“Why, now, who do you think they are?” said the admiral.

  “Think!” said I, “why, who should they be but your Yankee cousins?”

  “Why, was you such a damn flat as to believe what I said, eh? Why, their father keeps a shop of all sorts at Philadelphia, and they were going to New York on a visit to some of their relatives, when the ship they were in was taken and brought in here.”

  “Then,” said I, “these are not the bon ton of Philadelphia?”

  “Just as much as Nancy Dennis is the bon ton of Halifax,” said the admiral; “though the uncle, as I told you, is a sensible fellow in his way.”

  “Very well,” said I, “you have caught me for once; but remember, I pay you for it.”

  And I was not long in his debt. Had he not given me this explanation, I should have received a very false impression of the ladies of Philadelphia, and have done them an injustice for which I should never have forgiven myself.

  The time of our sailing drew near. This was always a melancholy time in Halifax; but my last act on shore was one which created some mirth, and enlivened the gloom of my departure. My friend Ned and myself had not yet had an opportunity of paying off Sir Hurricane Humbug for telling tales to Maria, and for his false introduction to myself. One morning we both came out of our rooms at the same moment, and were proceeding to the breakfast parlour, when we spied the admiral performing some experiment. Unfortunately for him, he was seated in such a manner, just clear of a pent-house, as to be visible from our position; and at the same time, the collar of his coat would exactly intersect the segment of a circle described by any fluid, projected by us over this low roof, which would thus act as a conductor into the very pole of his neck.

  The housemaid (these housemaids are always the cause or the instruments of mischief, either by design or neglect) had left standing near the window a pail nearly filled with dirty water, from the wash-hand basins, etcetera. Ned and I looked at each other, then at the pail, and then at the admiral. Ned thought of his Maria: I of my false introduction. Without saying a word we both laid our hands on the pail, and in an instant, souse went all the contents over the admiral.

  “I say, what’s this?” he roared out. “Oh, you damned rascals!”

  He knew it could only be us. We laughed so immoderately, that we had not the power to move or to speak; while the poor admiral was spitting, spluttering, and coughing, enough to bring his heart up.

  “You infernal villains! No respect for a flag officer? I’ll serve you out for this.”

  The tears rolled down our cheeks; but not with grief. As soon as the admiral had sufficiently recovered himself to go in pursuit, we thought it time to make sail. We knew we were discovered; and as the matter could not be made worse, we resolved to tell him what it was for. Ned began,— “How do you do, admiral? you have taken a shower-bath this morning.”

  He looked up, with his teeth clenched— “Oh, it’s you, is it? Yes, I thought it could be no one else. Yes, I have had a shower-bath, and be damned to you, and that sea devil of a friend of yours. Pretty pass the service has come to, when officers of my rank are treated in this way. I’ll make you both envy the tom-cat.”

  “Beware the housekeeper, admiral,” said Ned. “Maria has made it up with me, admiral, and she sends her love to you.”

  “Damn Maria.”

  “Oh, very well, I’ll tell her so,” said Ned.

  “Admiral,” said I, “do you remember when you sent the — to sea in a gale of wind, when I was midshipman of her? Well, I got just as wet that night as you are now. Pray, admiral, have you any commands to the Misses McFlinn?”

  “I’ll tell you when I catch hold of you,” said Sir Hurricane, as he moved upstairs to his room, dripping like Pope’s Lodona, only not smelling so sweet.

  Hearing a noise, the housekeeper came up, and all the family assembled to condole with the humid admiral, but each enjoying the joke as much as ourselves. We, however, paid rather dearly for it. The admiral swore that neither of us should eat or drink in the house for three days; and Ned’s father, though ready to burst with laughter, was forced in common decency to say that he thought the admiral perfectly right after so gross a violation of hospitality.

  I went and dined on board my ship, Ned went to a coffee-house; but on the third morning after the shower, I popped my head into the breakfast parlour, and said —

  “Admiral, I have a good story to tell you, if you will let me come in.”

  “I’d see you damned first, you young scum of a fish-pond. Be off, or I’ll shy the ham at your head.”

  “No, but indeed, my dear admiral, it is such a nice story; it is one just to your fancy.”

  “Well then, stand there and tell it, but don’t come in, for if you do—”

  I stood at the door and told him the story.

  “Well, now,” said he, “that is a good story, and I will forgive you for it.” So with a hearty laugh at my ingenuity, he promised to forgive us both, and I ran and fetched Ned to breakfast.

  This was the safest mode we could have adopted to get into favour, for the admiral was a powerful, gigantic fellow, that could have given us some very awkward squeezes. The peace was very honourably kept, and the next day the ship sailed.

  Chapter Twenty Five.

  They turned into a long and wide street, into which not a single living figure appeared to break the perspective. Solitude is never so overpowering as when it exists among the works of man. In old woods, or on the tops of mountains, it is graceful and benignant, for it is a home; but where thick dwellings are, it wears a ghost-like aspect. Inesilla.

  We were ordered to look-out for the American squadron that had done so much mischief to our trade; and directed our course, for this purpose, to the coast of Africa. We had been out about ten days, when a vessel was seen from the mast-head. We were at that time within about one hundred and eighty leagues of the Cape de Verd Islands. We set all sail in chase, and soon made her out to be a large frigate, who seemed to have no objection to the meeting, but evidently tried her rate of sailing with us occasionally: her behaviour left us no doubt that she was an American frigate, and we cleared for action.

  The captain, I believe, had never been in a sea-fight, or if he had, he had entirely forgotten all he had learned; for which reason, in order to refresh his memory, he laid upon the capstan-head the famous epitome of John Hamilton Moore, now obsolete, but held at that time to be one of the most luminous authors who had ever treated on maritime affairs, John, who certainly gives a great deal of advice on every subject, has, amongst other valuable directions, told us how to bring a ship into action according to the best and most approved methods, and how to take your enemy afterwards if you can. But the said John must have thought red-hot shot could be heated by a process somewhat similar to that by which he heated his own nose, or he must entirely have forgotten “the manners and customs in such cases used at sea,” for he recommends, as a prelude or first course to the entertainment, a good dose of red-hot shot, served up the moment the guests are assembled; but does not tell us where the said dishes are to be cooked. No doubt whatever that a broadside composed of such ingredients, would be a great desideratum in favour of a victory, especially if the enemy should happen to have none of his own to give in return.

  So thought his lordship, who, walking up to the first lieutenant, said: —

  “Mr Thingamy, don’t you think red-hot what-do-ye-call-ums should be given in the first broadside to that thingamybob?”

  “Red-hot shot, do you mean, my lord?”

  “Yes,” said his lordship; “don’t you think they would settle his hash?”

  “Where the devil are we to get them, my lord?” said the first lieutenant, who was not the same that wanted to fight me for saying he was as clever a fellow as the captain: that man had been unshipped by the machinations of Toady.

  “Very true,” said his lordship.

  We now approached the stranger very fast, when to our great mortification she proved to be an English frigate; made the private signal; it was answered; showed her number, we showed ours, and her captain being junior officer came on board, to pay his respects and show his order. He was three weeks from England, brought news of a peace with France, and, among other treats, a navy list, which, next to bottle of London porter, is the greatest luxury to a sea officer in a foreign climate.

  Greedily did we all run over this interesting little book, and among the names of the new-made commanders, I was overjoyed to find my own: the last on the list, to be sure, but that I cared not for. I received the congratulations of my mess-mates. We parted company with the stranger, and steered for the island of St. Jago, our captain intending to complete his water in Port Praya Bay, previous to a long cruise after the American squadron.

  We found here a slave-vessel in charge of a naval officer, bound to England; and I thought this a good opportunity to quit, not being over anxious to serve as a lieutenant when I knew I was a commander. I was also particularly anxious to return to England for many reasons, the hand of my dear Emily standing at the head of them. I therefore requested the captain’s permission to quit the ship; and as he wished to give an acting order to one of his own followers, he consented. I took my leave of all my mess-mates, and of my captain, who, though an unfeeling coxcomb, and no sailor, certainly had some good points about him: in fact, his lordship was a gentleman; and had his ship fallen in with an enemy, she would have been well fought, as he had good officers, was sufficiently aware of his own incapability, would take advice, and as a man of undaunted bravery was not to be surpassed in the service.

  On the third day after our arrival the frigate sailed. I went on board the slaver, which had no slaves on board except four to assist in working the vessel; she was in a filthy state, and there was no inn on shore, and of course no remedy. Port Praya is the only good anchorage in the island; the old town of St. Jago was deserted, in consequence of their being only an open roadstead before it, very unsafe for vessels to lie it. The town of Port Praya is a miserable assemblage of mud huts; the governor’s house, and one more, are better built, but they are not so comfortable as a cottage in England. There were not ten Portuguese on the island, and above ten thousand blacks, all originally slaves; and yet everything was peaceable, although fresh arrivals of slaves came every day.

  It was easy to distinguish the different races; the Yatoffes are tall men, not very stoutly built; most of them are soldiers. I have seen ten of them standing together, the lowest not less than six feet two or three inches. The Foulahs, from the Ashantee country are another race; they are powerful and muscular, ill-featured, badly disposed, and treacherous. The Mandingoes are a smaller race than the others, but they are well disposed and tractable.

  This island of slaves is kept in subjection by slaves only who are enrolled as soldiers, miserably equipped; a cap and a jacket were all they owed to art; nature provided the rest of their uniform. The governor’s orderly alone sported a pair of trousers, and these were on permanent duty, being transferred from one to the other as their turn for that service came on.

  I paid my respects to the governor, who, although a Portuguese, chose to follow the fashion of the island, and was as black as most of his subjects. After a few French compliments, I took my leave. I was curious to see the old town of St. Jago which had been abandoned; and after a hot walk of two hours over uncultivated ground covered with fine goats, which are the staple of the island, I reached the desolate spot.

  It was melancholy to behold; it seemed as if the human race were extinct. The town was built on a wide ravine, running down to the sea; the houses were of stone, and handsome; the streets regular and paved, which proves that it had formerly been a place of some importance; but it is surprising that a spot so barren as this island generally is, should ever have had any mercantile prosperity. Whatever it did enjoy, I should conceive must have been anterior to the Portuguese having sailed round the Cape of Good Hope: and the solidity and even elegance of construction among the buildings justifies the supposition.

  The walls were massive and remained entire; the churches were numerous, but the roofs of them and the dwelling-houses had mostly fallen in. Trees had grown to a considerable height in the midst of the streets, piercing through the pavements and raising the stones on each side; and the convent gardens were a mere wilderness. The cocoa-nut had thrust its head through many a roof, and its long stems through the tops of the houses; the banana luxuriated out of the windows. The only inhabitants of a town capable of containing ten thousand inhabitants, were a few friars, who resided in a miserable ruin which had once been a beautiful convent. They were the first negro friars I had ever seen; their cowls were as black as their faces, and their hair grey and woolly. I concluded they had adopted this mode of life as being the laziest; but I could not discover by what means they could gain a livelihood, for there were none to give them anything in charity.

  The appearance of these poor men added infinitely to the necromantic character of the whole melancholy scene. There was a beauty, a loveliness, in these venerable ruins, which delighted me. There was a solemn silence in the town; but there was a small, still voice, that said to me,— “London may one day be the same — and Paris; and you and your children’s children will all have lived, and had their loves and adventures; but who will the wretched man be that shall sit on the summit of Primrose Hill, and look down upon the desolation of the mighty city, as you, from this little eminence, behold the once flourishing town of St. Jago?”

  The goats were browsing on the side of the hill, and the little kids frisking by their dams. “These,” thought I, “perhaps are the only food and nourishment of these poor friars.” I walked to Port Praya, and returned to my floating prison, the slave-ship. The officer who was conducting her home, as a prize, was not a pleasant man; I did not like him, and nothing passed between us but common civility. He was an old master’s mate, who had probably served his time thrice over; but having no merit of his own, and no friends to cause that defect to be overlooked, he had never obtained promotion: he therefore naturally looked on a young commander with envy. He had only given me a passage home from motives which he could not resist; first, because he was forced to obey the orders of my late captain; and, secondly, because my purse would supply the cabin with the necessary stock of refreshments, in the shape of fruit, poultry, and vegetables, which are to be procured at Port Praya; he was, therefore, under the necessity of enduring my company.

  The vessel, I found, was not to sail on the following day, as he intended. I therefore took my gun at daybreak, and wandered with a guide, up the valleys, in search of the pintados, or Guinea fowl with which the island abounds; but they were so shy that I could never get a shot at them; and I returned over the hills, which my guide assured me was the shortest way. Tired with my walk, I was not sorry to arrive at a sheltered valley, where the palmetto and the plantain offer a friendly shade from the burning sun. The guide, with wonderful agility, mounted the cocoa-nut-tree, and threw down half a dozen nuts. They were green, and their milk I thought the most refreshing and delicious draught I had ever taken.

  The vesper bells at Port Praya were now summoning the poor black friars to their devotion; and a stir and bustle appeared among the little black boys and girls, of whose presence I was till then ignorant. They ran from the coverts, and assembled near the front of the only cottage visible to my eye. A tall elderly negro man came out, and took his seat on a mound of turf, a few feet from the cottage; he was followed by a lad, about twenty years of age, who bore in his hand a formidable cow-skin. For the information of my readers, I must observe that a cow-skin is a large whip, made like a riding whip out of the hide of the hippopotamus, or sea-cow, and is proverbial for the severity of punishment it is capable of inflicting. After the executioner, came, with slow and measured steps, the poor little culprits, five boys and three girls, who, with most rueful faces, ranged themselves rank and file, before the old man.

  I soon perceived that the hands were turned up for punishment; but the nature of the offence I had yet to learn; nor did I know whether any order had been given to strip. With the boys this would have been supererogatory, as they were quite naked. The female children had on cotton chemises, which they slowly and reluctantly rolled up, until they had gathered them close under their armpits.

  The old man then ordered the eldest boy to begin his Pater Noster; and simultaneously the whipper-in elevated his cow-skin by way of encouragement. The poor boy watched it, out of the corner of his eye, and then began, “Pattery Nobstur, qui, qui, qui—” (here he received a most severe lash from the cow-skin bearer)— “is in silly,” roared the boy, as if the continuation had been expelled from his mouth by the application of external force in an opposite direction— “sancty fisheter nom tum, adveny regnum tum, fi notun tas, ta ti, tu, terror,” roared the poor fellow, as he saw the lash descending on his defenceless back.

  “Terror, indeed,” thought I.

  “Pannum Nossum quotditty hamminum da nobs holyday, e missy nobs, debitty nossa si cut nos demitti missibus debetenibas nossimus e, ne, nos hem-duckam in, in, in, temptationemum, sed lilibery nos a ma-ma—” Here a heavy lash brought the very Oh! that was “caret” to complete the sentence.

  My readers are not to suppose that the rest of the class acquitted themselves with as much ability as their leader, who, compared to them, was perfectly erudite; the others received a lash for every word, or nearly so the boys were first disposed of, in order, I suppose that they might have the full benefit of the applicant’s muscles; while the poor girls had the additional pleasure of witnessing the castigation until their turn came; and that they were aware of what awaited them was evident, from the previous arrangement and disposition of dress, at the commencement of the entertainment. The girls accordingly came up one after another to say their Ave Maria, as more consonant to their sex; but I could scarcely contain my rage when the rascally cow-skin was applied to them, or my laughter when, smarting under its lash, they exclaimed, “Benedicta Mulieribus,” applying their little hands with immoderate pressure to the afflicted part.