Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African SlaverCanot, Theodore
History
Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African Slaver
Canot, Theodore
Slave trade
Timbo lies on a rolling plain. North of it, a lofty mountain range
rises at the distance of ten or fifteen miles, and sweeps eastwardly
to the horizon. The landscape, which declines from these slopes to the
south, is in many places bare; yet fields of plentiful cultivation,
groves of cotton-wood, tamarind and oak, thickets of shrubbery and
frequent villages, stud its surface, and impart an air of rural
comfort to the picturesque scene.
I soon proposed a gallop with my African kindred over the
neighborhood; and, one fine morning, after a plentiful breakfast of
stewed fowls, boiled to rags with rice, and seasoned with delicious
"palavra sauce," we cantered off to the distant villages. As we
approached the first brook, but before the fringe of screening bushes
was passed, our cavalcade drew rein abruptly, while Ahmah-de-Bellah
cried out: "Strangers are coming!" A few moments after, as we slowly
crossed the stream, I noticed several women crouched in the underwood,
having fled from the bath. This warning is universally given, and
enforced by law, to guard the modesty of the gentler sex.
In half an hour we reached the first suburban village; but fame had
preceded us with my character, and as the settlement was cultivated
either by serfs or negroes liable to be made so, we found the houses
bare. The poor wretches had learned, on the day of my reception, that
the principal object of my journey was to obtain slaves, and, of
course, they imagined that the only object of my foray in their
neighborhood, was to seize the gang and bear it abroad in bondage.
Accordingly, we tarried only a few minutes in Findo, and dashed off to
Furo; but here, too, the blacks had been panic struck, and escaped so
hurriedly that they left their pots of rice, vegetables, and meat
boiling in their sheds. Furo was absolutely stripped of inhabitants;
the veteran chief of the village did not even remain to do the honors
for his affrighted brethren. Ahmah-de-Bellah laughed heartily at the
terror I inspired; but I confess I could not help feeling sadly
mortified when I found my presence shunned as a pestilence.
The native villages through which I passed on this excursion
manifested the great comfort in which these Africans live throughout
their prolific land, when unassailed by the desolating wars that are
kept up for slave-trade. It was the height of the dry season, when
every thing was parched by the sun, yet I could trace the outlines of
fine plantations, gardens, and rice-fields. Every where I found
abundance of peppers, onions, garlic, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, and
cassava; while tasteful fences were garlanded with immense vines and
flowers. Fowls, goats, sheep, and oxen, stalked about in innumerable
flocks, and from every domicil depended a paper, inscribed with a
charm from the Koran to keep off thieves and witches.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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