That same evening we made the land from the mast-head just before sunset, and four hours later came to an anchor off the mouth of a river, the bar of which had too little water on it to permit of the passage of the Shark. Our visit to this spot was the result of certain information which the skipper had acquired a few days previously from the master of a palm-oil trader hailing from Liverpool, upon the strength of which he rather hoped to be able to take by surprise an especially notorious slaver which had long eluded our cruisers, but which was now stated, upon fairly reliable authority, to be somewhere on the coast, and was believed to have entered this particular river.
The canvas having been snugly furled, the boats, under the command of the first lieutenant, the master, the boatswain, and the gunner, were manned, armed, and dispatched into the river, the whole expedition being, of course, under the command of Mr Seaton, in whose boat went Peter Christy, one of the midshipmen, while young Keene, another midshipman, contrived to smuggle himself down into the master’s boat. Of course I applied for leave to go with the expedition, but, being on the sick list, was peremptorily forbidden even to dream of such a thing, for Morgan, our surgeon, declared that in my run-down condition I was utterly unfit to face the risks of exposure to the fever-laden fog which would certainly be encountered in the river. The night was not especially favourable for an expedition intended to take ships by surprise; for although the sky was somewhat cloudy, it was by no means sufficiently so to obscure very materially the light of the moon, which was then in her first quarter. But she would set shortly after midnight, and meanwhile her light would facilitate the passage of the boats across the bar, after the accomplishment of which the plan was to endeavour to discover the position of the vessel that we were after—or, failing her, any other craft that might be in the river—and then ambush the boats until the moon had gone down. We gave the boats a cheer as they pulled away, and watched them until they vanished in the shadowy obscurity inshore; after which, as we expected to see nothing more of them until daylight, the watch was piped down, and going below I turned in. The night, however, was intensely hot, and the atmosphere of the midshipmen’s berth intolerably stuffy. I therefore slept but poorly, and was up and down, at intervals of about an hour, all through the night, listening for the sound of firing, and hoping that perchance the reflection of gun-flashes on the clouds might indicate that the boats had found their quarry. Once or twice, about three o’clock in the morning, some of us who, like myself, were on the qui vive, thought we caught the muffled sound of distant firing coming off to us on the damp night breeze, but the everlasting thunder of the surf on the sand a mile away was so loud that we might easily have been deceived. That something important, however, was happening ashore was evident, for about this time we saw the reflection of a brilliant glare in the sky which lasted nearly an hour, and then gradually died down.
At seven o’clock the next morning all our doubts were set at rest by the appearance of two craft—a slashing brig and a very smart-looking little schooner—coming out over the bar with the Shark’s boats in tow; and ten minutes later they rounded-to and anchored close to us. We now had an opportunity to take a good look at our prizes, and it needed no second glance to assure us that both were perfectly superb examples of the shipbuilder’s art. Long, low, and extraordinarily beamy, they carried spars big enough for craft of twice their tonnage, upon which they spread an area of canvas that made some of us stare in amazement, and which, combined with their exquisitely perfect lines, gave them a speed that enabled them to defy pursuit. The Doña Inez, as the brig was named, was a craft of three hundred and eighty-six tons register, and drew only ten feet of water aft; while the Francesca—the schooner,—on a tonnage of one hundred and twenty, drew only six feet. That they had been built for the express purpose of slave traffic was apparent at the first glance; and they were, moreover, completely fitted for that traffic, for they had slave-decks, and had manacles, meal, and water on board, but no slaves.
The report of Mr Seaton, the first lieutenant, who presently came aboard, was eminently satisfactory. The expedition had succeeded in locating the two ships on the previous night before the setting of the moon, and had then lain in ambush behind a point only some two cables lengths from their prey until about two o’clock the next morning, when, with muffled oars, they had pulled alongside the two craft simultaneously, boarded them without resistance, surprised and overpowered the anchor-watch, and secured the crews under hatches. This having been done, and prize crews having been placed in charge of both vessels, the remainder of the party, led by Mr Seaton, had landed and captured an extensive slave factory, the occupants of which were evidently preparing for the reception of a large coffle of slaves, and set fire to it, burning the whole place to the ground. And all this had been accomplished at the cost of only two men slightly-wounded. The expedition had thus been completely successful, for the Doña Inez was the craft the capture of which had been its especial object, while we had secured in addition a second prize and had destroyed a factory.
Immediately after breakfast the captain proceeded to make his arrangements with regard to the prizes. First of all, the crew of the Francesca, were transferred to the Doña Inez, and, with the crew of the latter vessel, safely confined in her hold; then the prize crews were strengthened; and, finally, the brig was placed under the command of Mr Fawcett. Then the captain sent for me.
“Mr Grenvile,” said he, “I am going to prove to you, by placing you in command of the Francesca, that the loss of the Dolores has in no wise shaken my confidence in you. I remember, of course, that you are on the sick list; but I have consulted the surgeon relative to my proposed arrangement, and he assures me that a few days at sea will be far better for your health than remaining on the coast aboard the Shark. Your duties will be easy, for I intend to send with you Jones and Simpson, the boatswain’s and carpenter’s mates, who were with you in the Dolores, and a rather stronger crew than you had in that craft. You may also have Mr Keene to keep you company. You will sail in company with the brig, which will be under the command of Mr Fawcett, and since I learn that both craft, contrary to the ordinary usage of slavers, are heavily armed, you are not likely to suffer molestation this time on your voyage to Sierra Leone.”
“Thank you, sir!” said I. “I am very much obliged to you for your continued confidence in me, which you shall find has not been misplaced; and, as to my health, I really think I shall get well quicker at sea than I should by remaining here on the coast. May I have San Domingo again as cabin steward, sir?”
“Why, yes, certainly, if you like, Mr Grenvile,” answered the captain good-naturedly. “The fellow is rather a good man, I believe, and he appears to have taken a particularly strong fancy to you. By the way, there is one thing that I omitted to mention, Mr Grenvile, and that is that you will have to be your own navigator should you and the brig by any chance part company, for Mr Freeman will accompany Mr Fawcett in the brig. But the master tells me that you are a very reliable navigator; you therefore ought not to have any difficulty upon that score. And now you had better run away and turn yourself over to your three-decker.”
I dived down into the midshipmen’s berth, and found my shipmate, Keene, there also, although really he ought to have been on deck.
“Pass the word for San Domingo,” said I to the sentry on duty outside. And as the man duly passed the word, I turned to Keene and said: