There was not a sign of life anywhere, and the only sound that broke the glaring stillness was the deep-toned roar of the surf outside.
Suddenly there was a sharp “ping,” and a crack upon the boat’s gunwale, followed by the report of a rifle.
“Way enough,” said Hicks, calmly. And we rested on our oars, with our chins on our shoulders, trying to see who had welcomed us so cordially.
Yankee Dan stood up and waved his hat from side to side, in token of friendship, and almost instantly a man strode out from the palisade, now but fifty fathoms distant.
“Stop that firing and come aboard,” bawled the trader.
“Give way together,” said Hicks, and we sent the boat rapidly towards the beach, and ran her nose high and dry on the sand.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
MY FIRST GLIMPSE OF SLAVERY
A heavy-built, squat Guinea, as the Portuguese here are called, greeted us as we sprang ashore. He was a villainous-looking scoundrel, and his rifle and knife did little to improve his formidable appearance. His white teeth showed in an ugly smile, as he explained in broken English that we had been mistaken for the boat of a British cruiser that had been lately on the coast, and he had fired at us accordingly.
Hicks was not ready to believe his lie, and, had it not been for the trader, would undoubtedly have pistolled him where he stood, but Dan was used to the tricks of the pirates, and knew better than to show his feelings. Several rascally black men armed with rifles now came from the palisade, and we seized our rifles from the boat to be ready for any tricks. The Guinea, however, only grinned and shrugged his shoulders, and invited us to his place to consider business. His followers, dressed only in gee-strings and ammunition-belts, laid aside their arms in token of friendship, and thus reassured we filed into the enclosure.
If I had at any time doubted my distaste for the life I was leading, there could have been no chance for such a thing after entering that “factory” where slaves were made. Of all the horrible places on earth, save perhaps the hold of the overdue slaver at the end of the middle passage, that filthy den was the most awful. In the mire made by their own dung, like a lot of hogs, the cursed sons of Ham lay or stood in the fierce sunshine, awaiting the coming of some pirates like ourselves to take them to a foreign land, and sell them into comparative comfort and luxury to work for their white masters. Ugly they were in the extreme, their black, brutish faces having nothing more human about them than those of apes, but even monkeys should be shown some consideration if they would be made to live. Women with infants were kept in a separate pen, but the older ones were thrown in with the men, without a vestige of clothing, not even a clout or gee-string. The younger girls the Guinea kept in his own house, having over fifty that he formed into a seraglio for himself and guards.