When at length we were alone, our host invited us to light up another cigar, and, himself setting us the example, proceeded to a cabinet that stood in the corner of the room, opening which he produced a folded document from a drawer, and unfolding it, laid it before us.
“This, gentlemen,” said he, “is a rough sketch-chart of the embouchure of the Congo. It does not profess to be drawn to scale; but I am told that it shows with approximate accuracy the relative positions of the various creeks and indentations that discharge into the main river, up to the Narrows. Now, the individual from whom I obtained this chart informs me that at a distance of about two and a half miles up a certain creek on the south bank—this one, the mouth of which is indicated by a star—there is a rather considerable native settlement, ruled by a savage, known to the few Europeans who possess the doubtful honour of his acquaintance as King Plenty. And, if my informant is to be depended upon, this potentate, whose chief characteristics are avarice and brutal ferocity, has discovered a very simple method of combining business with pleasure by making ruthless war upon his neighbours, and, after his lust for slaughter is satisfied, disposing of his prisoners to certain slave-dealers, who have established themselves on the southern bank of the creek, where they have erected barracoons, factories, and every convenience for carrying on their nefarious trade. I am told that within the last six months this spot, known only to a select few, has been frequently visited, and large numbers of slaves have been carried away from it; its natural characteristics rendering it especially suitable for the traffic. For instance, it would appear that this creek, like most of the others that discharge into the Congo, and like the African rivers generally, has its own little bar at its mouth, upon which there is only one and three-quarter fathoms of water, and is therefore unapproachable by any of the men-o’-war on the station—excepting perhaps the Barracouta, and she is away cruising just now—while the character of the banks is such as to afford every facility for a galling and continuous fire upon a flotilla of boats advancing up the creek. I have therefore thought that the breaking up and destruction of this slave-trading station would be a piece of work admirably suited to the Felicidad and her gallant crew”—Ryan and I simultaneously bowed our appreciation of the compliment—“because it is especially a case wherein valour and discretion must go hand-in-hand, the service being of an especially hazardous nature; and I feel that in no one are the two qualities that I have mentioned more admirably combined than in the person of Captain Ryan.”
Ryan bowed again, and remarked—
“I am obliged for your Excellency’s good opinion of me; and still more so for the information that you have been good enough to give us to-night. I have been very fortunate, so far, in the schooner, and I suppose I may reckon upon my promotion as certain; but I am eager to have further opportunities of distinguishing myself, and if we can only be lucky enough to find two or three slavers up that creek, and to capture them, it would afford me just the opportunity that I require. I shall sail to-morrow, and shall hope to be back here again in a month or six weeks, with two or three prizes in company, and the assurance that the establishment in question is completely destroyed.”
We sat a few minutes longer, drank a final glass of wine, and then took our leave and walked down to the schooner together, Ryan having determined to sleep on board her that night.
We sailed from Sierra Leone on the following day, as Ryan had resolved we should; but, as usually happens when matters are hurried, we met with an endless succession of petty delays at the last moment that detained us at anchor until nearly nightfall, and occasioned us a vast amount of trotting about in the broiling sun to put some life into the dilatory people who were keeping us waiting; the consequence of which was that when at last we lifted the anchor and stood out of the bay with the very last of the sea-breeze, to run into a calm when we had attained an offing of some two miles, I felt altogether too tired and knocked up to eat or drink; while, as for Ryan, he was in a state of high fever once more.
We got the land breeze about eight o’clock that night, and stood away to the southward and westward until midnight, in order that we might obtain a good offing, when we hauled up on a south-east course for the Congo. I remained on deck until midnight—at which hour I was relieved by Pierrepoint—and then was obliged to send for the doctor, who, after feeling my pulse, ordered me to my bunk at once, and when I was there administered to me a tremendous dose of some frightfully bitter concoction, telling me at the same time, for my comfort, that he would not be in the least surprised if, when he next visited me, he should find me suffering from a severe attack of coast fever. Happily, his anticipations, so far as I was concerned, were unfounded; but by daybreak poor Ryan was in a state of raving delirium, with three men in his cabin told off to keep him in his bunk and prevent him from inflicting upon himself some injury. As for me, the medicine that I had taken threw me first into a profuse perspiration, and afterwards into a deep sleep, from which I awoke next morning cool, free from pain, and with a quiet, steady pulse, but very weak; and I did not fully recover my strength until a day or two before we made the land about the Congo mouth, which we did after a long passage that was uneventful in everything save the persistency with which we were beset by calms and light, baffling airs. By this time Ryan, too, had recovered to a certain extent; that is to say, he was able to leave his bunk and to stagger up on deck for an hour or so at a time, but he was still frightfully weak; and it often appeared to me, from the rather wild talk in which he sometimes indulged, that he had not thus far fully recovered his mental balance.
We made the land about six bells in the forenoon watch, and stood straight in for Shark Point, which we hugged pretty closely, in order to cheat the current, which, as usual at that time of the year, was running out pretty strongly. The sea-breeze was blowing half a gale, however, and despite the current the little Felicidad slid over the ground bravely, arriving abreast the mouth of the creek to which we were bound about four bells in the afternoon watch. We here cleared the schooner for action, sent the men to their quarters, and, with a leadsman in the fore-chains, both on the port and on the starboard sides, and with Ryan, sketch-chart in hand, conning the vessel, steered boldly into the creek. The soundings which we obtained at the entrance proved the chart to be so far correct, and with our confidence thus strengthened we glided gently forward over the glassy waters of the creek, every eye being directed anxiously ahead, for we knew not at what moment we might encounter our enemy, nor in what force he might be. To me it appeared that we were acting in rather a foolhardy manner in thus rushing blindfold as it were upon the unknown, and earlier in the day—in fact, just after we had entered the river—I had suggested to Ryan the advisability of taking the schooner somewhat higher up the stream and anchoring her in a snug and well-sheltered spot that we had noticed when last in the river in the Barracouta, and sending the boats away at night to reconnoitre. But this happened to be one of the captain’s bad days—by which I mean that it was one of the days when the fever from which he had been suffering seemed to partially regain its hold upon him, making him impatient, irritable, and unwilling to receive anything in the shape of a suggestion from anybody; and my proposal was therefore scouted as savouring of something approaching to timidity. I had long ago got over any such feeling, however; and even now, when we momentarily expected to come face to face with the enemy, I found myself sufficiently calm and collected to note and admire the many beauties of the scene as the creek opened up before us.
For the scene was beautiful exceedingly with a wild, tropical lavishness of strange and, in some cases, grotesque forms and rich magnificence of colour that no words can adequately describe, and even the artist’s palette would be taxed to its utmost capacity to merely suggest. The creek was, as usual in the Congo, lined with an almost unbroken, impassable belt of mangroves, their multitudinous roots, gnarled and twisted, springing from the thick, mud-stained water, and presenting a confused, inextricable tangle to the eye, from the d
eep shadows of which flitted kingfishers of many species and brilliant plumage; while above swayed and rustled in the gentle breeze the delicate grey-green foliage of the trees themselves, now in full and luxuriant leaf, affording a delicious contrast of cool green shadow, with the glints of dazzling sunshine that streamed here and there through the verdant masses. Great clusters of magnificent orange-tinted orchids gleamed like galaxies of golden stars between the mangrove trunks at frequent intervals; clumps of feathery bamboo swayed gently in the soft warm breeze; the dense background of bush displayed every conceivable tint of foliage, from brilliant gold to deepest purple bronze; and magnificent forest trees towered in stately majesty over all, rearing their superb heads a hundred and fifty feet into the intense blue of the cloudless sky; while everywhere, over bush and tree and withered stump, blazed in thousands the trailing blossoms of brilliant-hued climbing plants that loaded the air to intoxication with the sweetness of their mingled perfumes. Parrots and other gaily-plumaged birds flitted busily hither and thither with loud and—it must be admitted—more or less discordant cries; inquisitive monkeys swung from branch to branch, and either peered curiously at us as we passed, or dashed precipitately, with loud cries of alarm, into the concealment of the deepest shadows at our approach; and at one point, where the belt of mangroves was interrupted, and a small, open, grassy space reached down to the water’s edge, a stately antelope stepped daintily down into the water, as though to slake his thirst, but catching sight of the approaching schooner, bounded off again into the contiguous bush, where he was instantly lost sight of in the sombre green gloom.
At a distance of about two miles from the mouth of the creek we reached a spot where it forked, one arm—the wider of the two—running in a due east-by-south direction, while the other trended away to the west-south-west, communicating—as we afterwards discovered—with another creek which, although too shoal for navigation by sea-going craft, would have afforded us excellent facilities for a reconnaissance with the boats. At this point the southern shore of the creek exhibited signs of cultivation, small patches of bush having been cleared here and there and planted with maize, or sugarcane, or yams, a small reed-hut thatched with palm-leaves usually standing in one corner of the plot, with a tethered goat close by, a few fowls, or other traces of its being inhabited. Of the human inhabitants themselves, however, strangely enough, nothing was to be seen. But it was clear that we were nearing our goal; and word was passed along the deck for the men to hold themselves prepared for instant action.
There were several memoranda jotted down upon the chart for our guidance, and among these was an intimation to look out for a clump of exceptionally tall trees on the southern bank of the creek, under the broad shadow of which the slave barracoons were stated to be built. A few minutes after passing the branch creek already referred to we arrived at a bend, and as the schooner glided round it, and entered a new reach, these trees swept into view; there could be no mistaking them, for they lifted their majestic heads—there were five of them—fully fifty feet clear above those of their brethren. Moreover, they stood quite close to the margin of the creek, thus confirming the statement made upon the sketch-chart. But had there been any lurking doubt in our minds about the matter they would have been quickly dispelled, for as we glided forward, a small sandy beach—also referred to in the chart—was made out projecting from the southern bank, at which some twenty or thirty large canoes lay with their bows hauled sufficiently out of the water to prevent their going adrift. That a vigilant watch was being kept upon the waters of the creek became quickly apparent, for we had scarcely made out the canoes when we saw several negroes rush down to one of them, launch it, and paddle swiftly away up the creek and round another bend, while, as we advanced, a crowd of naked blacks, armed with spears, shields, and muskets, gathered upon the beach, and, from their actions, seemed fully prepared to forcibly resist any attempt on our part to effect a landing.
Still advancing up the creek, we gradually opened the vista of the reach beyond—that in which the canoe had a few minutes previously vanished—and at length, when only a short half-mile intervened between us and the beach—which projected boldly nearly half-way across the channel—the main-mast of a schooner crept into view beyond the concealment of the hitherto intervening bush and trees; and bringing our glasses to bear upon her, we detected signs of great bustle and confusion on board her, and made out that her crew were busily engaged in tricing up boarding nettings, and otherwise making preparations for her defence.
Ryan now ordered our ensign and pennant to be hoisted, thus boldly announcing at once our nationality and the fact of our being an enemy—an announcement which I should have deemed it perfectly justifiable to defer until the last possible moment—and the schooner at once replied by hoisting French colours and firing a gun of defiance. This greatly amused our people, to whom the act seemed a piece of ridiculous braggadocio—for the stranger was no bigger than ourselves—but the laugh left their faces and was succeeded by a look of grim resolution when presently we opened out another and a larger schooner and a heavy, handsome brigantine, the first flying Spanish colours and the brigantine a black flag! But this was not all, for before we arrived abreast the beach we had opened out still another schooner with the Spanish flag floating from her mast-head; and by what we saw going on board the four craft it became evident that we had by no means caught these bold rovers napping, and that we might confidently reckon upon meeting with a very warm reception. Moreover, it was clear that, snug as was their place of concealment, and unlikely as it was to be discovered save, as in our case, by betrayal, they had left nothing to chance, but had taken every possible precaution to insure their safety, the four craft being moored in pairs, with springs on their cables, stern to stern right across the stream, so that, the fair-way being very narrow, they would have to be fought and taken in succession, a necessity which I at once recognised, and which, to my limited experience, seemed to militate very strongly against our chances of success. It was, however, altogether too late now to hesitate or alter our plans; we had plunged headlong and, as it were, blindfold into a hornet’s nest from which nothing but the coolest courage and determination could extricate us, and, while I had long ago completely conquered the feeling of trepidation and anxiety that almost everybody experiences more or less when going into action for the first time, I could not altogether suppress a doubt as to whether Ryan, in his then very indifferent state of health, possessed quite all the coolness and clear-headedness as well as the nerve that I anticipated would be necessary to see us safely out of our present entanglement.
* * *
Chapter Ten.
A Disastrous Expedition.
Upon arriving abreast the beach, which we were obliged to hug pretty closely in consequence of the contracted width of the channel and the fact that the deepest water lay close to it, we found it occupied by fully five hundred naked blacks, all of whom appeared to be profoundly excited, for they yelled continuously at the top of their voices and fiercely brandished their weapons. They appeared to be acting under the leadership of a very tall and immensely powerful man who wore a leopard-skin cloak upon his shoulders, and a head-dress of brilliantly-coloured feathers. He was armed with two muskets, and had a ship’s cutlass girt about his waist. A white man—or a half-caste, it was difficult to tell which at that distance, so deeply bronzed was he—accompanied him; a man attired in a suit of white drill topped off with a broad-brimmed Panama hat wrapped round with a white puggaree; and it appeared that all the excitement and animosity manifested by the blacks at our approach was instigated by him, for we saw him speaking earnestly to the apparent leader of the blacks, gesticulating violently in our direction as he did so, while the savage now and then turned to his followers and addressed a few sentences to them which seemed to arouse them to a higher pitch of frenzy than ever.
Beyond the sand beach a wide open space extended that had evidently at one time been carpeted with grass, for small tufts and patches o
f it still remained here and there, but for the most part the rich, deep chocolate-coloured earth was worn bare by the trampling of many feet. This open space was occupied by a native village of considerable dimensions, the houses—or huts, rather—being for the most part square or quadrangular structures, although there were a few circular ones among them, built of upright logs with panels of mud and leaves between them, roofed in with palm-leaf thatch, the eaves projecting sufficiently at each end to form a verandah some six or eight feet deep. At a little distance from the village, a hundred yards or so, towered the clump of lofty trees under which the slave barracoons were said to be erected; but whether this was so or not we could not tell, as a belt of bush interposed between us and the trees, affording an effectual screen to any buildings that might stand beneath their shadow.
As the schooner glided up abreast of the beach, with the hands at the sheets, halliards, and downhauls, clewing up and hauling down preparatory to running alongside the schooner nearest us, a great shout was raised by the negroes, immediately followed by a confused discharge of their muskets and the hurling of a few spears, but where the bullets went we never knew, for certainly none of them came near us, and as for the spears, they fell short and dropped harmlessly into the water. To this salute we of course made no reply, as our business was not to make war upon the natives unless absolutely compelled to do so, and three minutes later, having taken as much room as the width of the creek would permit, our helm was eased over and the Felicidad swept round toward the object of her first attack, which was the schooner flying French colours. A death-like and ominous silence now prevailed on board the four craft that we were so audaciously attacking, and not a man was to be seen on board either of them. This state of things continued until we were within forty fathoms of the nearest craft, when a shouted command arose from on board the brigantine—which was the third craft away from us—and instantly the ports of the two nearest schooners were thrown open, and a rattling broadside of nine guns loaded with round and grape was poured into us with terrible effect, for we were almost bows-on at the moment, and the shot swept our deck fore and aft. No less than eleven of our people went down before that murderous discharge, and as five of them lay motionless, I greatly feared that the poor fellows would never rise again. We reserved our fire until the sides of our own schooner and the Frenchman were almost touching, and then gave him our broadside and the contents of Long Tom as well; then, as the Felicidad struck her opponent pretty violently, Ryan waved his sword above his head, snatched a pistol from his belt with his left hand, and shouted—
The Pirate Slaver Page 13
