CAPTAIN CANOT -- BRANTZ MAYER (1854) (Episode 191/376)

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CHAPTER XXXI.

I drifted without a word or motion, and almost without breathing,
until the corvette was perfectly obliterated against the hazy horizon.
When every thing was dark around me, save the guiding stars, I put out
the oars and pulled quietly towards the east. At day-dawn I was
apparently alone on the ocean.

My appetite had improved so hugely by the night's exercise, that my
first devotion was to the basket, which I found crammed with bologña
sausages, a piece of salt junk, part of a ham, abundance of biscuit,
four bottles of water, two of brandy, a pocket compass, a jack-knife,
and a large table-cloth or sheet, which the generous doctor had no
doubt inserted to serve as a sail.

The humbled _slaver_ and the _slave_, for the first time in their
lives, broke bread from the same basket, and drank from the same
bottle! Misfortune had strangely and suddenly levelled us on the basis
of common humanity. The day before, he was the most servile of
menials; to-day he was my equal, and, probably, my superior in certain
physical powers, without which I would have perished!

As the sun ascended in the sky, my wound became irritated by exercise,
and the inflammation produced a feverish torment in which I groaned as
I lay extended in the stern-sheets. By noon a breeze sprang up from
the south-west, so that the oars and table-cloth supplied a square
sail which wafted us about three miles an hour, while my boy rigged
an awning with the blankets and boat-hooks. Thus, half reclining, I
steered landward till midnight, when I took in the sail and lay-to on
the calm ocean till morning. Next day the breeze again favored us;
and, by sundown, I came up with the coasting canoe of a friendly
Mandingo, into which I at once exchanged my quarters, and falling
asleep, never stirred till he landed me on the Islands de Loss.

My wound kept me a close and suffering prisoner in a hut on the isles
for ten days during which I despatched a native canoe some thirty five
or forty miles to the Rio Pongo with news of my disaster, and orders
for a boat with an equipment of comforts. As my clerk neglected to
send a suit of clothes, I was obliged to wear the Mandingo habiliments
till I reached my factory, so that during my transit, this dress
became the means of an odd encounter. As I entered the Rio Pongo, a
French brigantine near the bar was the first welcome of civilization
that cheered my heart for near a fortnight. Passing her closely, I
drifted alongside, and begged the commander for a bottle of claret. My
brown skin, African raiment, and savage companions satisfied the
skipper that I was a native, so that, with a sneer, he, of course,
became very solicitous to know "where I drank claret _last_?" and
pointing to the sea, desired me to quench my thirst with brine!

. . .