Chapter Twenty One.
Blown off the Coast—Waller’s Kindness to the Negroes—Run Short of Provisions and Water—Vessel Leaking—American Hard-heartedness—Waller’s Noble Resolve—Beach Bahia—Audacious Trick of Brazilian Slave-dealers.
We had parted from the Opossum about a couple of days, when we observed signs of one of those terrific easterly gales which sometimes blow off the coast of Africa. Waller, from his previous experience, knew them, and remarked them in time, so that we were able to get all snug to meet the wind when it came. On a sudden the hitherto calm leaden water was covered with a foam-drift, like the fine sand swept across the stony desert. The only sail we had set was a close-reefed topsail and storm-jib; the helm was put up, and away she flew before the gale, swift as the albatross on its snowy wing. Away, away we sped, and soon, leaving the African coast far astern, were ploughing the water of the South Atlantic. The Zerlina, though a beautiful model, as are most of her class, was flimsily built, and far from a good sea-boat, speed only having been cared for in her construction. As we got away from the land, we met a good deal of sea, in which she laboured much; and Ned Awlhole, one of the carpenter’s mates, who was acting carpenter, came one afternoon with a very long face into the cabin, where Waller and I were sitting at dinner, to inform us that she was making far more water than was satisfactory.
“Get the pumps rigged, then, and we must try and keep her clear till we can manage to beat back to Sierra Leone,” said Waller, as coolly as if it were a matter of slight importance.
“It is rather a serious thing this, is it not?” I observed. “I wonder you make so light of it.”
“Very serious; and on that account it behoves us, as officers, to keep up our own spirits, and to cheer up the men,” he replied. “I am sorry to say also, that I very much fear we shall fall short of water before we get into port, if this wind continues; and, with all these poor blacks on board, that will indeed be a very serious thing. Good seamanship may enable us to keep, the ship afloat, but God only can provide us with water.”
“What must we do, then?” I asked.
“We must place all hands on short allowance, and we may fall in with some vessel which may supply us; or showers may come, and we may collect enough for our more pressing wants,” he replied. “We must keep the poor negroes on deck as much as possible—with fresh air they may exist with less water.”