Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African Slaver — John Shaqi
Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African SlaverCanot, Theodore
History
Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African Slaver
Canot, Theodore
Slave trade
Soldiers' wives are seldom rich, and my mother was no exception to the
rule. She was left in very moderate circumstances, with six children
to support; but the widow of an old campaigner, who had partaken the
sufferings of many a long and dreary march with her husband, was
neither disheartened by the calamity, nor at a loss for thrifty
expedients to educate her younger offspring. Accordingly, I was kept
at school, studying geography, arithmetic, history and the languages,
until near twelve years old, when it was thought time for me to choose
a profession. At school, and in my leisure hours, I had always been a
greedy devourer of books of travel, or historical narratives full of
stirring incidents, so that when I avowed my preference for a
sea-faring life, no one was surprised. Indeed, my fancy was rather
applauded, as two of my mother's brothers had served in the Neapolitan
navy, under Murat. Proper inquiries were quickly made at Leghorn; and,
in a few weeks, I found myself on the _mole_ of that noble seaport,
comfortably equipped, with a liberal outfit, ready to embark, as an
apprentice, upon the American ship Galatea, of Boston.
It was in the year 1819, that I first saluted the element upon which
it has been my destiny to pass so much of my life. The reader will
readily imagine the discomforts to which I was subjected on this
voyage. Born and bred in the interior of Italy, I had only the most
romantic ideas of the sea. My opinions had been formed from the lives
of men in loftier rank and under more interesting circumstances. My
career was necessarily one of great hardship; and, to add to my
misfortunes, I had neither companion nor language to vent my grief and
demand sympathy. For the first three months, I was the butt of every
joker in the ship. I was the scape-goat of every accident and of every
one's sins or carelessness. As I lived in the cabin, each plate,
glass, or utensil that fell to leeward in a gale, was charged to my
negligence. Indeed, no one seemed to compassionate my lot save a fat,
lubberly negro cook, whom I could not endure. He was the _first_
African my eye ever fell on, and I must confess that he was the only
friend I possessed during my early adventures.
Besides the officers of the Galatea, there was a clerk on board, whom
the captain directed to teach me English, so that, by the time we
reached Sumatra, I was able to stand up for my rights, and plead my
cause. As we could not obtain a cargo of pepper on the island, we
proceeded to Bengal; and, on our arrival at Calcutta, the captain, who
was also supercargo, took apartments on shore, where the clerk and
myself were allowed to follow him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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