It was my habit to employ at New Sestros a clerk, store-keeper, and
four seamen, all of whom were whites of reliable character, competent
to aid me efficiently in the control of my _barracoons_.
One of these sailors died of dropsy while in my service; and, as I
write, the memory of his death flashes across my mind so vividly, that
I cannot help recording it among the characteristic events of African
coast-life.
Sanchez, I think, was by birth a Spaniard; at least his perfect
familiarity with the language, as well as name and appearance, induced
me to believe that the greater part of his life must have been spent
under the shield of Saint Iago. The poor fellow was ill for a long
time, but in Africa, existence is so much a long-drawn malady, that we
hardly heeded his bloated flesh or cadaverous skin, as he sat, day
after day, musket in hand, at the gate of our barracoon. At last,
however, his confinement to bed was announced, and every remedy within
our knowledge applied for relief. This time, however, the summons was
peremptory; the sentence was final; there was no reprieve.
On the morning of his death, the sufferer desired me to be called,
and, sending away the African nurse and the two old comrades who
watched faithfully at his bedside, explained that he felt his end
approaching, yet could not depart without easing his soul by
_confession_!
"Here, Don Teodor," said he, "are five ounces of gold--all I have
saved in this world,--the lees of my life,--which I want you to take
care of, and when I am dead send to my sister, who is married to ----,
in Matanzas. Will you promise?"
I promised.
"And now, Don Teodor," continued he, "I must _confess_!"
I could not repress a smile as I replied,--"But, Jose, I am no
_padre_, you know; a _clerigo_ in no part of a slave factory; I cannot
absolve your sins; and, as for my _prayers_, poor fellow, alas! what
can they do for your sins when I fear they will hardly avail for my
own!"
"It's all one, _mi capitan_" answered the dying man; "it makes not the
least difference, Don Teodor, if you are a clergyman or any thing
else; it is the law of our church; and when confession is over, a
man's soul is easier under canvas, even if there's no regular _padre_
at hand to loosen the ropes, and let one's sins fly to the four winds
of heaven. Listen,--it will be short.
"It is many years since I sailed from Havana with that notorious
slaver, Miguel ----, whose murder you may have heard of on the coast.
Our vessel was in capital order for speed as well as cargo, and we
reached Cape Mount after a quick voyage. The place, however, was so
bare of slaves, that we coasted the reefs till we learned from a
Mesurado Krooman that, in less than a month, the supply at Little
Bassa would be abundant. We shipped the savage with his boatman, and
next day reached our destination.
"Miguel was welcomed warmly by the chiefs, who offered a choice lot of
negroes for a portion of our cargo, inviting the captain to tarry with
the rest of his merchandise and establish a factory. He assented; our
brig was sent home with a short cargo, while I and two others landed
with the captain, to aid in the erection and defence of the requisite
buildings.
"It did not take long to set up our bamboo houses and open a trade,
for whose supply Miguel began an intercourse with Cape Mesurado,
paying in doubloons and receiving his merchandise in vessels manned by
American blacks.
"Our captain was no niggard in housekeeping. Bountiful meals every
day supplied his friends and factory. No man went from his door hungry
or dissatisfied. When the colonists came up in their boats with goods,
or walked the beach from the Cape to our settlement, Miguel was always
alert with a welcome. A great intimacy, of course, ensued; and, among
the whole crowd of traffickers, none were higher in our chief's
estimation than a certain T----, who rarely visited the _barracoons_
without a gift from Miguel, in addition to his stipulated pay.
"In due time the brig returned from Havana, with a cargo of rum,
tobacco, powder, and _a box of doubloons_; but she was ordered to the
Cape de Verds to change her flag. In the interval, the Mesurado
colonists picked a quarrel with the Trade-Town chiefs, and, aided by
an American vessel, under Colombian colors, landed a division of
colonial troops and destroyed the Spanish barracoons.[G]
"The ruin of a Spanish factory could not be regarded by our captain
with any other feeling than that of resentment. Still, he manifested
his sensibility by coolness towards the colonists, or by refraining
from that _profitable_ welcome to which they had hitherto been
accustomed. But the Monrovians were not to be rebuffed by disdain.
They had heard, I suppose, of the box of doubloons, and Miguel was 'a
good fellow,' in spite of his frigidity. They were _his_ friends for
ever, and all the harm that had been done his countrymen was
attributable alone to their Colombian foes, and not to the colonists.
Such were the constant declarations of the Monrovians, as they came,
singly and in squads, to visit us after the Trade-Town plunder. T----,
in particular, was loud in his protestations of regard; and such was
the earnestness of his manner, that Miguel, by degrees, restored him
to confidence.
"Thus, for a while, all things went smoothly, till T---- reached our
anchorage, with several passengers in his craft, bound, as they said,
to Grand Bassa. As usual on such visits, the whole party dined with
Miguel at four in the afternoon, and, at six, retired towards their
vessel, with a gift of provisions and liquor for their voyage.
"About eight o'clock, a knocking at our gates--closed invariably at
dark, according to custom--gave notice that our recent guests had
returned. They craved hospitality for the night. They had dallied a
couple of hours on the beach, with the hope of getting off, but the
surf was so perilous that no Kroomen would venture to convey them
through the breakers.
"Such an appeal was, of course, enough for the heart of a courteous
Spaniard,--and, on the coast, you know, it is imperative. Miguel
opened the door, and, in an instant, fell dead on the threshold, with
a ball in his skull. Several guns were discharged, and the house
filled with colonists. At the moment of attack I was busy in the
_barracoon_; but, as soon as I came forth, the assailants approached
in such numbers that I leaped the barriers and hid myself in the
forest till discovered by some friendly natives.
"I remained with these Africans several weeks, while a canoe was
summoned from Gallinas for my rescue. From thence I sailed to Cuba,
and was the first to apprise our owners of the piratical onslaught by
which the factory had been destroyed.
"After this, I made several successful voyages to the coast; and, at
last, sauntering one evening along the _paseo_ at Havana, I met Don
Miguel's brother, who, after a sorrowful chat about the tragedy,
offered me a quarter-master's berth in a brig he was fitting out for
Africa. It was accepted on the spot.
"In a month we were off Mesurado, and cruised for several days from
the cape to Grand Bassa, avoiding every square-rigged vessel that
loomed above the horizon. At length, we espied a small craft beating
down the coast. We bore the stranger company for several hours, till,
suddenly taking advantage of her long tack out to sea, we gave chase
and cut off her return towards land.
"It was a fine afternoon, and the sun was yet an hour in the sky when
we intercepted the schooner. As we ran alongside, I thought I
recognized the faces of several who, in days of old, wore familiar in
our factory,--but what was my surprise, when T---- himself came to
the gangway, and hailed us in Spanish!
"I pointed out the miscreant to my comrade, and, in an instant, he was
in our clutches. We let the sun go down before we contrived a proper
death for the felon. His five companions, double-ironed, were nailed
beneath the hatches in the hold. After this, we riveted the murderer,
in chains, to the mainmast, and, for better security, fastened his
spread arms to the deck by spikes through his hands. Every sail was
then set on the craft, two barrels of tar were poured over the planks,
and a brand was thrown in the midst of the combustible materials. For
a while, the schooner was held by a hawser till we saw the flames
spread from stern to cut-water, and then, with a cheer, _adios_! It
was a beautiful sight,--that _auto-da-fe_, on the sea, in the
darkness!
"My confession, Don Teodor, is over. From that day, I have never been
within a church or alongside a _padre_; but I could not die without
sending the gold to my sister, and begging a mass in some parish for
the rest of my soul!"
I felt very conscious that I was by no means the person to afford
ghostly consolation to a dying man under such circumstances, but while
I promised to fulfil his request carefully, I could not help inquiring
whether he sincerely repented these atrocious deeds?
"Ah! yes, Don Teodor, a thousand times! Many a night, when alone on my
watch at sea, or in yonder stockade, marching up and down before the
_barracoon_, I have wept like a child for the innocent crew of that
little schooner; but, as for the murderer of _Don Miguel_--!" He
stared wildly for a minute into my eyes--shuddered--fell back--was
dead!
I have no doubt the outlaw's story contained exaggerations, or fell
from a wrecked mind that was drifting into eternity on the current of
delirium. I cannot credit his charge against the Monrovian colonists;
yet I recount the narrative as an illustration of many a bloody scene
that has stained the borders of Africa.
FOOTNOTE:
[G] The reader will recollect this is not CANOT'S story, but the
sailor's.