I was a boatsteerer some years ago on a New Bedford whaler--the
_Aaron Burr_--we had serious trouble with about thirty Portuguese
negroes we picked up off the coast of Brazil. They were in two boats,
and were deserters from a Brazilian man-of-war, which had gone ashore
off Santos. Many of our men were down with fever of some sort, and
these black gentry (who were all armed with knives), thinking that
the after-guard was not able to cope with them, came aft and told our
skipper that if he did not give them all the liquor they wanted they
would throw him overboard, set fire to the ship, and go ashore again. He
seemed to be very much frightened--he was an undersized, quiet man--and
begged them to go on deck and remain there whilst he and the steward and
such of the officers who were not ill with fever would get up a keg of
rum from the lazzarette. Then--he spoke Spanish pretty well--he asked
them not to be too hard on him. He would treat them as gentlemen, &c.,
and, with apparently trembling hands, he gave them boxes of cigars, and
addressed them as if they were caballeros of the highest rank whom he
was delighted to honour. Some of them cursed him for an Americano, but
the majority were too hugely elated at the prospect of a keg of ram to
say more to him than to hurry up with it.

"He did hurry up with a vengeance, for in five minutes he and the mate
had each loaded a bomb gun with a heavy charge of sheet-lead slugs. They
rushed on deck together, and with a warning cry to our men to get out
of the way, they fired into the negroes, who were squatted about on the
main hatch smoking their cigars and waiting for the rum. The effect was
something terrifying, for although none of them were killed, fully
half of them were wounded, and their groans and yells were something
horrible. We did not give them much time to rally, for all of us who
were well enough made a rush, and with belaying-pins and anything else
which came to our hands drove them over the side into their boats."

"Then get some of those bomb-guns, captain, by all means. I think I have
seen one--a thing like a bloated blunderbuss without the bell mouth."

"That's it," said Frewen with a laugh; "it is not a handsome weapon, but
we whalemen do not go in for 'objects of bigotry and virtue.' A bomb-gun
is made for a practical purpose--the stock is almost solid metal, and
altogether it is no light weight."

During the following two weeks both Frewen and the agent were