As he said this a ray of hope darted into my mind, for I thought that surely I might call out who I was, and then some one would notice that a slave spoke English, which could not be a common thing on the Whydah beach.
As soon as I was well blacked over, and my hair cut close off, so as not to betray my European blood, I was taken down to a courtyard where there were a number of slaves, and was roped into the middle of a string of five. Pentlea, as soon as this was done, struck me and said, “Now, you whelp, you will have a chance of learning about niggers; you’ll soon know as much as your Livingstone you’re always prating about.”
“O Mr. Pentlea,” I answered, “what do you want to do to me? Only let me go, and I’m sure my father will never do anything against you.”
“No, he would not, I daresay; but I’ve old scores against your father, though he don’t know it, and I intend to square yards with him before I’ve done.”
“Why, my father was always kind to you.”
“Kind? ha, ha! D’ye suppose I mean in the Petrel? No, boy; my debt is of old standing. I should have been a rich man but for your father sending two cruisers after me. I lost my ship and my cargo and nearly my life. Now I have you—that counts for one slave—and I’ll have the Petrel too before very long.”
“Let me go, do let me go. I’m sure my father will pay you to let me go.”
“No, you hound; I’ve made up my mind. And you shan’t have a chance to make a noise on the beach.” He proceeded to give orders to have me gagged, which was immediately done by a big negro who seemed to be a sort of driver.
The gates of the courtyard were now opened, and the slaves were driven out on the beach and packed into the bottom of two big surf-boats, which were launched and paddled through the surf and alongside one of the schooners, which turned out to be our old acquaintance the Santa Maria. As soon as we were on deck I was unfastened from the slaves to whom I had been bound, and the gag was removed. The slaves were at once sent down to the hold, and a man whom I recognized as being one of those who had been drinking outside in the veranda said to me, “Here, you younker, I guess you’d better lay aft and keep quiet.”
I did as I was told, and in a few minutes I heard the anchor weighed, and the Santa Maria and her consort were slipping out to sea before the land breeze.