It was a sweltering July, and the "rainy season" proved its tremendous
power by almost incessant deluges. In the breathless calms that held
me spell-bound on the coast, the rain came down in such torrents that
I often thought the solid water would bury and submerge our schooner.
Now and then, a south-wester and the current would fan and drift us
along; yet the tenth day found us rolling from side to side in the
longitude of the Cape de Verds.
Day broke with one of its customary squalls and showers. As the cloud
lifted, my look-out from the cross-trees announced a sail under our
lee. It was invisible from deck, in the folds of the retreatingmain,
but, in the dead calm that followed, the distant whistle of a
boatswain was distinctly audible. Before I could deliberate all my
doubts were solved by a shot in our mainsail, and the crack of a
cannon. There could be no question that the unwelcome visitor was a
man-of-war.
It was fortunate that the breeze sprang up after the lull, and enabled
us to carry every thing that could be crowded on our spars. We dashed
away before the freshening wind, like a deer with the unleashed hounds
pursuing. The slaves were shifted from side to side--forward or
aft--to aid our sailing. Head-stays were slackened, wedges knocked off
the masts, and every incumbrance cast from the decks into the sea.
Now and then, a fruitless shot from his bow-chasers, reminded the
fugitive that the foe was still on his scent. At last, the cruiser got
the range of his guns so perfectly, that a well-aimed ball ripped away
our rail and tore a dangerous splinter from the foremast, three feet
from deck. It was now perilous to carry a press of sail on the same
tack with the weakened spar, whereupon I put the schooner about, and,
to my delight, found we ranged ahead a knot faster on this course than
the former. The enemy "went about" as quickly as we did, but her balls
soon fell short of us, and, before noon, we had crawled so nimbly to
windward, that her top-gallants alone were visible above the horizon.
* * * * *
Our voyage was uncheckered by any occurrence worthy of recollection,
save the accidental loss of the mate in a dark and stormy night, until
we approached the Antilles. Here, where every thing on a slaver
assumes the guise of pleasure and relief, I remarked not only the
sullenness of my crew, but a disposition to disobey or neglect. The
second mate,--shipped in the Rio Nunez, and who replaced my lost
officer,--was noticed occasionally in close intercourse with the
watch, while his deportment indicated dissatisfaction, if not mutiny.
A slaver's life on shore, as well as at sea, makes him wary when
another would not be circumspect, or even apprehensive. The sight of
land is commonly the signal for merriment, for a well-behaved cargo is
invariably released from shackles, and allowed free intercourse
between the sexes during daytime on deck. Water tanks are thrown open
for unrestricted use. "The cat" is cast into the sea. Strict
discipline is relaxed. The day of danger or revolt is considered over,
and the captain enjoys a new and refreshing life till the hour of
landing. Sailors, with proverbial generosity, share their biscuits and
clothing with the blacks. The women, who are generally without
garments, appear in costume from the wardrobes of tars, petty
officers, mates, and even captains. Sheets, table-cloths, and spare
sails, are torn to pieces for raiment, while shoes, boots, caps,
oilcloths, and monkey-jackets, contribute to the gay masquerade of the
"emigrants."
It was my sincere hope that the first glimpse of the Antilles would
have converted my schooner into a theatre for such a display; but the
moodiness of my companions was so manifest, that I thought it best to
meet rebellion half way, by breaking the suspected officer, and
sending him forward, at the same time that I threw his "dog-house"
overboard.[4]
I was now without a reliable officer, and was obliged to call two of
the youngest sailors to my assistance in navigating the schooner. I
knew the cook and steward--both of whom messed aft--to be trustworthy;
so that, with four men at my back, and the blacks below, I felt
competent to control my vessel. From that moment, I suffered no one to
approach the quarter-deck nearer than the mainmast.
It was a sweet afternoon when we were floating along the shores of
Porto Rico, tracking our course upon the chart. Suddenly, one of my
new assistants approached, with the sociability common among
Spaniards, and, in a quiet tone, asked whether I would take a
_cigarillo_. As I never smoked, I rejected the offer with thanks, when
the youth immediately dropped the twisted paper on my map. In an
instant, I perceived the _ruse_, and discovered that the _cigarillo_
was, in fact, a _billet_ rolled to resemble one. I put it in my mouth,
and walked aft until I could throw myself on the deck, with my head
over the stern, so as to open the paper unseen. It disclosed the
organization of a mutiny, under the lead of the broken mate. Our
arrival in sight of St. Domingo was to be the signal of its rupture,
and for my immediate landing on the island. Six of the crew were
implicated with the villain, and the boatswain, who was ill in the
slave-hospital, was to share my fate.
My resolution was promptly made. In a few minutes, I had cast a hasty
glance into the arm-chest, and seen that our weapons were in order.
Then, mustering ten of the stoutest and cleverest of my negroes on the
quarter-deck, I took the liberty to invent a little strategic fib, and
told them, in the Soosoo dialect, that there were bad men on board,
who wanted to run the schooner ashore among rocks and drown the slaves
while below. At the same time, I gave each a cutlass from the
arm-chest, and supplying my trusty whites with a couple of pistols and
a knife apiece, without saying a word, I seized the ringleader and his
colleagues! Irons and double-irons secured the party to the mainmast
or deck, while a drum-head court-martial, composed of the officers,
and presided over by myself, arraigned and tried the scoundrels in
much less time than regular boards ordinarily spend in such
investigations. During the inquiry, we ascertained beyond doubt that
the death of the mate was due to false play. He had been wilfully
murdered, as a preliminary to the assault on me, for his colossal
stature and powerful muscles would have made him a dangerous adversary
in the seizure of the craft.
There was, perhaps, a touch of the old-fashioned Inquisition in the
mode of our judicial researches concerning this projected mutiny. We
proceeded very much by way of "confession," and, whenever the culprit
manifested reluctance or hesitation, his memory was stimulated by a
"cat." Accordingly, at the end of the trial, the mutineers were
already pretty well punished; so that we sentenced the six accomplices
to receive an additional flagellation, and continue ironed till we
reached Cuba. But the fate of the ringleader was not decided so
easily. Some were in favor of dropping him overboard, as he had done
with the mate; others proposed to set him adrift on a raft, ballasted
with chains; but I considered both these punishments too cruel,
notwithstanding his treachery, and kept his head beneath the pistol of
a sentry till I landed him in shackles on Turtle Island, with three
days food and abundance of water.
FOOTNOTE:
[4] The forecastle and cabin of a slaver are given up to the living
freight, while officers sleep on deck in kennels, technically known as
"dog-houses."