The first news we received on reaching Duke Town was of the death of King Eyamba. He had been sinking almost ever since we left the country, but made an effort, a few weeks before we arrived, to pay his farewell visit to a ship about to sail for England, that he might close accounts and receive his parting “dash.” It was his last effort. He counted the guns fired in his honour as he went ashore, was satisfied that he had received his full number, and sank down in his carriage to rise no more.

His death took place before he entered his house, and could not be concealed. It diffused terror through the town, yet no one dared to say that he was dead. The slaves fled in all directions. His brothers and nephew, with trusty attendants, proceeded to search the houses, and immolate whom they could find. Entering a yard, they cried to their followers, “Shut the gate, and if any escape, see you to it;” and then strangled its inmates. A slave in one of them secreted himself, and afterwards escaped to the mission-house. Armed men guarded the paths leading from the town, that none might escape to the farms and give the alarm; while others were despatched thither to seize or slay whom they could find, by road or river, in house or field.