There is no river at the New Sestros settlement, though geographers,
with their usual accuracy in African outlines, have often projected
one on charts and maps. Two miles from the short and perilous beach
where I built my _barracoons_, there was a slender stream, which, in
consequence of its shallow bed, and narrow, rock-bound entrance, the
natives call "Poor River;" but my factory was at New Sestros _proper_;
and there, as I have said, there was no water outlet from the
interior; in fact, nothing but an embayed strand of two hundred yards,
flanked by dangerous cliffs. Such a beach, open to the broad ocean and
for ever exposed to the fall rage of its storms, is of course more or
less dangerous at all times for landing; and, even when the air is
perfectly calm, the common surf of the sea pours inward with
tremendous and combing waves, which threaten the boats of all who
venture among them without experienced skill. Indeed, the landing at
New Sestros would be impracticable were it not for the dexterous
Kroomen, whose canoes sever and surmount the billows in spite of their
terrific power.
Kroomen and Fishmen are different people from the Bushmen. The two
former classes inhabit the sea-shore exclusively, and living apart
from other African tribes, are governed by their elders under a
somewhat democratic system. The Bushmen do not suffer the Kroos and
Fishes to trade with the interior; but, in recompense for the
monopoly of traffic with the strongholds of Africa's heart, these
expert boatmen maintain despotic sway along the beach in trade with
the shipping. As European or Yankee boats cannot live in the surf I
have described, the Kroo and Fishmen have an advantage over their
brothers of the Bush, as well as over the whites, which they are not
backward in using to their profit. In fact, the Bushmen fight, travel,
steal and trade, while the Kroos and Fishes, who for ages have fringed
at least seven hundred miles of African coast, constitute the
mariners, without whose skill and boldness slaves would be drugs in
caravans or _barracoons_. And this is especially the case since
British, French, and American cruisers have driven the traffic from
every nook and corner of the west coast that even resembled _a
harbor_, and forced the slavers to lay in wait in open roadsteads for
their prey.
The Kroo canoe, wedge-like at both ends, is hollowed from the solid
trunk of a tree to the thickness of an inch. Of course they are so
light and buoyant that they not only lie like a feather on the surface
of the sea, so as to require nothing but freedom from water for their
safety, but a canoe, capable of containing four people, may be borne
on the shoulders of one or two to any reasonable distance.
Accordingly, Kroomen and Fishmen are the prime pets of all slavers,
traders, and men-of-war that frequent the west coast of Africa; while
no one dwelling on the shore, engaged in commerce, is particularly
anxious to merit or receive their displeasure.
When I landed at New Sestros, I promptly supplied myself with a little
fleet of these amphibious natives; and, as the news of my liberality
spread north and south along the shore, the number of my retainers
increased with rapidity. Indeed, in six months a couple of rival
towns,--one of Kroos and the other of Fishes,--hailed me severally as
their "Commodore" and "Consul." With such auxiliaries constantly at
hand, I rarely feared the surf when the shipment of slaves was
necessary. At Gallinas, under the immediate eye of Don Pedro, the most
elaborate care was taken to secure an ample supply of these people and
their boats, and I doubt not that the multitude employed in the
establishment's prime, could, at a favorable moment, despatch at least
a thousand slaves within the space of four hours. Yet I have heard
from Kroomen at Gallinas the most harrowing tales of disaster
connected with the shipment of negroes from that perilous bar. Even in
the dry season, the mouth of this river is frequently dangerous, and,
with all the adroitness they could display, the Kroos could not save
boat-load after boat-load from becoming food for the ravenous sharks!
* * * * *
I was quite afloat at New Sestros on the tide of success, when the
cruiser that for a while had annoyed me with a blockade, became short
of food, and was obliged to bear away for Sierra Leone. My well paid
spy--a Krooman who had been employed by the cruiser--soon apprised me
of the brig's departure and its cause; so that in an hour the beach
was in a bustle, despatching a swift canoe to Gallinas with a message
to Don Pedro:--"The coast is clear:--send me a vessel:--relieve my
plethora!"
Forty-eight hours were hardly over when the twin masts of a clipper
brig were seen scraping along the edge of the horizon, with the
well-known signal for "embarkation." I was undoubtedly prepared to
welcome my guest, for Kroos, Fishes, Bushmen, Bassas and all, had been
alert since daybreak, ready to hail the craft and receive their fees.
There had been a general embargo on all sea-going folks for a day
before, so that there was not a fish to be had for love or money in
the settlement. Minute precautions like these are absolutely necessary
for all prudent slavers, for it was likely that the cruiser kept a spy
in her pay among _my_ people, as well as I did among _hers_!
All, therefore, was exceedingly comfortable, so far as ordinary
judgment could foresee; but alas! the moon was full, and the African
surf at such periods is fearfully terrific. As I listened from my
piazza or gazed from my _bellevue_, it roared on the strand like the
charge of interminable cavalry. My watchful enemy had been several
days absent, and I expected her return from hour to hour. The
shipment, though extremely perilous, was, therefore indispensable; and
four short hours of daylight alone remained to complete it. I saw the
risk, yet, taking counsel with the head Kroo and Fishmen, I persuaded
them, under the provocation of triple reward, to attempt the
enterprise with the smallest skiffs and stoutest rowers, while a band
of lusty youths stood by to plunge in whenever the breakers capsized a
canoe.
We began with females, as the most difficult cargo for embarkation,
and seventy reached the brig safely. Then followed the stronger sex;
but by this time a sea-breeze set in from the south-west like a young
gale, and driving the rollers with greater rapidity, upset almost
every alternate cockleshell set adrift with its living freight. It was
fortunate that our sharks happened that evening to be on a frolic
elsewhere, so that negro after negro was rescued from the brine,
though the sun was rapidly sinking when but two thirds of my slaves
were safely shipped.
I ran up and down the beach, in a fever of anxiety, shouting,
encouraging, coaxing, appealing, and _refreshing_ the boatmen and
swimmers; but as the gangs came ashore, they sank exhausted on the
beach, refusing to stir. Rum, which hitherto roused them like
electricity, was now powerless. Powder they did not want, nor muskets,
nor ordinary trade stuff, for they never engaged in kidnapping or
slave wars.
As night approached the wind increased. _There_ was the brig with
topsails aback, signalling impatiently for despatch; but never was
luckless factor more at fault! I was on the eve of giving up in
despair, when a bright flash brought to recollection a quantity of
Venetian beads of mock coral which I had stowed in my chest. They
happened, at that moment, to be the rage among the girls of our beach,
and were of course irresistible keys to the heart of every belle. Now
the smile of a lip has the same magical power in Africa as elsewhere;
and the offer of a coral bunch for each head embarked, brought all the
dames and damsels of Sestros to my aid. Such a shower of chatter was
never heard out of a canary cage. Mothers, sisters, daughters, wives,
sweethearts, took charge of the embarkation by coaxing or commanding
their respective gentlemen; and, before the sun's rim dipped below the
horizon, a few strands of false coral, or the kiss of a negro wench,
sent one hundred more of the Africans into Spanish slavery.
But this effort exhausted my people. The charm of beads and beauty
was over: Three slaves found a tomb in the sharks, or a grave in the
deep, while the brig took flight in the darkness without the remaining
one hundred and twenty I had designed for her hold.
Next morning the cruiser loomed once more in the offing, and, in a fit
of impetuous benevolence, I hurried a Krooman aboard, with the offer
of my compliments, and a _sincere_ hope that I could render some
service!