After all these adventures, I was very near losing the schooner before I got to land, by one of the perils of the sea, for which I blame myself that I was not better prepared.

It was the afternoon of a fine day. For some time, I had noticed on the horizon a low bank of white cloud, which rapidly spread itself over the sky and water, surrounding us with an impenetrable fog. I apprehended danger; yet, before I could make the schooner snug to meet the squall, a blast as sudden and loud as a thunderbolt prostrated her nearly on her beam. The shock was so violent and unforeseen, that the unrestrained slaves, who were enjoying the fine weather on deck, rolled to leeward till they floundered in the sea that inundated the scuppers. There was no power in the tiller to “keep her away” before the blast, for the rudder was almost out of water; but, fortunately, our mainsail burst in shreds from the bolt-ropes, and, relieving us from its pressure, allowed the schooner to right under control of the helm. The West Indian squall abandoned us as rapidly as it assailed, and I was happy to find that our entire loss did not exceed two slave-children, who had been carelessly suffered to sit on the rail.

The reader knows that my voyage was an impromptu speculation, without papers, manifest, register, consignees, or destination. It became necessary, therefore, that I should exercise a very unusual degree of circumspection, not only in landing my human cargo, but in selecting a spot from which I might communicate with proper persons. I had never been in Cuba, save on the occasion already described, nor were my business transactions extended beyond the Regla association, by which I was originally sent to Africa.

The day after the “white squall” I found our schooner drifting with a leading breeze along the southern coast of Cuba, and as the time seemed favorable, I thought I might as well cut the Gordian knot of dilemma by landing my cargo in a secluded cove that indented the beach about nine miles east of Sant’ Iago. If I had been consigned to the spot, I could not have been more fortunate in my reception. Some sixty yards from the landing I found the comfortable home of a ranchero who proffered the hospitality usual in such cases, and devoted a spacious barn to the reception of my slaves while his family prepared an abundant meal.

As soon as the cargo was safe from the grasp of cruisers, I resolved to disregard the flagless and paperless craft that bore it safely from Africa, and being unacquainted in Sant’ Iago, to cross the island towards the capital, in search of a consignee. Accordingly I mounted a spirited little horse, and with a montero guide, turned my face once more towards the “ever faithful city of Havana.”

My companion had a thousand questions for “the captain,” all of which I answered with so much bonhommie, that we soon became the best friends imaginable, and chatted over all the scandal of Cuba. I learned from this man that a cargo had recently been “run” in the neighborhood of Matanzas, and that its disposal was most successfully managed by a Senor , from Catalonia.

I slapped my thigh and shouted eureka! It flashed through my mind to trust this man without further inquiry, and I confess that my decision was based exclusively upon his sectional nationality. I am partial to the Catalans.

Accordingly, I presented myself at the counting-room of my future consignee in due time, and “made a clean breast” of the whole transaction, disclosing the destitute state of my vessel. In a very short period, his Excellency the Captain-General was made aware of my arrival and furnished a list of “the Africans,” by which name the Bosal slaves are commonly known in Cuba. Nor was the captain of the port neglected. A convenient blank page of his register was inscribed with the name of my vessel as having sailed from the port six months before, and this was backed by a register and muster-roll, in order to secure my unquestionable entry into a harbor.

Before nightfall every thing was in order with Spanish despatch when stimulated either by doubloons or the smell of African blood; and twenty-four hours afterwards, I was again at the landing with a suit of clothes and blanket for each of my “domestics.” The schooner was immediately put in charge of a clever pilot, who undertook the formal duty and name of her commander, in order to elude the vigilance of all the minor officials whose conscience had not been lulled by the golden anodyne.

In the meanwhile every attention had been given to the slaves by my hospitable ranchero. The “head-money” once paid, no body, civil, military, foreign, or Spanish dared interfere with them. Forty-eight hours of rest, ablution, exercise and feeding, served to recruit the gang and steady their gait. Nor had the sailors in charge of the party omitted the performance of their duty as “valets” to the gentlemen and “ladies’ maids” to the females; so that when the march towards Sant’ Iago began, the procession might have been considered as “respectable as it was numerous.”

The brokers of the southern emporium made very little delay in finding purchasers at retail for the entire venture. The returns were, of course, in cash; and so well did the enterprise turn out, that I forgot the rebellion of our mutineers, and allowed them to share my bounty with the rest of the crew. In fact, so pleased was I with the result on inspecting the balance-sheet, that I resolved to divert myself with the dolce far niente of Cuban country life for a month at least.

But while I was making ready for this delightful repose, a slight breeze passed over the calmness of my mirror. I had given, perhaps imprudently, but certainly with generous motives, a double pay to my men in recompense of their perilous service on the Rio Nunez. With the usual recklessness of their craft, they lounged about Havana, boasting of their success, while a Frenchman of the party, who had been swindled of his wages at cards, appealed to his Consul for relief. By dint of cross questions the Gallic official extracted the tale of our voyage from his countryman, and took advantage of the fellow’s destitution to make him a witness against a certain Don Teodore Canot, who was alleged to be a native of France! Besides this, the punishment of my mate was exaggerated by the recreant Frenchman into a most unjustifiable as well as cruel act.

Of course the story was promptly detailed to the Captain-General, who issued an order for my arrest. But I was too wary and flush to be caught so easily by the guardian of France’s lilies. No person bearing my name could be found in the island; and as the schooner had entered port with Spanish papers, Spanish crew, and was regularly sold, it became manifest to the stupefied Consul that the sailor’s “yarn” was an entire fabrication. That night a convenient press-gang, in want of recruits for the royal marine, seized the braggadocio crew, and as there were no witnesses to corroborate the Consul’s complaint, it was forthwith dismissed.

Things are managed very cleverly in Havana when you know how!