Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African SlaverCanot, Theodore
History
Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African Slaver
Canot, Theodore
Slave trade
praying, washing, eating, sleeping, slave-dealing, and fanning his
dropsical feet, the life of the Ali-Mami passed monotonously enough
even for an oriental prince; but I doubt not, the same childish
routine is still religiously pursued, unless it has pleased Allah to
summon the faithful prince to the paradise of "true believers." I
could never make him understand how a ship might be built large enough
to hold provisions for a six months' voyage; and, as to the _sea_, "it
was a mystery that none but God and a white man could solve!"
As I was to breakfast on the day of my arrival at the dwelling of
Ahmah-de-Bellah's mother, after my presentation to the prince her
husband, I urged the footsteps of my companion with no little
impatience as soon as I got out of the royal hearing. My fast had been
rather longer than comfortable, even in obedience to royal etiquette.
However, we were soon within the court-yard of her sable ladyship, who,
though a dame of fifty at least, persisted in hiding her charms of face
and bosom beneath a capacious cloth. Nevertheless, she welcomed me
quite tenderly. She called me "Ahmah-de-Bellah-Theodoree,"--and, with
her own hands, mixed the dainties on which we were to breakfast while
cosily squatted on the mats of her verandah. Our food was simple enough
for the most dyspeptic homoeopathist. Milk and rice were alternated
with bonney-clabber and honey, seasoned by frequent words of hospitable
encouragement. The frugal repast was washed down by calabashes of cool
water, which were handed round by naked damsels, whose beautiful limbs
might have served as models for an artist.
When the meal was finished, I hoped that the day's ceremonial was
over, but, to my dismay, I discovered that the most formal portion of
my reception was yet to come.
"We will now hasten," said Ahmah-de-Bellah, as I _salaamed_ his mamma,
"to the palaver-ground, where I am sure our chiefs are, by this time,
impatient to see you." Had I been a feeble instead of a robust
campaigner, I would not have resisted the intimation, or desired a
postponement of the "palaver;" so I "took my brother's" arm, and,
followed by my _cortege_, proceeded to the interview that was to take
place beyond the walls, in an exquisite grove of cotton-wood and
tamarind-trees, appropriated to this sort of town-meeting. Here I
found a vast assemblage of burghers; and in their midst, squatted on
sheepskins, was a select ring of _patres conscripti_, presided by
Sulimani-Ali, son of the king, and brother of my companion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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