The balance of life vibrated considerably on the African coast. Sometimes Mr. Bull’s scale ascended and sometimes the Slaver’s. It was now the turn of the former to be exalted for a while by way of revenge for my forced hospitality.
Our friends of the Bonito held on with provoking pertinacity in front of my factory, so that I was troubled but little with company from Cuba for several months. At last, however, it became necessary that I should visit a neighboring colony for supplies, and I took advantage of a Russian trader along the coast to effect my purpose. But when we were within sight of our destination, a British cruiser brought us to and visited the “Galopsik.” As her papers were in order, and the vessel altogether untainted, I took it for granted that Lieutenant Hill would make a short stay and be off to his “Saracen.” Yet, a certain “slave deck,” and an unusual quantity of water-casks, aroused the officer’s suspicions, so that instead of heading for our port, we were unceremoniously favored with a prize crew, and ordered to Sierra Leone!
I did not venture to protest against these movements, inasmuch as I had no interest whatever in the craft, but I ventured to suggest that “as I was only a passenger, there could be no objection to my landing before the new voyage was commenced.”
“By no means, sir,” was the prompt reply, “your presence is a material fact for the condemnation of the vessel!” Indeed, I soon found out that I was recognized by some of the Kroomen on the cruiser, and my unlucky reputation was a hole in the bottom of our Russian craft!
At Sierra Leone matters became worse. The Court did not venture to condemn the Russian, but resolved on ordering her to England; and when I re-stated my reasonable appeal for release, I was told that I must accompany the vessel on her visit to Great Britain.
This arbitrary decision of our captors sadly disconcerted my plans. A voyage to England would ruin New Sestros. My barracoons were alive with blacks, but I had not a month’s provisions in my stores. The clerk, temporarily in charge, was altogether unfit to conduct a factory during a prolonged absence,—and all my personal property, as well as Don Pedro’s, was at the hazard of his judgment during a period of considerable difficulty.
I resolved to take “French leave.”
Three men-of-war were anchored astern and on our bows. No boats were allowed to approach us from shore; at night two marines and four sailors paraded the deck, so that it was a thing of some peril to dream of escape in the face of such Arguses. Yet there was no help for it. I could not afford an Admiralty or Chancery suit in England, while my barracoons were foodless in Africa.
No one had been removed from the Russian since her seizure, nor were we denied liberty of motion and intercourse so long as suspicion had not ripened into legal condemnation. The captain, by birth a Spaniard, was an old acquaintance, while the steward and boatswain were good fellows who professed willingness to aid me in any exploit I might devise for my liberty.
I hit upon the plan of a regular carouse; and at once decided that my Spanish skipper was bound to keep his birthday with commendable merriment and abundant grog. There was to be no delay; one day was as good as another for his festival, while all that we needed, was time enough to obtain the requisite supplies of food and fluid.