om the debauchery, which,
elsewhere in Africa, was unhappily too common. I have had the honor to
entertain at my table at Cape Mount, not only the ordinary traders of
the coast, but commodores of French squadrons, commanders of British
and American cruisers, governors of colonies, white and colored
missionaries, as well as innumerable merchants of the first
respectability, and I have yet to meet the first of them, in any part
of the world, who can redden my cheek with a blush.

But such was not the case at the Cape after Cain and Curtis became the
pets of the cruisers, and converted the beach into a brothel.[10]

After a brief sojourn at my quarters to repair "The Chancellor," in
which I had come with a cargo from the United States, I hastened
towards Gallinas to dispose of our merchandise. We had been already
boarded by an American officer, who reported us to his superior as a
regular merchantman; yet, such were the malicious representations on
the beach against the vessel and myself, that the Dolphin tarried a
month at the anchorage to watch our proceedings. When I went to the
old mart of Don Pedro, a cruiser dogged us; when I sailed to leeward
of Cape Palmas for oil and ivory, another took charge of our
movements,--anchoring where we anchored, getting under way when we
did, and following us into every nook and corner. At Grand Buttoa, I
took "The Chancellor" within a reef of rocks, and here I was left to
proceed as I pleased, while the British cruiser returned to Cape
Mount.

The fifteenth of March, eighteen hundred and forty-seven, is scored in
my calendar with black. It was on the morning of that day that the
commander who escorted me so warily as far as Buttoa, landed a
lieutenant and sailors at New Florence, and unceremoniously proceeded
to search my premises for slaves. As none were found, the valiant
captors seized a couple of handcuffs, like those in use every where to
secure refractory seamen, and carried them on board to their
commander. Next day, several boats, with marines and sailors, led by a
British captain and lieutenant, landed about noon, and, without
notice, provocation, or even allowing my clerk to save his raiment,
set fire to my brigantine, store-houses, and dwelling.

As I was absent, I cannot vouch for every incident of this
transaction, but I have the utmost confidence in the circumstantial
narrative which my agent, Mr. Horace Smith, soon after prepared under
oath at Monrovia. The marines