Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African Slaver
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 manoeuvre 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