Journal of an African Cruiser: Comprising Sketches of the Canaries, the Cape De Verds, Liberia, Madeira, Sierra Leone, and Other Places of Interest on the West Coast of Africa — John Shaqi
Journal of an African Cruiser: Comprising Sketches of the Canaries, the Cape De Verds, Liberia, Madeira, Sierra Leone, and Other Places of Interest on the West Coast of AfricaBridge, Horatio
History
Journal of an African Cruiser: Comprising Sketches of the Canaries, the Cape De Verds, Liberia, Madeira, Sierra Leone, and Other Places of Interest on the West Coast of Africa
Bridge, Horatio
Africa, West -- Description and travel; Bridge, Horatio, 1806-1893
Meanwhile, the pilot had not been idle. Though a married man, and the
father of six children, he was a gay Lothario, and a great favorite with
the sex; he could sing, dance, and touch the guitar with infinite spirit,
and tolerable skill. Being well known in the village, it is not surprising
that the arrival of so accomplished a personage should have disturbed the
slumbers of the inhabitants. At ten o'clock, a dance was arranged before
the door of one of the huts. The dark-skinned maidens, requiring but
little time to put on their ball-costume, came dropping in, until, before
midnight, there were thirty or forty dancers on foot. The figures were
compounded of the contra-dance and reel, with some remarkable touches of
the Mandingo balance. The music proceeded from one or two guitars, which,
however, were drowned a great part of the time, by the singing of the
girls and the clapping of each individual pair of hands in the whole
party. A calabash of sour wine, munificently bestowed by a spectator,
increased the fun, and it continued to wax higher and more furious, as the
night wore away. Our little pilot was, throughout, the leader of the
frolic, and acquitted himself admirably. His nether garments having
received serious detriment in the voyage, he borrowed a large heavy
pea-jacket, to conceal the rents, and in this garb danced for hours with
the best, in a sultry night. Long before the festivity was over, my
companions and myself stretched ourselves on a wide bag of straw, and fell
asleep, lulled by the screaming of the dancers.
The next morning we were early on foot, and looked around us with no small
interest. The village is situated at the point where a valley opens upon
the shore. The sides of this vale are steep, and, in many places, high,
perpendicular, and rocky. Every foot of earth is cultivated; and where the
natural inclination of the hill is too great to admit of tillage, stone
walls are built to sustain terraces, which rise one over another like
giant steps to the mountain-tops. It was the beginning of harvest, and the
little valley presented an appearance of great fertility. Corn, bananas,
figs, guavas, grapes, oranges, sugar-cane, cocoa-nuts, and many other
fruits and vegetables, are raised in abundance. The annual vintage in this
and a neighboring valley, appertaining to the same parish, amounts to
about seventy-five pipes of wine. It is sour and unpalatable, not unlike
hard-cider and water. When a cultivator first tries his wine, it is a
custom of the island for him to send notice to all his acquaintances, who
invariably come in great force, each bringing a piece of salt-fish to keep
his thirst alive. Not unfrequently, the whole produce of the season is
exhausted by a single carouse.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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