Sea Robber Read Free

it comes to selling their neighbours,’ Hector explained.
    ‘That’s not all they have to sell. Look at those teeth.’ Cook had spotted a pile of elephant tusks piled in one corner. His covetous tone made Hector wonder for a moment if the buccaneer captain dared to think of plundering the fort. But he dismissed the idea immediately. Cook had far too few men to risk an attack.
    They walked on across the compound. There were very few people to be seen, only the native chief and a trio of Danish soldiers. Tunics unbuttoned, they lounged in the shade of some arches that led to the dormitory for the garrison.
    ‘I’m curious to see where the slaves are kept,’ said Cook. The slave pens lay directly ahead, behind a row of stout iron-bound doors on the far side of the compound. Hector had never visited the holding pens before, but the Carlsborg ’s quartermaster, a man experienced in the slave trade, had told him that the fort was designed for smooth handling of the human contents. A brick-lined passageway pierced the outer wall and led directly from the pens to a gate overlooking the beach. When the time came to load the Carlsborg , the slaves would be chained together in batches, led down the passageway, and marched straight to where boats were waiting to run a shuttle service out to the ship. Hector had asked whether the Carlsborg had enough boats for the task, and was told the local fishermen made a handsome living by hiring out themselves and their canoes as transport.
    The iron-bound doors were locked. With no one to give them any directions, the two men climbed a wooden stairway to an upper floor and came to a small door, which was ajar. Entering, they found themselves in a long corridor, which ran almost the full width of the building. After the blinding glare of the compound, it took a moment for Hector’s eyes to adjust to the deep gloom inside. The rank stench he’d smelled earlier was now so strong he had to swallow hard to stop himself gagging. In the opposite wall of the corridor he could make out the outline of a small, heavily barred window. Dimly he was aware of more windows on either side, where the gallery stretched away into the darkness. He stepped up to the window and peered in. He was looking down into a dungeon. From a height of a dozen feet it was difficult to see much of what was immediately below him, but from what he could see the dungeon appeared to be about fifteen paces square. The only source of light and air was a row of three tiny windows on the far wall. They were set close to the ceiling and revealed a curved vault roof of dressed stone. Nearly all the light fell on the far end of the dungeon. There the floor was thickly covered with humans. They sat on the flagstones, their heads bowed, arms clasped around their knees. A few had somehow found space to lie down. His nose told him they had no latrine, and he wondered how such a dense mass of humanity could be fed and given water. Immediately below where he stood the light was so poor it was difficult to distinguish individuals. They coalesced into one shadowy, intertwined mass. Eerily, the only sound was an occasional cough or a low moan. A sense of quiet, hopeless resignation exuded from this thick carpet of humanity. Hector was appalled.
    Cook, his face only inches away from Hector’s, peered into the dungeon. Hector briefly caught the scent of perfume that he was using. ‘A bachelor’s delight,’ Cook breathed wonderingly. Puzzled for an instant, Hector suddenly comprehended his meaning. Several of the captives in the dungeon had sensed they were being observed. They had raised their heads and looked up towards the spyhole. Hector could just make out their faces and the occasional gleam of an eye. Every one of them was a woman. This was a dungeon exclusively for female slaves awaiting shipment.
    ‘De er alle solgt,’ said a husky voice. A Danish gaoler was standing in the corridor, a few paces away. He tapped his chest with one