CAPTAIN CANOT -- BRANTZ MAYER (1854) (Episode 182/376)

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CHAPTER XXIX.

When the land-breeze died away, it fell entirely calm, and the sea
continued an unruffled mirror for three days, during which the
highlands remained in sight, like a faint cloud in the east. The
glaring sky and the reflecting ocean acted and reacted on each other
until the air glowed like a furnace. During night a dense fog
enveloped the vessel with its clammy folds. When the vapor lifted on
the fourth morning, our look-out announced a sail from the mast-head,
and every eye was quickly sweeping the landward horizon in search of
the stranger. Our spies along the beach had reported the coast clear
of cruisers when I sailed, so that I hardly anticipated danger from
men-of-war; nevertheless, we held it discreet to avoid intercourse,
and accordingly, our double-manned sweeps were rigged out to impel us
slowly towards the open ocean. Presently, the mate went aloft with his
glass, and, after a deliberate gaze, exclaimed: "It is only the
Dane,--I see his flag." At this my crew swore they would sooner fight
than sweep in such a latitude; and, with three cheers, came aft to
request that I would remain quietly where I was until the Northman
overhauled us.

We made so little headway with oars that I thought the difference
trifling, whether we pulled or were becalmed. Perhaps, it might be
better to keep the hands fresh, if a conflict proved inevitable. I
passed quickly among the men, with separate inquiries as to their
readiness for battle, and found all--from the boy to the
mate--anxious, at every hazard, to do their duty. Our breakfast was as
cold as could be served in such a climate, but I made it palatable
with a case of claret.

When a sail on the coast of Africa heaves in sight of _a slaver_, it
is always best for the imperilled craft, especially if gifted with
swift hull and spreading wings, to take flight without the courtesies
that are usual in mercantile sea-life. At the present day, fighting
is, of course, out of the question, and the valuable prize is
abandoned by its valueless owners. At all times, however,--and as a
guard against every risk, whether the cue be to fight or fly,--the
prudent slaver, as soon as he finds himself in the neighborhood of
unwholesome canvas, puts out his fire, nails his forecastle, sends his
negroes below, and secures the gratings over his hatches.

. . .