Having had the dishonour to be employed in the Slave-Trade, and having
been for some time resident in a factory up the country, observations
and facts have occurred, that may add a little to the mass of materials,
your humanity has been at such labour to collect; and which has already
thrown so much light on a traffic, that from its commencement to its
close, is marked with a rapacity and oppression, unequalled in any, the
most horrid process of individual or collective guilt, that has stained
the page of history. The epistolary form will be an apt medium for a few
observations, where there is no time for a logical arrangement, and my
addressing of them to a Gentleman, to whose energy and elucidations the
cause is so much indebted, will be allowed the claim of propriety at
least, and I hope will meet with your excuse. Without taking up your
time by a longer preface, I will hasten to my remarks, commencing with
as early a stage of the bussiness as possible, so that they may, as far
as circumstances will allow, connect the whole round of a GUINEA VOYAGE.
I have been the readier to take up my pen, when I consider the
impenetrable veil that has been thrown over this traffic for such a
number of years. Its principle, its process, and its effects, have been
with-held from the public eye by every effort that interest, ingenuity,
and influence, could devise. It would be but a natural question in this
place, were it asked, How it is possible that a trade, which has been
carried on so long, and in such an open manner, whose effects are every
day before us, and to continue, which such a number of people are
employed, can be marked with such uncommon circumstances of cruelty,
injustice, murder, and oppression, as have been usually laid to its
charge?
That the remark is specious, I do not mean to deny; and many, I fear,
have too hastily made up their minds on the subject from this
consideration alone. But let me also ask a question or two in return.
From whom is it expected that this information should be derived? Who
are the persons qualified to produce the authentic evidence? Will the
merciful slave-merchant step forward, and give up the long catalogue of
rapacity, murder, and destruction, his own avarice has framed; Will the
humane Guinea-Captain produce his fatal muster-roll,—and for once
impelled by justice, change that _useful_ disease,—_Flux_, _Flux_,
_Flux_, which has hitherto so conveniently masked the death-list of his
devoted crew, to the _real_, the mortal causes, that have thinned his
ship? Will petty officers, bravely despising all thoughts of preferment,
disregarding the opinion of owners and agents, and nobly resolving to
pass their lives in labour, wretchedness, and servile dependance—will
they disclose the horrid scenes they have been witnesses to—the
barbarities they have seen practised, and the cruelties, of which, they
themselves have been, perhaps, the unwilling instruments? And yet we
have information on the subject: information in newspapers, in
pamphlets, in coffee-houses, and on 'change; on the warrantable, the
political, the humane process of the Slave-Trade. Heavens!—Through
_what_ channels must flow the sullied accounts that are thus thrown
before us? Through the self interested affirmations of _Traders_;
through _Captains_, whose continuance in the employ depends on their
open attachment and defence of the proceedings of their owners; through
_Captains_, I say, who hope to be Traders, and through _Mates_, who hope
to be Captains.
Why those, who through inclination, and having no favour to purchase,
nor interest to support, and who might be supposed to give the truth in
plain, unbiassed information, are not produced in such multitudes as our
adversaries demand, I shall endeavour to prove impossible, from the
nature of the trade, and the unremitting pains taken to prevent their
returning to the port from which they sailed.
For this purpose, I must pass over all the destruction and barbarity of
the voyage, and meet the few meagre survivors on their arrival in the
West-Indies. Here they are bound by their articles^[1], to receive half
their wages in the currency of the island. This is a two-fold grievance.
They are robbed of as much hardly-earned money, as makes the difference
between currency and sterling, which is far from being an inconsiderable
loss. But there is a farther mischief attendant on this injustice.
Imagine to yourself, Sir, a poor worn-out wretch, after the miseries and
sickness of a _slaving voyage_—after a long want of every cheering
beverage—now first set ashore—his own master—among people of his own
colour and language—with money in his pocket, and temptations to excess
on every side: picture this—and for a moment recollect the unsuspecting,
thoughtless, dissipated propensity that marks the character of a British
sailor, and must you not conclude the consequence as anavoidable—that
the feeble remains left, by the cruelty and disease of an _African
voyage_, are speedily sacrificed by West Indian intemperance?
From death and desertion, _thus encouraged_, few escape. I went out in a
certain vessel; the crew consisted of thirty-two or upwards; she was
designed to be left on the coast as a floating factory. A fresh ship of
300 tons, was sent out to bring off the purchase to the West Indies,
with a crew to replace our dead. The captain of the latter, and a few to
make trade were left on the coast; the rest embarked with us for the
West Indies—of the two crews, there came home but the captain, the
carpenter, and myself.
By such means, they get rid of those who might call them to an account
for their barbarities—and the money due to those, whom they have obliged
to desert, is saved to their owners. The mortality, usually ascribed to
a Guinea voyage, stops or lessens the proper inquiries about the fate of
the crew. Besides, improvident, heedless sailors, seldom give their
friends a line of advice, relative to the port they sail from, or on
what particular voyage they are bound; especially a voyage that is held
in so much dishonour and contempt. Though I remained a long time in
Liverpool, after our arrival, there were inquiries but after four
persons out of the two crews above mentioned, and one of those was from
Falmouth, and the other from the farther part of Wales. And I am
convinced, (for I managed all their little accounts) that of the first
crew, officers excepted, not one of them had sent their friends the
smallest account of their destination. Thus, silently, does the nation
lose her most useful subjects: and in this manner is the public deprived
of an impartial channel of information, and of the means of developing a
system of iniquity, from the flimsy web, in which it has so long been
veiled by sophistry and misrepresentation.
[1] The practice of Liverpool, the only port I sailed from in that
employ.