Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African Slaver
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 Teodore, 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 bologna
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