“‘Good God!’ I exclaimed, jumping ashore in an agony of mind indescribable. ‘Has no one pursued them? Which way did they go? Who helped this villain to commit such an outrage?’
“‘We can’t say,’ said several bystanders; ‘the Colonel slept in one of the huts, with his daughters, their female attendants, and the negro Pompey. In the morning the colonel was found gagged and bound, lying on the floor of the hut, and not a soul else was to be seen. All the colonel could say was, that in his sleep he was seized, a blanket forcibly held over his face and head to stifle his shouts; he was then gagged and bound, and the blanket left round his head; had he not received assistance he would have been shortly suffocated; he is very ill!’
“‘Who has gone after the ruffians?’ demanded Captain Stanhope, boiling with rage.
“‘No one as yet,’ returned several persons, together. ‘Most of the men have gone across the country to —— to see for provisions; all here are mostly women and children; we waited till you came up with the men.’
“I requested to be shown where the colonel was, whilst Captain Stanhope picked out half-a-dozen active men, and three or four active guides. The captain could not go himself, for he was lame, but his two sons promised to accompany me in the steamer. It was well known that they must have been carried off in Sinclair’s boat, for it was gone. In a most agitated state of mind, I ran to the hut where the colonel was, and entering, found him in a high fever and quite delirious. The only medical man we had was with him; nor could we learn anything from his ravings. It was no use waiting, so in less than two hours we were ready to start, well armed, for pursuit. Captain Stanhope’s two sons, Lieutenant Dobbs, and four of his men, and myself, with four good negro guides, formed the party in pursuit; each carried six rounds of ball cartridge, and provisions for four days. The provision was very simple, consisting of merely biscuit, cheese, and gourds full of rum. We could shoot plenty of game for food if required. It was surmised by Captain Stanhope that Sinclair would go no farther up the river than —— ——, he might then carry their boat over a track of land to a lake about two miles from the river’s brink. This lake was above twenty miles long, and from it ran a river communicating with the sea. At the mouth of this river was a negro village, and sometimes vessels touched at this place. It had been suspected latterly that Sinclair had associates on the coast, who had a vessel somewhere; at all events, we could easily see if the boat had been carried over land or abandoned, for the tide went no higher up the river, and the current without the tide was too fierce to stem.
“Accordingly, we started in our long light canoe, easy of carriage, and proceeded up the river, through a wild and entangled country, clothed with wood and jungle to the very water’s edge, and full of wild beasts. It was very evident no landing could be effected on either shore, except at great risks, and quite impossible to force females through. At length we came to the end of the tide, and to the spot indicated. Our negroes at once pointed to the cleared space, and on grounding our canoe, we at once saw the tracks of many feet, also the marks of hauling a boat up the sloping bank. It was too late to cross to the lake that day, so the canoe was hauled up, a tent rapidly constructed of branches of trees and a quantity of matting, brought for that special purpose.
“With the earliest dawn we commenced our way to the lake, dragging our canoe over a narrow slip of swampy country. The track of the other boat and the marks of many feet could also be seen, and amongst them those of the feet of the two black girls, but no trace of the feet of the two Misses Packenham, so we conjectured they had been carried in the boat. It was a dead level, and no doubt at times was overflowed by either the waters of the lake or the river. About noon we reached the borders of as dismal and gloomy a lake as could be imagined, the shores being covered with low entangled masses of vegetation. No trees or high land on either side, the water black, and a hot breeze swept over its surface; there were no islands, and its length appeared about twenty miles, by three and sometime five miles in breadth. From where we were no river could be seen running into it, and yet it must be fed by either streams or springs, for the negroes said where it ran into the sea the stream was broad and rapid, but before reaching the sea it dwindled away into the several small unnavigable streams, running through dangerous sands, bordering a safe kind of creek where small vessels often anchored, and where slaves were often shipped. They also said that the people were very wild and bad, and would seize and sell any one they could get for slaves.
“As we launched our canoe, the wind began to blow with great violence from the sea; we were just at the end of the rainy season. The last week in October the rains were over, but sudden gales and squalls were frequent. By keeping close in with the western shore we were enabled to traverse the lake, but the twenty miles took us till dark, so we were forced to pull our canoe upon a bank, and make the best shelter we could for the night, amidst a frightful storm of rain, thunder, and lightning. The next morning it cleared, but blew tremendously in from the sea. We resolved to leave our boat, and make for the negro village on foot across a sandy waste. I was standing on the summit of a small hillock of sand, gazing in the direction of the negro village, when I saw a man coming across one of the streams that ran through the sands towards me. I soon discovered he was a negro with a bandage round his head; he had no clothing except his waist-cloth: to my intense joy, as he came nearer I recognised Pompey, Colonel Packenham’s faithful negro. He recognised me before I knew him, and the poor fellow’s joy was great. His head and hair were matted with blood. Some of our party soon joined us. Pompey, in his own way, gave the account of their seizure. He said he was sleeping, covered with a piece of matting, outside his master’s hut, and the first thing that woke him was a blow on the head with a piece of wood, but as he strove to get up, a negro—he saw him plain enough—struck him senseless with a hatchet: in fact the poor fellow had a frightful gash in his head. When he recovered he found himself in a large boat, full of negroes and three white men, with the Misses Packenham crying bitterly in each other’s arms, and their two black servants. When he attempted to move, the negroes rowing the boat kicked and beat him, so he lay still. When they arrived at the halting place, they stripped him, gave him a cloth and an old piece of canvas to tie over the bleeding cut in his head, and then dragged the boat over the land with the two young girls in her; all the rest had to walk. Pompey was made to assist in dragging the boat; then they passed down the lake, and got, by pulling the boat through the shallows, into the creek before the negro town. There was a fine schooner at anchor before the village, and on board this vessel they carried the distracted girls, and thrust Pompey into the hold, which was fitted up for two hundred slaves, of which there were one hundred and thirty on board. It was a Spanish vessel, and carried twelve hands; sixty or seventy slaves remained to ship, but from the heavy gale and neglecting proper precautions, she went ashore from the force of the wind, though there was no sea; in the confusion Pompey made his escape, with several other slaves; but they separated before Pompey fell in with us.
“We all now assembled and consulted as to how we should proceed. We were ten well-armed men; the storm had wonderfully befriended us, for it was very certain had the schooner remained afloat, it would by this time have been at sea, and the unfortunate girls lost. It was horrible to think what might be their fate. As I said, we were ten in all, well-armed and determined men. We thought it probable that we should have to contend with the crew of the schooner, and John Sinclair and his associates; but if we could get at the place where the slaves were confined—for when the schooner stranded they were taken out of her and confined in the great sheds erected for the purpose of holding them till ready to be embarked—by giving them freedom we should greatly embarrass our enemies. So being resolved, and ready to set out, we followed Pompey, who undertook to take us round the base of the hill, so that we should not be perceived till ready to make a rush upon the sheds. I asked Pompey where he thought the two young ladies were confined. He said he was sure they were in the cabin of the schooner. She was, though ashore, nearly upright, but they could not get her off before the next rise in the tide, and that would not be for four days.
“After an hour’s walking and wading, we got safely to the back of the hills sheltering the cove and the slave station, and then, by a rugged path, well known to Pompey—for he himself had once been a prisoner there and about to be shipped when he escaped—we came nearly in view of the station, when our ears were saluted by the reports of muskets, the shouts, cries, and fierce yells of negroes; and, rushing forward, we beheld below us a scene of indescribable contention. Some two or three hundred negroes were furiously attacking a number of white men, who tried to save themselves behind the huts, firing and killing many of the negroes. With the white men were a number of blacks fighting on their side. Lying on the beach was the schooner, and on her decks were several men, trying to bring the two eight-pounders she had on board to bear upon the liberated slaves, of whom a large party were carrying combustibles to fire the schooner, which lay high and dry.