Captain Fisher was not a man to relax in his efforts, as long as he remained on the station, to suppress the abominable traffic in human beings by all the means in his power. The Sea Sprite continued cruising, accordingly, along the coast, looking in at the different stations, till one morning, at daybreak, a suspicious schooner was seen at anchor, close in with the shore. The increasing light revealed the corvette to those on board. The schooner instantly slipped her cable and stood along the coast, while the Sea Sprite made all sail in chase. Of the character of the vessel there could be no doubt, or she would not have attempted to run from the man-of-war. The Sea Sprite stood as close in as the depth of water would allow; farther in she dare not go. There was still a possibility of the chase escaping. Orlo, as usual, was the most eager on board. He delighted in seeing his countrymen freed from slavery, and he never abandoned the hope of meeting with Era. “I pray I meet her. I know God hear prayer,” said Orlo.
The wind fell. “Out boats,” was the order. Captain Fisher went himself. The chase was a large schooner. A boat was seen to put off from her and pull towards the surf: whether or not she could get through it seemed a question. The English seamen bent to their oars; they were resolved to reach the chase before she could again get the breeze. They dashed alongside, and soon sprang over her bulwarks. No resistance was made. Poor Orlo, glancing round, discovered, to his disappointment, that she had no slaves on board. The master, it was found, had landed with the specie for the purchase of slaves. One of the slave crew—a mate, he looked like—appeared to have a peculiar thickness under his knees; Orlo detected it, and pointed it out to the captain. The master-at-arms was ordered to examine him. Most unwillingly the fellow tucked up his trousers—grinning horribly at Orlo all the time—when he was found to have on a pair of garters, out of each of which rolled thirty doubloons.
The schooner’s head being put off-shore, the boats took her in tow, till, a breeze springing up, sail was made on her for Sierra Leone. The next morning commenced with a thick mist and rain. Orlo, from his quickness of vision, was now constantly employed as one of the look-outs. He was on the watch to go aloft directly it gave signs of clearing. His impatience, however, did not allow him to remain till the mist dispersed. Away aloft he went, observing, “It must fine soon; den I see sip.” He had not been many minutes at the mast-head when he shouted, “Sip in-shore!” He had discovered her royals above the mist. Sail was instantly made in chase. Some time elapsed before the Sea Sprite was discovered. Suddenly the mist cleared, and there appeared close in-shore a large American slave ship. There was no doubt about her, with her great beam and wide spread of canvas.
Hoisting American colours, the stranger made all sail to escape. He was standing off the land; but as on that course he would have had to pass unpleasantly near the corvette, he tacked in-shore, and then bore away along the surf, hoping thus, with his large sails, to draw ahead and escape. The light wind appeared to favour him, but Captain Fisher determined that it should not. Ordering the boats away, he took one with a strongly-armed crew, and pulled to windward to cut off the chase, while two others went to leeward, so that his chance of escaping was small indeed. The slave captain seemed to think so likewise. He dared not meet in fight the true-hearted British seaman. Regardless of the risk he and his own crew would run, of the destruction he was about to bring on hundreds of his fellow-creatures, the savage slave captain put up his helm, and ran the ship under all sail towards the shore.
“What is the fellow about?” exclaimed Captain Fisher. “If that ship is full, as she seems to be, she has not less than four or five hundred human beings on board, and he’ll run the risk of drowning every one of them.”
It was too evident, however, that this was the design of the slaver’s captain. His heart was seared. Long accustomed to human suffering in every possible form, he set no more value on the lives of his cargo than if they had been so many sheep, except so far as they could be exchanged for all-potent dollars. On flew the beautiful fabric—for beautiful she was, in spite of her nefarious employment—to destruction. With all her sails set, through the roaring surf she dashed, then rose on the summit of a sea, and down she came, striking heavily, her ropes flying wildly and her sails flapping furiously in the breeze. What mattered it to the slaver’s crew that they left their hapless passengers to perish! Their boats were lowered, and, with such valuables as they could secure, and some of the slaves which, for their greater value, they wished to save, they made their escape to shore, leaving the ship, with the American colours flying, to her fate.
Captain Fisher and the other boats now closed with the wreck, while the corvette also was standing in. When close as she could venture to come, she anchored, and the master came off from her in a whale-boat and joined the other boats. Terrible was the sight which now met the eyes of the English seamen. Orlo beheld it, too, with horror and anguish. As the ship rolled fearfully from side to side, the terrified negroes forced their way up on deck, and in their wild despair, not knowing what to do, many leaped into the raging breakers which swept by alongside, and, helplessly whirling round and round, were soon hidden beneath the waves. One after the other the poor wretches rushed up on deck; many, following the impulse of the first, leaped overboard to meet a like speedy death; others, clinging to the wreck, were washed overboard; some of the stronger still clung on; but many yet remained below.
“This is sad work,” exclaimed Captain Fisher. “We must save these poor people at all hazards.”
A cheer was the reply, and, the men giving way, the boats dashed at great hazard through the surf to leeward of the wreck; but here it seemed almost impossible to board her from the heavy lurches she was making, sending the blocks and spars and rigging flying over their heads, and threatening to swamp the boats should they get alongside. Still Captain Fisher and his gallant followers persevered. He was the first on board, and Orlo leaped on the deck after him. The scene appeared even more horrible than at a distance. The negroes, as they could get clear of their manacles, climbed up from the slave deck, and ran to and fro, shrieking and crying out like people deprived of reason. Some ran on till they sprang overboard; others turned again, and continued running backwards and forwards, till the seamen were compelled to catch them and throw them below till the boats could be got ready for their rescue. The captain ordered Orlo to try and pacify them. He answered, that their extreme terror arose from the idea which the slaver’s crew had given them, that the object of the English in taking possession of the vessel was to cut all their throats. Orlo did his best to quiet their fears when he learned the cause, assuring them the reason the British seaman had come on board was to do them good, and to try and save their lives. It was some time, however, before they would credit his assertions. The ship’s barge had now been brought in and anchored just outside the rollers, while the cutter was backed in under the slaver’s counter. Three of the slaves at a time were then allowed to come up, and were lowered into the boat, from which the whale-boat took them through the surf to the barge, and that when full ultimately carried them to the corvette. The process was of necessity slow, the toil was excessive, and the danger very great; but the British seamen did not shrink from it. Orlo had from the first, while acting as interpreter, been scanning the countenances of all he met, making inquiries of those who could understand his language (for all could not do so) if they could give him any information about his beloved Era. Again and again he went below, but the darkness prevented him from distinguishing any one, and the shrieks, groans, and cries from making his voice heard, or from hearing what any one might have said.
Night closed on the hitherto unremitting labours of the gallant crew. They had thus saved two hundred poor wretches, but upwards of two hundred remained on board when darkness made it impossible to remove them. Still, could they be left to perish, which they probably would if left alone? The slaver’s crew might return, and either attempt to land them, to keep them in captivity, or burn the ship, to prevent them from falling into the hands of the British. The risk of remaining was very great, but several officers volunteered. Orlo’s friend, Lieutenant —, claimed the privilege, and Orlo begged that he might remain with him. The last performance of the boats was to bring off some rice which had been found in the captured schooner, and cooked, thoughtfully, by the captain’s orders, in his coppers, in readiness for the liberated negroes. Plenty of men were ready to remain with Lieutenant —. Without this supply of food, few, probably, of the slaves on board would have survived the night; even as it was, many of those who were rescued died on their passage to the corvette, or on her decks. Lieutenant — and his brave companions had truly a night of trial. The wind increased, the surf roared louder and louder as it broke around them, the ship rolled and struck more and more violently, till it seemed impossible that she could hold together, while all this time the unhappy captives below were shrieking and crying out most piteously for help. Poor creatures! they knew not how to pray, or to whom to pray. They thought and believed, and not without reason, that a Fetish, or spirit of evil, had got possession of them, and was wreaking his malice on their heads. Orlo gladly, by the lieutenant’s orders, went frequently below to try and comfort them, and to assure them that by the return of daylight fresh efforts would be made for their rescue. Still great indeed were their sufferings. Many, both men, women, and children, died during that fearful night, from wet, cold, fear, and hunger, as they sat, still closely packed on the slave deck. Orlo’s kind heart made him suffer almost as much as they were doing—the more so that he felt how little could be done to relieve them.