The most singular battle between two-legged brutes that I ever beheld, was fought one day between two stout negroes in the neighborhood of my boarding house in Savannah. They had cherished a grudge against each other for some time, and accidentally meeting, a war of words ensued, which attracted a crowd of spectators, who kindly used all possible efforts to induce them to break the peace, in which charitable enterprise they finally succeeded.
Much to my surprise, and greatly to the amusement of the bystanders, the darkies made no use of their fists, neither did they grasp each other by the waist, or resort to the worse than savage practice of gouging. They retreated from the spot where they had been standing, until the space between them would measure some ten or twelve paces, a good duelling distance, and then instead of throwing tomahawks or javelins at each other's heads, or discharging bullets of lead from the mouths of pistols or blunderbusses, they bowed down their heads, as if overcome with humility, and rushed at each other with inconceivable fury.
Like knights of ancient days, they met half way in the lists; but instead of shivering their spears right manfully, their heads came in contact, like a collision between two locomotives, making a noise like a clap of thunder. As they rose from the ground from which they were both thrown by the violence of the shock, fire seemed actually to flash from their eyes, and they shook their heads from shoulder to shoulder for several seconds, apparently to know if all was right within.
The result being satisfactory, they retreated a short distance, not so far as at first, and again tried the terrible experiment of seeing which head was the hardest. After giving several of these practical illustrations of the noble art of butting, in a fashion that would have cracked, crushed and demolished the thickest craniums belonging to the Caucasian family, but which seemed to produce little effect on these hard-headed sons of sires born on the banks of the Niger, one of the belligerent parties watched an opportunity when his opponent was off his guard, dexterously evaded the favor intended for him, and drove his own head with tremendous force against the bosom of his antagonist.
This of course finished the engagement, for the poor fellow was thrown backwards with violence to the ground, where he remained for some time senseless, while the grinning victor received the congratulations of his friends.
Chapter XXXV. VOYAGE TO GOTTENBURG
I passed nearly three weeks in Savannah at Jim Hubbard's boarding house, mingling freely with the different characters who frequented that establishment, making my observations on men and things; and if at times I felt humiliated and uncomfortable, I solaced myself by the reflection that my sojourn in that place would be brief, and in the mean time would open to my inspection a new chapter in the book of life; and being constitutionally of a hopeful disposition, and seldom troubled with despondency, instead of suffering my thoughts to dwell on present perplexities, I looked forward to more prosperous scenes and happier times.
At length I found an opportunity to quit Savannah, of which I shall ever retain a vivid recollection, by shipping before the mast in a good wholesome-looking brig, known as the Joseph, of Boston, and bound to Gottenburg, with a cargo of tobacco.
The name of the brig was not a very attractive one, but I had learned long before that the names of merchant vessels, being bestowed according to the taste, fancy, or whim of the owner, should never be regarded as indicative of character, any more than the names of individuals. The first vessel I sailed in, although named after the most beautiful and swift fish that swims the ocean, the dolphin, was one of the ugliest and dullest sailing crafts that ever floated on salt water.