A Voyage to Cacklogallinia by Captain Samuel Brunt


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Page 4

[Price Sticht, Two Shillings and Sixpence.]





Nothing is more common than a Traveller's beginning the Account of
his Voyages with one of his own Family; in which, if he can't boast
Antiquity, he is sure to make it up with the Probity of his Ancestors.
As it can no way interest my Reader, I shall decline following a Method,
which I can't but think ridiculous, as unnecessary. I shall only say,
that by the Death of my Father and Mother, which happen'd while I was
an Infant, I fell to the Care of my Grandfather by my Mother, who was a
Citizen of some Note in _Bristol_, and at the Age of Thirteen sent me to
Sea Prentice to a Master of a Merchant-man.

My two first Voyages were to _Jamaica_, in which nothing remarkable
happen'd. Our third Voyage was to _Guinea_ and _Jamaica_; we slaved, and
arrived happily at that Island; but it being Time of War, and our Men
fearing they should be press'd (for we were mann'd a-peak) Twelve,
and myself, went on Shore a little to the Eastward of _Port Morante_,
designing to foot it to _Port Royal_. We had taken no Arms, suspecting
no Danger; but I soon found we wanted Precaution: For we were, in less
than an Hour after our Landing, encompass'd by about Forty Run-away
Negroes, well arm'd, who, without a Word speaking, pour'd in upon us a
Volley of Shot, which laid Eight of our Company dead, and wounded the
rest. I was shot thro' the right Arm.

After this Discharge, they ran upon us with their Axes, and (tho' we
cried for Mercy) cruelly butcher'd my remaining four Companions.

I had shared their Fate, had not he who seemed to Head the Party,
interposed between me and the fatal Axe already lifted for my
Destruction. He seized the designed Executioner by the Arm, and said,
_No kill te Boy, me scavez him; me no have him make deady_. I knew not
to what I should attribute this Humanity, and was not less surprized
than pleas'd at my Escape.

They struck off the Heads of my Companions, which they carried with 'em
to the Mountains, putting me in the Center of the Company.

I march'd very pensively, lamenting the Murder of my Ship-mates, and
often wish'd the Negro who saved me had been less charitable; for I
began to doubt I was reserved for future Tortures, and to be made a
Spectacle to their Wives and Children; when my Protector coming up to
me, said, _No be sadd_, Sam, _you no scavez me?_ I look'd earnestly at
the Fellow, and remember'd he was a Slave of a Planter's, a distant
Relation of mine, who had been a long while settled in the Island: He
had twice before run from his Master, and while I was at the Plantation
my first Voyage, he was brought in, and his Feet ordered to be cut off
to the Instep (a common Punishment inflicted on run-away Slaves) by my
Intercession this was remitted, and he escaped with a Whipping.

I ask'd if his Name was not _Cuffey_, Mr. _Tenant_'s Negro?

"My Name _Cuffey_, said he, me no _*Baccararo_ Negro now; me Freeman.
[*_Baccararo_, the Name Negroes give the Whites.] You no let cutty
my Foot, so me no let cutty your Head; no be sadd, you have _bumby
grande *yam yam_. [*_Yam yam_, in Negroes Dialect, signifies
victuals.]"

He endeavoured to comfort me under my Afflictions in this barbarous
Dialect; but I was so possess'd with the Notion of my being reserv'd to
be murdered, that I received but little Consolation.

We marched very slowly, both on account of the Heat, and of the Plunder
they had got from some Plantations; for every one had his Load of Kidds,
Turkies, and other Provisions.

About Three in the Afternoon, we reach'd a Village of run-away Negroes,
and we were received by the Inhabitants with all possible Demonstrations
of Joy. The Women sung, danc'd, and clapp'd their Hands, and the Men
brought _Mobby_ (a sort of Drink) and Rum, to welcome the return'd
Party. One of the Negro Men ask'd _Cuffey_, why he did not bring my
Head, instead of bringing me alive? He gave his Reason, at which he
seem'd satisfied, but said it was dangerous to let a _Baccararo_ know
their Retreat; that he would tell Captain _Thomas_, and he must expect
his Orders concerning me.

_Cuffey_ said he would go to give Captain _Thomas_ an Account of what
had happen'd in this _Sortie_, and would carry me with him. As they
spoke in the Negroes _English_, I understood them perfectly well. My
Friend then went to Captain _Thomas_, who was the Chief of all the
run-away Blacks, and took me with him. This Chief of theirs was about
Seventy Five Years old, a hale, strong, well-proportion'd Man, about Six
Foot Three Inches high; the Wooll of his Head and his Beard were white
with Age, he sat upon a little Platform rais'd about a Foot from the
Ground, accompanied by Eight or Ten near his own Age, smoaking Segars,
which are Tobacco Leaves roll'd up hollow.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Thu 9th Jan 2025, 2:17