chapter. It is true that this tragedy might
never have happened within the territory of the rival kinsmen had not
the temptations of slave-trade been offered to their passionate
natures; yet the event was so characteristic, not only of slave-war
but of indigenous barbarity, that I dared not withhold it in these
sketches of my life.

Light was not gleaming over the tops of the forest next morning before
I was on the beach ready to embark for Gallinas. But the moon was
full, and the surf so high that my boat could not be launched. Still,
so great were my sufferings and disgust that I resolved to depart at
all hazards; and divesting myself of my outer garments, I stepped into
a native canoe with one man only to manage it, and dashed through the
breakers. Our provisions consisted of three bottles of gin, a jug of
water, and a basket of raw cassava, while a change of raiment and my
accounts were packed in an air-tight keg. Rough as was the sea, we
succeeded in reaching the neighborhood of Gallinas early next morning.
My Spanish friends on shore soon detected me with their excellent
telescopes, by my well-known cruising dress of red flannel shirt and
Panama hat; but, instead of running to the beach with a welcome, they
hoisted the black flag, which is ever a signal of warning to slavers.

My Krooman at once construed the telegraphic despatch as an intimation
that the surf was impassable. Indeed, the fact was visible enough even
to an uninstructed eye, as we approached the coast. For miles along
the bar at the river's mouth, the breakers towered up in tall masses,
whitening the whole extent of beach with foam. As our little canoe
rose on the top of the swell, outside the rollers, I could see my
friends waving their hats towards the southward, as if directing my
movements towards Cape Mount.

In my best days on the coast I often swam in perilous seasons a far
greater distance than that which intervened betwixt my boat and the
shore. My companions at Gallinas well knew my dexterity in the water,
and I could not comprehend, therefore, why they forbade my landing,
with so much earnestness. In fact, their zeal somewhat nettled me, and
I began to feel that dare-devil resistance which often goads us to
acts of madness which make us heroes if successful, but fools if we
fail.

It was precisely this temper that determined me to hazard the bar;
yet, as I rose on my knees to have a better view of the approaching
peril, I saw the bla