Part 4

There is also, in the same early source, a quaint description of what occurred to a ship from Bristol, captured, in 1621, by an Algerine corsair. The Englishmen were all taken out except four youths, over whom the Turks, as these barbarians were often called by early writers, put thirteen of their own men to conduct the ship as a prize to Algiers; and one of the pirates, a strong, able, stern, and resolute person, was appointed captain. "These four poor youths," so the story proceeds, "being thus fallen into the hands of merciless infidels, began to study and complot all the means they could for the obtayning of their freedom. They considered the lamentable and miserable estates that they were like to be in, as to be debarred forever from seeing their friends and country, to be chained, beaten, made slaves, and to eat the bread of affliction in the galleys, all the remainder of their unfortunate lives, and, which was worst of all, never to be partakers of the heavenly word and sacraments. Thus, being quite hopeless, and, for any thing they knew, forever helpless, they sailed five days and nights under the command of the pirates, when, on the fifth night, God, in his great mercy, showed them a means for their wished-for escape." A sudden wind arose, when, the captain coming to help take in the mainsail, two of the English youths "suddenly took him by the breech and threw him overboard; but, by fortune, he fell into the bunt of the sail, where, quickly catching hold of a rope, he, being a very strong man, had almost gotten into the ship again; which John Cook perceiving, leaped speedily to the pump, and took off the pump brake, or handle, and cast it to William Long, bidding him knock him down, which he was not long in doing, but, lifting up the wooden weapon, he gave him such a palt on the pate, as made his braines forsake the possession of his head, with which his body fell into the sea." The corsair slave dealers were overpowered. The four English youths drove them "from place to place in the ship, and having coursed them from poop to the forecastle, they there valiantly killed two of them, and gave another a dangerous wound or two, who, to escape the further fury of their swords, leaped suddenly overboard to go seek his captain." The other nine Turks ran between decks, where they were securely fastened. The English now directed their course to St. Lucas, in Spain, and "in short time, by God's ayde, happily and safely arrived at the said port, _where they sold the nine Turks for galley slaves, for a good summe of money, and as I thinke, a great deal more than they were worth_."[72] "He that shall attribute such things as these," says the ancient historian, grateful for this triumph of freedom, "to the arm of flesh and blood, is forgetful, ungrateful, and, in a manner, atheistical."

[Footnote 72: Purchas's Pilgrims, vol. ii. pp. 882-883.]

From the same authority I draw another narrative of singular success in achieving freedom. Several Englishmen, being captured and carried into Algiers, were sold as slaves. These are the words of one of their number: "_We were hurried like dogs into the market, where, as men sell hacknies in England, we were tossed up and down to see who would give most for us; and although we had heavy hearts, and looked with sad countenances, yet many came to behold us, sometimes taking us by the hand, sometimes turning us round about, sometimes feeling our brawny and naked armes, and so beholding our prices written in our breasts, they bargained for us accordingly, and at last we were all sold._" Shortly afterwards several were put on board an Algerine corsair to serve as slaves. One of them, John Rawlins, who resembled Cervantes in the hardihood of his exertions for freedom,--as, like him, he had lost the use of an arm,--arranged a rising or insurrection on board. "O hellish slavery," he said, "to be thus subject to dogs! O God! strengthen my heart and hand, and something shall be done to ease us of these mischiefs, and deliver us from these cruel Mohammedan dogs. What can be worse? I will either attempt my deliverance at one time or another, or perish in the enterprise." An auspicious moment was seized; and eight English slaves and one French, with the assistance of four Hollanders, freemen, succeeded, after a bloody contest, in overpowering fifty-two Turks. "When all was done," the story proceeds, "and the ship cleared of the dead bodies, Rawlins assembled his men together, and with one consent gave the praise unto God, using the accustomed service on shipboard, and, for want of books, lifted up their voices to God, as he put into their hearts or renewed their memories; then did they sing a psalm, and, last of all, embraced one another for playing the men in such a deliverance, whereby our fear was turned into joy, and trembling hearts exhilarated that we had escaped such inevitable dangers, and especially the slavery and terror of bondage worse than death itself. The same night we washed our ship, put every thing in as good order as we could, repaired the broken quarter, set up the biticle, and bore up the helme for England, where, by God's grace and good guiding, we arrived at Plimouth, February 17th, 1622."[73]

[Footnote 73: Purchas's Pilgrims, vol. ii. pp. 889-896.]

In 1685, Thomas Phelps and Edward Baxter, Englishmen, accomplished their escape from captivity in Machiness, in Morocco. One of them had made a previous unsuccessful attempt, which drew upon him the punishment of the bastinado, disabling him from work for a twelvemonth; "but such was his love of Christian liberty, that he freely declared to his companion, that he would adventure with any fair opportunity." By devious paths, journeying in the darkness of night, and by day sheltering themselves from observation in bushes, or in the branches of fig trees, they at length reached the sea. With imminent risk of discovery, they succeeded in finding a boat, not far from Sallee. This they took without consulting the proprietor, and rowed to a ship at a distance, which, to their great joy, proved to be an English man-of-war. Making known to its commander the exposed situation of the Moorish ships, they formed part of an expedition in boats, which boarded and burned them, in the night. "One Moor," says the account, "we found aboard, who was presently cut in pieces; another was shot in the head, endeavoring to escape upon the cable; we were not long in taking in our shavings and tar barrels, and so set her on fire in several places, she being very apt to receive what we designed; for there were several barrels of tar upon deck, and she was newly tarred, as if on purpose. Whilst we were setting her on fire, we heard a noise of some people in the hold; we opened the scuttles, and thereby saved the lives of four Christians, three Dutchmen and one French, who told us the ship on fire was Admiral, and belonged to Aly-Hackum, and the other, which we soon after served with the same sauce, was the very ship which in October last took me captive." The Englishman, once a captive, who tells this story, says it is "most especially to move pity for the afflictions of Joseph, to excite compassionate regard to those poor countrymen now languishing in misery and irons, to endeavor their releasement."[74]

[Footnote 74: Osborne's Voyages, vol. ii. pp. 497-510.]

Even the non-resistance of Quakers, animated by a zeal for freedom, contrived to baffle these slave dealers. A ship in the charge of people of this sect became the prey of the Algerines; and the curious story is told with details, unnecessary to mention here, of the effective manner in which the ship was subsequently recaptured by the crew without loss of life. To complete this triumph, the slave pirates were safely landed on their own shores, and allowed to go their way in peace, acknowledging with astonishment and gratitude this new application of the Christian injunction to do good to them that hate you. Charles the Second, learning from the master, on his return, that "he had been taken by the Turks, and redeemed himself without fighting," and that he had subsequently let his enemies go free, rebuked him, saying, with the spirit of a slave dealer, "You have done like a fool, for you might have had a good gain for them." And to the mate he said, "You should have brought the Turks to me." "_I thought it better for them to be in their own country_" was the Quaker's reply.[75]

[Footnote 75: Sewell's History of the Quakers, pp. 392-397.]

In the current of time other instances occurred. A letter from Algiers, dated August 6, 1772, and preserved in the British Annual Register, furnishes the following story:[76] "A most remarkable escape," it says, "of some Christian prisoners has lately been effected here, which will undoubtedly cause those that have not had that good fortune to be treated with utmost rigor. On the morning of the 27th July, the Dey was informed that all the Christian slaves had escaped the over-night in a galley; this news soon raised him, and, upon inquiry, it was found to have been a preconcerted plan. About ten at night, seventy-four slaves, who had found means to escape from their masters, met in a large square near the gate which opens to the harbor, and, being well armed, they soon forced the guard to submit, and, to prevent their raising the city, confined them all in the powder magazine. They then proceeded to the lower part of the harbor, where they embarked on board a large rowing polacre that was left there for the purpose, and, the tide ebbing out, they fell gently down with it, and passed both the forts. As soon as this was known, three large galleys were ordered out after them, but to no purpose. They returned in three days, with the news of seeing the polacre sail into Barcelona, where the galleys durst not go to attack her."

[Footnote 76: Vol. xv. p. 130.]

In the same journal[77] there is a record of another triumph of freedom in a letter from Palma, the capital of Majorca, dated September 3, 1776. "Forty-six captives," it says, "who were employed to draw stones from a quarry some leagues' distance from Algiers, at a place named Genova, resolved, if possible, to recover their liberty, and yesterday took advantage of the idleness and inattention of forty men who were to guard them, and who had laid down their arms, and were rambling about the shore. The captives attacked them with pickaxes and other tools, and made themselves masters of their arms; and, having killed thirty-three of the forty, and eleven of the thirteen sailors who were in the boat which carried the stones, they obliged the rest to jump into the sea. Being then masters of the boat, and armed with twelve muskets, two pistols, and powder, they set sail, and had the good fortune to arrive here this morning, where they are performing quarantine. Sixteen of them are Spaniards, seventeen French, eight Portuguese, three Italian, one a German, and one a Sardinian."

[Footnote 77: Vol. xix. p. 176.]

Thus far I have followed the efforts of European nations, and the struggles of Europeans, unhappy victims to White Slavery. I pass now to America, and to our own country. In the name of fellow-countryman there is a charm of peculiar power. The story of his sorrows will come nearer to our hearts, and, perhaps, to the experience of individuals or families among us, than the story of Spaniards, Frenchmen, or Englishmen. Nor are materials wanting.

Even in the early days of the colonies, while they were yet contending with the savage Indians, many American families were compelled to mourn the hapless fate of brothers, fathers, and husbands doomed to slavery in distant African Barbary. Only five short years after the landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth Rock,[78] it appears from the records of the town, under date of 1625, that "two ships, freighted from Plymouth, were taken by the Turks in the English Channel, and carried into Sallee." A little later, in 1640, "one Austin, a man of good estate," returning discontented to England from Quinipiack, now New Haven, on his way "was taken by the Turks, and his wife and family were carried to Algiers, and sold there as slaves."[79] And, under date of 1671, in the diary of the Rev. John Eliot, the first minister of Roxbury, and the illustrious apostle to the Indians, prefixed to the record of the church in that town, and still preserved in manuscript, these few words tell a story of sorrow: "We heard the sad and heavy tidings concerning the captivity of Captain Foster and his son at Sallee." From further entries in the diary it appears, that, after a bondage of three years, they were redeemed. But the same record shows other victims, for whom the sympathies of the church and neighborhood were enlisted. Here is one: "20 10m. 1674. This Sabbath we had a public collection for Edward Howard of Boston, to redeem him out of his sad Turkish captivity, in which collection was gathered L12 18s. 9d., which, by God's favor, made up the just sum desired." And not long after, at a date left uncertain, it appears that William Bowen "was taken by the Turks;" a contribution was made for his redemption; "and the people went to the public box, young and old, but before the money could answer the end for which the congregation intended it," tidings came of the death of the unhappy captive, and the money was afterwards "improved to build a tomb for the town to inter their ministers."[80]

[Footnote 78: Davis's Extracts relating to Plymouth, p. 3.]

[Footnote 79: Winthrop's Journal, vol. ii. p. 11.]

[Footnote 80: MS. Records of First Church in Roxbury, Massachusetts.]

Instances now thicken. A ship, sailing from Charlestown, in 1678, was taken by a corsair, and carried into Algiers, whence its passengers and crew never returned. They probably died in slavery. Among these was Dr. Daniel Mason, a graduate of Harvard College, and the earliest of that name on the list; also James Ellson, the mate. The latter, in a testamentary letter addressed to his wife, and dated at Algiers, June 30, 1679, desired her to redeem out of captivity two of his companions.[81] At the same period William Harris, a person of consequence in the colony, one of the associates of Roger Williams in the first planting of Providence, and now in the sixty-eighth year of his age, sailing from Boston for England on public business, was also taken by a corsair, and carried into Algiers. On the 23d February, 1679, this veteran,--older than the slaveholder Cato when he learned Greek,--together with all the crew, was sold into slavery. The fate of his companions is unknown; but Mr. Harris, after remaining in this condition more than a year, obtained his freedom at the cost of $1200, called by him "the price of a good farm." The feelings of the people of the colony, touched by these disasters, are concisely expressed in a private letter dated at Boston, New England, November 10, 1680, where it is said, "The Turks have so taken our New England ships richly loaden homeward bound, that it is very dangerous to goe. Many of our neighbors are now in captivity in Argeer. The Lord find out some way for their redemption."[82]

[Footnote 81: Middlesex [Massachusetts] Probate Files in MS.]

[Footnote 82: William Gilbert to Arthur Bridge, MS.]

Still later, as we enter the next century, we meet a curious notice of the captivity of a Bostonian. Under date of Tuesday, January 11, 1714, Chief Justice Samuel Sewell, in his journal, after describing a dinner with Mr. Gee, and mentioning the guests, among whom were the famous divines, Increase and Cotton Mather, adds, "It seems it was in remembrance of his landing this day at Boston, after his Algerine captivity. Had a good treat. Dr. Cotton Mather, in returning thanks, very well comprised many weighty things very pertinently."[83] Among the many weighty things very pertinently comprised by this eminent preacher, in returning thanks, it is hoped, was a condemnation of slavery. Surely he could not then have shrunk from giving utterance to that faith which preaches deliverance to the captive.

[Footnote 83: MS. Journal of Chief Justice Samuel Sewell.]

But leaving the imperfect records of colonial days, I descend at once to that period, almost in the light of these times, when our National Government, justly careful of the liberty of its white citizens, was aroused to put forth all its power in their behalf. The war of the Revolution closed in 1783, by the acknowledgment of the independence of the United States. The new national flag, then freshly unfurled, and hardly known to the world, seemed to have little power to protect persons or property from the outrages of the Barbary States. Within three years, no less than ten American vessels became their prey. At one time an apprehension prevailed, that Dr. Franklin had been captured. "We are waiting," said one of his French correspondents, "with the greatest patience to hear from you. The newspapers have given us anxiety on your account; for some of them insist that you have been taken by the Algerines, while others pretend that you are at Morocco, enduring your slavery with all the patience of a philosopher."[84] The property of our merchants was sacrificed or endangered. Insurance at Lloyd's, in London, could be had only at advanced prices; while it was difficult to obtain freight for American bottoms.[85] The Mediterranean trade seemed closed to our enterprise. To a people filled with the spirit of commerce, and bursting with new life, this in itself was disheartening; but the sufferings of our unhappy fellow-citizens, captives in a distant land, aroused a feeling of a higher strain.

[Footnote 84: Sparks's Works of Franklin, ix. 506, 507; x. 230. M. Le Veillard to Dr. Franklin, October 9, 1785.]

[Footnote 85: Boston Independent Chronicle, April 28, 1785, vol. xvii. No. 866; May 12, 1785, No. 868; Oct. 20, 1785, No. 886; Nov. 3, 1785, No. 888; Nov. 17, 1785, No. 890; March 2, 1786, vol. xviii. No. 908; April 27, 1786, No. 918.]

As from time to time the tidings of these things reached America, a voice of horror and indignation swelled through the land. The slave corsairs of African Barbary were branded sometimes as "infernal crews," sometimes as "human harpies."[86] This sentiment acquired new force, when, at two different periods, by the fortunate escape of captives, what seemed an authentic picture of their condition was presented to the world. The story of these fugitives will show at once the hardships of their lot, and the foundation of the appeal which was soon made to the country with so much effect.

[Footnote 86: Boston Independent Chronicle, May 18, 1786, xviii. No. 916; Sparks's Franklin, ix. 506, 507.]

The earliest of these escapes was in 1788, by a person originally captured in a vessel from Boston. At Algiers he had been, with the rest of the ship's company, exposed for sale at public auction, whence he was sent to the country house of his master, about two miles from town. Here, for the space of eighteen months, he was chained to the wheelbarrow, and allowed only one pound of bread a day, during all which wretched period he had no opportunity to learn the fate of his companions. From the country he was removed to Algiers, where, in a numerous company of white slaves, he encountered three of his shipmates, and twenty-six other Americans. After remaining for some time crowded together in the slave prison, they were all distributed among the different galleys in the service of the Dey. Our fugitive, with eighteen other white slaves, was put on board a xebec, carrying eight six-pounders and sixty men, which, on the coast of Malta, encountered an armed vessel belonging to Genoa, and, after much bloodshed, was taken sword in hand. Eleven of the unfortunate slaves, compelled to this unwelcome service in the cause of a tyrannical master, were killed in the contest, before the triumph of the Genoese could deliver them from their chains. Our countryman and the few still alive were at once set at liberty, and, it is said, "treated with that humanity which distinguishes the Christian from the barbarian."[87]

[Footnote 87: Boston Independent Chronicle, Oct. 16, 1778, vol. xx. No. 1042; History of the War with Tripoli, p. 59.]

His escape was followed in the next year by that of several others, achieved under circumstances widely different. They had entered, about five years before, on board a vessel belonging to Philadelphia, which was captured near the Western Islands, and carried into Algiers. The crew, consisting of twenty persons, were doomed to bondage. Several were sent into the country and chained to work with the mules. Others were put on board a galley and chained to the oars. The latter, tempted by the facilities of their position near the sea, made several attempts to escape, which for some time proved fruitless. At last, the love of freedom triumphing over the suggestions of humanity, they rose upon their overseers; some of whom they killed, and confined others. Then, seizing a small galley of their masters, they set sail for Gibraltar, where in a few hours they landed as freemen.[88] Thus, by killing their keepers and carrying off property not their own, did these fugitive white slaves achieve their liberty.

[Footnote 88: History of the War with Tripoli, p. 62. American Museum, vol. viii. Appendix.]

Such stories could not be recounted without producing a strong effect. The glimpses thus opened into the dread regions of slavery gave a harrowing reality to all that conjecture or imagination had pictured. It was, indeed, true, that our own white brethren, heirs to the freedom newly purchased by precious blood, partakers in the sovereignty of citizenship, belonging to the fellowship of the Christian church, were degraded in unquestioning obedience to an arbitrary taskmaster, sold as beasts of the field, and galled by the manacle and the lash! It was true that they were held at fixed prices; and that their only chance of freedom was to be found in the earnest, energetic, united efforts of their countrymen in their behalf. It is not easy to comprehend the exact condition to which they were reduced. There is no reason to believe that it differed materially from that of other Christian captives in Algiers. The masters of vessels were lodged together, and indulged with a table by themselves, though a small iron ring was attached to one of their legs, to denote that they were slaves. The seamen were taught and obliged to work at the trade of carpenter, blacksmith, and stone mason, from six o'clock in the morning till four o'clock in the afternoon, without intermission, except for half an hour at dinner.[89] Some of the details of their mode of life, as transmitted to us, are doubtless exaggerated. It is, however, sufficient to know that they were slaves; nor is there any other human condition, which, when barely mentioned, even without one word of description, so strongly awakens the sympathies of every just and enlightened lover of his race.

[Footnote 89: History of the War between the United States and Tripoli, p. 52.]