Chapter 13

A second night passed--a third came, and few were saved. We remained on the beach to afford all the aid in our power to those still on the wreck. What occurred on board was not known to us till afterwards. The Frenchmen endeavoured to launch one of their largest boats, but discipline was at an end. In vain the officers ordered the men to keep back--it was right that the sick and wounded should first be removed. No one obeyed; a hundred and fifty men crowded into her. They shoved off, a sea rushed on, they were hid from view; the shattered boat and their lifeless corpses alone reached the shore. Eight hundred human beings, it is supposed, had by this time perished. Those few who now reached the shore, aided chiefly, I have a right to boast, by my party, reported the dreadful condition of the remainder. Numbers were dying of hunger; the decks were covered with corpses; expedients too horrible to be believed for sustaining life had been proposed. A fourth day came, and with it a more serene sky. The sea went down. "A sail! a sail!" A man-of-war brig and an armed cutter appeared. Their boats quickly approached, but the sea still broke so violently over the wreck that they were unable to get alongside. The famishing survivors, therefore, constructed some rafts, to be towed off by the boats, but many of those who ventured on them were swept away by the surf. About a hundred and fifty were, however, conveyed on board the brig that evening, leaving still nearly four hundred human beings on the wreck to endure a sixth night of horrors. The sufferings of many were more than human endurance could sustain, and next morning, when the men-of-war's boats returned, half of the hapless beings were found dead. We, meantime, when our services could be of no further avail, found ourselves, being in an enemy's country, marched off as prisoners; but I am bound to say that we were treated with the greatest kindness by the French. The spot where the wreck occurred was, we found, the Bay of Audierne, and the town near it that of Plouzenec. Here we met part of the officers and crew of the British thirty-six-gun frigate, _Amazon_, which had been wrecked with us. Her whole ship's company (six men only excepted, who had stolen the cutter and were drowned) had, by means of rafts, landed in safety by nine a.m. of the morning the frigate went on shore. This might have been partly owing to the position of the ship, but more particularly to the admirable discipline maintained on board. We rejoiced to find that the other frigate, which was the _Indefatigable_, of forty-four guns, Captain Sir Edward Pellew, had escaped the danger which threatened her. Fenwick and I were sighing over the prospect of our expected captivity, and the destruction of all our hopes of promotion, when the captain of the French ship, who had been among the last to leave the wreck, sent for us, and, complimenting us on our behaviour, assured us that as we had been fellow-sufferers with him and his people, we and our men might rely on being liberated without delay. To our great joy we and our companions were shortly afterwards placed on board a cartel and sent to England without ransom or exchange, an act of generosity on the part of the French worthy of note.

STORY SIX, CHAPTER 1.

OUR FIRST PRIZE--A YARN.

Away on her course, before a strong north-easterly breeze, flew her Majesty's brig _Gadfly_. Every stitch of canvas she could carry was set, each sail was well trimmed, each brace hauled taut, and it might have been supposed that we were eager to reach some port where friends and pleasure awaited us. But it was far otherwise. We were quitting England and our home, that spot which contains all a seaman holds most dear, and were bound for a land of pestilence and death, the little delectable coast of Africa, to be employed for the next three years in chasing, capturing, or destroying, to the best of our power and ability, all vessels engaged in the traffic of human flesh. We touched at the Azores, and reached Sierra Leone, the chief port on that station, without meeting with any adventure worth relating. We remained there a week to wood and water, to perform which operations we shipped a dozen stout Kroomen. These people come from a province south of Sierra Leone, and are employed on board all vessels on that coast to perform such occupations as would too much expose Europeans to the heat of the sun. They are an energetic, brave, lively set of fellows, and very trustworthy; indeed, I do not know how we should have got on without them. They work very hard, and when they have saved money enough to buy themselves one or more wives, according to their tastes, they return to their own country to live in ease and dignity. As they generally assume either the names of the officers with whom they have served, or of some reigning prince or hero of antiquity, it is extraordinary what a number of retired commanders and lieutenants, not to speak of higher dignitaries, are to be found in Krooland. Sierra Leone has been so often described that I will not attempt to draw a picture of its romantic though deceitful beauties. Its blue sky and calm waters, its verdant groves and majestic mountains, its graceful villas and flowering shrubs, put one in mind of a lovely woman who employs her charms to beguile and destroy those who confide in her.

On turning to my log, I find that on the --, at dawn, we unmoored ship, and under all plain sail ran out of the river of Sierra Leone. As soon as we were clear of the land we shaped a course for the mouth of the Sherbro River, a locality notorious for its numerous slave depots. On our way thither we chased several sail, but some of them got off altogether, and others proved to be either British cruisers, foreign men-of-war, or honest traders; so that not a capture of any sort or kind did we make. It was for no want of vigilance, however, on our part; early and late, at noon and at night, I was at the masthead on the look-out for a sail. I knew that if I did not set a good example of watchfulness, others would be careless; for I held the responsible post, with all the honour and glory attached to it, of first lieutenant of the _Gadfly_.

"Mr Rawson," said the captain one day to me, in a good-natured tone, as I was walking the quarter-deck with him, "you will wear yourself out by your never-ceasing anxiety in looking out for slavers. There may be some, but my opinion is that they are a great deal too sharp-sighted to let us catch them in the brig. We may chance to get alongside one now and then in the boats and up the rivers, but out here it's in vain to look for them."

He was new to the coast, and the climate had already impaired his usual energy.

"Never fear, sir," I answered; "we may have a chance as well as others; and at all events it shall not be said that we did not get hold of any slavers for want of looking for them."

The next day we made the land about the mouth of the Sherbro River, and had to beat up against as oppressive a wind as I ever recollect experiencing. One is apt to fancy that the sky and water in that climate must always be blue. Now, and on many other occasions, instead of there being any cerulean tints in any direction, the sky was of a dirty copper tinge, or rather such as is seen spread out like a canopy over London on a calm damp day in November; while the sea, which rolled along in vast and sluggish undulations, looked as if it was formed of sheets of lead of the same hue. Looking astern, one almost expected to see the wake we ploughed up remaining indelible as on a hard substance. Over the land hung a mist of the same brownish-yellow hue, hiding everything but the faint outline of the coast.

"This is what I call a right-down regular Harmattan," said the master, who, like me, had been before in that delectable clime. The rest of the officers were new to it. "It will put the purser's whiskers in curl if he gives them a turn round with a marline-spike. Don't you smell the earthy flavour of the sands of Africa?"

"In truth I think I do," said Jenkins, the second lieutenant, one of a group who were collected on the weather side of the quarter-deck. "I can distinguish the lions' and boa-constrictors' breath in it, too, if I'm not mistaken. Not much of Araby's spicy gales here, at all events."

"Blue skies, and verdant groves, and spicy gales sound very pretty in poetry, but very little of them do we get in reality," said the master. "And when there is a blue sky there's such a dreadfully hot sun peeps out of it, that one feels as if all the marrow in one's bones was being dried up. But this won't last long. We shall have a change soon."

"Glad you think so," observed Jenkins; "I'm tired of this already."

"I didn't say the change would be for the better," answered the master. "We may have a black squall come roaring up from off the land, and take our topsails out of the bolt-ropes, or our topmasts over the side, before we know where we are, if you don't keep a bright look-out for it; and we shall have the rainy season beginning in earnest directly, and then look out for wet jackets."

"A pleasant prospect you give us, Smith," said I. "I wish I could draw a better, but my experience won't let me differ from you."

The fog and the heat continued, and the wind, which put one in mind of the blast of a furnace, was equally steady, so, that we slowly beat up till we got close in-shore. It was dark when we made our approach to the mouth of the Sherbro, and when we were off it we furled everything, and let the vessel go where she might, in the hopes that should there be a slaver inside ready to sail she might take the opportunity of running out while the land-wind lasted, and, not seeing us, might fall into our clutches. Every light was dowsed on board, and the bells were even not allowed to be struck. There we lay, like a log on the water, or, as Jenkins said, like a boa-constrictor ready to spring on its prey. Besides the regular look-outs, we had plenty of volunteer eyes peering into the darkness, in hopes of distinguishing an unsuspecting slaver. We of course kept the lead at the bottom, to mark the direction we were driving; but we did not move much, as the send of the sea on shore was counteracted by the wind blowing off it. Everybody made sure of having a prize before morning. Jenkins said he was certain of having one, and the master was very sanguine. The first watch passed away, and nothing appeared, but neither of them would go below.

"I think we must have driven too much to the southward," said Jenkins to the master, growing impatient. "The written orders for the night are to hold our position. Don't you think we had better make sail back again?"

"What! and show our whereabouts to the slaver, if there is one?" answered the master. "Besides, we haven't driven the sixteenth of a mile, except off-shore; and there isn't much odds about that. Hark! did not you hear some cries coming from in-shore of us?"

We listened, but if sounds there were they were not repeated; and as Jenkins had the middle watch, I turned in, desiring to be called if anything occurred. I was on deck again just as the light of day was struggling into existence through the heavy canopy which hung over us; and as the sun, which must have been rising in the heavens, got higher, so the mass of vapour over the land increased in density and depth. At first it hung just above the mangrove bushes, and we could see the tops of a few lofty palm-trees on shore, and some distant mountains popping their heads above it; but by degrees they and the whole scene before us were immersed in it.

The people's breakfast was just over when the captain came on deck.

"No success, Mr Rawson, last night," said he. "We'll try my plan now. I'm convinced that there must be slavers up that river; so we'll send the cutter and pinnace up to look after them. Desire Mr Jenkins to be prepared to take the command of them, and let Mr Johnston go also."

"Ay, ay, sir," I answered. "Shall I get the boats ready, sir?"

"Yes, you may, at once," was the answer.

And the boats' crews were soon busily engaged in making the necessary arrangements for their departure. With three cheers from the ship, away they pulled towards the mouth of the Sherbro. We watched them anxiously; for although the wind was off-shore, the swell which rolled in threw up a heavy surf on the bar, which at times makes the entrance to that river very dangerous. There was, however, every probability of Jenkins finding a smooth place to get across, and if not, he was ordered to return.

The crews gave way with a will, and the boats flew across the dark, slow, heaving undulations, now on the summit of one of the leaden rises, and now lost to view from the deck. At last they reached the irregular line of white foam, which danced up glittering and distinct against the dark mass of land and fog beyond. Into it they seemed to plunge, and we saw no more of them, for the wall of breakers and the height of the swell entirely shut out all view beyond. With hearty wishes for the safety of our shipmates, we hoisted the topsails and ran off the land.

When we had run some eight or ten miles by the log, it came on a dead calm, and there we lay, rolling and tumbling about, as the master said, like a crab in a saucepan, without being able to help ourselves. At length it cleared up a little in the north-west, and a line of whitish sky was seen under the copper. The line increased in size and blueness, till our topsails were filled with a fine strong breeze from that quarter. The brig was then kept away, in order to run down to the southernmost extremity of our station.

I had just gone aloft to have a look round, when my eye fell on a sail broad on our starboard bow, which, from the size of her royals, just appearing above the horizon, I judged to be a large square-rigged vessel. I descended to the cabin to inform the captain, and to ask leave to make sail in chase.

"What, another of your phantom slavers, Rawson?" he answered, laughing. "Make sail, by all means; but I'm afraid we shall not be much the wiser."

Hauling up a little, I soon had every stitch of canvas on the brig which she could carry, with starboard fore-topmast studding-sails. We drew rapidly on the chase, and in half-an-hour could see nearly down to her topsails. The breeze freshened, and we went through the water in earnest.

"A thumping brig; there's no doubt about it," said the master. "Observe the rakish cut of her sails; one can almost smell the niggers on board her."

"She's carrying on, too, as it she was in a hurry to get away from us," I remarked.

"So she is," said the captain, coming on deck. "But it strikes me that those slave-dealers generally send faster craft to sea than she appears to be. It's only some of your wise governments who don't care about the slavers being caught who send out slow-coaches, which are fit for nothing but carrying timber."

"Then why should she be in such a hurry?" I observed.

"A sail right ahead!" sang out the man at the mast-head.

"Because she's in chase of something else," remarked the captain, laughing. "Hand me the glass. I thought so. What do you make out of that ensign which has just blown out at her peak?"

I took a look through the telescope.

"A Yankee brig, sir," I exclaimed, in a tone of vexation. "I should not wonder but what she is an American man-of-war, after all."

Well, though it must be owned that the Yankees can build fine and fast ships when they wish to do so, and want them to go along, I must say that the chase sailed as badly as any ship-of-war I ever met. We came up with her hand-over-hand, and we were soon sufficiently near to exchange signals, when we made out that she was the United States brig-of-war the _Grampus_, in chase of a suspicious-looking craft to the southward.

Exchanging a few courteous expressions with the American captain, who stood on the weather side of the poop eyeing us with a look of envy, we passed rapidly by him.

"If you make yon stranger a prize, I think we ought to go shares," he said, laughing. "We sighted her first."

"You shall have the whole of her if you overhaul her first," answered our captain.

"Then I calculate we may as well give in, for your legs are a tarnation deal longer than ours, it seems."

The sun, which now shone forth for a brief space, glittered on the bright copper of the brig as she lifted to the send of the sea, and the foam flew over her bows and washed fore and aft along her dingy sides as she tore through the water; but it would not do, the little _Gadfly_ laughed her to scorn, and, as we headed her, seemed impudently to kick up her heels at her in contempt at her slow ways. We were not long in coming up with the chase, nor in making out by the cut of her canvas, her short yards, and heavy-looking hull, that she was no slaver. As soon as we fired a gun, and hoisted our ensign and pennant, she hove-to, and on sending a boat on board we found that she was the _Mary Jane_, of Bristol, a steady-going old African trader. She had been carrying sail, both because she was on her right course, and because she could not tell but what the _Grampus_ might be a slaver or pirate, anxious to overhaul her.

The master, who was a very civil old fellow, came on board, and gave us some valuable suggestions. He had witnessed some of the horrors of the middle passage, and was a strong advocate for the abolition of the slave-trade.

"Africa will never improve while it exists, and it will exist as long as people find it profitable, and the governments of the world either encourage it or only take half measures to abolish it. I am sorry to own, too, that people nearer home gain too much by it to withstand the temptation of assisting those engaged in it, and I know for certain that many English merchants have account-currents with slave-dealers, and send their vessels out here full of goods expressly for them."

I afterwards found that what he said was perfectly true. After taking some luncheon with us, he tumbled into his boat and stood on his course, while we hauled our wind to return to the northward.

"We have not made our first prize yet, Rawson," said the captain, as I took dinner with him in his cabin that day.

"No, sir; but I hope we soon shall," I replied. "Better luck next time!"

As chance would have it, just after sunset we again fell in with the _Grampus_, and passed close to her.

"You didn't find many woolly heads on board that 'ere craft, I calculate?" said a voice from the main rigging, followed by a loud laugh from several persons.

"No," I answered, indignantly, thinking of the conversation with the master of the _Mary Jane_. "But there's a time coming when your people will bitterly regret that woolly heads or slavery exists in your country, and will wish that you long ago had done your best to abolish it. Good night, gentlemen!"

There was no answer, and we rapidly flew by each other.

For two or three days we cruised about as unsuccessful as before, the weather continuing fine; but the sky giving indubitable signs of the approach of the stormy and rainy season, we beat back along shore to pick up our boats. The wind had been veering about for some time, and at length seemed to have made up its mind to enjoy a stiffish blow out of the south-west. This, of course, would have kicked up a considerable surf on the bar, and as Jenkins had orders, as soon as he saw signs of such being the case, to come out and look out for us, we were in hourly expectation of falling in with the boats. We had, however, seen nothing of them, though we kept a very sharp look-out, and had almost got up to the mouth of the river, when, in the afternoon watch, I bethought me that by way of a change I would go aloft, and try if a fresh pair of eyes would see farther than those of the man stationed there. I had been up about five minutes, when my eye fell on the white canvas of a largish vessel standing along shore under easy sail. She had a most suspicious look; indeed, I felt convinced that she, at all events, was a slaver. I was on deck in an instant, and, hurrying into the captain's cabin with a look of triumph, though I tried to be perfectly calm and unconcerned, I uttered the words, "A sail on the lee beam!"

"Very well, Mr Rawson. What does she look like?" said the captain.

"She's a large topsail schooner, sir, and she's without doubt a slaver," I answered quite calmly, as a matter of course.

"What, another of your slavers?" he answered. "I'm afraid they'll all turn out Flying Dutchmen."

"Not this time, sir, I'm certain," I replied. "Shall we make sail in chase?"

"Oh, certainly--certainly!" he replied. "I'll be on deck immediately myself."

I flew on deck, and, without waiting for him, sang out, in a cheery voice, to the boatswain, "Turn the hands up! Make sail!" The pipe sounded along the decks with a shriller sound than usual, I thought, and the news that a suspicious sail was in sight having already travelled below, the men were all ready, and flew aloft before the last sound of the order was given. The gear of the courses was overhauled whilst the topgallant-sails and royals were being loosed, and in a few seconds all plain sail was made on the brig. The stranger, who had not apparently before seen us, was not long in following our example. He set his foresail, topgallant-sail, and royal, gaff-topsail and flying-jib, in addition to the canvas he had been before carrying, and, putting down his helm, stood off-shore on a bowline, with the intention of crossing our bows. The reason of his doing this was, that to the northward a long and dangerous reef ran off from the shore, so that he had no other means of escape. We had him, indeed, partly embayed, and yet, if he was able to carry on, it was clear that he might still manage to get out ahead of us. The _Gadfly_ sailed well, and carried her canvas admirably, but so did the stranger; and, by the way every sail on board her was set, it was evident he was in earnest in doing his best to weather on us.

"What do you think of that fellow now, sir?" I said, as the captain came on deck. "There's no mistaking what she is."

"Why, Rawson, I think you are right this time, at all events," was the answer. "Stand by the royals, though. We must not carry the masts over the side; and she will go along as fast without them."