Soon after I was born I was put with many other brass rods into a dark box, and nailed in very tightly; for I heard one of the workmen say that I was to take a very long journey over sea and land. There was fortunately a hole in my box, and looking I saw that we were first put on a train, and then carried into the hold of a big ship. Soon after we were all packed carefully and tightly in the hold, the steamer began to move, and we could hear the creaking of the rigging and the rattling of the racing engines, and feel the pitching and rolling of the great steamer itself.
I felt very glad when the pitching and rolling stopped, and the cover was taken from the hold, and the beautiful sunshine came streaming in, making the rats scurry off with their young to dark corners and cracks.
Just then we heard the bang of a cannon and the shrill scream of a whistle; and, wondering what was going to happen next, we heard the babble of many voices, and the patter of naked feet along the deck; and a voice shouted; “There, our gang is complete. We don’t want any more, and the sooner you others get over the side into your canoes, the better for your health.”
I heard an old palm-oil barrel who had taken this journey many times remark to a new one: “We are now off the Kroo Coast, West Africa, and have taken on Kroo boys[[3]] to work the cargo and keep the decks clean. That bang of the cannon was to call them, and the whistle was to hurry them.”
I do not know how many Kroo boys we engaged; but they were very noisy, and gave us many a sleepless night. At four o’clock in the morning, while we were at sea, they began to rub the decks with stones and scrape the ironwork with knives, talking incessantly all the time; but when we were in port it was worse, for they not only worked the winches right over our heads from early morn till late at night, but they came down into the hold, turned us over and pitched us about so that if I had not had a good wooden box round me I should have been badly bent and bruised. Some of my friends were smashed to pieces, and some bales I knew received deep gashes in their sides, and others I never saw again.
It was a sad journey, full of partings, for those Kroo boys never came into our hold without tying up some of my friends, and we saw them for a moment hoisted into the air, and over the side they went, into what?--I knew later, but not then.
What curious names those Kroo boys had! Some of them still linger in my memory, such as: Peasoup, Teacup, Bottle-of-Beer, Brass-pan, Top-hat, Kettle, Arm-chair, Pen-and-ink, Kiss-me-quick, Flower-vase, Napoleon-Buonaparte, and Duke-of-Wellington.[[4]] I learned afterwards that the reason why they had these names was that their white masters, not being able to pronounce their proper country names when they first engaged them, gave them any name that happened to come into their heads at the moment, and such names stuck to them all the days of their service on the coast. It was amusing to hear these names called, or, when one was asked his name, to hear him answer: “Me, massa, me be Bottle-of-Beer.”
The Kroo boys good-humouredly retaliated by giving their masters names that picturesquely described any peculiarities they observed in them. One they called Big-nose, another Skinny-legs, another Long-legs, and a fourth Bald-head. There was more appropriateness in the names they gave their masters than the names they received from them.
About seven weeks after we started my box was tied with others, hoisted into the air, and thrown over the side of the ship into a big boat, and we were rowed ashore and landed at Banana. As we were going a Kroo boy spied me through my peephole, and tried hard to drag me out of my comfortable resting-place; but I clung tightly to the others, and thus successfully resisted his attempts to steal me. I soon found myself in a large store filled with huge piles of boxes, bales, and crates, and long rows of large bottles filled with rum and other fiery waters.
After a few days a white man came into our store, and, sorting out a large number of cases, bales and bottles, sent them away on the heads and shoulders of Kroo boys. For two days they were carrying out loads as quickly as they could, and just as I was thinking that I should not be disturbed a Kroo boy came and lifted my box in his strong arms, and, carrying me across the busy, sunlit yard, threw me with much force on the deck of a steamer, and I became unconscious.