At the proper time I sent for the black prince to assist me in shipping the slaves, and to receive the head-money which was his export duty on my cargo. The answer to my message was an illustration of the character and insolence of the ragamuffins with whom I had to deal. “The prince,” returned my messenger, “don’t like your sauciness, Don Téodore, and won’t come till you beg his pardon by a present!”
It is very true that after my visit to their republic, I began to entertain a greater degree of respect than was my wont, for black men, yet my contempt for the original, unmodified race was so great, that when the prince’s son, a boy of sixteen, delivered this reply on behalf of his father, I did not hesitate to cram it down his throat by a back-handed blow, which sent the sprig of royalty bleeding and howling home.
It may be easily imagined what was the condition of the native town when the boy got back to the “palace,” and told his tale of Spanish boxing. In less than ten minutes, another messenger arrived with an order for my departure from the country “before next day at noon;”—an order which, the envoy declared, would be enforced by the outraged townsfolk unless I willingly complied.
Now, I had been too long in Africa to tremble before a negro prince, and though I really hated the region, I determined to disobey in order to teach the upstart a lesson of civilized manners. Accordingly, I made suitable preparations for resistance, and, when my hired servants and barracooniers fled in terror at the prince’s command, I landed some whites from my schooner, to aid in protecting our slaves.
By this time, my house had been constructed of the frail bamboos and matting which are exclusively used in the buildings of the Bassa country. I had added a cane verandah or piazza to mine, and protected it from the pilfering natives, by a high palisade, that effectually excluded all intruders. Within the area of this inclosure was slung my hammock, and here I ate my meals, read, wrote, and received “Princes” as well as the mob.
At nightfall, I loaded twenty-five muskets, and placed them inside my sofa, which was a long trade-chest. I covered the deal table with a blanket, beneath whose pendent folds I concealed a keg of powder with the head out. Hard by, under a broad-brimmed sombrero, lay a pair of double-barrelled pistols. With these dispositions of my volcanic armory, I swung myself asleep in the hammock, and leaving the three whites to take turns in watching, never stirred till an hour after sunrise, when I was roused by the war-drum and bells from the village, announcing the prince’s approach.
In a few minutes my small inclosure of palisades was filled with armed and gibbering savages, while his majesty, in the red coat of a British drummer, but without any trowsers, strutted pompously into my presence. Of course, I assumed an air of humble civility, and leading the potentate to one end of the guarded piazza, where he was completely isolated from his people, I stationed myself between the table and the sombrero. Some of the prince’s relations attempted to follow him within my inclosure, but, according to established rules, they dared not advance beyond an assigned limit.
When the formalities were over, a dead silence prevailed for some minutes. I looked calmly and firmly into the prince’s eyes, and waited for him to speak. Still he was silent. At last, getting tired of dumb-show, I asked the negro if he had “come to assist me in shipping my slaves; the sun is getting rather high,” said I, “and we had better begin without delay!”
“Did you get my message?” was his reply, “and why haven’t you gone?”
“Of course I received your message,” returned I, “but as I came to New Sestros at my leisure, I intend to go away when it suits me. Besides this, Prince Freeman, I have no fear that you will do me the least harm, especially as I shall be before you in any capers of that sort.”