While as I could not help doing, I turned my gaze at her I saw far away in the horizon the white sail of a vessel. "A sail! a sail!" I shouted; "we are saved Paul, we are saved."

Paul looked up for a minute. "Yes," he said, "she standing this way. The burning ship bring her down to us. She big schooner. May be good, may be bad! though."



CHAPTER SIX.

A CALM COMES ON, AND WE REMAIN DURING THE NIGHT SUFFERING FROM HUNGER AND THIRST.—PAUL TELLS ME HIS HISTORY, AND I FIND THAT HE IS CHEEBO, OF WHOM I AM IN SEARCH.—HIS JOY AT HEARING OF HIS MOTHER MAKES HIM REGARDLESS OF THE SUFFERING WE ARE ENDURING—THE SCHOONER PICKS US UP.— PAUL SUSPECTS HER CHARACTER.—BEFORE LONG WE DISCOVER THAT SHE IS A SLAVER, AND SHE RUNS UP A RIVER TO RECEIVE HER CARGO ON BOARD.

Scarcely had we caught sight of the stranger than the wind entirely fell and she lay totally becalmed. The smooth sea enabled us to free the boat completely, and now we had nothing to do but to sit down and watch the burning brigantine.

First one of the tall masts, completely encircled by the flames, fell hissing into the water. The other, after standing awhile in solitary grandeur, formed a fiery pinnacle to the flaming hull below.

At length it followed its companion, and then the fire ran riot fore and aft. Sometimes wearied by the sight, I put my hands before my eyes to shut it out, but then I could not help thinking of the sad fate of the poor captain, whose body lay on its funeral pile on board.

"Ah, he happy now," whispered Paul. He had also been thinking of him. "He say he love Jesus; he trust to Jesus, no fear for him."

Paul's words brought consolation to my heart. Our own condition might well have made me depressed, yet I felt supported by the strong faith of my companion in a way I formerly should not have thought possible.

We had no food, and not a drop of fresh water to quench our burning thirst.

Some way off we could see pieces of burnt spars floating about. I thought of trying to paddle the boat up to them with our hands, hoping to find some which might serve as oars, and enable us to reach the schooner in the distance. I quickly, however, gave up the attempt, for scarcely had I put my hand into the water than I saw a huge pair of jaws darting towards it, and I had just time to pull it out before they made a snap close to me, which would, in a moment, have bitten it off.

Night soon came down upon us as we thus sat utterly helpless in our boat, while the sea around was lighted up with the flames of the burning vessel. Loaded as she was almost entirely with combustible materials, they burned with unusual fierceness. Her whole interior, as the sides were burned away, appeared one glowing mass, surrounded by a rim of flames which fed upon her stout timbers and planking. Suddenly there came a loud hissing noise across the water, then a dense vapour ascended from her midst, and in an instant after all was darkness. The remains of the "Chieftain" had sunk into the depths of ocean.

"I am afraid our chance of being picked up by the schooner is gone," I observed to Paul. "She very probably, when the breeze comes, will stand away from us."

"There is no such thing as chance, Massa Harry," he answered. "If it is God's will she come, if not, He find some other way to save us. Let us pray that He do what He judge best."

Thereon Paul, without waiting for my reply, knelt down in the bottom of the boat and lifted up his voice in prayer to our merciful Father in heaven, for that protection which we more than ever felt we so much needed. I imitating his example, heartily joined him.

As we sat in the boat side by side talking together, for neither of us were inclined to sleep, I asked him how it was that he, a common sailor, had become so well instructed a Christian?

"Ah, Massa Harry, I knew about Jesus when I quite a little boy; but only a few years ago I learned to love Him and trust to Him as I now do," he answered. "I'll tell you how dis was. When I piccaniny I hab kind fader and moder, and we live in Yourba country, in our own village, far away. One night the enemy come and attack the village, and carry off many men and women and children. My fader take me up and run away into de wood, my moder follow, but she fall, and the slaver people catch her and take her with the rest. My poor fader, like to break him heart, but for my sake he live and hide away till the slaver people gone. He tried to find my moder, but from dat day to dis he neber hear of her more. After some time it was told him dat a great many people go to a place called Abeokuta, and dat dere day built town, and let no slave-takers come near them, so my fader go there, and we live there, and work and grow rich, and many more people come, and we not fear any of our enemies. All the people were heathens, and prayed to the fetish.

"After some time many people come from Sierra Leone, who had been carried off in slavers, and taken by the English cruisers, and landed there. They find relations and friends in Abeokuta, and so they stop to live with us. Some of them had learned in Sierra Leone about God and His Son Jesus Christ, and they tell us, and many of the people of Abeokuta say they will no longer pray to the fetish, but will only pray to God, and love Him and serve Him. My fader was among these, and now the only thing he cared for in life was to listen to the missionaries and hear about Jesus Christ. Only one thing made him unhappy, that was that my poor moder should not learn the truth of the gospel. He knew that she was carried away by bad people, and he afraid that she become bad like them; but he pray day and night that God in His mercy would make known to her His great love, as He had made it known to him.

"Oh, if I could but hear that she had become a Christian how happy I should be!" he used to say to me over and over again. "Paul," that was the name I had got when I was christened, "you must pray for your moder wid me, and I am sure that God will hear our prayers."

"At last my fader grew sick, and he made me promise, if he died, that I would go to Sierra Leone and try to find if my moder was dere. My fader grew worse and worse, but still him very happy, and taking my hand, he say, 'Paul, you must meet me in heaven, and you must bring your moder there, and then we all live together for ever and ever, where there are no more slave-dealers, and no more war, and no more cruelty,' and den him die.

"After dat I set off to go to Sierra Leone, but slave-dealer catch me on the way and take me on board slaver, with nearly four hundred other black fellows, and we were all put down in ship's hold, and carried away to the coast of Brazil. But English man-of-war catch the slaver. The English captain find out that I was a Christian, and so he ask me if I like to serve on board de man-of-war, and I say yes. The captain, good Christian man himself, so I learn to speak English, and he taught me to read Bible, and I learn still more about Jesus than I did in Abeokuta. At last we got back to Sierra Leone, and then I remember my promise to my father, and while I on shore trying to learn about my moder, the ship sail away, and no more come back. I no hear about my moder, and have no money, so I ship on board merchant vessel, and after sailing in her along the coast for some time I go on board another, and then I again go on board man-of-war. At last I get back to Sierra Leone, and fall very sick, and sent to hospital, then a good missionary come to me and I tell him what my fader had said, and he ask me if I think I going to heaven, and then he tell me more about the right way, and pray with me. And now I find Jesus as my own Saviour and Friend, and love Him, and wish to serve Him, and obey Him. Then the wish came into my heart to preach the gospel to my countrymen, but I, still poor and very ignorant, and I thought if I could make two or three voyages and save money, I would go to England and study there, and be better able to declare the glad tidings of salvation, and that the people would more willingly listen to me.

"It was on the second trip I made that the vessel I was in was wrecked not far from the mouth of the Bonny, and I was making my way with some of those who had escaped with me to Sierra Leone when Captain Willis engaged me to serve on board the 'Chieftain.'"

While Paul was giving me this sketch of his history an idea had forcibly taken possession of my mind. "Tell me," I exclaimed suddenly, "what was your name before you were christened?"

"Cheebo," he answered.

"And your father's name," I inquired eagerly.

"My father, him called Quamino," he said, in a surprised tone.

"Oh Paul!" I cried out, seizing his hand, "I have indeed then good news for you. Your father's and your prayers have been answered, for I can assure you that your mother is a true and faithful Christian. I have known her all my life, her name she has told me was Ambah, and that she was torn away from her husband and child as your mother was from you."

"Yes, yes, Ambah was my mother's name, and did she tell you that her husband's name was Quamino, and their piccaniny was called Cheebo?" he asked, almost gasping for breath.

"Those were the very names she gave me, and I wrote them in my pocket book so that I might not forget them." I answered.

"Oh, Massa Harry, that is indeed joyful news," he cried out. "Then I and my mother and father will all meet in heaven, Praise God! I now not fear what man can do unto me."

It would be difficult to do justice to the feeling displayed by Paul, even were I to repeat all he said, his piety, his gratitude, and his joy. He could talk of nothing else during the night. He seemed to be insensible to hunger and thirst, and to forget altogether the dangerous position in which we were placed. Now he kneeled down in prayer, now he gave vent to his feelings in a hymn of praise. I could not help sympathising with him, and rejoicing that I had been the means of giving him the information which made him so happy. Still I must confess that I myself suffered not a little from the pangs of hunger, and would have given much for a glass of cold water.

When morning dawned the schooner was still in sight. I looked anxiously round for the sign of a breeze, hoping that if it did come the stranger would stand towards us. At all events it seemed probable that having seen the burning vessel those on board, in common humanity, would sail over the spot where she had been, on the chance of picking up any of her crew who might have escaped. Paul, however, did not seem to wish this as much as I did. I saw him narrowly watching the vessel, then he shook his head as if he did not like her looks.

The sun rose high in the sky, and beat down on our heads. My thirst became intolerable, and whatever might be the character of the stranger, I could not help longing that she would pick us up. The breeze came at last, her sails filled. How eagerly I watched her.

"She is standing towards us," I cried out, "we must soon be seen." I stood up on a thwart and waved a handkerchief.

"Better not Massa Harry," said Paul, but I did not heed him.

The schooner came on rapidly. Again I waved my handkerchief, and held it between my two hands, so that it might flutter in the breeze. The stranger approached. She was a fine large square topsail schooner, with a black hull and taunt raking masts. She rounded to close to us, so that she could drop down to where our boat lay.

A rope was hove to us, and I clambered up her side, Paul following me. We were both so weak when we reached her deck that we could scarcely stand. I pointed to my mouth, just able to murmur, "water! water!"

"Si, si, aqua aqua," said a man, who appeared to be an officer; when one of the men dipped a mug into a cask on deck, and brought it to us. I took part of the contents then handed it to Paul; but the seaman signed to me to drain it myself, casting, I thought, a contemptuous glance at my negro companion. However, he brought another cup full, and even though I emptied it to the bottom, still my thirst was scarcely quenched.

An officer now appeared from below, and addressing me in English, asked me how I came to be in the boat. I told him exactly what had occurred.

"It is fortunate for you that we picked you up, for another vessel might not pass this way for days to come," he observed. "But what a pity so rich a cargo should have been lost."

The unhappy fate of the poor captain did not seem to concern him much.

I could not make out the character of the vessel.

She was Spanish, I guessed, and her officers and crew appeared smart active fellows; and though she looked in some respects like a man-of-war, she certainly was not one. Her hatches were off, and as far as I could judge there was nothing to show that she was a slaver.

The officer who had spoken to me finding that I was a young gentleman, politely invited me down into the cabin, telling Paul that he might go forward among the men. Paul thanked him, and took advantage of the permission granted him. The officers were going to breakfast, and I was very thankful when they invited me to join them. Altogether they treated me very civilly.

I found an opportunity of speaking to Paul during the day.

"Bad vessel this," he whispered. "Dey put you on shore soon Massa Harry, and so no harm come to you, but I fear they make me slave, and I no get back to see my moder. Still I pray God that He find a way for escape."

I had too much reason soon afterwards to know that Paul was right in his conjectures.

The next day we came in sight of a large vessel. Signals were exchanged, and we hove-to near each other. The boats were then actively engaged in bringing numerous articles on board the schooner—arms and ammunition, and cutlery, and Manchester goods, and farinha (the meal on which slaves on board ship are fed), and cases which I found contained slave shackles. There was no secret indeed made about the matter.

The schooner having taken her cargo on board, the other vessel sailed away while we stood towards the coast. The carpenters were busily employed in fitting an additional deck in the hold, and Paul told me that it was called the slave deck, and that the slaves we were to take on board would be seated along it, packed close together side by side, and that they would thus be kept during the whole run to the Brazils, or wherever the schooner was bound with her hapless freight.

"You see what this vessel is," said the officer who had spoken to me in English. "We have saved your life, and must exact a promise from you not to appear as a witness against any one on board should you at any future period be called on to do so. Let me advise you indeed not to take notice of anything that occurs on board and it will be the better for you. We do not wish to harm you, but there are those among us who hold human life very cheap, and they are not likely to stand on ceremony should you interfere with their proceedings."

I replied that I was very grateful to him and the other officers for treating me kindly, and that I only desired to be put on board an English trader, in which I could work a passage home, "and I hope," I added, "that my black companion will be allowed to accompany me."

"As to that I can make no promise," he answered. "The captain will decide the matter; but, I have no doubt, that if we fall in with an English trader you will be allowed to go on board her."

A bright look-out was kept from the mast-head, and twice the schooner altered her course to avoid a sail seen in the distance. At length we came off the mouth of a river. A signal was made from the shore. With a fair breeze we ran in, and proceeding up some distance, dropped anchor in a creek, where the schooner lay concealed by the tall trees which grew on its banks.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

I WITNESS THE EMBARKATION OF SLAVES COLLECTED AT THE BARRACOONS, AND THE CRUEL WAY IN WHICH THEY ARE TREATED AND PACKED IN THE HOLD OF THE SLAVER.—UNWILLING TO DESERT PAUL, I REMAIN ON BOARD, AND THE SLAVER PUTS TO SEA.—PAUL IS THREATENED FOR ATTEMPTING TO COMFORT THE SLAVES WITH THE GOSPEL NEWS.—THE SCHOONER RECEIVES MORE SLAVES ON BOARD ALONG THE COAST.—SOME ARE DROWNED COMING OFF—THE SLAVER GETS ON SHORE JUST AS A MAN-OF-WAR IS SEEN IN THE OFFING.—A FOG COMES ON, AND THE SCHOONER'S CREW MAKING DESPERATE EFFORTS TO GET HER OFF, SHE ESCAPES, TO MY BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT, FROM THE MAN-OF-WAR'S BOATS, ALONG THE COAST.

I found myself once more exposed to the pestilential air of an African river. I in vain tried to sleep. All night long I heard the sound of the carpenters at work fitting the slave decks, and fixing the bars across them, to which the captive negroes were to be secured. The crew were employed most of their time in hoisting water casks, and a further supply of farinha, on board.

At length when morning broke I went on deck to breathe the air, which I hoped would be somewhat cooler than that of the calm. Through an opening in the trees I saw several long low sheds with cottages and huts scattered round them, while a number of people were moving about. The door in the end of one of the sheds was thrown open, and there issued forth a long line of black figures, walking two and two, and secured together by iron shackles round their wrists.

They staggered along with unwilling steps, looking round on the trees and distant blue hills, which they were destined never again to see, and even now it seemed to me that could they have wrenched their hands from those iron bonds they would have attempted to strike a blow for freedom, and make their escape into the forest. On either side of them, however, walked ruffianly looking fellows, with pistols in their belts and heavy whips in their hands, with which, if their captives attempted to lag behind, they urged them on. One or two were whites, but most of them were negroes, and seemed to have no scruple in leading their countrymen into captivity.

So long a line came forth that it seemed impossible the building could have held so many human beings. Some were strong men, who cast scowling glances at their guards; others were youths, many mere lads and young boys, and there were a considerable number of women, mostly young, many, indeed, being mere girls. Several of the elder women had infants in their arms, and children of various ages trotted by the sides of others, or clung to their hands. The sad procession came towards the vessel. A bridge had been formed from her deck to the shore. The leading slaves hesitated as they reached it, and refused to move forward till urged on by the lash of their guards.

Their condition had been bad before, but they knew now that they were to be shut down and crowded together in the dark noisome hold of the slave ship. As they arrived on board they were compelled to go below and take their seats on the bare deck, side by side, with their legs secured to the iron bars, and so closely packed that their knees were drawn up almost to their chins. Still, although nearly a hundred had come on board, a considerable portion of the deck remained unoccupied.

I took an opportunity of going on shore, no one interfering with me. As I went through the village I passed a house of some size, in front of which the captain was seated in the verandah with another white man, with whom he appeared to be eagerly bargaining. The latter was, I found, the principle slave-dealer, to whom the sheds or barracoons, in which the slaves were confined, belonged. Going on I looked into one of the barracoons. The heat and odour which proceeded from it made me unwilling to enter. It was full of blacks, seated on narrow benches, with their arms and legs secured to long bars which ran in front of them. Here they had been placed as they were brought down from the interior, and kept in readiness for the arrival of the slaver. This, I suspect, was the gang for whom the captain had been bargaining with their owner, as they were immediately afterwards summoned out and marched down, as the others had been, to the vessel.

While I was still on shore I saw coming through the woods another long line of captives. They had come, apparently, a long distance, for they were mostly foot-sore, and several could scarcely move along; not a few were wounded, and many of the men, and even of the women, bore traces on their backs of the cruel lash which had been inflicted to make them hasten their steps when they had showed any unwillingness to proceed. They were allowed but a short time to rest in the barracoons, and having been fed with farinha, mixed into porridge, were marched down to the ship. They gazed at her with looks of dismay, for they knew that she was to convey them away over the wide ocean they had heard of, but never seen, to an unknown land, where they were to toil, unrequited, for hard task-masters.

I thought of remaining on shore rather than proceed in the slave vessel; but was unwilling to desert Paul, and he had not been allowed to land. I therefore returned, hoping to obtain his release.

"You must remain with us a little longer," said my friend the officer, who spoke English, "and we will land you on another part of the coast, where you are more likely than here to meet with a trader."

I was compelled to comply, indeed I knew by his tone and manner, that I should not be allowed to remain behind.

All the slaves which had been collected in the depot having been received on board, the schooner cast off from the bank, and proceeded down the river. As we crossed the bar the vessel pitched heavily, and shipped several seas. The poor wretches below, as the water rushed down upon them, fancying that they were about to be drowned, gave vent to piercing shrieks and cries. The Spanish crew heard them with perfect indifference, and no one, with the exception of Paul, took the slightest trouble to calm their fears—he managing to slip down into the hold assured them that there was no danger; but he could offer them very little comfort besides as to their prospects in this world. Still he could speak to them of another and a better land, "where the weary are at rest, and the wicked cease from troubling," and where the shackles of slavery are cast aside, and to which the God of mercy invites all His creatures to come and dwell with Him, and be at rest. He was endeavouring to explain to the miserable beings the simple troths of the gospel, when he was overheard by one of the officers, and ordered on deck, with a threat that should he again be found speaking to the slaves he would be shackled along with them.

We ran down the coast and came to an anchorage in-shore. There were numerous huts and several large canoes drawn up on the beach, on which a heavy surf was breaking. In a short time people appeared collecting from all quarters and a canoe came off with a burly negro on board, who, as he climbed up the side was treated with great ceremony. He was, I found, the king of that part of the country, his chief revenue being derived from slave dealing. His business with the captain was quickly concluded. A signal was made from the vessel, and soon afterwards I saw a long line of slaves coming forth from behind a wood which concealed the barracoons where they had been confined. They were marched down to the canoes, and thrust in one after the other in spite of their struggles.

The canoes were now launched, and began to make their way through the surf. Three succeeded in getting alongside, but the fourth was overturned by a heavy roller, and the unfortunate passengers thrown out amid the foaming waters. Some, as if thus glad to escape from their persecutors, sank without making a struggle for life; others clung to the canoe, and a few were either washed back on the beach or picked up by the surrounding canoes, to which the crew had already made their way. Eight or ten human beings thus lost their lives, but the event seemed to cause no concern to the captain or his officers. He had only agreed to pay for those brought off to him in safety. The embarkation continued as before, and we were soon surrounded by canoes full of slaves, who were forthwith hoisted on board and stowed below. Their price, chiefly in goods, was then lowered into the canoes, which returned to the shore with much more caution than they had come out.

Two days afterwards we obtained an other addition to our cargo still further down the coast. On this occasion we brought up in a sheltered bay. Here the slaves were conveyed on large rafts. Every expedition was used in getting them on board, for news had been received that an English cruiser was in the neighbourhood. The moment they were stowed away the anchor was hove-up and sail was made.

As we were going out, and appeared to be clear of the harbour, I heard a grating sound, and felt the vessel's keel touch the ground. At the same moment the look-out from the mast-head gave notice that a sail was in sight in the offing.

Every effort was made to get the schooner off, but she stuck fast. One of the officers had gone aloft with a spy-glass. On his return I observed a look of consternation in the countenance of the captain and his mates. After talking eagerly together one of them went aloft. He remained for sometime with his spy-glass turned towards the stranger, which, in a short time, could be seen clearly from the deck, and from the expressions I heard them utter, I found that she was supposed to be a British man-of-war. I endeavoured to conceal my satisfaction, for I hoped that the unfortunate slaves would be rescued, and that Paul and I might be taken on board her.

It shortly, however, fell perfectly calm, and the spirits of the slaver's crew revived. The tide was rising, anchors were carried out, and desperate efforts were made to heave the vessel off. A report now came from aloft that several boats were approaching from the direction of the cruiser. The Spaniards, on hearing this, began to stamp about the deck, grinding their teeth and shaking their fists towards where the boats were supposed to be, working themselves into a perfect fury. Arms were got up on deck, and the two guns the vessel carried were loaded and run out. The savage cries and oaths, and fierce gestures of the crew, made them look more like demons than men.

I looked anxiously for Paul, fearing that in their fury they might injure him, but he had wisely taken shelter in the berth forward so as to be out of their sight. I had thought of hiding in the cabin where I slept, but felt too anxious to watch the issue of events to do so. Of one thing I felt very sure, that though the Spaniards might fight, the British seamen would soon be in possession of the slaver.

The day was drawing to a close, however, and I began to fear that the boats might not reach the schooner before darkness set in. In a short time too, I observed a thick mist gathering over the land, which rose higher and higher, and came moving towards us. We were soon completely enveloped in it. This seemed to give the slaver's crew great satisfaction, and they again began to talk and laugh in their usual tone, while all the time they continued their exertions to get the vessel off. Lazy as the Spaniards are they can work as hard as any one when they have a sufficient motive to arouse them.

I observed the captain frequently wetting his finger and holding it up, and soon I felt a light breeze blowing from the land. The sails were let fall, and the crew making another desperate effort, the schooner glided away up to her anchors. No time was lost in weighing them. I thought the crew would have shouted to show their satisfaction, but not a sound was uttered. Onward she glided, keeping close in-shore.

My heart sank within me, and my hopes of escaping from the vile slave ship vanished. The lead was kept going. I felt sure that no stranger would venture to stand in so close to the coast as we were doing. On we stood till the Spanish seamen seemed satisfied that they had made good their escape from the boats of the cruiser. As the schooner had by this time nearly a full cargo of slaves, I feared that she would not again touch on the coast, and that I was destined to make a voyage on board the hateful craft across the Atlantic.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE SPANIARDS BELIEVING THE MAN-OF-WAR TO BE FAR AWAY, STEER TO THE WESTWARD.—WE SIGHT HER, AND SHE CHASES US.—CRUEL DEVICE OF THE SLAVER'S CREW TO ASSIST THEIR ESCAPE.—PAUL, AMONG OTHERS, BEING THROWN OVERBOARD THAT THE MAN-OF-WAR MIGHT HAVE TO PICK THEM UP; I FEAR THAT HE HAS BEEN LOST.—MY LIFE PRESERVED BY ONE OF THE OFFICERS, WHEN THREATENED BY THE SLAVER'S CREW.—THE SCHOONER ESCAPES, BUT DISMASTED IN A GALE, AND AGAIN OVERTAKEN.—PAUL AND MY COUSIN JACK COME ON BOARD, AND I JOIN THE CORVETTE AS A MIDSHIPMAN.—RETURNING TO ENGLAND I RESTORE CHEEBO TO HIS MOTHER.—MY ADVENTURES SHOW THAT "ALL WORKS TOGETHER FOR GOOD TO THEM WHO LOVE GOD."—JACK BECOMES A COMMANDER, MARRIES MY SISTER MARY, AND I FIND AMPLE MEANS FOR SUPPORTING THE REST OF MY DEAR SISTERS.

The schooner ran on during the night, keeping the coast close aboard to enjoy the advantage of the land breeze. I managed to get a word with Paul to ask him whether he thought there was a probability of her making her escape. "I pray God for the poor slaves," he answered, "and hope English cruiser still catch her."

As may be supposed a very bright look-out was kept for the cruiser. As the day advanced she was no where to be seen, and the captain, anxious to make as quick a run as possible across the Atlantic, the vessel's head was turned to the westward, the wind still blowing off shore. Still, however, a haze hung over the ocean, sufficiently thick to prevent objects being seen in the far distance. This seemed still further to favour the escape of the slaver.

We had got some distance off the land when the haze lifted, and away to the southward a sail was seen, which the Spaniards at once seemed to know was the British man-of-war. She saw us at the same moment, and crowded all sail in chase. The schooner was put before the wind, which now came from the southward, and every stitch of canvas she could carry was set, men also going aloft with buckets of water to wet the sails.

Again the same scene of impotent rage I had before witnessed was enacted, and the fury of the Spaniards increased as they saw the man-of-war gaining on us, she apparently having more wind than we had.

I, as I had previously done, kept as much as I could out of their way, and tried to prevent any gleam of satisfaction appearing in my countenance.

The man-of-war was a corvette—evidently a powerful and very fast craft, against which the slaver would not have had the shadow of a chance, had even her crew possessed the courage to fight, which I felt very sure, in spite of their bravado, they would not.

The corvette had been bringing the breeze up with her, and now the schooner felt it herself, and began to move more rapidly through the water. She, too, was a fast vessel, and her crew might justly have entertained hopes of escaping. I little thought of the cruel device they were contemplating to aid them in so doing.

At length the man-of-war had got almost near enough to reach the slaver with her bow-chasers. She tried the range of one of them, but the shot fell short. On this the captain turned, with a savage determination in his eye, and spoke to one of the officers. Directly afterwards I saw him descend to the slave deck with two or three of the men, and they quickly returned with one of the unfortunate captives. Instantly the unhappy slave was secured to a plank, and, in spite of his cries and entreaties, hove overboard. As the poor wretch floated astern I could not help recollecting that the sea swarmed with sharks, and that he would probably be seized before many minutes were over by one of the ravenous monsters. I guessed the object of the Spaniards; it was confiding in the humanity of my countrymen that they would heave-to in order to pick up the poor black, should he escape the sharks, and thus allow the schooner to gain ground.

The device answered the expectations of its cruel perpetrators. The corvette hove-to, a boat was lowered, and the slave taken up. The Spaniards seemed delighted with the result of their experiment, and prepared to try it again. Another slave was brought up on deck, and, like the former, hove overboard. Scarcely had he reached the water when a fearful shriek was heard, and the poor wretch and the plank together disappeared below the surface. This, however, did not prevent the Spaniards from again attempting the plan to impede the progress of their pursuer, and three more slaves were brought up.

Just then I heard several of the crew shouting out "El heretico!" and what was my horror to see them dragging Paul aft. He spoke to them in such Spanish as he could command, but uttered no cry, and when he understood their object, walked calmly among them to the gangway.

I could not restrain myself, but ran up to him and implored my English-speaking friend to plead on his behalf.

"Take care my lad, or you may be treated in the same way," was the answer.

"Oh, but he has just heard of his mother, who longs to see him, and I have promised to take him to her," I cried out. "Oh, ask them if any of them have mothers from whom they have been long parted, would they not desire to see them again? Will they not have compassion on my poor friend?"

"Don't grieve for me, Massa Harry," said Paul, while the sailors were lashing him to the plank. "God take care of me. Give my lub to my moder, and tell her I meet her in heaven, and she know me den."

In vain I pleaded. My friend seizing me by the arm, dragged me away, while the savages hove Paul overboard.

"Go into my cabin," he exclaimed, "its your only chance of safety."

I saw, as he dragged me aft, that the Spaniards were preparing to throw several other slaves into the sea; and, as I turned my head, three in rapid succession were thrust through the gangway, secured, as the others had been, to floats.

My friend had not cautioned me without reason, for I heard the crew clamouring for the "Englez." My friend went out to them, and on his return told me that they wished to throw me into the sea, but that he had advised them not to do so lest after all the schooner should be captured, when the captain of the man-of-war would certainly deal more hardly with them for having thus treated a countryman.

I thanked him for interfering as far as I was concerned, but, at the same time, could not help observing that the English captain would consider the crime of throwing any one overboard equally great, whatever the colour of the sufferer.

"Ah, we think little about the life of a black," he answered carelessly.

"So it seems," I said, for I felt utterly horrified at what I had witnessed. A feeling of desperate indifference to my own fate had crept over me. "Poor Paul! that the wretches should have treated you thus," I said to myself. Then I remembered how Paul would have acted, and I prayed that he might be protected, though I confess I had little expectation of his escaping the ravenous jaws of a shark.

So eager was I to ascertain what had happened, that had not my friend locked the door on me, in spite of his warnings, I should have gone out again to watch the progress of the chase. Some time elapsed; I longed again to hear the sound of the corvette's guns, but in vain. The wind had increased, as I could judge by the movement of the vessel; and I at length began to fear that she would after all escape.

Some hours passed away, my friend at length came back. "You are hungry, I dare say," he said, "and you may come into the cabin and have some supper, but it is not safe for you to go on deck, the crew are angry at your having interfered about the black seaman; although our plan has answered, for your good natured-countrymen, by stopping to pick up the negroes, have enabled us to escape them. A few of the wretches were, to be sure, picked off by the sharks."

"Did my friend, the black sailor, escape?" I asked eagerly.

"As to that I cannot say," he answered, "undoubtedly some escaped, or the corvette would not have hove-to so often. But come, the supper is on the table."

I declared that I had no appetite; but he insisted upon my going into the cabin, and said that he should be offended if I did not. "It would be better for you also to put an indifferent face on the matter," he added.

Those of the officers who came to supper were laughing and talking in good spirits, and, as far as I could judge, seemed to be amusing themselves at my expense. I, however, had the wisdom to follow my friend's advice, and showed no signs of annoyance. I confess, too, that the sight of the food quickly restored my appetite.

When supper was over my friend advised me to go back to my cabin. "We shall be far away from the corvette by to-morrow morning, and then you can come on deck if you like," he observed.

As I lay in my berth the dreadful scenes I had witnessed came constantly before my sight, and I kept alternately hoping that Paul might have been saved, and fearing that he was lost. For a long time too it seemed I could not go to sleep. The vessel also was pitching heavily, the sea dashed against her sides, and I could hear the roaring and whistling of the wind in her rigging; it was evidently blowing very hard. At last I dropped off to sleep. I was awakened by a loud crash, and the fearful shrieks and cries which arose from the hold.

No longer heeding my friend's caution, slipping on my clothes, I rushed on deck. The schooner's masts had gone by the board, and she lay helpless on the foaming ocean. The crew were shouting and swearing as they endeavoured to cut away the masts, which were battering against her sides, while ever and anon a heavy sea striking her, swept over her deck, and from the shrieks which came up out of the waters a short distance away to leeward, I had little doubt that several of the people had been washed overboard. Fearing that such might be my fate were I to remain on deck, I hurried back again into the cabin. I knew that nothing could be done till daylight, and that it would be impossible to rig jury-masts until the sea was somewhat smoother. Perhaps before then the slaver and her living freight might be carried down into the depths of ocean. I would not venture to lie down, but sat in the cabin, ready to rush out and make an attempt for my life should such a catastrophe appear imminent.

The night seemed very long. At length I saw daylight through the bull's-eye overhead, and the movement of the vessel was less violent than before. I could no longer restrain my curiosity, and made my way on deck. The crew, much diminished, were sheltering themselves under the bulwarks, while the officers were collected in the after part of the vessel. I saw that their eyes were directed to windward, I looked in the same direction, and there to my infinite satisfaction I caught sight of the corvette standing towards us. I was glad to see my English friend among the officers, but the captain and first mate were gone. They had been carried overboard. I felt that they deserved their fate, terrible as it was.

The corvette soon came up, and hove-to to windward; a boat was lowered and pulled towards us. I watched her eagerly. A lieutenant was steering, and among her crew I observed a black man. I tried to make out his features, but at that distance it was impossible. The hope rose in my breast that he might be Paul.

As the schooner still rolled heavily it was no easy matter for the boat to get alongside without the risk of being swamped. She at length came up under our quarter. I looked anxiously over the bulwarks, and to my joy saw that the black was indeed Paul. He caught sight of me.

"All right Massa Harry," he shouted, "we soon aboard, praise God that you safe."

"Silence!" said the officer, for Paul had forgotten the discipline of a man-of-war in speaking. At that moment I thought I recognised the lieutenant's countenance; yes, I was nearly certain it was my cousin Jack Haultaught, whose yarns, when he was a midshipman, first made me wish to go to sea. He and his crew soon sprang on to the low deck of the schooner, while the boat, with a couple of hands in her, was veered astern.

I first greeted Paul warmly. His joy at seeing me was excessive, for he had been afraid that the slavers would have thrown me overboard as they had him, and as I had not been picked up thought my life had been sacrificed. As my cousin Jack did not know me I had time to talk to Paul.

"Oh Massa Harry we must praise God for all His mercy and goodness to us, what we think going to be very bad for us He make turn out for the best. The captain of the corvette, my old friend, he good Christian man, he say he take me to England with him, and then I see my dear moder, and learn more of the Bible, and then come back and preach the gospel to my poor countrymen."

The hatches, which had hitherto been kept battened down, were now taken off. The five hundred human beings crowded below were evidence of the character of the vessel, and enabled the lieutenant at once to claim her as a prize to Her Majesty's ship "Triton."

I do not wish to dwell on the fearful sight which met our eyes as we looked down below on the mass of humanity jammed, pressed, and huddled together. And oh, the horrible odour which arose from that foul hold! It seemed impossible that human beings could have existed a minute in it, much less the many hours during which those unhappy people had been shut up during the gale. How fearful would have been their sufferings had they been compelled thus to make the passage across the Atlantic. How enormous a proportion of them would have died. As it was, many of them had their limbs broken, and many were sadly crushed and bruised.

At length I went up to the lieutenant and put out my hand. "You don't know me, cousin Jack," I said.

"What, Harry!" he exclaimed, looking at me hard. "I am delighted to see you my boy. The negro sailor told me that there was a young Englishman on board, but I did not expect to find you. You will be welcome on board the 'Triton,' and if you have a fancy for continuing at sea, I think the captain will be able to enter you as a supernumerary, and get you regularly appointed when we return to England."

I told him that above all things it was what I should like.

I now accompanied him to the "Triton," carrying with us the surviving officers of the slaver. They were treated with scant ceremony, but without any undue harshness, on board, and berthed together in a cabin run up on the lower deck. I was, however, able to speak a good word for the officer who had treated me kindly, and been the means of saving my life, and I was pleased to hear the captain thank him, and afterwards the officers, to show their sense of his conduct, invited him to mess with them. He declined doing so, however. He afterwards told my cousin Jack that in consequence of the scenes he had witnessed he had resolved to have nothing more to do with the slave trade.

"It was a great temptation," he said. "I expected to make my fortune in a short time, and that induced me to engage in the accursed traffic."

The corvette now took the schooner in tow. As soon as the sea was calm enough hands were sent on board her to rig jury-masts, and a course was steered for Sierra Leone. The slaver, as may be supposed, was condemned, the slaves liberated, and the whole of them settled in the colony. Paul entered on board the "Triton," and I was placed as a midshipman on her quarter-deck.

We cruised for a short time longer on the coast, and captured another slaver, and then, as the corvette had been her due time on the station, she was ordered home.

Jack, from having been at sea, had not heard of the misfortunes of my family.

As soon as the ship was paid off he insisted on accompanying me and Paul back to Liverpool. We reached the house where I had left my sisters under Mammy's care. Flowers bloomed before the windows, and there was an air of neatness and comfort about the little abode which looked very pleasing.

I begged Jack and Paul to remain outside while I went in to prepare the inmates for their arrival. Mammy opened the door. She seized me in her arms the moment she saw me, and I did not at all mind the kisses she bestowed on my cheeks, though her lips were thick and her black face shrivelled.

"Your sisters up stairs, Massa Harry. They so glad you come back," she exclaimed, and dragged me along. She opened the door where they were seated at work.

"I have brought some strangers to see you," I said, after our greetings were over. "You remember our cousin Jack Haultaught; he insisted on coming, he is a first-rate capital fellow, and a true friend of mine."

"We shall be very glad to see him and to thank him," said Mary and Jane together.

"And I shall be delighted," cried Emily. "I recalled his giving me all sorts of curious things when he came back from his first voyage. I'll run down and ask him in."

"Mammy," I said, feeling very doubtful how I could best prepare her for meeting her son. "You remember the commission you gave me, I did my best to execute it. I asked all the people I met if they knew Cheebo."

"Ah, you no hear of him," said Mammy, with a sigh.

"I did not say that," I answered. "Mammy, you believe that God hears your prayers."

"Yes, Massa Harry, I am sure He does," she said, and then it seemed to flash across her that I had something of interest to communicate about her son.

"You hear of Cheebo, he become Christian, oh say dat, Massa Harry, say dat."

"Yes, Mammy," I answered, taking her hand, "I not only heard of him, but I have seen him; and, Mammy, do you think the joy would not be too much for you if I were to tell you that I hope you will see him too?"

"Oh, he is come! he is come!" exclaimed Mammy.

I made a sign to my sisters to remain with our old nurse, whispering to Mary that I was going to bring up her long lost son. I hurried down stairs, and found that Emily had already invited Jack and his companion into the house. I led Paul to the door, and my sisters slipping out; we left the old woman and her son together.

And now it is time that I should bring my yarn to a conclusion. Jack seemed to find Liverpool a very delightful place; and perhaps it may account for his so doing, when I say that before he went away he asked my sister Mary to marry him. She did not refuse. Soon afterwards he got his promotion, which he well deserved for his activity and zeal during his long service on the African coast.

Through the interest of the captain of the "Triton" I got appointed to a man-of-war brig on that station, where, being pretty well up to the tricks of the slavers, I was instrumental in capturing a number of vessels, and assisting to put down the abominable slave trade. As a good deal of prize money came into my pocket, I had the gratification of sending home considerable sums to my sisters. Mammy's joy, when she found that not only had her son become a Christian, but that her husband had accepted the truth, was full. She willingly parted with Paul when she heard of his wish to become a missionary of the gospel. He returned to Sierra Leone, and after remaining a short time there, went on to Abeokuta, to labour with others in spreading the glad tidings of salvation among the dark-skinned sons of Africa.

THE END