Captain Canot, or, Twenty years of an African slavery : being an account of his career and adventures on the coast, in the interior, or shipboard, and in the West Indies

Front matter

CAPTAIN CANOT;

TWENTY YEARS OF AN AFRICAN SLAYER-

BEING AN ACCOUNT OP

Contents

PAG*

CIIAP. i.—My parentage end education—Apprenticed at Leghorn to an American captain—First voyage—its mishaps—overboard—black cook—Sumatra—cabin boy —Arrival in Boston—My first command—View of Boston harbor from the mast¬ head—My first interview with a Boston merchant, William Quay ... 1

CHAP. II.—My uncle tells my adventure with Lokd Byron—Captain Towne, and my life in Salem—My skill in Latin—Five years voyaging from Salem—I rescue a Malay girl at Quallahbattoo—The first slave I ever saw—End of my apprentice¬ ship—My backslidings in Antwerp and Paris—Ship on a British vessel for Brazil —The captain and his wife—Love, grog, and grumbling—A scene in the harbor of Bio—Matrimonial happiness—Voyage to Europe—Wreck and loss on the coast

Chapter I

Whilst Bonaparte was busy conquering Italy, my excellent father, Louis Canot, a captain and paymaster in the French army, thought fit to pursue his fortunes among the gentler sex of that fascinating country, and luckily won the heart and hand of a blooming Piedmontese, to whom I owe my birth in the capi¬ tal of Tuscany.

My father was faithful to the Emperor as well as the Consul. He followed his sovereign in his disasters as well as glory; nor did he falter in allegiance until death closed his career on the field of Waterloo.

Soldiers’ wives are seldom rich, and my mother was no ex¬ ception to the rule. She was left in very moderate circum¬ stances, with six children to support; but the widow of an old campaigner, who had partaken the sufferings of many a long and dreary march with her husband, was neither disheartened by the calamity, nor at a loss for thrifty expedients to educate her younger offspring. Accordingly, I was kept at school, studying geography, arithmetic, history and the languages, until near twelve years old, when it was thought time for me to choose a profession. At school, and in my leisure hours, I had always

CAFTAIN CANOT; OR,

1)0011 a greedy devourcr of books of travel, or historical narra¬ tives full of stirring incidents, so that when I avowed my prefer¬ ence for a sea-faring life, no one was surprised. Indeed, my fancy was rather applauded, as two of my mother’s brothers had served in the Neapolitan navy, under Murat. Proper inquiries were quickly made at Leghorn; and, in a few weeks, I. found myself on the mole of that noble seaport, comfortably equipped, with a liberal outfit, ready to embark, as an apprentice, upon the American ship Galatea, of Boston.

It was in the year 1819 , that I first saluted the element upon which it has been my destiny to pass so much of my life. The reader will readily imagine the discomforts to which I was sub¬ jected on this voyage. Born and bred in the interior of Italy, I had only the most romantic ideas of the sea. My opinions had been formed from the lives of men in loftier rank and under more interesting circumstances. My career was necessarily one of great hardship; and, to add to my misfortunes, I had neither companion nor language to vent my grief and demand sympathy. For the first three months, I was the butt of ev^ry joker in the ship. I was the scape-goat of every accident and of every one’s sins or carelessness. As I lived in the cabin, each plate, glass, or utensil, that fell to leeward in a gale, was charged to my negli¬ gence. Indeed, no one seemed to compassionate my lot save a fat, lubberly negro cook, whom I could not endure. Ho was the first African my eye ever fell on, and I must confess that he was the only friend I possessed during my early adventures.

Besides the officers of the Galatea, there was a clerk on board, whom the captain directed to teach me English, so that, by the time we reached Sumatra, I was able to stand up for my rights, and plead my cause. As we could not obtain a cargo of pepper on the island, we proceeded to Bengal; and, on our arri¬ val at Calcutta, the captain, who was also supercargo, took apart¬ ments on shore, where the clerk and myself were allowed to fol¬ low him.

According to the fashion of that period, the house provided for our accommodation was a spacious and elegant one, equipped with every oriental comfort d convenience, while fifteen or

TWENTY YEARS OF AN AFRICAN SLAVER.

twenty servants were always at the command of its inmates. For three months we lived like nabobs, and sorry, indeed, was I when the clerk announced that the vessel’s loading was completed, and our holiday over.

On the voyage home, I was promoted from the cabin, and sent into the steerage to do duty as a “ light hand,” in the chief mate’s watch. Between this officer and the captain there was ill blood, and, as I was considered the master’s pot, I soon began to feel the bitterness of the subordinate’s spite. This fellow was not only cross-grained, but absolutely malignant. One day, while the ship was skimming along gayly with a five-knot breeze, he ordered me out to the end of the jib-boom to loosen the sail; yet, without waiting until I was clear of the jib, he suddenly commanded the men who were at the halliards to hoist the can¬ vas aloft. A sailor who stood by pointed out my situation, but was cursed into silence. In a moment I was jerked into the air, and, after performing half a dozen involuntary summersets, was thrown into the water, some distance from the ship’s side. When I rose to the surface, I heard the prolonged cry of the anxious crew, all of whom rushed to the ship’s side, some with ropes’ ends, some with chicken coops, while others sprang to the stern boat to prepare it for launching. In the midst of the hurly-burly, the captain reached the deck, and laid the ship to; the sailor who hud remonstrated with the mate having, in ihe meantime, clutched that officer, and attempted to throw him over, believing I had been drowned by his cruelty. As the sail? of the Galatea flattened against the wind, many an anxious eye was strained over the water in search of me; but I was nowhere seen ! In truth, as the vessel turned on her heel, the movement brought her so close to the spot where I rose, that I clutched a rope thrown over for my rescue, and climbed to the lee channels without being perceived. As I leaped to the deck, I found one half the men in tumultuous assemblage around the struggling mate and sailor; but my sudden apparition served to divert the mob from its fell purpose, and, in a few moments, order was per¬ fectly restored. Our captain was an intelligent and just man, as may be readily supposed from the fact that he exclusively controlled so valuable an enterprise. Accordingly, the matter was examined with much deliberation; and, on the following day, the chief mate was deprived of his command. I 3hould not forget to mention that, in the midst of the excitement, my sable friend the cook leaped overboard to rescue his protege. Nobedy happened to notice the darkey when he sprang into the 3ea; and, as he swam in a direction quite contrary from the spot where I fell, ho was nigh being lost, when the ship’s sails were trimmed upon her course. Just at that moment a faint call was heard from the sea, and the woolly skull perceived in time for rescue.

This adventure elevated not only “ little Theodore,” but our “ culinary artist ” in the good opinion of the mess. Every Sat¬ urday night my African friend was allowed to share the cheer of the forecastle, while our captain presented him with a certifi¬ cate of his meritorious deed, and made the paper more palatable by the promise of a liberal bounty in current coin at the end of the voyage.

I now began to feel at ease, and acquire a genuine fondness for sea life. My aptitude for languages not only familiarized me with English, but enabled me soon to begin the scientific study of navigation, in which, I am glad to say, that Captain Solomon Towne was always pleased to aid my industrious efforts.

We touched at St. Helena for supplies, but as Napoleon was still alive, a British frigate met us within five miles of that rock-bound coast, and after furnishing a scant supply of water, bade us take our way homeward.

I remember very well that it was a fine night in July, 1820, when we touched the wharf at Boston, Massachusetts. Captain Townc’s family resided in Salem, and, of course, he was soon on his way thither. The new mate had a young wife in Boston, and he, too, was speedily missing. One by one, the crew sneaked off in the darkness. The second mate quickly found an excuse for a visit in the neighborhood •$ so that, by midnight, the Galatea, with a cargo valued at about one hundred and twenty thousand dollars, was intrusted to the watchfulness of a stripling cabin-boy.

I do not say it boastfully, but it is true that, whenever I

TWENTY YEARS OP AN AFRICAN SLAVER.

have been placed in responsible situations, from the earliest period of my recollection, I felt an immediate stirring of that pride which always made me equal, or at least willing, for the required duty. All night long I paced the deck. Of all the wandering crowd that had accompanied me nearly a year across many seas, I alone had no companions, friends, home, or sweet¬ heart, to seduce me from my craft; and I confess that the senti¬ ment of loneliness, which, under other circumstances, might have unmanned me at my American greeting, was stifled by the min¬ gled vanity and pride with which I trod the quarter-deck as tem¬ porary captain.

When dawn ripened into daylight, I remembered the stirring account my shipmates had given of the beauty of Boston, and I suddenly felt disposed to imitate the example of my fellow-sail¬ ors. Honor, however, checked my feet as they moved towards the ship’s ladder ; so that, instead of descending her side, I closed the cabin door, and climbed to the main-royal yard, to see the city at least, if I could not mingle with its inhabitants; I expected to behold a second Calcutta; but my fancy was not gra¬ tified. Instead of observing the long, glittering lines of palaces and villas I left in India and on the Tuscan shore, my Italian eyes were first of all saluted by dingy bricks and painted boards. But, as my sight wandered away from the town, and swept down both sides of the beautiful bay, filled with its lovely islands, and dressed in the fresh greenness of summer, I confess that my memory and heart were magically carried away into the heart of Italy, playing sad tricks with my sense of duty, when I was abruptly restored to consciousness by hearing the heavy foot¬ fall of a stranger on deck.

The intruder—as well as I could see from aloft—seemed to be a stout, elderly person I did not delay to descend the rat¬ lins, but slid down a back-stay, just in time to meet the stran¬ ger as he approached our cabin. My notions of Italian manners did not yet permit me to appreciate the greater freedom and social liberty with which I have since become so familiar in America, and it may naturally be supposed that I was rather peremptory in ordering the inquisitive Bostonian to leave the ship. 1 was in command—in my first command; and so uncere¬ monious a visit was peculiarly annoying. Nor did the conduct of the intruder lessen my anger, as, quietly smiling at my order, he continued moving around the ship, and peered into every nook and corner. Presently he demanded whether I was alone ? My self-possession was quite sufficient to leave the question un¬ answered ; but I ordered him off again, and, to enforce my com¬ mand, called a dog that did not exist. My ruse, however, did not succeed. The Yankee still continued his examination, while I followed closely on his heels, now 7 and then twutching the long skirts of his surtout to enforce my mandate for his departure.

During this promenade, my unwelcome guest questioned me about the captain’s health,—about the mate,—as to the cause of his dismissal.—about our cargo,—and the length of our voyage. Each new question begot a shorter and more surly answ’er. I v r as perfectly satisfied that he was not only a rogue, but a most impudent one ; and my Eranco-Italian temper strained almost to bursting.

By this time, we approached the house which covered the steering-gear at the ship’s stern, and in which were buckets con¬ taining a dozen small turtles, purchased at the island of Ascen¬ sion, where w r e stopped to w r ater after the refusal at St. Helena. The turtle at once attracted the stranger’s notice, and he promptly offered to purchase them. I stated that only half the lot be¬ longed to me, but that I would sell the whole, provided he was able to pay. In a moment, my persecutor drew forth a w 7 ellworn pocket-book, and handing me six dollars, asked whether I was satisfied with the price. The dollars were unquestionable gleams, if not absolute proofs, of honesty, and I am sure my heart would have melted had not the purchaser insisted on taking one of the buckets to convey the turves home. Now, as these charming implements were part of the ship’s pride, as well as ' property, and lmd been laboriously adorned by our marine artists with a spread eagle and the vessel’s name, I resisted the demand, offering, at the same time, to return the money. But my turtledealer was not to be repulsed so easily; his ugly smile still sneered in my face as lie endeavored to push me aside and drag

TWENTY YEARS OF AN AFRICAN SLAVE!?, the bucket from my hand. I soon found that he was the stronger of the two, and that it would be impossible for me to rescue my bucket, fairly; so, giving it a sudden twist and shake, I contrived to upset both w T ater and turtles on the deck, thus sprinkling the feet and coat-tails of the veteran with a copious ablution. To my surprise, however, the tormentor’s cursed grin not only con¬ tinued but absolutely expanded to an immoderate laugh, the uproariousness of which was increased by another suspicious Bosto¬ nian, who leaped on deck during our dispute. By this time I was in a red heat. My lips were white, my cheeks in a blaze, and my eyes sparks. Beyond myself with ferocious rage, I gnashed my teeth, and buried them in the hand which I could not otherwise release from its grasp on the bucket. In the scramble, I either lost or destroyed part of my bank notes; yet, being conqueror at last, I became clement, and taking up my turtles, once more insisted upon the departure of my annoyers. There is no doubt that 1 larded my language with certain epithets, very current among sailors, most of which are learned more rapidly by foreign¬ ers than the politer parts of speech.

Still the. abominable monster, nothing daunted by my on¬ slaught, rushed to the cabin, and would doubtless have de¬ scended. had not. I been nimbler than he in reaching the doors, against which I placed iny back, in defiance. Here, of course, another battle ensued, enlivened by a chorus of laughter from a crowd of laborers on the wharf. This time I could not bite, yet I kept the apparent thief at bay with my feet, kicking his skills unmercifully whenever he approached, and swearing in the choicest Tuscan.

He who knows any thing of Italian cL racter, especially when it is additionally spiced by French condiments, may imagine the intense rage to which so volcanic a nature as mine was, by this time, fully aroused. Language and motion were nearly exhaust¬ ed. I could neither speak nor strike. The mind’s passion had almost produced the body’s paralysis. Tears began to fall from my eyes : but still lie laughed! At length, I suddenly flung wide the cabin doors, and leaping below at a bound, seized from the rack a loaded musket, with which I rushed upon deck. As soon s

CAPTAIN CANOT; OU, as the muzzle appeared above the hatchway, my tormentor sprang over the ship, and by the time I reached the ladder, I found him on the wharf, surrounded by a laughing and shouting crowd. I shook my head menacingly at the group; and shouldering my firelock, mounted guard at the gangway. It was fully a quarter of an hour that I paraded (occasionally ramming home my mus¬ ket’s charge, and varying the amusement by an Italian defiance to the jesters), before the tardy mate made his appearance on the wharf. But what was my consternation, when I beheld him advance deferentially to my pestilent visitor, and taking :ff his hat, respectfully offer to conduct him on board ! This was a great lesson to me in life on the subject of “ appearances.” The shabby old individual was no less a personage than the celebrated William Gray, of Boston, owner of the Galatea and cargo, and proprietor of many a richer craft then floating on every sea.

But Mr. Gray was a forgiving enemy. As he left the ship that morning, he presented me fifty dollars, “ in exchange,” he said, “ for the six destroyed in protection of his property; ” and, on the day of my discharge, he not only paid the wages of my voyage, but added fifty dollars more to aid my schooling in scientific navigation.

Four years after, I again met this distinguished merchant at the Marlborough Hotel, in Boston. I was accompanied, on that occasion, by an uncle who visited the United States on a com¬ mercial tour. When my relative mentioned my name to Mr. Gray, that gentleman immediately recollected me, and told my venerable kinsman that he never received such abuse as I bestowed on him in July, 1820 ! The sting of my teeth, he declared, still tingled in his hand, while the kicks I bestowed on his ankles, occasionally displayed the scars they had left on his limbs. He seemed particularly annoyed, however, by some caustic remarks I had made about his protuberant stomach, and forgave the blows but not the language.

My uncle, who was somewhat of a tart disciplinarian, gave ' me an extremely black look, while, in French, he demanded an explanation of my conduct. I knew Mr. Gray, however, better than my relative; and so, without heeding his reprimand, I answered, in English, that if I cursed the ship’s owner on that occasion, it was my debut in the English language on the Ameri¬ can continent; and as my Anglo-Saxon education had been fin¬ ished in a forecastle, it was not to be expected I should be select in my vocabulary. “ Nevertheless,” I added, “ Mr. Gray was so delighted with my accolade , that he valued my defence of his property and our delicious tete-d-tete at the sum of a hundred dollars!” * m

Chapter II

The anecdote told in the last chapter revived my uncle’s recol¬ lection of several instances of my early impetuosity: among which was a rencounter with Lord Byron, while that poet was residing at his villa on the slope of Monte Negro near Leghorn, which he took the liberty to narrate to Mr. Gray.

A commercial house at that port, in which my uncle had some interest, was the noble lord’s banker ;—and, one day, while my relative and the poet were inspecting some boxes recently arrived from Greece, I was dispatched to see them safely deposited in the warehouse. Suddenly, Lord Byron demanded a peucil. My uncle had none with him, but remembering that I had lately been presented one in a handsome silver case, requested the loan of it. Now, as this was my first silver possession, I was somewhat reluctant to let it leave my possession even for a mo¬ ment, and handed it to his lordship with a bad grace. When the poet had made his memorandum, he paused a moment, as if lost in thought, and then very unceremoniously—but, doubtless, in a fit of abstraction—put the pencil in his pocket. If I had already visited America at that time, it is likely that I would have warned the Englishman oi his mistake on the spot; but, as children in the Old World are rather more curbed in their inter¬ course with elders than on this side of the Atlantic, I bore the forgetfulness as well as I could until next, morning. Summoning all my resolution, I repaired without my uncle’s knowledge to the poet’s house at an early hour, and after much difficulty was

TWENTY YEARS OF AN AFRICAN SLAVER.

I admitted to his l’ooiu. He was still in bed. Every body has heard of Byron’s peevishness, when disturbed or intruded on. He demanded my business in a petulant and offensive tone. I replied, respectfully, that on the preceding day I loaned him a silver pencil,—strongly emphasizing and repeating the word silver , —which, I was grieved to say, he forgot to return. Byron reflect¬ ed a moment, and then declared he had restored it to me on the spot! I mildly but firmly denied the fact; while his lordship as sturdily reasserted it. In a short time, we were both in such a passion that Byron commanded me to leave the room. I edged out of the apartment with the slow, defying air of angry boy¬ hood ; but when I reached the door, I suddenly turned, and looking at him with all the bitterness I felt for his uation, called him, in French, “ an English hog ! ” Till then our quarrel had been waged in Italian. Hardly were 'the words out of my mouth when his lordship leaped from the bed, and in the scantiest dra¬ pery imaginable, seized me by the collar, inflicting such a shaking as I would willingly have exchanged for a tertian ague from the Pontine marshes. The sudden air-bath probably cooled his clioler, for, in a few moments, -we found ourselves in a pacific ex¬ planation about the luckless pencil. Hitherto I had. not men¬ tioned my uncle; but the moment I stated the relationship, Byron became pacified and credited my story. After searching his pockets once more ineffectually for the lost silver , he present¬ ed me his own gold pencil instead, and requested me to say why I “ cursed him in French ? ”

“ My father was a Frenchman, my lord,” said I.

“ And your mother ? ”

“ She is an Italian, sir.”

“Ah! no w r onder, then, you called me an ‘ English hog.' The hatred runs in the blood ; you could not help it.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he continued,—still pacing the apartment in his night linen,—“ You don’t like the English, do you, my boy ? ”

“ No,” said I, “ I don’t.’

“ Why ? ” returned Byron, quietly.

“ Because my father died fighting them,” replied I.

“ Then, youngster, you have a right to hate them,” said the poet, as he put me gently out of the door, and locked it on the inside.

A week after, one of the porters of iny uncle’s warehouse offered to sell, at an exorbitant price, what he called “ Lord Byron’s pencil,” declaring that his lordship had presented it to him. My uncle was on the eve of bargaining with the man, when he perceived his own initials on the silver. In. fact, it was my lost gift. Byron, in his abstraction, had evidently mistakeu the porter for myself; so the servant was rewarded with a trifling gratuity, while my virtuoso uncle took the liberty to appropriate the golden relic of Byron to himself, and put me off with the humbler remembrance of his honored name.

These, however, are episodes. Let us return once more to the Galatea and her worthy commander.

Captain Towne retired to Salem after the hands were dis¬ charged, and took me with him to reside in his family until he was ready for another voyage. In looking back through the vista of a stormy and adventurous life, my memory lights on no hap¬ pier days than those spent in this seafaring emporium. Salem, in 1821 , was my paradise. I received more kindness, enjoyed more juvenile pleasures, and found more affectionate hospitality in that comfortable city than I can well describe. Every boy was my friend. No one laughed at my broken English, but on the contrary, all seemed charmed by my foreign accent. People thought proper to surround me with a sort of romantic mystery, for, perhaps, there was a flavor of the dashing dare-devil in my demeanor, which imparted influence over homelier companions Besides this, I soon got the reputation of a scholar. I was con¬ sidered a marvel in languages, inasmuch as I spoke French, Ital¬ ian, Spanish, English, and professed a familiarity with Latin. I remember there was a wag in Salem, who, determining one day to test my acquaintance with the latter tongue, took me into a neighboring druggist’s, where there were some Latin volumes, and handed me one with the request to translate a page, either verbally or on paper. Fortunately, the book he produced was JEsop, whose fables had been so thoroughly studied by me two

TWENTY YEARS OF AN AFRICAN SLAVER.

years before, that I even knew some of them by heart. Still, as I was not very well versed in the niceties of English, I thought it prudent to make my version of the selected fable in Erench ; and, as there was a neighbor who knew the latter language per¬ fectly, my translation was soon rendered into English, and the proficiency of the Italian boy ” conceded

I sailed during five years from Salem on voyages to various parts of the world, always employing my leisure, while on shore and at sea, in familiarizing myself minutely with the practical and scientific details of the profession to which I designed devot¬ ing my life. I do not mean to narrate the adventures of those early voyages, but I cannot help setting down a single anecdote of that fresh and earnest period, in order to illustrate the changes that time and “ circumstances ” are said to work on human character.

In my second voyage to India, I was once on shore with the captain at Quallahbattoo, in search of pepper, when a large proa, or Malay canoe, arrived at the landing crammed with prisoners, from one of the islands. The unfortunate victims were to be sold as slaves. They were the first slaves I had seen ! As the human cargo was disembarked, I observed one of the Malays dragging a handsome young female by the hair along the beach. Cramped by long confinement in the wet bottom of the canoe, the shrieking girl was unable to stand or walk. My blood was up quickly. I ordered the brute to desist from his cruelty; and, as he answered with a derisive laugh, I felled him to the earth with a single blow of my boat-.hook. This impetuous vin¬ dication of humanity forced us to quit Quallahbattoo in great haste; but, at the age of seventeen, my feelings in regard to slavery were very different from what this narrative may disclose them to have become in later days.

When my apprenticeship was over, I made two or three suc¬ cessful voyages as mate, until—I am ashamed to say,—that a “ disappointment ” caused me to forsake my employers, and to yield to the temptations of reckless adventure. This sad and early blight overtook me at Antwerp,—a port rather noted for the backslidings of young seamen. My hard-earned pay soon diminished very sensibly, while I was desperately in love with a Belgian beauty, who made a complete fool of me—for at least three months! From Antwerp, I betook myself to Paris to vent my second “disappointment.” The pleasant capital of la belle France was a cup that I drained at a single draught. Few young men of eighteen or twenty have lived faster. The gaming tables at Frascati’s and the Palais Royal finished my consumptive purse; and, leaving an empty trunk as a recompense for my landlord, I took “ French leave” one fine morning, and hastened to sea.

The reader will do me the justice to believe that nothing but the direst necessity compelled me to embark on board a British, vessel, bound to Brazil. The captain and his wife who accom¬ panied him, were both stout, handsome Irish people, of equal age, but addicted to fondness for strong and flavored drinks.

My introduction on board' was signalized by the ceremonious bestowal upon me of the key of the spirit-locker, with a strict injunction from the commander to deny more than three glasses daily either to his wife or himself. I hardly comprehended this singular order at first, but, in a few days, I became aware of its propriety. About eleven o’clock her ladyship generally ap¬ proached when I was serving out the men’s ration of gin, and requested me to fill her tumbler. Of course, I gallantly com¬ plied. When I returned from deck below with the bottle, she again required a similar dose, which, with some reluctance, I fur¬ nished. At dinner the dame drank porter, but passed off the gin on her credulous husband as water. This system of decep¬ tion continued as long as the malt liquor lasted, so that her lady¬ ship received and swallowed daily a triple allowance of capital grog. Indeed, it is quite astonishing what quantities of the article can sometimes be swallowed by seafaring women. The oddness of their appetite for the cordials is not a little enhanced by the well-known aversion the sex have to spirituous fluids, in every shape, on shore. Perhaps the salt air may have something to do with the acquired relish; but, as I am not composing an