power, its perilous line almost unbroken by a good harbor, from the Cape
of Good Hope to the Straits of Gibraltar, their services in
communicating with the shore were simply invaluable. The head Kroomen
exercised despotic power over their respective gangs, and the men were
given fanciful names, and so entered on the purser's books.
Bottle-o'-Beer, Jack Frying-Pan, Tom Bobstay, Upside Down, and the like,
were favorite names; and our fun-loving young sailing-master hints, in
his letters of the time, that the archives of the fourth auditor's
office at Washington may possibly embalm the names of certain Annapolis
belles that had been borne by some of these sable folk!

The cruising ground embraced the coasts of Upper and Lower Guinea, and
the coast of Biafra, with occasional visits of recruit and recreation to
Cape Town and St. Helena. The work was arduous, monotonous, and
exhausting, especially during the rainy season, when the decks were
continually deluged with water, and dry clothing was the exception, not
the rule. The weather was always hot, often damp and sultry, and the
atmosphere on shore so pestilential, that no one was permitted to remain
there after sundown. But that rule was no deprivation, as the dangers of
the passage through the relentless breakers, alive with sharks, were so
great, that few cared to visit the shore except when absolutely
necessary. The vessels cruised mostly in sight of the coast to watch the
movements of the merchantmen, all more or less under suspicion as
slavers, watching their chances to get off with a cargo. On one hand
was the rounded horizon dipping into the broad Atlantic; on the other,
the angry line of rollers with their thunderous roar, backed by white
beach and dense forest, with occasional glimpses of blue hills in the
distant interior. This and nothing more, from day to day, save when a
small village of thatched huts came into view, adding a scant feature to
the landscape; or a solitary canoe outside the line of breakers; or