“Go, Davy,” said my grandfather, “go, and get some food; and Robert, tell the cook to have a warm bath ready, and the housemaid must run a pan of coals over the little bed in the blue room, and put some extra blankets on. You can sleep without a night-cap, I dare say, Davy; and, Robert, tell the butler to give you a bottle of Madeira; simmer half of it over the fire, and when heated beat up an egg in it,—it will be better than cold sangaree, Davy; and d’ye hear, Robert, grate a little nutmeg on the top, and carry it to the pale face as soon as he gets into bed. There, go along, Davy, go along!” and the gratified negro left the room with unfeigned ejaculations of “Gor Amighty for eber bless kind massa!”
As soon as the door was closed, and I was once more seated on my grandfather’s knee, he commenced his usual practice of holding converse with himself. “What can have brought him here?” said he; “I gave him his freedom and a piece of land to cultivate. There was a pretty hut upon it, too, with a double row of cocoa-nut trees in front, and a garden of plantains behind, and a nice plot of guinea grass for a cow, and another of buckwheat:—what has become of it all, I wonder? Bless me, how time flies! It seems but the other day that I saved the fellow from a couple of bullets, and he repaid the debt by rescuing my Betsy—ah, poor dear! She was your mother, William, and he snatched her from a dreadful and terrific fate. How these things crowd upon my mind! The earthquake shook every building to its foundation, the ground yawned in horrible deformity, and your poor mother—we can see her grave-stone from the drawing-room window, you know, for she died since we have been here, and left her old father’s heart a dreary blank. Yet not so, either, my child,” pressing me to his breast and laying his hoary head on mine, “not so, either; for she bequeathed you to my guardian care, and you are now the solace of my gray hairs.”
“But the earthquake, grandpapa,” said I, “the earthquake.”
“And your poor father,” continued he, absorbed in his subject, “as brave a lad as ever broke a king’s biscuit, to become a prey to the sharks, with the ocean for his grave!—but there, don’t cry, my boy, don’t cry; you shall never be wrecked upon a lee shore whilst I can keep you afloat; and when this old hull is stowed away in the ground tier, I shall leave you to the protection of Him, who gives the fleecy coat to the tender lamb and feeds the young ravens when they cry. But it puzzles me a little to think how this black rogue got to England, and what he can have come for. He was a faithful servant, that Davy, and I picked him up in a strange way too,—a very strange way,—for in another half hour he would have been food for the fishes. It was in ninety-eight I commanded the Zephyr sloop of war. We were cruising off the river Plate, when a schooner hove in sight and showed American colours; so I bore up to speak to her, and just as we got within hail we heard the report of firearms, and saw a negro fall from the schooner’s side into the water. At first I thought it was some poor wretch relieved from his earthly misery whom they were burying. As he sank in the ocean, the billow closed over his dark form, but the next instant he rose struggling on the surface of the wave, and the white foam around him assumed a red and gory tinge. Again he sank, and again the sea rolled smoothly on; but that poor murdered wretch arose no more. We were now close to the schooner, and I commanded her crew to heave-to for a boat, which after some hesitation they obeyed. Curiosity, and perhaps a little compassion, induced me to visit the schooner; but oh, what a scene of horror presented itself! I have witnessed in my youth enough to make my heart callous, if any thing could, but this exceeded all I had ever seen. The schooner had a cargo of slaves from the coast of Africa; but not men,—not women—no, no; there were ninety-seven little children, from four to twelve years of age, in the most horrid and emaciated condition. The space in which they were kept was so confined that they could scarcely sit upright; and having nothing but rough planks to lie on, the rolling of the vessel had chafed their joints into wounds; they looked as if perishing with hunger. You shudder, boy, and well you may. The helpless creatures were ranged upon the deck, and close by the gangway lay four young men, wounded and in fetters, but who did not seem otherwise much the worse for the voyage. Another was placed astride the gunwale, with his arms pinioned behind him. Seated on the companion abaft, appeared a stout tall man in a white shirt deeply stained with blood; his head was bandaged with new cotton, through which the blood was still oozing; his left arm was bound up, and he seemed to have suffered in some desperate conflict. This was the captain; and the crew, more or less hurt, showing visible marks of a recent fight, stood near, and every one displayed strong indications of intemperance. On the hencoop, by the captain’s side, lay a long-barrelled pistol; the fellow to it was grasped in his right hand, and with the rolling eye of intoxication he first glanced at the instrument of death, and then at the poor wretch who sat with an unmoved countenance on the gunwale. ‘You are just come in time, sir,’ said the captain, ‘to witness an act of justice; for I guess, though you have got the British bunting[14] at the peak, you come from the land of the stripes and stars.[15] But you shall see, sir, how cleverly I’ll put a brace of balls through that mutinous rascal.’ He raised the pistol to a level with his eye; his fore-finger was on the trigger, when I hastily struck it up with my hand, and the bullets whistled over the negro’s head without doing him any injury. But he had experienced only cruelty from white men; he had expected death, and could not suppose that one of the fair-skinned race would rescue him from the fate of his companion. As soon as he heard the report of the pistol, he fell forward on his face; but my boat’s crew ran, and saved him from going overboard. ‘What is the meaning of all this?’ said I, ‘thou disgrace to manhood. I am a British officer, and to me you shall be accountable for your demoniac conduct. What has that poor creature done? and these too on the deck? Release them my men,’ and my boat’s crew had soon broken off their fetters.
“The negro, whom I had saved from the murderous intention of the captain, could not exactly comprehend the scene; but when he found that he was safe and knew me for his deliverer, he clung round my knees—ay, just as the fellow did to-night, for it was no other than Davy himself. But I can’t think what brings him here to England away from the pretty hut, and the cocoa-nut trees, and the guinea grass.”
“But what became of the little black children, grandpapa?” inquired I, “and the other four men, and the wicked captain? and where did you take Davy to? and—”
“Stop, stop, child!” said my grandfather; “don’t overhaul your questions so fast, and I’ll tell you, for the sight of the dog is a memorandum one cannot meet with every day. The captain had freighted his schooner at Loando, in the Congo country, with one hundred and thirty male and female children, and six fine young men. Thirty-three of the children had died on the passage, and been thrown overboard. The crew of the schooner fearing nothing from the poor emaciated innocents and trusting to the half-starved weakness of the young men, indulged in drinking to excess. But to the surprise of the captain, these latter began to recover their sleek and healthy appearance, and he was calculating upon getting a handsome price for them in the market; when the very night before I fell in with the schooner, the young men rose upon the crew, they attacked the captain in his bed, and inflicted several severe wounds on his body and head. But what could these poor creatures do against a superior force, who were well acquainted with the use of arms? The negroes were overpowered and put in irons; and the wretched man, whom we had seen shot before getting along-side, was the ringleader. But now, mark me, my boy; on inquiry, I discovered that the plan had been a long time in agitation, and these injured and devoted children had daily set apart a portion of their own very scanty food, to strengthen the men for the enterprise. Most of them knew of the attempt, yet none betrayed the secret. I bought Davy of the captain, and went up the Plate as far as I could, (for the schooner was bound to Monte Video,) and then was compelled to quit her, for she was under the flag of a neutral power: besides our own country was then engaged in the same traffic.”
“And what became of the children, grandpapa?”
“All sold into slavery, my dear.”
“And Davy, grandpapa?”