine
pirate, properly equipped for a desperate lot, who has his swift keel beneath
him and is wafted wheresoever he lists on canvas wings, encounters, it is
true, an existence of peril; yet there is something exhilarating and romantic
in his dashing career of incessant peril: he is ever on the wing, and ever
amid novelty; there is something about his life that smacks of genuine
warfare, and his existence becomes as much more respectable as the old-
fashioned highwayman on his mettlesome steed was superior to the
sneaking footpad, who leaped from behind a thicket and bade the unarmed
pedestrian stand and deliver. But the wrecker-pirate takes his victim at a
disadvantage, for he is not a genuine freebooter of the sea. He shuns an able
foe and strikes the crippled. Like the shark and the eagle, he delights to prey
on the carcass, rather than to strike the living quarry.
The companionship into which misfortune had thrown me was precisely of
this character, and I gladly confess that I was never tempted for a moment
to bind up my fate with the sorry gang. I confided, it is true, in Rafael’s
promise to liberate me; yet I never abandoned the hope of escape by my
own tact and energy.
Meanwhile, I became heartily tired of my scullion duties as the subordinate
of Gallego. Finding one day a chest of carpenters’ tools among the rubbish,
I busied myself in making a rudder for one of the boats, and so well did I
succeed, that when my companions returned to breakfast from their daily
“fishing,” my mechanical skill was lauded to such a degree that Rafael
converted the general enthusiasm to my advantage by separating me from
the cook. I was raised to the head of our “naval bureau” as boatbuilder in
chief. Indeed, it was admitted on all hands that I was abler with the adze
than the ladle and spoiled fewer boards than broths.
A few days passed, during which I learned that our unfortunate galliot was
gradually emptied and destroyed. This was the usual morning occupation of

the whole gang until the enterprise ended. When the job was over Don
Rafael told me that he was about to depart hurriedly on business with the
whole company, to the mainland of Cuba, so that, during his absence, the
island and its property would be left in custody of Gallego, myself, and the
bloodhounds. He specially charged the cook to keep sober, and to give a
good account of himself at the end of five days, which would terminate his
absence.
But no sooner was the patron away, than the lazy scamp neglected his
duties, skulked all day among the bushes, and refused even to furnish my
food or supply the dogs. Of course, I speedily attended to the welfare of
myself and the animals; but, at night, the surly Galician came home,
prepared his own supper, drank till he was completely drunk, and retired
without uttering a word.
I was glad that he yielded to the temptation of liquor, as I hoped he would
thereby become incapable of harming me during the watches of the night, if
weariness compelled me to sleep. He was a malignant wretch, and his
taciturnity and ill-will appeared so ominous now that I was left utterly
alone, that I resolved, if possible, to keep awake, and not to trust to luck or
liquor. The galliot’s tragedy and anxiety stood me in stead, so that I did not
close my eyes in sleep the whole of that dreary vigil. About midnight,
Gallego stealthily approached my cot, and pausing a moment to assure
himself that I was in the profound repose which I admirable feigned, he
turned on tip-toe to the door of our cabin, and disappeared with a large
bundle in his hand. He did not return until near day-dawn; and, next night,
the same act was exactly repeated.
The mysterious sullenness of this vagabond not only alarmed, but increased
my nervousness, for I can assure the reader that, on a desolate island,
without a companion but a single outcast, one would rather hear the sound
of that wretch’s voice than be doomed to the silence of such inhuman
solitude. During the day he kept entirely aloof,—generally at sea fishing,—
affording me time for a long siesta in a nook near the shore, penetrated by a
thorny path, which Gallego could not have traced without hounds. On the
fourth night, when the pirate left our hut for his accustomed excursion, I
resolved to follow; and taking a pistol with renewed priming, I pursued his
steps at a safe distance, till I saw him enter a thick shrubbery, in which he

was lost. I marked the spot and returned to the cabin. Next morning, after
coffee, Gallego departed in his canoe to fish. I watched him anxiously from
the beach until he anchored about two miles from the reef, and then calling
the dogs, retraced my way to the thicket. The hounds were of great service,
for, having placed them on the track, they instantly traced the path of the
surly scoundrel.
After some trouble in passing the dense copse of underwood, I entered a
large patch of naked sand, broken by heaps of stones, which appeared to
cover graves. One heap bore the form of a cross, and was probably the
sepulchre of a wrecker. I stopped awhile and reflected as to further
explorations. On entering this arid graveyard, I observed a number of land-
crabs scamper away; but, after awhile, when I sat down in a corner and
became perfectly quiet, I noticed that the army returned to the field and
introduced themselves into all the heaps of stones or graves save one. This
struck me as singular; for, when people are so hopelessly alone as I was,
they become minute observers, and derive infinite happiness from the
consideration of the merest trifles. Accordingly, I ventured close to the
abandoned heap, and found at once that the neighboring sand had been
freshly smoothed. I was on Gallego’s track! In dread of detection, I
stealthily climbed a tree, and, screening myself behind the foliage, peered
out towards the sea till I beheld the cook at work beyond the reef. My
musket and pistols were again examined and found in order. With these
precautions, I began to remove the stones, taking care to mark their relative
positions so that I might replace them exactly; and, in about ten minutes
work at excavation, I came upon two barrels, one of which was filled with
bundles of silk, linens, and handkerchiefs, while the other contained a
chronometer, several pieces of valuable lace, and a beautifully bound, gilt,
and ornamented Bible. One bundle, tied in a Madras handkerchief,
particularly attracted my attention, for I thought I recognized the covering.
Within it I found a number of trinkets belonging to the wife of my Dutch
captain, and a large hairpin, set with diamonds, which I remember she wore
the last day of her life. Had this wretch torn it from her head, as he imbrued
his hands in her blood on that terrible night? The painful revelation brought
all before me once more with appalling force. I shuddered and became sick.
Yet, I had no time for maudlin dalliance with my feelings. Replacing every
thing with precision, and smoothing the sand once more with my flannel

shirt, I returned to the rancho, where I indulged in the boyish but honest
outburst of nature which I could no longer restrain. I was not then—and,
thank God, I am not now—a stranger to tears! To the world, the human
heart and the human eye, like the coral isle of the Atlantic, may be parched
and withered; yet beneath the seared and arid surface, the living water still
flows and gushes, when the rock and the heart alike are stricken!

Just before sunset of this day, the deep baying of our hounds gave notice of
approaching strangers; and, soon after, four boats appeared in the cove. The
two foremost belonged to Don Rafael and his crew, while the others were
filled with strangers whose appearance was that of landsmen rather than
mariners. As Rafael received them on the beach, he introduced them to me
as his especial pets, the “amphibious jews.”
Our delicious supper of that night was augmented by a fine store of beef,
pork and fowls, brought from shore. I lingered at table as long as the
company maintained a decent sobriety, and learned that these salt water
Hebrews were, in truth, speculators from Cardenas, who accompanied
Rafael in the guise of fishermen, to purchase the plundered cargo of my
galliot.
During his visit to Cuba, Don Rafael was apprised that the Cuban
authorities were about sending an Inspector among the islands off the coast,
and accordingly took precaution to furnish himself in advance with a
regular “fishing license.” All hands were forthwith set to work to make our
key and rancho conform to this calling, and, in a few days, the canvas roof
of our hut was replaced by a thatch of leaves, while every dangerous article
or implement was concealed in the thicket of a labyrinthine creek. In fact,
our piscatory character could not be doubted. In our persons and
occupation, we looked as innocent and rustic as a pic-nic party on a summer
bivouac for fresh air and salt bathing. Nor was the transformation less real
in regard to our daily tasks. We became, in reality, most industrious
fishermen; so that we had more than a thousand of the finny tribe piled up
and dried, when the hounds signalled the arrival of the expected officials.

Breakfast was on the table when they landed, but it was the banyan meal of
humble men, whose nets were never filled with aught but the scaly products
of the sea. Our inspector was regaled with a scant fish-feast, and allowed to
digest it over the genuine license. Rafael complained sadly of hard times
and poverty;—in fact, the drama of humility was played to perfection, and,
finally, the functionary signed our license, with a certificate of our loyalty,
and pocketed a moderate “gratification” of five ounces!

Six long, hot, and wretched weeks passed over my head before any striking
occurrence relieved the monotony of my life. During the whole of this
period, our fishing adventure was steadily pursued, when information was
mysteriously brought to the key that a richly-laden French vessel had run
ashore on the Cayo Verde, an islet some forty miles east of the Cruz del
Padre. That afternoon, both of our large boats were filled with armed men,
and, as they departed with every wrecker aboard, I alone was left on the
islet to guard our property with the dogs.
The thought and hope of escape both swelled in my breast as I saw the hulls
dwindle to a dot and disappear behind the horizon. In a moment, my plan
was conceived and perfected. The sea was perfectly smooth, and I was
expert in the use of oars. That very night I launched our canoe,—the only
vessel left in the cove,—and placing the sail, scullers, and grappling-hook
within it, returned to the rancho for clothing. As it was dark, I lighted a
candle, when, on looking into the clothes-chest beneath my bed, I found
inscribed on the lid, in fresh chalk-marks, the words “Patience! wait!”
This discovery made me pause in my preparations. Was it the warning—as
it was certainly the handwriting—of Rafael? Had he purposely and
honorably left me alone, in order to escape this scene of blood? Did he
anticipate my effort to fly, and endeavor to save me from the double risk of
crossing to the mainland, and of future provision for my comfort? I could
not doubt its being the work of my friend; and, whether it was superstition
or prudence, I cannot say, but I resolved, unhesitatingly, to abandon a
scheme in regard to which I hesitated. Instead, therefore, of attempting to
pass the strait between the key and Cuba, I went to bed, and slept more

comfortably in my utter abandonment than I had done since I was on the
island.
Next day, at noon, I descried a small pilot-boat sailing inside the reef, with
all the confidence of a perfect master of the channel. Two persons speedily
landed, with provisions from the mainland, and stated that, on his last visit
to Cuba, Don Rafael engaged them to take me to Havana. This, however,
was to be done with much caution, inasmuch as his men would not assent to
my departure until they had compromised my life with theirs by some act of
desperate guilt. The pilots declined taking me then without my guardian’s
assent;—and, in truth, so fully was I convinced of his intention to liberate
me in the best and speediest way, that I made up my mind to abide where I
was till he returned.
For three days more I was doomed to solitude. On the fourth, the boats
came back, with the pilot’s cutter, and I quickly saw that a serious encounter
had taken place. The pilot-boat appeared to be deeply laden. Next day, she
was taken to the mazes of the winding and wooded creek, where, I learned,
the booty was disembarked and hidden. While the party had gone to
complete this portion of their enterprise, the Frenchman, who was wounded
in the head and remained behind, took that opportunity to enlighten me on
passing events. When the wreckers reached Cayo Verde, they found the
French vessel already taken possession of by “fishermen” of that quarter.
Anticipated in their dirty work, our comrades were in no mood to be
sociable with the fortunate party. An affray was the natural result, in which
knives had been freely used, while Mesclet himself had been rescued by
Rafael, pistol in hand, after receiving the violent blow on his head from
which he was now suffering. Having secured a retreat to their boats, they
were just beginning to think of a rapid departure, when the friendly pilot-
boat hove in sight. So fortunate a reinforcement renerved our gang. A plan
of united action was quickly concerted. The French vessel was again
hoarded and carried. Two of the opposite party were slain in the onslaught;
and, finally, a rich remnant of the cargo was seized, though the greater part
of the valuables had, no doubt, been previously dispatched ashore by the
earlier band of desperadoes.
“Thank God!” added the narrator, “we have now the boat and the assistance
of Bachicha, who is as brave as Rafael: with his ‘Baltimore clipper,’ we

shall conduct our affairs on a grander scale than heretofore. Sacre-bleu! we
may now cruise under the Columbian flag, and rob Peter to pay Paul!”
In fact, the “clipper” had brought down an ample store of ammunition,
under the innocent name of “provisions,” while she carried in her bowels a
long six, which she was ready to mount amidships at a moment’s notice.
But poor Mesclet did not live to enjoy the fruits of the larger piracy, which
he hoped to carry on in a more elegant way with Bachicha. The roué could
not be restrained from the favorite beverages of his beautiful France. His
wound soon mastered him; and, in a month, all that was mortal of this
gallant Gaul, who, in earlier years, had figured in the best saloons of his
country, rested among sand-graves of a Cuban key.
“Ah!” growled Gallego, as they came home from his burial, “there is one
less to share our earnings; and, what is better, claret and brandy will be
more plentiful now that this sponge is under the sand!”

In a few days, the boats were laden with fish for the mainland, in order to
cover the real object of our patron’s visit to Cuba, which was to dispose of
the booty. At his departure, he repeated the cherished promise of liberty, and
privately hinted that I had better continue fishing on good terms with Señor
Gallego.
It required some time to repair the nets, for they had been rather neglected
during our late fishing, so that it was not, in fact, until Rafael had been three
days gone that I took the canoe with Gallego, and dropped anchor outside
the reef, to take breakfast before beginning our labor.
We had hardly begun a frugal meal when, suddenly, a large schooner shot
from behind a bend of the island, and steered in our direction. As the surly
Spaniard never spoke, I had become accustomed to be equally silent.
Unexpectedly, however, he gave a scowling glance from beneath his shaggy
brows at the vessel, and exclaimed with unusual energy: “A Columbian
privateer!”

“We had best up anchor, and get inside the reef,” continued he, “or our sport
will be spoiled for the day.”
“Pshaw!” returned I, “she’s not making for us, and, even if she were, I
wouldn’t be such a coward as to run!” Indeed, I had heard so much of
“Columbian privateers” and the patriot service, that I rather longed to be
captured, that I might try my hand at lawful war and glory. The impulse was
sudden and silly.
Still Gallego insisted on retreating; until, at length, we got into an angry
controversy, which the cook, who was in the bow of the boat, attempted to
end by cutting the anchor-rope. As he was drawing his knife to execute this
purpose, I swiftly lifted an oar, and, with a single blow, laid him senseless
in the bottom of the canoe. By this time the schooner was within pistol-
shot; and, as she passed with a three-knot breeze, the captain, who had
witnessed the scene, threw a grappling-iron into our skiff, and taking us in
tow, dragged the boat from its moorings.
As soon as we got into deeper water, I was ordered on deck, while Gallego,
still quite insensible, was hoisted carefully on board. I told the truth as to
our dispute, reserving, however, the important fact that I had been originally
urged into the quarrel by my anxiety “to ship” on board a privateer.
“I want a pilot for Key West,” said the master, hurriedly, “and I have no
time to trifle with your stupid quarrels. Can either of you perform this
service?”
By this time Gallego had been somewhat roused from his stupor, and
pointing feebly towards me, uttered a languid:—“Yes, and an excellent
one.”
Mistaking the word “pilote,” which in Spanish signifies “navigator,” the
French captain, who spoke the Castilian very badly, translated it into the
more limited meaning attached to that peculiar profession, one of whose
ministers he was anxious to secure.
“Bon!” said the master, “put the other fellow back into his skiff, and make
sail at once under charge of this youngster.”

I remonstrated, protested, declaimed, swore, that I knew nothing of Key
West and its approaches; but all my efforts were vain. I was a pilot in spite
of myself.
The malicious cook enjoyed the joke of which I had so hastily become the
victim. As they lowered him again into the boat, he jeered at my incredulity,
and in ten minutes was towed to the edge of the reef, where the scamp was
turned adrift to make for the island.
When the schooner was once more under full sail, I was ordered to give the
course for Key West. I at once informed the captain, whose name I
understood to be Laminé, that he really labored under a mistake in
translating the Spanish word pilote into port guide, and assured him that
Gallego had been prompted by a double desire to get rid of him as well as
me by fostering his pernicious error. I acknowledged that I was a “pilot,” or
“navigator,” though not a “practico,” or harbor-pilot; yet I urged that I
could not, without absolute foolhardiness, undertake to conduct his
schooner into a port of which I was utterly ignorant, and had never visited.
Hereupon the first lieutenant or mate interposed. This fellow was a short,
stout-built person of thirty-five, with reddish whiskers and hair, a long-
projecting under-jaw, and eye-teeth that jutted out like tusks. To add to his
ugliness, he was sadly pitted by small-pox, and waddled about on short
duck legs, which were altogether out of proportion to his long body,
immense arms, and broad, massive shoulders. I do not remember a more
vulgarly repulsive person than this privateering lieutenant.
“He is a liar, Captain Laminé, and only wants to extort money for his
services,” interjected the brute. “Leave him to me, sir; I’ll find a way to
refresh his memory of Key West that will open the bottom of the gulf to his
eyes as clearly as the pathway to his piratical hut on the sand key! To the
helm, sir—to the helm!”
What possible object or result could I gain by resistance amid the motley
assemblage that surrounded me on the deck of the “Cara-bobo?” She was a
craft of about 200 tons; and, with her crew of seventy-five, composed of the
scourings of all nations, castes, and colors, bore a commission from the
authorities of Carthagena to burn, sink and destroy all Spanish property she
was strong enough to capture. Laminé was born in the isle of France, while

Lasquetti, the lieutenant, was a creole of Pensacola. The latter spoke French
and Spanish quite well, but very little English; while both master and mate
were almost entirely ignorant of navigation, having intrusted that task to the
third lieutenant, who was then ill with yellow fever. The second lieutenant
was absent on board a prize.
Thus forced to take charge of a privateer without a moment’s warning, I
submitted with the best grace, and, calling for charts and instruments, I
shaped my way for the destined port. All day we steered west-north-west,
but at sunset, as we had run along smartly, I ordered the schooner to be
“laid to” for the night. The wind and weather were both charmingly fair,
and objections were of course made to my command. But, as the most
difficult part of our navigation was to be encountered during the night, if I
kept on my course, I resolved to persist to the last in my resolution, and I
was fortunate enough to carry my point.
“D—n you,” said Lasquetti, as the vessel was brought to the wind and made
snug for the night, “d—n you, Master Téodore; this laying-to shall give you
no rest, at least, if you thought to dodge work, and get into a hammock by
means of it! You shall march the deck all night to see that we don’t drift on
a reef, if I have to sit up, or stand up till day-dawn to watch you!”
Obedience, alas! had been the order of the day with me for a long while; so
I promenaded the lee quarter till nearly midnight, when, utterly exhausted
by fatigue, I sat down on a long brass chaser, and almost instantly fell
asleep.
I know not how long I rested, but a tremendous shock knocked me from the
cannon and laid me flat on the deck, bleeding from mouth, nose and ears.
Lasquetti stood beside me, cigar in hand, laughing immoderately,
blaspheming like a demon, and kicking me in the ribs with his rough wet-
weather boots. He had detected me asleep, and touched off the gun with his
havanna!
The explosion aroused all hands, and brought the commander on deck. My
blood flowed, but it did not pour fast enough to relieve my agonizing rage.
As soon as I recovered consciousness, I seized the first heavy implement I
could grasp, and rushed at my aggressor, whose skull was saved from the
blow by descending beneath the combings of the hatchway, which, the

instant after, were shivered by the descent of my heavy weapon. Laminé
was a man of some sensibility, and, though selfish, as usual with his set,
could not avoid at once reprimanding Lasquetti with uncommon severity in
presence of his men.
That afternoon, I was fortunate enough, by the aid of a good chart, and a
sort of navigating instinct, to anchor the “Cara-bobo” in the narrow harbor
of Key West. When Laminé went ashore, he ordered me not to leave the
schooner, while sentries were placed to prevent boats from boarding or even
approaching us. Hardly was the master out of the vessel before two men
seized me as I looked at the shore through a telescope. In the twinkling of
an eye, I was hurried below and double-ironed; nor would I have received a
morsel of food save bread and water during our detention, had I not been
secretly fed by some good fellows from the forecastle, who stole to me after
dark with the remnant of their rations. This was the cowardly revenge of
Lasquetti.
On the third day, Laminé returned, bringing an American pilot for the coast
and islands. I was set at liberty as he was seen approaching; and when we
got under way on another cruise, I was commanded to do duty as sailing-
master, which I promptly refused with spirited indignation, until I received
satisfaction from the dastard lieutenant. But this fellow had taken care to
forestall me, by assuring Laminé that he never dreamed of securing me until
I was caught in the very act of escaping from the schooner!
During a week’s cruise of indifferent success with these “patriots,” I won
the kind heart of the American pilot, who heard the story of my late
adventures with patience; and, through his influence with the commander,
my lot was mitigated, notwithstanding my refusal to do duty. By this time,
the third lieutenant was restored to sufficient health to resume the deck. He
was a native of Spain and a gallant sailor. Many an hour did he pass beside
me, recounting his adventures or listening to mine, until I seemed to win his
sympathy, and insure his assistance for relief from this miserable tyranny.
At length, the schooner’s course was shaped for the Cruz del Padre, while I
was summoned to the cabin. I perceived at once a singular change for the
better in Monsieur Laminé’s manner. He requested me to be seated; pressed
me to accept a tumbler of claret; inquired about my health, and ended this

harmonious overture by saying, that if I would sign a document exonerating
him from all charges of compulsory detention or ill-treatment, he would pay
me two hundred dollars for my service, and land me again on the key.
I promptly saw that his object in replacing me on the island was to prevent
my complaints against his conduct from reaching the ears of a tribunal in a
neutral port; and, accordingly, I declined the proposition,—demanding,
however, to be put on board of any vessel we met, no matter what might be
her nationality. I sternly refused his money, and insisted that my only desire
was to be free from his brutal officer.
But Laminé was in power and I was not. In the end, I discovered that worse
consequences might befall me among these ruffians, if I hesitated to take
the recompense and sign the paper. In fact, I began to be quite satisfied that,
in reality, it was an escape to be freed from the privateer, even if I took
refuge once more among pirates!
So, after a good deal of claret and controversy had been wasted, I signed the
document and pocketed the cash.
As the first bars of saffron streaked the east next morning, the reef of the
Cruz del Padre hove in sight dead ahead. The third lieutenant presented me
at my departure with a set of charts, a spy-glass, a quadrant, and a large bag
of clothes; while, in the breast of a rich silk waistcoat, he concealed three
ounces and a silver watch, which he desired me to wear in honor of him, if
ever I was fortunate enough to tread the streets of Havana. Several of the
white sailors also offered me useful garments; and a black fellow, who had
charge of the boat in which I was sent ashore, forced on me two sovereigns,
which he considered a small gratuity to “a countryman” in distress. He
hailed from Marblehead, and protested that he knew me in Salem when I
was a lad.
As the boat approached the rancho’s cove, I perceived every body under
arms, and heard Don Rafael command my boatmen, in a loud, imperious
voice, to begone, or he would fire. Standing on the thwarts of the boat, I
ordered the oarsmen to back water, and leaping into the sea, waist-deep,
struggled alone to the beach, calling “mi tio! mi tio!”—“my uncle! Don
Rafael!”—who, recognizing my voice and gestures, promptly rushed
forward to embrace me. Our boat was then allowed to approach the landing

and disburthen itself of the gifts. I thought it best to request my sable ally
from Marblehead to narrate, in as good Spanish or lingua-franca, as he
could press into his service, the whole story of my capture and the conduct
of Gallego. This being done, the boat and its crew were dispatched aboard
with a multitude of Spanish courtesies and the substantial gift of some
Chateau Margaux.
After an early supper, I became the lion of the evening, and was requested
to give a narrative of my cruise in the “patriot service.” I noticed that some
of the gang looked on me askance with an incredulous air, while others
amused themselves by smoking and spitting in a very contemptuous way
whenever I reached what I conceived to be a thrilling portion of my story.
At its conclusion, I arose and deposited in the hands of Don Rafael my gifts
of two hundred dollars and the two sovereigns. This evidence of reciprocity
seemed to restore the good temper of my impatient hearers, so that, by the
time the patron went round the circle, giving each man his share of my
earnings,—not even omitting Gallego,—my credit was almost restored
among the gang.
“As for these two pieces of gold, these charts, instruments and clothes,”
said Don Rafael, “they are the property of the youth, and I am sure none of
you are mean enough to divide them. The money was another thing. That
was his earning, as the ‘fishing revenue’ is ours; and as he is entitled to a
share of what we gain, we are entitled to participate in whatever he wins.
Yet, amigos, this is not all. My nephew, caballeros, has been accused, by
one of this party, during his absence, of being not only a contemptible thief,
but a traitor and coward. Now, as these are three ‘blasphemous
vituperations’ which are not to be found under any head in my prayer-book,
and never were chargeable on the blood of our family, I insist on immediate
justice to my kinsman. Let that cowardly scoundrel repeat and prove his
accusation of Téodore, face to face! You, señores, shall stand judges. Every
thing shall be fair. To-night, my boy shall be found guilty or purged of the
baseness imputed to him; and, moreover, I apprise you now, that if he is
innocent, I shall to-morrow restore him to liberty. His voluntary return was
a voucher of honesty; and I doubt whether there is a clever man among you
who does not agree with me. Stand forth, Gallego, and charge this youth
again with the infamy you heaped on him while he was away.”

But the sullen wretch bowed his head, with a hang-dog look, and rolled his
black and bushy skull slowly from side to side, with an air of bullying
defiance. Still he remained perfectly silent.
“Stand forth, Gallego, once more, I say!” shouted Don Rafael, stamping
with fury and foaming at the mouth; “stand forth, imp of the devil, and
make good your charge, or I’ll trice you up to these rafters by your thumbs,
and lash you with a cow-hide till your stretched skin peels off in ribbons!”
The threat restored Gallego’s voice; but he could only say that there was no
use in repeating the charges, because the case was prejudged, and all feared
Don Rafael and his parasite to such a degree that it was impossible to treat
him with justice. “Yet, look ye, señores, if I can’t talk, I can fight. If Don
Rafael is ready to meet me, knife in hand, in support of my cause, why, all I
have to say is, that I am ready for him and his bastard to boot!”
In a moment, Rafael’s knife was out of his belt, and the two sprang forward
in a death-struggle, which would doubtless have been a short affair, had not
the whole party interposed between the combatants and forbidden the fight.
In the hurly-burly, Gallego took to his heels and departed.
The scoundrel’s escape caused some alarm in the camp, as it was feared he
might leave the island, and, turning king’s evidence, make the waters of
Cuba too hot for the band. Accordingly, all the canoes and boats that night
were drawn up on the beach and kept under double watch.
When order was restored in the rancho, I asked Don Rafael to explain the
“three accusations” that had been made against my fair fame; when I
learned that I was charged by Gallego with having felled him in the boat,
with having shipped voluntarily in the privateer, and with returning in the
Cara-bobo’s boats to rob the rancho of its valuables!
The first of the allegations I admitted to be true; the second had been
disproved by the privateer’s boatmen; and, as to the third, I at once insisted
upon the party’s taking torches and accompanying me to the graveyard,
where, I told them, they would find—as, in truth, they did—the valuables
this villain had charged me with stealing. On our way thither, I recounted
the manner in which I detected his infamy.

Nest morning we divided into two parties, and taking the dogs, proceeded
in chase of the dastard Galician. He was quickly tracked by the hounds and
caught asleep, with two empty flasks beside him.
A drum-head court-martial at once convened for his trial, and it was
unanimously resolved to chain him to a tree, where he was to be left
exposed to the elements until he starved to death. The passive and silent fit
had again come over Gallego. I implored that the sentence might be
softened, but I was laughed at for my childish pity, and ordered home to the
rancho. The command to chain him having been executed, the Spanish
outcast was left to his terrible fate. One of the men, out of compassion, as
he said, secretly conveyed a case of gin to the doomed man, and left it
within reach, either to solace his departure from the world, or to render him
insensible. But his end was speedy. Next morning the guard found him
dead, with six empty bottles out of the case. His body was denied the rites
of sepulture. It was left lying in chains as he perished, to rot in the sun and
be devoured by the insects generated from his decay.

CHAPTER VI.
When these dreadful scenes were over, Don Rafael took me aside with the
pleasant news that the time for my liberation was indeed arrived. He handed
me one hundred and twenty-five dollars, which wore my share of the
proceeds of our lawful fishing. “Take the money,” said Rafael, with a good
deal of feeling; “take it, young man, with perfect confidence;—there is no
blood on it!”
My preparations for departure were quickly made, as Bachicha was in the
cove with his craft ready to take me to the mainland. I bade a hasty adieu to
the gang; and perhaps it is rare that any one ever abandoned the companions
of several months’ intimacy with so little pain. Rafael’s solicitude for my
character touched me. He had done all in his power to preserve my self-
respect, and I was, therefore, well disposed to regard the good counsel he
gave me at parting, and to believe in his sincerity when he pictured a bright
future, and contrasted it with his own desolation and remorse.
“I have recommended you, hijo mio, to a friend in Regla, on the opposite
side of the harbor at Havana, who will take care of you. He is a paisano of
ours. Take these additional ten ounces, which are the fruit of honest labor.
They will help you to appear properly in Havana; so that, with the care of
Bachicha and our Regla countryman, I don’t despair of your welfare. Adios!
para siempre!”
And so we parted;—and it was, indeed, an adieu for ever. We never met
again, but I heard of Don Rafael and his fortunes. The new enterprise with
the pilot-boat turned out successfully, and the band acquired considerable
property on the island before the piratical nests along the coast of Cuba
were broken up by cruisers. Rafael had some narrow escapes from the
noose and the yard arm; but he eluded the grasp of his pursuers, and died a
respectable ranchero on a comfortable farm in the interior of the Queen of
the Antilles.

The light winds of summer soon brought us inside the Moro Castle, past the
frowning batteries of the Cabanas, and at anchor near Regla, within the
beautiful harbor of Havana. I shall never forget the impression made on my
mind by this delicious scene as it first broke on my sight at sunrise, in all
the cool freshness of morning. The grand amphitheatre of hills swept down
to the calm and lake-like water with gentle slopes, lapped in the velvet
robes of richest green, and embroidered, as it were, with lace-like spots of
castle, fort, dwelling, and villa, until the seaward points were terminated on
the left, by the brilliant city, and on the right by a pile of majestic batteries.
This grand and lasting impression was made almost at a glance, for, at my
time of life, I was more concerned with man than nature, and rarely paused
to dwell on the most fascinating scenery. Accordingly, I hastened to Regla
with my letter of introduction, which was interpreted by Bachicha to the
Italian grocer, the friend of Rafael, to whom I was confided. Il signore
Carlo Cibo was an illiterate man of kind heart, who had adventurously
emigrated from Italy to furnish the Havanese with good things; while, in
return, the Havanese had been so pleased with his provender, that Carlo
may be said to have been a man “very well to do in the world” for a
foreigner. He received me with unbounded kindness;—welcomed me to his
bachelor home;—apologized for its cold cheerlessness, and ordered me to
consider himself and his “casa” entirely at my disposal as long as I chose to
remain.
I was content to accept this unstinted hospitality for a few days, while I ran
over the town, the hills, and the paseos; but I could not consent to dally
long eating the bread of idleness and charity. I observed that my friend
Carlo was either the most prudent or least inquisitive man I knew, for he
never asked me a question about my early or recent history. As he would
not lend the conversation to my affairs, I one day took the liberty to inquire
whether there was a vessel in port bound to the Pacific Ocean or Mexico, in
which my protector could possibly find a situation for me as an officer, or
procure me permission to work my way even as a common sailor.
The kind grocer instantly divined my true motive, and while he honored me
for it, deprecated the idea of my departure. He said that my visit, instead of
being a burden, was a pleasure he could not soon replace. As to the
expenses of his house, he declared they were, in fact, not increased. What

fed five, fed half a dozen; and, as to my proposal to go to Mexico, or any
other place in Spanish America on the Continent, with a view of “making
my fortune,” he warmly protested against it, in consequence of his own
experience.
“They can never conquer their jealousy of foreigners,” said Carlo; “you
may live with them for years, and imagine yourself as intimate as brothers;
but, at last, carramba, you will find something turn up, that marks you an
alien and kindles nationality against you. Take my advice, Don Téodore,
stay where you are; study Spanish carefully; get the hang of the people;
and, my life on it, before long, you’ll have your hands full of trump cards
and the game in your power.”
I did as he desired, and was presented to a corpulent old quiz of a padre,
who pretended to instruct me in classical Castilian. Two lessons
demonstrated his incapacity; but as he was a jolly gossip of my grocer, and
hail-fellow with the whole village of Regla, I thought it good policy to
continue his pupil in appearance, while I taught myself in private. Besides
this, the padre was a bon vivant and devoted lover of fish. Now, as I
happened to be a good sportsman, with a canoe at my command, I managed
to supply his kitchen with an abundance of the finny tribe, which his cook
was an adept in preparing. It may be supposed that our “fast days” were
especial epochs of delicious reunion. A fine dinner smoked on the table; a
good bottle was added by the grocer; and, while my entertainer discussed
the viands, I contrived to keep him in continual chat, which, in reality, was
the best practical lesson a man in my circumstances could receive.

It is strange how our lives and destinies are often decided by trifles. As I
sailed about the harbor in idleness, my nautical eye and taste were struck by
the trim rig of the sharp built “slavers,” which, at that time, used to
congregate at Havana. There was something bewitching to my mind in their
race-horse beauty. A splendid vessel has always had the same influence on
my mind, that I have heard a splendid woman has on the minds of other
men. These dashing slavers, with their arrowy hulls and raking masts, got
complete possession of my fancy. There was hardly a day that I did not

come home with a discovery of added charms. Signor Carlo listened in
silence and nodded his head, when I was done, with an approving smile and
a “bueno!”
I continued my sailing peregrinations for a month around the harbor, when
my kind entertainer invited me to accompany him aboard a vessel of which,
he said, he owned two shares—she was bound to Africa! The splendid
clipper was one of the very craft that had won my heart; and my feverish
soul was completely upset by the gala-scene as we drifted down the bay,
partaking of a famous breakfast, and quaffing bumpers of Champagne to the
schooner’s luck. When she passed the Moro Castle we leaped into our
boats, and gave the voyagers three hearty and tipsy cheers. My grocer was a
“slaver!”
I had a thousand questions for the Italian in regard to the trade, now that I
found he belonged to the fraternity. All my inquiries were gratified in his
usually amiable manner; and that night, in my dreams, I was on board of a
coaster chased by John Bull.
My mind was made up. Mexico, Peru, South American independence,
patriotism, and all that, were given to the breezes of the gulf. I slept off my
headache and nightmare; and next morning announced to Cibo my
abandonment of the Costa Firma, and my anxiety to get a situation in a
vessel bound to Africa.
In a few days I was told that my wishes would perhaps be gratified, as a fast
vessel from the Canaries was about to be sold; and if she went off a bargain,
Signor Carlo had resolved to purchase her, with a friend, to send to Africa.
Accordingly, the Canary “Globo” was acquired for $3000; and after a
perfect refitting at the Casa-Blanca of Havana, loomed in the harbor as a
respectable pilot-boat of forty tons. Her name, in consequence of reputed
speed, was changed to “El Areostatico;” a culverine was placed amidships;
all the requisites for a slave cargo were put on board; fifteen sailors, the
refuse of the press-gang and jail-birds, were shipped; powder, ammunition,
and small arms, were abundantly supplied; and, last of all, four kegs,
ballasted with specie, were conveyed into the cabin to purchase our return
cargo.

It was on the 2d of September, 1826, after a charming déjeuner, that I bade
farewell to my friend Carlo on the deck of the Areostatico, cleared for the
Cape de Verd isles, but, in truth, bound for the Rio Pongo. Our crew
consisted of twenty-one scamps—Spaniards, Portuguese, Frenchmen, and
mongrels. The Majorcan captain was an odd character to intrust with such
an enterprise, and probably nowhere else, save in Havana at that period,
would he have been allowed to command a slaver. He was a scientific
navigator, but no sailor;—afraid of his shadow, he had not a particle of
confidence in his own judgment; every body was listened to, and he readily
yielded his opinions without argument or controversy. Our chief officer, a
Catalonian cousin of the captain, made no pretensions to seamanship, yet he
was a good mathematician. I still remember the laughs I had at the care he
took of his lily-white hands, and the jokes we cracked upon his girl-like
manners, voice, and conversation. The boatswain, who was in his watch,
assured me that he rarely gave an order without humming it out to a tune of
some favorite opera.
In this fantastic group, I occupied the position of supernumerary officer and
interpreter; but accustomed, as I had been, to wholesome American
seamanship and discipline, I trembled not a little when I discovered the
amazing ignorance of the master, and observed the utter worthlessness of
our crew. These things made me doubly vigilant; and sometimes I grieved
that I was not still in Regla, or on the paseo. On the tenth day out, a
northwester began to pipe and ripen to a gale as the sea rose with it. Sail
had been soon diminished on the schooner; but when I was relieved in my
watch by the first officer, I hinted to the captain that it would be best to lay
the vessel to as soon as possible. We had been scudding before the tempest
for some hours under a close-reefed foresail, and I feared if we did not
bring our craft to the wind at once, we would either run her under, or be
swamped in attempting the manœuvre when the waves got higher. The
captain, however, with his usual submission to the views of the wrong
person, took the advice of the helmsman, who happened to be older than I,
and the schooner was allowed to dash on either through or over the seas, at
the speed of a racer.
By this time the forward deck was always under water, and the men
gathered abaft the trunk to keep as dry as possible. Officers and crew were
huddled together pell-mell, and, with our usual loose discipline, every body

joined in the conversation and counsel. Before sundown I again advised the
laying-to of the schooner; but the task had now become so formidable that
the men who dreaded the job, assured the captain that the wind would fall
as the moon arose. Yet, when the dim orb appeared above the thick, low-
drifting scud, the gale increased. The light rather hinted than revealed the
frightful scene around that egg-shell on the lashed and furious sea. Each
wave swept over us, but our buoyant craft rose on the succeeding swell, and
cleft its crest with her knife-like prow. It was now too late to attempt
bringing her to the wind; still it became more urgent to do something to
prevent us from being submerged by the huge seas, which came thundering
after us like avalanches on our quarters.
The perilous dilemma of our doubtful captain and his dainty mate, may be
easily imagined. Every body had an opinion, and of course they vied with
each other in absurdity;—at last some one proposed to cut away the
foresail, and bring her to the wind under bare poles.
I was “conning” the schooner when this insane scheme was broached, and
fearing that the captain might adopt it, I leaped on the hatch, after calling
the boatswain to my place, and assured the crew that if they severed the
sail, we would lose command of the vessel, so that with impaired headway,
the next wave that struck her would show her keel to the skies and her dock
to the fishes. I exhorted them to drive her faster if possible rather than stop.
To turn out the “balance reef,” I said, was our only salvation;—and I
alleged that I had seen a vessel saved before in precisely the same way.
Cowards, with death clutching their throats, were soon convinced by a man
of nerve. I availed myself of the instantaneous silence that followed my act,
and before the captain could think or speak, I leaped to the boom with my
sharp knife, cutting the reef-points slowly and carefully, so as not to allow
the foresail to be inflated and torn by a single blast.
My judgment was correct. Our increased canvas immediately sent us
skimming over the waves; the rollers no longer combed dangerously over
our quarter; we scudded steadily throughout the remnant of the gale; and,
next night, at sundown, we rested on a quiet, lake-like ocean, taughtening
the strained rigging, and priding ourselves mightily on the hazards we
encountered and overcame. The Minorcan skipper was satisfied that no man
ever before performed so daring an exploit. He was, moreover, convinced,

that no one but himself could have carried the schooner through so frightful
a storm, or would have invented the noble expedient of driving instead of
stripping her!
From this hour all semblance of regular discipline was abandoned. Sailors,
who are suffered to tread the quarter-deck familiarly and offer their
opinions, never get over the permitted freedom. Our ragamuffins of the
Areostatico could never abide the idea that the youngest seaman aboard,—
and he, too, a foreigner,—should have proved the best sailor. The skilful
performance of my duty was the source of a rankling grudge. As I would
not mix with the scamps, they called me arrogant. My orders were
negligently obeyed; and, in fact, every thing in the schooner became as
comfortless as possible.
Forty-one days, however, brought us to the end of our voyage at the mouth
of the Rio Pongo. No one being acquainted with the river’s entrance or
navigation, the captain and four hands went ashore for a pilot, who came off
in the afternoon, while our master ascended in a boat to the slave-factory at
Bangalang. Four o’clock found us entering the Rio Pongo, with tide and
wind in our favor, so that before the sun sank into the Atlantic Ocean we
were safe at our anchorage below the settlement.
While we were slowly drifting between the river banks, and watching the
gorgeous vegetation of Africa, which, that evening, first burst upon my
sight, I fell into a chat with the native pilot, who had been in the United
States, and spoke English remarkably well. Berak very soon inquired
whether there was any one else on board who spoke the language besides
myself, and when told that the cabin-boy alone knew it, he whispered a
story which, in truth, I was not in the least surprised to hear.
That afternoon one of our crew had attempted the captain’s life, while on
shore, by snapping a carabine behind his back! Our pilot learned the fact
from a native who followed the party from the landing, along the beach;
and its truth was confirmed, in his belief, by the significant boasts made by
the tallest of the boatmen who accompanied him on board. He was satisfied
that the entire gang contemplated our schooner’s seizure.
The pilot’s story corroborated some hints I received from our cook during
the voyage. It struck me instantly, that if a crime like this were really

designed, no opportunity for its execution could be more propitious than the
present. I determined, therefore, to omit no precaution that might save the
vessel and the lives of her honest officers. On examining the carabines
brought back from shore, which I had hurriedly thrown into the arm-chest
on deck, I found that the lock of this armory had been forced, and several
pistols and cutlasses abstracted.
Preparations had undoubtedly been made to assassinate us. As night drew
on, my judgment, as well as nervousness, convinced me that the darkness
would not pass without a murderous attempt. There was an unusual silence.
On reaching port, there is commonly fun and merriment among crews; but
the usual song and invariable guitar were omitted from the evening’s
entertainment. I searched the deck carefully, yet but two mariners were
found above the hatches apparently asleep. Inasmuch as I was only a
subordinate officer, I could not command, nor had I any confidence in the
nerve or judgment of the chief mate, if I trusted my information to him. Still
I deemed it a duty to tell him the story, as well as my discovery about the
missing arms. Accordingly, I called the first officer, boatswain, and cook, as
quietly as possible, into the cabin; leaving our English cabin-boy to watch
in the companion way. Here I imparted our danger, and asked their
assistance in striking the first blow. My plan was to secure the crew, and
give them battle. The mate, as I expected, shrank like a girl, declining any
step till the captain returned. The cook and boatswain, however, silently
approved my movement; so that we counselled our cowardly comrade to
remain below, while we assumed the responsibility and risk of the
enterprise.
It may have been rather rash, but I resolved to begin the rescue, by shooting
down, like a dog and without a word, the notorious Cuban convict who had
attempted the captain’s life. This, I thought, would strike panic into the
mutineers; and end the mutiny in the most bloodless way. Drawing a pair of
large horse-pistols from beneath the captain’s pillow, and examining the
load, I ordered the cook and boatswain to follow me to the deck. But the
craven officer would not quit his hold on my person. He besought me not to
commit murder. He clung to me with the panting fear and grasp of a
woman. He begged me, with every term of endearment, to desist; and, in
the midst of my scuffle to throw him off, one of the pistols accidentally
exploded. A moment after, my vigilant watch-boy screamed from the

starboard, a warning “look-out!” and, peering forward in the blinding
darkness as I emerged from the lighted cabin, I beheld the stalwart form of
the ringleader, brandishing a cutlass within a stride of me. I aimed and fired.
We both fell; the mutineer with two balls in his abdomen, and I from the
recoil of an over-charged pistol.
My face was cut, and my eye injured by the concussion; but as neither
combatant was deprived of consciousness, in a moment we were both on
our feet. The Spanish felon, however, pressed his hand on his bowels, and
rushed forward exclaiming he was slain; but, in his descent to the
forecastle, he was stabbed in the shoulder with a bayonet by the boatswain,
whose vigorous blow drove the weapon with such tremendous force that it
could hardly be withdrawn from the scoundrel’s carcass.
I said I was up in a minute; and, feeling my face with my hand, I perceived
a quantity of blood on my cheek, around which I hastily tied a
handkerchief, below my eyes. I then rushed to the arm-chest. At that
moment, the crack of a pistol, and a sharp, boyish cry, told me that my pet
was wounded beside me. I laid him behind the hatchway, and returned to
the charge. By this time I was blind with rage, and fought, it seems, like a
madman. I confess that I have no personal recollection whatever of the
following events, and only learned them from the subsequent report of the
cook and boatswain.
I stood, they said, over the arm-chest like one spell-bound. My eyes were
fixed on the forecastle; and, as head after head loomed out of the darkness
above the hatch, I discharged carabine after carabine at the mark. Every
thing that moved fell by my aim. As I fired the weapons, I flung them away
to grasp fresh ones: and, when the battle was over, the cook aroused me
from my mad stupor, still groping wildly for arms in the emptied chest.
As the smoke cleared off, the fore part of our schooner seemed utterly
deserted: yet we found two men dead, one in mortal agony on the deck,
while the ringleader and a colleague were gasping in the forecastle. Six
pistols had been fired against us from forward; but, strange to say, the only
efficient ball was the one that struck my English boy’s leg.
When I came to my senses, my first quest was for the gallant boatswain,
who, being unarmed on the forecastle when the unexpected discharge took

place, and seeing no chance of escape from my murderous carabines, took
refuge over the bows.
Our cabin-boy was soon quieted. The mutineers needed but little care for
their hopeless wounds, while the felon chief, like all such wretches, died in
an agony of despicable fear, shrieking for pardon. My shriving of his sins
was a speedy rite!
Such was my first night in Africa!

CHAPTER VII.
There are casual readers who may consider the scene described in the last chapter
unnatural. It may be said that a youth, whose life had been chequered by trials and
disasters, but who preserved a pure sensibility throughout them, is sadly distorted
when portrayed as expanding, at a leap, into a desperado. I have but little to say in
reply to these objections, save that the occurrences are perfectly true as stated, and,
moreover, that I am satisfied they were only the natural developments of my character.
From my earliest years I have adored nobility of soul, and detested dishonor and
treachery. I have passed through scenes which will be hereafter told, that the world
may qualify by harsh names; yet I have striven to conduct myself throughout them,
not only with the ideas of fairness current among reckless men, but with the truth that,
under all circumstances, characterizes an honorable nature.
Now, the tragedy of my first night on the Rio Pongo was my transition from pupilage
to responsible independence. I do not allege in a boastful spirit that I was a man of
courage; because courage, or the want of it, are things for which a person is no more
responsible than he is for the possession or lack of physical strength. I was, moreover,
always a man of what I may style self-possessed passion. I was endowed with
something more than cool energy; or, rather, cool energy was heightened and
sublimated by the fire of an ardent nature. Hitherto, I had been tempered down by the
habitual obedience to which I was subjected as a sailor under lawful discipline. But
the events of the last six months, and especially the gross relaxation on the voyage to
Africa, the risks we had run in navigating the vessel, and the outlaws that surrounded
me, not only kept my mind for ever on the alert, but aroused my dormant nature to a
full sense of duty and self-protection.
Is it unnatural, then, for a man whose heart and nerves have been laid bare for months,
to quiver with agony and respond with headlong violence, when imperilled character,
property and life, hang upon the fiat of his courageous promptitude? The doubters
may cavil over the philosophy, but I think I may remain content with the fact. I did my
duty—dreadful as it was.
Let me draw a veil over our gory decks when the gorgeous sun of Africa shot his first
rays through the magnificent trees and herbage that hemmed the placid river. Five
bodies were cast into the stream, and the traces of the tragedy obliterated as well as
possible. The recreant mate, who plunged into the cabin at the report of the first pistol
from the forecastle, reappeared with haggard looks and trembling frame, to protest
that he had no hand in what he called “the murder.” The cook, boatswain, and African
pilot, recounted the whole transaction to the master, who inserted it in the log-book,

and caused me to sign the narrative with unimplicated witnesses. Then the wound of
the cabin-boy was examined and found to be trifling, while mine, though not painful,
was thought to imperil my sight. The flint lock of a rebounding pistol had inflicted
three gashes, just beneath the eye on my cheek.
There was but little appetite for breakfast that day. After the story was told and
recorded, we went sadly to work unmooring the vessel, bringing her slowly like a
hearse to an anchorage in front of Bangalang, the residence and factory of Mr.
Ormond, better known by the country-name of “Mongo John.” This personage came
on board early in the morning with our returned captain, and promised to send a native
doctor to cure both my eye and the boy’s leg, making me pledge him a visit as soon as
the vessel’s duties would permit.
That evening the specie was landed, and the schooner left in my charge by the master,
with orders to strip, repair, and provide for the voyage home. Before night, Mongo
John fulfilled his promise of a physician, who came on board with his prescription,—
not in his pocket, but by his side! He ordered my torn cheek to be bathed, every half-
hour, with human milk fresh from the breast; and, in order to secure a prompt, pure,
and plentiful supply, a stout negress and her infant were sent, with orders to remain as
long as her lacteal services might be required! I cannot say whether nature or the
remedy healed my wound, but in a short time the flesh cicatrized, and all symptoms of
inflammation disappeared entirely.
It required ten days to put the Areostatico in ship-shape and supply her with wood and
water. Provisions had been brought from Havana, so that it was only necessary we
should stow them in an accessible manner. As our schooner was extremely small, we
possessed no slave-deck; accordingly, mats were spread over the fire-wood which
filled the interstices of the water-casks, in order to make an even surface for our
cargo’s repose.
When my tiresome task was done, I went ashore—almost for the first time—to report
progress to the master; but he was still unprepared to embark his living freight. Large
sums, far in advance of the usual market, were offered by him for a cargo of boys; still
we were delayed full twenty days longer than our contract required before a supply
reached Bangalang.
As I had promised Mongo John, or John the Chief, to visit his factory, I took this
opportunity to fulfil my pledge. He received me with elaborate politeness; showed me
his town, barracoons, and stores, and even stretched a point, to honor me by an
introduction to the penetralia of his harem. The visit paid, he insisted that I should
dine with him; and a couple of choice bottles were quickly disposed of. Ormond, like
myself, had been a sailor. We spoke of the lands, scenes, and adventures, each had
passed through, while a fresh bottle was called to fillip our memories. There is

nothing so nourishing to friendship as wine! Before sundown our electric memories
had circled the globe, and our intimacy culminated.
While the rosy fluid operated as a sedative on the Mongo, and glued him to his chair
in a comfortable nap, it had a contrary effect on my exhilarated nerves. I strolled to
the verandah to get a breath of fresh air from the river, but soon dashed off in the
darkness to the sacred precincts of the harem! I was not detected till I reached nearly
the centre of the sanctuary where Ormond confined his motley group of black,
mulatto, and quarteroon wives. The first dame who perceived me was a bright
mulatto, with rosy checks, sloe-like eyes, coquettish turban, and most voluptuous
mouth, whom I afterwards discovered to be second in the chief’s affections. In an
instant the court resounded with a chattering call to her companions, so that, before I
could turn, the whole band of gabbling parrots hemmed me in with a deluge of talk.
Fame had preceded me! My sable nurse was a servant of the harem, and her visit to
the schooner, with the tale of the tragedy, supplied anecdotes for a lifetime. Every
body was on the qui vive to see the “white fighter.” Every body was crazy to feel the
“white skin” she had healed. Then, with a sudden, childish freak of caprice, they ran
off from me as if afraid, and at once rushed back again like a flock of glib-tongued
and playful monkeys. I could not comprehend a word they said; but the bevy squealed
with quite as much pleasure as if I did, and peered into my eyes for answers, with
impish devilry at my wondering ignorance.
At last, my sable friends seemed not only anxious to amuse themselves but to do
something for my entertainment also. A chatter in a corner settled what it should be.
Two or three brought sticks, while two or three brought coals. A fire was quickly
kindled in the centre of the court; and as its flames lit up the area, a whirling circle of
half-stripped girls danced to the monotonous beat of a tom-tom. Presently, the formal
ring was broken, and each female stepping out singly, danced according to her
individual fancy. Some were wild, some were soft, some were tame, and some were
fiery. After so many years I have no distinct recollection of the characteristic
movements of these semi-savages, especially as the claret and champagne rather
fermented in my brain, and possessed me with the idea that it was my duty to mingle
in the bounding throng. I resolved that the barbarians should have a taste of Italian
quality!
Accordingly, I leaped from the hammock where I had swung idly during the scene,
and, beginning with a balancez and an avant-deux, terminated my terpsichorean
exhibition by a regular “double shuffle” and sailor’s hornpipe. The delirious laughter,
cracked sides, rollicking fun, and outrageous merriment, with which my feats were
received, are unimaginable by sober-sided people. Tired of my single exhibition, I
seized the prettiest of the group by her slim, shining waist, and whirled her round and
round the court in the quickest of waltzes, until, with a kiss, I laid her giddy and
panting on the floor. Then, grasping another,—another,—another,—and another,—and

treating each to the same dizzy swim, I was about waltzing the whole seraglio into
quiescence, when who should rise before us but the staring and yawning Mongo!
The apparition sobered me. A quarteroon pet of Ormond,—just spinning into
fashionable and luscious insensibility,—fell from my arms into those of her master;
and while I apologized for the freak, I charged it altogether to the witchcraft of his wit
and wine.
“Ha!” said the Mongo, “St. Vitus is in your Italian heels the moment you are within
hail of music and dancing; and, by Jove, it seems you can scent a petticoat as readily
as a hound tracks runaways. But there’s no harm in dancing, Don Téodore; only
hereafter I hope you will enjoy the amusement in a less uproarious manner. In Africa
we are fond of a siesta after dinner; and I recommend you to get, as soon as possible,
under the lee of another bottle.”
We retired once more to his mahogany; and, under the spell of my chieftain’s claret
and sea-yarns, I was soon lapped in delicious sleep.

Next day the captain of the Areostatico drew me aside confidentially, and hinted that
Ormond had taken such a decided fancy for me, and insinuated so warm a wish for
my continuance as his clerk at Bangalang, that he thought it quite a duty, though a sad
one, to give his advice on the subject.
“It may be well for your purse, Don Téodore, to stay with so powerful a trader; but
beside the improvement of your fortunes, there are doubts whether it will be
wholesome for you to revisit Havana, at least at present. It may be said, amigo mio,
that you commenced the warfare on board the schooner;—and as five men were slain
in the affray, it will be necessary for me to report the fact to the commandante as soon
as I arrive. Now it is true, hijo mio, that you saved the vessel, cargo, specie, and my
cousin; yet, God knows what may be the result of Havana justice. You will have a
rigid examination, and I rather think you will be imprisoned until the final decision is
made. When that consummation shall occur is quite uncertain. If you have friends,
they will be bled as long as possible before you get out; if you have none, no one will
take pains to see you released without recompense. When you see daylight once more,
the rest of these ragamuffins and the felon friends of the dead men, will begin to dog
your steps, and make Havana uncomfortable as well as dangerous; so that I have no
hesitation in recommending you to stay where you are, and take the doubloons of the
Mongo.”
I thought I saw at a glance the drift of this hypocritical fanfaronade, and was satisfied
he only desired to get rid of me in order to reinstate the chief mate in a situation which

he surely could not occupy as long as I was on board. As I meant to stay in Africa, I
told him at once that I grieved because he had not spoken his wishes openly, boldly,
and honestly, like a man, but had masked an ungrateful cowardice by hypocritical
solicitude for my welfare. I departed abruptly with a scowl of contempt; and as he
hastened to hide his blanched face in the cabin, I called a boat, and throwing my sea
chest, bedding, and arms, aboard, committed my fate to the African continent. A half-
hour turned and decided my fate!
Mr. Ormond received me very cordially, and, installing me in my new secretaryship,
promised a private establishment, a seat at his table, and a negro per month,—or its
value at the rate of forty dollars,—for my services.
When the runners returned from the interior with the slaves required to complete the
Areostatico’s cargo, I considered it my duty to the Italian grocer of Regla to dispatch
his vessel personally. Accordingly, I returned on board to aid in stowing one hundred
and eight boys and girls, the eldest of whom did not exceed fifteen years! As I crawled
between decks, I confess I could not imagine how this little army was to be packed or
draw breath in a hold but twenty-two inches high! Yet the experiment was promptly
made, inasmuch as it was necessary to secure them below in descending the river, in
order to prevent their leaping overboard and swimming ashore. I found it impossible
to adjust the whole in a sitting posture; but we made them lie down in each other’s
laps, like sardines in a can, and in this way obtained space for the entire cargo.
Strange to tell, when the Areostatico reached Havana, but three of these “passengers”
had paid the debt of nature.
As I left the schooner a few miles outside the bar, I crossed her side without an adieu
save for the English cabin-boy, whose fate I was pained to intrust to these stupid
Spaniards. Indeed, the youth almost belonged to me, for I may say he owed his life to
my interference.
Previous to the voyage, while waiting in the harbor of Havana for a crew, our vessel
was anchored near the wharves, next to an English merchantman. One afternoon I
heard a scream from the neighboring craft, and perceived a boy rush from the cabin
with his face dyed in blood. He was instantly pursued by a burly seaman, inflicting
blows with his fist. I implored the brute to desist, but my interference seemed to
augment his choler to such a degree, that he seized a handspike to knock the stripling
down. Upon this I called the child to leap overboard, at the same time commanding a
hand to lower my boat and scull in the direction of his fall. The boy obeyed my voice;
and in a few minutes I had him on board blessing me for his safety. But the drunken
Briton vented his rage in the most indecent language; and had his boat been aboard, I
doubt not a summary visit would have terminated in a fight on my deck.
However, as good luck would have it, his skiff was at the landing, so that there was
ample time, before he could reach the Areostatico, to tie up the bruised face and

broken rib of the child, and to conceal him in the house of a Spanish crone in Havana,
who cured the maladies of credulous seamen by witchcraft!
After nightfall the master of the British vessel came aboard to claim his boy; but as he
was petulant and seemed disposed to carry matters with a high hand, my temper rose
in resistance, and I refused to release the child until he sealed with an oath his promise
to treat him better in future. But the cruel scoundrel insisted on unconditional
surrender; and to end the controversy, I was compelled to order him off the schooner.
British pluck of course would not allow a captain to be deprived so easily of his
property, so the British consul was invoked to appeal to the captain of the port. This
personage summoned me before him, and listened calmly to a story which added no
honor to English mariners. In my last interview with the boy he implored my
continued protection and concealment; so that when the Spanish official declared—
notwithstanding the officer’s conduct—that the vessel was entitled to her crew, and
that I must surrender the child, I excused myself from complying by pleading utter
ignorance of his whereabout. In view of this contingency, I directed the woman to
hide him in a place of which I should be ignorant. So I told no lie, and saved the boy
from his tyrant.
The inquiry was dropped at this stage of proceedings. When the British vessel sailed a
few days after, I caused the youth to be brought from his concealment; and, with our
captain’s consent, brought him aboard to serve in our cabin.
I have narrated this little episode in consequence of my love for the boy, and because
he was the only English subject I ever knew to ship in a slaver.
I requested the Areostatico’s owners to pay him liberally for his fidelity when he got
back to Havana; and I was happy to learn next year, that they not only complied with
my request, but sent him home to his friends in Liverpool.

CHAPTER VIII.
When I got back to Bangalang, my first movement was to take possession of the
quarters assigned me by the Mongo, and to make myself as comfortable as possible in
a land whose chief requirements are shade and shelter. My house, built of cane
plastered with mud, consisted of two earthen-floored rooms and a broad verandah.
The thatched roof was rather leaky, while my furniture comprised two arm-chests
covered with mats, a deal table, a bamboo settle, a tin-pan with palm-oil for a lamp,
and a German looking-glass mounted in a paper frame. I augmented these comforts by
the addition of a trunk, mattress, hammock and pair of blankets; yet, after all this
embellishment, I confess my household was rather a sorry affair.
It is time I should make the reader acquainted with the individual who was the
presiding genius of the scene, and, in some degree, a type of his peculiar class in
Africa.
Mr. Ormond was the son of an opulent slave-trader from Liverpool, and owed his
birth to the daughter of a native chief on the Rio Pongo. His father seems to have been
rather proud of his mulatto stripling, and dispatched him to England to be educated.
But Master John had made little progress in belles-lettres, when news of the trader’s
death was brought to the British agent, who refused the youth further supplies of
money. The poor boy soon became an outcast in a land which had not yet become
fashionably addicted to philanthropy; and, after drifting about awhile in England, he
shipped on board a merchantman. The press-gang soon got possession of the likely
mulatto for the service of his Britannic Majesty. Sometimes he played the part of
dandy waiter in the cabin; sometimes he swung a hammock with the hands in the
forecastle. Thus, five years slipped by, during which the wanderer visited most of the
West Indian and Mediterranean stations.
At length the prolonged cruise was terminated, and Ormond paid off. He immediately
determined to employ his hoarded cash in a voyage to Africa, where he might claim
his father’s property. The project was executed; his mother was still found alive; and,
fortunately for the manly youth, she recognized him at once as her first-born.
The reader will recollect that these things occurred on the west coast of Africa in the
early part of the present century, and that the tenure of property, and the interests of
foreign traders, were controlled entirely by such customary laws as prevailed on the
spot. Accordingly, a “grand palaver” was appointed, and all Mr. Ormond’s brothers,
sisters, uncles, and cousins,—many of whom were in possession of his father’s slaves
or their descendants,—were summoned to attend. The “talk” took plate at the
appointed time. The African mother stood forth stanchly to assert the identity and

rights of her first-born, and, in the end, all of the Liverpool trader’s property, in
houses, lands, and negroes, that could be ascertained, was handed over, according to
coast-law, to the returned heir.
When the mulatto youth was thus suddenly elevated into comfort, if not opulence, in
his own country, he resolved to augment his wealth by pursuing his father’s business.
But the whole country was then desolated by a civil war, occasioned, as most of them
are, by family disputes, which it was necessary to terminate before trade could be
comfortably established.
To this task Ormond steadfastly devoted his first year. His efforts were seconded by
the opportune death of one of the warring chiefs. A tame opponent,—a brother of
Ormond’s mother,—was quickly brought to terms by a trifling present; so that the
sailor boy soon concentrated the family influence, and declared himself “Mongo,” or,
Chief of the River.
Bangalang had long been a noted factory among the English traders. When war was
over, Ormond selected this post as his permanent residence, while he sent runners to
Sierra Leone and Goree with notice that he would shortly be prepared with ample
cargoes. Trade, which had been so long interrupted by hostilities, poured from the
interior. Vessels from Goree and Sierra Leone were seen in the offing, responding to
his invitation. His stores were packed with British, French, and American fabrics;
while hides, wax, palm-oil, ivory, gold, and slaves, were the native products for which
Spaniards and Portuguese hurried to proffer their doubloons and bills.
It will be readily conjectured that a very few years sufficed to make Jack Ormond not
only a wealthy merchant, but a popular Mongo among the great interior tribes of
Foulahs and Mandingoes. The petty chiefs, whose territory bordered the sea, flattered
him with the title of king; and, knowing his Mormon taste, stocked his harem with
their choicest children as the most valuable tokens of friendship and fidelity.
When I was summoned to act as secretary or clerk of such a personage, I saw
immediately that it would be well not only to understand my duties promptly, but to
possess a clear estimate of the property I was to administer and account for. Ormond’s
easy habits satisfied me that he was not a man of business originally, or had become
sadly negligent under the debasing influence of wealth and voluptuousness. My
earliest task, therefore, was to make out a minute inventory of his possessions, while I
kept a watchful eye on his stores, never allowing any one to enter them unattended.
When I presented this document, which exhibited a large deficiency, the Mongo
received it with indifference, begging me not to “annoy him with accounts.” His
manner indicated so much petulant fretfulness, that I augured from it the conscious
decline or disorder of his affairs.

As I was returning to the warehouse from this mortifying interview, I encountered an
ancient hag,—a sort of superintendent Cerberus or manager of the Mongo’s harem,—
who, by signs, intimated that she wanted the key to the “cloth-chest,” whence she
immediately helped herself to several fathoms of calico. The crone could not speak
English, and, as I did not understand the Soosoo dialect, we attempted no oral
argument about the propriety of her conduct; but, taking a pencil and paper, and
making signs that she should go to the Mongo, who would write an order for the
raiment, I led her quietly to the door. The wrath of the virago was instantly kindled,
while her horrid face gleamed with that devilish ferocity, which, in some degree is lost
by Africans who dwell on our continent. During the reign of my predecessors, it
seems that she had been allowed to control the store keys, and to help herself
unstintedly. I knew not, of course, what she said on this occasion; but the violence of
her gestures, the nervous spasms of her limbs, the flashing of her eyes, the scream of
her voluble tongue, gave token that she swelled with a rage which was augmented by
my imperturbable quietness. At dinner, I apprised Mr. Ormond of the negro’s conduct;
but he received the announcement with the same laugh of indifference that greeted the
account of his deficient inventory.
That night I had just stretched myself on my hard pallet, and was revolving the
difficulties of my position with some degree of pain at my forced continuance in
Africa, when my servant tapped softly at the door, and announced that some one
demanded admittance, but begged that I would first of all extinguish the light. I was in
a country requiring caution; so I felt my pistols before I undid the latch. It was a
bright, star-light night; and, as I opened the door sufficiently to obtain a glance
beyond,—still maintaining my control of the aperture,—I perceived the figure of a
female, wrapped in cotton cloth from head to foot, except the face, which I recollected
as that of the beautiful quarteroon I was whirling in the waltz, when surprised by the
Mongo. She put forth her hands from the folds of her garment, and laying one softly
on my arm, while she touched her lips with the other, looked wistfully behind, and
glided into my apartment.
This poor girl, the child of a mulatto mother and a white parent, was born in the
settlement of Sierra Leone, and had acquired our language with much more fluency
than is common among her race. It was said that her father had been originally a
missionary from Great Britain, but abandoned his profession for the more lucrative
traffic in slaves, to which he owed an abundant fortune. It is probable that the early
ecclesiastical turn of her delinquent progenitor induced him, before he departed for
America, to bestow on his child the biblical name of Esther.
I led my trembling visitor to the arm-chest, and, seating her gently by my side,
inquired why I was favored by so stealthy a visit from the harem. My suspicions were
aroused; for, though a novice in Africa, I knew enough of the discipline maintained in

these slave factories, not to allow my fancy to seduce me with the idea that her visit
was owing to mad-cap sentimentality.
The manner of these quarteroon girls, whose complexion hardly separates them from
our own race, is most winningly graceful; and Esther, with abated breath, timidly
asked my pardon for intruding, while she declared I had made so bitter an enemy of
Unga-golah,—the head-woman of the seraglio,—that, in spite of danger, she stole to
my quarters with a warning. Unga swore revenge. I had insulted and thwarted her; I
was able to thwart her at all times, if I remained the Mongo’s “book-man;”—I must
soon “go to another country;” but, if I did not, I would quickly find the food of
Bangalang excessively unwholesome! “Never eat any thing that a Mandingo offers
you,” said Esther. “Take your meals exclusively from the Mongo’s table. Unga-golah
knows all the Mandingo jujus, and she will have no scruple in using them in order to
secure once more the control of the store keys. Good night!”
With this she rose to depart, begging me to be silent about her visit, and to believe that
a poor slave could feel true kindness for a white man, or even expose herself to save
him.
If an unruly passion had tugged at my heartstrings, the soft appeal, the liquid tones,
the tenderness of this girl’s humanity, would have extinguished it in an instant. It was
the first time for many a long and desolate mouth that I had experienced the gentle
touch of a woman’s hand, or felt the interest of mortal solicitude fall like a refreshing
dew upon my heart! Who will censure me for halting on my door-sill as I led her
forth, retaining her little hand in mine, while I cast my eyes over the lithe symmetry of
those slender and rounded limbs; while I feasted on the flushed magnolia of those
beautiful cheeks, twined my fingers in the trailing braids of that raven hair, peered into
the blackness of those large and swimming orbs, felt a tear trickle down my hardening
face, and left, on those coral lips, the print of a kiss that was fuller of gratitude than
passion!

Nowadays that Mormonism is grafting a “celestial wifery” upon the civilization of the
nineteenth century, I do not think it amiss to recall the memory of those African
establishments which formed so large a portion of a trader’s homestead. It is not to be
supposed that the luxurious harem of Turkey or Egypt was transferred to the Guinea
coast, or that its lofty walls were barricaded by stout gates, guarded by troops of sable
eunuchs. The “wifery” of my employer was a bare inclosure, formed by a
quadrangular cluster of mud-houses, the entrance to whose court-yard was never
watched save at night. Unga-golah, the eldest and least delectable of the dames,

maintained the establishment’s police, assigned gifts or servants to each female, and
distributed her master’s favors according to the bribes she was cajoled by.
In early life and during his gorged prosperity, Ormond,—a stout, burly, black-eyed,
broad-shouldered, short-necked man,—ruled his harem with the rigid decorum of the
East. But as age and misfortunes stole over the sensual voluptuary, his mental and
bodily vigor became impaired, not only by excessive drink, but by the narcotics to
which he habitually resorted for excitement. When I became acquainted with him, his
face and figure bore the marks of a worn-out debauché. His harem now was a fashion
of the country rather than a domestic resort. His wives ridiculed him, or amused
themselves as they pleased. I learned from Esther that there was hardly one who did
not “flirt” with a lover in Bangalang, and that Unga-golah was blinded by gifts, while
the stupor of the Mongo was perpetuated by liquor.
It may be supposed that in such a seraglio, and with such a master, there were but few
matrimonial jealousies; still, as it would be difficult to find, even in our most Christian
society, two females without some lurking bitterness towards rivals, so it is not to be
imagined that the Mongo’s mansion was free from womanly quarrels. These disputes
chiefly occurred when Ormond distributed gifts of calico, beads, tobacco, pipes and
looking-glasses. If the slightest preference or inequality was shown, adieu to order.
Unga-golah descended below zero! The favorite wife, outraged by her neglected
authority, became furious; and, for a season, pandemonium was let loose in
Bangalang.
One of these scenes of passion occurs to me as I write. I was in the store with the
Mongo when an aggrieved dame, not remarkable either for delicacy of complexion or
sweetness of odor, entered the room, and marching up with a swagger to her master,
dashed a German looking-glass on the floor at his feet. She wanted a larger one, for
the glass bestowed on her was half an inch smaller than the gifts to her companions.
When Ormond was sober, his pride commonly restrained him from allowing the
women to molest his leisure; so he quietly turned from the virago and ordered her out
of the store.
But my lady was not to be appeased by dignity like this. “Ha!” shrieked the
termagant, as she wrenched off her handkerchief. “Ha!” yelled she, tearing off one
sleeve, and then the other. “Ha!” screamed the fiend, kicking a shoe into one corner,
and the other shoe into another corner. “Ha! Mongo!” roared the beldame, as she
stripped every garment from her body and stood absolutely naked before us, slapping
her wool, cheeks, forehead, breasts, arms, stomach and limbs, and appealing to
Ormond to say where she was deficient in charms, that she should be slighted half an
inch on a looking-glass?

As the Mongo was silent, she strode up to me for an opinion; but, scarlet with blushes,
I dived behind the cloth-chest, and left the laughing Ormond to gratify the whim of
the “model artiste.”
Years afterwards, I remember seeing an infuriate Ethiopian fling her infant into the
fire because its white father preferred the child of another spouse. Indeed, I was glad
my station at Bangalang did not make it needful for the preservation of my
respectability that I should indulge in the luxury of African matrimony!

But these exhibitions of jealous passion were not excited alone by the unequal
distribution of presents from the liege lord of Bangalang. I have observed that
Ormond’s wives took advantage of his carelessness and age, to seek congenial
companionship outside the harem. Sometimes the preference of two of these sable
belles alighted on the same lover, and then the battle was transferred from a worthless
looking-glass to the darling beau. When such a quarrel arose, a meeting between the
rivals was arranged out of the Mongo’s hearing; when, throwing off their waist-cloths,
the controversy was settled between the female gladiators without much damage. But,
now and then, the matter was not left to the ladies. The sable lovers themselves took
up the conflict, and a regular challenge passed between the gay Othellos.
At the appointed time, the duellists appeared upon “the field of honor” accompanied
by friends who were to witness their victory or sympathize in their defeat. Each
stalwart savage leaped into the arena, armed with a cow-hide cat, whose sharp and
triple thongs were capable of inflicting the harshest blows. They stripped, and tossed
three cowries into the air to determine which of the two should receive the first
lashing. The unfortunate loser immediately took his stand, and received, with the
firmness of a martyr, the allotted number of blows. Then came the turn of the whipper,
who, with equal constancy, offered his back to the scourge of the enraged sufferer.
Thus they alternated until one gave in, or until the bystanders decreed victory to him
who bore the punishment longest without wincing. The flayed backs of these
“chivalrous men of honor” were ever after displayed in token of bravery; and,
doubtless, their Dulcineas devoted to their healing the subtlest ointment and tenderest
affection recognized among Africans.

CHAPTER IX.
My business habits and systematic devotion to the Mongo’s interests soon made me
familiar with the broad features of “country trade;” but as I was still unable to speak
the coast dialects, Mr. Ormond—who rarely entered the warehouse or conversed about
commerce—supplied an adroit interpreter, who stood beside me and assisted in the
retail of foreign merchandise, for rice, ivory, palm-oil, and domestic provisions. The
purchase of slaves and gold was conducted exclusively by the Mongo, who did not
consider me sufficiently initiated in native character and tricks to receive so delicate a
trust.

Long and dreary were the days and nights of the apparently interminable “wet
season.” Rain in a city, rain in the country, rain in a village, rain at sea, are sufficiently
wearying, even to those whose mental activity is amused or occupied by books or the
concerns of life; but who can comprehend the insufferable lassitude and despondency
that overwhelm an African resident, as he lies on his mat-covered arm-chest, and
listens to the endless deluge pouring for days, weeks, months, upon his leaky thatch?
At last, however, the season of rain passed by, and the “dry season” set in. This was
the epoch for the arrival of caravans from the interior; so that we were not surprised
when our runners appeared, with news that Ahmah-de-Bellah, son of a noted Fullah
chief, was about to visit the Rio Pongo with an imposing train of followers and
merchandise. The only means of communication with the interior of Africa are, for
short distances, by rivers, and, for longer ones, by “paths” or “trails” leading through
the dense forest and among the hills, to innumerable “towns” that stud this prolific
land. Stephenson and McAdam have not been to Africa, and there are neither
turnpikes nor railways. Now, when the coast-traders of the west are apprised that
caravans are threading their way towards the Atlantic shores, it is always thought
advisable to make suitable preparations for the chiefs, and especially to greet them by
messages, before their arrival at the beach. Accordingly, “barkers” are sent forth on
the forest “paths” to welcome the visitors with gifts of tobacco and powder. “Barkers”
are colored gentlemen, with fluent tongues and flexible consciences, always in the
train of factories on the coast, who hasten to the wilderness at the first signal of a
caravan’s approach, and magnify the prosperity and merchandise of their patrons with
as much zeal and veracity as the “drummers” of more Christian lands.

A few days after our band of travelling agents had departed on their mission, the crack
of fire-arms was heard from the hills in our rear, signifying that the Mongo’s
“barkers” had been successful with the caravan in tow. A prompt response to the
joyous signal was made by our cannons; so that, after half an hour’s firing, Ahmah-de-
Bellah and his party emerged from the smoke, marshalled by our band of singers, who
preceded him, chanting with loud voices the praise of the youthful chieftain. Behind
the master came the principal traders and their slaves laden with produce, and
followed by forty captive negroes, secured by bamboo withes. These were succeeded
by three-score bullocks, a large flock of sheep or goats, and the females of the party;
while the procession was closed by the demure tread of a tame and stately Ostrich!
It was the first time I had seen so odd an assemblage of beasts and humanity. Indeed,
had the troupe been accompanied by a bevy of ourang-outangs, I confess I might, at
times, have had difficulty in deciding the grade of animal life to which the object in
front of me belonged.
Mr. Ormond, when put upon his mettle, was one of the ablest traders in Africa, and
received the Mahometan strangers with becoming state. He awaited Ahmah-de-Bellah
and his committee of head-traders on the piazza of his receiving-house, which was a
rather stately edifice, one hundred and fifty feet in length, built to be fire-proof for the
protection of our stores. When each Fullah stranger was presented, he shook hands
and “snapped fingers” with the Mongo several times; and, as every petty peddler in
the train wanted to salaam, the “white man for good luck,” the process of presentation
occupied at least an hour.
According to coast custom, as soon as these compliments were over, the caravan’s
merchandise was deposited within our walls, not only for security, but in order that we
might gauge the value of the welcome the owners were entitled to receive. This
precaution, though ungallant, is extremely necessary, inasmuch as many of the interior
dealers were in the habit of declaring, on arrival, the value of their gold and ivory to
be much greater than it was in fact, in order to receive a more liberal “present.” Even
savages instinctively acquire the tricks of trade!
When the goods were stored, a couple of fat bullocks, with an abundant supply of rice,
were given to the visitors, and the chiefs of the caravan were billeted upon our
townspeople. The canaille built temporary huts for themselves in the outskirts; while
Ahmah-de-Bellah, a strict Mahometan, accompanied by two of his wives, was
furnished with a pair of neat houses that had been hastily fitted up with new and
elegant mats.[A]
While the merchandise of these large caravans is unpaid for, their owners, by the
custom of the country, remain a costly burden upon the factories. We were naturally
anxious to be free from this expense as soon as possible, and gave notice next
morning that “trade would begin forthwith.” Ahmah-de-Bellah, the chiefs of the

caravans, and Mr. Ormond, at once entered into negotiations, so that by nightfall a
bargain had been struck, not only for their presents, but for the price of merchandise,
and the percentage to be retained as “native duty.” Such a preliminary liquidation with
the heads of a caravan is ever indispensable, for, without their assistance, it would be
out of the question to traffic with the ragamuffins who hang on the skirts of opulent
chieftains.
Each morning, at daylight, a crier went through the town, announcing the character of
the specific trade which would be carried on during hours of business. One day it was
in hides; another, rice; another, cattle. When these were disposed of, a time was
specially appointed for the exchange of gold, ivory and slaves; and, at the agreed hour,
Mr. Ormond, Ahmah-de-Bellah, and myself, locked the doors of the warehouse, and
traded through a window, while our “barkers” distributed the goods to the Africans,
often using their whips to keep the chattering and disputatious scamps in order.
Ahmah-de-Bellah pretended to inspect the measurement of cloth, powder and tobacco,
to insure justice to his compatriots; but, in reality, like a true tax-gatherer, he was busy
ascertaining his lawful percentage on the sale, in return for the protection from
robbery he gave the petty traders on their pilgrimage to the coast.
At length the market was cleared of sellers and merchandise—except the ostrich,
which, when all was over, reached the Mongo’s hands as a royal gift from the Ali-
Mami of Footha-Yallon, the pious father of Ahmah-de-Bellah. The bird, it is true, was
presented as a free offering; yet it was hinted that the worthy Ali stood in need of
reliable muskets, which his son would take charge of on the journey home. As twenty
of those warlike instruments were dispatched by Ahmah-de-Bellah, the ostrich became
rather a costly as well as characteristic gift. Each of the traders, moreover, expected a
“bungee” or “dash” of some sort, in token of good will, and in proportion to his sales;
so that we hastened to comply with all the common-law customs of the country, in
order to liberate Bangalang from the annoying crowd. They dropped off rapidly as
they were paid; and in a short time Ahmah-de-Bellah, his wives, and immediate
followers, were all that remained of the seven hundred Fullahs.
Ahmah-de-Bellah was a fine specimen of what may be considered “Young Africa,”
though he can hardly be classed among the progressives or revolutionary
propagandists of the age. In person he was tall, graceful, and commanding. As the son
of an important chief, he had been free from those menial toils which, in that climate,
soon obliterate all intellectual characteristics. His face was well formed for an
African’s. His high and broad brow arched over a straight nose, while his lips had
nothing of that vulgar grossness which gives so sensual an expression to his
countrymen. Ahmah’s manners to strangers or superiors were refined and courteous in
a remarkable degree; but to the mob of the coast and inferiors generally, he manifested
that harsh and peremptory tone which is common among the savages of a fiery clime.

Ahmah-de-Bellah was second son of the Ali-Mami, or King of Footha-Yallon, who
allowed him to exercise the prerogative of leading for the first time, a caravan to the
seaboard, in honor of attaining the discreet age of “twenty four rainy seasons.” The
privilege however, was not granted without a view to profit by the courage of his own
blood; for the Ali-Mami was never known to suffer a son or relative to depart from his
jurisdiction without a promise of half the products of the lucrative enterprise.
The formation of a caravan, when the king’s permission has been finally secured, is a
work of time and skill. At the beginning of the “dry season,” the privileged chieftain
departs with power of life and death over his followers, and “squats” in one of the
most frequented “paths” to the sea, while he dispatches small bands of daring retainers
to other trails throughout the neighborhood, to blockade every passage to the beach.
The siege of the highways is kept up with vigor for a month or more, by these black
Rob Roys and Robin Hoods, until a sufficient number of traders may be trapped to
constitute a valuable caravan, and give importance to its leader. While this is the main
purpose of the forest adventure, the occasion is taken advantage of to collect a local
tribute, due by small tribes to the Ali, which could not be obtained otherwise. The
despotic officer, moreover, avails himself of the blockade to stop malefactors and
absconding debtors. Goods that are seized in the possession of the latter may be
sequestrated to pay his creditors; but if their value is not equal to the debt, the
delinquent, if a pagan, is sold as a slave, but is let off with a bastinado, if he proves to
be “one of the faithful.”
It is natural to suppose that every effort is made by the small traders of the interior to
avoid these savage press-gangs. The poor wretches are not only subjected to annoying
vassalage by ruffian princes, but the blockade of the forest often diverts them from the
point they originally designed to reach,—forces them to towns or factories they had
no intention of visiting,—and, by extreme delay, wastes their provisions and
diminishes their frugal profits. It is surprising to see how admirably even savages
understand and exercise the powers of sovereignty and the rights of transit!

While Ahmah-de-Bellah tarried at Bangalang, it was my habit to visit him every night
to hear his interesting chat, as it was translated by an interpreter. Sometimes, in return,
I would recount the adventures of my sea-faring life, which seemed to have a peculiar
flavor for this child of the wilderness, who now gazed for the first time on the ocean.
Among other things, I strove to convince him of the world’s rotundity; but, to the last,
he smiled incredulously at my daring assertion, and closed the argument by asking me
to prove it from the Koran? He allowed me the honors due a traveller and “book-
man;” but a mind that had swallowed, digested, and remembered every text of
Mahomet’s volume, was not to be deceived by such idle fantasies. He kindly

undertook to conquer my ignorance of his creed by a careful exposition of its
mysteries in several long-winded lectures, and I was so patient a listener, that I believe
Ahmah was entirely satisfied of my conversion.
My seeming acquiescence was well repaid by the Fullah’s confidence. He returned my
nightly calls with interest; and, visiting me in the warehouse during hours of business,
became so fervently wrapped up in my spiritual salvation, that he would spout
Mahometanism for hours through an interpreter. To get rid of him, one day, I promised
to follow the Prophet with pleasure if he consented to receive me; but I insisted on
entering the “fold of the faithful” without submitting to the peculiar rite of Mussulman
baptism!
Ahmah-de-Bellah took the jest kindly, laughing like a good fellow, and from that day
forward, we were sworn cronies. The Fullah at once wrote down a favorite prayer in
Arabic, requiring as my spiritual guide, that I should commit it to memory for
constant and ready use. After a day or two, he examined me in the ritual; but, finding I
was at fault after the first sentence, reproached me pathetically upon my negligence
and exhorted me to repentance,—much to the edification of our interpreter, who was
neither Jew, Christian, nor Mussulman.
But the visit of the young chieftain, which began in trade and tapered off in piety,
drew to a close. Ahmah-de-Bellah began to prepare for his journey homeward. As the
day of departure approached, I saw that my joke had been taken seriously by the
Fullah, and that he relied upon my apostasy. At the last moment, Ahmah tried to put
me to a severe test, by suddenly producing the holy book, and requiring me to seal our
friendship by an oath that I would never abandon Islamism. I contrived, however,
adroitly to evade the affirmation by feigning an excessive anxiety to acquire more
profound knowledge of the Koran, before I made so solemn a pledge.

It came to pass that, out of the forty slaves brought in the caravan, the Mongo rejected
eight. After some altercation, Ahmah-de-Bellah consented to discard seven; but he
insisted that the remaining veteran should be shipped, as he could neither kill nor send
him back to Footha-Yallon.
I was somewhat curious to know the crime this culprit had committed, which was so
heinous as to demand his perpetual exile, though it spared his life. The chief informed
me that the wretch had slain his son; and, as there was no punishment for such an
offence assigned by the Koran, the judges of his country condemned him to be sold a
slave to Christians,—a penalty they considered worse than death.

Another curious feature of African law was developed in the sale of this caravan. I
noticed a couple of women drawn along with ropes around their necks, while others of
their sex and class were suffered to wander about without bonds. These females, the
chief apprised us, would have been burnt in his father’s domains for witchcraft, had
not his venerable ancestor been so much distressed for powder that he thought their
lives would be more valuable to his treasury than their carcasses to outraged law.
It was a general complaint among the companions of Ahmah-de-Bellah that the
caravan was scant of slaves in consequence of this unfortunate lack of powder. The
young chieftain promised better things in future. Next year, the Mongo’s barracoons
should teem with his conquests. When the “rainy season” approached, the Ali-Mami,
his father, meant to carry on a “great war” against a variety of small tribes, whose
captives would replenish the herds, that, two years before, had been carried off by a
sudden blight.
I learned from my intelligent Fullah, that while the Mahometan courts of his country
rescued by law the people of their own faith from slavery, they omitted no occasion to
inflict it, as a penalty, upon the African “unbelievers” who fell within their
jurisdiction. Among these unfortunates, the smallest crime is considered capital, and a
“capital crime” merits the profitable punishment of slavery. Nor was it difficult, he
told me, for a country of “true believers” to acquire a multitude of bondsmen. They
detested the institution, it is true, among themselves, and among their own caste, but it
was both right and reputable among the unorthodox. The Koran commanded the
“subjugation of the tribes to the true faith,” so that, to enforce the Prophet’s order
against infidels, they resorted to the white man’s cupidity, which authorized its
votaries to enslave the negro! My inquisitiveness prompted me to demand whether
these holy wars spoken of in the Koran were not somewhat stimulated, in our time, at
least, by the profits that ensued; and I even ventured to hint that it was questionable
whether the mighty chief of Footha-Yallon would willingly storm a Kaffir
fortification, were he not prompted by the booty of slaves!
Ahmah-de-Bellah was silent for a minute, when his solemn face gradually relaxed into
a quizzical smile, as he replied that, in truth, Mahometans were no worse than
Christians, so that it was quite likely,—if the white elect of heaven, who knew how to
make powder and guns, did not tempt the black man with their weapons,—the
commands of Allah would be followed with less zeal, and implements not quite so
dangerous!
I could not help thinking that there was a good deal of quiet satire in the gossip of this
negro prince. According to the custom of his country, we “exchanged names” at
parting; and, while he put in my pocket the gift of a well-thumbed Koran, I slung over
his shoulder a double-barrelled gun. We walked side by side for some miles into the
forest, as he went forth from Bangalang; and as we “cracked fingers” for farewell, I

promised, with my hand on my heart, that the “next dry season” I would visit his
father, the venerable Ali-Mami, in his realm of Footha-Yallon.

FOOTNOTE:
[A] As it may be interesting to learn the nature of trade on this coast,—which is commonly
misunderstood at consisting in slaves alone,—I thought it well to set down the inventory I
made out of the caravan’s stock and its result, as the various items were intrusted to my
guardianship. The body of the caravan itself consisted of seven hundred persons, principally
men; while the produce was as follows:

3,500 hides $1,750
19 large and prime teeth of ivory, 1,560
Gold, 2,500
600 pounds small ivory, 320
15 tons of rice, 600
40 slaves, 1,600
36 bullocks, 360
Sheep, goats, butter, vegetables, 100
900 pounds bees-wax, 95
Total value of the caravan’s merchandise, $8,885

Our profits on this speculation were very flattering, both as regards sales and acquisitions.
Rice cost us one cent per pound; hides were delivered at eighteen or twenty cents each; a
bullock was sold for twenty or thirty pounds of tobacco; sheep, goats or hogs, cost two
pounds of tobacco, or a fathom of common cotton, each; ivory was purchased at the rate of
a dollar the pound for the best, while inferior kinds were given at half that price. In fact, the
profit on our merchandise was, at least, one hundred and fifty per cent. As gold commands
the very best fabrics in exchange, and was paid for at the rate of sixteen dollars an ounce,
we made but seventy per cent. on the article. The slaves were delivered at the rate of one
hundred “bars” each. The “bar” is valued on the coast at half a dollar; but a pound and a
half of tobacco is also a “bar,” as well as a fathom of ordinary cotton cloth, or a pound of
powder, while a common musket is equal to twelve “bars.” Accordingly, where slaves were
purchased for one hundred and fifty pounds of tobacco, only eighteen dollars were, in
reality, paid; and when one hundred pounds of powder were given, we got them for twenty
dollars each. Our British muskets cost us but three dollars apiece; yet we seldom purchased
negroes for this article alone. If the women, offered in the market, exceeded twenty-five
years of age, we made a deduction of twenty per cent.; but if they were stanchly-built, and
gave promising tokens for the future, we took them at the price of an able-bodied man. The
same estimate was made for youths over four feet four inches high; but children were rarely
purchased at the factories, though they might be advantageously traded in the native towns.

CHAPTER X.
I was a close watcher of Mongo John whenever he engaged in the purchase of slaves.
As each negro was brought before him, Ormond examined the subject, without regard
to sex, from head to foot. A careful manipulation of the chief muscles, joints, arm-pits
and groins was made, to assure soundness. The mouth, too, was inspected, and if a
tooth was missing, it was noted as a defect liable to deduction. Eyes, voice, lungs,
fingers and toes were not forgotten; so that when the negro passed from the Mongo’s
hands without censure, he might have been readily adopted as a good “life” by an
insurance company.
Upon one occasion, to my great astonishment, I saw a stout and apparently powerful
man discarded by Ormond as utterly worthless. His full muscles and sleek skin, to my
unpractised eye, denoted the height of robust health. Still, I was told that he had been
medicated for the market with bloating drugs, and sweated with powder and lemon-
juice to impart a gloss to his skin. Ormond remarked that these jockey-tricks are as
common in Africa as among horse-dealers in Christian lands; and desiring me to feel
the negro’s pulse, I immediately detected disease or excessive excitement. In a few
days I found the poor wretch, abandoned by his owner, a paralyzed wreck in the hut of
a villager at Bangalang.

INSPECTION AND SALE OF A NEGRO.
When a slave becomes useless to his master in the interior, or exhibits signs of failing
constitution, he is soon disposed of to a peddler or broker. These men call to their aid
a quack, familiar with drugs, who, for a small compensation, undertakes to refit an
impaired body for the temptation of green-horns. Sometimes the cheat is successfully
effected; but experienced slavers detect it readily by the yellow eye, swollen tongue,
and feverish skin.
After a few more lessons, I was considered by the Mongo sufficiently learned in the
slave traffic to be intrusted with the sole management of his stores. This exemption
from commerce enabled him to indulge more than ever in the use of ardent spirits,
though his vanity to be called “king,” still prompted him to attend faithfully to all the
“country palavers;”—and, let it be said to his credit, his decisions were never
defective in judgment or impartiality.
After I had been three months occupied in the multifarious intercourse of Bangalang
and its neighborhood, I understood the language well enough to dispense with the
interpreter, who was one of the Mongo’s confidential agents. When my companion
departed on a long journey, he counselled me to make up with Unga-golah, the

harem’s Cerberus, as she suspected my intimacy with Esther, who would doubtless be
denounced to Ormond, unless I purchased the beldame’s silence.
Indeed, ever since the night of warning, when the beautiful quarteroon visited my
hovel, I had contrived to meet this charming girl, as the only solace of my solitude.
Amid all the wild, passionate, and savage surroundings of Bangalang, Esther—the
Pariah—was the only golden link that still seemed to bind me to humanity and the
lands beyond the seas. On that burning coast, I was not excited by the stirring of an
adventurous life, nor was my young heart seduced and bewildered by absorbing
avarice. Many a night, when the dews penetrated my flesh, as I looked towards the
west, my soul shrank from the selfish wretches around me, and went off in dreams to
the homes I had abandoned. When I came back to myself,—when I was forced to
recognize my doom in Africa,—when I acknowledged that my lot had been cast,
perhaps unwisely, by myself, my spirit turned, like the worm from the crashing heel,
and found nothing that kindled for me with the light of human sympathy, save this
outcast girl. Esther was to me as a sister, and when the hint of her harm or loss was
given, I hastened to disarm the only hand that could inflict a blow. Unga-golah was a
woman, and a rope of sparkling coral for her neck, smothered all her wrongs.
The months I had passed in Africa without illness,—though I went abroad after dark,
and bathed in the river during the heat of the day,—made me believe myself proof
against malaria. But, at length, a violent pain in my loins, accompanied by a
swimming head, warned me that the African fever held me in its dreaded gripe. In two
days I was delirious. Ormond visited me; but I knew him not, and in my madness,
called on Esther, accompanying the name with terms of endearment. This, I was told,
stirred the surprise and jealousy of the Mongo, who forthwith assailed the matron of
his harem with a torrent of inquiries and abuse. But Unga-golah was faithful. The
beads had sealed her tongue; so that, with the instinctive adroitness peculiar to ladies
of her color, she fabricated a story which not only quieted the Mongo, but added lustre
to Esther’s character.
The credulous old man finding Unga so well disposed towards his watchful clerk,
restored the warehouse to her custody. This was the height of her avaricious ambition;
and, in token of gratitude for my profitable malady, she contrived to let Esther become
the nurse and guardian of my sick bed.
As my fever and delirium continued, a native doctor, renowned for his skill, was
summoned, who ordered me to be cupped in the African fashion by scarifying my
back and stomach with a hot knife, and applying plantain leaves to the wounds. The
operation allayed my pulse for a few hours; but as the fever came back with new
vigor, it became necessary for my attendants to arouse the Mongo to a sense of my
imminent danger. Yet Ormond, instead of springing with alacrity to succor a friend
and retainer in affliction, sent for a young man, named Edward Joseph, who had

formerly been in his employment, but was now settled on his own account in
Bangalang.
Joseph proved a good Samaritan. As soon as he dared venture upon my removal, he
took me to his establishment at Kambia, and engaged the services of another
Mandingo doctor, in whose absurdities he believed. But all the charms and
incantations of the savage would not avail, and I remained in a state of utter
prostration and apparent insensibility until morning. As soon as day dawned, my
faithful Esther was again on the field of action; and this time she insisted upon the
trial of her judgment, in the person of an old white-headed woman, who accompanied
her in the guise of the greatest enchantress of the coast. A slave, paid in advance, was
the fee for which she undertook to warrant my cure.
No time was to be lost. The floor of a small and close mud hut was intensely heated,
and thickly strewn with moistened lemon leaves, over which a cloth was spread for a
couch. As soon as the bed was ready, I was borne to the hovel, and, covered with
blankets, was allowed to steam and perspire, while my medical attendant dosed me
with half a tumbler of a green disgusting juice which she extracted from herbs. This
process of drinking and barbecuing was repeated during five consecutive days, at the
end of which my fever was gone. But my convalescence was not speedy. For many a
day, I stalked about, a useless skeleton, covering with ague, and afflicted by an
insatiable appetite, until a French physician restored me to health by the use of cold
baths at the crisis of my fever.
When I was sufficiently recovered to attend to business, Mongo John desired me to
resume my position in his employment. I heard, however, from Esther, that during my
illness, Unga-golah used her opportunities so profitably in the warehouse, that there
would be sad deficiencies, which, doubtless, might be thrown on me, if the crone were
badly disposed at any future period. Accordingly, I thought it decidedly most prudent
to decline the clerkship, and requested the Mongo to recompense me for the time and
attention I had already bestowed on him. This was refused by the indolent voluptuary;
so we parted with coolness, and I was once more adrift in the world.
In these great outlying colonies and lodgments of European nations in the East Indies
and Africa, a stranger is commonly welcome to the hospitality of every foreigner. I
had no hesitation, therefore, in returning to the house of Joseph, who, like myself, had
been a clerk of Ormond, and suffered from the pilferings of the matron.
My host, I understood, was a native of London, where he was born of continental
parents, and came to Sierra Leone with Governor Turner. Upon the death or return of
that officer,—I do not recollect which,—the young adventurer remained in the colony,
and, for a time, enjoyed the post of harbor master. His first visit to the Rio Pongo was
in the capacity of supercargo of a small coasting craft, laden with valuable
merchandise. Joseph succeeded in disposing of his wares, but was not equally

fortunate in collecting their avails. It was, perhaps, an ill-judged act of the supercargo,
but he declined to face his creditors with a deficient balance-sheet; and quitting Sierra
Leone for ever, accepted service with Ormond. For a year he continued in this
employment; but, at the end of that period, considering himself sufficiently informed
of the trade and language of the river, he sent a message to his creditors at the British
settlement that he could promptly pay them in full, if they would advance him capital
enough to commence an independent trade. The terms were accepted by an opulent
Israelite, and in a short time Edward Joseph was numbered among the successful
factors of Rio Pongo.
As I had nothing to do but get well and talk, I employed my entire leisure in acquiring
the native language perfectly. The Soosoo is a dialect of the Mandingo. Its words,
ending almost universally in vowels, render it as glibly soft and musical as Italian; so
that, in a short time, I spoke it as fluently as my native tongue.

CHAPTER XI.
The 15th of March, 1827, was an epoch in my life. I remember it well, because it
became the turning point of my destiny. A few weeks more of indolence might have
forced me back to Europe or America, but the fortune of that day decided my
residence and dealings in Africa.
At dawn of the 15th, a vessel was descried in the offing, and, as she approached the
coast, the initiated soon ascertained her to be a Spanish slaver. But, what was the
amazement of the river grandees when the captain landed and consigned his vessel to
me!
“La Fortuna,” the property, chiefly, of my old friend the Regla grocer, was successor
of the Areostatico, which she exceeded in size as well as comfort. Her captain was
charged to pay me my wages in full for the round voyage in the craft I had abandoned,
and handed me, besides, a purse of thirty doubloons as a testimonial from his owners
for my defence of their property on the dreadful night of our arrival. The “Fortuna”
was dispatched to me for an “assorted cargo of slaves,” while 200,000 cigars and 500
ounces of Mexican gold, were on board for their purchase. My commission was fixed
at ten per cent., and I was promised a command whenever I saw fit to abandon my
residence on the African coast.
Having no factory, or barracoon of slaves, and being elevated to the dignity of “a
trader” in so sudden a manner, I thought it best to summon all the factors of the river
on board the schooner, with an offer to divide the cargo, provided they would pledge
the production of the slaves within thirty days. Dispatch was all-important to the
owners, and, so anxious was I to gratify them, that I consented to pay fifty dollars for
every slave that should be accepted.
After some discussion my offer was taken, and the cargo apportioned among the
residents. They declined, however, receiving any share of the cigars in payment,
insisting on liquidation in gold alone.
As this was my first enterprise, I felt at a loss to know how to convert my useless
tobacco into merchantable doubloons. In this strait, I had recourse to the Englishman
Joseph, who hitherto traded exclusively in produce; but, being unable to withstand the
temptation of gold, had consented to furnish a portion of my required negroes. As
soon as I stated the difficulty to Don Edward, he proposed to send the Havanas to his
Hebrew friend in Sierra Leone, where, he did not doubt, they would be readily
exchanged for Manchester merchandise. That evening a canoe was dispatched to the
English colony with the cigars; and, on the tenth day after, the trusty Israelite appeared

in the Rio Pongo, with a cutter laden to the deck with superior British fabrics. The
rumor of five hundred doubloons disturbed his rest in Sierra Leone! So much gold
could not linger in the hands of natives as long as Manchester and Birmingham were
represented in the colony; and, accordingly, he coasted the edge of the surf, as rapidly
as possible, to pay me a profit of four dollars a thousand for the cigars, and to take his
chances at the exchange of my gold for the sable cargo! By this happy hit I was
enabled to pay for the required balance of negroes, as well as to liquidate the
schooners expenses while in the river. I was amazingly rejoiced and proud at this
happy result, because I learned from the captain that the invoice of cigars was a
malicious trick, palmed off on the Areostatico’s owners by her captain, in order to
thwart or embarrass me, when he heard I was to be intrusted with the purchase of a
cargo on the coast.
At the appointed day, La Fortuna sailed with 220 human beings packed in her hold.
Three months afterwards, I received advices that she safely landed 217 in the bay of
Matanzas, and that their sale yielded a clear profit on the voyage of forty-one
thousand four hundred and thirty-eight dollars.[B]
As I am now fairly embarked in a trade which absorbed so many of my most vigorous
years, I suppose the reader will not be loth to learn a little of my experience in the
alleged “cruelties” of this commerce; and the first question, in all likelihood, that rises
to his lips, is a solicitation to be apprised of the embarkation and treatment of slaves
on the dreaded voyage.
An African factor of fair repute is ever careful to select his human cargo with
consummate prudence, so as not only to supply his employers with athletic laborers,
but to avoid any taint of disease that may affect the slaves in their transit to Cuba or
the American main. Two days before embarkation, the head of every male and female
is neatly shaved; and, if the cargo belongs to several owners, each man’s brand is
impressed on the body of his respective negro. This operation is performed with
pieces of silver wire, or small irons fashioned into the merchant’s initials, heated just
hot enough to blister without burning the skin. When the entire cargo is the venture of
but one proprietor, the branding is always dispensed with.
On the appointed day, the barracoon or slave-pen is made joyous by the abundant
“feed” which signalizes the negro’s last hours in his native country. The feast over,
they are taken alongside the vessel in canoes; and as they touch the deck, they are
entirely stripped, so that women as well as men go out of Africa as they came into it—
naked. This precaution, it will be understood, is indispensable; for perfect nudity,
during the whole voyage, is the only means of securing cleanliness and health. In this
state, they are immediately ordered below, the men to the hold and the women to the
cabin, while boys and girls are, day and night, kept on deck, where their sole
protection from the elements is a sail in fair weather, and a tarpaulin in foul.

At meal time they are distributed in messes of ten. Thirty years ago, when the Spanish
slave-trade was lawful, the captains were somewhat more ceremoniously religious
than at present, and it was then a universal habit to make the gangs say grace before
meat, and give thanks afterwards. In our days, however, they dispense with this ritual,
and content themselves with a “Viva la Habana,” or “hurrah for Havana,”
accompanied by a clapping of hands.
This over, a bucket of salt water is served to each mess, by way of “finger glasses” for
the ablution of hands, after which a kidd,—either of rice, farina, yams, or beans,—
according to the tribal habit of the negroes, is placed before the squad. In order to
prevent greediness or inequality in the appropriation of nourishment, the process is
performed by signals from a monitor, whose motions indicate when the darkies shall
dip and when they shall swallow.
It is the duty of a guard to report immediately whenever a slave refuses to eat, in order
that his abstinence may be traced to stubbornness or disease. Negroes have sometimes
been found in slavers who attempted voluntary starvation; so that, when the watch
reports the patient to be “shamming,” his appetite is stimulated by the medical
antidote of a “cat.” If the slave, however, is truly ill, he is forthwith ticketed for the
sick list by a bead or button around his neck, and dispatched to an infirmary in the
forecastle.
These meals occur twice daily,—at ten in the morning and four in the afternoon,—and
are terminated by another ablution. Thrice in each twenty-four hours they are served
with half a pint of water. Pipes and tobacco are circulated economically among both
sexes; but, as each negro cannot be allowed the luxury of a separate bowl, boys are
sent round with an adequate supply, allowing a few whiffs to each individual. On
regular days,—probably three times a week,—their mouths are carefully rinsed with
vinegar, while, nearly every morning, a dram is given as an antidote to scurvy.
Although it is found necessary to keep the sexes apart, they are allowed to converse
freely during day while on deck. Corporal punishment is never inflicted save by order
of an officer, and, even then, not until the culprit understands exactly why it is done.
Once a week, the ship’s barber scrapes their chins without assistance from soap; and,
on the same day, their nails are closely pared, to insure security from harm in those
nightly battles that occur, when the slave contests with his neighbor every inch of
plank to which he is glued. During afternoons of serene weather, men, women, girls,
and boys are allowed to unite in African melodies, which they always enhance by an
extemporaneous tom-tom on the bottom of a tub or tin kettle.
These hints will apprise the reader that the greatest care, compatible with safety, is
taken of a negro’s health and cleanliness on the voyage. In every well-conducted
slaver, the captain, officers, and crew, are alert and vigilant to preserve the cargo. It is
their personal interest, as well as the interest of humanity to do so. The boatswain is

incessant in his patrol of purification, and disinfecting substances are plenteously
distributed. The upper deck is washed and swabbed daily; the slave deck is scraped
and holy-stoned; and, at nine o’clock each morning, the captain inspects every part of
his craft; so that no vessel, except a man-of-war, can compare with a slaver in
systematic order, purity, and neatness. I am not aware that the ship-fever, which
sometimes decimates the emigrants from Europe, has ever prevailed in these African
traders.
At sundown, the process of stowing the slaves for the night is begun. The second mate
and boatswain descend into the hold, whip in hand, and range the slaves in their
regular places; those on the right side of the vessel facing forward, and lying in each
other’s lap, while those on the left are similarly stowed with their faces towards the
stern. In this way each negro lies on his right side, which is considered preferable for
the action of the heart. In allotting places, particular attention is paid to size, the taller
being selected for the greatest breadth of the vessel, while the shorter and younger are
lodged near the bows. When the cargo is large and the lower deck crammed, the
supernumeraries are disposed of on deck, which is securely covered with boards to
shield them from moisture. The strict discipline of nightly stowage is, of course, of the
greatest importance in slavers, else every negro would accommodate himself as if he
were a passenger.
In order to insure perfect silence and regularity during night, a slave is chosen as
constable from every ten, and furnished with a “cat” to enforce commands during his
appointed watch. In remuneration for his services, which, it may be believed, are
admirably performed whenever the whip is required, he is adorned with an old shirt or
tarry trowsers. Now and then, billets of wood are distributed among the sleepers, but
this luxury is never granted until the good temper of the negroes is ascertained, for
slaves have often been tempted to mutiny by the power of arming themselves with
these pillows from the forest.
It is very probable that many of my readers will consider it barbarous to make slaves
lie down naked upon a board, but let me inform them that native Africans are not
familiar with the use of feather-beds, nor do any but the free and rich in their mother
country indulge in the luxury even of a mat or raw-hide. Among the Mandingo chiefs,
—the most industrious and civilized of Africans,—the beds, divans, and sofas, are
heaps of mud, covered with untanned skins for cushions, while logs of wood serve for
bolsters! I am of opinion, therefore, that emigrant slaves experience very slight
inconvenience in lying down on the deck.
But ventilation is carefully attended to. The hatches and bulkheads of every slaver are
grated, and apertures are cut about the deck for ampler circulation of air. Wind-sails,
too, are constantly pouring a steady draft into the hold, except during a chase, when,
of course, every comfort is temporarily sacrificed for safety. During calms or in light

and baffling winds, when the suffocating air of the tropics makes ventilation
impossible, the gratings are always removed, and portions of the slaves allowed to
repose at night on deck, while the crew is armed to watch the sleepers.
Handcuffs are rarely used on shipboard. It is the common custom to secure slaves in
the barracoons, and while shipping, by chaining ten in a gang; but as these platoons
would be extremely inconvenient at sea, the manacles are immediately taken off and
replaced by leg-irons, which fasten them in pairs by the feet. Shackles are never used
but for full-grown men, while women and boys are set at liberty as soon as they
embark. It frequently happens that when the behavior of male slaves warrants their
freedom, they are released from all fastenings long before they arrive. Irons are
altogether dispensed with on many Brazilian slavers, as negroes from Anjuda, Benin,
and Angola, are mild; and unaddicted to revolt like those who dwell east of the Cape
or north of the Gold Coast. Indeed, a knowing trader will never use chains but when
compelled, for the longer a slave is ironed the more he deteriorates; and, as his sole
object is to land a healthy cargo, pecuniary interest, as well as natural feeling, urges
the sparing of metal.
My object in writing this palliative description is not to exculpate the slavers or their
commerce, but to correct those exaggerated stories which have so long been current in
regard to the usual voyage of a trader. I have always believed that the cause of
humanity, as well as any other cause, was least served by over-statement; and I am
sure that if the narratives given by Englishmen are true, the voyages they detail must
either have occurred before my day, or were conducted in British vessels, while her
majesty’s subjects still considered the traffic lawful.[C]

FOOTNOTES:
[B] As the reader may scarcely credit so large a profit, I subjoin an account of the fitting of
a slave vessel from Havana in 1827, and the liquidation of her voyage in Cuba:—
1.—Expenses Out.

Cost of La Fortuna, a 90 ton schooner, $3,700 00
Fitting out, sails, carpenter and cooper’s
bills, 2,500 00
Provisions for crew and slaves, 1,115 00
Wages advanced to 18 men before the
mast, 900 00
“ “ to captain, mates,
boatswain, cook, and steward, 440 00
200,000 cigars and 500 doubloons, cargo, 10,900 00
Clearance and hush-money, 200 00
$19,755
00
Commission at 5 per cent., 987 00

$20,742
Full cost of voyage out, 00

2.—Expenses Home.

Captain’s head-money, at $8 a head, 1,746 00
Mate’s “ $4 “ 873 00
Second mate and boatswain’s head-money,
at $2 each a head, 873 00
Captain’s wages, 219 78
First mate’s wages 175 56
Second mate and boatswain’s wages, 307 12
Cook and steward’s wages, 264 00
Eighteen sailors’ wages, 1,972 00
$27,172
46

3.—Expenses in Havana.

Government officers, at $8 per head, 1,736 00
My commission on 217 slaves, expenses
off, 5,565 00
Consignees’ commissions, 8,878 00
217 slave dresses, at $2 each, 634 00
Extra expenses of all kinds, say, 1,000 00
$39,980
Total expenses, 46

4.—Returns.

Value of vessel at auction, $3,950 00
Proceeds of 217 slaves, 77,469 00
$81,419 00

Resumé.

Total Returns, $81,419 00
“ Expenses, 39,980 46
Nett profit, $41,438 54

[C] The treaty with Spain, which was designed by Great Britain to end the slave-trade,
failed utterly to produce the desired result.
All profitable trade,—illicit, contraband, or what not,—will be carried on by avaricious
men, as long as the temptation continues. Accordingly, whenever a trade becomes forced,
the only and sure result of violent restriction is to imperil still more both life and cargo.
1st.—The treaty with Spain, it is said, was enforced some time before it was properly
promulgated or notified; so that British cruisers seized over eighty vessels, one third of
which certainly were not designed for slave-trade.
2d.—As the compact condemned slave vessels to be broken up, the sailing qualities of craft
were improved to facilitate escape, rather than insure human comfort.
3d.—The Spanish slavers had recourse to Brazilians and Portuguese to cover their property;
and, as slavers could not be fitted out in Cuba, other nations sent their vessels ready
equipped to Africa, and (under the jib-booms of cruisers) Sardinians, Frenchmen and

Americans, transferred them to slave traders, while the captains and parts of the crew took
passage home in regular merchantmen.
4th.—As the treaty created greater risk, every method of economy was resorted to; and the
crowding and cramming of slaves was one of the most prominent results. Water and
provisions were diminished; and every thing was sacrificed for gain.

CHAPTER XII.
In old times, before treaties made slave-trade piracy, the landing of human cargoes
was as comfortably conducted as the disembarkation of flour. But now, the enterprise
is effected with secrecy and hazard. A wild, uninhabited portion of the coast, where
some little bay or sheltering nook exists, is commonly selected by the captain and his
confederates. As soon as the vessel is driven close to the beach and anchored, her
boats are packed with slaves, while the craft is quickly dismantled to avoid detection
from sea or land. The busy skiffs are hurried to and fro incessantly till the cargo is
entirely ashore, when the secured gang, led by the captain, and escorted by armed
sailors, is rapidly marched to the nearest plantation. There it is safe from the rapacity
of local magistrates, who, if they have a chance, imitate their superiors by exacting
“gratifications.”
In the mean time, a courier has been dispatched to the owners in Havana, Matanzas,
or Santiago de Cuba, who immediately post to the plantation with clothes for the
slaves and gold for the crew. Preparations are quickly made through brokers for the
sale of the blacks; while the vessel, if small, is disguised, to warrant her return under
the coasting flag to a port of clearance. If the craft happens to be large, it is considered
perilous to attempt a return with a cargo, or “in distress,” and, accordingly, she is
either sunk or burnt where she lies.
When the genuine African reaches a plantation for the first time, he fancies himself in
paradise. He is amazed by the generosity with which he is fed with fruit and fresh
provisions. His new clothes, red cap, and roasting blanket (a civilized superfluity he
never dreamed of), strike him dumb with delight, and, in his savage joy, he not only
forgets country, relations, and friends, but skips about like a monkey, while he dons
his garments wrongside out or hind-part before! The arrival of a carriage or cart
creates no little confusion among the Ethiopian groups, who never imagined that
beasts could be made to work. But the climax of wonder is reached when that paragon
of oddities, a Cuban postilion, dressed in his sky-blue coat, silver-laced hat, white
breeches, polished jack-boots, and ringing spurs, leaps from his prancing quadruped,
and bids them welcome in their mother-tongue. Every African rushes to “snap fingers”
with his equestrian brother, who, according to orders, forthwith preaches an edifying
sermon on the happiness of being a white man’s slave, taking care to jingle his spurs
and crack his whip at the end of every sentence, by way of amen.
Whenever a cargo is owned by several proprietors, each one takes his share at once to
his plantation; but if it is the property of speculators, the blacks are sold to any one
who requires them before removal from the original depot. The sale is, of course,

conducted as rapidly as possible, to forestall the interference of British officials with
the Captain-General.
Many of the Spanish Governors in Cuba have respected treaties, or, at least, promised
to enforce the laws. Squadrons of dragoons and troops of lancers have been paraded
with convenient delay, and ordered to gallop to plantations designated by the
representative of England. It generally happens, however, that when the hunters arrive
the game is gone. Scandal declares that, while brokers are selling the blacks at the
depot, it is not unusual for their owner or his agent to be found knocking at the door of
the Captain-General’s secretary. It is often said that the Captain-General himself is
sometimes present in the sanctuary, and, after a familiar chat about the happy landing
of “the contraband,”—as the traffic is amiably called, the requisite rouleaux are
insinuated into the official desk under the intense smoke of a fragrant cigarillo. The
metal is always considered the property of the Captain-General, but his scribe avails
himself of a lingering farewell at the door, to hint an immediate and pressing need for
“a very small darkey!” Next day, the diminutive African does not appear; but, as it is
believed that Spanish officials prefer gold even to mortal flesh, his algebraic
equivalent is unquestionably furnished in the shape of shining ounces!

The prompt dispatch I gave the schooner Fortuna, started new ideas among the traders
of the Rio Pongo, so that it was generally agreed my method of dividing the cargo
among different factors was not only most advantageous for speed, but prevented
monopoly, and gave all an equal chance. At a “grand palaver” or assemblage of the
traders on the river, it was resolved that this should be the course of trade for the
future. All the factors, except Ormond, attended and assented; but we learned that the
Mongo’s people, with difficulty prevented him from sending an armed party to break
up our deliberations.
The knowledge of this hostile feeling soon spread throughout the settlement and
adjacent towns, creating considerable excitement against Ormond. My plan and
principles were approved by the natives as well as foreigners, so that warning was sent
the Mongo, if any harm befell Joseph and Theodore, it would be promptly resented.
Our native landlord, Ali-Ninpha, a Foulah by descent, told him boldly, in presence of
his people, that the Africans were “tired of a mulatto Mongo;” and, from that day, his
power dwindled away visibly, though a show of respect was kept up in consequence
of his age and ancient importance.
During these troubles, the Areostatico returned to my consignment, and in twenty-two
days was dispatched with a choice cargo of Mandingoes,—a tribe, which had become
fashionable for house servants among the Havanese. But the luckless vessel was never

heard of, and it is likely she went down in some of the dreadful gales that scourged the
coast immediately after her departure.

CHAPTER XIII.
I had now grown to such sudden importance among the natives, that the neighboring
chiefs and kings sent me daily messages of friendship, with trifling gifts that I readily
accepted. One of these bordering lords, more generous and insinuating than the rest,
hinted several times his anxiety for a closer connection in affection as well as trade,
and, at length, insisted upon becoming my father-in-law!
I had always heard in Italy that it was something to receive the hand of a princess,
even after long and tedious wooing; but now that I was surrounded by a mob of kings,
who absolutely thrust their daughters on me, I confess I had the bad taste not to leap
with joy at the royal offering. Still, I was in a difficult position, as no graver offence
can be given a chief than to reject his child. It is so serious an insult to refuse a wife,
that, high born natives, in order to avoid quarrels or war, accept the tender boon, and
as soon as etiquette permits, pass it over to a friend or relation. As the offer was made
to me personally by the king, I found the utmost difficulty in escaping. Indeed, he
would receive no excuse. When I declined on account of the damsel’s youth, he
laughed incredulously. If I urged the feebleness of my health and tardy convalescence,
he insisted that a regular life of matrimony was the best cordial for an impaired
constitution. In fact, the paternal solicitude of his majesty for my doubloons was so
urgent that I was on the point of yielding myself a patient sacrifice, when Joseph came
to my relief with the offer of his hand as a substitute.
The Gordian knot was cut. Prince Yungee in reality did not care so much who should
be his son-in-law as that he obtained one with a white skin and plentiful purse. Joseph
or Theodore, Saxon or Italian, made no difference to the chief; and, as is the case in all
Oriental lands, the opinion of the lady was of no importance whatever.
I cannot say that my partner viewed this matrimonial project with the disgust that I
did. Perhaps he was a man of more liberal philosophy and wider views of human
brotherhood; at any rate, his residence in Africa gave him a taste not only for its
people, habits, and superstitions, but he upheld practical amalgamation with more
fervor and honesty than a regular abolitionist. Joseph was possessed by Africo-mania.
He admired the women, the men, the language, the cookery, the music. He would fall
into philharmonic ecstasies over the discord of a bamboo tom-tom. I have reason to
believe that even African barbarities had charms for the odd Englishman; but he was
chiefly won by the dolce far niente of the natives, and the Oriental license of
polygamy. In a word, Joseph had the same taste for a full-blooded cuffee, that an
epicure has for the haut gout of a stale partridge, and was in ecstasies at my
extrication. He neglected his siestas and his accounts; he wandered from house to

house with the rapture of an impatient bridegroom; and, till every thing was ready for
the nuptial rites, no one at the factory had a moment’s rest.
As the bride’s relations were eminent folks on the upper part of the river, they insisted
that the marriage ceremony should be performed with all the honorable formalities
due to the lady’s rank. Esther, who acted as my mentor in every “country-question,”
suggested that it would be contrary to the Englishman’s interest to ally himself with a
family whose only motive was sordid. She strongly urged that if he persisted in taking
the girl, he should do so without a “colungee” or ceremonial feast. But Joseph was
obstinate as a bull; and as he doubted whether he would ever commit matrimony
again, he insisted that the nuptials should be celebrated with all the fashionable
splendor of high life in Africa.
When this was decided, it became necessary, by a fiction of etiquette, to ignore the
previous offer of the bride, and to begin anew, as if the damsel were to be sought in
the most delicate way by a desponding lover. She must be demanded formally, by the
bridegroom from her reluctant mother; and accordingly, the most respectable matron
in our colony was chosen by Joseph from his colored acquaintances to be the bearer of
his valentine. In the present instance, the selected Cupid was the principal wife of our
native landlord, Ali-Ninpha; and, as Africans as well as Turks love by the pound, the
dame happened to be one of the fattest, as well as most respectable, in our parish.
Several female attachés were added to the suite of the ambassadress, who forthwith
departed to make a proper “dantica.” The gifts selected were of four kinds. First of all,
two demijohns of trade-rum were filled to gladden the community of Mongo-
Yungee’s town. Next, a piece of blue cotton cloth, a musket, a keg of powder, and a
demijohn of pure rum, were packed for papa. Thirdly, a youthful virgin dressed in a
white “tontongee,”[2] a piece of white cotton cloth, a white basin, a white sheep, and a
basket of white rice, were put up for mamma, in token of her daughter’s purity. And,
lastly, a German looking-glass, several bunches of beads, a coral necklace, a dozen of
turkey-red handkerchiefs, and a spotless white country-cloth, were presented to the
bride; together with a decanter of white palm-oil for the anointment of her ebony
limbs after the bath, which is never neglected by African belles.
While the missionary of love was absent, our sighing swain devoted his energies to
the erection of a bridal palace; and the task required just as many days as were
employed in the creation of the world. The building was finished by the aid of
bamboos, straw, and a modicum of mud; and, as Joseph imagined that love and
coolness were secured in such a climate by utter darkness, he provided an abundance
of that commodity by omitting windows entirely. The furnishing of the domicil was
completed with all the luxury of native taste. An elastic four-poster was constructed of
bamboos; some dashing crockery was set about the apartment for display; a cotton
quilt was cast over the matted couch; an old trunk served for bureau and wardrobe;

and, as negresses adore looking-glasses, the largest in our warehouse was nailed
against the door, as the only illuminated part of the edifice.
At last all was complete, and Joseph snapped his fingers with delight, when the
corpulent dame waddled up asthmatically, and announced with a wheeze that her
mission was prosperous. If there had ever been doubt, there was now no more. The
oracular “fetiche” had announced that the delivery of the bride to her lord might take
place “on the tenth day of the new moon.”
As the planet waxed from its slender sickle to the thicker quarter, the impatience of
my Cockney waxed with it; but, at length, the firing of muskets, the twang of horns,
and the rattle of tom-toms, gave notice from the river that Coomba, the bride, was
approaching the quay. Joseph and myself hastily donned our clean shirts, white
trousers, and glistening pumps; and, under the shade of broad sombreros and
umbrellas, proceeded to greet the damsel. Our fat friend, the matron; Ali-Ninpha, her
husband; our servants, and a troop of village ragamuffins, accompanied us to the
water’s brink, so that we were just in time to receive the five large canoes bearing the
escort of the king and his daughter. Boat after boat disgorged its passengers; but, to
our dismay, they ranged themselves apart, and were evidently displeased. When the
last canoe, decorated with flags, containing the bridal party, approached the strand, the
chief of the escort signalled it to stop and forbade the landing.
In a moment there was a general row—a row, conceivable only by residents of Africa,
or those whose ears have been regaled with the chattering of a “wilderness of
monkeys.” Our lusty factotum was astonished. The Cockney aspirated his h’s with
uncommon volubility. We hastened from one to the other to inquire the cause; nor was
it until near half an hour had been wasted in palaver, that I found they considered
themselves slighted, first of all because we had not fired a salvo in their honor, and
secondly because we failed to spread mats from the beach to the house, upon which
the bride might place her virgin feet without defilement! These were indispensable
formalities among the “upper ten;” and the result was that Coomba could not land
unless the etiquette were fulfilled.
Here, then, was a sad dilemma. The guns could be fired instantly;—but where, alas! at
a moment’s notice, were we to obtain mats enough to carpet the five hundred yards of
transit from the river to the house? The match must be broken off!
My crest-fallen cockney immediately began to exculpate himself by pleading
ignorance of the country’s customs,—assuring the strangers that he had not the
slightest inkling of the requirement. Still, the stubborn “master of ceremonies” would
not relax an iota of his rigorous behests.
At length, our bulky dame approached the master of the bridal party, and, squatting on
her knees, confessed her neglectful fault. Then, for the first time, I saw a gleam of

hope. Joseph improved the moment by alleging that he employed this lady patroness
to conduct every thing in the sublimest style imaginable, because it was presumed no
one knew better than she all that was requisite for so admirable and virtuous a lady as
Coomba. Inasmuch, however, as he had been disappointed by her unhappy error, he
did not think the blow should fall on his shoulders. The negligent matron ought to pay
the penalty; and, as it was impossible now to procure the mats, she should forfeit the
value of a slave to aid the merry-making, and carry the bride on her back from the
river to her home!
A clapping of hands and a quick murmur of assent ran through the crowd, telling me
that the compromise was accepted. But the porterage was no sinecure for the
delinquent elephant, who found it difficult at times to get along over African sands
even without a burden. Still, no time was lost in further parley or remonstrance. The
muskets and cannon were brought down and exploded; the royal boat was brought to
the landing; father, mother, brothers, and relations were paraded on the strand; tom-
toms and horns were beaten and blown; and, at last, the suffering missionary waddled
to the canoe to receive the veiled form of the slender bride.
The process of removal was accompanied by much merriment. Our corpulent porter
groaned as she “larded the lean earth” beneath her ponderous tread; but, in due course
of labor and patience, she sank with her charge on the bamboo couch of Master
Joseph.
As soon as the bearer and the burden were relieved from their fatigue, the maiden was
brought to the door, and, as her long concealing veil of spotless cotton was unwrapped
from head and limbs, a shout of admiration went up from the native crowd that
followed us from the quay to the hovel. As Joseph received the hand of Coomba, he
paid the princely fee of a slave to the matron.
Coomba had certainly not numbered more than sixteen years, yet, in that burning
region, the sex ripen long before their pallid sisters of the North. She belonged to the
Soosoo tribe, but was descended from Mandingo ancestors, and I was particularly
struck by the uncommon symmetry of her tapering limbs. Her features and head,
though decidedly African, were not of that coarse and heavy cast that marks the
lineaments of her race. The grain of her shining skin was as fine and polished as
ebony. A melancholy languor subdued and deepened the blackness of her large eyes,
while her small and even teeth gleamed with the brilliant purity of snow. Her mouth
was rosy and even delicate; and, indeed, had not her ankles, feet, and wool,
manifested the unfortunate types of her kindred, Coomba, the daughter of Mongo-
Yungee, might have passed for a chef d’œuvre in black marble.
The scant dress of the damsel enabled me to be so minute in this catalogue of her
charms; and, in truth, had I not inspected them closely, I would have violated
matrimonial etiquette as much as if I failed to admire the trousseau and gifts of a bride

at home. Coomba’s costume was as innocently primitive as Eve’s after the expulsion.
Like all maidens of her country, she had beads round her ankles, beads round her
waist, beads round her neck, while an abundance of bracelets hooped her arms from
wrist to elbow. The white tontongee still girdled her loins; but Coomba’s climate was
her mantuamaker, and indicated more necessity for ornament than drapery.
Accordingly, Coomba was obedient to Nature, and troubled herself very little about a
supply of useless garments, to load the presses and vex the purse of her bridegroom.
As soon as the process of unveiling was over, and time had been allowed the
spectators to behold the damsel, her mother led her gently to the fat ambassadress,
who, with her companions, bore the girl to a bath for ablution, anointment, and
perfuming. While Coomba underwent this ceremony at the hands of our matron,
flocks of sable dames entered the apartment; and, as they withdrew, shook hands with
her mother, in token of the maiden’s purity, and with the groom in compliment to his
luck.
As soon as the bath and oiling were over, six girls issued from the hut, bearing the
glistening bride on a snow-white sheet to the home of her spouse. The transfer was
soon completed, and the burden deposited on the nuptial bed. The dwelling was then
closed and put in charge of sentinels; when the plump plenipotentiary approached the
Anglo-Saxon, and handing him the scant fragments of the bridal dress, pointed to the
door, and, in a loud voice, exclaimed: “White man, this authorizes you to take
possession of your wife!”
It may naturally be supposed that our radiant cockney was somewhat embarrassed by
so public a display of matrimonial happiness, at six o’clock in the afternoon, on the
thirtieth day of a sweltering June. Joseph could not help looking at me with a blush
and a laugh, as he saw the eyes of the whole crowd fixed on his movements; but,
nerving himself like a man, he made a profound salaam to the admiring multitude,
and shaking my hand with a convulsive grip, plunged into the darkness of his abode.
A long pole was forthwith planted before the door, and a slender strip of white cotton,
about the size of a “tontongee,” was hoisted in token of privacy, and floated from the
staff like a pennant, giving notice that the commodore is aboard.
No sooner were these rites over, than the house was surrounded by a swarm of women
from the adjacent villages, whose incessant songs, screams, chatter, and tom-tom
beatings, drowned every mortal sound. Meanwhile, the men of the party—whose
merriment around an enormous bonfire was augmented by abundance of liquor and
provisions—amused themselves in dancing, shouting, yelling, and discharging
muskets in honor of the nuptials.
Such was the ceaseless serenade that drove peace from the lovers’ pillow during the
whole of that memorable night. At dawn, the corpulent matron again appeared from
among the wild and reeling crowd, and concluding her functions by some mysterious

ceremonies, led forth the lank groom from the dark cavity of his hot and sleepless
oven, looking more like a bewildered wretch rescued from drowning, than a radiant
lover fresh from his charmer. In due time, the bride also was brought forth by the
matrons for the bath, where she was anointed from head to foot with a vegetable
butter,—whose odor is probably more agreeable to Africans than Americans,—and fed
with a bowl of broth made from a young and tender pullet.
The marriage fêtes lasted three days, after which I insisted that Joseph should give up
nonsense for business, and sobered his ecstasies by handing him a wedding-bill for
five hundred and fifty dollars.
There is hardly a doubt that he considered Coomba very dear, if not absolutely
adorable!

FOOTNOTE:
[2] A tontongee is a strip of white cotton cloth, three inches wide and four feet long, used as
a virgin African’s only dress. It is wound round the limbs, and, hanging partly in front and
partly behind, is supported from the maiden’s waist by strands of showee-beads.

CHAPTER XIV.
I am sorry to say that my colleague’s honeymoon did not last long, although it was not
interrupted by domestic discord. One of his malicious Sierra Leone creditors, who had
not been dealt with quite as liberally as the rest, called on the colonial governor of that
British establishment, and alleged that a certain Edward Joseph, an Englishman,
owned a factory on the Rio Pongo, in company with a Spaniard, and was engaged in
the slave-trade!
At this the British lion, of course, growled in his African cage, and bestirred himself to
punish the recreant cub. An expedition was forthwith fitted out to descend upon our
little establishment; and, in all likelihood, the design would have been executed, had
not our friendly Israelite in Sierra Leone sent us timely warning. No sooner did the
news arrive than Joseph embarked in a slaver, and, packing up his valuables, together
with sixty negroes, fled from Africa. His disconsolate bride was left to return to her
parents.
As the hostile visit from the British colony was hourly expected, I did not tarry long in
putting a new face on Kambia. Fresh books were made out in my name exclusively;
their dates were carefully suited to meet all inquiries; and the townspeople were
prepared to answer impertinent questions; so that, when Lieutenant Findlay, of Her
Britannic Majesty’s naval service, made his appearance in the river, with three boats
bearing the cross of St. George, no man in the settlement was less anxious than Don
Téodore, the Spaniard.
When the lieutenant handed me an order from the governor of Sierra Leone and its
dependencies, authorizing him to burn or destroy the property of Joseph, as well as to
arrest that personage himself, I regretted that I was unable to facilitate his patriotic
projects, inasmuch as the felon was afloat on salt water, while all his property had
long before been conveyed to me by a regular bill of sale. In proof of my assertions, I
produced the instrument and the books; and when I brought in our African landlord to
sustain me in every particular, the worthy lieutenant was forced to relinquish his
hostility and accept an invitation to dinner. His conduct during the whole investigation
was that of a gentleman; which, I am sorry to say, was not always the case with his
professional countrymen.

During the rainy season, which begins in June and lasts till October, the stores of
provisions in establishments along the Atlantic coast often become sadly impaired.

The Foulah and Mandingo tribes of the interior are prevented by the swollen condition
of intervening streams from visiting the beach with their produce. In these straits, the
factories have recourse by canoes to the smaller rivers, which are neither entered by
sea-going vessels, nor blockaded for the caravans of interior chiefs.
Among the tribes or clans visited by me in such seasons, I do not remember any
whose intercourse afforded more pleasure, or exhibited nobler traits, than the Bagers,
who dwell on the solitary margins of these shallow rivulets, and subsist by boiling salt
in the dry season and making palm-oil in the wet. I have never read an account of
these worthy blacks, whose civility, kindness, and honesty will compare favorably
with those of more civilized people.
The Bagers live very much apart from the great African tribes, and keep up their race
by intermarriage. The language is peculiar, and altogether devoid of that Italian
softness that makes the Soosoo so musical.
Having a week or two of perfect leisure, I determined to set out in a canoe to visit one
of these establishments, especially as no intelligence had reached me for some time
from one of my country traders who had been dispatched thither with an invoice of
goods to purchase palm-oil. My canoe was comfortably fitted with a waterproof
awning, and provisioned for a week.
A tedious pull along the coast and through the dangerous surf, brought us to the
narrow creek through whose marshy mesh of mangroves we squeezed our canoe to the
bank. Even after landing, we waded a considerable distance through marsh before we
reached the solid land. The Bager town stood some hundred yards from the landing, at
the end of a desolate savanna, whose lonely waste spread as far as the eye could reach.
The village itself seemed quite deserted, so that I had difficulty in finding “the oldest
inhabitant,” who invariably stays at home and acts the part of chieftain. This venerable
personage welcomed me with great cordiality; and, having made my dantica, or, in
other words, declared the purpose of my visit, I desired to be shown the trader’s
house. The patriarch led me at once to a hut, whose miserable thatch was supported by
four posts. Here I recognized a large chest, a rum cask, and the grass hammock of my
agent. I was rather exasperated to find my property thus neglected and exposed, and
began venting my wrath in no seemly terms on the delinquent clerk, when my
conductor laid his hand gently on my sleeve, and said there was no need to blame him.
“This,” continued he, “is his house; here your property is sheltered from sun and rain;
and, among the Bagers, whenever your goods are protected from the elements, they
are safe from every danger. Your man has gone across the plain to a neighboring town
for oil; to-night he will be back;—in the mean time, look at your goods!”
I opened the chest, which, to my surprise, was unlocked, and found it nearly full of the
merchandise I had placed in it. I shook the cask, and its weight seemed hardly
diminished. I turned the spigot, and lo! the rum trickled on my feet. Hard-by was a

temporary shed, filled to the roof with hides and casks of palm-oil, all of which, the
gray-beard declared was my property.
Whilst making this inspection, I have no doubt the expression of my face indicated a
good deal of wonder, for I saw the old man smile complacently as he followed me
with his quiet eye.
“Good!” said the chief, “it is all there,—is it not? We Bagers are neither Soosoos,
Mandingoes, Foulahs, nor White-men, that the goods of a stranger are not safe in our
towns! We work for a living; we want little; big ships never come to us, and we
neither steal from our guests nor go to war to sell one another!”
The conversation, I thought, was becoming a little personal; and, with a gesture of
impatience, I put a stop to it. On second thoughts, however, I turned abruptly round,
and shaking the noble savage’s hand with a vigor that made him wince, presented him
with a piece of cloth. Had Diogenes visited Africa in search of his man, it is by no
means unlikely that he might have extinguished his lamp among the Bagers!

It was about two o’clock in the afternoon when I arrived in the town, which, as I
before observed, seemed quite deserted, except by a dozen or two ebony antiquities,
who crawled into the sunshine when they learned the advent of a stranger. The young
people were absent gathering palm nuts in a neighboring grove. A couple of hours
before sundown, my trader returned; and, shortly after, the merry gang of villagers
made their appearance, laughing, singing, dancing, and laden with fruit. As soon as
the gossips announced the arrival of a white man during their absence, the little hut
that had been hospitably assigned me was surrounded by a crowd, five or six deep, of
men, women, and children. The pressure was so close and sudden that I was almost
stifled. Finding they would not depart until I made myself visible, I emerged from
concealment and shook hands with nearly all. The women, in particular, insisted on
gratifying themselves with a sumboo or smell at my face,—which is the native’s kiss,
—and folded their long black arms in an embrace of my neck, threatening peril to my
shirt with their oiled and dusty flesh. However, I noticed so much bonhommie among
the happy crew that my heart would not allow me to repulse them; so I kissed the
youngest and shunned the crones. In token of my good will, I led a dozen or more of
the prettiest to the rum-barrel, and made them happy for the night.
When the townsfolks had comfortably nestled themselves in their hovels, the old
chief, with a show of some formality, presented me a heavy ram-goat, distinguished
for its formidable head-ornaments, which, he said, was offered as a bonne-bouche, for
my supper. He then sent a crier through the town, informing the women that a white
stranger would be their guest during the night; and, in less than half an hour, my hut

was visited by most of the village dames and damsels. One brought a pint of rice;
another some roots of cassava; another, a few spoonfuls of palm-oil; another a bunch
of peppers; while the oldest lady of the party made herself particularly remarkable by
the gift of a splendid fowl. In fact, the crier had hardly gone his rounds, before my mat
was filled with the voluntary contributions of the villagers; and the wants, not only of
myself but of my eight rowers, completely supplied.
There was nothing peculiar in this exhibition of hospitality, on account of my
nationality. It was the mere fulfilment of a Bager law; and the poorest black stranger
would have shared the rite as well as myself. I could not help thinking that I might
have travelled from one end of England or America to the other, without meeting a
Bager welcome. Indeed, it seemed somewhat questionable, whether it were better for
the English to civilize Africa, or for the Bagers to send missionaries to their brethren
in Britain!
These reflections, however, did not spoil my appetite, for I confess a feeling of
unusual content and relish when the patriarch sat down with me before the covered
bowls prepared for our supper. But, alas! for human hopes and tastes! As I lifted the
lid from the vessel containing the steaming stew, its powerful fragrance announced the
remains of that venerable quadruped with which I had been welcomed. It was
probably not quite in etiquette among the Bagers to decline the stew, yet, had
starvation depended on it, I could not have touched a morsel. Accordingly, I forbore
the mess and made free with the rice, seasoning it well with salt and peppers. But my
amiable landlord was resolved that I should not go to rest with such penitential fare,
and ordered one of his wives to bring her supper to my lodge. A taste of the dish
satisfied me that it was edible, though intensely peppered. I ate with the appetite of an
alderman, nor was it till two days after that my trader informed me I had supped so
heartily on the spareribs of an alligator! It was well that the hours of digestion had
gone by, for though partial to the chase, I had never loved “water fowl” of so wild a
character.
When supper was over, I escaped from the hut to breathe a little fresh air before
retiring for the night. Hardly had I put my head outside when I found myself literally
inhaling the mosquitoes that swarmed at nightfall over these marshy flats. I took it for
granted that there was to be no rest for me in darkness among the Bagers; but, when I
mentioned my trouble to the chief, he told me that another hut had already been
provided for my sleeping quarters, where my bed was made of certain green and
odorous leaves which are antidotes to mosquitoes. After a little more chat, he offered
to guide me to the hovel, a low, thickly matted bower, through whose single aperture I
crawled on hands and knees. As soon as I was in, the entrance was closed, and
although I felt very much as if packed in my grave, I slept an unbroken sleep till day-
dawn.[D]

My return to the Rio Pongo was attended with considerable danger, yet I did not regret
the trial of my spirit, as it enabled me to see a phase of African character which
otherwise might have been missed.
After passing two days among the Bagers, I departed once more in my canoe,
impelled by the stout muscles of the Kroomen. The breeze freshened as we passed
from the river’s mouth across the boiling surf of the bar, but, when we got fairly to
sea, I found the Atlantic so vexed by the rising gale, that, in spite of waterproof
awning and diligent bailing, we were several times near destruction. Still, I had great
confidence in the native boatmen, whose skill in their skiffs is quite as great as their
dexterity when naked in the water. I had often witnessed their agility as they escaped
from capsized boats on the surf of our bar; and often had I rewarded them with a
dram, when they came, as from a frolic, dripping and laughing to the beach.
When night began to fall around us the storm increased, and I could detect, by the low
chatter and anxious looks of the rowers, that they were alarmed. As far as my eye
reached landward, I could descry nothing but a continuous reef on which the chafed
sea was dashing furiously in columns of the densest spray. Of course I felt that it was
not my duty, nor would it be prudent, to undertake the guidance of the canoe in such
circumstances. Yet, I confess that a shudder ran through my nerves when I saw my
“head-man” suddenly change our course and steer the skiff directly towards the rocks.
On she bounded like a racer. The sea through which they urged her foamed like a
caldron with the rebounding surf. Nothing but wave-lashed rock was before us. At last
I could detect a narrow gap in the iron wall, which was filled with surges in the
heaviest swells. We approached it, and paused at the distance of fifty feet. A wave had
just burst through the chasm like a storming army. We waited for the succeeding lull.
All hands laid still,—not a word was spoken or paddle dipped. Then came the next
enormous swell under our stern;—the oars flew like lightning;—the canoe rose as a
feather on the crest of the surf;—in a moment she shot through the cleft and reposed
in smooth water near the shore. As we sped through the gap, I might have touched the
rocks on both sides with my extended arms!
Such is the skill and daring of Kroomen.

FOOTNOTE:
[D] These Bagers are remarkable for their honesty, as I was convinced by several anecdotes
related, during my stay in this village, by my trading clerk. He took me to a neighboring
lemon-tree, and exhibited an English brass steelyard hanging on its branches, which had
been left there by a mulatto merchant from Sierra Leone, who died in the town on a trading
trip. This article, with a chest half full of goods, deposited in the “palaver-house,” had been
kept securely more than twelve years in expectation that some of his friends would send for
them from the colony. The Bagers, I was told, have no jujus, fetiches, or gree-grees;—they
worship no god or evil spirit;—their dead are buried without tears or ceremony;—and their
hereafter in eternal oblivion.

The males of this tribe are of middling size and deep black color; broad-shouldered, but
neither brave nor warlike. They keep aloof from other tribes, and by a Fullah law, are
protected from foreign violence in consequence of their occupation as salt-makers, which is
regarded by the interior natives as one of the most useful trades. Their fondness for palm-oil
and the little work they are compelled to perform, make them generally indolent. Their
dress is a single handkerchief, or a strip of country cloth four or five inches wide, most
carefully put on.
The young women have none of the sylphlike appearance of the Mandingoes or Soosoos.
They work hard and use palm-oil plentifully both internally and externally, so that their
relaxed flesh is bloated like blubber. Both sexes shave their heads, and adorn their noses
and lower lips with rings, while they penetrate their ears with porcupine quills or sticks.
They neither sell nor buy each other, though they acquire children of both sexes from other
tribes, and adopt them into their own, or dispose of them if not suitable. Their avails of
work are commonly divided; so the Bagers may be said to resemble the Mormons in
polygamy, the Fourierites in community, but to exceed both in honesty!
I am sorry that their nobler characteristics have so few imitators among the other tribes of
Africa.

CHAPTER XV.
When the rains began to slacken, a petty caravan now and then straggled towards the
coast; but, as I was only a new comer in the region, and not possessed of abundant
means, I enjoyed a slender share of the trade. Still I consoled myself with the hope of
better luck in the dry season.
In the mean time, however, I not only heard of Joseph’s safe arrival at Matanzas, but
received a clerk whom he dispatched to dwell in Kambia while I visited the interior.
Moreover, I built a boat, and sent her to Sierra Leone with a cargo of palm-oil, to be
exchanged for British goods; and, finally, during my perfect leisure, I went to work
with diligence to study the trade in which fortune seemed to have cast my lot.
It would be a task of many pages if I attempted to give a full account of the origin and
causes of slavery in Africa. As a national institution, it seems to have existed always.
Africans have been bondsmen every where: and the oldest monuments bear their
images linked with menial toils and absolute servitude. Still, I have no hesitation in
saying, that three fourths of the slaves sent abroad from Africa are the fruit of native
wars, fomented by the avarice and temptation of our own race. I cannot exculpate any
commercial nation from this sweeping censure. We stimulate the negro’s passions by
the introduction of wants and fancies never dreamed of by the simple native, while
slavery was an institution of domestic need and comfort alone. But what was once a
luxury has now ripened into an absolute necessity; so that man, in truth, has become
the coin of Africa, and the “legal tender” of a brutal trade.
England, to-day, with all her philanthropy, sends, under the cross of St. George, to
convenient magazines of lawful commerce on the coast, her Birmingham muskets,
Manchester cottons, and Liverpool lead, all of which are righteously swapped at
Sierra Leone, Acra, and on the Gold coast, for Spanish or Brazilian bills on London.
Yet, what British merchant does not know the traffic on which those bills are founded,
and for whose support his wares are purchased? France, with her bonnet rouge and
fraternity, dispatches her Rouen cottons, Marseilles brandies, flimsy taffetas, and
indescribable variety of tinsel gewgaws. Philosophic Germany demands a slice for her
looking-glasses and beads; while multitudes of our own worthy traders, who would
hang a slaver as a pirate when caught, do not hesitate to supply him indirectly with
tobacco, powder, cotton, Yankee rum, and New England notions, in order to bait the
trap in which he may be caught! It is the temptation of these things, I repeat, that feeds
the slave-making wars of Africa, and forms the human basis of those admirable bills
of exchange.

I did not intend to write a homily on Ethiopian commerce when I begun this chapter;
but, on reviewing the substantial motives of the traffic, I could not escape a statement
which tells its own tale, and is as unquestionable as the facts of verified history.
Such, then, may be said to be the predominating influence that supports the African
slave-trade; yet, if commerce of all kinds were forbidden with that continent, the
customs and laws of the natives would still encourage slavery as a domestic affair,
though, of course, in a very modified degree. The rancorous family quarrels among
tribes and parts of tribes, will always promote conflicts that resemble the forays of our
feudal ancestors, while the captives made therein will invariably become serfs.
Besides this, the financial genius of Africa, instead of devising bank notes or the
precious metals as a circulating medium, has from time immemorial, declared that a
human creature,—the true representative and embodiment of labor,—is the most
valuable article on earth. A man, therefore, becomes the standard of prices. A slave is a
note of hand, that may be discounted or pawned; he is a bill of exchange that carries
himself to his destination and pays a debt bodily; he is a tax that walks corporeally
into the chieftain’s treasury. Thus, slavery is not likely to be surrendered by the
negroes themselves as a national institution. Their social interests will continue to
maintain hereditary bondage; they will send the felon and the captive to foreign
barracoons; and they will sentence to domestic servitude the orphans of culprits,
disorderly children, gamblers, witches, vagrants, cripples, insolvents, the deaf, the
mute, the barren, and the faithless. Five-sixths of the population is in chains.[3]
To facilitate the sale of these various unfortunates or malefactors, there exists among
the Africans a numerous class of brokers, who are as skilful in their traffic as the
jockeys of civilized lands. These adroit scoundrels rove the country in search of
objects to suit different patrons. They supply the body-guard of princes; procure
especial tribes for personal attendants; furnish laborers for farms; fill the harems of
debauchees; pay or collect debts in flesh; and in cases of emergency take the place of
bailiffs, to kidnap under the name of sequestration. If a native king lacks cloth, arms,
powder, balls, tobacco, rum, or salt, and does not trade personally with the factories
on the beach, he employs one of these dexterous gentry to effect the barter; and thus
both British cotton and Yankee rum ascend the rivers from the second hands into
which they have passed, while the slave approaches the coast to become the ebony
basis of a bill of exchange!
It has sometimes struck me as odd, how the extremes of society almost meet on
similar principles; and how much some African short-comings resemble the conceded
civilizations of other lands!

FOOTNOTE:

[3] Dr. Lugenbeel’s “Sketches of Liberia.”: 1853. p. 45, 2d ed.

CHAPTER XVI.
The month of November, 1827, brought the wished-for “dry season;” and with it came
a message from the leader of a caravan, that, at the full of the moon, he would halt in
my village with all the produce he could impress. The runner represented his master as
bearing a missive from his beloved nephew Ahmah-de-Bellah, and declared that he
only lingered on the path to swell his caravan for the profit of my coffers.
I did not let the day pass before I sent an interpreter to greet my promised guest with
suitable presents; while I took advantage of his delay to build a neat cottage for his
reception, inasmuch as no Fullah Mahometan will abide beneath the same roof with
an infidel. I furnished the establishment, according to their taste, with green hides and
several fresh mats.
True to his word, Mami-de-Yong made known his arrival in my neighborhood on the
day when the planet attained its full diameter. The moment the pious Mussulman,
from the high hills in the rear of my settlement, espied the river winding to the sea, he
turned to the east, and raising his arms to heaven, and extending them towards Mecca,
gave thanks for his safe arrival on the beach. After repeated genuflections, in which
the earth was touched by his prostrate forehead, he arose, and taking the path towards
Kambia, struck up a loud chant in honor of the prophet, in which he was joined by the
interminable procession.
It was quite an imposing sight—this Oriental parade and barbaric pomp. My native
landlord, proud of the occasion, as well as of his Mahometan progenitors, joined in
the display. As the train approached my establishment, I ordered repeated salutes in
honor of the stranger, and as I had no minstrels or music to welcome the Fullah, I
commanded my master of ceremonies to conceal the deficiency by plenty of smoke
and a dozen more rounds of rattling musketry.
This was the first caravan and the first leader of absolutely royal pretensions that
visited my settlement; so I lined my piazza with mats, put a body-guard under arms
behind me, decorated the front with fancy flags, and opposite the stool where I took
my seat, caused a pure white sheepskin of finest wool to be spread for the
accommodation of the noble savage. Advancing to the steps of my dwelling, I stood
uncovered as the Fullah approached and tendered me a silver-mounted gazelle-horn
snuff-box—the credential by which Ahmah-de-Bellah had agreed to certify the
mission. Receiving the token with a salaam, I carried it reverently to my forehead,
and passed it to Ali-Ninpha, who, on this occasion, played the part of my scribe. The
ceremony over, we took him by the hands and led him to his allotted sheepskin, while,
with a bow, I returned to my stool.

According to “country custom,” Mami-de-Yong then began the dantica, or exposition
of purposes, first of all invoking Allah to witness his honor and sincerity. “Not only,”
said the Mussulman, “am I the bearer of a greeting from my dear nephew Ahmah-de-
Bellah, but I am an envoy from my royal master the Ali-Mami, of Footha-Yallon,
who, at his son’s desire, has sent me with an escort to conduct you on your promised
visit to Timbo. During your absence, my lord has commanded us to dwell in your
stead at Kambia, so that your property may be safe from the Mulatto Mongo of
Bangalang, whose malice towards your person has been heard of even among our
distant hills!”
The latter portion of this message somewhat surprised me, for though my relations
with Mongo John were by no means amicable, I did not imagine that the story of our
rupture had spread so far, or been received with so much sympathy.
Accordingly, when Mami-de-Yong finished his message, I approached him with
thanks for his master’s interest in my welfare; and, placing Ahmah-de-Bellah’s Koran
—which I had previously wrapped in a white napkin—in his hands, as a token of the
nephew’s friendship, I retired once more to my seat. As soon as the holy book
appeared from the folds, Mami-de-Yong drew a breath of surprise, and striking his
breast, fell on his knees with his head on the ground, where he remained for several
minutes apparently in rapt devotion. As he rose—his forehead sprinkled with dust, and
his eyes sparkling with tears—he opened the volume, and pointed out to me and his
people his own handwriting, which he translated to signify that “Mami-de-Yong gave
this word of God to Ahmah-de-Bellah, his kinsman.” At the reading of the sentence,
all the Fullahs shouted, “Glory to Allah and Mahomet his Prophet!” Then, coming
forward again to the chief, I laid my hand on the Koran, and swore by the help of God,
to accept the invitation of the great king of Footha-Yallon.
This terminated the ceremonial reception, after which I hastened to conduct Mami-de-
Yong to his quarters, where I presented him with a sparkling new kettle and an
inkstand, letting him understand, moreover, I was specially anxious to know that all
the wants of his attendants in the caravan were completely satisfied.
Next morning early, I remembered the joy of his nephew Ahmah-de-Bellah, when I
first treated him to coffee; and determined to welcome the chief, as soon as he came
forth from his ablutions to prayers, with a cup distilled from the fragrant berry. I could
not have hit upon a luxury more gratifying to the old gentleman. Thirty years before
had he drank it in Timbuctoo, where it is used, he said, by the Moses-people (meaning
the Hebrews), with milk and honey; and its delicious aroma brought the well-
remembered taste to his lips ere they touched the sable fluid.
Long before Mami-de-Yong’s arrival, his fame as a learned “book-man” and extensive
traveller preceded him, so that when he mentioned his travel to Timbuctoo, I begged
him to give me some account of that “capital of capitals,” as the Africans call it. The

royal messenger promised to comply as soon as he finished the morning lessons of the
caravan’s children. His quarters were filled with a dozen or more of young Fullahs and
Mandingoes squatted around a fire, while the prince sat apart in a corner with
inkstand, writing reeds, and a pile of old manuscripts. Ali-Ninpha, our backsliding
Mahometan, stood by, pretending devoted attention to Mami’s precepts and the
Prophet’s versus. The sinner was a scrupulous follower in the presence of the faithful;
but when their backs were turned, I know few who relished a porker more lusciously,
or avoided water with more scrupulous care. Yet why should I scoff at poor Ali?
Joseph and I had done our best to civilize him!
Mami-de-Yong apologized for the completion of his daily task in my presence, and
went on with his instruction, while the pupils wrote down notes, on wooden slabs,
with reeds and a fluid made of powder dissolved in water.
I am sorry to say that these Ethiopian Mahometans are but poor scholars. Their entire
instruction amounts to little more than the Koran, and when they happen to write or
receive a letter, its interpretation is a matter over which many an hour is toilsomely
spent. Mami-de-Yong, however, was superior to most of his countrymen; and, in fact,
I must record him in my narrative as the most erudite Negro I ever encountered.

HIS TRIP TO TIMBUCTOO.

True to his promise, the envoy came to my piazza, as soon as school was over, and
squatting sociably on our mats and sheepskins, with a plentiful supply of pipes and
tobacco, we formed as pleasant a little party as was assembled that day on the banks
of the Rio Pongo. Ali-Ninpha acted as interpreter, having prepared himself for the
long-winded task by a preliminary dram from my private locker, out of sight of the
noble Mahometan.
Invoking the Lord’s name,—as is usual among Mussulmen,—Mami-de-Yong took a
long whiff at his pipe, and, receiving from his servant a small bag of fine sand, spread
it smoothly on the floor, leaving the mass about a quarter of an inch in thickness. This
was his black-board, designed to serve for the delineation of his journey. On the
westernmost margin of his sand, he dotted a point with his finger for the starting at
Timbo. As he proceeded with his track over Africa towards the grand capital, he
marked the outlines of the principal territories, and spotted the remarkable towns
through which he passed. By a thick or thin line, he denoted the large rivers and small
streams that intercepted his path, while he heaved up the sand into heaps to represent a
mountain, or smoothed it into perfect levels to imitate the broad prairies and savannas
of the interior. When he came to a dense forest, his snuff-box was called in requisition,
and a pinch or two judiciously sprinkled, stood for the monarchs of the wood.

Like all Oriental story-tellers, Mami proved rather prolix. His tale was nearly as long
as his travel. He insisted on describing his reception at every village. At each river he
had his story of difficulty and danger in constructing rafts or building bridges. He
counted the minutes he lost in awaiting the diminution of floods. Anon, he would
catalogue the various fish with which a famous river teemed; and, when he got fairly
into the woods, there was no end of adventures and hairbreadth escapes from
alligators, elephants, anacondas, vipers, and the fatal tape snake, whose bite is certain
death. In the mountains he encountered wolves, wild asses, hyænas, zebras, and
eagles.
In fact, the whole morning glided away with a geographical, zoological, and statistical
overture to his tour; so that, when the hour of prayer and ablution arrived, Mami-de-
Yong had not yet reached Timbuctoo! The double rite of cleanliness and faith required
him to pause in his narrative; and, apologizing for the interruption, he left a slave to
guard the map while he retired to perform his religious services.
When the noble Fullah got back, I had a nice lunch prepared on a napkin in the
neighborhood of his diagram, so that he could munch his biscuits and sugar without
halting on his path. Before he began, however, I took the liberty to offer a hint about
the precious value of time in this brief life of ours, whilst I asked a question or two
about the “capital of capitals,” to indicate my eagerness to enter the walls of
Timbuctoo. Mami-de-Yong, who was a man of tact as well as humor, smiled at my
insinuation, and apologizing like a Christian for the natural tediousness of all old
travellers, skipped a degree or two of the wilderness, and at once stuck his buffalo-
horn snuff-box into the eastern margin of the sand, to indicate that he was at his
journey’s end.
Mami had visited many of the European colonies and Moorish kingdoms on the north
coast of Africa, so that he enjoyed the advantage of comparison, and, of course, was
not stupefied by the untravelled ignorance of Africans who consider Timbuctoo a
combination of Paris and paradise. Indeed, he did not presume, like most of the
Mandingo chiefs, to prefer it to Senegal or Sierra Leone. He confessed that the royal
palace was nothing but a vast inclosure of mud walls, built without taste or symmetry,
within whose labyrinthine mesh there were numerous buildings for the wives,
children, and kindred of the sovereign. If the royal palace of Timbuctoo was of such a
character,—“What,” said he, “were the dwellings of nobles and townsfolk?” The
streets were paths;—the stores were shops;—the suburb of an European colony was
superior to their best display! The markets of Timbuctoo, alone, secured his
admiration. Every week they were thronged with traders, dealers, peddlers and
merchants, who either dwelt in the neighboring kingdoms, or came from afar with
slaves and produce. Moors and Israelites, from the north-east, were the most eminent
and opulent merchants; and among them he counted a travelling class, crowned with
peculiar turbans, whom he called “Joseph’s-people,” or, in all likelihood, Armenians.

The prince had no mercy on the government of this influential realm. Strangers, he
said, were watched and taxed. Indeed, he spoke of it with the peculiar love that we
would suppose a Hungarian might bear towards Austria, or a Milanese to the
inquisitorial powers of Lombardy. In fact, I found that, despite of its architectural
meanness, Timbuctoo was a great central mart for exchange, and that commercial men
as well as the innumerable petty kings, frequented it not only for the abundant mineral
salt in its vicinity, but because they could exchange their slaves for foreign
merchandise. I asked the Fullah why he preferred the markets of Timbuctoo to the
well-stocked stores of regular European settlements on a coast which was reached
with so much more ease than this core of Africa? “Ah!” said the astute trafficker, “no
market is a good one for the genuine African, in which he cannot openly exchange his
blacks for whatever the original owner or importer can sell without fear! Slaves, Don
Téodore, are our money!”
The answer solved in my mind one of the political problems in the question of African
civilization, which I shall probably develope in the course of this narrative.

CHAPTER XVII.
Having completed the mercantile negotiations of the caravan, and made my personal
arrangements for a protracted absence, I put the noble Fullah in charge of my
establishment, with special charges to my retainers, clerks, runners, and villagers, to
regard the Mami as my second self. I thought it well, moreover, before I plunged into
the wilderness,—leaving my worldly goods and worldly prospects in charge of a
Mussulman stranger,—to row down to Bangalang for a parting chat with Mongo John,
in which I might sound the veteran as to his feeling and projects. Ormond was in
trouble as soon as I appeared. He was willing enough that I might perish by treachery
on the roadside, yet he was extremely reluctant that I should penetrate Africa and
make alliances which should give me superiority over the monopolists of the beach. I
saw these things passing through his jealous heart as we talked together with
uncordial civility. At parting I told the Mongo, for the first time, that I was sure my
establishment would not go to decay or suffer harm in my absence, inasmuch as that
powerful Fullah, the Ali-Mami of Footha-Yallon had deputed a lieutenant to watch
Kambia while I travelled, and that he would occupy my village with his chosen
warriors. The mulatto started with surprise as I finished, and abruptly left the
apartment in silence.
I slept well that night, notwithstanding the Mongo’s displeasure. My confidence in the
Fullah was perfect. Stranger as he was, I had an instinctive reliance on his protection
of my home, and his guardianship of my person through the wilderness.
At day-dawn I was up. It was a fresh and glorious morning. As nature awoke in the
woods of that primitive world, the mists stole off from the surface of the water; and,
as the first rays shot through the glistening dew of the prodigious vegetation, a
thousand birds sent forth their songs as if to welcome me into their realm of unknown
paths.
After a hearty breakfast my Spanish clerk was furnished with minute instructions in
writing, and, at the last moment, I presented the Fullah chief to my people as a
temporary master to whom they were to pay implicit obedience for his generous
protection. By ten o’clock, my caravan was in motion. It consisted of thirty
individuals deputed by Ahmah-de-Bellah, headed by one of his relations as captain.
Ten of my own servants were assigned to carry baggage, merchandise, and provisions;
while Ali-Ninpha, two interpreters, my body-servant, a waiter, and a hunter, composed
my immediate guard. In all, there were about forty-five persons.
When we were starting, Mami-de-Yong approached to “snap fingers,” and put in my
hands a verse of the Koran in his master’s handwriting,—“hospitality to the wearied

stranger is the road to heaven,”—which was to serve me as a passport among all good
Mahometans. If I had time, no doubt I would have thought how much more Christian
this document was than the formal paper with which we are fortified by “foreign
offices” and “state departments,” when we go abroad from civilized lands;—but,
before I could summon so much sentiment, the Fullah chief stooped to the earth, and
filling his hands with dust, sprinkled it over our heads, in token of a prosperous
journey. Then, prostrating himself with his head on the ground, he bade us “go our
way!”
I believe I have already said that even the best of African roads are no better than
goat-paths, and barely sufficient for the passage of a single traveller. Accordingly, our
train marched off in single file. Two men, cutlass in hand, armed, besides, with loaded
muskets, went in advance not only to scour the way and warn us of danger, but to cut
the branches and briers that soon impede an untravelled path in this prolific land. They
marched within hail of the caravan, and shouted whenever we approached bee-trees,
ant-hills, hornet-nests, reptiles, or any of the Ethiopian perils that are unheard of in our
American forests. Behind these pioneers, came the porters with food and luggage; the
centre of the caravan was made up of women, children, guards, and followers; while
the rear was commanded by myself and the chiefs, who, whips in hand, found it
sometimes beneficial to stimulate the steps of stragglers. As we crossed the
neighboring Soosoo towns, our imposing train was saluted with discharges of
musketry, while crowds of women and children followed their “cupy,” or “white-
man,” to bid him farewell on the border of the settlement.
For a day or two our road passed through a rolling country, interspersed with forests,
cultivated fields, and African villages, in which we were welcomed by the generous
chiefs with bungees, or trifling gifts, in token of amity. Used to the scant exercise of a
lazy dweller on the coast, whose migrations are confined to a journey from his house
to the landing, and from the landing to his house, it required some time to habituate
me once more to walking. By degrees, however, I overcame the foot-sore weariness
that wrapped me in perfect lassitude when I sank into my hammock on the first night
of travel. However, as we became better acquainted with each other and with wood-
life, we tripped along merrily in the shadowy silence of the forest,—singing, jesting,
and praising Allah. Even the slaves were relaxed into familiarity never permitted in
the towns; while masters would sometimes be seen relieving the servants by bearing
their burdens. At nightfall the women brought water, cooked food, and distributed
rations; so that, after four days pleasant wayfaring in a gentle trot, our dusty caravan
halted at sunset before the closed gates of a fortified town belonging to Ibrahim Ali,
the Mandingo chief of Kya.
It was some time before our shouts and beating on the gates aroused the watchman to
answer our appeal, for it was the hour of prayer, and Ibrahim was at his devotions. At
last, pestered by their dalliance, I fired my double-barrelled gun, whose loud report I

knew was more likely to reach the ear of a praying Mussulman. I did not reckon
improperly, for hardly had the echoes died away before the great war-drum of the
town was rattled, while a voice from a loophole demanded our business. I left the
negotiation for our entry to the Fullah chief, who forthwith answered that “the Ali-
Mami’s caravan, laden with goods, demanded hospitality;” while Ali-Ninpha informed
the questioner, that Don Téodore, the “white man of Kambia,” craved admittance to
the presence of Ibrahim the faithful.
In a short time the wicket creaked, and Ibrahim himself put forth his head to welcome
the strangers, and to admit them, one by one, into the town. His reception of myself
and Ali-Ninpha was extremely cordial; but the Fullah chief was addressed with cold
formality, for the Mandingoes have but little patience with the well-known
haughtiness of their national rivals.
Ali-Ninpha had been Ibrahim’s playmate before he migrated to the coast. Their
friendship still existed in primitive sincerity, and the chieftain’s highest ambition was
to honor the companion and guest of his friend. Accordingly, his wives and females
were summoned to prepare my quarters with comfort and luxury. The best house was
chosen for my lodging. The earthen floor was spread with mats. Hides were stretched
on adobe couches, and a fire was kindled to purify the atmosphere. Pipes were
furnished my companions; and, while a hammock was slung for my repose before
supper, a chosen henchman was dispatched to seek the fattest sheep for that important
meal.
Ibrahim posted sentinels around my hut, so that my slumbers were uninterrupted, until
Ali-Ninpha roused me with the pleasant news that the bowls of rice and stews were
smoking on the mat in the chamber of Ibrahim himself. Ninpha knew my tastes and
superintended the cook. He had often jested at the “white man’s folly,” when my
stomach turned at some disgusting dish of the country; so that the pure roasts and
broils of well-known pieces slipped down my throat with the appetite of a trooper.
While these messes were under discussion, the savory steam of a rich stew with a
creamy sauce saluted my nostrils, and, without asking leave, I plunged my spoon into
a dish that stood before my entertainers, and seemed prepared exclusively for
themselves. In a moment I was invited to partake of the bonne-bouche; and so
delicious did I find it, that, even at this distance of time, my mouth waters when I
remember the forced-meat balls of mutton, minced with roasted ground-nuts, that I
devoured that night in the Mandingo town of Kya.
But the best of feasts is dull work without an enlivening bowl. Water alone—pure and
cool as it was in this hilly region—did not quench our thirst. Besides this, I recollected
the fondness of my landlord, Ali-Ninpha, for strong distillations, and I guessed that his
playmate might indulge, at least privately, in a taste for similar libations. I spoke,
therefore, of “cordial bitters,”—(a name not unfamiliar even to the most temperate

Christians, in defence of flatulent stomachs,)—and at the same time producing my
travelling canteen of Otard’s best, applied it to the nostrils of the pair.
I know not how it happened, but before I could warn the Mahometans of the risk they
incurred, the lips of the bottle slid from their noses to their mouths, while upheaved
elbows long sustained in air, gave notice that the flask was relishing and the draft
“good for their complaints.” Indeed, so appetizing was the liquor, that another ground-
nut stew was demanded; and, of course, another bottle was required to allay its
dyspeptic qualities.
By degrees, the brandy did its work on the worthy Mahometans. While it restored Ali-
Ninpha to his early faith, and brought him piously to his knees with prayers to Allah,
it had a contrary effect on Ibrahim, whom it rendered wild and generous. Every thing
was mine;—house, lands, slaves, and children. He dwelt rapturously on the beauty of
his wives, and kissed Ali-Ninpha in mistake for one of them. This only rendered the
apostate more devout than ever, and set him roaring invocations like a muezzin from a
minaret. In the midst of these orgies, I stole off at midnight, and was escorted by my
servant to a delicious hammock.
It was day-dawn when the caravan’s crier aroused me, as he stood on a house-top
calling the faithful to prayer previous to our departure. Before I could stir, Ali-Ninpha,
haggard, sick, and crest-fallen, from his debauch, rolled into my chamber, and begged
the postponement of our departure, as it was impossible for Ibrahim Ali to appear,
being perfectly vanquished by—“the bitters!” The poor devil hiccoughed between his
words, and so earnestly and with so many bodily gyrations implored my interference
with the Fullah guide, that I saw at once he was in no condition to travel.
As the caravan was my personal escort and designed exclusively for my convenience,
I did not hesitate to command a halt, especially as I was in some measure the cause of
my landlord’s malady. Accordingly, I tied a kerchief round my head, covered myself
with a cloak, and leaning very lackadaisically on the edge of my hammock, sent for
the Fullah chief.
I moaned with pain as he approached, and, declaring that I was prostrated by sudden
fever, hoped he would indulge me by countermanding the order for our march. I do
not know whether the worthy Mussulman understood my case or believed my fever,
but the result was precisely the same, for he assented to my request like a gentleman,
and expressed the deepest sympathy with my sufferings. His next concern was for my
cure. True to the superstition and bigotry of his country, the good-natured Fullah
insisted on taking the management of matters into his own hands, and forthwith
prescribed a dose from the Koran, diluted in water, which he declared was a specific
remedy for my complaint. I smiled at the idea of making a drug of divinity, but as I
knew that homœopathy was harmless under the circumstances, I requested the Fullah
to prepare his physic on the spot. The chief immediately brought his Koran, and

turning over the leaves attentively for some time, at last hit on the appropriate verse,
which he wrote down on a board with gunpowder ink, which he washed off into a
bowl with clean water. This was given me to swallow, and the Mahometan left me to
the operation of his religious charm, with special directions to the servant to allow no
one to disturb my rest.
I have no doubt that the Fullah was somewhat of a quiz, and thought a chapter in his
Bible a capital lesson after a reckless debauch; so I ordered my door to be barricaded,
and slept like a dormouse, until Ibrahim and Ali-Ninpha came thundering at the portal
long after mid-day. They were sadly chopfallen. Penitence spoke from their aching
brows; nor do I hesitate to believe they were devoutly sincere when they forswore
“bitters” for the future. In order to allay suspicion, or quiet his conscience, the Fullah
had been presented with a magnificent ram-goat, flanked by baskets of choicest rice.
When I sallied forth into the town with the suffering sinners, I found the sun fast
declining in the west, and, although my fever had left me, it was altogether too late to
depart from the village on our journey. I mentioned to Ibrahim a report on the coast
that his town was bordered by a sacred spring known as the Devil’s Fountain, and
inquired whether daylight enough still remained to allow us a visit. The chief
assented; and as in his generous fit last night, he had offered me a horse, I now
claimed the gift, and quickly mounted in search of the aqueous demon.

CHAPTER XVIII.
Ah! what joy, after so many years, to be once more in the saddle in an open country,
with a steed of fire and spirit bounding beneath my exhilarated frame! It was long
before I could consent to obey the summons of our guide to follow him on the path.
When the gates of Kya were behind, and the wider roads opened invitingly before me,
I could not help giving rein to the mettlesome beast, as he dashed across the plain
beneath the arching branches of magnificent cotton-woods. The solitude and the
motion were both delightful. Never, since I last galloped from the paseo to Atares, and
from Atares to El Principe, overlooking the beautiful bay of Havana, and the distant
outline of her purple sea, had I felt so gloriously the rush of joyous blood that careered
through my veins like electric fire. Indeed, I know not how long I would have
traversed the woods had not the path suddenly ended at a town, where my Arabian
turned of his own accord, and dashed back along the road till I met my wondering
companions.
Having sobered both our bloods, I felt rather better prepared for a visit to the Satanic
personage who was the object of our excursion. About two miles from Kya, we struck
the foot of a steep hill, some three hundred feet in height, over whose shoulder we
reached a deep and tangled dell, watered by a slender stream which was hemmed in
by a profusion of shrubbery. Crossing the brook, we ascended the opposite declivity
for a short distance till we approached a shelving precipice of rock, along whose
slippery side the ledgelike path continued. I passed it at a bound, and instantly stood
within the arched aperture of a deep cavern, whence a hot and sulphurous stream
trickled slowly towards the ravine. This was the fountain, and the demon who
presided over its source dwelt within the cave.
Whilst I was examining the rocks to ascertain their quality, the guide apprised me that
the impish proprietor of these waters was gifted with a “multitude of tongues,” and, in
all probability, would reply to me in my own, if I thought fit to address him. “Indeed,”
said the savage, “he will answer you word for word and that, too, almost before you
can shape your thought in language. Let us see if he is at home?”
I called, in a loud voice, “Kya!” but as no reply followed, I perceived at once the wit
of the imposture, and without waiting for him to place me, took my own position at a
spot inside the cavern, where I knew the echoes would be redoubled. “Now,” said I, “I
know the devil is at home, as well as you do;”—and, telling my people to listen, I
bellowed, with all my might—“caffra fure!” “infernal black one!”—till the
resounding rocks roared again with demoniac responses. In a moment the cavern was
clear of every African; so that I amused myself letting off shrieks, howls, squeals, and

pistols, until the affrighted natives peeped into the mouth of the cave, thinking the
devil in reality had come for me in a double-breasted garment of thunder and
lightning. I came forth, however, with a whole skin and so hearty a laugh, that the
Africans seized my hands in token of congratulation, and looked at me with
wonderment, as something greater than the devil himself. Without waiting for a
commentary, I leaped on my Arab and darted down the hill.
“And so,” said I, when I got back to Kya, “dost thou in truth believe, beloved Ibrahim,
that the devil dwells in those rocks of the sulphur stream?”
“Why not, brother Theodore? Isn’t the water poison? If you drink, will it not physic
you? When animals lick it in the dry season, do they not die on the margin by scores?
Now, a ‘book-man’ like you, my brother, knows well enough that water alone can’t
kill; so that whenever it does, the devil must be in it; and, moreover, is it not he who
speaks in the cavern?”
“Good,” replied I; “but, pry’thee, dear Ibrahim, read me this riddle: if the devil gets
into water and kills, why don’t he kill when he gets into ‘bitters?’”
“Ah!” said the Ali—“you white men are infidels and scoffers!” as he laughed like a
rollicking trooper, and led me, with his arm round my neck, into supper. “And yet,
Don Téodore, don’t forget the portable imp that you carry in that Yankee flask in your
pocket!”
We did not dispute the matter further. I had been long enough in Africa to find out that
white men made themselves odious to the natives and created bitter enemies, by
despising or ridiculing their errors; and as I was not abroad on a mission of
civilization, I left matters just as I found them. When I was among the Mahometans, I
was an excellent Mussulman, while, among the heathen, I affected considerable
respect for their jujus, gree-grees, fetiches, snakes, iguanas, alligators, and wooden
images.
Ere we set forth next morning, my noble host caused a generous meal to be dispensed
among the caravan. The breakfast consisted of boiled rice dried in the sun, and then
boiled again with milk or water after being pounded finely in a mortar. This nutritive
dish was liberally served; and, as a new Mongo, I was tendered an especial platter,
flanked by copious bowls of cream and honey.
It is true Mandingo etiquette, at the departure of an honored friend, for the Lord of the
Town to escort him on his way to the first brook, drink of the water with the wayfarer,
toast a prompt return, invoke Allah for a prosperous voyage, shake bands, and snap
fingers, in token of friendly adieu. The host who tarries then takes post in the path,
and, fixing his eyes on the departing guest, never stirs till the traveller is lost in the
folds of the forest, or sinks behind the distant horizon.

Such was the conduct of my friend Ibrahim on this occasion; nor was it all. It is a
singular habit of these benighted people, to keep their word whenever they make a
promise! I dare say it is one of the marks of their faint civilization; yet I am forced to
record it as a striking fact. When I sallied forth from the gate of the town, I noticed a
slave holding the horse I rode the day before to the Devil’s fountain, ready
caparisoned and groomed as for a journey. Being accompanied by Ibrahim on foot, I
supposed the animal was designed for his return after our complimentary adieus. But
when we had passed at least a mile beyond the parting brook, I again encountered the
beast, whose leader approached Ali-Ninpha, announcing the horse as a gift from his
master to help me on my way. Ere I backed the blooded animal, an order was directed
to my clerk at Kambia for two muskets, two kegs of powder, two pieces of blue
cotton, and one hundred pounds of tobacco. I advised my official, moreover, to inclose
in the core of the tobacco the stoutest flask he could find of our fourth proof “bitters!”

CHAPTER XIX.
The day was cloudy, but our trotting caravan did not exceed twenty miles in travel. In
Africa things are done leisurely, for neither life, speculation, nor ambition is so
exciting or exacting as to make any one in a hurry. I do not recollect to have ever seen
an individual in haste while I dwelt in the torrid clime. The shortest existence is long
enough, when it is made up of sleep, slave-trade, and mastication.

At sunset no town was in sight; so it was resolved to bivouac in the forest on the
margin of a beautiful brook, where rice, tea, and beef, were speedily boiled and
smoking on the mats. When I was about to stretch my weary limbs for the night on the
ground, my boy gave me another instance of Ibrahim’s true and heedful hospitality, by
producing a grass hammock he had secretly ordered to be packed among my baggage.
With a hammock and a horse I was on velvet in the forest!
Delicious sleep curtained my swinging couch between two splendid cotton-woods
until midnight, when the arm of our Fullah chief was suddenly laid on my shoulder
with a whispered call to prepare for defence or flight. As I leaped to the ground the
caravan was already afoot, though the profoundest silence prevailed throughout the
wary crowd. The watch announced strangers in our neighborhood, and two guides had
been despatched immediately to reconnoitre the forest. This was all the information
they could give me.
The native party was fully prepared and alert with spears, lances, bows and arrows. I
commanded my own men to re-prime their muskets, pistols, and rifles; so that, when
the guides returned with a report that the intruders were supposed to form a party of
fugitive slaves, we were ready for our customers.
Their capture was promptly determined. Some proposed we should delay till daylight;
but Ali-Ninpha, who was a sagacious old fighter, thought it best to complete the
enterprise by night, especially as the savages kept up a smouldering fire in the midst
of their sleeping group, which would serve to guide us.
Our little band was immediately divided into two squads, one under the lead of the
Fullah, and the other commanded by Ali-Ninpha. The Fullah was directed to make a
circuit until he got in the rear of the slaves, while Ali-Ninpha, at a concerted signal,
began to advance towards them from our camp. Half an hour probably elapsed before
a faint call, like the cry of a child, was heard in the distant forest, upon which the

squad of my landlord fell on all-fours, and crawled cautiously, like cats, through the
short grass and brushwood, in the direction of the sound. The sleepers were quickly
surrounded. The Mandingo gave the signal as soon as the ends of the two parties met
and completed the circle; and, in an instant, every one of the runaways, except two,
was in the grasp of a warrior, with a cord around his throat. Fourteen captives were
brought into camp. The eldest of the party alleged that they belonged to the chief of
Tamisso, a town on our path to Timbo, and were bound to the coast for sale. On their
way to the foreign factories, which they were exceedingly anxious to reach, their
owner died, so that they came under the control of his brother, who threatened to
change their destination, and sell them in the interior. In consequence of this they fled;
and, as their master would surely slay them if restored to Tamisso, they besought us
with tears not to take them thither.
Another council was called, for we were touched by the earnest manner of the
negroes. Ali-Ninpha and the Fullah were of opinion that the spoil was fairly ours, and
should be divided in proportion to the men in both parties. Yet, as our road passed by
the objectionable town, it was impossible to carry the slaves along, either in justice to
ourselves or them. In this strait, which puzzled the Africans sorely, I came to their
relief, by suggesting their dispatch to my factory with orders for the payment of their
value in merchandise.
The proposal was quickly assented to as the most feasible, and our fourteen captives
were at once divided into two gangs, of seven each. Hoops of bamboo were soon
clasped round their waists, while their hands were tied by stout ropes to the hoops. A
long tether was then passed with a slip-knot through each rattan belt, so that the slaves
were firmly secured to each other, while a small coil was employed to link them more
securely in a band by their necks. These extreme precautions were needed, because we
dared not diminish our party to guard the gang. Indeed, Ali-Ninpha was only allowed
the two interpreters and four of my armed people as his escort to Kya, where, it was
agreed, he should deliver the captives to Ibrahim, to be forwarded to my factory, while
he hastened to rejoin us at the river Sanghu, where we designed tarrying.
For three days we journeyed through the forest, passing occasionally along the beds of
dried-up streams and across lonely tracts of wood which seemed never to have been
penetrated, save by the solitary path we were treading. As we were anxious to be
speedily reunited with our companions, our steps were not hastened; so that, at the end
of the third day, we had not advanced more than thirty miles from the scene of
capture, when we reached a small Mandingo village, recently built by an upstart
trader, who, with the common envy and pride of his tribe, gave our Fullah caravan a
frigid reception. A single hut was assigned to the chief and myself for a dwelling, and
the rage of the Mahometan may readily be estimated by an insult that would doom
him to sleep beneath the same roof with a Christian!

I endeavored to avert an outburst by apprising the Mandingo that I was a bosom friend
of Ali-Ninpha, his countryman and superior, and begged that he would suffer the
“head-man” of our caravan to dwell in a house alone. But the impudent parvenu
sneered at my advice; “he knew no such person as Ali-Ninpha, and cared not a snap of
his finger for a Fullah chief, or a beggarly white man!”
My body-servant was standing by when this tart reply fell from the Mandingo’s lips,
and, before I could stop the impetuous youth, he answered the trader with as gross an
insult as an African can utter. To this the Mandingo replied by a blow over the boy’s
shoulders with the flat of a cutlass; and, in a twinkling, there was a general shout for
“rescue” from all my party who happened to witness the scene. Fullahs, Mandingoes,
and Soosoos dashed to the spot, with spears, guns, and arrows. The Fullah chief seized
my double-barrelled gun and followed the crowd; and when he reached the spot,
seeing the trader still waving his cutlass in a menacing manner, he pulled both triggers
at the inhospitable savage. Fortunately, however, it was always my custom on arriving
in friendly towns, to remove the copper caps from my weapons, so that, when the
hammers fell, the gun was silent. Before the Fullah could club the instrument and
prostrate the insulter, I rushed between them to prevent murder. This I was happy
enough to succeed in; but I could not deter the rival tribe from binding the brute, hand
and foot, to a post in the centre of his town, while the majority of our caravan cleared
the settlement at once of its fifty or sixty inhabitants.
Of course, we appropriated the dwellings as we pleased, and supplied ourselves with
provisions. Moreover, it was thought preferable to wait in this village for Ali-Ninpha,
than to proceed onwards towards the borders of the Sanghu. When he arrived, on the
second day after the sad occurrence, he did not hesitate to exercise the prerogative of
judgment and condemnation always claimed by superior chiefs over inferiors,
whenever they consider themselves slighted or wronged. The process in this case was
calmly and humanely formed. A regular trial was allowed the culprit. He was
arraigned on three charges:—1. Want of hospitality; 2. Cursing and maltreating a
Fullah chief and a white Mongo; 3. Disrespect to the name and authority of his
countryman and superior, Ali-Ninpha. On all these articles the prisoner was found
guilty; but, as there were neither slaves nor personal property by which the ruffian
could be mulcted for his crimes, the tribunal adjudged him to be scourged with fifty
lashes, and to have his “town-fence or stockade destroyed, never to be rebuilt.” The
blows were inflicted for the abuse, but the perpetual demolition of his defensive
barrier was in punishment for refused hospitality. Such is the summary process by
which social virtues are inculcated and enforced among these interior tribes of Africa!

It required three days for our refreshed caravan to reach the dry and precipitous bed of
the Sanghu, which I found impossible to pass with my horse, in consequence of
jagged rocks and immense boulders that covered its channel. But the men were
resolved that my convenient animal should not be left behind. Accordingly, all hands
went to work with alacrity on the trees, and in a day, they bridged the ravine with logs
bound together by ropes made from twisted bark. Across this frail and swaying fabric
I urged the horse with difficulty; but hardly had he reached the opposite bank, and
recovered from his nervous tremor, when I was surprised by an evident anxiety in the
beast to return to his swinging pathway. The guides declared it to be an instinctive
warning of danger from wild beasts with which the region is filled; and, even while
we spoke, two of the scouts who were in advance selecting ground for our camp,
returned with the carcasses of a deer and leopard. Though meat had not passed our
lips for five days, we were in no danger of starvation; the villages teemed with fruits
and vegetables. Pine-apples, bananas, and a pulpy globe resembling the peach in form
and flavor, quenched our thirst and satisfied our hunger.
Besides these, our greedy natives foraged in the wilderness for nourishment unknown,
or at least unused, by civilized folks. They found comfort in barks of various trees, as
well as in buds, berries, and roots, some of which they devoured raw, while others
were either boiled or made into palatable decoctions with water that gurgled from
every hill. The broad valleys and open country supplied animal and vegetable
“delicacies” which a white man would pass unnoticed. Many a time, when I was as
hungry as a wolf, I found my vagabonds in a nook of the woods, luxuriating over a
mess with the unctuous lips of aldermen; but when I came to analyze the stew, I
generally found it to consist of a “witch’s cauldron,” copiously filled with snails,
lizards, iguanas, frogs and alligators!

CHAPTER XX.
A journey to the interior of Africa would be a rural jaunt, were it not so often
endangered by the perils of war. The African may fairly be characterized as a
shepherd, whose pastoral life is varied by a little agriculture, and the conflicts into
which he is seduced, either by family quarrels, or the natural passions of his blood.
His country, though uncivilized, is not so absolutely wild as is generally supposed.
The gradual extension of Mahometanism throughout the interior is slowly but
evidently modifying the Negro. An African Mussulman is still a warrior, for the
dissemination of faith as well as for the gratification of avarice; yet the Prophet’s laws
are so much more genial than the precepts of paganism, that, within the last half
century, the humanizing influence of the Koran is acknowledged by all who are
acquainted with the interior tribes.
But in all the changes that may come over the spirit of man in Africa, her magnificent
external nature will for ever remain the game. A little labor teems with vast returns.
The climate exacts nothing but shade from the sun and shelter from the storm. Its
oppressive heat forbids a toilsome industry, and almost enforces indolence as a law.
With every want supplied, without the allurements of social rivalry, without the
temptations of national ambition or personal pride, what has the African to do in his
forest of palm and cocoa,—his grove of orange, pomegranate and fig,—on his mat of
comfortable repose, where the fruit stoops to his lips without a struggle for the prize,
—save to brood over, or gratify, the electric passions with which his soul seems
charged to bursting!
It is an interesting task to travel through a continent filled with such people, whose
minds are just beginning, here and there, to emerge from the vilest heathenism, and to
glimmer with a faith that bears wrapped in its unfolded leaves, the seeds of a modified
civilization.

As I travelled in the “dry season,” I did not encounter many of the discomforts that
beset the African wayfarer in periods of rain and tempest. I was not obliged to
flounder through lagoons, or swim against the current of perilous rivers. We met their
traces almost every day; and, in many places, the soil was worn into parched ravines
or the tracks of dried-up torrents. Whatever affliction I experienced arose from the
wasting depression of heat. We did not suffer from lack of water or food, for the
caravan of the Ali-Mami commanded implicit obedience throughout our journey.

In the six hundred miles I traversed, whilst absent from the coast, my memory, after
twenty-six years, leads me, from beginning to end, through an almost continuous
forest-path. We struck a trail when we started, and we left it when we came home. It
was rare, indeed, to encounter a cross road, except when it led to neighboring villages,
water, or cultivated fields. So dense was the forest foliage, that we often walked for
hours in shade without a glimpse of the sun. The emerald light that penetrated the
wood, bathed every thing it touched with mellow refreshment. But we were repaid for
this partial bliss by intense suffering when we came forth from the sanctuary into the
bare valleys, the arid barrancas, and marshy savannas of an open region. There, the
red eye of the African sun glared with merciless fervor. Every thing reflected its rays.
They struck us like lances from above, from below, from the sides, from the rocks,
from the fields, from the stunted herbage, from the bushes. All was glare! Our eyes
seemed to simmer in their sockets. Whenever the path followed the channel of a
brook, whose dried torrents left bare the scorched and broken rocks, our feet fled from
the ravine as from heated iron. Frequently we entered extensive prairies, covered with
blades of sword-grass, tall as our heads, whose jagged edges tore us like saws, though
we protected our faces with masks of wattled willows. And yet, after all these
discomforts, how often are my dreams haunted by charming pictures of natural
scenery that have fastened themselves for ever in my memory!
As the traveller along the coast turns the prow of his canoe through the surf, and
crosses the angry bar that guards the mouth of an African river, he suddenly finds
himself moving calmly onward between sedgy shores, buried in mangroves. Presently,
the scene expands in the unruffled mirror of a deep, majestic stream. Its lofty banks
are covered by innumerable varieties of the tallest forest trees, from whoso summits a
trailing network of vines and flowers floats down and sweeps the passing current. A
stranger who beholds this scenery for the first time is struck by the immense size, the
prolific abundance, and gorgeous verdure of every thing. Leaves, large enough for
garments, lie piled and motionless in the lazy air: The bamboo and cane shake their
slender spears and pennant leaves as the stream ripples among their roots. Beneath the
massive trunks of forest trees, the country opens; and, in vistas through the wood, the
traveller sees innumerable fields lying fallow in grass, or waving with harvests of rice
and cassava, broken by golden clusters of Indian corn. Anon, groups of oranges,
lemons, coffee-trees, plantains and bananas, are crossed by the tall stems of cocoas,
and arched by the broad and drooping coronals of royal palm. Beyond this, capping
the summit of a hill, may be seen the conical huts of natives, bordered by fresh
pastures dotted with flocks of sheep and goats, or covered by numbers of the sleekest
cattle. As you leave the coast, and shoot round the river-curves of this fragrant
wilderness teeming with flowers, vocal with birds, and gay with their radiant
plumage, you plunge into the interior, where the rising country slowly expands into
hills and mountains.

The forest is varied. Sometimes it is a matted pile of tree vine, and bramble, obscuring
every thing, and impervious save with knife and hatchet. At others, it is a Gothic
temple. The sward spreads openly for miles on every side, while, from its even
surface, the trunks of straight and massive trees rise to a prodigious height, clear from
every obstruction, till their gigantic limbs, like the capitals of columns, mingle their
foliage in a roof of perpetual verdure.
At length the hills are reached, and the lowland heat is tempered by mountain
freshness. The scene that may be beheld from almost any elevation, is always
beautiful, and sometimes grand. Forest, of course, prevails; yet, with a glass, and often
by the unaided eye, gentle hills, swelling from the wooded landscape, may be seen
covered with native huts, whose neighborhood is checkered with patches of sward and
cultivation, and inclosed by massive belts of primeval wildness. Such is commonly
the westward view; but north and east, as far as vision extends, noble outlines of hill
and mountain may be traced against the sky, lapping each other with their mighty
folds, until they fade away in the azure horizon.
When a view like this is beheld at morning, in the neighborhood of rivers, a dense
mist will be observed lying beneath the spectator in a solid stratum, refracting the
light now breaking from the east. Here and there, in this lake of vapor, the tops of hills
peer up like green islands in a golden sea. But, ere you have time to let fancy run riot,
the “cloud compelling” orb lifts its disc over the mountains, and the fogs of the valley,
like ghosts at cock-crow, flit from the dells they have haunted since nightfall.
Presently, the sun is out in his terrible splendor. Africa unveils to her master, and the
blue sky and green forest blaze and quiver with his beams.

CHAPTER XXI.
I felt so much the lack of scenery in my narrative, that I thought it well to group in a
few pages the African pictures I have given in the last chapter. My story had too much
of the bareness of the Greek stage, and I was conscious that landscape, as well as
action, was required to mellow the subject and relieve it from tedium. After our dash
through the wilderness, let us return to the slow toil of the caravan.
Four days brought us to Tamisso from our last halt. We camped on the copious brook
that ran near the town-walls, and while Ali-Ninpha thought proper to compliment the
chief, Mohamedoo, by a formal announcement of our arrival, the caravan made ready
for reception by copious, but needed, ablutions of flesh and raiment. The women,
especially, were careful in adorning and heightening their charms. Wool was combed
to its utmost rigidity; skins were greased till they shone like polished ebony; ankles
and arms were restrung with beads; and loins were girded with snowy waist-cloths.
Ali-Ninpha knew the pride of his old Mandingo companions, and was satisfied that
Mohamedoo would have been mortified had we surprised him within the precincts of
his court, squatted, perhaps, on a dirty mat with a female scratching his head! Ali-
Ninpha was a prudent gentleman, and knew the difference between the private and
public lives of his illustrious countrymen!
In the afternoon our interpreters returned to camp with Mohamedoo’s son,
accompanied by a dozen women carrying platters of boiled rice, calabashes filled with
delicate sauce, and abundance of ture, or vegetable butter. A beautiful horse was also
despatched for my triumphal entry into town.
The food was swallowed with an appetite corresponding to our recent penitential fare;
the tents were struck; and the caravan was forthwith advanced towards Tamisso. All
the noise we could conveniently make, by way of music, was, of course, duly
attempted. Interpreters and guides went ahead, discharging guns. Half a dozen tom-
toms were struck with uncommon rapidity and vigor, while the unctuous women set
up a chorus of melody that would not have disgraced a band of “Ethiopian Minstrels.”
Half-way to the town our turbulent mob was met by a troop of musicians sent out by
the chief to greet us with song and harp. I was quickly surrounded by the singers, who
chanted the most fulsome praise of the opulent Mongo, while a court-fool or buffoon
insisted on leading my horse, and occasionally wiping my face with his filthy
handkerchief!
Presently we reached the gates, thronged by pressing crowds of curious burghers.
Men, women, and children, had all come abroad to see the immense Furtoo, or white

man, and appeared as much charmed by the spectacle as if I had been a banished
patriot. I was forced to dismount at the low wicket, but here the empressement of my
inquisitive hosts became so great, that the “nation’s guest” was forced to pause until
some amiable bailiffs modified the amazement of their fellow-citizens by staves and
whips.
I lost no time in the lull, while relieved from the mob, to pass onward to “the palace”
of Mohamedoo, which, like all royal residences in Africa, consisted of a mud-walled
quadrangular inclosure, with a small gate, a large court, and a quantity of adobe huts,
surrounded by shady verandahs. The furniture, mats, and couches were of cane, while
wooden platters, brass kettles, and common wash-basins, were spread out in every
direction for show and service.
On a coach, covered with several splendid leopard skins, reclined Mohamedoo,
awaiting my arrival with as much stateliness as if he had been a scion of civilized
royalty. The chief was a man of sixty at least. His corpulent body was covered with
short Turkish trousers, and a large Mandingo shirt profusely embroidered with red and
yellow worsted. His bald or shaved head was concealed by a light turban, while a long
white beard stood out in relief against his tawny skin, and hung down upon his breast.
Ali-Ninpha presented me formally to this personage, who got up, shook hands,
“snapped fingers,” and welcomed me thrice. My Fullah chief and Mandingo
companion then proceeded to “make their dantica,” or declare the purpose of their
visit; but when they announced that I was the guest of the Fullah Ali-Mami, and,
accordingly, was entitled to free passage every where without expense, I saw that the
countenance of the veteran instantly fell, and that his welcome was dashed by the loss
of a heavy duty which he designed exacting for my transit.
The sharp eye of Ali-Ninpha was not slow in detecting Mohamedoo’s displeasure;
and, as I had previously prepared him in private, he took an early opportunity to
whisper in the old man’s ear, that Don Téodore knew he was compelled to journey
through Tamisso, and, of course, had not come empty-handed. My object, he said, in
visiting this region and the territory of the Fullah king, was not idle curiosity alone;
but that I was prompted by a desire for liberal trade, and especially for the purchase of
slaves to load the numerous vessels I had lingering on the coast, with immense
cargoes of cloth, muskets, and powder.
The clouds were dispersed as soon as a hint was thrown out about traffic. The old
sinner nodded like a mandarin who knew what he was about, and, rising as soon as the
adroit whisperer had finished, took me by the hand, and in a loud voice, presented me
to the people as his “beloved son!” Besides this, the best house within the royal
inclosure was fitted with fresh comforts for my lodging. When the Fullah chief
withdrew from the audience, Ali-Ninpha brought in the mistress of Mohamedoo’s
harem, who acted as his confidential clerk, and we speedily handed over the six pieces

of cotton and an abundant supply of tobacco with which I designed to propitiate her
lord and master.
Tired of the dust, crowd, heat, confinement and curiosity of an African town, I was
glad to gulp down my supper of broiled chickens and milk, preparatory to a sleepy
attack on my couch of rushes spread with mats and skins. Yet, before retiring for the
night, I thought it well to refresh my jaded frame by a bath, which the prince had
ordered to be prepared in a small court behind my chamber. But I grieve to say, that
my modesty was put to a sore trial, when I began to unrobe. Locks and latches are
unknown in this free-and-easy region. It had been noised abroad among the dames of
the harem, that the Furtoo would probably perform his ablutions before he slept; so
that, when I entered the yard, my tub was surrounded by as many inquisitive eyes as
the dinner table of Louis the Fourteenth, when sovereigns dined in public. As I could
not speak their language, I made all the pantomimic signs of graceful supplication that
commonly soften the hearts of the sex on the stage, hoping, by dumb-show, to secure
my privacy. But gestures and grimace were unavailing. I then made hold to take off
my shirt, leaving my nether garments untouched. Hitherto, the dames had seen only
my bronzed face and hands, but when the snowy pallor of my breast and back was
unveiled, many of them fled incontinently, shouting to their friends to “come and see
the peeled Furtoo!” An ancient crone, the eldest of the crew, ran her hand roughly
across the fairest portion of my bosom, and looking at her fingers with disgust, as if I
reeked with leprosy, wiped them on the wall. As displeasure seemed to predominate
over admiration, I hoped this experiment would have satisfied the inquest, but, as
black curiosity exceeds all others, the wenches continued to linger, chatter, grin and
feel, until I was forced to disappoint their anxiety for further disclosures, by an abrupt
“good night.”
We tarried in Tamisso three days to recruit, during which I was liberally entertained on
the prince’s hospitable mat, where African stews of relishing flavor, and tender fowls
smothered in snowy rice, regaled me at least twice in every twenty-four hours.
Mohamedoo fed me with an European silver spoon, which, he said, came from among
the effects of a traveller who, many years before, died far in the interior. In all his life,
he had seen but four of our race within the walls of Tamisso. Their names escaped his
memory; but the last, he declared, was a poor and clever youth, probably from
Senegal, who followed a powerful caravan, and “read the Koran like a mufti.”
Tamisso was entirely surrounded by a tall double fence of pointed posts. The space
betwixt the inclosures, which were about seven feet apart, was thickly planted with
smaller spear-headed staves, hardened by fire. If the first fence was leaped by
assailants, they met a cruel reception from those impaling sentinels. Three gates
afforded admission to different sections of the town, but the passage through them
consisted of zig-zags, with loopholes cut judiciously in the angles, so as to command
every point of access to the narrow streets of the suburbs.

The parting between Mohamedoo and myself was friendly in the extreme. Provisions
for four days were distributed by the prince to the caravan, and he promised that my
return should be welcomed by an abundant supply of slaves.

CHAPTER XXII.
As our caravan approached the Fullah country, and got into the higher lands, where
the air was invigorating, I found its pace improved so much that we often exceeded
twenty miles in our daily journey. The next important place we were to approach was
Jallica. For three days, our path coasted the southern edge of a mountain range, whose
declivities and valleys were filled with rivers, brooks, and streamlets, affording
abundant irrigation to fields teeming with vegetable wealth. The population was
dense. Frequent caravans, with cattle and slaves, passed us on their way to various
marts. Our supplies of food were plentiful. A leaf of tobacco purchased a fowl; a
charge of powder obtained a basin of milk, or a dozen of eggs; and a large sheep cost
only six cents, or a quart of salt.
Five days after quitting Tamisso, our approach to Jallica was announced; and here, as
at our last resting-place, it was deemed proper to halt half a day for notice and
ablution before entering a city, whose chief—Suphiana—was a kinsman of Ali-
Ninpha.
The distance from our encampment to the town was about three miles; but an hour had
hardly elapsed after our arrival, when the deep boom of the war-drum gave token that
our message had been received with welcome. I was prepared, in some measure, for a
display of no ordinary character at Jallica, because my Mandingo friend, Ali-Ninpha,
inhabited the town in his youth, and had occupied a position which gave importance
to his name throughout Soolimana. The worthy fellow had been absent many years
from Jallica, and wept like a child when he heard the sound of the war-drum. Its
discordant beat had the same effect on the savage that the sound of their village bells
has on the spirit of returning wanderers in civilized lands. When the rattle of the drum
was over, he told me that for five years he controlled that very instrument in Jallica,
during which it had never sounded a retreat or betokened disaster. In peace it was
never touched, save for public rejoicing; and the authorities allowed it to be beaten
now only because an old commander of the tribe was to be received with the honors
due to his rank and service. Whilst we were still conversing, Suphiana’s lance-bearer
made his appearance, and, with a profound salaam, announced that the “gates of
Jallica were open to the Mandingo and his companions.”
No fanda or refreshments were sent with the welcome; but when the caravan got
within fifty yards of the walls, a band of shouting warriors marched forth, and lifting
Ali-Ninpha on their shoulders, bore him through the gates, singing war-songs,
accompanied by all sorts of music and hubbub.

I had purposely lingered with my men in the rear of the great body of Africans, so that
nearly the whole caravan passed the portal before my complexion—though deeply
bronzed by exposure—made me known to the crowd as a white man.
Then, instantly, the air rang with the sound of—“Furtoo! Furtoo! Furtoo!”—and the
gate was slammed in our faces, leaving us completely excluded from guide and
companions. But, in the midst of his exultant reception, Ali-Ninpha did not forget the
Mongo of Kambia. Hardly had he attained the end of the street, when he heard the cry
of exclusion, and observed the closing portal. By this time, my Fullah friend had
wrought himself into an examplary fit of Oriental rage with the inhospitable
Mandingoes, so that I doubt very much whether he would not have knocked the dust
from his sandals on the gate of Jallica, had not Ali-Ninpha rushed through the wicket,
and commanding the portal to be reopened, apologized contritely to the Mahometan
and myself.
This unfortunate mistake, or accident, not only caused considerable delay, but rather
dampened the delight of our party as it defiled in the spacious square of Jallica, and
entered the open shed which was called a “palaver-house.” Its vast area was densely
packed with a fragrant crowd of old and young, armed with muskets or spears. All
wore knives or cutlasses, slung by a belt high up on their necks; while, in their midst
surrounded by a court of veterans, stood Suphiana, the prince, waiting our arrival.
In front marched Ali-Ninpha, preceded by a numerous band of shrieking and twanging
minstrels. As he entered the apartment, Suphiana arose, drew his sword, and
embracing the stranger with his left arm, waved the shining blade over his head, with
the other. This peculiar accolade was imitated by each member of the royal council;
while, in the centre of the square, the war-drum,—a hollowed tree, four feet in
diameter, covered with hides,—was beaten by two savages with slung-shot, until its
thundering reverberations completely deafened us.
You may imagine my joy and comfort when I saw the Mandingo take a seat near the
prince, as a signal for the din’s cessation. This, however, was only the commencement
of another prolonged ceremonial; for now began the royal review and salute in honor
of the returned commander. During two hours, an uninterrupted procession of all the
warriors, chiefs, and head-men of Jallica, defiled in front of the ancient drum-major;
and, as each approached, he made his obeisance by pointing a spear or weapon at my
landlord’s feet. During this I remained on horseback without notice or relief from the
authorities. Ali-Ninpha, however, saw my impatient discomfort, and once or twice
despatched a sly message to preserve my good humor. The ceremony was one of
absolute compulsion, and could not be avoided without discourtesy to the prince and
his countrymen. As soon as he could escape, however, he hastened over the court-yard
to assist me in dismounting; and dashing the rude crowd right and left, led me to his
kinsman Suphiana. The prince extended his royal hand in token of amity; Ali-Ninpha

declared me to be his “son;” while the long string of compliments and panegyrics he
pronounced upon my personal qualities, moral virtues, and wealth, brought down a
roar of grunts by way of applause from the toad-eating courtiers.

Jallica was a fairer town than any I had hitherto encountered in my travels. Its streets
were wider, its houses better, its people more civil. No one intruded on the friend of
Ali-Ninpha, and guest of Suphiana. I bathed without visits from inquisitive females.
My house was my castle; and, when I stirred abroad, two men preceded me with
rattans to keep my path clear from women and children.
After lounging about quietly for a couple of days, wearing away fatigue, and getting
rid of the stains of travel, I thought it advisable to drop in one morning, unannounced,
after breakfast, at Suphiana’s with the presents that are customary in the east. As the
guest,—during my whole journey,—of the Ali-Mami, or King of Footha-Yallon, I was
entirely exempt by customary law from this species of tax, nor would my Fullah
protector have allowed me to offer a tribute had he known it;—yet, I always took a
secret opportunity to present a voluntary gift, for I wished my memory to smell sweet
along my track in Africa. Suphiana fully appreciated my generosity under the
circumstances, and returned the civility by an invitation to dinner at the house of his
principal wife. When the savory feast with which he regaled me was over, female
singers were introduced for a concert. Their harps were triangles of wood, corded with
fibres of cane; their banjoes consisted of gourds covered with skin pierced by holes,
and strung like the harps; but, I confess, that I can neither rave nor go into ecstasies
over the combined effect which saluted me from such instruments or such voices. I
was particularly struck, however, by one of their inventions, which slightly resembles
the harmonica I have seen played by children in this country. A board, about two feet
square, was bordered by a light frame at two ends, across which a couple of cane
strings were tightly stretched. On these, strips of nicely trimmed bamboo, gradually
diminishing in size from left to right, were placed; whilst beneath them, seven gourds,
also gradually decreasing, were securely fastened to mellow the sound. The
instrument was carried by a strap round the player’s neck, and was struck by two
small wooden hammers softened by some delicate substance.
One of the prettiest girls in the bevy had charge of this African piano, and was said to
be renowned for uncommon skill. Her feet, hands, wrists, elbows, ankles, and knees,
were strung with small silvery bells; and, as the gay damsel was dancer and singer as
well as musician, she seemed to reek with sound from every pore. Many of her
attitudes would probably have been, at least, more picturesque and decent for drapery;
but, in Jallica, Madoo, the ayah, was considered a Mozart in composition, a Lind in
melody, and a Taglioni on the “light fantastic toe!”

When the performance closed, Suphiana presented her a slave; and, as she made an
obeisance to me in passing, I handed her my bowie-knife, promising to redeem it at
my lodgings with ten pounds of tobacco!

Some superstitious notions about the state of the moon prevented my Fullah guide
from departing as soon as I desired; but while we were dallying with the planet, Ali-
Ninpha became so ill that he was compelled to halt and end the journey in his favorite
Jallica. I rather suspected the Mandingo to feign more suffering than he really
experienced, and I soon discovered that his malady was nothing but a sham. In truth,
Ali-Ninpha had duped so many Fullah traders on the beach, and owed them the value
of so many slaves, that he found it extremely inconvenient; if not perilous, to enter the
domain of the Ali-Mami of Footha-Yallon!

CHAPTER XXIII.
A messenger was despatched from Jallica, in advance of our departure, to announce
our approach to Timbo. For six days more, our path led over hill and dale, and through
charming valleys, fed by gentle streamlets that nourished the vigorous vegetation of a
mountain land.
As we crossed the last summits that overlooked the territory of Footha-Yallon, a broad
plateau, whence a wide range of country might be beheld, was filled with bands of
armed men, afoot and on horseback, while a dozen animals were held in tether by
their gayly dressed attendants. I dashed to the head of the caravan on my jaded beast,
and reached it just in time to find the sable arms of Ahmah-de-Bellah opening to greet
me! The generous youth, surrounded by his friends and escorted by a select corps of
soldiers and slaves, had come thus far on the path to offer the prince’s welcome!
I greeted the Mahometan with the fervor of ancient love; and, in a moment, we were
all dismounted and on our knees; while, at a signal from the chief, profound silence
reigned throughout the troop and caravan. Every eye was turned across the distant
plain to the east. An air of profoundest devotion subdued the multitude, and, in a loud
chant, Ahmah-de-Bellah, with outstretched arms and upraised face, sang forth a psalm
of gratitude to Allah for the safety of his “brother.”
The surprise of this complimentary reception was not only delightful as an evidence of
African character among these more civilized tribes of the Mahometan interior, but it
gave me an assurance of security and trade, which was very acceptable to one so far
within the bowels of the land. We were still a day’s journey from the capital. Ahmah-
de-Bellah declared it impossible, with all the diligence we could muster, to reach
Timbo without another halt. Nevertheless, as he was extremely solicitous to bring us
to our travel’s end, he not only supplied my personal attendants with fresh horses, but
ordered carriers from his own guard to charge themselves with the entire luggage of
our caravan.
Thus relieved of burden, our party set forth on the path in a brisk trot, and resting after
dark for several hours in a village, we entered Timbo unceremoniously before
daybreak while its inhabitants were still asleep.
I was immediately conducted to a house specially built for me, surrounded by a high
wall to protect my privacy from intrusion. Within, I found a careful duplicate of all the
humble comforts in my domicil on the Rio Pongo. Tables, sofas, plates, knives, forks,
tumblers, pitchers, basins,—had all been purchased by my friend, and forwarded for
this establishment, from other factories without my knowledge; while the centre of the

main apartment was decorated with an “American rocking-chair,” which the natives
had ingeniously contrived of rattans and bamboo! Such pleasant evidences of refined
attention were more remarkable and delicate, because most of the articles are not used
by Mahometans. “These, I hope,” said Ahmah-de-Bellah, as he led me to a seat, “will
make you comparatively comfortable while you please to dwell with your brother in
Timbo. You have no thanks to return, because I have not treated you like a native
Mussulman; for you were kind enough to remember all my own little nationalities
when I was your guest on the beach. Allah be praised for your redemption and
arrival;—and so, brother, take your rest in peace within the realm of the Ali-Mami,
your father!”
I embraced the generous fellow with as much cordiality as if he had been a kinsman
from the sweet valley of Arno. During his visit to my factory he was particularly
charmed with an old dressing-gown I used for my siestas, and when I resolved on this
journey, I caused an improved copy of it to be made by one of the most skilful artists
on the river. A flashy pattern of calico was duly cut into rather ampler form than is
usual among our dandies. This was charmingly lined with sky-blue, and set off at the
edges with broad bands of glaring yellow. The effect of the whole, indeed, was
calculated to strike an African fancy; so that, when I drew the garment from my
luggage, and threw it, together with a fine white ruffled shirt, over the shoulders of
“my brother,” I thought the pious Mussulman would have gone wild with delight. He
hugged me a dozen times with the gripe of a tiger, and probably would have kissed
quite as lustily, had I not deprecated any further ebullitions of bodily gratitude.
A bath erased not only the dust of travel from my limbs, but seemed to extract even
the memory of its toils from my bones and muscles. Ahmah-de-Bellah intimated that
the Ali-Mami would soon be prepared to receive me without ceremony. The old
gentleman was confined by dropsy in his lower extremities, and probably found it
uncomfortable to sustain the annoyance of public life except when absolutely
necessary. The burden of my entertainment and glorification, therefore, was cast on
the shoulders of his younger kinsfolk, for which, I confess, I was proportionally
grateful. Accordingly, when I felt perfectly refreshed, I arose from my matted sofa,
and dressing for the first time in more than a month in a perfectly clean suit, I donned
a snowy shirt, a pair of dashing drills, Parisian pumps, and a Turkish fez, tipped with a
copious tassel. Our interpreters were clad in fresh Mandingo dresses adorned with
extra embroidery. My body-servant was ordered to appear in a cast-off suit of my
own; so that, when I gave one my double-barrelled gun to carry, and armed the others
with my pistols, and a glittering regulation-sword,—designed as a gift for the Ali-
Mami,—I presented a very respectable and picturesque appearance for a gentleman
abroad on his travels in the East. The moment I issued with my train from the house, a
crowd of Fullahs was ready to receive me with exclamations of chattering surprise;
still I was not annoyed, as elsewhere, by the unfailing concourse that followed my
footsteps or clogged my pathway.

The “palace” of the Ali-Mami of Footha-Yallon, like all African palaces in this region,
was an adobe hovel, surrounded by its portico shed, and protected by a wall from the
intrusion of the common herd. In front of the dwelling, beneath the shelter of the
verandah, on a fleecy pile of sheepskin mats, reclined the veteran, whose swollen and
naked feet were undergoing a cooling process from the palm-leaf fans of female
slaves. I marched up boldly in front of him with my military suite, and, making a
profound salaam, was presented by Ahmah-de-Bellah as his “white brother.” The Ali
at once extended both hands, and, grasping mine, drew me beside him on the
sheepskin. Then, looking intently over my face and into the very depth of my eyes, he
asked gently with a smile—“what was my name?”
“Ahmah-de-Bellah!” replied I, after the fashion of the country. As I uttered the
Mahometan appellation, for which I had exchanged my own with his son at Kambia,
the old man, who still held my hands, put one of his arms round my waist, and pressed
me still closer to his side;—then, lifting both arms extended to heaven, he repeated
several times,—“God is great! God is great! God is great!—and Mahomet is his
Prophet!”
This was followed by a grand inquest in regard to myself and history. Who was my
father? Who was my mother? How many brothers had I? Were they warriors? Were
they “book-men?” Why did I travel so far? What delay would I make in Footha-
Yallon? Was my dwelling comfortable? Had I been treated with honor, respect and
attention on my journey? And, last of all, the prince sincerely hoped that I would find
it convenient to dwell with him during the whole of the “rainy season.”
Several times, in the midst of these interrogations, the patriarch groaned, and I could
perceive, from the pain that flitted like a shadow over the nerves and muscles of his
face, that he was suffering severely, and, of course, I cut the interview as short as
oriental etiquette would allow. He pressed me once more to his bosom, and speaking
to the interpreter, bade him tell his master, the Furtoo, that any thing I fancied in the
realm was mine. Slaves, horses, cattle, stuffs,—all were at my disposal. Then,
pointing to his son, he said: “Ahmah-de-Bellah, the white man is our guest; his
brother will take heed for his wants, and redress every complaint.”
The prince was a man of sixty at least. His stature was noble and commanding, if not
absolutely gigantic,—being several inches over six feet,—while his limbs and bulk
were in perfect proportion. His oval head, of a rich mahogany color, was quite bald to
the temples, and covered by a turban, whose ends depended in twin folds along his
cheeks. The contour of his features was remarkably regular, though his lips were
rather full, and his nose somewhat flat, yet free from the disgusting depression and
cavities of the negro race. His forehead was high and perpendicular, while his mouth
glistened with ivory when he spoke or smiled. I had frequent opportunities to talk with
the king afterwards, and was always delighted by the affectionate simplicity of his

demeanor. As it was the country’s custom to educate the first-born of royalty for the
throne, the Ali-Mami of Footha-Yallon had been brought up almost within the
precincts of the mosque. I found the prince, therefore, more of a meditative “book-
man” than warrior; while the rest of his family, and especially his younger brothers,
had never been exempt from military duties, at home or abroad. Like a good
Mussulman, the sovereign was a quiet, temperate gentleman, never indulging in
“bitters” or any thing stronger than a drink fermented from certain roots, and
sweetened to resemble mead. His intercourse with me was always affable and
solicitous for my comfort; nor did he utter half a dozen sentences without interlarding
them with fluent quotations from the Koran. Sometimes, in the midst of a pleasant
chat in which he was wondering at my curiosity and taste for information about new
lands, he would suddenly break off because it was his hour for prayer; at others, he
would end the interview quite as unceremoniously, because it was time for ablution.
Thus, between praying, washing, eating, sleeping, slave-dealing, and fanning his
dropsical feet, the life of the Ali-Mami passed monotonously enough even for an
oriental prince; but I doubt not, the same childish routine is still religiously pursued,
unless it has pleased Allah to summon the faithful prince to the paradise of “true
believers.” I could never make him understand how a ship might be built large enough
to hold provisions for a six months’ voyage; and, as to the sea, “it was a mystery that
none but God and a white man could solve!”
As I was to breakfast on the day of my arrival at the dwelling of Ahmah-de-Bellah’s
mother, after my presentation to the prince her husband, I urged the footsteps of my
companion with no little impatience as soon as I got out of the royal hearing. My fast
had been rather longer than comfortable, even in obedience to royal etiquette.
However, we were soon within the court-yard of her sable ladyship, who, though a
dame of fifty at least, persisted in hiding her charms of face and bosom beneath a
capacious cloth. Nevertheless, she welcomed me quite tenderly. She called me
“Ahmah-de-Bellah-Theodoree,”—and, with her own hands, mixed the dainties on
which we were to breakfast while cosily squatted on the mats of her verandah. Our
food was simple enough for the most dyspeptic homœopathist. Milk and rice were
alternated with bonney-clabber and honey, seasoned by frequent words of hospitable
encouragement. The frugal repast was washed down by calabashes of cool water,
which were handed round by naked damsels, whose beautiful limbs might have served
as models for an artist.
When the meal was finished, I hoped that the day’s ceremonial was over, but, to my
dismay, I discovered that the most formal portion of my reception was yet to come.
“We will now hasten,” said Ahmah-de-Bellah, as I salaamed his mamma, “to the
palaver-ground, where I am sure our chiefs are, by this time, impatient to see you.”
Had I been a feeble instead of a robust campaigner, I would not have resisted the
intimation, or desired a postponement of the “palaver;” so I “took my brother’s” arm,

and, followed by my cortège, proceeded to the interview that was to take place
beyond the walls, in an exquisite grove of cotton-wood and tamarind-trees,
appropriated to this sort of town-meeting. Here I found a vast assemblage of burghers;
and in their midst, squatted on sheepskins, was a select ring of patres conscripti,
presided by Sulimani-Ali, son of the king, and brother of my companion.
As the Fullah presented me to his warrior-kinsman, he rose with a profound salutation,
and taking my hand, led me to a rock, covered with a white napkin,—the seat of honor
for an eminent stranger. The moment I was placed, the chiefs sprang up and each one
grasped my hand, bidding me welcome thrice. Ahmah-de-Bellah stood patiently
beside me until this ceremony was over, and each noble resumed his sheepskin. Then,
taking a long cane from the eldest of the group, he stepped forward, saluted the
assembly three times, thrice invoked Allah, and introduced me to the chiefs and
multitude as his “brother.” I came, he said, to Footha-Yallon on his invitation, and by
the express consent of his beloved king and father, and of his beloved elder brother,
Sulimani. He hoped, therefore, that every “head-man” present would see the rites of
hospitality faithfully exercised to his white brother while he dwelt in Footha. There
were many reasons that he could give why this should be done; but he would rest
content with stating only three. First of all: I was nearly as good a Mussulman as
many Mandingoes, and he knew the fact, because he had converted me himself!
Secondly: I was entitled to every sort of courtesy from Fullahs, because I was a rich
trader from the Rio Pongo. And, thirdly: I had penetrated even to this very heart of
Africa to purchase slaves for most liberal prices.
It is the custom in African “palavers,” as well as among African religionists, to give
token of assent by a sigh, a groan, a slight exclamation, or a shout, when any thing
affecting, agreeable, or touching is uttered by a speaker. Now, when my Fullah brother
informed his friends of my arrival, my name, my demand for hospitality, and my
wealth, the grunts and groans of the assembly augmented in number and volume as he
went on; but when they heard of my design “to purchase slaves” a climax was reached
at once, and, as with one voice, they shouted, “May the Lord of heaven be praised!”
I smothered a laugh and strangled a smile as well as I could, when my interpreters
expounded the “stump speech” of Ahmah-de-Bellah; and I lost no time in directing
them to display the presents which some of my retainers, in the meanwhile, had
brought to the grove. They consisted of several packages of blue and white calicoes,
ten yards of brilliant scarlet cloth, six kegs of powder, three hundred pounds of
tobacco, two strings of amber beads, and six muskets. On a beautiful rug, I set aside
the gilded sword and a package of cantharides, designed for the king.
When my arrangement was over, Sulimani took the cane from his brother, and
stepping forward, said that the gifts to which he pointed proved the truth of Ahmah-
de-Bellah’s words, and that a rich man, indeed, had come to Footha-Yallon. Nay,

more;—the rich man wanted slaves! Was I not generous? I was their guest, and owed
them no tribute or duties; and yet, had I not voluntarily lavished my presents upon the
chiefs? Next day, his father would personally distribute my offering; but, whilst I
dwelt in Footha, a bullock and ten baskets of rice should daily be furnished for my
caravan’s support; and, as every chief would partake my bounty, each one should
contribute to my comfort.
This speech, like the former, was hailed with grunts; but I could not help noticing that
the vote of supplies was not cheered half as lustily as the announcement of my
largesse.
The formalities being over, the inquisitive head-men crowded round the presents with
as much eagerness as aspirants for office at a presidential inauguration. The
merchandise was inspected, felt, smelled, counted, measured, and set aside. The rug
and the sword, being royal gifts, were delicately handled. But when the vials of
cantharides were unpacked, and their contents announced, each of the chieftains
insisted that his majesty should not monopolize the coveted stimulant. A sharp dispute
on the subject arose between the princes and the councillors, so that I was forced to
interfere through the interpreters, who could only quiet the rebels by the promise of a
dozen additional flasks for their private account.
In the midst of the wrangling, Sulimani and Ahmah ordered their father’s slaves to
carry the gifts to the Ali-Mami’s palace; and, taking me between them, we marched,
arm in arm, to my domicil. Here I found Abdulmomen-Ali, another son of the king,
waiting for his brothers to present him to the Mongo of Kambia. Abdulmomen was
introduced as “a learned divine,” and began at once to talk Koran in the most mufti-
like manner. I had made such sorry improvement in Mahometanism since Ahmah-de-
Bellah’s departure from the Rio Pongo, that I thought it safest to sit silent, as if under
the deepest fervor of Mussulman conviction. I soon found that Abdulmomen, like
many more clergymen, was willing enough to do all the preaching, whenever he found
an unresisting listener. I put on a look of very intelligent assent and thankfulness to all
the arguments and commentaries of my black brother, and in this way I avoided the
detection of my ignorance, as many a better man has probably done before me!

CHAPTER XXIV.
Timbo lies on a rolling plain. North of it, a lofty mountain range rises at the distance
of ten or fifteen miles, and sweeps eastwardly to the horizon. The landscape, which
declines from these slopes to the south, is in many places bare; yet fields of plentiful
cultivation, groves of cotton-wood, tamarind and oak, thickets of shrubbery and
frequent villages, stud its surface, and impart an air of rural comfort to the picturesque
scene.
I soon proposed a gallop with my African kindred over the neighborhood; and, one
fine morning, after a plentiful breakfast of stewed fowls, boiled to rags with rice, and
seasoned with delicious “palavra sauce,” we cantered off to the distant villages. As we
approached the first brook, but before the fringe of screening bushes was passed, our
cavalcade drew rein abruptly, while Ahmah-de-Bellah cried out: “Strangers are
coming!” A few moments after, as we slowly crossed the stream, I noticed several
women crouched in the underwood, having fled from the bath. This warning is
universally given, and enforced by law, to guard the modesty of the gentler sex.
In half an hour we reached the first suburban village; but fame had preceded us with
my character, and as the settlement was cultivated either by serfs or negroes liable to
be made so, we found the houses bare. The poor wretches had learned, on the day of
my reception, that the principal object of my journey was to obtain slaves, and, of
course, they imagined that the only object of my foray in their neighborhood, was to
seize the gang and bear it abroad in bondage. Accordingly, we tarried only a few
minutes in Findo, and dashed off to Furo; but here, too, the blacks had been panic
struck, and escaped so hurriedly that they left their pots of rice, vegetables, and meat
boiling in their sheds. Furo was absolutely stripped of inhabitants; the veteran chief of
the village did not even remain to do the honors for his affrighted brethren. Ahmah-
de-Bellah laughed heartily at the terror I inspired; but I confess I could not help
feeling sadly mortified when I found my presence shunned as a pestilence.
The native villages through which I passed on this excursion manifested the great
comfort in which these Africans live throughout their prolific land, when unassailed
by the desolating wars that are kept up for slave-trade. It was the height of the dry
season, when every thing was parched by the sun, yet I could trace the outlines of fine
plantations, gardens, and rice-fields. Every where I found abundance of peppers,
onions, garlic, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, and cassava; while tasteful fences were
garlanded with immense vines and flowers. Fowls, goats, sheep, and oxen, stalked
about in innumerable flocks, and from every domicil depended a paper, inscribed with
a charm from the Koran to keep off thieves and witches.

My walks through Timbo were promoted by the constant efforts of my entertainers to
shield me from intrusive curiosity. Whenever I sallied forth, two townsfolk in
authority were sent forward to warn the public that the Furtoo desired to promenade
without a mob at his heels. These lusty criers stationed themselves at the corners with
an iron triangle, which they rattled to call attention to the king’s command; and, in a
short time, the highways were so clear of people, who feared a bastinado, that I found
my loneliness rather disagreeable than otherwise. Every person I saw, shunned me.
When I called the children or little girls,—they fled from me. My reputation as a
slaver in the villages, and the fear of a lash in the town, furnished me much more
solitude than is generally agreeable to a sensitive traveller.
Towards nightfall I left my companions, and wrapping myself closely in a Mandingo
dress, stole away through bye-ways to a brook which runs by the town-walls. Thither
the females resort at sunset to draw water; and, choosing a screened situation, where I
would not be easily observed, I watched, for more than an hour, the graceful children,
girls, and women of Timbo, as they performed this domestic task of eastern lands.
I was particularly impressed by the general beauty of the sex, who, in many respects,
resembled the Moor rather than the negro. Unaware of a stranger’s presence, they
came forth as usual in a simple dress which covers their body from waist to knee, and
leaves the rest of the figure entirely naked. Group after group gathered together on the
brink of the brook in the slanting sunlight and lengthening shadows of the plain. Some
rested on their pitchers and water vessels; some chatted, or leaned on each other
gracefully, listening to the chat of friends; some stooped to fill their jars; others lifted
the brimming vessels to their sisters’ shoulders—while others strode homeward
singing, with their charged utensils poised on head or hand. Their slow, stately,
swinging movement under the burden, was grace that might be envied on a Spanish
paseo. I do not think the forms of these Fullah girls,—with their complexions of
freshest bronze,—are exceeded in symmetry by the women of any other country.
There was a slender delicacy of limb, waist, neck, hand, foot, and bosom, which
seemed to be the type that moulded every one of them. I saw none of the hanging
breast; the flat, expanded nostrils; the swollen lips, and fillet-like foreheads, that
characterize the Soosoos and their sisters of the coast. None were deformed, nor were
any marked by traces of disease. I may observe, moreover, that the male Fullahs of
Timbo are impressed on my memory by a beauty of form, which almost equals that of
the women; and, in fact, the only fault I found with them was their minute
resemblance to the feminine delicacy of the other sex. They made up, however, in
courage what they lacked in form, for their manly spirit has made them renowned
among all the tribes they have so long controlled by distinguished bravery and
perseverance.
The patriarchal landscape by the brook, with the Oriental girls over their water-jars,
and the lowing cattle in the pastures, brought freshly to my mind many a Bible scene I

heard my mother read when I was a boy at home; and I do not know what revolution
might have been wrought on my spirit had I not suddenly become critical! A stately
dame passed within twenty feet of my thicket, whose coiffure excited my mirth so
powerfully that I might have been detected as a spy, had not a bitten lip controlled my
laughter. Her ladyship belonged, perhaps, to the “upper-ten” of Timbo, whose heads
had hitherto been hidden from my eyes by the jealous yashmacks they constantly wear
in a stranger’s presence. In this instance, however, the woman’s head, like that of the
younger girls, was uncovered, so that I had a full view of the stately preparation. Her
lower limbs were clad in ample folds of blue and white cotton, knotted in an immense
mass at the waist, while her long crisp hair had been combed out to its fullest
dimensions and spliced with additional wool. The ebony fleece was then separated in
strands half an inch in diameter, and plaited all over her skull in a countless number of
distinct braids. This quill-like structure was then adorned with amber beads, and
copiously anointed with vegetable butter, so that the points gleamed with fire in the
setting sunlight, and made her look as if she had donned for a bewitching headdress a
porcupine instead of a “bird of paradise.”

My trip to Timbo, I confess, was one of business rather than pleasure or scientific
exploration. I did not make a record, at the moment, of my “impressions de voyage,”
and never thought that, a quarter of a century afterwards, I would feel disposed to
chronicle the journey in a book, as an interesting souvenir of my early life. Had I
supposed that the day would come when I was to turn author, it is likely I might have
been more inquisitive; but, being only “a slaver,” I found Ahmah, Sulimani,
Abdulmomen, the Ali-Mami, and all the quality and amusements of Timbo, dull
enough, when my object was achieved. Still, while I was there, I thought I might as
well see all that was visible. I strolled repeatedly through the town. I became
excessively familiar with its narrow streets, low houses, mud walls, cul-de-sacs, and
mosques. I saw no fine bazaars, market-places, or shops. The chief wants of life were
supplied by peddlers. Platters, jars, and baskets of fruit, vegetables, and meat, were
borne around twice or thrice daily. Horsemen dashed about on beautiful steeds
towards the fields in the morning, or came home at nightfall at a slower pace. I never
saw man or woman bask lazily in the sun. Females were constantly busy over their
cotton and spinning wheels when not engaged in household occupations; and often
have I seen an elderly dame quietly crouched in her hovel at sunset reading the Koran.
Nor are the men of Timbo less thrifty. Their city wall is said to hem in about ten
thousand individuals, representing all the social industries. They weave cotton, work
in leather, fabricate iron from the bar, engage diligently in agriculture, and, whenever
not laboriously employed, devote themselves to reading and writing, of which they are
excessively fond.

These are the faint sketches, which, on ransacking my brain, I find resting on its
tablets. But I was tired of Timbo; I was perfectly refreshed from my journey; and I
was anxious to return to my factory on the beach. Two “moons” only had been
originally set apart for the enterprise, and the third was already waxing towards its
full. I feared the Ali-Mami was not yet prepared with slaves for my departure, and I
dreaded lest objections might be made if I approached his royal highness with the flat
announcement. Accordingly, I schooled my interpreters, and visited that important
personage. I made a long speech, as full of compliments and blarney as a Christmas
pudding is of plums, and concluded by touching the soft part in African royalty’s heart
—slaves! I told the king that a vessel or two, with abundant freights, would be waiting
me on the river, and that I must hasten thither with his choicest gangs if he hoped to
reap a profit.
The king and the royal family were no doubt excessively grieved to part with the
Furtoo Mongo, but they were discreet persons and “listened to reason.” War parties
and scouts were forthwith despatched to blockade the paths, while press-gangs made
recruits among the villages, and even in Timbo. Sulimani-Ali, himself, sallied forth,
before daybreak, with a troop of horse, and at sundown, came back with forty-five
splendid fellows, captured in Findo and Furo!
The personal dread of me in the town itself, was augmented. If I had been a Pestilence
before, I was Death now! When I took my usual morning walk the children ran from
me screaming. Since the arrival of Sulimani with his victims, all who were under the
yoke thought their hour of exile had come. The poor regarded me as the devil
incarnate. Once or twice, I caught women throwing a handful of dust or ashes towards
me, and uttering an invocation from the Koran to avert the demon or save them from
his clutches. Their curiosity was merged in terror. My popularity was over!
It was not a little amusing that in the midst of the general dismay, caused by the court
of Timbo and myself, my colored brother Ahmah-de-Bellah, and his kinsman
Abdulmomen, lost no chance of lecturing me about my soul! We kidnapped the
Africans all day and spouted Islamism all night! Our religion, however, was more
speculative than practical. It was much more important, they thought, that we should
embrace the faith of their peculiar theology, than that we should trouble ourselves
about human rights that interfered with profits and pockets. We spared Mahometans
and enslaved only “the heathen;” so that, in fact, we were merely obedient to the
behests of Mahomet when we subdued “the infidel!”
This process of proselytism, however, was not altogether successful. As I was already
a rather poor Christian, I fear that the Fullah did not succeed in making me a very
good Mussulman. Still, I managed to amuse him with the hope of my future
improvement in his creed, so that we were very good friends when the Ali-Mami
summoned us for a final interview.

The parting of men is seldom a maudlin affair. The king’s relations presented me
bullocks, cows, goats, and sheep. His majesty sent me five slaves. Sulimani-Ali
offered a splendid white charger. The king’s wife supplied me with an African quilt
ingeniously woven of red and yellow threads unravelled from Manchester cottons;
while Ahmah-de-Bellah, like a gentleman of taste, despatched for my consolation, the
two prettiest handmaidens he could buy or steal in Timbo!

CHAPTER XXV.
I shall not weary the reader with a narrative of my journey homeward over the track I
had followed on my way to Timbo. A grand Mahometan service was performed at my
departure, and Ahmah-de-Bellah accompanied me as far as Jallica, whence he was
recalled by his father in consequence of a serious family dispute that required his
presence. Ali-Ninpha was prepared, in this place, to greet me with a welcome, and a
copious supply of gold, wax, ivory, and slaves. At Tamisso, the worthy Mohamedoo
had complied with his promise to furnish a similar addition to the caravan; so that
when we set out for Kya, our troop was swelled to near a thousand strong, counting
men, women, children and ragamuffins.
At Kya I could not help tarrying four days with my jolly friend Ibrahim, who received
the tobacco, charged with “bitters,” during my absence, and was delighted to furnish a
nourishing drop after my long abstinence. As we approached the coast, another halt
was called at a favorable encampment, where Ali-Ninpha divided the caravan in four
parts, reserving the best portion of slaves and merchandise for me. The division,
before arrival, was absolutely necessary, in order to prevent disputes or disastrous
quarrels in regard to the merchantable quality of negroes on the beach.
I hoped to take my people by surprise at Kambia; but when the factory came in sight
from the hill-tops back of the settlement, I saw the Spanish flag floating from its
summit, and heard the cannon booming forth a welcome to the wanderer. Every thing
had been admirably conducted in my absence. The Fullah and my clerk preserved
their social relations and the public tranquillity unimpaired. My factory and
warehouse were as neat and orderly as when I left them, so that I had nothing to do
but go to sleep as if I had made a day’s excursion to a neighboring village.
Within a week I paid for the caravan’s produce, despatched Mami-de-Yong, and made
arrangements with the captain of a slaver in the river for the remainder of his
merchandise. But the Fullah chief had not left me more than a day or two, when I was
surprised by a traveller who dashed into my factory, with a message from Ahmah-de-
Bellah at Timbo, whence he had posted in twenty-one days.
Ahmah was in trouble. He had been recalled, as I said, from Jallica by family quarrels.
When he reached the paternal mat, he found his sister Beeljie bound hand and foot in
prison, with orders for her prompt transportation to my factory as a slave. These were
the irrevocable commands of his royal father, and of her half-brother, Sulimani. All
his appeals, seconded by those of his mother, were unheeded. She must be shipped
from the Rio Pongo; and no one could be trusted with the task but the Ali-Mami’s son
and friend, the Mongo Téodor!

To resist this dire command, Ahmah charged the messenger to appeal to my heart by
our brotherly love not to allow the maiden to be sent over sea; but, by force or
stratagem, to retain her until he arrived on the beach.
The news amazed me. I knew that African Mahometans never sold their caste or
kindred into foreign slavery, unless their crime deserved a penalty severer than death.
I reflected a while on the message, because I did not wish to complicate my relations
with the leading chiefs of the interior; but, in a few moments, natural sensibility
mastered every selfish impulse, and I told the envoy to hasten back on the path of the
suffering brother, and assure him I would shield his sister, even at the risk of his
kindred’s wrath.
About a week afterwards I was aroused one morning by a runner from a neighboring
village over the hill, who stated that a courier reached his town the night before from
Sulimani-Ali,—a prince of Timbo,—conducting a Fullah girl, who was to be sold by
me immediately to a Spanish slaver. The girl, he said, resisted with all her energy. She
refused to walk. For the last four days she had been borne along in a litter. She swore
never to “see the ocean;” and threatened to dash her skull against the first rock in her
path, if they attempted to carry her further. The stanch refusal embarrassed her
Mahometan conductor, inasmuch as his country’s law forbade him to use
extraordinary compulsion, or degrade the maiden with a whip.
I saw at once that this delay and hesitation afforded an opportunity to interfere
judiciously in behalf of the spirited girl, whose sins or faults were still unknown to
me. Accordingly, I imparted the tale to Ali-Ninpha; and, with his consent, despatched
a shrewd dame from the Mandingo’s harem, with directions for her conduct to the
village. Woman’s tact and woman’s sympathy are the same throughout the world, and
the proud ambassadress undertook her task with pleased alacrity. I warned her to be
extremely cautious before the myrmidons of Sulimani, but to seize a secret moment
when she might win the maiden’s confidence, to inform her that I was the sworn
friend of Ahmah-de-Bellah, and would save her if she followed my commands
implicitly. She must cease resistance at once. She must come to the river, which was
fresh water, and not salt; and she must allow her jailers to fulfil all the orders they
received from her tyrannical kinsmen. Muffled in the messenger’s garments, I sent the
manuscript Koran of Ahmah-de-Bellah as a token of my truth, and bade the dame
assure Beeljie that her brother was already far on his journey to redeem her in
Kambia.
The mission was successful, and, early next day, the girl was brought to my factory,
with a rope round her neck.
The preliminaries for her purchase were tedious and formal. As her sale was
compulsory, there was not much question as to quality or price. Still, I was obliged to
promise a multitude of things I did not intend to perform. In order to disgrace the poor

creature as much as possible, her sentence declared she should be “sold for salt,”—the
most contemptuous of all African exchanges, and used in the interior for the purchase
of cattle alone.
Poor Beeljie stood naked and trembling before us while these ceremonies were
performing. A scowl of indignation flitted like a shadow over her face, as she heard
the disgusting commands. Tenderly brought up among the princely brood of Timbo,
she was a bright and delicate type of the classes I described at the brook-side. Her
limbs and features were stained by the dust of travel, and her expression was clouded
with the grief of sensible degradation: still I would have risked more than I did, when
I beheld the mute appeal of her face and form, to save her from the doom of Cuban
exile.
When the last tub of salt was measured, I cut the rope from Beeljie’s neck, and,
throwing over her shoulders a shawl,—in which she instantly shrank with a look of
gratitude,—called the female who had borne my cheering message, to take the girl to
her house and treat her as the sister of my Fullah brother.
As I expected, this humane command brought the emissary of Sulimani to his feet
with a bound. He insisted on the restitution of the woman! He swore I had deceived
him; and, in fact, went through a variety of African antics which are not unusual, even
among the most civilized of the tribes, when excited to extraordinary passion.
It was my habit, during these outbursts of native ire, to remain perfectly quiet, not
only until the explosion was over, but while the smoke was disappearing from the
scene. I fastened my eye, therefore, silently, but intensely, on the tiger, following him
in all his movements about the apartment, till he sank subdued and panting, on the
mat. I then softly told him that this excitement was not only unbecoming a
Mahometan gentleman, and fit for a savage alone, but that it was altogether wasted on
the present occasion, inasmuch as the girl should be put on board a slaver in his
presence. Nevertheless, I continued while the sister of Ahmah was under my roof, her
blood must be respected, and she should be treated in every respect as a royal person.
I was quite as curious as the reader may be to know the crime of Beeljie, for, up to
that moment, I had not been informed of it. Dismissing the Fullah as speedily as
possible, I hastened to Ali-Ninpha’s dwelling and heard the sufferer’s story.
The Mahometan princess, whose age surely did not exceed eighteen, had been
promised by the king and her half-brother, Sulimani, to an old relative, who was not
only accused of cruelty to his harem’s inmates, but was charged by Mussulmen with
the heinous crime of eating “unclean flesh.” The girl, who seemed to be a person of
masculine courage and determination, resisted this disposal of her person; but, while
her brother Ahmah was away, she was forced from her mother’s arms and given to the
filthy dotard.

It is commonly supposed that women are doomed to the basest obedience in oriental
lands; yet, it seems there is a Mahometan law,—or, at least, a Fullah custom,—which
saves the purity of an unwilling bride. The delivery of Beeljie to her brutal lord
kindled the fire of an ardent temper. She furnished the old gentleman with specimens
of violence to which his harem had been a stranger, save when the master himself
chose to indulge in wrath. In fact, the Fullah damsel—half acting, half in reality—
played the virago so finely, that her husband, after exhausting arguments, promises
and supplications, sent her back to her kindred with an insulting message.
It was a sad day when she returned to the paternal roof in Timbo. Her resistance was
regarded by the dropsical despot as rebellious disobedience to father and brother; and,
as neither authority nor love would induce the outlaw to repent, her barbarous parent
condemned her to be “a slave to Christians.”
Her story ended, I consoled the poor maiden with every assurance of protection and
comfort; for, now that the excitement of sale and journey was over, her nerves gave
way, and she sank on her mat, completely exhausted. I commended her to the
safeguard of my landlord and the especial kindness of his women. Esther, too, stole up
at night to comfort the sufferer with her fondling tenderness, for she could not speak
the Fullah language;—and in a week, I had the damsel in capital condition ready for a
daring enterprise that was to seal her fate.
When the Spanish slaver, whose cargo I had just completed, was ready for sea, I
begged her captain to aid me in the shipment of “a princess” who had been consigned
to my wardship by her royal relations in the interior, but whom I dared not put on
board his vessel until she was beyond the Rio Pongo’s bar. The officer assented; and
when the last boat-load of slaves was despatched from my barracoon, he lifted his
anchor and floated down the stream till he got beyond the furthest breakers. Here,
with sails loosely furled, and every thing ready for instant departure, he again laid to,
awaiting the royal bonne-bouche.
In the mean time, I hurried Beeljie with her friends and Fullah jailer to the beach, so
that when the slaver threw his sails aback and brought his vessel to the wind, I lost not
a moment in putting the girl in a canoe, with five Kroomen to carry her through the
boiling surf.
“Allah be praised!” sighed the Fullah, as the boat shot ahead into the sea; while the
girls of the harem fell on the sand with wails of sorrow. The Kroomen, with their
usual skill, drove the buoyant skiff swiftly towards the slaver; but, as they approached
the breakers south of the bar, a heavy roller struck it on the side, and instantly, its
freight was struggling in the surge.
In a twinkling, the Fullah was on the earth, his face buried in the sand; the girls
screamed and tore their garments; Ali-Ninpha’s wife clung to me with the grasp of

despair; while I, stamping with rage, cursed the barbarity of the maiden’s parent,
whose sentence had brought her to this wretched fate.
I kicked the howling hypocrite beneath me, and bade him hasten with the news to
Timbo, and tell the wicked patriarch that the Prophet himself had destroyed the life of
his wretched child, sooner than suffer her to become a Christian’s slave.
The Spanish vessel was under full sail, sweeping rapidly out to sea, and the Kroomen
swam ashore without their boat, as the grieving group slowly and sadly retraced their
way along the river’s bank to Kambia.

THE SHIPPING OF BEELJIE.
There was wailing that night in the village, and there was wailing in Timbo when the
Fullah returned with the tragic story. In fact, such was the distracted excitement both
on the sea-shore and in the settlement, that none of my companions had eyes to
observe an episode of the drama which had been played that evening without
rehearsal.
Every body who has been on the coast of Africa, or read of its people, knows that
Kroomen are altogether unaware of any difference between a smooth river and the

angriest wave. They would as willingly be upset in the surf as stumble against a rock.
I took advantage of this amphibious nature, to station a light canoe immediately on the
edge of the breakers, and to order the daring swimmers it contained to grasp the girl
the moment her canoe was purposely upset! I promised the divers a liberal reward if
they lodged her in their boat, or swam with her to the nearest point of the opposite
beach; and so well did they perform their secret task, that when they drew ashore her
fainting body, it was promptly received by a trusty Bager, who was in waiting on the
beach. Before the girl recovered her senses she was safely afloat in the fisherman’s
canoe. His home was in a village on the coast below; and, perhaps, it still remains a
secret to this day, how it was that, for years after, a girl, the image of the lost Beeljie,
followed the footsteps of Ahmah, the Fullah of Timbo!

CHAPTER XXVI.
After my toilsome journey to the interior, my despatch of a slaver, and my
adventurous enterprise in behalf of a Fullah princess, I thought myself entitled to a
long siesta; but my comfortable desires and anticipations were doomed to
disappointment. I was suddenly stirred from this willing lethargy by a salute of
twenty-one guns in the offing. Our wonder was almost insupportable as to the
character of the ceremonious stranger who wasted powder so profusely, while a boy
was despatched to the top of the look-out tree to ascertain his character. He reported a
schooner anchored opposite Bangalang, sporting a long pendant at the main, and a
white ensign at her peak. I took it for granted that no man-of-war would salute a
native chief, and so concluded that it was some pretentious Frenchman, unacquainted
with the prudent customs of our demure coast.
The conjecture was right. At nightfall Mr. Ormond—whose humor had somewhat
improved since my return—apprised me that a Gallic slaver had arrived to his
consignment with a rich cargo, and hoped I would join him at breakfast on board, by
invitation of the commander.
Next morning, at sunrise, the Mongo and myself met for the first time after our
rupture with apparent cordiality on the deck of “La Perouse,” where we were
welcomed with all that cordiality of grimace for which a half-bred Frenchman is so
justly celebrated. Captain Brulôt could not speak English, nor could Mr. Ormond
express himself in French; so we wasted the time till breakfast was served in
discussing his cargo and prospects, through my interpretation. Fine samples of gaudy
calicoes, French guns, and superior brandy, were exhibited and dwelt on with
characteristic eloquence; but the Gaul closed his bewitching catalogue with a shout of
joy that made the cabin ring, as he announced the complement of his cargo to be five
hundred doubloons. The scent of gold has a peculiar charm to African slavers, and it
will readily be supposed that our appetite for the promised déjeuner was not a little
stimulated by the Spanish coin. As rapidly as we could, we summed up the doubloons
and his merchandise; and, estimating the entire cargo at about $17,000, offered him
three hundred and fifty negroes for the lot. The bid was no sooner made than accepted.
Our private boats were sent ashore in search of canoes to discharge the goods, and,
with a relish and spirit I never saw surpassed, we sat down to a piquant breakfast,
spread on deck beneath the awning.
I will not attempt to remember the dishes which provoked our appetites and teased our
thirst. We were happy already on the delightful claret that washed down the viands;
but, after the substantials were gone, coffee was served, and succeeded by half a

dozen various cordials, the whole being appropriately capped by the foam of
champagne.
When the last bumper was quaffed in honor of “La Perouse” and “belle France,”
Captain Brulôt called for his writing-desk; when, at the instant, four men sprung up as
if by enchantment behind the Mongo and myself, and grasping our arms with the
gripe of a vice, held us in their clutches till the carpenter riveted a shackle on our feet.
The scene passed so rapidly,—the transition from gayety to outrage was so sharp and
violent, that my bewildered mind cannot now declare with certainty, whether mirth or
anger prevailed at the clap-trap trick of this dramatic denouement. I am quite sure,
however, that if I laughed at first, I very soon swore; for I have a distinct recollection
of dashing my fist in the poltroon’s face before he could extemporize an explanation.
When our limbs were perfectly secure, the French scoundrel recommenced his shrugs,
bows, grins and congées; and approaching Mr. Ormond with a sarcastic simper,
apprised him that the petite comedie in which he took part, had been enacted for the
collection of a trifling debt which his excellency the Mongo owed a beloved brother,
who, alas! was no longer on earth to collect it for himself!
Monsieur le Mongo, he said, would have the kindness to remember that, several years
ago, his brother had left some two hundred slaves in his hands until called for; and he
would also please to take the trouble to recollect, that the said slaves had been twice
sent for, and twice refused. Monsieur le Mongo must know, he continued, that there
was not much law on the coast of Africa; and that, as he had Monsieur le Mongo’s
promissory note, or due-bill, for the negroes, he thought this charming little ruse
would be the most amiable and practical mode of enforcing it! Did his friend, le
Mongo, intend to honor this draft? It was properly endorsed, he would see, in favor of
the bearer; and if the esclaves were quickly forthcoming, the whole affair would pass
off as agreeably and quickly as the bubbles from a champagne glass.
By this time Ormond was so perfectly stupefied by drink, as well as the atrocity, that
he simply burst into a maudlin laugh, when I looked at him for an explanation of the
charge. I, surely, was not implicated in it; yet, when I demanded the cause of the
assault upon my person, in connection with the affair, Brulôt replied, with a shrug, that
as I was Ormond’s clerk when the note was signed, I must have had a finger in the pie;
and, inasmuch as I now possessed a factory of my own, it would doubtless be
delightful to aid my ancient patron in the liquidation of a debt that I knew to be
lawful.
It was altogether useless to deny my presence in the factory, or knowledge of the
transaction, which, in truth, had occurred long before my arrival on the Rio Pongo,
during the clerkship of my predecessor. Still, I insisted on immediate release. An hour
flew by in useless parley. But the Frenchman was firm, and swore that nothing would

induce him to liberate either of us without payment of the bill. While we were talking,
a crowd of canoes was seen shoving off from Bangalang, filled with armed men;
whereupon the excited Gaul ordered his men to quarters, and double-shotted his guns.
As the first boat came within striking distance, a ball was fired across her bows, which
not only sent back the advance, but made the entire fleet tack ship and steer homeward
in dismay. Soon after, however, I heard the war-drum beating in Bangalang, and could
see the natives mustering in great numbers along the river banks; yet, what could
undisciplined savages effect against the skinned teeth of our six-pounders? At sunset,
however, my clerk came off, with a white flag, and the captain allowed him to row
alongside to receive our orders in his presence. Ormond was not yet in a state to
consult as to our appropriate means of rescue from the trickster’s clutches; so I
directed the young man to return in the morning with changes of raiment; but, in the
mean while, to desire the villagers of both settlements to refrain from interference in
our behalf. An excellent meal, with abundance of claret, was served for our
entertainment, and, on a capital mattress, we passed a night of patient endurance in
our iron stockings.
At daylight, water and towels were served for our refreshment. After coffee and cigars
were placed on the board, Brulôt put by his sarcasm, and, in an off-hand fashion,
demanded whether we had come to our senses and intended to pay the debt? My
Italian blood was in a fever, and I said nothing. Ormond, however,—now entirely
sober, and who was enjoying a cigar with the habitual insouciance of a mulatto,—
replied quietly that he could make no promises or arrangements whilst confined on
board, but if allowed to go ashore, he would fulfil his obligation in two or three days.
An hour was spent by the Frenchman in pondering on the proposal; when it was
finally agreed that the Mongo should be set at liberty, provided he left, as hostages,
four of his children and two of the black chiefs who visited him in my boat. The
compact was sealed by the hoisting of a flag under the discharge of a blank cartridge;
and, in an hour, the pledges were in the cabin, under the eye of a sentry, while the
Mongo was once more in Bangalang.
These negotiations, it will be perceived, did not touch my case, though I was in no
manner guilty; yet I assented to the proposal because I thought that Ormond would be
better able than myself to find the requisite number of slaves at that moment. I ordered
my clerk, however, to press all the indifferent and useless servants in my factory, and
to aid the Mongo with every slave at present in my barracoon.
Before sunset of that day, this young man came aboard with fifty negroes from my
establishment, and demanded my release. It was refused. Next day forty more were
despatched by the Mongo; but still my liberty was denied. I upbraided the scoundrel
with his meanness, and bade him look out for the day of retribution. But he snapped

his fingers at my threat as he exclaimed: “Cher ami, ce n’est que la fortune de
guerre!”
It was a task of difficulty to collect the remaining one hundred and ten slaves among
factories which had been recently drained by Cuban vessels. Many domestic menials
escaped to the forest when the story became known, as they did not wish to take the
place of their betters in the “French service.”
Thrice had the sun risen and set since I was a prisoner. During all the time, my blood
tingled for revenge. I was tricked, humbled and disgraced. Never did I cease to pray
for the arrival of some well-armed Spanish slaver; and, towards evening of the fourth
day, lo! the boon was granted! That afternoon, a boat manned by negroes, passed with
the Spanish flag; but, as there was no white man aboard, Brulôt took it for a ruse of
the Mongo, designed to alarm him into an unconditional release of his captives.
I must do the Gaul the justice to declare, that during my confinement, he behaved like
a gentleman, in supplies from the pantry and spirit-room. Neither was he uncivil or
unkind in his general demeanor. Indeed, he several times regretted that this was the
only means in his power “to collect a promissory note on the coast of Africa;” yet, I
was not Christian enough to sympathize with the sheriff, or to return his compliments
with any thing but a curse. But, now that a Spaniard was within hail, I felt a sudden
lifting of the weight that was on my heart. I shouted for champagne! The steward
brought it with alacrity, and poured with trembling hand the bumpers I drained to
Saint Jago and old Spain. The infection soon spread. They began to believe that a
rescue was at hand. The news was heard with dismay in the forecastle. Brulôt alone
stood obstinate, but indecisive.
Presently, I called him to join me in a glass, and, as we drank the foaming liquid, I
pledged him to another “within twenty-four hours beneath the Spanish flag.” The Gaul
feigned a sort of hectic hilarity as he swallowed the wine and the toast, but he could
not stand the flash of revenge in my eye and burning cheek, and retired to consult with
his officers.

CHAPTER XXVII.
I slept soundly that night; but the sun was not clear of the forest when I hobbled on
deck in my shackles, and was searching the seaward horizon for my beloved Castilian.
Presently the breeze began to freshen, and the tall, raking masts of a schooner were
seen gliding above the tops of the mangroves that masked the Rio Pongo’s mouth.
Very soon the light wind and tide drifted her clear of the bends, and an anchor was let
go within musket shot of my prison, while springs were run out to the bushes to give
range to her broadside. I saw at once, from her manœuvres, that Ormond had
communicated with the craft during the night.
Brulôt felt that his day was over. The Spaniard’s decks were crowded with an alert,
armed crew; four charming little bull-dogs showed their muzzles from port holes;
while a large brass swivel, amidships, gave token of its readiness to fight or salute.
For a minute or two the foiled Frenchman surveyed the scene through his glass; then,
throwing it over his shoulder, ordered the mate to strike off my “darbies.” As the
officer obeyed, a voice was heard from the Spaniard, commanding a boat to be sent
aboard, under penalty of a shot if not instantly obeyed. The boat was lowered; but who
would man her? The chief officer refused; the second declined; the French sailors
objected; the Creoles and mulattoes from St. Thomas went below; so that no one was
left to fulfil the slaver’s order but Brulôt or myself.
“Bien!” said my crest-fallen cock, “it’s your turn to crow, Don Téodore. Fortune
seems on your side, and you are again free. Go to the devil, if you please, mon
camarade, and send your imps for the slaves as soon as you want them!”
By this time the Spaniard had lighted his matches, levelled his guns, and, under the
aim of his musketry, repeated the order for a boat. Seeing the danger of our party, I
leaped to the bulwarks, and hailing my deliverer in Spanish, bade him desist. The
request was obeyed as I threw myself into the yawl, cut the rope, and, alone, sculled
the skiff to the slaver.
A shout went up from the deck of my deliverer as I jumped aboard and received the
cordial grasp of her commander. Ali-Ninpha, too, was there to greet and defend me
with a chosen band of his people. While I was absorbed in the joy of welcome and
liberation, the African stole with his band to the Frenchman’s boat, and was rapidly
filling it to board the foe, when my clerk apprised me of the impending danger. I was
fortunate enough to control the enraged savage, else I know not what might have been
the fate of Brulôt and the officers during the desertion of his mongrel and cowardly
crew.

The captain desired his mates to keep an eye on the Gaul while we retired to the cabin
for consultation; and here I learned that I was on board the “Esperanza,” consigned to
me from Matanzas. In turn, I confirmed the account they had already heard of my
mishap from the Mongo’s messengers; but hoped the Cuban captain would permit me
to take pacific revenge after my own fashion, inasmuch as my captor—barring the
irons—had behaved with uncommon civility. I had no trouble, of course, in obtaining
the commander’s assent to this request, though he yielded it under the evident
displeasure of his crew, whose Spanish blood was up against the Frenchman, and
would willingly have inflicted a signal punishment on this neutral ground.
After these preliminaries, Captain Escudero and myself returned to the “La Perouse”
with two boat-loads of armed followers, while our approach was covered by the
cannons and small arms of the “Esperanza.” Brulôt received us in moody silence on
the quarter-deck. His officers sat sulkily on a gun to leeward, while two or three
French seamen walked to and fro on the forecastle.
My first command was to spike the vessel’s guns. Next, I decreed and superintended
the disembarkation of the stolen slaves; and, lastly, I concluded the morning call with
a request that Brulôt would produce the five hundred doubloons and his “promissory
note” for two hundred slaves!
The fatal document, duly indorsed, was quickly delivered, but no persuasion or threat
induced the angry Gaul to show his gold, or a manifest of the cargo.
After ample indulgence, I despatched a man to seek his writing-desk, and discovered
that six hundred doubloons had in reality been shipped in St. Thomas. Of course, their
production was imperiously demanded; but Brulôt swore they had been landed, with
his supercargo, in the neighboring Rio Nunez. I was near crediting the story, when a
slight sneer I perceived flickering over the steward’s face, put me on the qui vive to
request an inspection of the log-book, which, unfortunately for my captor, did not
record the disembarkation of the cash. This demonstrated Brulôt’s falsehood, and
authorized a demand for his trunk. The knave winced as the steward descended to
bring it; and he leaped with rage as I split it with a hatchet, and counted two hundred
and fifty Mexican doubloons on the deck. His cargo, however, proved to be a sham of
samples.
Turning innocently to Escudero, I remarked that he must have been put to
considerable trouble in rescuing me from this outlaw, and hoped he would suffer his
men to be recompensed for their extra toil under the rays of an African sun. I would
not venture to judge the value of such devoted services; but requested him to fix his
own price and receive payment on the spot.
Escudero very naturally supposed that about two hundred and fifty Mexican ounces
would compensate him to a fraction, and, accordingly, the two hundred and fifty

shiners, glistening on the deck, forthwith returned to their bag and went overboard
into his boat.
“Adieu! mon cher,” said I, as I followed the gold; “la fortune de guerre has many
phases, you see; how do you like this one? The next game you play on the coast of
Africa, my chicken, recollect that though a knave can take a trick, yet the knave may
be trumped before the hand is played out!”

CHAPTER XXVIII.
La Esperanza discharged her cargo rapidly, but, before I was ready to send back a
living freight, poor Escudero fell a victim to African fever.
I had seen much of the country; I had made some money; my clerk was a reliable
fellow; I was growing somewhat anxious for a change of scene; and, in fact, I only
wanted a decent excuse to find myself once more aboard a “skimmer of the seas,” for
a little relaxation after the oppressive monotony of a slaver’s life. Escudero’s death
seemed to offer the desired opportunity. His mate was an inexperienced seaman; his
officers were unacquainted with the management of a slave cargo; and, upon a view of
the whole field of interests, I thought it best to take charge of the schooner and pay a
visit to my friends in Cuba. In the mean time, however, a Danish brig arrived for
negroes, so that it became necessary for me, with my multiplied duties, to bestir
myself in the collection of slaves.
Whilst I was dining one afternoon at Ormond’s factory with the Danish captain of the
trader, the boom of a gun, followed rapidly by two or three more, announced the
arrival of another craft. We drank a toast to his advent, and were beginning to condole
a little over our difficulty in procuring blacks, when the look-out ran into our room
with the report that my Spaniard was firing into the Dane. We rushed to the piazza
whence the scene of action might be beheld, and another shot from my vessel seemed
to indicate that she was the aggressor. The Dane and myself hurried aboard our
respective schooners, but when I reached the Esperanza, my crew were weighing
anchor, while the quarter-deck was strewn with fire-arms. The mate stood on the heel
of the bowsprit, urging his men to alacrity; the sailors hove at the windlass with
mingled shouts of passion and oaths of revenge; on a mattress lay the bleeding form
of my second officer, while a seaman groaned beside him with a musket ball in his
shoulder.
My arrival was the signal for a pause. As quickly as possible, I inquired into the
affray, which had originated like many a sailor’s dispute, on a question of precedence
at the watering place in a neighboring brook. The Danes were seven, and we but three.
Our Spaniards had been driven off, and my second mate, in charge of the yawl,
received a trenchant blow from an oar-blade, which cut his skull and felled him
senseless on the sand.
Of course, “the watering” was over for the day, and both boats returned to their
vessels to tell their stories. The moment the Danes got on board, they imprudently ran
up their ensign; and, as this act of apparent defiance occurred just as the Esperanza
was receiving the lifeless form of her officer, my excited crew discharged a broadside

in reply to the warlike token. Gun followed gun, and musketry rattled against
musketry. The Dane miscalculated the range of the guns, and his grape fell short of
my schooner, while our snarling sixes made sad havoc with his bulwarks and rigging.
I had hardly learned the facts of the case and thought of a truce, when the passionate
Northman sent a round-shot whistling over my head. Another and another followed in
its wake, but they aimed too high for damage. At twenty-four our blood is not so
diplomatically pacific as in later years, and this second aggression rekindled the lava
in my Italian veins. There was no longer question of a white flag or a parley. In a
twinkling, I slipped my cable and ran up the jib and mainsail, so as to swing the
schooner into a raking position at short quarters; and before the Dane could counteract
my manœuvre, I gave him a dose of grape and cannister which tore his ensign to
ribbons and spoiled the looks of his hull materially. My second shot splintered the
edge of his mast; but while I was making ready for a third, to tickle him betwixt wind
and water, down tumbled his impertinent pendant and the day was won.
For a while there was a dead silence between the warriors. Neither hailed nor sent a
boat on board of the other. Ormond perceived this cessation of hostilities from his
piazza at Bangalang, and coming out in a canoe, rowed to the Dane after hearing my
version of the battle.
I waited anxiously either for his return or a message, but as I was unadvised of the
Mongo’s views and temper in regard to the affray, I thought it well, before dark, to
avoid treachery by quitting the river and placing my schooner in a creek with her
broadside to the shore. Special charge was then given to the mate and men to be alert
all night long; after which, I went on shore to protect the rear by placing my factory in
a state of defence.
But my precautions were needless. At daylight the guard brought us news of the
Dane’s departure, and when I descended the river to Bangalang, Ormond alleged that
the slaver had sailed for Sierra Leone to seek succor either from a man-of-war or the
British government.
It may be supposed that I was not so “green” in Africa as to believe this story. No
vessel, equipped for a slave cargo, would dare to enter the imperial colony. Yet the
Northman had bitter cause for grief and anger. His vessel was seriously harmed by my
grape-shot; his carpenter was slain during the action; and three of his seaman were
lingering with desperate wounds. In a few days, however, he returned to the Rio
Pongo from his airing on the Atlantic, where his wrath had probably been somewhat
cooled by the sea-breeze. His craft was anchored higher up the river than my
Spaniard, and thus our crews avoided intercourse for the future.
But this was not the case with the captains. The Mongo’s table was a sort of neutral
ground, at which we met with cold salutations but without conversation. Ormond and

the Dane, however, became exceedingly intimate. Indeed, the mulatto appeared to
exhibit a degree of friendship for the Margaritan I had never seen him bestow on any
one else. This singularity, together with his well-known insincerity, put me on my
guard to watch his proceedings with increased caution.
Personal observation is always a safe means of self-assurance; yet I have sometimes
found it to be “a way of the world,”—not to be altogether scorned or disregarded,—to
purchase the good will of “confidential” persons. Accordingly, I made it “worth the
while” of Ormond’s body-servant to sift the secret of this sudden devotion; and in a
few days the faithless slave, who spoke English remarkably well, told me that the
Dane, by dint of extra pay and the secret delivery of all his spare provisions and the
balance of his cargo, had induced the Mongo to promise the delivery of his slaves
before mine.
Now, Ormond, by a specific contract,—made and paid for before the Dane’s arrival,—
owed me two hundred negroes on account of the Esperanza’s cargo. The Dane knew
this perfectly, but my severe chastisement rankled in his heart, and made him seek
revenge in the most effectual way on the coast of Africa. He was bent upon depriving
me of one hundred negroes, in the hands of Mr. Ormond.
I said nothing of my discovery, nor did I make any remarks on the astonishing love
that existed between these Siamese twins; still, I kept my eye on Ormond’s barracoon
until I found his stock had gradually augmented to three hundred. Thereupon, I
dropped in one morning unceremoniously, and, in a gentle voice, told him of his
treacherous design. My ancient patron was so degraded by debauchery, that he not
only avoided a passionate outburst when I made the charge, but actually seemed to
regard it as a sort of capital joke, or recompense for the damage I had inflicted on the
Dane! We did not dream of arguing the propriety or impropriety of his conduct; nor
did I think of upbraiding him with baseness, as I would have done any one who had
dipped only his finger-tips in fraud. Still, ever and anon, I saw a glimmer of former
spirit in the wretch, and thought I would attempt a counter-mine of interest, which
Ormond might probably understand and grasp. I resolved, in fact, to outbid the Dane,
for I thought I possessed a card that could take him. Accordingly, I offered to
surrender a bond for one hundred slaves he owed me on account of the Esperanza; I
promised, moreover, one hundred and fifty negroes, to be delivered that evening,—
and I tendered Brulôt’s promissory note for the missing two hundred darkies,—if he
would pledge himself to load the Dane during the succeeding night!
Ormond took the hint like tinder, and grasped my hand on the bargain. The Dane was
ordered to prepare his vessel to receive cargo without delay, and was specially desired
to drop down about fifteen miles towards the bar, so as to be off the moment his slaves
were under hatches!

For the next six hours there was not a busier bee on the Rio Pongo than Don Téodore.
My schooner was put in ship-shape for cargo. The mate was ordered to have his small
arms and cutlasses in perfect condition. Our pivot gun was double-loaded with chain-
shot. My factory was set in order, and written directions given the clerk in anticipation
of a four months’ absence. Ali-Ninpha was put in charge of the territorial domain,
while my Spaniard was intrusted with the merchandise.
It was encouraging to see, in the course of the afternoon, that my northern rival had
swallowed the bait, for he borrowed a kedge to aid him, as he said, in descending the
river against the tide, in order to “get a better berth.” He found the trees and air
uncomfortable sixteen miles from the bar, and wanted to approach it to be “nearer the
sea-breeze!” The adroitness of his excuse made me laugh in my sleeve, as the clumsy
trickster shot past me with his sails unbent.
Well,—night came on, with as much darkness as ever robes the star-lit skies of Africa
when the moon is obscured. My long boat was quickly filled with ten men, armed
with pistol and cutlass; and in a short time, the canoes from Bangalang hove in sight
with their sable burden. I boarded the first one myself, commanding the rowers to pull
for my Spaniard. The second was seized by the mate, who followed in my wake. The
third, fourth, fifth and sixth, shared the same fate in rapid succession; so that, in an
hour, three hundred and seventy-five negroes were, safe beneath the Esperanza’s deck.
Thereupon, I presented the head-man of each canoe a document acknowledging the
receipt of his slaves, and wrote an order on the Mongo in favor of the Dane, for the
full amount of the darkies I had borrowed!
The land wind sprang up and the tide turned when daylight warned me it was time to
be off; and, as I passed the Dane snugly at anchor just inside the bar, I called all hands
to give three cheers, and to wish him happiness in the “enjoyment of his sea-breeze.”

CHAPTER XXIX.
When the land-breeze died away, it fell entirely calm, and the sea continued an
unruffled mirror for three days, during which the highlands remained in sight, like a
faint cloud in the east. The glaring sky and the reflecting ocean acted and reacted on
each other until the air glowed like a furnace. During night a dense fog enveloped the
vessel with its clammy folds. When the vapor lifted on the fourth morning, our look-
out announced a sail from the mast-head, and every eye was quickly sweeping the
landward horizon in search of the stranger. Our spies along the beach had reported the
coast clear of cruisers when I sailed, so that I hardly anticipated danger from men-of-
war; nevertheless, we held it discreet to avoid intercourse, and accordingly, our
double-manned sweeps were rigged out to impel us slowly towards the open ocean.
Presently, the mate went aloft with his glass, and, after a deliberate gaze, exclaimed:
“It is only the Dane,—I see his flag.” At this my crew swore they would sooner fight
than sweep in such a latitude; and, with three cheers, came aft to request that I would
remain quietly where I was until the Northman overhauled us.
We made so little headway with oars that I thought the difference trifling, whether we
pulled or were becalmed. Perhaps, it might be better to keep the hands fresh, if a
conflict proved inevitable. I passed quickly among the men, with separate inquiries as
to their readiness for battle, and found all—from the boy to the mate—anxious, at
every hazard, to do their duty. Our breakfast was as cold as could be served in such a
climate, but I made it palatable with a case of claret.
When a sail on the coast of Africa heaves in sight of a slaver, it is always best for the
imperilled craft, especially if gifted with swift hull and spreading wings, to take flight
without the courtesies that are usual in mercantile sea-life. At the present day, fighting
is, of course, out of the question, and the valuable prize is abandoned by its valueless
owners. At all times, however,—and as a guard against every risk, whether the cue be
to fight or fly,—the prudent slaver, as soon as he finds himself in the neighborhood of
unwholesome canvas, puts out his fire, nails his forecastle, sends his negroes below,
and secures the gratings over his hatches.
All these preparations were quietly made on board the Esperanza; and, in addition, I
ordered a supply of small arms and ammunition on deck, where they were instantly
covered with blankets. Every man was next stationed at his post, or where he might be
most serviceable. The cannons were sponged and loaded with care; and, as I desired to
deceive our new acquaintance, I ran up the Portuguese flag. The calm still continued
as the day advanced;—indeed, I could not perceive a breath of air by our dog-vane,

which veered from side to side as the schooner rolled slowly on the lazy swell. The
stranger did not approach, nor did we advance. There we hung—

“A painted ship upon a painted ocean!”

I cannot describe the fretful anxiety which vexes a mind under such circumstances.
Slaves below; a blazing sun above; the boiling sea beneath; a withering air around;
decks piled with materials of death; escape unlikely; a phantom in chase behind; the
ocean like an unreachable eternity before; uncertainty every where; and, within your
skull, a feverish mind, harassed by doubt and responsibility, yet almost craving for
any act of desperation that will remove the spell. It is a living nightmare, from which
the soul pants to be free.
With torments like these, I paced the deck for half an hour beneath the awning, when,
seizing a telescope and mounting the rigging, I took deliberate aim at the annoyer. He
was full seven or eight miles away from us, but very soon I saw, or fancied I saw, a
row of ports, which the Dane had not: then sweeping the horizon a little astern of the
craft, I distinctly made out three boats, fully manned, making for us with ensigns
flying.
Anxious to avoid a panic, I descended leisurely, and ordered the sweeps to be spread
once more in aid of the breeze, which, within the last ten minutes, had freshened
enough to fan us along about a knot an hour. Next, I imparted my discovery to the
officers; and, passing once more among the men to test their nerves, I said it was
likely they would have to encounter an angrier customer than the Dane. In fact, I
frankly told them our antagonist was unquestionably a British cruiser of ten or twelve
guns, from whose clutches there was no escape, unless we repulsed the boats.
I found my crew as confident in the face of augmented risk as they had been when we
expected the less perilous Dane. Collecting their votes for fight or surrender, I learned
that all but two were in favor of resistance. I had no doubt in regard to the mates, in
our approaching trials.
By this time the breeze had again died away to utter calmness, while the air was so
still and fervent that our sweltering men almost sank at the sweeps. I ordered them in,
threw overboard several water-casks that encumbered the deck, and hoisted our boat
to the stern-davits to prevent boarding in that quarter. Things were perfectly ship-
shape all over the schooner, and I congratulated myself that her power had been
increased by two twelve pound carronades, the ammunition, and part of the crew of a
Spanish slaver, abandoned on the bar of Rio Pongo a week before my departure. We
had in all seven guns, and abundance of musketry, pistols and cutlasses, to be wielded
and managed by thirty-seven hands.

By this time the British boats, impelled by oars alone, approached within half a mile,
while the breeze sprang up in cat’s-paws all round the eastern horizon, but without
fanning us with a single breath. Taking advantage of one of these slants, the cruiser
had followed her boats, but now, about five miles off, was again as perfectly becalmed
as we had been all day. Presently, I observed the boats converge within the range of
my swivel, and lay on their oars as if for consultation. I seized this opportunity, while
the enemy was huddled together, to give him the first welcome; and, slewing the
schooner round with my sweeps, I sent him a shot from my swivel. But the ball passed
over their heads, while, with three cheers, they separated,—the largest boat making
directly for our waist, while the others steered to cross our bow and attack our stern.
During the chase my weapons, with the exception of the pivot gun, were altogether
useless, but I kept a couple of sweeps ahead and a couple astern to play the schooner,
and employed that loud-tongued instrument as the foe approached. The larger boat,
bearing a small carronade, was my best target, yet we contrived to miss each other
completely until my sixth discharge, when a double-headed shot raked the whole bank
of starboard oar-blades, and disabled the rowers by the severe concussion. This
paralyzed the launch’s advance, and allowed me to devote my exclusive attention to
the other boats; yet, before I could bring the schooner in a suitable position, a signal
summoned the assailants aboard the cruiser to repair damages. I did not reflect until
this moment of reprieve, that, early in the day, I had hoisted the Portuguese ensign to
deceive the Dane, and imprudently left it aloft in the presence of John Bull! I struck
the false flag at once, unfurled the Spanish, and refreshing the men with a double
allowance of grog and grub, put them again to the sweeps. When the cruisers reached
their vessels, the men instantly re-embarked, while the boats were allowed to swing
alongside, which convinced me that the assault would be renewed as soon as the rum
and roast-beef of Old England had strengthened the heart of the adversary.
Accordingly, noon had not long passed when our pursuers again embarked. Once
more they approached, divided as before, and again we exchanged ineffectual shots. I
kept them at bay with grape and musketry until I hear three o’clock, when a second
signal of retreat was hoisted on the cruiser, and answered by exultant vivas from my
crew. It grieved me, I confess, not to mingle my voice with these shouts, for I was sure
that the lion retreated to make a better spring, nor was I less disheartened when the
mate reported that nearly all the ammunition for our cannons was exhausted. Seven
kegs of powder were still in the magazine, though not more than a dozen rounds of
grape, cannister, or balls, remained in the locker. There was still an abundance of
cartridges for pistols and musketry, but these were poor defences against resolute
Englishmen whose blood was up and who would unquestionably renew the charge
with reinforcements of vigorous men. Fore and aft, high and low, we searched for
missiles. Musket balls were crammed in bags; bolts and nails were packed in cartridge
paper; slave shackles were formed with rope-yarns into chain-shot; and, in an hour,
we were once more tolerably prepared to pepper the foe.

When these labors terminated, I turned my attention to the relaxed crew, portions of
whom refused wine, and began to sulk about the decks. As yet only two had been
slightly scratched by spent musket balls; but so much discontent began to appear
among the passenger-sailors of the wrecked slaver, that my own hands could with
difficulty restrain them from revolt. I felt much difficulty in determining how to act,
but I had no time for deliberation. Violence was clearly not my rôle, but persuasion
was a delicate game in such straits among men whom I did not command with the
absolute authority of a master. I cast my eye over the taffrail, and seeing that the
British boats were still afar, I followed my first impulse, and calling the whole gang to
the quarter-deck, tried the effect of African palaver and Spanish gold. I spoke of the
perils of capture and of the folly of surrendering a slaver while there was the slightest
hope of escape. I painted the unquestionable result of being taken after such resistance
as had already been made. I drew an accurate picture of a tall and dangerous
instrument on which piratical gentlemen have sometimes been known to terminate
their lives; and finally, I attempted to improve the rhythm of my oratory by a couple of
golden ounces to each combatant, and the promise of a slave apiece at the end of our
successful voyage.
My suspense was terrible, as there,—on the deck of a slaver, amid calm, heat, battle,
and mutiny, with a volcano of three hundred and seventy-five imprisoned devils below
me,—I awaited a reply, which, favorable or unfavorable, I must hear without emotion.
Presently, three or four came forward and accepted my offer. I shrugged my shoulders,
and took half a dozen turns up and down the deck. Then, turning to the crowd, I
doubled my bounty, and offering a boat to take the recusants on board the enemy,
swore that I would stand by the Esperanza with my unaided crew in spite of the
dastards!
The offensive word with which I closed the harangue seemed to touch the right string
of the Spanish guitar, and in an instant I saw the dogged heads spring up with a jerk of
mortified pride, while the steward and cabin-boy poured in a fresh supply of wine, and
a shout of union went up from both divisions. I lost no time in confirming my
converts; and, ramming down my eloquence with a wad of doubloons, ordered every
man to his post, for the enemy was again in motion.
But he did not come alone. New actors had appeared on the scene during my
engagement with the crew. The sound of the cannonade had been heard, it seems, by a
consort of his Britannic Majesty’s brig * * * *;[E] and, although the battle was not
within her field of vision, she despatched another squadron of boats under the
guidance of the reports that boomed through the silent air.
The first division of my old assailants was considerably in advance of the
reinforcement; and, in perfect order, approached us in a solid body, with the apparent
determination of boarding on the same side. Accordingly, I brought all my weapons

and hands to that quarter, and told both gunners and musketeers not to fire without
orders. Waiting their discharge I allowed them to get close; but the commander of the
launch seemed to anticipate my plan by the reservation of his fire till he could draw
mine, in order to throw his other boat-loads on board under the smoke of his swivel
and small arms. It was odd to witness our mutual forbearance, nor could I help
laughing, even in the midst of danger, at the mutual checkmate we were trying to
prepare. However, my Britons did not avoid pulling, though they omitted firing, so
that they were already rather perilously close when I thought it best to give them the
contents of my pivot, which I had crammed almost to the muzzle with bolts and
bullets. The discharge paralyzed the advance, while my carronades flung a quantity of
grape into the companion boats. In turn, however, they plied us so deftly with balls
from swivels and musketry, that five of our most valuable defenders writhed in death
on the deck.
The rage of battle at closer quarters than heretofore, and the screams of bleeding
comrades beneath their feet, roused to its fullest extent the ardent nature of my
Spanish crew. They tore their garments; stripped to their waists; called for rum; and
swore they would die rather than yield!
By this time the consort’s reinforcement was rapidly approaching; and, with hurrah
after hurrah, the five fresh boats came on in double column. As they drew within shot,
each cheer was followed with a fatal volley, under which several more of our
combatants were prostrated, while a glancing musket ball lacerated my knee with a
painful wound. For five minutes we met this onset with cannon, muskets, pistols, and
enthusiastic shouts; but in the despairing confusion of the hour, the captain of our long
gun rammed home his ball before the powder, so that when the priming burnt, the
most reliable of our weapons was silent forever! At this moment a round shot from the
launch dismounted a carronade;—our ammunition was wasted;—and in this disabled
state, the Britons prepared to board our crippled craft. Muskets, bayonets, pistols,
swords, and knives, for a space kept them at bay, even at short quarters; but the
crowded boats tumbled their enraged fighters over our forecastle like surges from the
sea, and, cutlass in hand, the victorious furies swept every thing before them. The cry
was to “spare no one!” Down went sailor after sailor, struggling with the frenzied
passion of despair. Presently an order went forth to split the gratings and release the
slaves. I clung to my post and cheered the battle to the last; but when I heard this fatal
command, which, if obeyed, might bury assailant and defender in common ruin, I
ordered the remnant to throw down their arms, while I struck the flag and warned the
rash and testy Englishman to beware.
The senior officer of the boarding party belonged to the division from the cruiser’s
consort. As he reached the deck, his element eye fell sadly on the scene of blood, and
he commanded “quarter” immediately. It was time. The excited boarders from the
repulsed boats had mounted our deck brimming with revenge. Every one that opposed

was cut down without mercy; and in another moment, it is likely I would have joined
the throng of the departed.
All was over! There was a hushed and panting crowd of victors and vanquished on the
bloody deck, when the red ball of the setting sun glared through a crimson haze and
filled the motionless sea with liquid fire. For the first time that day I became sensible
of personal sufferings. A stifling sensation made me gasp for air as I sat down on the
taffrail of my captured schooner, and felt that I was—a prisoner!

FOOTNOTE:
[E] It will be understood by the reader, hereafter, why I omit the cruiser’s name.

CHAPTER XXX.
After a brief pause, the commanding officers of both divisions demanded my papers,
which, while I acknowledged myself his prisoner, I yielded to the senior personage
who had humanely stopped the massacre. I saw that this annoyed the other, whom I
had so frequently repulsed; yet I thought the act fair as well as agreeable to my
feelings, for I considered my crew competent to resist the first division successfully,
had it not been succored by the consort’s boats.
But my decision was not submitted to by the defeated leader without a dispute, which
was conducted with infinite harshness, until the senior ended the quarrel by ordering
his junior to tow the prize within reach of the corvette * * * *. My boat, though
somewhat riddled with balls, was lowered, and I was commanded to go on board the
captor, with my papers and servant under the escort of a midshipman. The captain
stood at the gangway as I approached, and, seeing my bloody knee, ordered me not to
climb the ladder, but to be hoisted on deck and sent below for the immediate care of
my wound. It was hardly more than a severe laceration of flesh, yet was quite enough
to prevent me from bending my knee, though it did not deny locomotion with a stiff
leg.
The dressing over,—during which I had quite a pleasant chat with the amiable
surgeon,—I was summoned to the cabin, where numerous questions were put, all of
which I answered frankly and truly. Thirteen of my crew were slain, and nearly all the
rest wounded. My papers were next inspected, and found to be Spanish. “How was it,
then,” exclaimed the commander, “that you fought under the Portuguese flag?”
Here was the question I always expected, and for which I had in vain taxed my wit
and ingenuity to supply a reasonable excuse! I had nothing to say for the daring
violation of nationality; so I resolved to tell the truth boldly about my dispute with the
Dane, and my desire to deceive him early in the day, but I cautiously omitted the
adroitness with which I had deprived him of his darkies. I confessed that I forgot the
flag when I found I had a different foe from the Dane to contend with, and I flattered
myself with the hope that, had I repulsed the first unaided onset, I would have been
able to escape with the usual sea-breeze.
The captain looked at me in silence a while, and, in a sorrowful voice, asked if I was
aware that my defence under the Portuguese ensign, no matter what tempted its use,
could only be construed as an act of piracy!
A change of color, an earnest gaze at the floor, compressed lips and clenched teeth,
were my only replies.

This painful scrutiny took place before the surgeon, whose looks and expressions
strongly denoted his cordial sympathy with my situation. “Yes,” said Captain * * * *,
“it is a pity for a sailor who fights as bravely as you have done, in defence of what he
considers his property, to be condemned for a combination of mistakes and
forgetfulness. However, let us not hasten matters; you are hungry and want rest, and,
though we are navy-men, and on the coast of Africa, we are not savages.” I was then
directed to remain where I was till further orders, while my servant came below with
an abundant supply of provisions. The captain went on deck, but the doctor remained.
Presently, I saw the surgeon and the commander’s steward busy over a basket of
biscuits, meat and bottles, to the handle of which a cord, several yards in length, was
carefully knotted. After this was arranged, the doctor called for a lamp, and unrolling a
chart, asked whether I knew the position of the vessel. I replied affirmatively, and, at
his request, measured the distance, and noted the course to the nearest land, which was
Cape Verga, about thirty-seven miles off.
“Now, Don Téodore, if I were in your place, with the prospect of a noose and tight-
rope dancing before me, I have not the slightest hesitation in saying that I would make
an attempt to know what Cape Verga is made of before twenty-four hours were over
my head! And see, my good fellow, how Providence, accident, or fortune favors you!
First of all, your own boat happens to be towing astern beneath these very cabin
windows; secondly, a basket of provisions, water and brandy, stands packed on the
transom, almost ready to slip into the boat by itself; next, your boy is in the
neighborhood to help you with the skiff; and, finally, it is pitch dark, perfectly calm,
and there isn’t a sentry to be seen aft the cabin door. Now, good night, my clever
fighter, and let me never have the happiness of seeing your face again!”
As he said this, he rose, shaking my hand with the hearty grasp of a sailor, and, as he
passed my servant, slipped something into his pocket, which proved to be a couple of
sovereigns. Meanwhile, the steward appeared with blankets, which he spread on the
locker; and, blowing out the lamp, went on deck with a “good night.”
It was very still, and unusually dark. There was dead silence in the corvette. Presently,
I crawled softly to the stern window, and lying flat on my stomach over the transom,
peered out into night. There, in reality, was my boat towing astern by a slack line! As I
gazed, some one on deck above me drew in the rope with softest motion, until the
skiff lay close under the windows. Patiently, slowly, cautiously,—fearing the sound of
his fall, and dreading almost the rush of my breath in the profound silence,—I lowered
my boy into the boat. The basket followed. The negro fastened the boat-hook to the
cabin window, and on this, lame as I was, I followed the basket. Fortunately, not a
plash, a crack, or a footfall disturbed the silence. I looked aloft, and no one was visible
on the quarter-deck. A slight jerk brought the boat-rope softly into the water, and I
drifted away into the darkness.

CHAPTER XXXI.
I drifted without a word or motion, and almost without breathing, until the corvette
was perfectly obliterated against the hazy horizon. When every thing was dark around
me, save the guiding stars, I put out the oars and pulled quietly towards the east. At
day-dawn I was apparently alone on the ocean.
My appetite had improved so hugely by the night’s exercise, that my first devotion
was to the basket, which I found crammed with bologña sausages, a piece of salt junk,
part of a ham, abundance of biscuit, four bottles of water, two of brandy, a pocket
compass, a jack-knife, and a large table-cloth or sheet, which the generous doctor had
no doubt inserted to serve as a sail.
The humbled slaver and the slave, for the first time in their lives, broke bread from the
same basket, and drank from the same bottle! Misfortune had strangely and suddenly
levelled us on the basis of common humanity. The day before, he was the most servile
of menials; to-day he was my equal, and, probably, my superior in certain physical
powers, without which I would have perished!
As the sun ascended in the sky, my wound became irritated by exercise, and the
inflammation produced a feverish torment in which I groaned as I lay extended in the
stern-sheets. By noon a breeze sprang up from the south-west, so that the oars and
table-cloth supplied a square sail which wafted us about three miles an hour, while my
boy rigged an awning with the blankets and boat-hooks. Thus, half reclining, I steered
landward till midnight, when I took in the sail and lay-to on the calm ocean till
morning. Next day the breeze again favored us; and, by sundown, I came up with the
coasting canoe of a friendly Mandingo, into which I at once exchanged my quarters,
and falling asleep, never stirred till he landed me on the Islands de Loss.
My wound kept me a close and suffering prisoner in a hut on the isles for ten days
during which I despatched a native canoe some thirty five or forty miles to the Rio
Pongo with news of my disaster, and orders for a boat with an equipment of comforts.
As my clerk neglected to send a suit of clothes, I was obliged to wear the Mandingo
habiliments till I reached my factory, so that during my transit, this dress became the
means of an odd encounter. As I entered the Rio Pongo, a French brigantine near the
bar was the first welcome of civilization that cheered my heart for near a fortnight.
Passing her closely, I drifted alongside, and begged the commander for a bottle of
claret. My brown skin, African raiment, and savage companions satisfied the skipper
that I was a native, so that, with a sneer, he, of course, became very solicitous to know
“where I drank claret last?” and pointing to the sea, desired me to quench my thirst
with brine!

It was rather hard for a suffering Italian to be treated so cavalierly by a Gaul; but I
thanked the fellow for his civility in such excellent French, that his tone instantly
changed, and he asked—“au nom de Dieu, where I had learned the language!” It is
likely I would have rowed off without detection, had I not just then been recognized
by one of his officers who visited my factory the year before.
In a moment the captain was in my boat with a bound, and grasping my hands with a
thousand pardons, insisted I should not ascend the river till I had dined with him. He
promised a plate of capital soup;—and where, I should like to know, is the son of
France or Italy who is ready to withstand the seduction of such a provocative? Besides
this, he insisted on dressing me from his scanty wardrobe; but as he declined all
subsequent remuneration, I confined my bodily improvement to a clean shirt and his
wiry razors.
While the bouillon was bubbling in the coppers, I got an insight into the condition of
Rio Pongo concerns since my departure. The Dane was off after a quarrel with
Ormond, who gave him but a hundred negroes for his cargo; and a Spanish brig was
waiting my arrival,—for the boy I sent home from the Isles de Loss had reported my
engagement, capture, and escape.
La soupe sur la table, we attacked a smoking tureen of bouillon gras, while a heaping
dish of toasted bread stood in the middle. The captain loaded my plate with two slices
of this sunburnt material, which he deluged with a couple of ladles of savory broth. A
long fast is a good sauce, and I need not assert that I began sans façon. My appetite
was sharp, and the vapor of the liquid inviting. For a while there was a dead silence,
save when broken by smacking and relishing lips. Spoonful after spoonful was sucked
in as rapidly as the heat allowed; and, indeed, I hardly took time to bestow a blessing
on the cook. Being the guest of the day, my plate had been the first one served, and of
course, was the first one finished. Perhaps I rather hurried myself, for lenten diet made
me greedy and I was somewhat anxious to anticipate the calls of my companions on
the tureen. Accordingly, I once more ballasted my plate with toast, and, with a
charming bow and a civil “s’il vous plait,” applied, like Oliver Twist, “for more.”
As the captain was helping me to the second ladle, he politely demanded whether I
was “fond of the thick;” and as I replied in the affirmative, he made another dive to
the bottom and brought up the instrument with a heaping mass in whose centre was a
diminutive African skull, face upwards, gaping at the guests with an infernal grin!
My plate fell from my hand at the tureen’s edge. The boiling liquid splashed over the
table. I stood fascinated by the horrible apparition as the captain continued to hold its
dreadful bones in view. Presently my head swam; a painful oppression weighed at my
heart; I was ill; and, in a jiffy, the appalling spectre was laid beneath the calm waters
of the Rio Pongo.

Before sundown I made a speedy retreat from among the anthropophagi; but all their
assurances, oaths, and protestations, could not satisfy me that the broth did not owe its
substance to something more human than an African baboon.

CHAPTER XXXII.
There was rejoicing that night in Kambia among my people, for it is not necessary that
a despised slaver should always be a cruel master. I had many a friend among the
villagers, both there and at Bangalang, and when the “barker” came from the Isles de
Loss with the news of my capture and misery, the settlement had been keenly astir
until it was known that Mongo Téodore was safe and sound among his protectors.
I had a deep, refreshing sleep after a glorious bath. Poor Esther stole over the
palisades of Bangalang to hear the story from my own lips; and, in recompense for the
narrative, gave me an account of the river gossip during my adventure. Next morning,
bright and early, I was again in my boat, sweeping along towards the “Feliz” from
Matanzas, which was anchored within a bowshot of Bangalang. As I rounded a point
in sight of her, the Spanish flag was run up, and as I touched the deck, a dozen cheers
and a gun gave token of a gallant reception in consequence of my battle with the
British, which had been magnified into a perfect Trafalgar.
The Feliz was originally consigned to me from Cuba, but in my absence from the river
her commander thought it best not to intrust so important a charge to my clerk, and
addressed her to Ormond. When my arrival at the Isles de Loss was announced on the
river, his engagement with the Mongo had neither been entirely completed, nor had
any cargo been delivered. Accordingly, the skipper at once taxed his wit for a
contrivance by which he could escape the bargain. In Africa such things are
sometimes done with ease on small pretexts, so that when I reached Kambia my one-
hundred-and-forty-ton brig was ready for her original consignee.
I found that remittances in money and merchandise covered the value of three hundred
and fifty slaves, whom I quickly ordered from different traders;—but when I applied
to the Mongo to furnish his share, the gentleman indignantly refused under the affront
of his recalled assignment. I tried to pacify and persuade him; yet all my efforts were
unavailing. Still, the results of this denial did not affect the Mongo personally and
alone. When a factor either declines or is unable to procure trade at an African station,
the multitude of hangers-on, ragamuffins, servants and villagers around him suffer, at
least, for a time. They cannot understand and are always disgusted when “trade is
refused.” In this case the people of Bangalang seemed peculiarly dissatisfied with
their Mongo’s obstinacy. They accused him of indolent disregard of their interests.
They charged him with culpable neglect. Several free families departed forthwith to
Kambia. His brothers, who were always material sufferers in such cases, upbraided
him with arrogant conceit. His women, headed by Fatimah,—who supplied herself
and her companions with abundant presents out of every fresh cargo,—rose in open

mutiny, and declared they would run off unless he accepted a share of the contract.
Fatimah was the orator of the harem on this as well as on all other occasions of
display or grievance, and of course she did not spare poor Ormond. Age and
drunkenness had made sad inroads on his constitution and looks during the last half
year. His fretful irritability sometimes amounted almost to madness, when thirty
female tongues joined in the chorus of their leader’s assault. They boldly charged him,
singly and in pairs, with every vice and fault that injured matrimony habitually
denounces; and as each item of this abusive litany was screamed in his ears, the
chorus responded with a deep “amen!” They boasted of their infidelities, lauded their
lovers, and producing their children, with laughs of derision, bade him note the
astounding resemblance!
The poor Mongo was sorely beset by these African witches, and summoned his
villagers to subdue the revolt; but many of the town-folks were pets of the girls, so
that no one came forth to obey his bidding.
I visited Ormond at his request on the evening of this rebellion, and found him not
only smarting with the morning’s insult, but so drunk as to be incapable of business.
His revengeful eye and nervous movements denoted a troubled mind. When our hands
met, I found the Mongo’s cold and clammy. I refused wine under a plea of illness; and
when, with incoherent phrases and distracted gestures, he declared his willingness to
retract his refusal and accept a share of the Felix’s cargo, I thought it best to adjourn
the discussion until the following day. Whilst on the point of embarking, I was joined
by the faithless servant, whom I bribed to aid me in my affair with the Dane, and was
told that Ormond had drugged the wine in anticipation of my arrival! He bade me be
wary of the Mongo, who in his presence had threatened my life. That morning, he
said, while the women were upbraiding him, my name had been mentioned by one
with peculiar favor,—when Ormond burst forth with a torrent of passion, and accusing
me as the cause of all his troubles, felled the girl to the earth with his fist.
That night I was roused by my watchman to see a stranger, and found Esther at my
gate with three of her companions. Their tale was brief. Soon after dark, Ormond
entered the harem with loaded pistol, in search of Fatimah and Esther; but the wretch
was so stupefied by liquor and rage, that the women had little trouble to elude his
grasp and escape from Bangalang. Hardly had I bestowed them for the night, when
another alarm brought the watchman once more to my chamber, with the news of
Ormond’s death. He had shot himself through the heart!
I was in no mood for sleep after this, and the first streak of dawn found me at
Bangalang. There lay the Mongo as he fell. No one disturbed his limbs or approached
him till I arrived. He never stirred after the death-wound.
It seems he must have forgotten that the bottle had been specially medicated for me,
as it was found nearly drained; but the last thing distinctly known of him by the

people, was his murderous entrance into the harem to despatch Esther and Fatimah.
Soon after this the crack of a pistol was heard in the garden; and there, stretched
among the cassava plants, with a loaded pistol grasped in his left, and a discharged
one at a short distance from his right hand, laid Jack Ormond, the mulatto! His left
breast was pierced by a ball, the wad of which still clung to the bloody orifice.
Bad as this man was, I could not avoid a sigh for his death. He had been my first
friend in Africa, and I had forfeited his regard through no fault of mine. Besides this,
there are so few on the coast of Africa in these lonely settlements among the
mangrove swamps, who have tasted European civilization, and can converse like
human beings, that the loss even of the worst is a dire calamity. Ormond and myself
had held each other for a long time at a wary distance; yet business forced us together
now and then, and during the truce, we had many a pleasant chat and joyous hour that
would henceforth be lost for ever.
It is customary in this part of Africa to make the burial of a Mongo the occasion of a
colungee, or festival, when all the neighboring chiefs and relations send gifts of food
and beverage for the orgies of death. Messengers had been despatched for Ormond’s
brothers and kinsfolk, so that the native ceremony of interment was postponed till the
third day; and, in the interval, I was desired to make all the preparations in a style
befitting the suicide’s station. Accordingly, I issued the needful orders; directed a deep
grave to be dug under a noble cotton-wood tree, aloof from the village; gave the body
in charge to women, who were to watch it until burial, with cries of sorrow,—and then
retired to Kambia.
On the day of obsequies I came back. At noon a salute was fired by the guns of the
village, which was answered by minute guns from the Feliz and my factory. Seldom
have I heard a sadder sound than the boom of those cannons through the silent forest
and over the waveless water.
Presently, all the neighboring chiefs, princes and kings came in with their retainers,
when the body was brought out into the shade of a grove, so that all might behold it.
Then the procession took up its line of march, while the thirty wives of the Mongo
followed the coffin, clad in rags, their heads shaven, their bodies lacerated with
burning iron, and filling the air with yells and shrieks until the senseless clay was laid
in the grave.
I could find no English prayer-book or Bible in the village, from which I might read
the service of his church over Ormond’s remains, but I had never forgotten the Ave
Maria and Pater Noster I learned when an infant, and, while I recited them devoutly
over the self murderer, I could not help thinking they were even more than sufficient
for the savage surroundings.

The brief prayer was uttered; but it could not be too brief for the impatient crowd. Its
amen was a signal for pandemonium. In a twinkling, every foot rushed back to the
dwelling in Bangalang. The grove was alive with revelry. Stakes and rocks reeked
with roasting bullocks. Here and there, kettles steamed with boiling rice. Demijohn
after demijohn of rum, was served out. Very soon a sham battle was proposed, and
parties were formed. The divisions took their grounds; and, presently, the scouts
appeared, crawling like reptiles on the earth till they ascertained each other’s position,
when the armies rallied forth with guns, bows, arrows, or lances, and, after firing,
shrieking and shouting till they were deaf, retired with captives, and the war was done.
Then came a reinforcement of rum, and then a dance, so that the bewildering revel
continued in all its delirium till rum and humanity gave out together, and reeled to the
earth in drunken sleep! Such was the requiem of
The Mongo of Bangalang!

CHAPTER XXXIII.
Slaves dropped in slowly at Kambia and Bangalang, though I still had half the cargo
of the Feliz to make up. Time was precious, and there was no foreigner on the river to
aid me. In this strait, I suddenly resolved on a foray among the natives on my own
account; and equipping a couple of my largest canoes with an ample armament, as
well as a substantial store of provisions and merchandise, I departed for the Matacan
river, a short stream, unsuitable for vessels of considerable draft. I was prepared for
the purchase of fifty slaves.
I reached my destination without risk or adventure, but had the opportunity of seeing
some new phases of Africanism on my arrival. Most of the coast negroes are
wretchedly degraded by their superstitions and sauvagerie, and it is best to go among
them with power to resist as well as presents to purchase. Their towns did not vary
from the river and bush settlements generally. A house was given me for my
companions and merchandise; yet such was the curiosity to see the “white man,” that
the luckless mansion swarmed with sable bees both inside and out, till I was obliged
to send for his majesty to relieve my sufferings.
After a proper delay, the king made his appearance in all the paraphernalia of African
court-dress. A few fathoms of check girded his loins, while a blue shirt and red
waistcoat were surmounted by a dragoon’s cap with brass ornaments. His countenance
was characteristic of Ethiopia and royalty. A narrow forehead retreated rapidly till it
was lost in the crisp wool, while his eyes were wide apart, and his prominent cheek-
bones formed the base of an inverted cone, the apex of which was his braided beard,
coiled up under his chin. When earnest in talk, his gestures were mostly made with his
head, by straining his eyes to the rim of their sockets, stretching his mouth from ear to
ear, grinning like a baboon, and throwing out his chin horizontally with a sudden jerk.
Notwithstanding these personal oddities, the sovereign was kind, courteous,
hospitable, and disposed for trade. Accordingly, I “dashed,” or presented him and his
head-men a few pieces of cottons, with some pipes, beads, and looking-glasses, by
way of whet for the appetite of to-morrow.
But the division of this gift was no sportive matter. “The spoils” were not regulated
upon principles of superiority, or even of equality; but fell to the lot of the stoutest
scramblers. As soon as the goods were deposited, the various gangs seized my snowy
cottons, dragging them right and left to their several huts, while they shrieked, yelled,
disputed, and fought in true African fashion. Some lucky dog would now and then
leap between two combatants who had possession of the ends of a piece, and whirling
himself rapidly around the middle, slashed the sides with his jack-knife and was off to

the bush. The pipes, beads, and looking-glasses, were not bestowed more tenderly,
while the tobacco was grabbed and appropriated by leaves or handfuls.
Next day we proceeded to formal business. His majesty called a regular “palaver” of
his chiefs and head-men, before whom I stated my dantica and announced the terms.
Very soon several young folks were brought for sale, who, I am sure, never dreamed
at rising from last night’s sleep, that they were destined for Cuban slavery! My
merchandise revived the memory of peccadilloes that had been long forgotten, and
sentences that were forgiven. Jealous husbands, when they tasted my rum, suddenly
remembered their wives’ infidelities, and sold their better halves for more of the
oblivious fluid. In truth I was exalted into a magician, unroofing the village, and
baring its crime and wickedness to the eye of justice. Law became profitable, and
virtue had never reached so high a price! Before night the town was in a turmoil, for
every man cudgelled his brain for an excuse to kidnap his neighbor, so as to share my
commerce. As the village was too small to supply the entire gang of fifty, I had
recourse to the neighboring settlements, where my “barkers,” or agents, did their work
in a masterly manner. Traps were adroitly baited with goods to lead the unwary into
temptation, when the unconscious pilferer was caught by his ambushed foe, and an
hour served to hurry him to the beach as a slave for ever. In fact, five days were
sufficient to stamp my image permanently on the Matacan settlements, and to
associate my memory with any thing but blessings in at least fifty of their families!

I had heard, on the Rio Pongo, of a wonderful wizard who dwelt in this region, and
took advantage of the last day of my detention to inquire his whereabouts. The
impostor was renowned for his wonderful tricks of legerdemain, as well as for cures,
necromancy, and fortune-telling. The ill came to him by scores; credulous warriors
approached him with valuable gifts for fetiches against musket balls and arrows; while
the humbler classes bought his charms against snakes, alligators, sharks, evil spirits,
or sought his protection for their unborn children.
My interpreter had already visited this fellow, and gave such charming accounts of his
skill, that all my people wanted their fates divined, for which I was, of course, obliged
to advance merchandise to purchase at least a gratified curiosity. When they came
back I found every one satisfied with his future lot, and so happy was the chief of my
Kroomen that he danced around his new fetiche of cock’s feathers and sticks, and
snapped his fingers at all the sharks, alligators, and swordfish that swam in the sea.
By degrees these reports tickled my own curiosity to such a degree, that,
incontinently, I armed myself with a quantity of cotton cloth, a brilliant bandanna, and
a lot of tobacco, wherewith I resolved to attack the soothsayer’s den. My credulity

was not involved to the expedition, but I was sincerely anxious to comprehend the
ingenuity or intelligence by which a negro could control the imagination of African
multitudes.
The wizard chose his abode with skilful and romantic taste. Quitting the town by a
path which ascended abruptly from the river, the traveller was forced to climb the
steep by a series of dangerous zig-zags among rocks and bushes, until he reached a
deep cave in an elevated cliff that bent over the stream. As we approached, my
conductor warned the inmate of our coming by several whoops. When we reached the
entrance I was directed to halt until the demon announced his willingness to receive
us. At length, after as much delay as is required in the antechamber of a secretary of
state, a growl, like the cry of a hungry crocodile, gave token of the wizard’s coming.
As he emerged from the deep interior, I descried an uncommonly tall figure, bearing
in his arms a young and living leopard. I could not detect a single lineament of his
face or figure, for he was covered from head to foot in a complete dress of monkey
skins, while his face was hidden by a grotesque white mask. Behind him groped a
delicate blind boy.
We seated ourselves on hides along the floor, when, at my bidding, the interpreter,
unrolling my gifts, announced that I came with full hands to his wizardship, for the
purpose of learning my fortune.
The impostor had trained his tame leopard to fetch and carry like a dog, so that,
without a word, the docile beast bore the various presents to his master. Every thing
was duly measured, examined, or balanced in his hands to ascertain its quality and
weight. Then, placing a bamboo between his lips and the blind boy’s ear, he whispered
the words which the child repeated aloud. First of all, he inquired what I wished to
know? As one of his follower’s boasts was the extraordinary power he possessed of
speaking various languages, I addressed him in Spanish, but as his reply displayed an
evident ignorance of what I said, I took the liberty to reprimand him sharply in his
native tongue. He waved me off with an imperious flourish of his hand, and ordered
me to wait, as he perfectly comprehended my Spanish, but the magic power would not
suffer him to answer save in regular rotation, word by word.
I saw his trick at once, which was only one of prompt and adroit repetition.
Accordingly, I addressed him in his native dialect, and requested a translation of my
sentence into Spanish. But this was a puzzler; though it required but a moment for him
to assure me that a foreign language could only be spoken by wizards of his degree at
the full of the moon!
I thought it time to shift the scene to fortune-telling, and begged my demon to begin
the task by relating the past, in order to confirm my belief in his mastery over the
future. But the nonsense he uttered was so insufferable, that I dropped the curtain with

a run, and commanded “the hereafter” to appear. This, at least, was more romantic. As
usual, I was to be immensely rich. I was to become a great prince. I was to have a
hundred wives; but alas! before six months elapsed, my factory would be burnt and I
should lose a vessel!
Presently, the interpreter proposed an exhibition of legerdemain, and in this I found
considerable amusement to make up for the preceding buffoonery. He knotted a rope,
and untied it with a jerk. He sank a knife deep in his throat, and poured in a vessel of
water. Other deceptions followed this skilful trick, but the cleverest of all was the
handling of red hot iron, which, after covering his hands with a glutinous paste, was
touched in the most fearless manner. I have seen this trick performed by other natives,
and whenever ignited coals or ardent metal was used, the hands of the operator were
copiously anointed with the pasty unguent.
A valedictory growl, and a resumption of the leopard, gave token of the wizard’s
departure, and closed the evening’s entertainments.
If the ease with which a man is amused, surprised, or deluded, is a fair measure of
intellectual grade, I fear that African minds will take a very moderate rank in the scale
of humanity. The task of self-civilization, which resembles the self-filtering of water,
has done but little for Ethiopia in the ages that have passed simultaneously over her
people and the progressive races of other lands. It remains to be seen what the infused
civilization of Christianity and Islamism will effect among these benighted nations.
Jesus, Mahomet, and the Fetiche, will, perhaps, long continue to be their types of
distinctive separation.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
The Esperanza’s capture made it absolutely necessary that I should visit Cuba, so that,
when the Feliz was preparing to depart, I began to put my factory and affairs in such
order as would enable me to embark in her and leave me master of myself for a
considerable time. I may as well record the fact here that the unlucky Esperanza was
sent to Sierra Leone, where she was, of course, condemned as a slaver, while the
officers and crew were despatched by order of the Admiralty, in irons, to Lisbon,
where a tribunal condemned them to the galleys for five years. I understand they were
subsequently released by the clemency of Don Pedro de Braganza when he arrived
from Brazil.
Every thing was ready for our departure. My rice was stored and about to be sent on
board; when, about three o’clock in the morning of the 25th of May, 1828, the voice
of my servant roused me from pleasant dreams, to fly for life! I sprang from the cot
with a bound to the door, where the flickering of a bright flame, reflected through the
thick, misty air, gave token of fire. The roof of my house was in a blaze, and one
hundred and fifty kegs of powder were close at hand beneath a thatch! They could not
be removed, and a single spark from the frail and tinder-like materials might send the
whole in an instant to the skies.
A rapid discharge from a double-barrelled gun brought my people to the spot with
alacrity, and enabled me to rescue the two hundred and twenty slaves stowed in the
barracoon, and march them to a neighboring wood, where they would be secure under
a guard. In my haste to rescue the slaves I forgot to warn my body-servant of his peril
from the powder. The faithful boy made several trips to the dwelling to save my
personal effects, and after removing every thing he had strength to carry, returned to
unchain the bloodhound that always slept beside my couch in Africa. But the dog was
as ignorant of his danger as the youth. He knew no friend but myself, and tearing the
hand that was exposed to save him, he forced his rescuer to fly. And well was it he did
so. Within a minute, a tremendous blast shook the earth, and the prediction of the
Matacan wizard was accomplished! Not even the red coals of my dwelling
smouldered on the earth. Every thing was swept as by the breath of a whirlwind. My
terrified boy, bleeding at nose and ears, was rescued from the ruins of a shallow well
in which he fortunately fell. The bamboo sheds, barracoons, and hovels,—the adobe
dwelling and the comfortable garden—could all spring up again in a short time, as if
by enchantment,—but my rich stuffs, my cottons, my provisions, my arms, my
ammunition, my capital, were dust.

In a few hours, friends crowded round me, according to African custom, with
proffered services to rebuild my establishment; but the heaviest loss I experienced was
that of the rice designed for the voyage, which I could not replace in consequence of
the destruction of my merchandise. In my difficulty, I was finally obliged to swap
some of my two hundred and twenty negroes for the desired commodity, which
enabled me to despatch the Feliz, though I was, of course, obliged to abandon the
voyage in her.
My mind was greatly exercised for some time in endeavors to discover the origin of
this conflagration. The blaze was first observed at the top of one of the gable ends,
which satisfied Ali-Ninpha as well as myself that it was the work of a malicious
incendiary. We adopted a variety of methods to trace or trap the scoundrel, but our
efforts were fruitless, until a strange negro exhibited one of my double-barrelled guns
for sale at a neighboring village, whose chief happened to recognize it. When the
seller was questioned about his possession of the weapon, he alleged that it was
purchased from inland negroes in a distant town. His replies were so unsatisfactory to
the inquisitive chief, that he arrested the suspected felon and sent him to Kambia.
I had but little remorse in adopting any means in my power to extort a confession
from the negro, who very soon admitted that my gun was stolen by a runner from the
wizard of Matacan, who was still hanging about the outskirts of our settlement. I
offered a liberal reward and handsome bribes to get possession of the necromancer
himself, but such was the superstitious awe surrounding his haunt, that no one dared
venture to seize him in his sanctuary, or seduce him within reach of my revenge. This,
however, was not the case in regard to his emissary. I was soon in possession of the
actual thief, and had little difficulty in securing his execution on the ruins he had
made. Before we launched him into eternity, I obtained his confession after an
obstinate resistance, and found with considerable pain that a brother of Ormond, the
suicide, was a principal mover in the affair. The last words of the Mongo had been
reported to this fellow as an injunction of revenge against me, and he very soon
learned from personal experience that Kambia was a serious rival, if not antagonist, to
Bangalang. His African simplicity made him believe that the “red cock” on my roof-
tree would expel me from the river. I was not in a position to pay him back at the
moment, yet I made a vow to give the new Mongo a free passage in irons to Cuba
before many moons. But this, like other rash promises, I never kept.
Sad as was the wreck of my property, the conflagration was fraught with a misfortune
that affected my heart far more deeply than the loss of merchandise. Ever since the
day of my landing at Ormond’s factory, a gentle form had flitted like a fairy among
my fortunes, and always as the minister of kindness and hope. Skilled in the ways of
her double blood, she was my discreet counsellor in many a peril; and, tender as a
well-bred dame of civilized lands, she was ever disposed to promote my happiness by
disinterested offices. But, when we came to number the survivors of the ruin, Esther

was nowhere to be found, nor could I ever trace, among the scattered fragments, the
slightest relic of the Pariah’s form!

Of course, I had very little beside my domestics to leave in charge of any one at
Kambia, and intrusting them to the care of Ali-Ninpha, I went in my launch to Sierra
Leone, where I purchased a schooner that had been condemned by the Mixed
Commission.
In 1829, vessels were publicly sold, and, with very little trouble, equipped for the
coast of Africa. The captures in that region were somewhat like playing a hand,—
taking the tricks, reshuffling the same cards, and dealing again to take more tricks!
Accordingly, I fitted the schooner to receive a cargo of negroes immediately on
quitting port. My crew was made up of men from all nations, captured in prizes; but I
guardedly selected my officers from Spaniards exclusively.
We were slowly wafting along the sea, a day or two out of the British colony, when
the mate fell into chat with a clever lad, who was hanging lazily over the helm. They
spoke of voyages and mishaps, and this led the sailor to declare his recent escape from
a vessel, then in the Rio Nunez, whose mate had poisoned the commander to get
possession of the craft. She had been fitted, he said, at St. Thomas with the feigned
design of coasting; but, when she sailed for Africa, her register was sent back to the
island in a boat to serve some other vessel, while she ventured to the continent without
papers.
I have cause to believe that the slave-trade was rarely conducted upon the honorable
principles between man and man, which, of course, are the only security betwixt
owners, commanders and consignees whose commerce is exclusively contraband.
There were men, it is true, engaged in it, with whom the “point of honor” was more
omnipotent than the dread of law in regular trade. But innumerable cases have
occurred in which the spendthrifts who appropriated their owners’ property on the
coast of Africa, availed themselves of such superior force as they happened to control,
in order to escape detection, or assure a favorable reception in the West Indies. In fact,
the slaver sometimes ripened into something very like a pirate!
In 1828 and 1829, severe engagements took place between Spanish slavers and this
class of contrabandists. Spaniards would assail Portuguese when the occasion was
tempting and propitious. Many a vessel has been fitted in Cuba for these adventures,
and returned to port with a living cargo, purchased by cannon-balls and boarding-
pikes exclusively.

Now, I confess that my notions had become at this epoch somewhat relaxed by my
traffic on the coast, so that I grew to be no better than folks of my cloth. I was fond of
excitement; my craft was sadly in want of a cargo; and, as the mate narrated the
helmsman’s story, the Quixotic idea naturally got control of my brain that I was
destined to become the avenger of the poisoned captain. I will not say that I was
altogether stimulated by the noble spirit of justice; for it is quite possible I would
never have thought of the dead man had not the sailor apprised us that his vessel was
half full of negroes!
As we drifted slowly by the mouth of my old river, I slipped over the bar, and, while I
fitted the schooner with a splendid nine-pounder amidships, I despatched a spy to the
Rio Nunez to report the facts about the poisoning, as well as the armament of the
unregistered slaver. In ten days the runner verified the tale. She was still in the stream,
with one hundred and eighty-five human beings in her hold, but would soon be off
with an entire cargo of two hundred and twenty-five.
The time was extraordinarily propitious. Every thing favored my enterprise. The
number of slaves would exactly fit my schooner. Such a windfall could not be
neglected; and, on the fourth day, I was entering the Rio Nunez under the Portuguese
flag, which I unfurled by virtue of a pass from Sierra Leone to the Cape de Verd
Islands.
I cannot tell whether my spy had been faithless, but when I reached Furcaria, I
perceived that my game had taken wing from her anchorage. Here was a sad
disappointment. The schooner drew too much water to allow a further ascent, and,
moreover, I was unacquainted with the river.
As it was important that I should keep aloof from strangers, I anchored in a quiet spot,
and seizing the first canoe that passed, learned, for a small reward, that the object of
my search was hidden in a bend of the river at the king’s town of Kakundy, which I
could not reach without the pilotage of a certain mulatto, who was alone fit for the
enterprise.
I knew this half-breed as soon as his person was described, but I had little hope of
securing his services, either by fair means or promised recompense. He owed me five
slaves for dealings that took place between us at Kambia, and had always refused so
strenuously to pay, that I felt sure he would be off to the woods as soon as he knew
my presence on the river. Accordingly, I kept my canoemen on the schooner by an
abundant supply of “bitters,” and at midnight landed half a dozen, who proceeded to
the mulatto’s cabin, where he was seized sans ceremonie. The terror of this ruffian
was indescribable when he found himself in my presence,—a captive, as he supposed,
for the debt of flesh. But I soon relieved him, and offered a liberal reward for his
prompt, secret and safe pilotage, to Kakundy. The mulatto was willing, but the stream

was too shallow for my keel. He argued the point so convincingly, that in half an hour,
I relinquished the attempt, and resolved to make “Mahomet come to the mountain.”
The two boats were quickly manned, armed, and supplied with lanterns; and, with
muffled oars, guided by our pilot,—whose skull was kept constantly under the lee of
my pistols—we fell like vampyres on our prey in the darkness.
With a wild hurrah and a blaze of our pistols in the air, we leaped on board, driving
every soul under hatches without striking a blow! Sentries were placed at the cabin
door, forecastle and hatchway. The cable was slipped, my launch took her in tow, the
pilot and myself took charge of the helm, and, before daylight, the prize was alongside
my schooner, transhipping one hundred and ninety-seven of her slaves, with their
necessary supplies.
Great was the surprise of the captured crew when they saw their fate; and great was
the agony of the poisoner, when he returned next morning to the vacant anchorage,
after a night of debauch with the king of Kakundy. First of all, he imagined we were
regular cruisers, and that the captain’s death was about to be avenged. But when it was
discovered that they had fallen into the grasp of friendly slavers, five of his seamen
abandoned their craft and shipped with me.
We had capital stomachs for breakfast after the night’s romance. Hardly was it
swallowed, however, when three canoes came blustering down the stream, filled with
negroes and headed by his majesty. I did not wait for a salutation, but, giving the
warriors a dose of bellicose grape, tripped my anchor, sheeted home my sails, and was
off like an albatross!
The feat was cleverly achieved; but, since then, I have very often been taxed by my
conscience with doubts as to its strict morality! The African slave-trade produces
singular notions of meum and tuum in the minds and hearts of those who dwell for any
length of time on that blighting coast; and it is not unlikely that I was quite as prone to
the infection as better men, who perished under the malady, while I escaped!

CHAPTER XXXV.
It was a sweltering July, and the “rainy season” proved its tremendous power by
almost incessant deluges. In the breathless calms that held me spell-bound on the
coast, the rain came down in such torrents that I often thought the solid water would
bury and submerge our schooner. Now and then, a south-wester and the current would
fan and drift us along; yet the tenth day found us rolling from side to side in the
longitude of the Cape de Verds.
Day broke with one of its customary squalls and showers. As the cloud lifted, my
look-out from the cross-trees announced a sail under our lee. It was invisible from
deck, in the folds of the retreatingmain, but, in the dead calm that followed, the distant
whistle of a boatswain was distinctly audible. Before I could deliberate all my doubts
were solved by a shot in our mainsail, and the crack of a cannon. There could be no
question that the unwelcome visitor was a man-of-war.
It was fortunate that the breeze sprang up after the lull, and enabled us to carry every
thing that could be crowded on our spars. We dashed away before the freshening
wind, like a deer with the unleashed hounds pursuing. The slaves were shifted from
side to side—forward or aft—to aid our sailing. Head-stays were slackened, wedges
knocked off the masts, and every incumbrance cast from the decks into the sea. Now
and then, a fruitless shot from his bow-chasers, reminded the fugitive that the foe was
still on his scent. At last, the cruiser got the range of his guns so perfectly, that a well-
aimed ball ripped away our rail and tore a dangerous splinter from the foremast, three
feet from deck. It was now perilous to carry a press of sail on the same tack with the
weakened spar, whereupon I put the schooner about, and, to my delight, found we
ranged ahead a knot faster on this course than the former. The enemy “went about” as
quickly as we did, but her balls soon fell short of us, and, before noon, we had
crawled so nimbly to windward, that her top-gallants alone were visible above the
horizon.

Our voyage was uncheckered by any occurrence worthy of recollection, save the
accidental loss of the mate in a dark and stormy night, until we approached the
Antilles. Here, where every thing on a slaver assumes the guise of pleasure and relief,
I remarked not only the sullenness of my crew, but a disposition to disobey or neglect.
The second mate,—shipped in the Rio Nunez, and who replaced my lost officer,—was

noticed occasionally in close intercourse with the watch, while his deportment
indicated dissatisfaction, if not mutiny.
A slaver’s life on shore, as well as at sea, makes him wary when another would not be
circumspect, or even apprehensive. The sight of land is commonly the signal for
merriment, for a well-behaved cargo is invariably released from shackles, and allowed
free intercourse between the sexes during daytime on deck. Water tanks are thrown
open for unrestricted use. “The cat” is cast into the sea. Strict discipline is relaxed.
The day of danger or revolt is considered over, and the captain enjoys a new and
refreshing life till the hour of landing. Sailors, with proverbial generosity, share their
biscuits and clothing with the blacks. The women, who are generally without
garments, appear in costume from the wardrobes of tars, petty officers, mates, and
even captains. Sheets, table-cloths, and spare sails, are torn to pieces for raiment,
while shoes, boots, caps, oilcloths, and monkey-jackets, contribute to the gay
masquerade of the “emigrants.”
It was my sincere hope that the first glimpse of the Antilles would have converted my
schooner into a theatre for such a display; but the moodiness of my companions was
so manifest, that I thought it best to meet rebellion half way, by breaking the suspected
officer, and sending him forward, at the same time that I threw his “dog-house”
overboard.[4]
I was now without a reliable officer, and was obliged to call two of the youngest
sailors to my assistance in navigating the schooner. I knew the cook and steward—
both of whom messed aft—to be trustworthy; so that, with four men at my back, and
the blacks below, I felt competent to control my vessel. From that moment, I suffered
no one to approach the quarter-deck nearer than the mainmast.
It was a sweet afternoon when we were floating along the shores of Porto Rico,
tracking our course upon the chart. Suddenly, one of my new assistants approached,
with the sociability common among Spaniards, and, in a quiet tone, asked whether I
would take a cigarillo. As I never smoked, I rejected the offer with thanks, when the
youth immediately dropped the twisted paper on my map. In an instant, I perceived
the ruse, and discovered that the cigarillo was, in fact, a billet rolled to resemble one.
I put it in my mouth, and walked aft until I could throw myself on the deck, with my
head over the stern, so as to open the paper unseen. It disclosed the organization of a
mutiny, under the lead of the broken mate. Our arrival in sight of St. Domingo was to
be the signal of its rupture, and for my immediate landing on the island. Six of the
crew were implicated with the villain, and the boatswain, who was ill in the slave-
hospital, was to share my fate.
My resolution was promptly made. In a few minutes, I had cast a hasty glance into the
arm-chest, and seen that our weapons were in order. Then, mustering ten of the
stoutest and cleverest of my negroes on the quarter-deck, I took the liberty to invent a

little strategic fib, and told them, in the Soosoo dialect, that there were bad men on
board, who wanted to run the schooner ashore among rocks and drown the slaves
while below. At the same time, I gave each a cutlass from the arm-chest, and
supplying my trusty whites with a couple of pistols and a knife apiece, without saying
a word, I seized the ringleader and his colleagues! Irons and double-irons secured the
party to the mainmast or deck, while a drum-head court-martial, composed of the
officers, and presided over by myself, arraigned and tried the scoundrels in much less
time than regular boards ordinarily spend in such investigations. During the inquiry,
we ascertained beyond doubt that the death of the mate was due to false play. He had
been wilfully murdered, as a preliminary to the assault on me, for his colossal stature
and powerful muscles would have made him a dangerous adversary in the seizure of
the craft.
There was, perhaps, a touch of the old-fashioned Inquisition in the mode of our
judicial researches concerning this projected mutiny. We proceeded very much by way
of “confession,” and, whenever the culprit manifested reluctance or hesitation, his
memory was stimulated by a “cat.” Accordingly, at the end of the trial, the mutineers
were already pretty well punished; so that we sentenced the six accomplices to receive
an additional flagellation, and continue ironed till we reached Cuba. But the fate of the
ringleader was not decided so easily. Some were in favor of dropping him overboard,
as he had done with the mate; others proposed to set him adrift on a raft, ballasted
with chains; but I considered both these punishments too cruel, notwithstanding his
treachery, and kept his head beneath the pistol of a sentry till I landed him in shackles
on Turtle Island, with three days food and abundance of water.

FOOTNOTE:
[4] The forecastle and cabin of a slaver are given up to the living freight, while
officers sleep on deck in kennels, technically known as “dog-houses.”

CHAPTER XXXVI.
After all these adventures, I was very near losing the schooner before I got
to land, by one of the perils of the sea, for which I blame myself that I was
not better prepared.
It was the afternoon of a fine day. For some time, I had noticed on the
horizon a low bank of white cloud, which rapidly spread itself over the sky
and water, surrounding us with an impenetrable fog. I apprehended danger;
yet, before I could make the schooner snug to meet the squall, a blast—as
sudden and loud as a thunderbolt—prostrated her nearly on her beam. The
shock was so violent and unforeseen, that the unrestrained slaves, who were
enjoying the fine weather on deck, rolled to leeward till they floundered in
the sea that inundated the scuppers. There was no power in the tiller to
“keep her away” before the blast, for the rudder was almost out of water;
but, fortunately, our mainsail burst in shreds from the bolt-ropes, and,
relieving us from its pressure, allowed the schooner to right under control of
the helm. The West Indian squall abandoned us as rapidly as it assailed, and
I was happy to find that our entire loss did not exceed two slave-children,
who had been carelessly suffered to sit on the rail.

The reader knows that my voyage was an impromptu speculation, without
papers, manifest, register, consignees, or destination. It became necessary,
therefore, that I should exercise a very unusual degree of circumspection,
not only in landing my human cargo, but in selecting a spot from which I
might communicate with proper persons. I had never been in Cuba, save on
the occasion already described, nor were my business transactions extended
beyond the Regla association, by which I was originally sent to Africa.
The day after the “white squall” I found our schooner drifting with a
leading breeze along the southern coast of Cuba, and as the time seemed
favorable, I thought I might as well cut the Gordian knot of dilemma by

landing my cargo in a secluded cove that indented the beach about nine
miles east of Sant’ Iago. If I had been consigned to the spot, I could not
have been more fortunate in my reception. Some sixty yards from the
landing I found the comfortable home of a ranchero who proffered the
hospitality usual in such cases, and devoted a spacious barn to the reception
of my slaves while his family prepared an abundant meal.
As soon as the cargo was safe from the grasp of cruisers, I resolved to
disregard the flagless and paperless craft that bore it safely from Africa, and
being unacquainted in Sant’ Iago, to cross the island towards the capital, in
search of a consignee. Accordingly I mounted a spirited little horse, and
with a montero guide, turned my face once more towards the “ever faithful
city of Havana.”
My companion had a thousand questions for “the captain,” all of which I
answered with so much bonhommie, that we soon became the best friends
imaginable, and chatted over all the scandal of Cuba. I learned from this
man that a cargo had recently been “run” in the neighborhood of Matanzas,
and that its disposal was most successfully managed by a Señor * * *, from
Catalonia.
I slapped my thigh and shouted eureka! It flashed through my mind to trust
this man without further inquiry, and I confess that my decision was based
exclusively upon his sectional nationality. I am partial to the Catalans.
Accordingly, I presented myself at the counting-room of my future
consignee in due time, and “made a clean breast” of the whole transaction,
disclosing the destitute state of my vessel. In a very short period, his
Excellency the Captain-General was made aware of my arrival and
furnished a list of “the Africans,”—by which name the Bosal slaves are
commonly known in Cuba. Nor was the captain of the port neglected. A
convenient blank page of his register was inscribed with the name of my
vessel as having sailed from the port six months before, and this was
backed by a register and muster-roll, in order to secure my unquestionable
entry into a harbor.
Before nightfall every thing was in order with Spanish despatch when
stimulated either by doubloons or the smell of African blood;—and twenty-
four hours afterwards, I was again at the landing with a suit of clothes and

blanket for each of my “domestics.” The schooner was immediately put in
charge of a clever pilot, who undertook the formal duty and name of her
commander, in order to elude the vigilance of all the minor officials whose
conscience had not been lulled by the golden anodyne.
In the meanwhile every attention had been given to the slaves by my
hospitable ranchero. The “head-money” once paid, no body,—civil,
military, foreign, or Spanish—dared interfere with them. Forty-eight hours
of rest, ablution, exercise and feeding, served to recruit the gang and steady
their gait. Nor had the sailors in charge of the party omitted the performance
of their duty as “valets” to the gentlemen and “ladies’ maids” to the
females; so that when the march towards Sant’ Iago began, the procession
might have been considered as “respectable as it was numerous.”
The brokers of the southern emporium made very little delay in finding
purchasers at retail for the entire venture. The returns were, of course, in
cash; and so well did the enterprise turn out, that I forgot the rebellion of
our mutineers, and allowed them to share my bounty with the rest of the
crew. In fact, so pleased was I with the result on inspecting the balance-
sheet, that I resolved to divert myself with the dolce far niente of Cuban
country life for a month at least.
But while I was making ready for this delightful repose, a slight breeze
passed over the calmness of my mirror. I had given, perhaps imprudently,
but certainly with generous motives, a double pay to my men in recompense
of their perilous service on the Rio Nunez. With the usual recklessness of
their craft, they lounged about Havana, boasting of their success, while a
Frenchman of the party,—who had been swindled of his wages at cards,—
appealed to his Consul for relief. By dint of cross questions the Gallic
official extracted the tale of our voyage from his countryman, and took
advantage of the fellow’s destitution to make him a witness against a certain
Don Téodore Canot, who was alleged to be a native of France! Besides
this, the punishment of my mate was exaggerated by the recreant
Frenchman into a most unjustifiable as well as cruel act.
Of course the story was promptly detailed to the Captain-General, who
issued an order for my arrest. But I was too wary and flush to be caught so
easily by the guardian of France’s lilies. No person bearing my name could

be found in the island; and as the schooner had entered port with Spanish
papers, Spanish crew, and was regularly sold, it became manifest to the
stupefied Consul that the sailor’s “yarn” was an entire fabrication. That
night a convenient press-gang, in want of recruits for the royal marine,
seized the braggadocio crew, and as there were no witnesses to corroborate
the Consul’s complaint, it was forthwith dismissed.
Things are managed very cleverly in Havana—when you know how!

CHAPTER XXXVII.
Before I went to sea again, I took a long holiday with full pockets, among
my old friends at Regla and Havana. I thought it possible that a residence in
Cuba for a season, aloof from traders and their transactions, might wean me
from Africa; but three months had hardly elapsed, before I found myself
sailing out of the harbor of St. Jago de Cuba to take, in Jamaica, a cargo of
merchandise for the coast, and then to return and refit for slaves in Cuba.
My voyage began with a gale, which for three days swept us along on a
tolerably good course, but on the night of the third, after snapping my
mainmast on a lee shore, I was forced to beach the schooner in order to save
our lives and cargo from destruction. Fortunately, we effected our landing
with complete success, and at dawn I found my gallant little craft a total
wreck on an uninhabited key. A large tent or pavilion was quickly built from
our sails, sweeps, and remaining spars, beneath which every thing valuable
and undamaged was stored before nightfall. Parties were sent forth to
reconnoitre, while our remaining foremast was unshipped, and planted on
the highest part of the sandbank with a signal of distress. The scouts
returned without consolation. Nothing had been seen except a large dog,
whose neck was encircled with a collar; but as he could not be made to
approach by kindness, I forbade his execution. Neither smoke nor tobacco
freed us of the cloudy swarms of mosquitoes that filled the air after sunset,
and so violent was the irritation of their innumerable stings, that a delicate
boy among the crew became utterly insane, and was not restored till long
after his return to Cuba.
Several sad and weary days passed over us on this desolate key, where our
mode of life brought to my recollection many a similar hour spent by me in
company with Don Rafael and his companions. Vessel after vessel passed
the reef, but none took notice of our signal. At last, on the tenth day of our
imprisonment, a couple of small schooners fanned their way in a nonchalant
manner towards our island, and knowing that we were quite at their mercy,
refused our rescue unless we assented to the most extravagant terms of
compensation. After a good deal of chaffering, it was agreed that the salvors

should land us and our effects at Nassau, New Providence, where the
average should be determined by the lawful tribunal. The voyage was soon
accomplished, and our amiable liberators from the mosquitoes of our island
prison obtained a judicial award of seventy per cent. for their extraordinary
trouble!
The wreck and the wreckers made so formidable an inroad upon my
finances, that I was very happy when I reached Cuba once more, to accept
the berth of sailing-master in a slave brig which was fitting out at St.
Thomas’s, under an experienced Frenchman.
My new craft, the San Pablo, was a trim Brazil-built brig, of rather more
than 300 tons. Her hold contained sixteen twenty-four carronades, while her
magazine was stocked with abundance of ammunition, and her kelson lined,
fore and aft, with round shot and grape. Captain * * *, who had been
described as a Tartar and martinet, received me with much affability, and
seemed charmed when I told him that I conversed fluently not only in
French but in English.
I had hardly arrived and begun to take the dimensions of my new equipage,
when a report ran through the harbor that a Danish cruiser was about to
touch at the island. Of course, every thing was instantly afloat, and in a
bustle to be off. Stores and provisions were tumbled in pell-mell, tanks were
filled with water during the night; and, before dawn, fifty-five ragamuffins
of all castes, colors, and countries, were shipped as crew. By “six bells,”
with a coasting flag at our peak, we were two miles at sea with our main-
topsail aback, receiving six kegs of specie and several chests of clothing
from a lugger.
When we were fairly on “blue water” I discovered that our voyage, though
a slaver’s, was not of an ordinary character. On the second day, the mariners
were provided with two setts of uniform, to be worn on Sundays or when
called to quarters. Gold-laced caps, blue coats with anchor buttons, single
epaulettes, and side arms were distributed to the officers, while a brief
address from the captain on the quarter-deck, apprised all hands that if the
enterprise resulted well, a bounty of one hundred dollars would be paid to
each adventurer.

That night our skipper took me into council and developed his plan, which
was to load in a port in the Mozambique channel. To effect his purpose with
more security, he had provided the brig with an armament sufficient to repel
a man-of-war of equal size—(a fancy I never gave way to)—and on all
occasions, except in presence of a French cruiser, he intended to hoist the
Bourbon lilies, wear the Bourbon uniform, and conduct the vessel in every
way as if she belonged to the royal navy. Nor were the officers to be less
favored than the sailors in regard to double salary, certificates of which
were handed to me for myself and my two subordinates. A memorandum
book was then supplied, containing minute instructions for each day of the
ensuing week, and I was specially charged, as second in command, to be
cautiously punctual in all my duties, and severely just towards my inferiors.
I took some pride in acquitting myself creditably in this new military phase
of a slaver’s life. Very few days sufficed to put the rigging and sails in
perfect condition; to mount my sixteen guns; to drill the men with small
arms as well as artillery; and by paint and sea-craft, to disguise the Saint
Paul as a very respectable cruiser.
In twenty-seven days we touched at the Cape de Verds for provisions, and
shaped our way southward without speaking a single vessel of the multitude
we met, until off the Cape of Good Hope we encountered a stranger who
was evidently bent upon being sociable. Nevertheless, our inhospitable
spirit forced us to hold our course unswervingly, till from peak and main we
saw the white flag and pennant of France unfurled to the wind.
Our drum immediately beat to quarters, while the flag chest was brought on
deck. Presently, the French transport demanded our private signal; which
out of our ample supply, was promptly answered, and the royal ensign of
Portugal set at our peak.
As we approached the Frenchman every thing was made ready for all
hazards;—our guns were double-shotted, our matches lighted, our small
arms distributed. The moment we came within hail, our captain,—who
claimed precedence of the lieutenant of a transport,—spoke the Frenchman;
and, for a while, carried on quite an amiable chat in Portuguese. At last the
stranger requested leave to send his boat aboard with letters for the Isle of
France; to which we consented with the greatest pleasure, though our

captain thought it fair to inform him that we dared not prudently invite his
officers on deck, inasmuch as there were “several cases of small-pox among
our crew, contracted, in all likelihood, at Angola!”
The discharge of an unexpected broadside could not have struck our visitor
with more dismay or horror. The words were hardly spoken when her decks
were in a bustle,—her yards braced sharply to the wind,—and her prow
boiling through the sea, without so much as the compliment of a “bon
voyage!”
Ten days after this ruse d’esclave we anchored at Quillimane, among a lot
of Portuguese and Brazilian slavers, whose sails were either clewed up or
unbent as if for a long delay. We fired a salute of twenty guns and ran up the
French flag. The salvo was quickly answered, while our captain, in the full
uniform of a naval commander, paid his respects to the Governor. Meantime
orders were given me to remain carefully in charge of the ship; to avoid all
intercourse with others; to go through the complete routine and show of a
man-of-war; to strike the yards, haul down signal, and fire a gun at sunset;
but especially to get underway and meet the captain at a small beach off the
port, the instant I saw a certain flag flying from the fort.
I have rarely seen matters conducted more skilfully than they were by this
daring Gaul. Next morning early the Governor’s boat was sent for the
specie; the fourth day disclosed the signal that called us to the beach; the
fifth, sixth, and seventh, supplied us with eight hundred negroes; and, on
the ninth, we were underway for our destination.
The success of this enterprise was more remarkable because fourteen
vessels, waiting cargoes, were at anchor when we arrived, some of which
had been detained in port over fifteen months. To such a pitch had their
impatience risen, that the masters made common cause against all new-
comers, and agreed that each vessel should take its turn for supply
according to date of arrival. But the astuteness of my veteran circumvented
all these plans. His anchorage and non-intercourse as a French man-of-war
lulled every suspicion or intrigue against him, and he adroitly took
advantage of his kegs of specie to win the heart of the authorities and
factors who supplied the slaves.

But wit and cleverness are not all in this world. Our captain returned in high
spirits to his vessel; but we hardly reached the open sea before he was
prostrated with an ague which refused to yield to ordinary remedies, and
finally ripened into fever, that deprived him of reason. Other dangers
thickened around us. We had been several days off the Cape of Good Hope,
buffeting a series of adverse gales, when word was brought me after a night
of weary watching, that several slaves were ill of small-pox. Of all
calamities that occur in the voyage of a slaver, this is the most dreaded and
unmanageable. The news appalled me. Impetuous with anxiety I rushed to
the captain, and regardless of fever or insanity, disclosed the dreadful fact.
He stared at me for a minute as if in doubt; then opening his bureau and
pointing to a long coil of combustible material, said that it communicated
through the decks with the powder magazine, and ordered me to—“blow up
the brig!”
The master’s madness sobered his mate. I lost no time in securing both the
dangerous implement and its perilous owner, while I called the officers into
the cabin for inquiry and consultation as to our desperate state.
The gale had lasted nine days without intermission, and during all this time
with so much violence that it was impossible to take off the gratings, release
the slaves, purify the decks, or rig the wind-sails. When the first lull
occurred, a thorough inspection of the eight hundred was made, and a death
announced. As life had departed during the tempest, a careful inspection of
the body was made, and it was this that first disclosed the pestilence in our
midst. The corpse was silently thrown into the sea, and the malady kept
secret from crew and negroes.
When breakfast was over on that fatal morning, I determined to visit the
slave deck myself, and ordering an abundant supply of lanterns, descended
to the cavern, which still reeked horribly with human vapor, even after
ventilation. But here, alas! I found nine of the negroes infected by the
disease. We took counsel as to the use of laudanum in ridding ourselves
speedily of the sufferers,—a remedy that is seldom and secretly used in
desperate cases to preserve the living from contagion. But it was quickly
resolved that it had already gone too far, when nine were prostrated, to save
the rest by depriving them of life. Accordingly, these wretched beings were
at once sent to the forecastle as a hospital, and given in charge to the

vaccinated or innoculated as nurses. The hold was then ventilated and
limed; yet before the gale abated, our sick list was increased to thirty. The
hospital could hold no more. Twelve of the sailors took the infection, and
fifteen corpses had been cast in the sea!
All reserve was now at an end. Body after body fed the deep, and still the
gale held on. At last, when the wind and waves had lulled so much as to
allow the gratings to be removed from our hatches, our consternation knew
no bounds when we found that nearly all the slaves were dead or dying with
the distemper. I will not dwell on the scene or our sensations. It is a picture
that must gape with all its horrors before the least vivid imagination. Yet
there was no time for languor or sentimental sorrow. Twelve of the stoutest
survivors were ordered to drag out the dead from among the ill, and though
they were constantly drenched with rum to brutalize them, still we were
forced to aid the gang by reckless volunteers from our crew, who, arming
their hands with tarred mittens, flung the fœtid masses of putrefaction into
the sea!
One day was a counterpart of another; and yet the love of life, or, perhaps,
the love of gold, made us fight the monster with a courage that became a
better cause. At length death was satisfied, but not until the eight hundred
beings we had shipped in high health had dwindled to four hundred and
ninety-seven skeletons!

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
The San Pablo might have been considered entitled to a “clean bill of
health” by the time she reached the equator. The dead left space, food, and
water for the living, and very little restraint was imposed on the squalid
remnant. None were shackled after the outbreak of the fatal plague, so that
in a short time the survivors began to fatten for the market to which they
were hastening. But such was not the fate of our captain. The fever and
delirium had long left him, yet a dysenteric tendency,—the result of a
former malady,—suddenly supervened, and the worthy gentleman rapidly
declined. His nerves gave way so thoroughly, that from fanciful weakness
he lapsed into helpless hypochondria. One of his pet ideas was that a
copious dose of calomel would ensure his restoration to perfect health.
Unfortunately, however, during the prevalence of the plague, our medicine
chest had one day been accidentally left exposed, and our mercury was
abstracted. Still there was no use to attempt calming him with the assurance
that his nostrum could not be had. The more we argued the impossibility of
supplying him, the more was he urgent and imperative for the sanative
mineral.
In this dilemma I ordered a bright look-out to be kept for merchantmen
from whom I hoped to obtain the desirable drug. At last a sail was reported
two points under our lee, and as her canvas was both patched and dark, I
considered her a harmless Briton who might be approached with impunity.
It proved to be a brig from Belfast, in Ireland; but when I overhauled the
skipper and desired him to send a boat on board, he declined the invitation
and kept his course. A second and third command shared the same fate. I
was somewhat nettled by this disregard of my flag, pennant, and starboard
epaulette, and ordering the brig to be run alongside, I made her fast to the
recusant, and boarded with ten men.
Our reception was, of course, not very amicable, though no show of
resistance was made by officers or crew. I informed the captain that my
object in stopping him was entirely one of mercy, and repeated the request I

had previously made through the speaking trumpet. Still, the stubborn
Scotchman persisted in denying the medicine, though I offered him
payment in silver or gold. Thereupon, I commanded the mate to produce his
log-book, and, under my dictation, to note the visit of the San Pablo, my
request, and its churlish denial. This being done to my satisfaction, I
ordered two of my hands to search for the medicine chest, which turned out
to be a sorry receptacle of stale drugs, though fortunately containing an
abundance of calomel. I did not parley about appropriating a third of the
mineral, for which I counted five silver dollars on the cabin table. But the
metal was no sooner exhibited than my Scotchman refused it with disdain. I
handed it, however, to the mate, and exacted a receipt, which was noted in
the log-book.
As I put my leg over the taffrail, I tried once more to smooth the bristles of
the terrier, but a snarl and a snap repaid me for my good humor.
Nevertheless, I resolved “to heap coals of fire on the head” of the ingrate;
and, before I cast off our lashings, threw on his deck a dozen yams, a bag of
frijoles, a barrel of pork, a couple of sacks of white Spanish biscuits,—and,
with a cheer, bade him adieu.
But there was no balm in calomel for the captain. Scotch physic could not
save him. He declined day by day; yet the energy of his hard nature kept
him alive when other men would have sunk, and enabled him to command
even from his sick bed.
It was always our Sabbath service to drum the men to quarters and exercise
them with cannons and small arms. One Sunday, after the routine was over,
the dying man desired to inspect his crew, and was carried to the quarter-
deck on a mattress. Each sailor marched in front of him and was allowed to
take his hand; after which he called them around in a body, and announced
his apprehension that death would claim him before our destination was
reached. Then, without previously apprising us of his design, he proceeded
to make a verbal testament, and enjoined it upon all as a duty to his memory
to obey implicitly. If the San Pablo arrived safely in port, he desired that
every officer and mariner should be paid the promised bounty, and that the
proceeds of cargo should be sent to his family in Nantz. But, if it happened
that we were attacked by a cruiser, and the brig was saved by the risk and
valor of a defence,—then, he directed that one half the voyage’s avails

should be shared between officers and crew, while one quarter was sent to
his friends in France, and the other given to me. His sailing-master and
Cuban consignees were to be the executors of this salt water document.
We were now well advanced north-westwardly on our voyage, and in every
cloud could see a promise of the continuing trade-wind, which was shortly
to end a luckless voyage. From deck to royal,—from flying-jib to ring-tail,
every stitch of canvas that would draw was packed and crowded on the
brig. Vessels were daily seen in numbers, but none appeared suspicious till
we got far to the westward, when my glass detected a cruising schooner,
jogging along under easy sail. I ordered the helmsman to keep his course;
and taughtening sheets, braces, and halyards, went into the cabin to receive
the final orders of our commander.
He received my story with his usual bravery, nor was he startled when a
boom from the cruiser’s gun announced her in chase. He pointed to one of
his drawers and told me to take out its contents. I handed him three flags,
which he carefully unrolled, and displayed the ensigns of Spain, Denmark,
and Portugal, in each of which I found a set of papers suitable for the San
Pablo. In a feeble voice he desired me to select a nationality; and, when I
chose the Spanish, he grasped my hand, pointed to the door, and bade me
not to surrender.
When I reached the deck, I found our pursuer gaining on us with the utmost
speed. She outsailed us—two to one. Escape was altogether out of the
question; yet I resolved to show the inquisitive stranger our mettle, by
keeping my course, firing a gun, and hoisting my Spanish signals at peak
and main.
At this time the San Pablo was spinning along finely at the rate of about six
knots an hour, when a shot from the schooner fell close to our stern. In a
moment I ordered in studding-sails alow and aloft, and as my men had been
trained to their duty in man-of-war fashion, I hoped to impose on the cruiser
by the style and perfection of the manœuvre. Still, however, she kept her
way, and, in four hours after discovery, was within half gun-shot of the brig.
Hitherto I had not touched my armament, but I selected this moment to load
under the enemy’s eyes, and, at the word of command, to fling open the
ports and run out my barkers. The act was performed to a charm by my