It was my invariable custom whenever a vessel made her appearance in the roadstead of New Sestros, to despatch my canoe with “Captain Canot’s compliments;” nor did I omit this graceful courtesy when his Britannic Majesty’s cruisers did me the honor of halting in my neighborhood to watch or destroy my operations. At such times I commonly increased the politeness by an offer of my services, and a tender of provisions, or of any commodity the country could supply!

I remember an interesting rencounter of this sort with the officers of the brig of war Bonito. My note was forwarded by a trusty Krooman, even before her sails were furled, but the courteous offer was respectfully declined “for the present.” The captain availed himself, however, of my messenger’s return, to announce that the “commodore in command of the African squadron had specially deputed the Bonito to blockade New Sestros, for which purpose she was provisioned for six months, and ordered not to budge from her anchorage till relieved by a cruiser!”

This formidable announcement was, of course, intended to strike me with awe. The captain hoped in conclusion, that I would see the folly of prosecuting my abominable traffic in the face of such a disastrous vis a vis; nor could he refrain from intimating his surprise that a man of my reputed character and ability, would consent to manacle and starve the unfortunate negroes who were now suffering in my barracoons.

I saw at once from this combined attack of fear and flattery, backed by blockade, that his majesty’s officer had either been grossly misinformed, or believed that a scarcity of rice prevailed in my establishment as well as elsewhere along the coast.

The suspicion of starving blacks in chains, was not only pathetic but mortifying! It was part of the sentimental drapery of British reports and despatches, to which I became accustomed in Africa. I did not retort upon my dashing captain with a sneer at his ancestors who had taught the traffic to Spaniards, yet I resolved not to let his official communications reach the British admiralty with a fanciful tale about my barracoons and starvation. Accordingly, without more ado, I sent a second billet to the Bonito, desiring her captain or any of her officers to visit New Sestros, and ascertain personally the condition of my establishment.

Strange to tell, my invitation was accepted; and at noon a boat with a white flag, appeared on the edge of the surf, conveying two officers to my beach. The surgeon and first lieutenant were my visitors. I welcomed them most cordially to my cottage, and as soon as the customary refreshments were despatched, proposed a glance at the dreadful barracoons.

As well as I now remember, there must have been at least five hundred slaves in my two pens, sleek in flesh, happy in looks, and ready for the first customer who could outwit the cruiser. I quietly despatched a notice of our advent to the barracooniers, with directions as to their conduct, so that the moment my naval friends entered the stanch inclosures, full two hundred and fifty human beings, in each, rose to their feet and saluted the strangers with long and reiterated clapping. This sudden and surprising demonstration somewhat alarmed my guests at its outburst, and made them retreat a pace towards the door, perhaps in fear of treachery; but when they saw the smiling faces and heard the pleased chatter of my people, they soon came forward to learn that the compliment was worth a customary demijohn of rum.

The adventure was a fortunate one for the reputation of New Sestros, Don Pedro my employer, and Don Teodor, his clerk. Our establishment happened just then to be at a summit of material comfort rarely exceeded or even reached by others. My pens were full of slaves; my granary, of rice; my stores, of merchandise.

From house to house, from hut to hut, the sailor and saw-bones wandered with expressions of perfect admiration, till the hour for dinner approached. I ordered the meal to be administered with minute attention to all our usual ceremonies. The washing, singing, distribution of food, beating time, and all the prandial etceteras of comfort, were performed with the utmost precision and cleanliness. They could not believe that such was the ordinary routine of slave life in barracoons, but ventured to hint that I must have got up the drama for their special diversion, and that it was impossible for such to be the ordinary drill and demeanor of Africans. Our dapper little surgeon, with almost dissective inquisitiveness, pried into every nook and corner; and at length reached the slave kitchen, where a caldron was full and bubbling with the most delicious rice. Hard by stood a pot, simmering with meat and soup, and in an instant the doctor had a morsel between his fingers and brought his companion to follow his example.

Now, in sober truth, this was no casual display got up for effect, but the common routine of an establishment conducted with prudent foresight, for the profit of its owners as well as the comfort of our people. And yet, such was the fanatical prepossession of these Englishmen, whose idea of Spanish factories and barracoons was formed exclusively from exaggerated reports, that I could not satisfy them of my truth till I produced our journal, in which I noted minutely every item of daily expenditure. It must be understood, however, that it was not my habit to give the slaves meat every day of the week. Such a diet would not be prudent, because it is not habitual with the majority of negroes. Two bullocks were slaughtered each week for the use of my factory, while the hide, head, blood, feet, neck, tail, and entrails, were appropriated for broth in the barracoons. It happened that my visitors arrived on the customary day of our butchering.

A stinging appetite was the natural result of our review, and while the naval guests were whetting it still more, I took the opportunity to slip out of my verandah with orders for our harbor-pilot to report the beach “impracticable for boats,” a report which no prudent sailor on the coast ever disregards. Meanwhile, I despatched a Krooman with a note to the Bonito’s captain, notifying that personage of the marine hazard that prevented his officers’ immediate return, and fearing they might even find it necessary to tarry over night. This little ruse was an impromptu device to detain my inspectors, and make us better acquainted over the African cuisine, which, by this time was smoking in tureens and dishes flanked by spirited sentinels, in black uniform, of claret and eau de vie.

Our dinner-chat was African all over: slavery, cruisers, prize-money, captures, war, negro-trade, and philanthropy! The surgeon melted enough under the blaze of the bottle to admit, as a philosopher, that Cuffee was happier in the hands of white men than of black, and that he would even support the institution if it could be carried on with a little more humanity and less bloodshed. The lieutenant saw nothing, even through the “Spiritual Medium” of our flagons, save prize-money and obedience to the Admiral; while Don Teodor became rather tart on the service, and confessed that his incredulity of British philanthropy would never cease till England abandoned her Indian wars, her opium smuggling, and her persecution of the Irish!

In truth, these loyal subjects of the King, and the Spanish slaver became most excellent friends before bed-time, and ended the evening by a visit to Prince Freeman, who forthwith got up a negro dance and jollification for our special entertainment.

I have not much recollection after the end of this savage frolic till my “look-out” knocked at the door with the news that our brig was firing for her officers, while a suspicious sail flitted along the horizon.

All good sailors sleep with one eye and ear open, so that in a twinkling the lieutenant was afoot making for the beach, and calling for the surgeon to follow. “A canoe! a canoe! a canoe!” shouted the gallant blade, while he ran to and fro on the edge of the surf, beholding signal after signal from his vessel. But alas! for the British navy, out of all the Kroo spectators not one stirred hand or foot for the royal officer. Next came the jingle of dollars, and the offer of twenty to the boatmen who would launch their skiff and put them on board. “No savez! No savez! ax Commodore! ax Consul!”

“Curse your Commodore and Consul!” yelled the Lieutenant, as the surgeon came up with the vociferous group: “put us aboard and be paid, or I’ll?”

“Stop, stop!” interposed my pacific saw-bones, “no swearing and no threats, lieutenant. One’s just as useless as the other. First of all, the Bonito’s off about her business; and next, my dear fellow, the chase she’s after is one of Canot’s squadron, and, of course, there’s an embargo on every canoe along this beach! The Commodore’s altogether too cute, as the Yankees say, to reinforce his enemy with officers!”

During this charming little episode of my blockade, I was aloft in my bellevieu, watching the progress of the chase; and as both vessels kept steadily northward they soon disappeared behind the land.

By this time it was near breakfast, and, with a good appetite, I descended to the verandah, with as unconcerned an air as if nothing had occurred beyond the ordinary routine of factory life. But, not so, alas! my knight of the single epaulette.

“This is a pretty business, sir;” said the lieutenant, fixing a look on me which was designed to annihilate; striding up and down the piazza, “a very pretty business, I repeat! Pray, Commodore, Consul, Don, Senor, Mister, Monsieur, Theodore Canot, or whatever the devil else you please to call yourself, how long do you intend to keep British officers prisoners in your infernal slave den?”

Now it is very likely that some years before, or if I had not contrived the plot of this little naval contre temps, I might have burst forth in a beautiful rage, and given my petulant and foiled visitor a specimen of my Spanish vocabulary, which would not have rested pleasantly in the memory of either party. But as he warmed I cooled. His rage, in fact, was a fragment of my practical satire, and I took special delight in beholding the contortions caused by my physic.

“Sit down, sit down, lieutenant!” returned I very composedly, “we’re about to have coffee, and you are my guest. Nothing, lieutenant, ever permits me to neglect the duties of hospitality in such an out-of-the-way and solitary place as Africa. Sit down, doctor! Calm yourselves, gentlemen. Take example by me! Your Bonito is probably playing the devil with one of Don Pedro’s craft by this time; but that don’t put me out of temper, or make me unmannerly to gentlemen who honor my bamboo hut with their presence!” I laid peculiar stress, by way of accent, on the word “unmannerly,” and in a moment I saw the field was in my hands.

“Yes, gentlemen,” continued I, “I comprehend very well both your duty and responsibility; but, now that I see you are calmer, have the kindness to say in what I am to blame? Did you not come here to ‘blockade’ New Sestros, with a brig and provisions for half a year? And do I prevent your embarkation, if you can find any Krooman willing to take you on board? Nay, did either of you apprise me, as is customary when folks go visiting, that you designed leaving my quarters at so early an hour as to afford me the pleasure of seeing every thing in order for your accommodation? Come now, my good fellows, New Sestros is my flagship, as the Bonito is yours! No body stirs from this beach without the wink from its Commodore; and I shall be much surprised to hear such excellent disciplinarians dispute the propriety of my rule. Nevertheless, as you feel anxious to be gone on an independent cruise, you shall be furnished with a canoe instanter!”

“An offer,” interjected the surgeon, “which it would be d d nonsense to accept! Have done with your infernal sneering, Don Teodor; strike your flag, Mr. Lieutenant; and let the darkies bring in the breakfast!”

I have narrated this little anecdote to show that Spanish slavers sometimes ventured to have a little fun with the British lion, and that when we got him on his haunches, his month full of beef and his fore paws in air, he was by no means the unamiable beast he is described to be, when, in company with the unicorn, he goes

“a-fighting for the crown!”