ok up to the fast young American captains as
types or models of more daring beings. Sometimes he would tell a mildly-
naughty tale as if it were a wild thing. He consulted with me as to
going to Paris and hearing lectures at the University, his education
having been neglected. He had, I was told, experienced a sad loss,
having just lost his ship on the Guinea coast. One day I condoled with
him, saying that I heard he had been ruined.

"Yes," replied the captain, "I have. Something like this: My mother once
had a very pretty housemaid who disappeared. Some time after I met her
magnificently dressed, and I said, 'Sally, where do you live now?' She
replied, 'Please, sir, I don't live anywhere now; I've been _ruined_.'"

Sam explained to me that the captain had a keg of gold-dust and many
diamonds, and having wrecked his vessel intentionally, was going to
London to get a heavy insurance. He had been "ruined" to his very great
advantage. Then Sam remarked--

"You don't know the captain. I tell you, Charley, that man is an old
slaver or pirate. See how I'll draw him out."

'The next day Sam began to talk. He remarked that he had been to sea and
had some money which he wished to invest. His health required a warm
climate, such as the African coast. We would both, in fact, like to go
into the Guinea business. [_Bozales_--"sacks of charcoal," I remarked in
Spanish slaver-slang.] The captain smiled. He had apparently heard the
expression before. He considered it. He had a great liking for me, and
thought that a trip or two under the black flag would do me a great deal
of good. So he noted down our address, and promised that as soon as he
should get a ship we should hear from him.

After that the captain, regarding me as enlisted in the fraternity, and
only waiting till 'twas "time for us to go," had no secrets from me. He
was very glad that I knew Spanish and French, and explained that if I
would learn Coromantee or Ebo, it would aid us immensely in getting
cargoes. By the way, I became very well acquainted in after years with
King George of Bonney, and can remember entertaining him with a story how
a friend of mine once (in Cuba) bought thirty Ebos, and on entering the
barracoon the next morning, found them all hanging by the necks dead,
like a row of possums in the Philadelphia market--they having, with
magnificent pluck, and in glorious defiance of Buckra civilisation,
resolved to go back to Africa.