Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African SlaverCanot, Theodore
History
Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African Slaver
Canot, Theodore
Slave trade
As I put my leg over the taffrail, I tried once more to smooth the
bristles of the terrier, but a snarl and a snap repaid me for my good
humor. Nevertheless, I resolved "to heap coals of fire on the head" of
the ingrate; and, before I cast off our lashings, threw on his deck a
dozen yams, a bag of frijoles, a barrel of pork, a couple of sacks of
white Spanish biscuits,--and, with a cheer, bade him adieu.
But there was no balm in calomel for the captain. Scotch physic could
not save him. He declined day by day; yet the energy of his hard
nature kept him alive when other men would have sunk, and enabled him
to command even from his sick bed.
It was always our Sabbath service to drum the men to quarters and
exercise them with cannons and small arms. One Sunday, after the
routine was over, the dying man desired to inspect his crew, and was
carried to the quarter-deck on a mattress. Each sailor marched in
front of him and was allowed to take his hand; after which he called
them around in a body, and announced his apprehension that death would
claim him before our destination was reached. Then, without previously
apprising us of his design, he proceeded to make a verbal testament,
and enjoined it upon all as a duty to his memory to obey implicitly.
If the San Pablo arrived safely in port, he desired that every officer
and mariner should be paid the promised bounty, and that the proceeds
of cargo should be sent to his family in Nantz. But, if it happened
that we were attacked by a cruiser, and the brig was saved by the risk
and valor of a defence,--then, he directed that one half the voyage's
avails should be shared between officers and crew, while one quarter
was sent to his friends in France, and the other given to me. His
sailing-master and Cuban consignees were to be the executors of this
salt water document.
We were now well advanced north-westwardly on our voyage, and in every
cloud could see a promise of the continuing trade-wind, which was
shortly to end a luckless voyage. From deck to royal,--from flying-jib
to ring-tail, every stitch of canvas that would draw was packed and
crowded on the brig. Vessels were daily seen in numbers, but none
appeared suspicious till we got far to the westward, when my glass
detected a cruising schooner, jogging along under easy sail. I ordered
the helmsman to keep his course; and taughtening sheets, braces, and
halyards, went into the cabin to receive the final orders of our
commander.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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