Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African SlaverCanot, Theodore
History
Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African Slaver
Canot, Theodore
Slave trade
Just at that moment a faint call was heard from the sea, and the
woolly skull perceived in time for rescue.
This adventure elevated not only "little Theodore," but our "culinary
artist" in the good opinion of the mess. Every Saturday night my
African friend was allowed to share the cheer of the forecastle, while
our captain presented him with a certificate of his meritorious deed,
and made the paper more palatable by the promise of a liberal bounty
in current coin at the end of the voyage.
I now began to feel at ease, and acquire a genuine fondness for sea
life. My aptitude for languages not only familiarized me with English,
but enabled me soon to begin the scientific study of navigation, in
which, I am glad to say, that Captain Solomon Towne was always pleased
to aid my industrious efforts.
We touched at ST. HELENA for supplies, but as Napoleon was still
alive, a British frigate met us within five miles of that rock-bound
coast, and after furnishing a scant supply of water, bade us take our
way homeward.
I remember very well that it was a fine night in July, 1820, when we
touched the wharf at Boston, Massachusetts. Captain Towne's family
resided in Salem, and, of course, he was soon on his way thither. The
new mate had a young wife in Boston, and he, too, was speedily
missing. One by one, the crew sneaked off in the darkness. The second
mate quickly found an excuse for a visit in the neighborhood; so that,
by midnight, the Galatea, with a cargo valued at about one hundred and
twenty thousand dollars, was intrusted to the watchfulness of a
stripling cabin-boy.
I do not say it boastfully, but it is true that, whenever I have been
placed in responsible situations, from the earliest period of my
recollection, I felt an immediate stirring of that pride which always
made me equal, or at least willing, for the required duty. All night
long I paced the deck. Of all the wandering crowd that had accompanied
me nearly a year across many seas, I alone had no companions, friends,
home, or sweetheart, to seduce me from my craft; and I confess that
the sentiment of loneliness, which, under other circumstances, might
have unmanned me at my American greeting, was stifled by the mingled
vanity and pride with which I trod the quarter-deck as temporary
captain.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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