TAKEN PRISONER.
Next day my father went on shore again, and I was kept to work on board,
where I much chafed in consequence of the stripe down my face, which was
of a deep reddish brown, and which all the scrubbing I could manage
seemed not to have the slightest effect in removing. Jack Adams
comforted me by saying that it would not come off for six weeks or more,
scrub and scrape as I liked.
Towards the evening there were signs of a tornado; and Willie, who was
fully alive to the responsibilities of his new position as first mate,
sent the upper yards on deck, and told one of the Kruboys to go up to
the mast-head to look out for our father coming off.
Two Glass, who was intrusted with this duty, soon reported that he could
see the boat being got ready, and then that she was launched and coming
off. Suddenly he gave a great yell and sung out, “Boat capsize; all men
lib for water.” I instantly ran up aloft, and Willie sent me my
spy-glass up by the signal halyards, and I could make out the boat
rolling over and over in the surf, and the heads of men swimming. After
a little the boat washed up on the beach, and then we could see the crew
crawling out of the water one by one. I anxiously watched to see if my
father was safe, and at last made him out being helped up the beach by
the Kruboys. “Hurrah, Willie! he’s safe,” I shouted, “and not hurt,” as
I made out that he was walking about giving directions about the boat,
which I could see had had a large hole knocked in her bottom.
I came down on deck, where Willie was giving orders for the other
surf-boat to be manned and to go ashore, as he was sure that if possible
my father would come on board, as the weather was now very threatening.
I begged and prayed to be allowed to go; but Willie said no, I was to
stay on board. I did not feel inclined to obey, and just as the boat was
going to shove off I jumped into her, and as time was pressing, the wind
and sea both rising rapidly, Willie did not insist on my coming back.
Before we had got half-way ashore it was blowing very hard indeed, and
Fore-topsail two or three times wished to put back to the brig; but I
taunted him with being afraid, and he said, “Me no fraid, lilly massa,
but surf make plenty bad. S’pose boat capsize and massa drown, what
capen say?”
“Never mind; the captain wants to get on board. Give way, give way!”
“Bery good.--Pull, boys, pull,” he answered, and the boat’s crew bent
to their paddles with renewed energy. But do all that they could, they
could not make the place for entering the surf abreast of Mr. Macarthy’s
factory, but were driven up to where Pentlea had landed the night
before. We had taken so long to reach this spot that the sun had already
set before we headed direct for the beach.
The first line of breakers was passed in safety. We were about to cross
the second when a squall came down, accompanied by heavy rain; and
notwithstanding all Fore-topsails struggles at the steer oar, we were
broadside on, and in another instant we were all struggling in the
water.
I have an idea of struggling and of the sound as of thousands of tons of
water being dashed over me, but I very soon lost all consciousness. When
I came to myself I found I was in a small room lighted only by a small
hole about six inches square, through which the rays of the moon were
pouring, and I could see by them that the place was perfectly empty. My
clothes were wet, and I was cold and shivering, and had a racking
headache. At first I lay quite still, feeling too bad to have any
interest in where I was or what had happened to me; but soon I began to
think, and then I remembered leaving the brig, and the capsizing of the
surf-boat.
Where was I? and what had happened since the capsize? became now
pressing problems to be solved. I was not drowned, nor, as far as I
could make out, injured; but who could have put me in this wretched
cell without anything to lie on, and without even changing my wet
clothes? I must have been saved by some one from drowning; but whoever
that some one was, he did not seem to care much about my comfort.
I got up from the corner where I was lying and began to examine my
prison--for such I supposed the place I was in must be--and could only
feel the rough planks of which the walls and door were composed, and
quantities of dust, of cockroaches as big as young sparrows, and of
other loathsome insects.
The little hole through which the moon shone was high up, and it was
with great difficulty that I managed to jump up so as to hook my fingers
on the lower edge and draw myself up and look out. Outside was a deep
veranda, and I could see the beach, and the surf thundering in, and
beyond the ships lying at anchor, rolling about, their black spars
showing distinctly against the bright moonlight. I puzzled to make out
which was the _Petrel_, but at last I did so, and then I knew by her
position with regard to the others that I must be in Souza’s factory. I
hung on as long as I could, and counting the vessels at anchor in a
mechanical way, I made out that two topsail schooners had come in since
I left the _Petrel_. I could not remain long at the window, and I slid
down, and soon found that combating the cockroaches, which were flying
about, hitting me in the face and sticking in my hair, gave me a
considerable amount of employment; and notwithstanding that my clothes
were still wet, I soon was bathed in perspiration.
After a time I smelt tobacco smoke, and then I heard footsteps on the
veranda outside and chairs being pulled about. Presently I heard
Pentlea’s voice calling for a boy to bring some brandy and a cooler of
water. I now remained as quiet as I possibly could, and tried to listen
for any conversation.
Evidently there were three or four men present, and I heard the names of
Camacho and Souza frequently mentioned; and though I could understand
nothing, as the conversation was carried on in Spanish, I gathered that
both of these worthies as well as Pentlea were present, and that after a
time other persons joined them who were either English or American, to
judge from the oaths which studded their conversation plentifully.
Their conversation lasted a long time, and at last I made out that
Camacho, Souza, and Pentlea went away and left the others to smoke and
drink by themselves.
Soon they commenced to speak, and their voices sounded like music in my
ears, for they spoke in English, and I hoped from their conversation to
learn something of what had happened. At first all they said was, “Pass
the bottle,” “Give me a light,” and such-like phrases; but at last one
said, “Strike me silly but Simon’s a cute one.”
“How so, Bill? He’s robbed his skipper, and he’s safe here. The
caboceers ain’t such fools as to give up a gentleman as deals in black
ivory.”
“No, it ain’t that; but to watch the brig so close as to know that the
skipper’s cub left in the boat, and to have the beach watched to pick
him up.”
“How so? what good is he to us?”
“Lots. Simon hates his skipper, and now he can play him with his son.
But there’s news that one of those abominable English steamers is coming
here. The _Rover_ sailed as soon as her captain heard we were at Cape
Mount, and we got the news it was not safe here sharp. We must get away
as soon as we can. Camacho has about fifty slaves, and they will be sent
aboard; and the boy we’ll take with us too, and he’ll be useful to
Simon.”
A boy now came and summoned these two worthies away, and almost directly
after the door of my den was opened, and Pentlea, carrying a lantern,
appeared, followed by three or four negroes, who stripped me of my
clothes and rubbed me all over with some stuff which made me quite
black.
Pentlea looked on approvingly, and said, “Now, Master Frank, you are a
nice little nigger, and the people searching the beach for you won’t
know you.”
As he said this a ray of hope darted into my mind, for I thought that
surely I might call out who I was, and then some one would notice that a
slave spoke English, which could not be a common thing on the Whydah
beach.
As soon as I was well blacked over, and my hair cut close off, so as not
to betray my European blood, I was taken down to a courtyard where there
were a number of slaves, and was roped into the middle of a string of
five. Pentlea, as soon as this was done, struck me and said, “Now, you
whelp, you will have a chance of learning about niggers; you’ll soon
know as much as your Livingstone you’re always prating about.”
“O Mr. Pentlea,” I answered, “what do you want to do to me? Only let me
go, and I’m sure my father will never do anything against you.”
“No, he would not, I daresay; but I’ve old scores against your father,
though he don’t know it, and I intend to square yards with him before
I’ve done.”
“Why, my father was always kind to you.”
“Kind? ha, ha! D’ye suppose I mean in the _Petrel_? No, boy; my debt is
of old standing. I should have been a rich man but for your father
sending two cruisers after me. I lost my ship and my cargo and nearly my
life. Now I have you--that counts for one slave--and I’ll have the
_Petrel_ too before very long.”
“Let me go, do let me go. I’m sure my father will pay you to let me go.”
“No, you hound; I’ve made up my mind. And you shan’t have a chance to
make a noise on the beach.” He proceeded to give orders to have me
gagged, which was immediately done by a big negro who seemed to be a
sort of driver.
The gates of the courtyard were now opened, and the slaves were driven
out on the beach and packed into the bottom of two big surf-boats, which
were launched and paddled through the surf and alongside one of the
schooners, which turned out to be our old acquaintance the _Santa
Maria_. As soon as we were on deck I was unfastened from the slaves to
whom I had been bound, and the gag was removed. The slaves were at once
sent down to the hold, and a man whom I recognized as being one of those
who had been drinking outside in the veranda said to me, “Here, you
younker, I guess you’d better lay aft and keep quiet.”
I did as I was told, and in a few minutes I heard the anchor weighed,
and the _Santa Maria_ and her consort were slipping out to sea before
the land breeze.
For several days nothing particular happened. I was made to do all sorts
of work about the decks, and wait in the cabin on Camacho, Pentlea, and
the Yankee who had spoken to me when I came on board; and though I was
not well treated, still I could not complain of any absolute cruelty. We
had the usual alternations of wind and calm, sunshine and rain. Once or
twice the appearance of smoke on the horizon, or the heaving in sight of
some ship whose spars were more than usually lofty, gave a fright to my
captors, who dreaded that the stranger might turn out to be a man-of-war
come in chase of us. But at last we arrived at the mouth of a large
river, up which Pentlea, who seemed thoroughly acquainted with the
place, piloted the _Santa Maria_, taking her into a small creek, where,
when her topmasts were sent on deck, she was perfectly invisible from
the main stream, and where the _Santiago_ was soon moored alongside of
her.
The two schooners were anchored so that their guns should command the
entrance. Some of the guns were landed and put in small forts on either
side which had evidently been constructed for a long time. The schooners
had not long been in this hiding-place before canoes began to flock
round them, and as far as I could make out arrangements were being made
for the captains of the slavers to pay a visit to the chief of a big
town close by, to enter into negotiations for filling their holds with
slaves.
I looked at the trees on shore--cocoa-nut and oil palms growing in
groves close to where we were lying, and plantations of bananas giving
sign of the proximity of villages. Though I was but a captive, I could
not help wishing for a trip ashore; and as I knew it was useless to ask
Pentlea, I waited until he had quitted the schooner, and then went to
the American mate, who had been kinder to me than any other person on
board, and made my request to him, saying, “Please, Mr. Silas, may I go
ashore?”
He looked at me in astonishment, rolling his quid in his mouth, and
said, “Etarnal thunder, what does the boy want? I guess, young feller,
you’d best not let Pentlea see you going ashore. Jest you polish that
brass work on the binnacle.”
I saw that there was no chance of getting ashore, and slowly obeyed his
orders. Soon a boat came from the _Santiago_, in which was a man who, as
soon as he came on deck, said, “Mornin’, Silas. I guess, now the bosses
are ashore, we may as well have a talk together as stop one in each
schooner.”
“Reckon that’s so,” said Silas. “What d’ye think, Reuben?--there’s that
lad Pentlea carried off from the Britisher wants to go ashore.”
“Waal, I kinder think that wouldn’t suit friend Simon; it’s the last
place in the hull coast whar that lad should land.”
“How so? I guess thar’s nought but alligators, snakes, and niggers
about,--nare a Britisher to be seen or smelt.”
“Guess Simon and Camacho keep their tongues quiet. It’s jest the bisness
I wished to overhaul along of you--why we come here.”
“Sartain sure we comed here for nigs, you bet your hide.”
“We’ve come for nigs--true, sir, for you--but we’ve come for more.”
“How now, mate? Don’t keep backin’ and fillin’, but jest out with what
you have to say plain.”
“Waal, that Simon’s a deep one, and he’s jest made Camacho fall in with
him. The brig the lad came from comes here to trade. Her old man has
made a book with the fellow they calls King Okopa here; and Okopa has
oil, ivory, and rubber ready, so when the brig comes she can load
quick.”
“Why, how does that go? I guess Simon ain’t too cute; for if the
Britisher guesses we’re here, he’ll off and set some of their bull-dogs
after us.”
“I reckon Pentlea and Camacho won’t let him.”
“How, mate, can he stop it?”
“Not so difficult. Simon, he’s real bad and bitter; for the skipper of
the brig laid a cruiser on him some four years back, and he lost his
ship. And now he says to Camacho we can get the brig, and her cargo’ll
pay for slaves to fill her and both schooners.”
“But, mate, I say that’s piracy.”
“Waal, ain’t slaving piracy?”
“Not so. It stands to reason as nigs was made for slaves; but to rob
white men, that’s a different guess sort of thing.”
“I don’t care much for the job myself, but the fellows we have here will
do for Camacho what he says; and though when we meets a man-of-war we
hoists the gridiron and oysters, and we’s American captains, and has
papers all c’rect, still we ain’t nought but the two mates when all’s
said and done.”
“That’s so. So long as no murder goes on I don’t care much. Let Camacho
and Pentlea manage their own business. Let’s go down and liquor.”
As soon as I heard this conversation commencing I had left off cleaning
the binnacle and slipped out into the main-chains, where I could hear
every word they said; and when they went below I slipped forward and
made them wait a long time before I answered their call to bring them
brandy and water and fire for their pipes.
Evidently neither had thought anything of me, and they were now engaged
in a game of euchre, and were so absorbed in it that they thought of
nothing else save their brandy and pipes. As soon as I had supplied
their wants I went to the main chains again, as being the place where I
was least likely to be disturbed by any of the crew, and tried to
consider what had best be done. It was evident that this place was one
where my father traded, which was not much frequented by ordinary
traders, and where he therefore could get quicker and larger profits
than elsewhere; and that Pentlea was going to take the opportunity of
the _Petrel_ calling here to try to make himself master of her.