Journal of an African Cruiser

5. – One year since we left America; a year not without incident and interest. We are still on the first parallel of north latitude, and going nine. I am under the surgeon's hands, apprehending a fever, but hoping to throw it off.

6. – We have made two hundred and twenty miles within the last twenty-four hours; and still the breeze does not slacken. Much better in health. Bless the man who first invented Doctors!

CHAPTER XIX

Recovery from Fever – Projected Independence of Liberia – Remarks on Climate and Health – Peril from Breakers – African Arts – Departure for the Cape de Verds – Man Overboard.

June 18. – A weary blank! Since my last date, I have had the coast fever, caught by sleeping on shore, at St. Anne de Chaves, and am now just recovering my physical force. My sickness was accompanied with little bodily pain, but with great prostration of strength. Able medical advice, and kind and judicious treatment, have brought me up a little; and, with the help of God, I may again call myself well, in a week or two more. But there is great danger of relapses, caution!

We are now at Monrovia, having made the passage from the river Gaboon, hitherward, in seven days and fourteen hours, from anchorage to anchorage – an unprecedented run! The Macedonian has been here, and is gone.

19. – Still better this morning. The sky looks brighter than before; the woods seem greener, and cast a lovelier shade; the surf breaks more gracefully along the beach; and the natives, paddling their canoes around the ship, look more human – more like brethren. Returning health gives a more beautiful aspect to all things. It is almost worth while to have been brought so low by sickness, for the sake of the freshness of body and spirit, the renewed youth, the tenderer susceptibility to all good impressions, which make my present consciousness so delightful. It is like being new-created, and placed in a new world. Life, to the convalescent, looks as fair and promising as if he had never tried it, and been weary of it.

20. – Still improving. The fine weather of yesterday and to-day invigorates and cheers me. Lieutenant Governor Benedict and some friends are expected on board, by special invitation. We pay much attention to the persons in authority here; it being the policy of our government to befriend and countenance the colonies. I hear that a serious effort is now in progress, at this place, to declare Liberia independent of the Colonization Society, and set up a republic. Lieutenant Governor Benedict and Mr. Teage are said to be at the head of the movement. Both are men of talent. Mr. Teage formerly edited the Liberia Herald, and preached in the Baptist Church, where his services were most emphatically gratuitous; for he not only ministered without a stipend, but supplied a place of worship – the sacred edifice being his own private property. He is certainly one of the ablest, if not the very ablest, writer and preacher in the colony. The project above-mentioned seems to me an unwise one; but benefits, which do not now appear, may possibly be obtained by sundering the relations between the settlement and the parent society. Much is expected from England. That nation, however, can never feel a maternal interest in the colony, nor will do for it what the Society has all along done, and continues to do.

21. – Still stronger. I am now able to resume my place at the mess-table. But care is necessary to avoid a relapse. It is one of the worst features of this disease, that it appears to continue in the system for many months after the patient's recovery, and to renew its attacks upon the slightest exposure. Most persons find it necessary to leave the coast, in order to the re-establishment of their health. I am not the only convalescent on board the ship. Mr. Ewal, a young Danish supercargo, is here for a few days, to try the benefit of a change of air, and enjoy the attendance of a regular physician. He has been on shore above a month, sick of the fever, under the charge of Dr. Prout, a colored practitioner. Our captain pitied his condition, invited him on board, and, with his uniform kindness, took him into the cabin, where, in only three days, he has already improved wonderfully.

27. – A sunny day, after three or four dull and rainy ones. My health is now so far restored, that I shall insert no more bulletins. I owe much to the care of our surgeon, who is very able and attentive, and has seen much yellow-fever practice, in the West Indies. The assistant-surgeon is also an excellent and an untiring officer. My fever, like the other cases which have happened on board, was of a bilious kind. All foreigners make themselves liable to it, either in its milder or more aggravated forms, by sleeping even a single night on shore; but, according to Dr. Hall, a physician of great experience on the coast, health may be preserved for an indefinite period, by the simple precaution of sleeping always on ship-board, at a very moderate distance from land. This does not altogether coincide with my own observations. It is true, that during eight or ten months after the arrival of a ship upon the coast, the health of her crew will probably continue good, if they neither sleep on shore nor ascend the rivers. But, if exposed for a longer period to the enervating influences of the unceasing heat, and the frequent penetrating rains, it may reasonably be expected that any ship's company will be broken down, even though not a single death may occur. In our own ship, we have recently had many cases of fever, where the patients have neither slept on shore, nor been exposed to the peculiar malaria of rivers. Doubtless, however, the fever of the country, where all due precautions have been used, will be much lighter on board, than on shore. But the patients will be liable to frequent relapses, and a complete recovery will be almost out of the question, without a change of climate. It is another objection to the long continuance of ships on this station, that all wounds or injuries, however slight, have a tendency to become obstinate and dangerous sores, which incapacitate these afflicted from performing any duty.

Besides the coast fever (which, Dr. Hall remarks, he has never known an emigrant completely to escape), there is an intermittent fever, against which no acclimation will protect the colonist, any more than against the bilious fever of America. The Rev. Mr. James, a colored missionary, told me, that, for seven years, he had been accustomed to suffer attacks of fever, once in every four or five weeks.

The natives of this country are as healthy as any people under Heaven. A benignant Providence has adapted the climate, soil, and productions, of every part of the globe to the constitutions of those races of mankind which it has placed there. Nor is Africa an exception. In spite of her desolating wars, and the immense drain of her children through the slave trade which for centuries has checked the increase of population, she is still a populous country. The aboriginal natives, unless killed through superstition or cruelty, survive to an almost patriarchal longevity. The colored people of America, or any other part of the world, may be regarded as borrowed from Africa, and inheriting a natural adaptation to her soil and climate. Such emigrants, therefore, may be expected to suffer less than the whites, in the process of acclimation, and may, in due time, find their new residence more genial to their constitutions, than those which they have quitted. At all events, their children will probably flourish here, and attain a fulness of physical, and perhaps moral and intellectual perfection, which the colored race has fallen short of, in other regions.

As the country becomes cleared and cultivated, the mortality of the emigrants decreases. It is asserted to be one-third less, at this period, than it was ten years ago. The statistics of Cape Palmas show the population to be on the increase, independently of immigration. Dr. Hall affirmed (but, I should imagine, with unusual latitude of expression) that, in the sickliest season ever known at Cape Palmas, the rate of mortality was lower than that of the free colored population in Baltimore, in an ordinary year. In another generation, this may no doubt be said with perfect accuracy.

28. – Last night, the Porpoise came in, and anchored inside of us. As we lay unusually near the shore, and as the wind was rising, with a heavy swell, the brig found herself, this morning, in a dangerous position. She sent us a boat, to say that she was dragging her anchor, and to ask for a hawser. This was immediately supplied; but, before we could give her the end of it, she had drifted into the breakers. She hoisted her colors, union down, and was momentarily expected to strike. At this instant, a tremendous roller swamped one of our boats, and left the men swimming for their lives. The other boats went to their assistance, and providentially succeeded in rescuing them all. Meantime, the brig made sail, and, by the help of our hawser, was able to keep her wind, and got out to sea, leaving both her anchors behind.

Soon after the Porpoise was saved, we found ourselves likewise in equal peril. The breakers began to whiten about the ship. The wind was not violent, but the swell was terrible; and the long rollers filled the bay, breaking in forty feet of water, and covering the sea with foam. Our anchors held tolerably well; but we dragged slowly, until, from seven fathoms, we had shoaled our water to four and a half. A council of the officers being called, it was determined to get under way. A hawser and stream-anchor being sent out, in order to bring the ship's head in the proper direction for making sail, the cables were slipped. It was a moment of intense interest; for, had the rollers or the wind inclined the ship from her proper course, we must inevitably have been lost; but she stood out beautifully, and soon left all peril astern.

There were still three merchant-vessels at anchor; the American barque Reaper, a Bremen brig, and a Hamburg schooner. While we had our own danger to encounter, we thought the less of our fellow-sufferers; but, after our escape, it was painful to think of leaving them in jeopardy. To the American barque (which lay inshore of us, with her colors union down) we sent a boat, with sixteen Kroomen, by whose assistance she was saved. The Bremen brig had her colors at half-mast, appealing to us for aid. She was nearer to the shore than the other vessels, and lay in the midst of the breakers, which frequently covered her from stem to stern. Her escape seemed impossible; and her cargo, valued at thirty thousand dollars, would have been considered a dear purchase at a thirtieth of that sum. We gave her all the help in our power, and not without effect; but her salvation, under Providence, was owing to a strong tide, which was setting out of the river, and counteracted the influence of wind and swell. Finally, we had the satisfaction to see all the vessels, one after another, come off safe.

During this scene, there was great commotion on shore, the people evidently expecting one or all of us to be lost. When the Porpoise got off, the Kroomen on the beach raised a great shout of joy.

29. – There is a very heavy sea this morning, with no prospect of its immediately subsiding. The Kroomen say that it will last four days from its commencement. It must have been terrific in the bay, last night. All the vessels are in sight, keeping off till the swell abates. We have left two boats behind us, and two anchors, besides the stream-anchor. There has been nothing like this storm, since our arrival on the coast.

July 2. – Again at anchor.

As we shall soon have done with Liberia, I must not forget to insert, among the motley records of this journal, some account of its ants. The immense number of these insects, which infest every part of the land, is a remarkable provision in the economy of Africa, as well as of other tropical countries. Though very destructive to houses, fences, and other articles of value, their ravages are far more than repaid by the benefits bestowed; for they act as scavengers in removing the great quantity of decaying vegetable matter, which would otherwise make the atmosphere intolerable. They perform their office both within doors and without. Frequently, the "drivers," as they are called, enter houses in myriads, and, penetrating to the minutest recesses, destroy everything that their omnivorous appetite can render eatable. Whatever has the principle of decay in it, is got rid of at once. All vermin meet their fate from these destroyers. Food, clothing, necessaries, superfluities, mere trash, and valuable property, are alike in their regard, and equally acceptable to their digestive powers. They would devour this journal with as little compunction as so much blank paper – and a sermon as readily as the journal – nor would either meal lie heavy on their stomachs. They float on your coffee, and crawl about your plate, and accompany the victuals to your mouth.

The ants have a Queen, whom the colonists call Bugga-Bug. Her subjects are divided into three classes; the Laborers, who do nothing but work – the Soldiers, who do nothing but fight – and the Gentry, who neither work nor fight, but spend their lives in the pleasant duty of continuing their species. The habitations of these insects, as specimens of mechanical ingenuity, are far superior to the houses of the natives, and are really the finest works of architecture to be met with on the African coast. In height, these edifices vary from four to fifteen or twenty feet, and are sometimes ten or twelve feet in diameter at the base. They contain apartments for magazines, for nurseries, and for all other domestic, social, and public purposes, communicating with one another, and with the exterior, by innumerable galleries and passages. The clay, which forms the material of the buildings, is rendered very compact, by a glutinous matter, mixed with earth; and all the passages, many of which extend great distances under ground, are plastered with the same kind of stucco. Captain Tuckey, in his expedition to the river Zaire, discovered ant-hills composed of similar materials to the above, but which, in shape, precisely resembled gigantic toad-stools, as high as a one-story house. In this part of Africa, they have the form of a mound. At the present day, when the community-principle is attracting so much attention, it would seem to be seriously worth while for the Fourierites to observe both the social economy and the modes of architecture of these African ants. Providence may, if it see fit, make the instincts of the lower orders of creation a medium of divine revelations to the human race: and, at all events, the aforesaid Fourierites might stumble upon hints, in an ant-hill, for the convenient arrangement of those edifices, which, if I mistake not, they have christened Phalanxteries.

8. – At 11 A.M., got under way for the Cape de Verds.

10. – Calm in the morning, and predictions of a long passage. At noon, sprung up a ten-knot breeze; and are sanguine of making a short run. In the evening, at the tea-table, we were talking of the delights of Saratoga, at this season, and contrasting the condition of the fortunate visitors to that fashionable resort, with that of the sallow, debilitated, discontented cruisers on the African station. In the midst of the conversation, the cry of "man overboard," brought us all on deck with a rush. There was not much sea, though we were going seven knots. The man kept his head well above water, and swam steadily toward the life-buoy, which floated at a short distance from him – his only hope – while the wide Atlantic was yawning around him, eager for his destruction. We watched him anxiously, until he seized it, and then thought of sharks. We were too far at sea, however, for many of these monsters to be in attendance. In a few moments a boat picked up man and buoy, and the ship was on her course again.

21. – Anchored at Porto Praya.

The season of journalizing, to any good purpose, is over. Scenes and objects in this region have been so often presented to my eyes, that they now fail to make the vivid impressions which could alone enable me (were that ever possible) to weave them into a lively narrative of my adventures. My entries therefore, for the rest of the cruise, are likely to be "few, and far between."

CHAPTER XX

Glimpses of the bottom of the Sea – The Gar-Fish – The Booby and the Mullet – Improvement of Liberia – Its Prospects – Higher social position of its Inhabitants – Intercourse between the White and Colored Races – A Night on Shore – Farewell to Liberia. – Reminiscence of Robinson Crusoe.

September 1. – At Porto Grande.

To-day, as for many previous days, the water has been beautifully clear. The massive anchor and the links of the chain-cable, which lay along the bottom, were distinctly visible upon the sand, full fifty feet below. Hundreds of fish – the grouper, the red snapper, the noble baracouta, the mullet, and many others, unknown to northern seas – played round the ship, occasionally rising to seize some floating food, that perchance had been thrown overboard. With my waking eye, I beheld the bottom of the sea as plainly as Clarence saw it in his dream; although, indeed, here were few of the splendid and terrible images that were revealed to him: —

"A thousand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels."

Nevertheless, it was a sight that seemed to admit me deeper into the liquid element than I had ever been before. Now and then came the long, slender gar-fish, and, with his sword-like beak, struck some unhappy fish which tempted his voracity. I watched the manoeuvres of the destroyer and his victims, with no little interest. The fish (which, in the two instances particularly observed, was the mullet) came instantly to the surface, on being struck, and sprang far out of water. He swam on his side with a circular motion, keeping his head above the surface. From time to time he leaped into the air, spasmodically, and in a fit of painful agony; for it could not be from alarm, as the foe was nowhere visible. Gradually, his strength failed, and his efforts became feebler, and still more feeble.

The fates of the two mullets were different. One received a second blow from the inexorable gar-fish, which, for a moment, increased his agony and his exertions. He then lay motionless upon the surface, at rest from all trouble. The conqueror came a third time, seized his prey, and swam swiftly out of sight.

The other mullet, which rose half an hour afterwards, swam closer to the ship than his predecessor, and received no second blow. While the poor fellow was yet in the death-struggle, came two great sable birds, with bills, wings, and legs, like those of the heron. Flapping their dark wings in the air, they circled round, and repeatedly swooped almost upon the dying fish. But he was not doomed to be their victim. Presently, with his brown back, white breast, and pink bill, came flapping along a booby, and, without a moment's hesitation, stooped upon the mullet, and appeared to swallow him in the twinkling of an eye. The fish was at least six inches in length, and the bird not twice as much. How so liberal a morsel could be so quickly disposed of, was a marvel to a dozen idlers, who had been curiously observing this game of life and death to one party, and a dinner to the other. Certainly, the booby carried off the fish. Borne down by the weight of his spoil, the feathered gormandizer alighted on the water – rested himself for a moment – rose again, and re-alighted – and in this manner, with many such intervals of repose, made his way to the shore.

25. – At 1 P.M., sailed for the Coast, in company with the Truxton.

26. – Anchored off Cape Mesurado.

It is now fourteen months since our ship first visited Monrovia. Within that period there has been a very perceptible improvement in its condition. The houses are in better repair; the gardens under superior cultivation. There is an abundant supply of cattle, which have been purchased from the natives. More merchant-vessels now make this their port, bringing goods hither, and creating a market for the commodities, live stock, and vegetables, of the colonists. An increased amount of money is in circulation; and the inhabitants find that they can dispose of the products of their industry for something better than the cloth and tobacco, which they were formerly obliged to take in payment. The squadron of United States men-of-war, if it do no other good, will at least have an essential share in promoting the prosperity of Liberia.

After having seen much, and reflected upon the subject even to weariness, I write down my opinion, that Liberia is firmly planted, and is destined to increase and prosper. This it will do, though all further support from the United States be discontinued. A large part of the present population, it is true, are ignorant, and incompetent to place a just estimate on freedom, or even to comprehend what freedom really is. But they are generally improving in this respect; and there is already a sufficient intermixture of intelligent, enterprising and sagacious men, to give the proper tone to the colony, and insure its ultimate success. The great hope, however, is in the generation that will follow these original emigrants. Education is universally diffused among the children; and its advantages, now beginning to be very manifest, will, in a few years, place the destinies of this great enterprise in the hands of men born and bred in Africa. Then, and not till then, will the experiment of African colonization, and of the ability of the colonists for self-support and self-government, have been fairly tried. My belief is firm in a favorable result.

Meantime, it would be wiser in the Colonization Society, and its more zealous members, to moderate their tone, and speak less strongly as to the advantages held out by Liberia. Unquestionably, it is a better country than America, for the colored race. But they will find it very far from a paradise. Men, who expect to become independent and respectable, can only achieve their object here on the same terms as everywhere else. They must cultivate their minds, be willing to exert themselves, and not look for a too easy or too rapid rise of fortune. One thing is certain. People of color have here their fair position in the comparative scale of mankind. The white man, who visits Liberia, be he of what rank he may, and however imbued with the prejudice of hue, associates with the colonists on terms of equality. This would be impossible (speaking not of individuals, but of the general intercourse between the two races) in the United States. The colonist feels his advantage in this respect, and reckons it of greater weight in the balance than all the hardships to which he is obliged to submit, in an unwonted climate and a strange country. He is redeemed from ages of degradation, and rises to the erect stature of humanity. On this soil, sun-parched though it be, he gives the laws; and the white man must obey them. In this point of view – as restoring to him his long-lost birthright of equality – Liberia may indeed be called the black man's paradise.

It is difficult to lay too great stress on the above consideration. When the white man sets his foot on the shore of Africa, he finds it necessary to throw off his former prejudices. For my own part, I have dined at the tables of many colored men in Liberia, have entertained them on shipboard, worshipped with them at church; walked, rode, and associated with them, as equal with equal, if not as friend with friend. Were I to meet those men in my own town, and among my own relatives, I would treat them kindly and hospitably, as they have treated me. My position would give me confidence to do so. But, in another city, where I might be known to few, should I follow the dictates of my head and heart, and there treat these colored men as brethren and equals, it would imply the exercise of greater moral courage than I have ever been conscious of possessing. This is sad; but it shows forcibly what the colored race have to struggle against in America, and how vast an advantage is gained by removing them to another soil.

10. – Yesterday, Governor Roberts gave our officers a farewell dinner. We left the table early, made our adieus, and were on our way down the river half an hour before sunset. The pilot and some of our friends endeavored to dissuade us from attempting the passage of the bar, pronouncing the surf too dangerous. Some Kroomen also discouraged us, saying that the bar was "too saucy." With the fever behind us, and the wild breakers and sharks before, it was matter of doubt what course to pursue. Anxiety to be on our way homeward settled the difficulty; and we left the wharf, to make, at least, a trial. A trial, and nothing more, it proved; for, as we neared the bar, it became evident that there would be great rashness in attempting to cross. The surf came in heavily, and with the noise of thunder, and the gigantic rollers broke into foam, across the whole width of the bar. Darkness had fallen around us, with the sudden transition of a tropical climate. There was no open space visible amid the foam; and, while the men lay on their oars, we looked anxiously for the clear water, which marks the channel to the sea. Many minutes were thus spent, looking with all our eyes.

A council of war was held between the captain and myself, in which we discussed the probabilities of being swamped and eaten. Having once fairly started, we did not like to turn back, especially as it would be necessary to go through the insipid ceremony of repeating our good-bye. Then, too, the image of fever rose behind us. By the prohibition of the Commodore, and the dictates of prudence, not an officer had slept on shore on any part of the mainland of the African coast, during the whole period of our cruise; and now, at the very last moment, to be compelled to incur the risk, was almost beyond patience. On the other hand, there was the foaming surf, and the ravenous sharks, in whose maws there was an imminent probability of our finding accommodation, should we venture onward. It is a fate proper enough for a sailor, but which he may be excused for avoiding as long as possible. Our council ended, therefore, with a determination to turn back, and trust to the tender mercies of the fever.

It was a splendid moonlight night; one of those nights on which the natives deem it impossible to catch fish, saying that the sky has too many eyes, and that the fish will shun the bait. The frogs kept up an incessant chorus, reminding me of the summer evening melodies of my native land, yet as distinct from those as are the human languages of the two countries. I have observed that the notes of frogs are different in different parts of the world. On the banks of the beautiful Arno, it is like the squalling of a cat. Here, it is an exact imitation of the complaining note of young turkeys. Unweariedly, these minstrels made music in our ears, until dawn gleamed in the East, and ushered in a bright and glorious morning. The birds now took the place of the frogs in nature's orchestra, and cooed, peeped, chattered, screamed, whistled, and sang, according to their various tastes and abilities. The trees were very green, and the dew-drops wonderfully brilliant; and, amid the cheerful influence of sun-rise, it was difficult to believe that we had incurred any deadly mischief, by our night's rest on the shore of Africa.

At a later period, I add, that no bad result ensued, either to the captain, myself, or the eight seamen, who were detained ashore on the above occasion. This good fortune may be attributable to the care with which we guarded ourselves from the night-air and the damps; and besides, we left the coast immediately, and, after a brief visit to Sierra Leone, pursued our homeward course to America. On another occasion, a lieutenant, a surgeon, and six men, belonging to our squadron, were detained on shore at Cape Mount, all night, after being capsized and wet. What were their precautions, I am unable to say; but, all the officers and men were attacked by fever, more or less severely, and in one instance fatally. [Footnote: While revising these sheets for the press, the writer hears of an example which may show the necessity of the health-regulations imposed on the American squadron. The U.S. ship Preble ascended the River Gambia to the English settlement of Bathurst, a distance of fifteen miles, to protect the European residents against an apprehended attack of the natives. Although the ship remained but one or two days, yet, in that brief space, about a hundred cases of fever occurred on board, proving fatal to the master, a midshipman, and seventeen of the crew.] And now we leave Liberia behind us, with our best wishes for its prosperity, but with no very anxious desire to breathe its fever-laden atmosphere again. There is enough of interest on the African station; but life blazes quickly away, beneath the glare of that torrid sun; and one year of that climate is equivalent to half a dozen of a more temperate one, in its effect upon the constitution. The voyager returns, with his sallow visage, and emaciated form, and enervated powers, to find his contemporaries younger than himself – to realize that he has taken two or three strides for their one, towards the irrevocable bourne; and has abridged, by so much, the season in which life is worth having for what may be accomplished, or for any zest that may be found in it.

Before quitting the coast, I must not forget that our cruising-ground has a classical claim upon the imagination, as being the very same over which Robinson Crusoe made two or three of his voyages. That famous navigator sailed all along the African shore, between Cape de Verd and the Equator, trading for ivory, for gold dust, and especially for slaves, with as little compunction as Pedro Blanco himself. It is remarkable that De Foe, a man of most severe and delicate conscience, should have made his hero a slave-dealer, and should display a perfect insensibility to anything culpable in the traffic. Morality has taken a great step in advance, since that day; or, at least, it has thrown a strong light on one spot, with perhaps a corresponding shadow on some other. The next age may shift the illumination, and show us sins as great as that of the slave-trade, but which now enter into the daily practice of men claiming to be just and wise.

CHAPTER XXI

Sierra Leone – Sources of its Population – Appearance of the Town and surrounding Country – Religious Ceremonies of the Mandingoes – Treatment of liberated Slaves – Police of Sierra Leone – Agencies for Emigration to the West Indies – Colored Refugees from the United States – Unhealthiness of Sierra Leone – Dr. Fergusson – Splendid Church – Melancholy Fate of a Queen's Chaplain – Currency – Probable Ruin of the Colony.

October 15. – We arrived off the point of Sierra Leone, last night, and were piloted up to the town, this morning.

This is one of the most important and interesting places on the coast of Africa. It was founded in 1787, chiefly through the benevolent agency of Mr. Granville Sharp, as a place of refuge for a considerable number of colored persons, who had left their masters, and were destitute and unsheltered in the streets of London. Five years later, the population of the colony was recruited by above a thousand slaves, who had fled from the United States to Nova Scotia, during the American revolution. Again, in 1800, there was an addition of more than five hundred maroons, or outlawed negroes, from Jamaica. And finally, since 1807, Sierra Leone has been the receptacle for the great numbers of native Africans liberated from slave-ships, on their capture by British cruisers. Pensioners, with their families, from the black regiments in the West Indies, have likewise been settled here. The population is now estimated at about forty-five thousand; a much smaller amount, probably, than the aggregate of all the emigrants who have been brought hither. The colony has failed to prosper, but not through any lack of effort on the part of England. It is the point, of all others on the African coast, where British energy, capital, and life, have been most profusely expended.