Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African Slaver
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 _debauche_. 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