ROBBERY AND DESERTION.
Breezes and current both favouring us, we soon arrived off Cape Palmas,
where we were to ship our Kruboys. The advent of the brig flying my
father’s flag (black with a red diamond in the middle) was the signal
for the whole sea to be covered with Kru canoes paddling off in the
hopes that their occupants might be engaged on board. How the little
narrow craft managed to come across the surf which we saw rolling in on
the beach was a wonder to me. It was curious to see the way in which the
black fellows managed their tiny canoes. If in their struggle to get
alongside these were capsized, they managed instantly to right them and
empty the water out of them; and all the time they kept on crying out
that they were the right men, and those who had already managed to
clamber on board were “bad mans, tiefs, and niggers,”--the last term
being the most opprobrious of all the epithets comprised in their
vocabulary.
At first they overran the whole upper deck, shouting and bawling and
finding out their old friends among the crew, and begging odds and ends
from Black Bill in the galley. On my father recognizing one of the men
who had sailed with him before, he called to him and asked where his old
head-man Frying Pan was.
“Frying Pan, sah, lib for make country; yam time, sah.”
“What for he go country when _Petrel_ come?”
“Oh, he no sabey _Petrel_ lib for come; but one, two hour he catch.”
“Yes, one, two hour, and all men make plenty bobbery.”
“Me sabey you no like bobbery plenty much. S’pose you make sure Frying
Pan head-man one time, me make bobbery plenty quiet.”
“What, you. Bottle of Beer! they won’t listen to you.”
“Plenty true, sah, Bottle of Beer picaninny no sabey stop bobbery; but
Frying Pan brother, Flying Jib, him lib and be head-man for true: he
make palaver plenty strong--bobbery stop one time.”
“Very well; call Flying Jib. Where is he?”
“He lib for canoe,” answered Bottle of Beer; and jumping overboard, he
swam to a canoe in which a tall Kruman was sitting, being paddled by two
others.
As soon as Bottle of Beer told this man, who was Flying Jib, that he was
wanted, he put his canoe alongside, and springing into the main chains,
clambered over the nettings, and coming to where my father was
standing, pulled off a very dilapidated tall hat, which was his only
article of clothing besides a handkerchief round his waist, and said,--
“Marnin, capen; what you wish?”
“Why your brother no lib for come? You sabey I no like bobbery in my
ship. Plenty boy make bobbery.”
“Frying Pan lib for him small country, catch yam. One time see capen
flag, me send boy, run tell him _Petrel_ libs.”
“All right; now tell those fellows to be quiet. Clear out all but your
own and Frying Pan’s men.”
“All right, sah,” said Flying Jib; and with Bottle of Beer and some
other men whom he called to him, they drove the majority of the Kruboys
overboard, where they soon regained their canoes and paddled after the
brig until she came to an anchor.
Flying Jib’s boys now furled sails, squared yards, and coiled down
ropes; and just as they were finished Frying Pan himself came off. He
had dressed himself somewhat for his appearance on board the _Petrel_,
and had on a tall hat ornamented with peacock’s feathers, a sailor’s
shirt and trousers, and round his neck a brass chain, from which hung a
plate on which was engraved, “Frying Pan, Captain Baldwin’s head
Kruman,” and of which he seemed very proud.
“How now, Frying Pan?” said my father; “why you no be here one time when
ship come?”
“Sorry, sah, but lib for small country; now catch tree wive, and he make
plant yam.”
“All right now; make your boys fall in and I will see whom we will
take.”
“Bery good; see two surf-boat lib. He want ten men for each and one
bosun--dat be two tens and two bosuns; now for work hold ten men--dat be
tree ten; and want tree cook.”
“Yes, I want thirty men, and you can have two bosuns; but you must make
the men cook for themselves.”
“Bery good.--Here, Fore-topsl, you catch ten men; Billy Barlow, you
catch ten; and me catch ten myself.”
Soon Frying Pan, with his two “bosuns,” had the thirty men required
ranged on the quarter-deck; and my father told me to write all their
names down after he had inspected them and seen that none of them were
suffering from guinea-worm or any other illness.
My list of names, as might be expected from those we have already heard,
was a curious one. Among them there were Fore-topsail and Billy Barlow,
the two “bosuns” as they were called, who were to be coxswains of the
surf-boats, our old acquaintance Bottle of Beer, Two Glass, Billy Duff,
Liverpool Jack, Bristol Tom, Sunday, Mexican Joe, and Little Billy, the
last being over six feet in height. As soon as they were entered they
turned to work at once; and Flying Jib, having received a “dash” or
present and a glass of grog, left the ship.
The two surf-boats were got out and hoisted up to davits which were
shipped for them. On either side of the waist and awning ridge ropes
were rove and awnings spread, and the _Petrel_ assumed her regular
African appearance, derricks being got up over the fore and main hatches
for getting cargo in and out, while Frying Pan’s own canoe was lashed
under the main-chains.
The Kruboys had a cooking place made for them out of a large shallow box
full of sand, in which they could light a fire to boil their rations of
rice, which formed their principal food, and which was supplemented by
biscuits and small quantities of salt fish and salt pork which had been
shipped specially for their use.
As soon as all had shaken down and the Kruboys had been told off into
their watches, we got under way again for Whydah, which was the next
port we were to call at, and where we arrived without any incident
worthy of notice.
The English portion of the crew were now principally employed in
overhauling sails and other light and easy work. The only work connected
with sailing the ship which now fell to their lot was taking the weather
helm and heaving the lead, and in this latter duty the leadsman was
assisted by a Kruman, who hauled in the lead for him after it had been
hove.
Off Whydah we found four or five ships at anchor, and one of the brigs
of the West African squadron. Soon after we anchored, my father went on
shore in one of the surf-boats, steered by Fore-topsail, to see the
agent in charge of the factory with which he was in the habit of doing
business, while Willie and I were told to prepare the customs for the
King of Dahomey, and the presents for the caboceers in charge of the
beach at Whydah.
My father had not left the ship above half an hour before Mr. Pentlea
ordered the other surf-boat to be manned, saying that he was going on
shore too. This astonished Willie very much, as he knew that our father
was very particular that the chief officer should not be on shore at the
same time as himself; and he ventured to say as much to Mr. Pentlea, who
told him that it was all right, and that he had something to do on shore
for which he had received the captain’s permission.
Of course Willie could say nothing, and came back to me in the
trade-room, where we had several bales open, selecting different kinds
of cloth for the king and caboceers; and Jack Adams, who was busy with
us, said,--
“I can’t fathom this nohow. I know Captain Baldwin would never give
leave for the mate to be ashore, especially in a place like Whydah, when
he is out of the ship himself.”
“Well, Jack,” said Willie, “what can I do? While the captain is out of
the ship I must obey Mr. Pentlea’s orders.”
“That’s true; but you might send a note to the captain, sir.”
“Certainly, I can do that.”
Willie at once went to the cabin with the intention of writing a letter
to our father; but Mr. Pentlea, seeing him going in, said, “What are you
going into the cabin for? go and attend to your work;” and a few minutes
afterwards he sent Willie and myself aloft to the fore and main topmast
cross-trees to examine, as he said, the eyes of the topmast rigging.
While we were still aloft he got into the surf-boat, into which he had
four bales of valuable cloth put, and shoved off; and from aloft both
Willie and I could see that the boat was making for quite a different
part of the beach from that where the factory to which our father had
gone was situated.
As soon as he had left we both came down from aloft and went to the
cabin, which we found locked. We sent for Warspite the steward, who said
that on coming into the cabin to ask if Mr. Pentlea required anything
before going on shore, he was told to go forward and mind his own
business.
Willie and I were very much puzzled what to do, for evidently Mr.
Pentlea had taken the key of the cabin with him, and wherever he was
going he certainly was not going to see our father. In our dilemma, we
called Jack Adams and Sam Peters to advise with us, and after some
consideration we determined that I should go over the stern in a
bowline, and through the stern-posts take a survey of the cabin. I could
see, when I looked in, that all the doors of the berths were fastened,
but that evidently the lockers round the stern had been overhauled and
ransacked.
I tried to get in through a stern-port, but found that I was too big to
manage it, and called to Willie to have me hauled up again; and when I
was on the poop, I reported the results of my examination. We now
thought that the best thing to do would be to break open the cabin door;
and Sentall the carpenter bringing his tools, we soon effected an
entrance, and found a scene of confusion which far surpassed what I had
expected from my glimpse through the port.
All the drawers and lockers had been opened, and their contents were
strown in all directions, and a chest in which my father kept his money
and the ship’s papers had been emptied of its contents.
“How can I send to my father?” said Willie. “The blackguard has robbed
us, and with both surf-boats away we cannot send ashore.”
“Surely, sir,” said Sam Peters, “you have Frying Pan’s canoe; he can
take a piece of paper ashore in that.”
“Certainly, I had not thought of it; pass the word for Frying Pan.”
Frying Pan soon came, and seeing the state of the cabin, said,--
“Dat mate be bad tief man; me always tink him bad.”
“That may be, Frying Pan,” answered Willie; “but now I want you take
book one time to captain.”
Frying Pan ran up on deck at once, and by the time Willie had written
the letter (or book as the Krumen called it) his canoe was in the water,
and with Bottle of Beer as his companion, he was ready to start to tell
our father of the desertion of Simon and his stealing the contents of
his chest.
We had caused a watch to be kept on Pentlea from the mast-heads, and the
sharp eyes of the Kruboys who were intrusted with this duty made out
that on landing he went straight up to a large factory flying the
Portuguese flag, and that the surf-boat was hauled up and there were no
signs of her coming off again.
As soon as Frying Pan had started we began to try to put things in
order, and soon found that Pentlea had been malicious as well as a
thief, for the ship’s chronometer and barometer were both broken; and we
found that Camacho’s doubloons, as well as a considerable sum in English
gold which my father had in the chest, had been taken.
“I suppose we shall be able to catch him,” I said.
“No, sir,” said Sam Peters; “that factory he has gone to is a regular
slaving-shop, and he will be away to Lagos or Porto Novo before the
captain can get the caboceers to look for him.”
“Well, what must we do, Willie?” I said.
“We can do nothing except get things as straight as we can, and then go
on with what we were doing before the blackguard bolted. Look here; he
has even broken open my desk and stolen my watch and what little money
I had locked up!”
“He certainly made the most of his time; he can’t have had more than ten
minutes to himself here.”
Warspite was told to get order restored in the cabin; and Willie and I
returned to the trade-room, where we found that the four bales we had
seen passed into the boat were composed of very costly silks which were
intended specially for presents to big chiefs, and which had been
brought there for us to select presents for the King of Dahomey and his
caboceers.
Jack Adams and Sam Peters came down to us, and they said they thought we
should have stopped Pentlea from leaving the ship. “But then,” they
said, “he gave his orders, and no one could disobey him.”
“It’s no use crying over spilt milk,” said my brother. “I could not have
gone against the mate’s orders, and none of us could know what he was
doing in the cabin.”
While we were discussing the flight of Pentlea and sorting the cloths
according to a list left for us by my father, Warspite came running into
the trade-room, bringing with him a couple of small manuscript books
which he said he had found in Pentlea’s berth, and which contained a
number of entries about anchorages in the bights and oil rivers, and
also about the Gaboon and Congo, with notes about the numbers of slaves
shipped at different places.
“Why, the man is a regular slaver! See in this book there are names of
ships and their captains. Why, there are all the vessels of the
squadron--which are steamers, and which can sail best off and on a wind;
and, hallo! here is a full description of the _Petrel_ and a list of the
places we are going to.”
I looked over Willie’s shoulder as he turned the leaves of the books
over, and saw that evidently these were memoranda of what Pentlea had
considered the capabilities of our brig, and among them he had noted
that she might easily carry two hundred and fifty slaves.
“What! does he intend to take her?” I said.
“Never mind,” said Sam Peters, “forewarned is forearmed; and I don’t
think that any Jack Spaniards of the lot will be able to take a Bristol
brig manned by Bristol men.”
“Just you two keep this quiet,” said Willie to Peters and Adams; “and
you, Warspite, if you say a word about it you’ll be sent to work with
the Kruboys.”
Just as he said this the look-out men hailed that the captain was coming
off, and we were very glad to think that he would soon be among us and
able to judge for himself what should be done.