We however continued sowing; and more than twenty-four thousand feet of cotton had already been added to the plantation, when our labours were stopped by war suddenly breaking out between the colony and the Moors. We learned that a part of their troops were in the island of Bokos, situated but a short distance from our own. It was said that the Arab merchants and the Marabouts, (priests of the Musulmen), who usually travel to Senegal on affairs of commerce, had been arrested by the French soldiers. In the fear that the Moors would come to our island and make us prisoners, we resolved to go to the head-quarters of the colony, and stay there till the war had ceased. My father caused all his effects to be transported to the house of the resident at Babaguey, after which we left our cottage and the island of Safal. Whilst Etienne slowly rowed the canoe which contained our family, I ran my eye over the places we were leaving, as if wishing them an eternal adieu. In contemplating our poor cottage, which we had built with such difficulty, I could not suppress my tears. All our plantations, thought I, will be ravaged during our absence; our home will be burned; and we will lose in an instant that which cost us two years of pain and fatigue. I was diverted from these reflections by our canoe striking against the shore of Babaguey. We landed there, and instantly set off to the residence of M. Lerouge; but he was already at Senegal. We found his house filled with soldiers, which the governor had sent to defend that position against the Moors. My father then borrowed a little shallop to take us to Senegal. Whilst the boat was preparing, we eat a morsel of millet-bread I had had the precaution to make before we left Safal; at last, at six in the evening, we embarked for St Louis, leaving our negroes at Babaguey. My father promised to Etienne to go and rejoin him to continue the work, if it was possible, as soon as we were in safety.
It was very late before we reached Senegal. As we had no lodgings, a friend of my father, (M. Thomas) admitted us, his worthy wife loading us with kindness. During our stay in the island of Safal, my father had made various trips to Senegal; but as my sister and myself had not quitted it for a long time, we found ourselves in another world. The isolated manner in which we had lived, and the misfortunes we had endured, contributed in no small degree to give us a savage and embarrassed appearance. Caroline especially had become so timid, she could not be persuaded to appear in company. It is true the nakedness to which we were reduced, a good deal caused the repugnance we felt at seeing company. Having no cap but our hair, no clothes but a half-worn robe of coarse silk, without stockings and shoes, we felt very distressed in appearing thus habited before a society among whom we had formerly held a certain rank. The good lady Thomas seeing our embarrassment, kindly dispensed with our appearance at table, as they had strangers in the house. She caused supper to be brought to our chamber, under the pretext that we were indisposed. In this manner we escaped the curious and imprudent regards of various young people, who had not yet been tutored by the hand of misfortune. We learned that we were known at Senegal by different names, some calling us The Hermits of the Isle of Safal, others The Exiles in Africa.
On the morrow, my father hired an apartment in the house of one of his old friends (M. Valentin.) After breakfast we thanked our hosts, and went to our new lodging. It consisted of a large chamber, the windows of which were under ground, filled with broken panes; thus, in the first night, we had such a quantity of musquitoes, that we thought we were yet in the island of Safal. On the following day, my father was desirous of returning to his plantation. We in vain represented to him the dangers to which he exposed himself; nothing would divert him from his design. He promised, however, to go to Safal only during the day, and to sleep at the house of the resident at Babaguey. He told us that it was not the war with the Moors alone which caused him to bring us to Senegal, but also the state of suffering in which the whole family was. It is true our strength was considerably diminished; the youngest of my brothers had been for several days attacked with a strong fever; and we were all slightly seized with the same disease. My father, taking our oldest brother with him, left us for the isle of Safal, promising to come and see us every Sunday. I went with him to the court-gate, conjuring him, above all things, not to expose himself, and to take care of his health, which was so precious to us. That worthy man embraced me, and bade me fear nothing on that head, for he too well felt how necessary his life was to his children, to expose it imprudently. "For my health," added he, "I hope to preserve it long, unless Heaven has decided otherwise." With these words he bid adieu, and went away; I returned to the house and gave free vent to my tears. I know not what presentiment then seized me, for I felt as if I had seen my father for the last time; and it was only at the end of the third day, on receiving a letter written with his own hand, that I could divest myself of these gloomy ideas. He told us he was very well, and that all was quiet at Safal. On the same day I wrote to inform him of the condition of our young brother, who was a little better during the evening; I sent him at the same time some loaves of new bread and three bottles of wine which a generous person had had the goodness to give us. On the following Sunday we sat waiting his arrival, but a frightful tempest that raged during all the day, deprived us of that pleasure; we, however, received accounts from him every two days, which were always satisfactory.
About the 1st of August 1819, the best friend of my father, M. Dard, who, from the commencement of our misfortunes, had not withheld his helping hand from us, came to announce his approaching departure for France, and to bid us farewell. We congratulated him on the happiness of leaving so melancholy a place as Senegal. After we had talked some time about our unfortunate situation, and of the little hope we had of ever getting out of it, that sensible man, feeling his tears beginning to flow, took leave of us, promising to visit my father in passing Babaguey. Some days after, our young sister became dangerously ill; the fever attacked me also; and in less than forty-eight hours all our family were seized with the same disease. Caroline, however, had still sufficient strength to take care of us; and, but for her assistance, we would all perhaps have become a prey to the malady which oppressed us. That good sister durst not acquaint my father with the deplorable condition in which we all were; but alas! she was soon obliged to tell him the melancholy news. I know not what passed during two days after my sister had written my father, having been seized with delirium. When the fit had somewhat abated, and I had recovered my senses a little, I began to recognise the people who were about me, and I saw my father weeping near my bed. His presence revived the little strength I had still left. I wished to speak, but my ideas were so confused that I could only articulate a few unconnected words. I then learned, that after my father was acquainted with our dangerous condition, he had hastened to Senegal with my oldest brother, who also had been attacked. My father seemed to be no better than we were; but to quiet our fears, he told us that he attributed his indisposition to a cold he had caught from sleeping on a bank of sand at Safal. We soon perceived that his disease was more of the mind than of the body. I often observed him thoughtful, with a wild and disquieted look. This good man, who had resisted with such courage all his indignities and misfortunes, wept like a child at the sight of his dying family.
Meanwhile the sickness increased every day in our family; my young sister was worst. Dr Quincey saw her, and prescribed every remedy he thought necessary to soothe her sufferings. During the middle of the night she complained of a great pain in her abdomen, but, after taking the medicine ordered her, she fell quiet, and we believed she was asleep. Caroline, who watched us during the night in spite of her weakness, took advantage of this supposed slumber to take a little repose. A short while after, wishing to see if little Laura still slept, she raised the quilt which covered her, and uttered a piercing shriek. I awoke, and heard her say in a tremulous voice, Alas! Laura is dead. Our weeping soon awoke our unhappy father. He rose, and, seeing the face of the dead child, cried in wild despair: "It is then all over; my cruel enemies have gained their victory! They have taken from me the bread which I earned with the sweat of my brow to support my children; they have sacrificed my family to their implacable hate; let them now come and enjoy the fruit of their malice with a sight of the victim they have immolated! let them come to satiate their fury with the scene of misery in which they have plunged us! O cruel S——, thy barbarous heart cannot be that of a Frenchman!" On uttering these words, he rushed out, and seated himself under a gallery which was at the door of the house in which we lived. He there remained a long while buried in profound meditation, during which time we could not get him to utter one word. At last, about six o'clock in the morning the physician came, and was surprised on hearing of the death of Laura; then went to my father, who seemed to be insensible to every thing around him, and inquired at him concerning his health. "I am very well," replied he, "and I am going to return to Safal; for I always find myself best there." The Doctor told him his own condition, as well as that of his family, would not allow him to leave Senegal; but he was inflexible. Seeing nothing would induce him to remain at St Louis, I arose, weak as I was, and went to search for a negro and a canoe to carry us to Safal. In the meanwhile a friend of ours took the charge of burying the body of my sister; but my father wished to inter it beside the others in his island, and determined to take it thither along with us. Not to have, however, such a melancholy sight before our eyes during our journey, I hired a second canoe to carry the corpse of poor Laura; and attaching it to the one in which we were, we took our young brothers in our arms and set off. Having arrived opposite the house possessed by M. Thomas, my father felt himself greatly indisposed. I profited by the circumstance, by getting him to go to the house of his friend; hoping we would persuade him against returning to Safal. He consented without difficulty; but we had scarcely entered the house, when he was again taken very ill. We instantly called a physician, who found in him the seeds of a most malignant fever. We laid him down, and all the family wept around his bed, whilst the canoe which carried the remains of our young sister proceeded to Safal. M. Thomas undertook to procure us a house more healthy than that we had quitted; but the condition of my father was such, that he found it impossible to walk, and we had to put him in a litter to take him to our new habitation. All the worthy people of Senegal could not contain their indignation against governor S——, whose inhuman conduct towards our family had been the principal cause of all our misfortunes. They went to his house, and boldly told him it was a shame for the Chief of the colony thus to allow an unfortunate family entirely to perish. M. S——, either touched with these reproaches, or at last being moved by more friendly feelings towards us, caused provisions secretly to be sent to our house. We received them under the persuasion they had been sent by some friend of my father; but having at last learned they had come from the governor, my father bid me return them to him. I did not know what to do, for a part of the provisions had already been consumed; and, besides, the distressed condition to which we were reduced, made me flatter myself with the thought, that the governor wished at last to make amends for the wrongs he had done us. But alas! his assistance was too late; the fatal moment was fast approaching when my father had to bend under the pressure of his intolerable sufferings.
