Gloomy night had began her reign, and dread silence prevailed in and
about the habitations that were situated on the banks of the Niger*; and
nought was there to interrupt the gloom, save man, _savage-civilized_
man; who, conscious that the deed he perpetrates is unfit for the sun to
be witness of, makes choice of this solemn hour, when the sad victims to
his avarice are fast locked in the arms of sleep and innocence, to
accomplish his nefarious designs.
[* A great River in Africa.]
On such an hour as hath my pen pourtrayed, forth rushed from a bark that
bore proud Albion’s flag, several, who had long been the acknowledged
possessors of what are called “_hearts of oak_”--(perhaps the title
never suited more exactly). The base commander had taken the advantage
of unguarded innocence, and to accumulate wealth, purloined his fellow
man. The “Free Briton” was converted into a Slave ship, and became a
prison for Afric’s ill-fated sons.
Near to the shore the vessel lay, until its _honourable_ master had seen
stowed in its hold, far from Aurora’s soul-reviving beams, sufficient of
those beings that were formed in the exact image of his Creator, to
complete his cargo, spread his canvass to the gentle breeze. The ship,
as if partaking in some degree of the spirit of its commander, proudly
mounted the white top’d billows, and exulting in the numbers she was
conducting to their destined port to partake of the bitter draught of
slavery, flew before the wind.
Hitherto the winds had been propitious, and nought had intervened to
disturb the pleasure of the crew. Half the distance had the vessel
measured; and so certain were they of soon beholding the Island of
Barbadoes, that they could have sworn they would have reached it ere a
week had finished. But righteous Heaven, who, alas! is the only
protector of inoffending mortals, grieved to see a portion of its
creatures thus abused, sent to the eyes of the eager crew, a ship, that
bore engines (not of torture, although navigated by infidels) of war. On
her stern majestically waved Britannia’s flag. Lured by the bait, the
eager crew hastened to greet their brethren. Already was the Captain
situated in a place conspicuous, in order to deliver the accustomed
salutation; when oh! a death-blow was given to all their
expectations---they beheld an Algerine corsair. Too late to retreat they
were soon taken possession of, and themselves made prisoners.