Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African SlaverCanot, Theodore
History
Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African Slaver
Canot, Theodore
Slave trade
This painful scrutiny took place before the surgeon, whose looks and
expressions strongly denoted his cordial sympathy with my situation.
"Yes," said Captain * * * *, "it is a pity for a sailor who fights as
bravely as you have done, in defence of what he considers his
property, to be condemned for a combination of mistakes and
forgetfulness. However, let us not hasten matters; you are hungry and
want rest, and, though we are navy-men, and on the coast of Africa, we
are not savages." I was then directed to remain where I was till
further orders, while my servant came below with an abundant supply of
provisions. The captain went on deck, but the doctor remained.
Presently, I saw the surgeon and the commander's steward busy over a
basket of biscuits, meat and bottles, to the handle of which a cord,
several yards in length, was carefully knotted. After this was
arranged, the doctor called for a lamp, and unrolling a chart, asked
whether I knew the position of the vessel. I replied affirmatively,
and, at his request, measured the distance, and noted the course to
the nearest land, which was Cape Verga, about thirty-seven miles off.
"Now, Don Teodore, if I were in your place, with the prospect of a
noose and tight-rope dancing before me, I have not the slightest
hesitation in saying that I would make an attempt to know what Cape
Verga is made of before twenty-four hours were over my head! And see,
my good fellow, how Providence, accident, or fortune favors you! First
of all, your own boat _happens_ to be towing astern beneath these very
cabin windows; secondly, a basket of provisions, water and brandy,
stands packed on the transom, almost ready to slip into the boat by
itself; next, your boy is in the neighborhood to help you with the
skiff; and, finally, it is pitch dark, perfectly calm, and there isn't
a sentry to be seen aft the cabin door. Now, good night, my clever
fighter, and let me never have the happiness of seeing your face
again!"
As he said this, he rose, shaking my hand with the hearty grasp of a
sailor, and, as he passed my servant, slipped something into his
pocket, which proved to be a couple of sovereigns. Meanwhile, the
steward appeared with blankets, which he spread on the locker; and,
blowing out the lamp, went on deck with a "good night."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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