' messages on this
side of the Atlantic. I had hardly patience to read it. The gist of it
was, I might not land the captives at Monrovia, but might land them
at Grand Bassa, about a hundred and fifty miles to the eastward; that
Colonel Royal would accompany me with orders to the governor there to
receive them. This was something I had not anticipated, and outside of
my instructions. However, I thought it best to comply with the wishes of
the government of our only colony.

Getting under way we stood to the southward and eastward, taking
advantage of the light land and sea breeze, keeping the coast close
aboard. The colonel had come on board without any impediments, and
I wondered if he intended to make the voyage in his cocked hat,
epaulettes, sword, etc. But soon after we had started he disappeared
and emerged from the cabin bareheaded, barefooted, and without clothing
except a blue dungaree shirt and trousers. Like a provident negro,
having stowed away all his trappings, he appeared as a roustabout on a
Western steamer. But he had not laid aside with his toggery any of his
important and consequential airs. He ran foul of Mr. Block, who called
him Mr. Cuffy, and ordered him to give him a pull with the main sheet.
The colonel complained to me that he was not addressed by his name or
title, and that he was not treated as a representative of his government
should be. I reprimanded Mr. Block, and told him to give the visitor all
his title. "All right, sir, but the colonel must keep off the weather
side of the deck," growled the officer. The cook, the crew, and even the
Kroomen, all took their cue from the first officer, and the colonel's
lot was made most unhappy.

On the third day we reached Grand Bassa, and anchored off the beach
about two miles, along which the surf was breaking so high that any
attempt to land would be hazardous. Toward evening it moderated, and
a canoe with three naked natives came off. One I found could speak a
little English. I told him to say to the governor that I would come on
shore in the morning and see him, and land my cargo at the same time.

The next morning at sunrise we were boarded by a party of natives headed
by one wearing a black hat half covered with a tarnished silver band,
an old navy frock coat, much too small, between the buttons of which
his well-oiled skin showed clearly. A pair of blue flannel trousers
completed his outfit. An interpreter introduced him as King George of
Gra