Two hands came aboard just before Mastiff sailed. Both claimed to be off an American merchantman that had sailed without them, and maybe that was true. One seaman, Jonas Fellowes, claimed to have served on a Baltimore based slave ship on several cruises. Seeming to have a plethora of knowledge of the trade, as well as being a skilled seaman, Phillips rated the man as quartermaster’s mate. His station would be near the helm, where he could advise the ships officer’s on matters relating to the slave trade.
At last ready to leave, with casks of salted beef and pork as well as the bags of biscuit taking up all available cargo space, Mastiff set sail. She rode so low in the water, from the extra provisions, since it was uncertain where or when she could re-supply. Phillips knew the sluggish brig would have difficulty taking many prizes initially because of her slow speed. Slave ships were generally fast-sailing craft, so as to be able to get their highly perishable cargo to market before losing too much profit. Of course, the slavers would be low in the water too, at least initially. Later in the voyage, as stores were consumed, and the dead thrown over the side, the ships would rise higher in the water.
The masters of these slave ships usually jammed as many Africans in the bowels of the ships as was physically possible. If there were any delay at all in the progress of the slave ship to its destination, the casualty rate among the Africans would be horrendous.
Of course, it was all business to the owners and captains of these horrors. Little was paid for their victims at the slave barracoons along the western coast of Africa. Owners and captains realized they would lose much of their cargo due to disease and overcrowding. Their hope was a fast passage across the Atlantic to their markets. If such a speedy passage could be made, those having a share of the profits could reap respectable rewards.
Even with a loss rate approaching twenty percent of the slaves, money could still be made, as long as expenses were kept down. It was HMS Mastiff’s duty to apprehend as many of these slavers as she could, rescue as many slaves as possible, and return them to Africa. Since the time many of them had been originally been captured by raiding parties, or had even been sold into slavery by their own tribal leaders, they had been marched over long distances to the coastal barracoon where they were confined until purchased.
Often, the population of the slave barracoon was composed of groups of people from large numbers of tribes, often speaking differing languages. Unable to communicate with their fellow prisoners or their new masters, the individual slaves were in a dreadful predicament.
If a British warship should capture one of the ‘Blackbirder’ slave ships, there was the problem of what to do with the freed slaves. Since it was impractical to send them back to their original homelands, of which there might be dozens or more, some far inland, many were sent to Sierra Leone, which became an important refuge. The colony had previously served as a refuge for slaves from Revolutionary War America who had been re-settled first in Nova Scotia and London before being sent to Africa.
Shipping was plentiful along the African coast. Some of it was legitimate, the trade looking for ivory, gold and other products of the region. Other ships, of course, had loaded trade goods in European ports, which would be used to trade for slaves at the barracoons. Mastiff could not actually interfere with a ship unless she had slaves on board. This was where Fellowes began to earn his keep.
Coming on duty with the morning watch, he called over Mister Devons, a master’s mate taken aboard in Antigua. Pointing towards the African shore to port, the land still hidden in darkness, he reported there was a slave market and barracoon up a small river just ahead. Devons said large ships could not get over the bar at the mouth of the river, so they sent launches upstream to the market. He said there was a rather exposed anchorage where the slave ships sometimes waited.
As soon as Phillips came on deck, Mister Devons brought Fellowes over to him. After listening to the explanation, Phillips asked how they could determine whether any ship they spotted in the anchorage had any slaves aboard.
Devons explained what he knew. “Sir, an important chief of the region had some slave pens set up at the end of an overland trading route here. Arab traders sometimes drive slave coffles to this post, where they are purchased by the local chief. He sells the slaves to any European ship that comes along looking for this type of cargo. Ships do not come every day though, and sometimes the slaves have to stay in the pens for weeks. When a ship does come, its captain may not like the price asked or the condition of the slaves. A ship leaving may have a full load, or it may be empty. About the only way to be certain would be to come in the anchorage as they are loading.”
At any rate, it was decided to continue on past the anchorage as their presence had doubtless been noted. When the sun was well up and the ship south of the anchorage, she turned to starboard and made her way back out to sea. Retracing her route, she found herself at dusk again off the river’s mouth, but out of sight of land. The ship’s boats were manned with armed seamen and Marines and set out for the anchorage, with the first officer in command of the expedition.
Hours passed and Phillips worried. It was late afternoon when a large, ship-rigged vessel was spotted coming toward them towing their boats.
Mister Burns had a grin that spread across his face when he boarded Mastiff. “She is a legal prize, sir. She is the ‘Mary Parker’ out of Liverpool, bound for Louisiana. She has fifty Blacks on board, all that were in the slave pens when she arrived. A large coffle is expected any day now, and her master and many of her crew were ashore waiting for that to arrive. We came alongside and heard the noise the slaves were making on board. We had been spotted by the anchor watch, so I gave the order to board and up we went. There were only a few crewmen on board and most of them were drunk and below decks with their native women. There were some Black guards to keep the slaves under control, but they mostly dropped into their own boats when they saw our weapons.”
Phillips wondered, “Do you know where the members of the crew that went ashore are?”
Burns replied, “Two of the men remaining on board were Swedes, who could speak a little English. Fellowes had a talk with them.. He thinks the crew went to a party the chief here was hosting. A runner had reported the Arab traders were nearing the village and would likely arrive next day. Apparently, the slaver captain wanted to get an early idea of the quality on the incoming captives. This village is a few miles up the river by the slave pens. I did not like the idea of rowing up the river in the dark. We had possession of the ship so decided to bring her out.”
“And you decided correctly, Mister Burns.” Phillips decreed.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Wishing to deliver his captive slaves to freedom in Sierra Leone as soon as possible, HMS Mastiff set course for that destination. During a spell of fine weather, Phillips went aboard the prize to examine the situation.
He had Mister Devons, a master’s mate, commanding the prize with Fellowes assisting him, along with a few seamen and a file of Marines. Sergeant Henderson was in charge of keeping their passengers in order. Surviving members of the slave ship’s crew were put in their own irons and chained below. At first, the Marines stowed the former crew members in the same compartment as some of their victims, but this did not work well. There was continual commotion as the Blacks shouted threats in all the languages of western and central Africa and did their best to free themselves so as to get at their former persecutors.
He had initially tried to remove shackles from several of the slaves but these men, not understanding, tried to seize muskets from his men. The shackles were quickly restored. Phillips agreed with his Devon’s actions, deciding to allow the shore-side people at Sierra Leone to explain matters to their new citizens.
It was possible to relieve conditions below decks a bit. With so few people aboard this big ship, it was not necessary to crowd its passengers into a small space. The previous crew, planning on loading hundreds more people, had jammed the present fifty into a corner of the mid-
ship hold, where they were acutely uncomfortable. With some effort, individuals were freed from their shackles and moved to a separate area of the hold.
With the people spread out more, it was possible for them to have just the slightest bit of extra comfort. Noticing several of the Blacks making pantomime motions, he asked Fellowes what was the difficulty.
“They’re hungry, sir. We’re trying to boil up some of their rations, but they don’t seem to like them much.” After inspecting the un-appetizing gruel simmering in the big pot, Phillips, after a taste, decided he didn’t care that much for the food himself. “What is this? Phillips asked.
“Ground millet”, replied Felloes. ‘
“That is what they feed the slaves around here. The trouble is, some of these people come from areas where millet is not grown, or else they have a different variety.”
After some discussion, some of the beef that had been soaking for tomorrow’s meal for Mastiff’s crew was diced up into small pieces and tossed into the gruel. Two bags of ship’s biscuit were brought over also. This was rather fresh, having been baked in Spanish ovens just a few weeks before and had not had nearly enough time to gain the expected population of weevils.
While still strange to the captive’s palate, the people did at least eat this food. There were some women and even a few children in chains and Phillips ordered them freed. They were given a section of the foredeck and supplied with water and more biscuit. When no difficulty arose, several of the calmer-appearing men were also freed from their chains. All went well until one well-built man yanked the unlocked chain from the grasp of the seaman who had freed him and proceeded to beat another captive, this one still locked up.
There was turmoil on deck until the crew of seamen and Marines got the chain away from the man and tied him down to ringbolts on the deck. When calm was restored, Phillips asked Fellowes, now sporting some angry looking wounds himself, if he knew what the fight was about.
Fellowes was not sure, but felt some of the blame must be held by the Arab traders that travelled around to the various tribal areas. These men, well-armed with muskets, of which most tribesmen were deathly afraid, would come to a village and negotiate with the tribal chief. This leader would be offered payment in muskets and ammunition if he would supply the traders with healthy people to take away. These could be from his own tribe, those the chief was perhaps having differences with, or they could be from a neighboring tribe.
At any rate, men and women would disappear down the trail, never to be seen again. Unless, perhaps those same traders convinced another group to take their revenge for the terrible injustice perpetrated, by seizing those perpetrators of the first crime. Soon, the entire region would be in turmoil as populations strived to find where their loved ones had gone, and took vengeance on those they deemed responsible.
Those muskets, for which the chieftains traded their best young people to gain, did them little good. Generally cast-off weapons, left over from the wars in Europe, they were often inoperable from the start. Even if the weapons did function some of the time, the ammunition was often damaged from poor storage, and it would be unusual for any individual musket to fire.
Suspicion was rampant among the peoples, all wondering if this neighbor or even relative had had anything to do with the disappearance of a beloved family member.
Phillips had no idea of how to solve the matter. He only knew, so long as some humans were willing to purchase other humans to do their work for them, slavery was bound to endure, laws or no laws.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Taking their departure from Freetown in Sierra Leone, after off-loading the freed captives, HMS Mastiff sailed back to inspect the little port where she had been so successful weeks before. Finding the place empty, ship and crew continued south, for another, larger port Fellowes was familiar with.
Unable to sleep in the sweltering heat, Phillips was nattering on the quarterdeck with his first officer. Mister Burns had casually wondered what might have happened to the crew of the slaver they had captured. Apparently the men had been attending some sort of negotiating conference with the local chieftain when their ship vanished.
Fellowes was at the helm when the question aired. Normally, hands at work were expected to ignore casual conversation among the officers and continue with their duty. Apparently, Fellowes felt, at this moment, he could express his own opinion without suffering any consequences.
“Sir”, Fellowes began. “By now, I imagine the captain and the crew with him are now well on their way to North Africa.”
Curious, Phillips wondered why North Africa would be their new destination.
“Sir, that chieftain and the Arab traders make a living buying and selling slaves. The Arabs will no doubt sell their coffle to the chief, but they will still need bearers to carry off the other items of trade they have. Ivory, palm oil and the like. They could just keep some of the Blacks to do that work, but here in the village they find a party of stranded whites who have lost their ship. Why not buy these men from the chieftain and use them to carry their trade goods north?”
“But why buy white slaves? Who would buy them later on?’” questioned Mister Burns.
“Oh sir, The Arab slavers do not worry about little things such as the color of skin when doing business. Up north, near the Med, the Arabs hold whites by the thousands, using them as they do with other slaves. Men, women and children who have been taken from pirated ships the Moorish rovers have seized. Some pirates go raiding European towns and villages close to shore to obtain slaves to sell in their markets. The captain of the slave ship will fit right in there, working alongside with slaves from every European nation as well as Africa and even Asia.
Continuing south, the brig entered a large bay, with a number of tributaries flowing into it. Using his glass, Phillips could see native huts by the score on shore, and even an impressive stone-built fort. Fellowes commented, “The fort was built by Portuguese ages ago. They have left long since and now a local prince holds the place. There are embrasures for guns on the battlements, but someone carried the guns off long since.”
He continued. “They probably are not needed. The prince has thousands of native soldiers under his command and these men are not afraid of their muskets, and know how to use them. Any European power attempting to take the place would find it hard going.”
“The market place for buying slaves is inside the fort. One needs to approach the fort by boat, landing on the beach in front. It is considered good form to carry a present to the prince with you when you visit.”
Phillips decided he did not really need to meet with the prince. He certainly was not about to give him any kind of present. Just looking about the anchorage, he could see several ships that looked as though they might be in the ‘Blackbirding’ business. These, except for one, were capacious looking merchant vessels.
That one though, was a deadly looking ship that he was sure had been built in a French shipyard as one of the 40 gun ‘Minerve’ class frigates. He knew in French service the frigate would have carried eighteen-pounder guns in her main batteries as well as eight-pounders up forward and aft. There was of course no way HMS Mastiff could face such a fully armed frigate.
However, if the ship had been sold out of France’s naval service and stripped down to carry slaves, the conditions were altered. A slave ship could not carry both a large crew and a large cargo of human captives simultaneously. Too, when she served as a French cruiser during the war, she needed large numbers of personnel to man her guns and to fight the ship.
The space needed for all of these people would now be used for their cargo. With their captive cargo jammed together and tightly secured, there was little need for large numbers of men to guard them. And, of course, there was little room on deck for the big guns. Perhaps a few eight-pounders on the quarterdeck and a few more up forward as protection against local marauders and pirates.
He made a tentative decision to pay close attention to this former frigate. Ful
ly laden, she could carry more slaves than any of the other smaller ships visible in the harbor, and probably deliver them faster. Wishing to learn as much as possible about the ship, he gave orders that the officer of every watch should endeavor to keep a glass trained on the ship at all times.
It was Devons, commanding the anchor watch, who sent Mister Lewis, a fourteen year old mid to wake him in the middle watch. Lewis, warned by his peers of the horrible punishments liable to be inflicted upon him if he erred, was terrified, but did his duty. Not quite understanding the incoherent explanation of the mid, Phillips arose anyway and went out onto the quarterdeck.
Devons met him with his glass and silently indicated the former frigate, moored nearby. Phillips accepted the glass but could make out nothing alarming on the ship. It was showing rather more lights than was its custom, but Phillips could discern nothing alarming about that. Almost intending to blister the young man’s ears for waking him uselessly, he instead sent Mister Lewis back to his quarters to retrieve his own private night glass, an instrument with superior light-gathering powers.
The faint creaking of strained tackle coming across the water caused Phillips to pay extra attention to his efforts. Puzzled, he handed his glass to Lewis to learn if the lad’s young eyes could identify what was going on.
It took the boy some time to come to grips with the upside-down image, but when the lad seemed comfortable, Phillips asked him what he was seeing.
“Sir, it looks like they are lowering a gun using tackle from the main yard into a boat.”
With the class in his hands again, it was obvious the midshipman was correct. As he watched, the gun settled into the boat, and the tackle loosened. The boat then headed straight for the stone fortress. Later that night, another gun was seen being pulled from a hatch and also lowered into a boat.
Thunder On the Sea: A Tim Phillips novel (War at Sea Book 11) Page 11
