Theodore Canot, Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African Slaver
“ I slept soundly that night; but the sun was not clear of the forest when I hobbled on deck in my shackles, and was searching the seaward horizon for my beloved Castilian. Presently the breeze began to freshen, and the tall, raking masts of a schooner were seen gliding above the tops of the mangroves that masked the Rio Pongo’s mouth. Very soon the light wind and tide drifted her clear of the bends, and an anchor was let go within musket shot of my prison, while springs were run out to the bushes to give range to her broadside. ”
