On the Look-Out.

Page 48.

IN SAVAGE AFRICA

BY
Verney Lovett Cameron, C.B., D.C.L.,
Commander Royal Navy.

Surf-Boat Capsized.

Page 82.

Thomas Nelson and Sons,
LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK.

In Savage Africa

OR,
The Adventure of Frank Baldwin
From the Gold Coast
To Zanzibar.
BY
VERNEY LOVETT CAMERON, C.B., D.C.L.,
COMMANDER ROYAL NAVY;
AUTHOR OF “JACK HOOPER,” “ACROSS AFRICA,”
“OUR FUTURE HIGHWAY,”
ETC. ETC.
—————
With Thirty-Two Illustrations.
—————
London:
T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW.
EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.
———
1887.

IN SAVAGE AFRICA.

CHAPTER I.
LEAVING SCHOOL.

In the year of our Lord 18—, I was delighted one morning by receiving a letter from my father, who was captain and owner of the brig Petrel, telling me that he had arrived safely at Bristol with a valuable cargo, and that both he and my brother Willie, who was second mate of the Petrel, were well. The letter went on to say that my father had decided on taking me to sea with him, and had written to my schoolmaster, the Rev. Stephen Poynter of Clifton, to announce his intention. The letter also said that in two days’ time Willie would come to take me away from school, and that I was to have everything ready for starting when he came. According to the custom of the school, I had received my letter in the ten minutes which were given to us for a run in the playground before commencing our work after breakfast, and, as may be imagined, I lost no time in announcing its contents to my school-fellows, considering myself a very fine and important fellow to have finished my school days. The bell stopped short a description of the Petrel in which I was indulging, and we all had to hurry in and take our places at prayers, and when they were finished, to commence our ordinary tasks. I took my place at my desk, and opened my books. I must own, however, I did not think much of what they contained, and, under their cover, I tried to read over again my father’s letter which had announced the coming change in my life. I could not help thinking that it was very wrong for the head-master to keep such an important personage, as I had now in my own estimation become, sitting on a hard bench at a black desk to con over rules of arithmetic, and I kept looking at the door of the class-room to see if old Abe the porter would not come to summon me to the head-master’s presence.

Indeed, my inattention became so marked that twice the usher of the room said, “Baldwin, if you don’t go on with your work I shall have to punish you.” He was just on the point of leaving his seat to come over to me, when at last the door opened, and old Abe appeared, calling out, “Master Baldwin, wanted in the head-master’s study.” Usually, such a summons was the reverse of pleasant, for it meant, as a rule, that the boy who was called out had to answer for some mischief, and he was loath to answer the call. I, however, having a free conscience, jumped up at once; and the usher, who did not know of my approaching departure, said, “There, Baldwin, you’re wanted by the head-master. I suppose you have been up to some mischief, and that anticipation of your punishment has caused you to be inattentive.”

I smiled to those of my comrades to whom I had shown my letter, and went past the usher with a sort of swaggering show of independence; and he very rightly made me return to my seat and leave the room properly. As soon as I left, old Abe led the way to the double doors which separated Mr. Poynter’s private residence from the schoolrooms, and of which only he and the masters had the keys, and opened them, saying with a grin as he did so,—

“He hasn’t chosen the cane yet; what is it you have been up to?”

“Nothing, Abe. I’m going to leave.”

“Going to leave are you, and the holidays a month off yet! What is it for?”

I somewhat resented old Abe’s familiarity, with whom the boys were on the best of terms, and said in as dignified manner as I could, “I’m going to sea.”

“Going to sea, is it? Well, you’ll wish yourself back here before long. Going to sea! Salt beef and weevilly biscuit won’t suit as well as what you get to eat here.”

“I shan’t have salt beef and weevilly biscuit; I’m going in my father’s ship the Petrel.”

“Well, I never heard of a ship yet where there wasn’t salt beef. But now the master mustn’t be kept waiting; just you hurry on to his study.”

I went along a passage on which the doors opened, and crossing the hall, knocked at Mr. Poynter’s study door. As soon as I had knocked I heard Mr. Poynter say, “Come in;” and, opening the door, I found him sitting in his arm-chair, with my father’s letter in his hand. He motioned to me to sit down in a chair opposite to him, and said,—

“Frank, my boy, you know why I have sent for you, as your father tells me he has written to you that you are to leave us in a couple of days. Now, this will be a great change in your life; and although I think that most boys should stop at school till they are at least eighteen, you are now old enough to commence the life of a sailor. You are sixteen, are you not?”

“Yes, sir; I was sixteen two months ago.”

“I have little to say about the temptations to which you will be exposed, for as you will be under your father’s own eye, you will be shielded from many which usually assail the young; but remember always that, even if you are tempted to do what is wrong by the thought that your earthly father will know nothing about it, your heavenly Father’s eye is all-seeing, and that no thought or deed can escape him. For the five years you have been here you have given me satisfaction; but still, I have seen symptoms of self-will, and an inclination not always to obey with readiness. Remember that in a sailor instant and prompt obedience

FRANK’S INTERVIEW WITH MR. POYNTER.

Page 12.

is absolutely necessary, as you will soon learn; and he who cannot obey will never be fit to command. As to your studies, your father will doubtless look after your navigation; and I will write to him and tell him what other subjects will, in my opinion, best repay your continued attention. Now I do not suppose you can pay much attention to your work, so you may tell Mr. Stone that as you are going to leave us so soon, I have excused you from further attendance in the school-room, and you may gather all your things together, in readiness for packing up.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said; and then, nerved to boldness by the kindness of Mr. Poynter’s manner, I begged that he would grant my comrades a holiday.

“That’s a big request, Baldwin. You must remember that they are not all going to sea, and have to fit themselves by study for their future callings; besides, in three weeks the examination takes place, and they want every moment to prepare themselves, so that they may do credit to the school before the examiners.”

“Yes, sir; but if I leave in two days I shall not be able to play in the cricket-match between the first eleven and the next fifteen, while if you gave us a holiday to-morrow we could play then.”

“That is, no doubt, a most important matter in your mind, but it is not so important to me. However, I will think about it. Now I have lots to do, so you must run away.”

I left the study rather slowly, and was almost about to urge my request again, when Mr. Poynter said, “Remember obedience;” and I at once saw that the ultimate granting of the holiday would depend on my being promptly obedient, and left without saying another word.

Old Abe was by the double doors to let me back into the school, and I said,—

“All right, old Abe; there are no more lessons for me.”

He looked at me and smiled, and answered,—

“No more lessons! why, my poor lad, you will find that all this life is one long lesson. You will have many a one to learn which will not be so easy as the tasks which they set you here. Now Mr. Stone won’t want you in the schoolroom, I’ll warrant; so if you go and tell him what the head has said, and then come back to me, I’ll just help you to get your box up, ready to pack your clothes and things in.”

I thought this was very good of old Abe, and did not think that all the boxes had to be got from the cellar, where they were kept by old Abe and his assistants. I went into the classroom, where I went up to Mr. Stone and said,—

“Please, sir, the head-master has told me I need do no more lessons, but that I may begin to get my things together, ready for going away.”

“Going away, are you! that is why you were so inattentive this morning, I suppose.”

“Yes, sir. My brother Willie is coming for me the day after to-morrow, and I am to go to sea with him and my father in the Petrel.”

“Very well, my lad; but you must not make a noise here, for there are boys who are not going to sea. So get away, and you can tell all about it when we come out of school at half-past twelve. Now don’t speak to any one, but go at once.”

I remembered “obedience,” and did as I was told. Leaving the room, I found old Abe waiting for me with the key of the cellar, and followed him down, and soon found my box, which with him I carried up into the dormitory which I shared with nine of my school-fellows. Here I found the matron and one of the maids busy getting my clothes ready for packing up.

When the matron, Mrs. Stevens, saw Abe and me carrying in my box, she said,—

“Now, Abe, don’t you know how particular Mr. Poynter is that none of the young gentlemen should carry their boxes about?”

“Why, ma’am,” he answered, “Master Baldwin’s going to sea, and he’ll have more hard work to do than help an old man to carry an empty box.”

“That will do, Abe. Mind, if I find you disobeying orders again, I shall tell Mr. Poynter.—Now, Master Baldwin, I do not think you can be any use here. I will leave out your best suit for you to go away in, and will have a place for your books. You had better go to the room and get all your belongings together in the way of bats and balls, and pack them in your play-box.”

Old Abe and I left the room at once, and he said to me,—

“Now that’s done. She can’t abear an old man getting a bit of help. But, Master Baldwin, there are your rabbits and pigeons. Now, there’s not a boy among them all who takes care of their pets like you do. I wonder what will become of them!”

I certainly was flattered by what old Abe said, for I believed my white Himalayan rabbits, with their black noses and ears, and my pair of tumbler pigeons, to be the best of all the pets which were kept by the boys in the school playground; and I also prided myself that the rabbit-hutch and dove-cot, which I had made with my own hands, were superior to the various receptacles of the pets of my schoolfellows. I therefore fell into the trap which he had set for me.

“Why, Abe, I don’t know. There’s Jones Major, he has some pigeons, and looks well after them; and Brown too, he has lost his two carriers; and Smith, he has been wanting to buy my rabbits this long time.”

“Surely, sir, a gentleman like you, a-leaving school and going to sea, and all, can’t be thinking of selling his rabbits. Sailors are fine generous fellows, and they always give away things. I mind one I saw not a fortnight agone as gave an old man a ten-shilling bit. But don’t you be after giving them lovely rabbits to that young Smith; he don’t know how to feed or look after them, and they’ll be dead in a week with him. And as for Master Brown, it’s my opinion he kept his carriers so dirty and half-starved, that when he let them out they made up their minds not to come back again. Now, sir, I could keep them nicely. I do love a good pigeon and a handsome rabbit; and I can warrant you that they’d be well taken care of.”

I had certainly had an idea of selling both pigeons and rabbits to pay some small schoolboy debts; but I felt my character as a generous sailor was at stake, and not to be outdone by the anonymous sailor who gave an old man a ten-shilling bit, I gave rabbits and pigeons to old Abe. He then asked me to come and look at my boots and shoes, and would soon have begged all from me if Mrs. Stevens had not arrived upon the scene and sent him about his work, grumbling sadly at being sent away from a young gentleman whom he always said “was the nicest lad he had ever set his eyes on.”

Mrs. Stevens told me I must learn not to be taken in; and when I said I had given my rabbits and pigeons to old Abe because he would look after them, she said, “Why, you must be foolish. Master Baldwin. He will sell them before you have left the place.”

By this time school-hours were over, and I was soon surrounded by all my class-fellows asking me for a description of the Petrel, and where she had been, and where she was going. As whenever my father had been at home I had passed my holidays with him, I was fully able to say what the good brig Petrel was like. I believe that I was so proud of her that if all I said had been true she would have been as big as Nelson’s flagship the Victory, and that in her my father and brother had gone through as many adventures as Anson in the Centurion, or Drake and the brave hearts who, first of Englishmen, sailed round the world in the famous Pelican.

But these stories were all repetitions, for I had been wont to tell marvellous stories of the Petrel, her captain and crew, whenever I returned to school after having spent my holidays with my father. Far more interest was excited by the announcement that I had been bold enough to ask for a holiday for the next day, and that the governor, as we called Mr. Poynter, had shown some inclination to grant it.

As soon as the excitement had somewhat abated, Smith, Brown, and Jones Major, and other rabbit and pigeon fanciers, came about me to find out if there was any chance of their becoming the fortunate possessors of my Himalayan rabbits and tumbler pigeons; and great was their disappointment at finding that I had given them to old Abe, who, it was at once said, would sell them to the highest bidder.

I had to promise to bring home an army of monkeys and a whole brigade of parrots before I could appease the reproaches of those who, like me, were fond of pets; and then I had to give to my special chums such little schoolboy treasures as they might value for keepsakes. In return many willing hands helped me to carry my books up to the dormitory to be packed up, and the bell rang for dinner whilst we were engaged about what we called helping (but which Mrs. Stevens called hindering) to pack my box.

After dinner I saw Mr. Poynter again, and from him obtained the promise of a holiday for the next day, the announcement of which was hailed with delight by the whole school; and great were the preparations for the cricket-match which was to take place.

I did not find as much pleasure as I had anticipated in being excused from school. It was very lonely work being about in the playground and fives-courts while they were untenanted, and, even with the prospect of having a stiff piece of construing to do, I would gladly have joined my class in their work. I was delighted when evening came, and with it the companionship of my fellows, to whom I might anew dilate on the Petrel and her crew. Indeed, long after we had gone to bed, my dormitory was the scene of acted feats of boarding pirates and other such-like deeds, until the noise made by one party, who with their bolsters represented the British sailors driving the pirates from their last retreat, brought Mr. Poynter on the scene. Then pirates and sailors, friends and foes, scuttled into bed and pretended to be most virtuously asleep; but a threat from the head-master, that if he heard any more noise the promised holiday should be withheld, caused our riotous antics to be discontinued for the night, and our feigned slumbers soon became real ones.

Next morning dawned bright and sunny, and more pleasure was in store for us than I had anticipated; for my brother Willie arrived before the day commenced, and my father had told him to come to Clifton and see that I cleared out from school with all due éclat. When Willie found that Mr. Poynter had given us a holiday, he begged and obtained leave to add some fruit, cakes, and tarts to our dinner, which we were allowed to have in the cricket-field instead of returning to the schoolhouse for it, as was usually the custom.

I was in the eleven, and their most trusted bowler, and to-day it seemed as if I was bound to surpass myself, for wicket after wicket of the fifteen fell before my attack; and when our innings came. I, though I went in sixth, carried my bat out for thirty-five runs. In the second innings of the fifteen I was even more successful than in their first, taking no less than ten wickets for thirty-eight runs. In the end the eleven were victorious by an innings and seventeen runs.

My brother Willie, who had left the school about four years before, was known to several of the older boys, and his stories of what he had actually seen on the coast of Africa, where my father traded, quite eclipsed in interest all that I had told the day before. His sailor dress, bronzed face, and, above all, the tattooing with which his arms were ornamented, were the subjects of admiration of all my schoolfellows, those who had been with him at school seeming to consider themselves as quite above those unfortunates who had joined the school since he had left.

Old Abe drew half a crown from him by saying that he was quite the finest young sailor whom he had ever seen. Indeed Willie, who was now nineteen, and fully five feet ten inches in height, was a picture of what the officer of a smart craft should be. His well-fitting blue clothes with brass anchor buttons suited his athletic figure admirably, while his dark curly hair, brown eyes, and open, smiling face were well calculated to win the affection of all who saw him.

I was delighted with the admiration he elicited, and though I was proud of my success that day in the cricket-field, I was still prouder of my handsome brother, and looked forward to the day when, on my return from some exciting voyage, I might, like him, have stirring tales of adventure to recite to my old chums. I little thought that before I again visited my old school I should pass through so many dangers and perils as fell to my lot.

CHAPTER II.
OFF TO SEA.

Next morning, my boxes having been sent down to the coach-office, Willie and I bade good-bye to my schoolfellows, Mrs. Stevens, and old Abe. I found, just before leaving, that Abe had sold my rabbits to Smith for seven shillings and my tumblers to Jones Major for five shillings; so that when I gave him the five shillings which was his allotted share of the money my father had sent me to make presents with, he had made nearly a pound out of me.

Our farewell from Mr. Poynter was last. He gave me much good advice and his blessing, and specially impressed on me what he had told me the day before about the necessity of obedience. “And now,” he said, “I will give you your sailing directions for life. Your brother can tell you that in all strange seas the captain consults his sailing directions in order to avoid shoals and dangers, and find out where there are safe anchorages. Life is a strange sea which has to be navigated by all of us, and the shoals and dangers are sins and temptations. In this Bible you will find directions how you may steer clear of them, and in it also you will find refreshment for your soul when it is weary; and it contains directions how we may all at length attain to that haven for which we all long—the kingdom of heaven. God bless you, my boy; and tell your father that I have great cause to be satisfied with your conduct while under my care, and I trust he may find that his confidence in me has not been misplaced. Good-bye, Frank; and good-bye, Willie. Remember whenever either of you have time to come and see your old schoolmaster, you will be welcome. Remember me to your father. And now you must go, or you will be too late for your coach.”

We said good-bye to Mr. Poynter, and hurried away to the hotel from which the Bristol coach started. We found the horses being put to, and soon we were bowling along for Bristol.

I may now just tell in a few words the history of my family up to this time, so that my readers may understand any allusions that I may make in the course of this narrative of my adventures.

My father was the younger son of a Bristol merchant, and chose at an early age the sea for a profession; and as soon as possible my grandfather got him placed in command of one of the vessels trading between Liverpool and the West Coast of Africa. His only brother on my grandfather’s death left the business and settled down on a small estate in Somersetshire which he had bought; and when my father was away from England it was at his house that my brother and I had usually spent our holidays.

My father had married shortly before the death of my grandfather, and having given up going to sea had taken up his position as a partner in the business. Two years after my birth my mother died, and my father, finding that his home was lonely without her, took command of one of the ships of the firm, his widowed sister Fanny, whose husband, Mr. Carter, had been unfortunate in trade, taking charge of his house and Willie and myself.

For some time my father’s ventures had prospered exceedingly; but there came a time when fire and shipwreck caused him heavy losses, and he found that he had not sufficient capital to employ more ships than the Petrel. At the time this story commences the Petrel had been launched about three years, and in it my father traded to the coast of Africa on his own account. He was already looking forward to the time when he could turn over her command to my brother, and, giving up the toil of a seafaring life, again settle down in his old house at Bristol on the quayside, where he would see the ships arriving and sailing, loading and discharging their cargo, and by his knowledge of trade find means to start me as well as my brother in a ship of my own.

My aunt Fanny was a second mother to Willie and myself, and, though a sailor’s sister, she had a horror of the sea, and often begged my father to give up the Petrel, and earn a living as a merchant, finding some employment for us boys either in his own office or in that of some of his friends, who were numerous and influential. Her entreaties, however, were of little avail; and if my father did at times show signs of yielding to her arguments, Willie and myself were always in favour of a sailor’s life, and carried the day against her.

During the last voyage of the Petrel, my father, having visited Kinsimbo, where he had done a good trade with the natives, went as far south as St. Paul de Loanda, thinking that perchance at Loanda he might more quickly complete his cargo than he could elsewhere.

In this he had been greatly favoured; for a few days after he anchored, David Livingstone, a missionary from South Africa, arrived, having penetrated through countries which up to that time had been unknown, and was accompanied by some men belonging to a tribe called Makololo, who were seeking a market for their ivory. This ivory my father was able to purchase at a rate which returned him a fair profit.

Willie was full of what Livingstone, whom he regarded as a hero, had gone through, and he told me that even better and more exciting than the life of a sailor was that of a traveller and explorer in Africa.

“Only fancy, Frank, herds of elephants to be shot! adventures with lions and all sorts of strange people! Then Livingstone himself, he is loved by the natives, and so doubtless would any man who treated them fairly. Livingstone could well have come home from Loanda, and every one at home would have run after him to hear what he had got to tell; but to all who urged him to return to England he replied that he had promised Sekeletu, the chief of the Makololo, to take his people back to their homes, and that he could not go back from his plighted word. He had an ox which he rode called Sindbad, and it was as good as any horse. I do wish father would let me try to travel in Africa. There are all sorts of people who come down to the coast with ivory and india-rubber to buy guns, brass rods, beads, and calico, and I am sure that a journey into the interior would bring more profit than a dozen voyages to the coast.”

I was quite infected with Willie’s African fever, and listened with a greedy ear to all the stories he told me of hunting and shooting which he had picked up from Livingstone’s men, and of the bravery and devotion Livingstone had shown.

These stories and descriptions of different places that the Petrel had visited in her last voyage made the time seem short, and I was almost sorry when the coach drew up in front of the Admiral Nelson.

“Welcome, Frank,” shouted my father, who was waiting for us. “Here’s Jack Adams,” pointing to a seaman who was standing by; “he will look after your traps, while we will go round by Harris the outfitter’s and give orders about your sea-going kit. And then, after you’ve seen your aunt Fanny, you can go on board the Petrel, and Willie will show you where you’re to sling your hammock. Her stern is hauled to the quay just abreast of our door. There’s no place like Bristol quay for the house of a shipmaster and owner. Now, Will, what sort of report did Mr. Poynter give of the lad?”

“A good one, sir,” he answered. “And he wound up his school-days well by playing cricket as he had never played before yesterday.”

“That’s right, Frank; whatever you do, do it well. And though you won’t have much chance for cricket now, the same qualities which make a boy a good cricket-player are useful to the seaman.”

“O my dear father,” I said, “I am so glad to see you again, and to think that I am to go to sea with you, and not be long months without hearing anything of you or Willie.”

“All right; but I am taking you in my own ship to watch over you and not to pet you. I expect that you, as the captain’s son, will be an example to the other apprentices, and mind that the first thing that you’ve got to learn is to obey orders without any questioning. ‘Obey orders and break owners’ is a downright good maxim.”

“Why, Mr. Poynter told me the same in different words. He said obedience was the thing which was most necessary to me.”

“Yes, lad, and he’s right. Now I have never found you disobedient, and Aunt Fanny says that though you do get into scrapes you are a biddable boy; but you will have many orders given you which are disagreeable to obey, and which seem foolish. Never question them, but obey at once. You will have to obey Willie, now he is second mate, as well as myself and the chief officer. But here is Harris’s shop. Come in and we will look after your kit.”

Mr. Harris, who had known my father for many years, was delighted to see him, and still more pleased when he found that he was to receive a liberal order for my outfit.

It was amusing to see the various things that he said were absolutely necessary for a young gentleman on going to sea, and which, as Willie said, would, if we had taken them all, have freighted the brig; but my father soon put much on one side. Among the chiefest of my delights in Mr. Harris’s shop, after the all-important orders had been given for my jackets of navy blue with brass buttons and my suit of oilskins and south-wester all complete, was the choosing of a telescope ornamented with flags of Marryat’s code and a quadrant, which my father said Willie would have to teach me to use as soon as we got to sea.

From Mr. Harris’s shop we made our way to the house on the quayside; and there Aunt Fanny was waiting to welcome us, and had dinner ready, for which I was well prepared by the drive on the top of the coach from Clifton. But my eagerness to see as much as possible of the Petrel kept me running to the window of the room, which was on the first floor,—the ground floor being used as offices and sample-rooms,—to have a look at her.

My aunt said, “You will see enough of her, Frank; sit still now and eat your dinner. I daresay many a time while you are away you will wish yourself in this old house, and long to have as good a meal as you are now neglecting.”

“Perhaps so, aunt; but I do want to see the Petrel. There is all her cargo coming on shore; and oh, there are such a lot of tusks of ivory.—Father, mayn’t I go and look at them?”

“Directly, my boy. Willie, you must go and relieve Mr. Hammond [the chief officer]; and be careful how you check the things as they are landed. All the ivory is to go to Messrs. King, and I am going to see if they will advance their price on the oil and rubber. Let Jack Adams take charge of Frank, and teach him something of the masts and rigging.”

“O father, I know all the names of the masts, yards, and sails, and can tie lots of sailors’ knots.”

“Good, my boy, but you must learn the use of them; and you cannot go to work to-day as I intend you to, but to-morrow you will have a canvas suit, and then you will begin to really learn to be a sailor.”

Grace being said, I flew downstairs and across to the Petrel, Willie following me in a more leisurely manner suited to his dignity as second mate; and Mr. Hammond gave over to him the work of superintending the discharging cargo; while Jack Adams, who was employed in serving a new set of tacks and sheets, was called from his work to give me my first lesson in practical seamanship.

“You see,” said Jack, “as how in all seamanship and rigging there is a reason; and though many a man is rated A.B. ’cause he can hand, reef, and steer, heave the lead, and sew a seam, he can get no further, ’cause why he don’t know the reason why the helm is put up or down, and only knows his work as Black Bill’s parrot knows how to talk without knowing the meanin’ o’ what he says,—though, maybe, I wrongs old Poll, for as soon as he sees the coppers a-boiling for dinner he sings, ‘Hot potatoes,’ which he never does afore breakfast or tea. But now I wants you to learn why things is; and we will go forward in the ship, and take a look at the bowsprit, for that’s the principal spar in the ship, and on it others depend.”

I went along with Jack Adams, and was soon deep in the mystery of inner and outer gammonings, bob-stays, bowsprit shrouds, and forestay collars. I thought when I had been once through them that I should remember; but Jack was a thorough seaman, and he said as far as an old tarpaulin’s teaching should go I should be one too.

After a time he was satisfied that I understood the names, uses, and places of the various fittings of the bowsprit, and said, “Now, you must larn how they are put in their place and secured. Our gammoning, you see, is covered over with lead, for to presarve it from damage; and you can’t see how it is passed, nor perceive the merits of a thorough-put turn. But there’s the Mohican, belonging to Mr. King, got her bows into the quay, and they are gammoning her bowsprit. Now you can come and see with me the most important piece of work in fitting out a ship, and which must be done judgematically by a good seaman. Bobstays, fore-stays—all your rigging may be well fitted, but if the gammoning is wrong you’ll spring your bowsprit to a sartainty; and why then, you sees, your foremast must follow, and your main-topmast follows that. Gammoning, to my mind, is a sort of thing like the heart of the rigging: when it’s finished, it’s hidden from you; but if it goes, all goes. So your heart you can’t see; but if your heart’s wounded, the man dies. I’m not larned, but you understand what I means.”

“Certainly, Jack. Where is the Mohican? Oh, there—is that she—that ship with a great cask hanging from her bowsprit, and some men heaving at a capstan under her bows?”

“Right. Now we’ll go and have a squint at them, and then you will see how the gammoning’s passed and secured; and if you remembers that, why you’ll have made a good bit of headway.”

We were soon under the bows of the Mohican; and when her mate, who was superintending the work, heard from Jack Adams that I was a son of Captain Baldwin, he told me to come up on the knight-heads, and explained everything to me; and when the men knocked off work, I considered that I thoroughly understood the mystery of gammoning a bowsprit.

My father seemed well pleased when I told him how my afternoon had been passed; and next day, in a canvas suit, I was again put under the charge of Jack, and passed the ball for him while he served the tacks and sheets. Afterwards for several days I worked with him in fitting different parts of the rigging; for my father said the only way to become a sailor was to begin at the beginning, and though I was a skipper’s son, I should put my arm in the tar-pot and slush-bucket as well as the other boys belonging to the Petrel.

At last the cargo which the Petrel had brought home was all discharged, and her hold clean swept; and I was put under the charge of Mr. Hammond, to learn how a hold should be stowed. In the evenings my father showed specimens of the various articles used in the African trade, and told me where each sort of cloth, bead, wire, or what not, was of value, and for what it should be exchanged.

The day came when the holds were stowed and the sails bent, and we were all ready for sea. My father arranged for the pilot to come on board for us to sail the next morning; but, unfortunately, that very same day Mr. Hammond broke his leg, and his berth as mate had to be filled up at a moment’s notice. His place was taken by one Simon Pentlea, a Cornish man, who had capital papers from the master of the last ship he had sailed in, and who was evidently a thorough seaman. But he was as different in manner as possible from the open-hearted, sunny-tempered Mr. Hammond, being a silent, taciturn man, who never seemed to look one straight in the face, but at the same time managed to see all that was going on, and when speaking, one felt as if his shifty eyes were fathoming the very depths of one’s heart and spying out one’s inmost thoughts.

My father had not time to make further inquiries into the antecedents of Mr. Pentlea, who said all his other papers were at his home in an outlying village in Cornwall, where the post seldom went, and that it would be impossible for him to say how soon he would be able to get them; and as he had not sailed out of Bristol before, he could give no references in that town. However, as the papers he had from the master of the British Queen of Liverpool, which had been engaged in the West African trade, said he had given full satisfaction for two years, and fully understood the African trade, and was acquainted with the different anchorages in the Bight of Benin, my father thought himself lucky to be able at once to secure so good a substitute for Mr. Hammond.

Nothing worthy of note happened during our departure, and a fresh easterly wind carried us out of the Bristol Channel, past Lundy, and well out to sea beyond the Admiralty Bank. I was not at all seasick, and I was delighted to see the Petrel, with all her snowy canvas set, slipping through the water, and passing a number of colliers and coasting craft, and I felt very proud of being one of her crew.

The Petrel, indeed, was a vessel of which any one might be proud. For a brig, she was a very large craft, being three hundred and fifty tons burden, and a very handsome one into the bargain; and my father insisted on her being kept in such perfect order that she was often taken for a man-of-war, and as she carried four twelve-pound carronades on either side the mistake was a very natural one. The crew consisted of my father, the two mates, Simon Pentlea and my brother, and sixteen men before the mast, including Jack Adams, who was called the boatswain; Sam Peters, who was sailmaker; the cook, Black Bill, who had many years before been picked up on part of the wreck of a slaver by my father; Tom Sentall, the carpenter; besides myself and another apprentice, James Harris, whom we always called Jimmy Duds, and a steward, a black Sierra Leone man, named Augustus Warspite, the latter name being that of a man-of-war which had captured a Spanish slaver, of which he formed part of the cargo. My father, with Willie and Mr. Pentlea, had berths in the cabin, which was right aft; and forward of this was an open space bulkheaded off from the hold, which was called the trade-room, and here Adams, Peters, Sentall, Jimmy Duds, and I had our chests, and messed and slept. Black Bill and Augustus had a berth each in the galley, which was on deck just forward of two large surf-boats which we carried on skids before the mainmast. The rest of the men had their berths below forward; but there was a fine roomy top-gallant forecastle, under which they could sleep in the tropics, whilst aft there was a small monkey-poop running ten feet from the taffrail, which was useful for the officers in hot weather. Besides the surf-boats, we carried two cutters and a gig; and as is the good custom in the Bristol trade, there was a library on board, which was kept in a cupboard in the trade-room, and which my father put under my charge. We were also provisioned differently from ordinary merchant-ships, many little extra luxuries being provided, to cheer the lot of the men during the monotonous days that must be spent off the African coast in waiting for trade.

All the men were regular Bristol men, and the work went easy enough, for every man pulled his pound; and though I had just the same work to do as Jimmy Duds, and had to stand my watch and take my turn at the look-out, and always in my watch to help in furling and loosing the upper sails, yet my father found time for me to learn how to use my quadrant and to teach me navigation.

CHAPTER III.
UNPLEASANT NEWS.

Our voyage to the West Coast was unchequered by any incident. We ran past Madeira and Teneriffe, and sighting Cape Verde and Sierra Leone, we first anchored off Solymah, a place on the African coast, where my father left some goods on trust, the country produce in payment for which was to be ready for us on our return. The chiefs with whom he traded, he said, could be thoroughly relied on, though they also had many dealings with slave-traders. The next place off which we anchored was Cape Mount, where Captain Caillaud, a notorious slave-trader, had his head-quarters, and where our appearance at first caused a scare on board two Spanish schooners which were lying there, and which, as soon as we hove in sight, made sail and got under way. But when they saw that we did not chase them, they lay-to in the offing; and signals being made to them from Caillaud’s barracoons that we were not to be feared, they returned to the anchorage and came-to alongside of us.

ISLAND OF TENERIFFE.

Page 38.

I was very much excited at seeing real slavers, and examined them long and closely through my spy-glass. They were both most beautiful craft, long and low; and though their black hulls were unrelieved by any stripe or colour, they were most carefully kept, and their masts, spars, and sails were in perfect order. To look at them one would have thought that, instead of being devoted to that most detestable trade in human beings, they were the floating homes of some enthusiastic yachtsmen.

As I was watching them, I saw the one nearest to us lower a gig, which, when it was manned, came alongside of us. A man dressed in a striped shirt and white trousers, with a scarlet silk sash round his waist, in which were a brace of pistols and a long dagger, came up on deck, and in broken English asked to speak with our captain. My father asked what he might want, and he said he had been sent to inquire if we could supply them with any stores for their cabin, for which he would pay in Spanish doubloons. At first my father said that he did not wish to have any dealings with people engaged in the slave-trade; but the Spaniard told him that it was a question of must, for if he did not let them have what was wanted willingly, in which case he would be paid, and paid handsomely, the Santa Maria, as his vessel was called, and her consort the Santiago were quite strong enough to help themselves.

My father saw that there was nothing for it but to make the best of a bad bargain; and while he was talking to his unwelcome visitor, Mr. Pentlea, who had been forward on the forecastle attending to some work, came aft, and we were all astonished to find that he was recognized by the Spaniard, who at once addressed him in Spanish, and to whom he replied in the same language.

“Hallo, Mr. Pentlea,” said my father. “Do you know this person; and can you talk Spanish?”

“Yes, sir. For some time I was on board an American schooner which traded between New Orleans and Mobile and Cuba, and Spanish was necessary to us; and Senhor Camacho here I often met at the Havana and Santiago de Cuba. But then he was in an honest craft, and had nothing to do with slaving.”

“Very well. I do not like to have anything to do with people in the slave-trade, but this is a case of necessity; so, as you understand his lingo, will you find out what he wants, and we will get through with the business as soon as may be.”

Camacho and Pentlea had a long conversation, and the latter took down a list of the articles which the slavers required; and as we could spare them without difficulty, orders were at once given for the hold to be opened and to get them on deck.

I went down with Jack Adams to assist in slinging some of the casks and bales that had to come up; and when he was down below, he said to me, so as not to be overheard by anybody,—

“I knows as how it ain’t my place to remark on an officer, but that Jack Spaniard talking to the mate ain’t after no good; and though I can’t manage to parleyvoo in Spanish, I haven’t been in the West Indies and South America for nothing, and I can manage to get the bearings of a word now and again, and I’m sartain sure that all that palaver that those two has been having was not all about these here stores. As far as I could fix it, he was asking how this craft of ours sails, and what ports we were bound for. In course these questions were no more than one friend might ask another; but there were no need for the Spaniard to write ’em down as he did, and I’m out of my reckonings altogether if Mr. Pentlea and the Spaniard don’t know more of each other than they says.”

“What do you suppose they want? Do you think the slavers will attack us? Why, our carronades would beat them off easy.”

“No; Caillaud here won’t allow no piracy near his head-quarters. He slaves surely, but in all other matters he is an honest gentleman. But, bless you, they schooners carries a long eighteen or maybe a thirty-two pounder, and they could keep to windward out of range of our guns, and just do what they like. I don’t suppose they want to put their necks in a noose; but trouble they may give us, and it’s my opinion they means to do it.”

“What can we do?”

“Why, nothing much; but just you tell your father to keep his weather eye lifting, and not trust Mr. Pentlea too much.”

“Very well; I will do so.”

We soon had the required stores ready, and Camacho returned with a boat to take them away, and with the promised doubloons he paid the prices asked without any bargaining. At the same time messages came from the shore which decided my father not to have any trade at Cape Mount; and he gave orders to prepare to get under way to proceed to Cape Palmas. There he intended to ship the Kruboys who are always taken on board ships trading on the West Coast of Africa, to work the surf-boats and do all work which would expose the white men of the crew to the sun and night-dews, and thus risk their health and lives.

We hove short by sunset, and set the topsails. The land-breeze coming off soon after midnight, we weighed and steered eastward, keeping sufficiently far off the shore to avoid the dangers. When the sun rose we could see the tree-clad line of coast with the surf beating on it, diversified by the native villages and the more pretentious towns of the Liberian Republic. The land-breeze had now died away, and we were drifting along with the east-going current; but soon after ten o’clock the sea-breeze began to set in, and we were soon running along about seven knots, with all plain sail and the starboard fore-topmast studding-sail set.

When the sail was made and trimmed, my father called me to come under the monkey-poop for my

ON THE COAST OF LIBERIA.

Page 44.

daily lesson in navigation; and I was able to tell him what Jack Adams had said to me the day before about Mr. Pentlea and Camacho. At first he laughed, and said that Jack Adams was a suspicious old sea-dog; but just as he was saying this, Black Bill the cook came aft, under pretext of speaking to my father about killing a pig, but when he saw that there was no one within hearing distance he said,—

“Please, Capen Baldwin, me tink that Massa Pentlea bad man for true. What time me lib slave-ship, dat Camacho he be one ossifer, and he be bery bad; and now when me catch see him and Massa Pentlea make palaver, me tink one, two times, and den me remember dat Massa Pentlea he lib for come aboard slave-ship plenty time what time we lib in river where me bought.”

“Nonsense, man,” said my father; “you are dreaming. Do you mean Mr. Pentlea was a slaver?”

“Me no sabey for true; but when we lib Bristol, and Massa Pentlea come aboard, me tink me see dat man before; but though me tink plenty much no catch sabey where me see him, and so me no peak; but now me remember he plenty time come on board slaver.”

“Very well. Bill. Have you told any one about this?”

“No, sah; me tink only good tell capen. ’Spose tell all men, dey make plenty palaver; and quick one time Massa Pentlea catch sabey me sabey him.”

“That’s right. Bill; don’t you tell any one.—And, Frank, mind not a word to any one about this, not even to Willie, for I will tell him myself.—Yes, Bill, you can kill the pig. I daresay we shall see some Bristol craft to-day, and they will be glad of a fresh bit of English pork.”

Bill went away, and soon we heard the screams of the pig having its throat cut; and my father told me that my lesson for the day was over, and that I was to tell Mr. Pentlea that he wanted him. I ran and did as I was told; and then, having put away my books, I climbed up to the fore-topmast cross-trees to look at the land as we were running past it, and at the fishing-canoes and small country sailing-boats, many of which were quite close to us. The native villages with their round thatched huts, and the people on the strip of yellow beach, I could easily make out through my telescope; and after a little I observed the masts and yards of some vessels at anchor, and hailed Willie, who was in charge of the deck, to tell him.

When we drew near, we made out that they were Bristol traders like ourselves. We took in the topmast studding-sail and royals, and hauling up the courses, hove-to just to windward of the first of them. Soon her captain was on board, and glad to get a budget of letters and a leg of the pig Black Bill had killed; and then, when he had in return told my father the news of the coast, we filled again and stood on to the next, and for the whole afternoon we were passing by and communicating with Bristol traders, at that time entirely dependent for news of the world on the arrival of one of their own number from Europe, except when occasionally one of the squadron engaged in the suppression of the slave-trade had later news than they themselves.

To me it was intensely interesting to see all the brigs, barques, and ships lying at anchor, with their awnings spread, and the boats belonging to them manned by Kruboys, naked, except for a scanty cloth round their waists, and to hear them chattering in their Kru English, which every one speaks to them, and which, though it may not conform to the rules of Lindley Murray, has the advantage of being expressive, forcible, and easy of comprehension.

At last we had nearly finished our mail-distributing for the day, when we saw, about four miles ahead of us, a large ship flying a signal for us to speak with her.

We hove-to about a quarter of a mile to windward, and her boat came alongside of us just before we drifted down abreast; and in her there was no white man, but only Kruboys. One of them, scrambling up the side, came to my father and said,—

“Please, sah, bring book from capen ob Empress. All white man lib for be sick, and two, tree lib for die. No catch medicine plenty soon, all man die.”

My father tore open the letter, which was written by the master of the ship Empress of Liverpool, and which said that all the white men on board were down with fever, and that only the day before two had died, and he begged for some medicine to be sent, so that those who survived might have a chance for their lives.

My father gave the word to fill and reach up close to the Empress, and shortening sail, anchored a short distance to windward of her. Then having selected such medicines as might be useful, he went on board the Empress to see what he could do for the fever-stricken crew.

He came back in an hour and said he had found that the captain and officers were new to the coast, and had neglected many precautions, but that, as there were enough Krumen on board to work the ship properly, he had advised the captain to get under way and beat slowly to windward, which would soon blow the fever out of the ship. The bark and quinine he had been able to leave with them would, he had no doubt, set most of her English crew on their feet again.

As soon as he came on board he gave orders to weigh and make sail; and then leaving Mr. Pentlea in charge of the deck, he told Willie and myself to come into the cabin, as he wished to speak with us about what he had seen on board the Empress.

As soon as we were in the cabin he said, “My boys, I wish now at once, while it is fresh in my mind, to tell you of the state of that ship, and how it could have been avoided. Her captain is a smart young fellow, but he has never been on this coast before, and he thought that he could manage here as he had done in other parts of the world, and has not followed out the rules laid down for him by his owners. When his men got down and dispirited from the climate and fever, he thought he would pull them up by giving them more rum than the usual allowance, and the consequences have been fatal.”

Having said this, our father gave us a regular lecture on keeping the ship and men clean, avoiding chills and night-dews, and opened out to us all the knowledge he had gained during an experience of the West Coast of Africa of over thirty years. When he had finished this he said: “I have other and perhaps more immediately important matters to speak to you about. Frank knows something of it, for he told me what Jack Adams said to him on the subject, and was also here when Black Bill told me that he had seen the mate on board the ship in which he was taken from his native country. I am afraid that we shall have to watch Mr. Pentlea very carefully; for though I did not think much of what Jack Adams said, and even if Black Bill had seen him on board the slaver it might have happened without much loss of character to him—for I am sorry to say many of our traders do not mind having dealings with the Spaniards and Portuguese who form the crews of most of the slavers—still I am now afraid that he has actually been a slaver himself. For the captain of the Empress, who recognized him through his glass, said that the reason he left Liverpool and did not get a ship there was that though he had done very well in the British Queen, there were stories afloat about him with regard to his having been a regular slaver before he sailed in her; indeed, even whilst he was in her he was supposed to have been in communication with some of his old companions, and to have furnished them with information as to the whereabouts of British men-of-war, and otherwise to have made himself useful to them. Now I cannot say that there is any truth in this, but as we shall visit some very little frequented places where usually the only vessels seen are slavers, he may play us some trick with them, and we must watch him very closely. I can’t get rid of him now—and even if I could, I have no one to take his place—so you must both help me to watch him carefully. Mind, you must neither of you say a word of this to any one—not even to Jack Adams or Black Bill.”

“All right, father,” we both answered at once; and then saying good-night, we went off to our berths to turn in for the night.

CHAPTER IV.
ROBBERY AND DESERTION.

Breezes and current both favouring us, we soon arrived off Cape Palmas, where we were to ship our Kruboys. The advent of the brig flying my father’s flag (black with a red diamond in the middle) was the signal for the whole sea to be covered with Kru canoes paddling off in the hopes that their occupants might be engaged on board. How the little narrow craft managed to come across the surf which we saw rolling in on the beach was a wonder to me. It was curious to see the way in which the black fellows managed their tiny canoes. If in their struggle to get alongside these were capsized, they managed instantly to right them and empty the water out of them; and all the time they kept on crying out that they were the right men, and those who had already managed to clamber on board were “bad mans, tiefs, and niggers,”—the last term being the most opprobrious of all the epithets comprised in their vocabulary.

At first they overran the whole upper deck, shouting and bawling and finding out their old friends among the crew, and begging odds and ends from Black Bill in the galley. On my father recognizing one of the men who had sailed with him before, he called to him and asked where his old head-man Frying Pan was.

“Frying Pan, sah, lib for make country; yam time, sah.”

“What for he go country when Petrel come?”

“Oh, he no sabey Petrel lib for come; but one, two hour he catch.”

“Yes, one, two hour, and all men make plenty bobbery.”

“Me sabey you no like bobbery plenty much. S’pose you make sure Frying Pan head-man one time, me make bobbery plenty quiet.”

“What, you. Bottle of Beer! they won’t listen to you.”

“Plenty true, sah, Bottle of Beer picaninny no sabey stop bobbery; but Frying Pan brother, Flying Jib, him lib and be head-man for true: he make palaver plenty strong—bobbery stop one time.”

“Very well; call Flying Jib. Where is he?”

“He lib for canoe,” answered Bottle of Beer; and jumping overboard, he swam to a canoe in which a tall Kruman was sitting, being paddled by two others.

As soon as Bottle of Beer told this man, who was Flying Jib, that he was wanted, he put his canoe alongside, and springing into the main chains, clambered over the nettings, and coming to where my father was standing, pulled off a very dilapidated tall hat, which was his only article of clothing besides a handkerchief round his waist, and said,—

“Marnin, capen; what you wish?”

“Why your brother no lib for come? You sabey I no like bobbery in my ship. Plenty boy make bobbery.”

“Frying Pan lib for him small country, catch yam. One time see capen flag, me send boy, run tell him Petrel libs.”

“All right; now tell those fellows to be quiet. Clear out all but your own and Frying Pan’s men.”

“All right, sah,” said Flying Jib; and with Bottle of Beer and some other men whom he called to him, they drove the majority of the Kruboys overboard, where they soon regained their canoes and paddled after the brig until she came to an anchor.

Flying Jib’s boys now furled sails, squared yards, and coiled down ropes; and just as they were finished Frying Pan himself came off. He had dressed himself somewhat for his appearance on board the Petrel, and had on a tall hat ornamented with peacock’s feathers, a sailor’s shirt and trousers, and round his neck a brass chain, from which hung a plate on which was engraved, “Frying Pan, Captain Baldwin’s head Kruman,” and of which he seemed very proud.

“How now, Frying Pan?” said my father; “why you no be here one time when ship come?”

“Sorry, sah, but lib for small country; now catch tree wive, and he make plant yam.”

“All right now; make your boys fall in and I will see whom we will take.”

“Bery good; see two surf-boat lib. He want ten men for each and one bosun—dat be two tens and two bosuns; now for work hold ten men—dat be tree ten; and want tree cook.”

“Yes, I want thirty men, and you can have two bosuns; but you must make the men cook for themselves.”

“Bery good.—Here, Fore-topsl, you catch ten men; Billy Barlow, you catch ten; and me catch ten myself.”

Soon Frying Pan, with his two “bosuns,” had the thirty men required ranged on the quarter-deck; and my father told me to write all their names down after he had inspected them and seen that none of them were suffering from guinea-worm or any other illness.

My list of names, as might be expected from those we have already heard, was a curious one. Among them there were Fore-topsail and Billy Barlow, the two “bosuns” as they were called, who were to be coxswains of the surf-boats, our old acquaintance Bottle of Beer, Two Glass, Billy Duff, Liverpool Jack, Bristol Tom, Sunday, Mexican Joe, and Little Billy, the last being over six feet in height. As soon as they were entered they turned to work at once; and Flying Jib, having received a “dash” or present and a glass of grog, left the ship.

The two surf-boats were got out and hoisted up to davits which were shipped for them. On either side of the waist and awning ridge ropes were rove and awnings spread, and the Petrel assumed her regular African appearance, derricks being got up over the fore and main hatches for getting cargo in and out, while Frying Pan’s own canoe was lashed under the main-chains.

The Kruboys had a cooking place made for them out of a large shallow box full of sand, in which they could light a fire to boil their rations of rice, which formed their principal food, and which was supplemented by biscuits and small quantities of salt fish and salt pork which had been shipped specially for their use.

As soon as all had shaken down and the Kruboys had been told off into their watches, we got under way again for Whydah, which was the next port we were to call at, and where we arrived without any incident worthy of notice.

The English portion of the crew were now principally employed in overhauling sails and other light and easy work. The only work connected with sailing the ship which now fell to their lot was taking the weather helm and heaving the lead, and in this latter duty the leadsman was assisted by a Kruman, who hauled in the lead for him after it had been hove.

Off Whydah we found four or five ships at anchor, and one of the brigs of the West African squadron. Soon after we anchored, my father went on shore in one of the surf-boats, steered by Fore-topsail, to see the agent in charge of the factory with which he was in the habit of doing business, while Willie and I were told to prepare the customs for the King of Dahomey, and the presents for the caboceers in charge of the beach at Whydah.

My father had not left the ship above half an hour before Mr. Pentlea ordered the other surf-boat to be manned, saying that he was going on shore too. This astonished Willie very much, as he knew that our father was very particular that the chief officer should not be on shore at the same time as himself; and he ventured to say as much to Mr. Pentlea, who told him that it was all right, and that he had something to do on shore for which he had received the captain’s permission.

Of course Willie could say nothing, and came back to me in the trade-room, where we had several bales open, selecting different kinds of cloth for the king and caboceers; and Jack Adams, who was busy with us, said,—

“I can’t fathom this nohow. I know Captain Baldwin would never give leave for the mate to be ashore, especially in a place like Whydah, when he is out of the ship himself.”

“Well, Jack,” said Willie, “what can I do? While the captain is out of the ship I must obey Mr. Pentlea’s orders.”

“That’s true; but you might send a note to the captain, sir.”

“Certainly, I can do that.”

Willie at once went to the cabin with the intention of writing a letter to our father; but Mr. Pentlea, seeing him going in, said, “What are you going into the cabin for? go and attend to your work;” and a few minutes afterwards he sent Willie and myself aloft to the fore and main topmast cross-trees to examine, as he said, the eyes of the topmast rigging.

While we were still aloft he got into the surf-boat, into which he had four bales of valuable cloth put, and shoved off; and from aloft both Willie and I could see that the boat was making for quite a different part of the beach from that where the factory to which our father had gone was situated.

As soon as he had left we both came down from aloft and went to the cabin, which we found locked. We sent for Warspite the steward, who said that on coming into the cabin to ask if Mr. Pentlea required anything before going on shore, he was told to go forward and mind his own business.

Willie and I were very much puzzled what to do, for evidently Mr. Pentlea had taken the key of the cabin with him, and wherever he was going he certainly was not going to see our father. In our dilemma, we called Jack Adams and Sam Peters to advise with us, and after some consideration we determined that I should go over the stern in a bowline, and through the stern-posts take a survey of the cabin. I could see, when I looked in, that all the doors of the berths were fastened, but that evidently the lockers round the stern had been overhauled and ransacked.

I tried to get in through a stern-port, but found that I was too big to manage it, and called to Willie to have me hauled up again; and when I was on the poop, I reported the results of my examination. We now thought that the best thing to do would be to break open the cabin door; and Sentall the carpenter bringing his tools, we soon effected an entrance, and found a scene of confusion which far surpassed what I had expected from my glimpse through the port.

All the drawers and lockers had been opened, and their contents were strown in all directions, and a chest in which my father kept his money and the ship’s papers had been emptied of its contents.

“How can I send to my father?” said Willie. “The blackguard has robbed us, and with both surf-boats away we cannot send ashore.”

“Surely, sir,” said Sam Peters, “you have Frying Pan’s canoe; he can take a piece of paper ashore in that.”

“Certainly, I had not thought of it; pass the word for Frying Pan.”

Frying Pan soon came, and seeing the state of the cabin, said,—

“Dat mate be bad tief man; me always tink him bad.”

“That may be, Frying Pan,” answered Willie; “but now I want you take book one time to captain.”

Frying Pan ran up on deck at once, and by the time Willie had written the letter (or book as the Krumen called it) his canoe was in the water, and with Bottle of Beer as his companion, he was ready to start to tell our father of the desertion of Simon and his stealing the contents of his chest.

We had caused a watch to be kept on Pentlea from the mast-heads, and the sharp eyes of the Kruboys who were intrusted with this duty made out that on landing he went straight up to a large factory flying the Portuguese flag, and that the surf-boat was hauled up and there were no signs of her coming off again.

As soon as Frying Pan had started we began to try to put things in order, and soon found that Pentlea had been malicious as well as a thief, for the ship’s chronometer and barometer were both broken; and we found that Camacho’s doubloons, as well as a considerable sum in English gold which my father had in the chest, had been taken.

“I suppose we shall be able to catch him,” I said.

“No, sir,” said Sam Peters; “that factory he has gone to is a regular slaving-shop, and he will be away to Lagos or Porto Novo before the captain can get the caboceers to look for him.”

“Well, what must we do, Willie?” I said.

“We can do nothing except get things as straight as we can, and then go on with what we were doing before the blackguard bolted. Look here; he has even broken open my desk and stolen my watch and what little money I had locked up!”

“He certainly made the most of his time; he can’t have had more than ten minutes to himself here.”

Warspite was told to get order restored in the cabin; and Willie and I returned to the trade-room, where we found that the four bales we had seen passed into the boat were composed of very costly silks which were intended specially for presents to big chiefs, and which had been brought there for us to select presents for the King of Dahomey and his caboceers.

Jack Adams and Sam Peters came down to us, and they said they thought we should have stopped Pentlea from leaving the ship. “But then,” they said, “he gave his orders, and no one could disobey him.”

“It’s no use crying over spilt milk,” said my brother. “I could not have gone against the mate’s orders, and none of us could know what he was doing in the cabin.”

While we were discussing the flight of Pentlea and sorting the cloths according to a list left for us by my father, Warspite came running into the trade-room, bringing with him a couple of small manuscript books which he said he had found in Pentlea’s berth, and which contained a number of entries about anchorages in the bights and oil rivers, and also about the Gaboon and Congo, with notes about the numbers of slaves shipped at different places.

“Why, the man is a regular slaver! See in this book there are names of ships and their captains. Why, there are all the vessels of the squadron—which are steamers, and which can sail best off and on a wind; and, hallo! here is a full description of the Petrel and a list of the places we are going to.”

I looked over Willie’s shoulder as he turned the leaves of the books over, and saw that evidently these were memoranda of what Pentlea had considered the capabilities of our brig, and among them he had noted that she might easily carry two hundred and fifty slaves.

“What! does he intend to take her?” I said.

“Never mind,” said Sam Peters, “forewarned is forearmed; and I don’t think that any Jack Spaniards of the lot will be able to take a Bristol brig manned by Bristol men.”

“Just you two keep this quiet,” said Willie to Peters and Adams; “and you, Warspite, if you say a word about it you’ll be sent to work with the Kruboys.”

Just as he said this the look-out men hailed that the captain was coming off, and we were very glad to think that he would soon be among us and able to judge for himself what should be done.

CHAPTER V.
A RUN ASHORE.

As soon as my father came on board he said, “Why, what is all this? where is Pentlea gone, and what does your letter mean?”

We soon told him of how Simon Pentlea had left, and the condition in which we had found the cabin when we broke into it. On looking round, he said that matters might have been much worse; for though the doubloons Camacho had given for the stores and some fifty pounds in English money had been stolen, the mate had not found out the place where he kept his greatest store of coin, nor yet where the corals and valuable beads worth five hundred pounds were kept. Altogether with the cloth and the money that had been taken the loss would amount to two hundred pounds. But the breaking of the chronometer and barometer was a serious matter, as he did not see how they could be replaced. As night was now coming on, we could not lodge a complaint with the caboceer of the beach before morning; and it was much to be feared Pentlea would have cleared out before then. As for obtaining any satisfaction from his slave-dealing friends, that was not to be expected at all.

As it was there was nothing to do but to put the cabin straight and wait for the morning. My father then went on shore again, and this time took me with him, as he said I could be useful to him in writing down the goods he was selling and the produce he was to receive for them.

I was delighted with the idea of a run ashore, and dressed myself in clean white clothes, and was going into the boat, when Fore-topsail, who was boatswain of the one we were going to land in, said, “Why, massa, s’pose water come in boat where white kit be.” I ran down again for my waterproof, which I was going to put on, but I was stopped by Willie, who said I should only put it over my shoulders, so that if the boat should capsize I should be clear of it at once.

We shoved off from the ship, the Kruboys sitting at the sides of the boat looking forward, and as they dashed their paddles into the water, striking up a wild song to which they kept time, Fore-topsail stood up aft and steered with an oar, giving them occasional bits of solo—I was going to say melody, but to an Englishman the vocalism of these fellows did not possess melody.

The boat creaked with the strain of the paddling, and seemed to fly over the glassy surface of the swell which was rolling in toward the beach, and I thought that in a minute or two more we should be on shore. Suddenly Fore-topsail ordered the men to be quiet, and my father said, “Now, my lad, sit as quiet as possible, and if the boat does capsize, mind the first thing you have to do is to get clear of her, and then trust yourself to the boys, and they will bring you safe on shore.”

This gave me the first real idea that I had had that crossing a surf was really dangerous. Though I had been told all sorts of yarns about boats capsizing and accidents in the surf, and had hoped, in the way that boys always do hope for adventures, that I might see something of the kind and be the hero of one, yet I had not thought that it was to come so soon. When I saw the huge rollers in front of us, and heard the roar of the surf as it dashed on the beach, I began then to wish that some one else might be the hero of a capsize instead of myself.

I sat quiet, as my father told me, and watched Fore-topsail, who carefully scanned the rollers coming in mountains high, and seeming as if they would swallow up our boat altogether. The men paddled gently along, and then suddenly began to back at a word from Fore-topsail, and when we were lifted up on the top of a great billow, they held their paddles out of the water, ready to paddle like mad at the right moment.

Before us was a great gulf, and we seemed to slide back on the shoulder of the wave that fell down in front of us with a surge and a crash. The men dashed their paddles into the water, and we were hurried along at railway speed, with foaming water flying all around us, and Fore-topsail straining at his oar to keep us straight. Little by little the flying water left us astern, and another huge billow rose threatening behind. We again backed to let it pass us before it began to curl over before breaking. In this we were successful, and again came a plunge and a dash and a hurrying along like a whirlwind. I entirely lost all idea of fear. The motion of boat and water, and the voices of the men urging each other to strain their muscles to the utmost, were most exhilarating. I could have wished that the lines of breakers through which we had to pass had been five times as numerous as they were, and I was sorry when at last we touched ground.

The moment the bow of the boat touched the beach the Kruboys, throwing their paddles overboard, jumped into the water, and seizing hold of the gunwale, ran us up high and dry on the beach out of the reach of the waves.

My father, who had watched me carefully during our passage through the breakers, said, “You’ll do, my boy. What do you think of an African beach now?”

“Why, father, it is lovely. I don’t know anything more delightful than flying in on the back of a wave as we did.”

“Yes, it’s delightful, certainly, but it’s dangerous. But now we must make haste to see if we can find anything of that fellow Pentlea.—You, Fore-topsail, tell four men to carry those things,” pointing to some packages of samples, “to Mr. Macarthy’s factory; and send two men to Billy Barlow and tell him to let his men bring his boat along the beach to where yours is, and come himself to me at the factory.”

The beach at Whydah was a curious sight to me. There were boats belonging to the different ships in the roads loading and discharging cargo; pigs and turkey-buzzards revelling in filth and garbage of all descriptions; gangs of slaves working under the orders of the officials of the king; Dahoman soldiers with flint-lock muskets, and men, black and white, mounted on little spirited ponies; the large factories of the European traders with their stockaded yards, those of the slave-dealers being distinguished by large barracoons attached to them; and the native town, which was a regular jumble of huts of all sorts and kinds, the houses of the caboceers and other great men standing up among them like line-of-battle ships among a lot of cock-boats. All made a picture very different from anything I had ever seen or dreamed of.

We soon reached Mr. Macarthy’s factory, and went up a flight of stairs into a wide veranda, where we found him dressed in a cool white suit, and employed in giving orders to some of his clerks, whom he dismissed as soon as he saw us.

“Good morning, Captain Baldwin; is this one of your sons?”

My father answered his salutation, and then asked him if he had any news of Pentlea.

“Not yet,” he said. “I have sent men to try to find out if they could get any news of him up at Souza’s factory, where he has gone; but they are a regular set of bad ones there, and would say anything. Why, not long ago they attacked my factory, and I had some trouble in beating them off; the caboceers have condemned them to pay me five puncheons of palm-oil, but I shall never get any of it. I have sent to the caboceers, and one will come here in the course of the day. Have you reported the case to the man-of-war?”

“Why no; what can they do?”

“Certainly they can’t land men to hunt for the thief; but the captain and some of his officers might perhaps be present at the palaver between you and the caboceer. It would make them promise more and ask less, though whether they will do any more I can’t say.”

“Very well; I will write a letter and send it off. What is the name of the captain and his ship?”

“She’s the Rover, and her captain’s name is Howard.”

“Very well; let me have paper, pen, and ink, and I will write at once, and Frank here shall take it off.”

“Why not go yourself?”

“I don’t want to lose a chance, and perhaps the caboceer may come while I am away.”

“Very good; only mind to apologize for not coming in person.”

“Certainly I will, and say the reason.”

The letter was soon finished, and Fore-topsail was ordered to take me off with it to H.M. brig Rover, sixteen guns.

I found going off against a surf a very different matter from landing through one, and though it is much safer, it is a far harder piece of work. There was none of the pleasurable sensation of flying along on the back of a wave that I had enjoyed so much in going ashore.

We got through without anything worse occurring than shipping a little water, and we were soon alongside of the Rover.

A sentry at the gangway hailed to know what I wanted, and when I answered that I had a letter for the captain, he told me to be sharp and come up with it, while a couple of man-ropes were paid down the side for my use. Seizing hold of them I ran up the side, and not forgetting, as I had been told, to touch my cap, I came on the quarter-deck.

I was astonished to see the cleanliness and neatness of everything, but had not much time to indulge my wonder, for a midshipman came to me and asked me what I wanted. I answered that I had brought a letter for the captain.

“Give it to me then,” he said, and taking it from me, and going up to an officer, who was walking on the starboard side of the quarter-deck, he touched his cap and gave it to him.

I thought at first that this was the captain; but he went down the after-ladder with it, and returned immediately, closely followed by Captain Howard, who was saluted by every one as he came on deck.

“Here, youngster,” Captain Howard called to me, “you come from the Petrel? Why didn’t your captain come on board himself?”

“Please, sir,” I answered, “I think my father wanted to find out all he could.”

“Oh, you’re the captain’s son, are you? Well, can you tell me what you know about this deserter—what’s his name—Pentlea?”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Hammond the mate broke his leg, and Mr. Pentlea was shipped the evening before we sailed; and we none of us liked him, and he talks Spanish.”

“Talks Spanish, does he? How do you know that?”

“Why, sir, a Spaniard called Camacho came on board from a slaver at Cape Mount, and he knew him and spoke to him.”

“Indeed; and now he has stolen money and some bales of goods and gone to Souza’s factory. Very well.—Quartermaster, tell the first lieutenant I want him.”

The first lieutenant came at once, and Captain Howard said, “Here, Stannard, there’s that fellow Camacho up at Cape Mount, and we’re looking for him down here.—What craft had he, youngster?”

“There were two schooners, sir—the Santa Maria and Santiago!”

“Two! And what did you have to do with them?”

“They made us sell them some stores, sir.”