The Amistad Rebellion

by Marcus Rediker

  Meanwhile, the Africans worked the ship, but the sailing was not easy. Lacking a pilot and having no local knowledge, on several occasions they got into dangerously shallow waters, hitting the bottom or, worse, rock formations invisible beneath the surface, which damaged the hull. Accidents tore away pieces of the hull that gave protection, strength, and lateral resistance to the keel. Another time they lost an anchor. Montes recalled a moment when they repeatedly struck rocks; “it was next to a miracle that [the vessel] was not wrecked.” This being summer in the Caribbean, they also experienced several tropical storms. They were forced to weather “violent gales” under “bare poles”—that is, without sails, to reduce resistance to the winds and prevent capsizing. They rocked and rolled with the winds and waves, thinking all the while that everyone aboard was going to die.49

  The Africans did their best not only to sail the vessel, but to appease the apparently angry water spirits (jina) who governed their way. The two went hand in hand, as the peoples of southern Sierra Leone, especially those who lived on or near riverine systems, as many of the rebels did, saw supernatural beings associated with the water as important figures. Such spirits, they believed, could help the waterborne traveler or, if they were unhappy and not properly placated, could create utter disaster. When the Amistad was once run aground, Montes recalled, “the negroes began to perform superstitious ceremonies; they threw their shirts over board, the pots and other utensils.” Some of these “utensils” were apparently the manacles, shackles, neck-rings, and chains from which they had liberated themselves, now thrown into the angry seas. The rebels then brought to Montes “a piece of plate, a pistol and other articles [so] that he might throw them overboard.” They then explained to him and Ruiz that “the object of these ceremonies was to break the charm in which they supposed they were; they said the plate, which was white, was to please God, and that the dirty and black articles were to please the Devil”—or so the matter seemed to Montes as he translated it into Christian categories. On another occasion, everyone took off their clothes and cast them into the sea, donning new, clean ones immediately thereafter. The old clothes were likely meant as gifts to appease Mami Wata, the female water spirit worshiped by peoples from Senegal to Angola and around the Black Atlantic. Her name grew from the pidgin language of trade on the African coast and she was thought to mediate relationships between Africans and foreigners. The Amistad Africans desperately needed her help.50

  They also needed fresh water, and often the only available source was other vessels. Thirst compelled communication. One such encounter was with the Kingston, whose sailors were at first afraid to come alongside the Amistad, but eventually did so. In broken English Burna “asked those on board of the schooner if they were very far from Africa, and if they would sell them water, rice, and rum.” At the end of a halting, confused conversation, he exchanged a doubloon and a few shillings for a quarter cask of water, sweet potatoes, and sea biscuit, but he got no information about proximity to their native land.51

  After about six weeks Montes grew discouraged. He thought that he, and indeed everyone on the ship, was doomed. He “made up his mind to die.” By this time they had only one cask of water on board and no prospect of getting more anytime soon; they were heading east with no land in sight and no other vessels nearby. As Burna noted, “hard wind—broke the sails” and of course they had no instruments of navigation. In desperation, Montes asked Ruiz if they should propose going to the United States. It seemed their only hope. Ruiz agreed that they should try it.52

  Montes then “asked the negroes if they wished to go to a free country where there were no slaves.” In terrible need of water and knowing that a long voyage was at this point out of the question, they answered yes, they were “willing to go.” To the long-term goal of “going home to Mendi” was now added another, necessary short-term goal: to find a place that was not “slavery country.” Was the United States such a place? Montes lied, saying that it was, adding that it was not far away, only an eight-to ten-day voyage “if the weather was good.” Montes “intended to go to the southern part of the United States,” because it was nearest and no doubt because officials there were most likely to be sympathetic and turn the world right side up—that is, free the white Cubans and restore the Africans to bondage. In any case, the rebels now had an immediate, achievable objective. They tacked west and north, riding the North Equatorial Current, moving into the powerful Gulf Stream that would carry them more than a thousand miles up the North American coast.53

  This would be the most difficult part of the voyage. Some of the Africans had already grown weak, some with dysentery, more with dehydration. Several would die; survivors would be reduced to drinking and cooking with sea water, which of course only made the dehydration worse, leading to muscle spasms, bloated limbs, seizures, kidney failure, and death. Some lost so much weight that they were “emaciated to mere skeletons.”54

  Under such circumstances, suspicions continued to run high against Montes and Ruiz, who were thought still to be plotting to take them back to Havana. Another Poro meeting resulted in yet another death sentence for Montes. Cinqué came up on the main deck with a dagger and a sword, and he and the rest of the men “sung the death song round him; all joined in the song and in the threats.” This ritual song and dance of Mende warriors again reverberated around the Amistad. Making “the most horrible contortions with his eyes” as he engaged in Mende war ritual, Cinqué prepared to kill Montes, but once again he was restrained, this time by two or three of his comrades, one of whom was surely Burna, who remained the Spaniards’ steadfast protector. Burna even promised to “sleep near them” so that they would not be killed in the middle of the night.55

  As they neared the American coast after seven weeks of sailing, they encountered more vessels, many of which they would now ask their main question: were they near Africa? On several other occasions, as approaching captains eyed the Amistad with the intention of taking it into port and claiming it—and its people—as salvaged property, the Africans grew suspicious, armed themselves, and drove their would-be captors away. Sailing up the coast off Fire Island and Long Island, they spotted Montauk Point Lighthouse, the oldest in North America. Some of the Africans, according to Montes, initially mistook this for the coast of Africa. They told Montes to steer towards it, which he did. They anchored that evening about a mile offshore and sent four or five men in the boat to search for water, which they found. Had they arrived in a place that was not “slavery country”? Montes had suggested that “the slaves friends lived there.”56

  They spent the entire next day loading water and in the end delegated a man named Fa, who probably had the skills of a warrior and scout, to explore what lay beyond the beach. Fa ended up staying out overnight, which worried his shipmates, who berated Ruiz and Montes, saying with sarcasm that the “country must be very free indeed” to have captured and “bound their comrade.” When they went ashore early the next morning, they found a piece of rope, which they thought had been used to capture their brother. Their worst fears were confirmed.57

  Later that morning, around ten a.m., after the rebels had returned to the Amistad, they saw a white man standing with Fa on the shore. The body language and other signals of their comrade indicated that all was well. They rejoiced and dispatched a small group to meet them. In half an hour they returned with “a bottle of gin and some sweet potatoes.” Around two o’ clock several more white men appeared on the beach, on horseback, with wagons. Captain Henry Green, Captain Peletiah Fordham, Schuyler Conklin, and Seymour G. Sherman had been out hunting with their muskets and dogs when they encountered Fa and the other white man. They made “a great noise” and summoned the Africans on the vessel to come ashore to meet them. Two boatloads, about twenty in all, rowed over to Culloden Point.58

  When the Africans disembarked, they approached the white men, Burna stepping forward to ask fateful questions: “What country is this?” he asked. Green replied, this is America. Burna conti
nued, with urgency, “Is this slavery country?” No, came the answer, there is no slavery here; and indeed there was not: New York had abolished slavery in 1827. “Any Spanish here?” No: “It is a free country.” As soon as Cinqué understood the answers, he let loose with a joyous whistle and yell, signaling the rest of the Africans, who “all ran from the sand and shouted.” They burst into rapture, whooping and hollering, dancing and celebrating. Their exuberant actions surprised and scared the white men. Green explained, “We were alarmed and ran to our waggons for our guns.” The fear could not compromise the victory. After a journey that began in West Africa four and half months earlier, and a storm-filled, deadly voyage of 1,400 miles over the previous eight weeks, the Amistad Africans had at long last arrived in a place that was not “slavery country.”59

  Danger and Deception

  Having found in a free land white men who were apparently willing to help them, the Amistad Africans tried to make the most of a big opportunity. Yet they proceeded cautiously, understanding the divergence of interests in the encounter at Culloden Point. They desperately wanted to sail to Sierra Leone and needed the help of the white men to do so. But could the white men actually help them? Somehow the Amistad Africans figured out that Green and Fordham were ship captains who had maritime knowledge and experience. Burna cleverly chose two places the white men were most likely to have heard of—Sierra Leone and Gambia—to describe where they wanted to go. He pointed east and said, “Make sail and go.”60

  The white men, however, did not want to go to West Africa, and the last thing they wanted to do was actually to help the rebels. They wanted to get their hands on any money the Africans might have on board the Amistad, and to get possession of the ship itself. They already had some understanding of the situation, for they had read about the mysterious “long, low black schooner,” said to be flush with gold, in the newspapers.61

  The most immediate task of the Amistad Africans was now to calm the fears aroused by their boisterous celebration of freedom. They initiated a ritual of peacemaking, what they would have called a “peace palaver.” They gathered around the white men in as friendly and unthreatening a way as they could, shaking their hands and offering gifts, a hat and a handkerchief at first, then more importantly, their weapons: they handed over a loaded musket and, crucially for the Mende warriors, a cane knife. As Cinqué explained, at this moment the “black men gave up the knife.” He referred to the ritual of symbolic surrender among the Mende, when warriors acknowledged defeat and placed their fates in the hands of a stronger force. Thus they surrendered themselves, their weapons, and their vessel, but all with a condition attached: the white men must help them sail over the “great waters” to get home.62

  The Amistad Africans knew that surrender might not be enough and that the white men wanted money. They too were capable of deception, and having little money to offer, they contrived a ruse. First they showed that they had some money by buying two hunting dogs from the white men for a doubloon each. Then they returned to the vessel and filled two chests with the metal parts of plantation sugar machinery, locked them, and rowed ashore with them. They hoisted the heavy chests and shook them to suggest to the white men the reward for taking them to Sierra Leone. Burna said to them, “money,” held up four fingers and added, “400 doubloons.” Of the “two trunks [that] were brought on shore by the blacks,” Fordham recalled that he and Cinqué “lifted one trunk, and I heard the money rattle. Me and another nigger lifted the other trunk, and then I heard some more money.” At that point, Fordham explained, “we determined to have the vessel at all hazards—forcibly if we can, peaceably if we must.” Green also heard the clanking of what he thought was coin and asked if he could go on board the Amistad. He admitted, “It was my object to take possession of the vessel.” The answer, however, was no, not yet. Tomorrow the Amistad Africans would take the white men on board, probably after a meeting of the collective, perhaps with the intention of kidnapping them if they could not otherwise persuade them to sail the vessel to Africa. Fordham worried that they might encounter trouble if they went on board.63

  The excitement of the Amistad Africans in discovering a “free country” was tempered by disorientation and fear. Their lack of geographical knowledge continued to plague them. Having spent much time on the “trackless ocean,” with no landmarks in sight, and finding themselves now in a strange land, they had little idea how far they were from Africa. They had some notion that it was still distant, as they later stated they had not been able to get as much water as they wanted for the long voyage home. They also knew, of course, that their dealings with the white men might not work out. So they developed a secondary strategy to guarantee their hard-won freedom. Having sailed for many miles along uninhabited parts of Fire Island and Long Island on their way to Culloden Point, they saw land they might have considered suitable for building a runaway community (marronage), which was a well-known practice of resistance against slavery in Sierra Leone, Cuba, and the southern United States. Indeed, they had probably anchored and rowed a small boat ashore several times along the way and would have found resources, from fresh water to edible plant life to wild game, especially deer. Hence they bought the hunting dogs in case they should need to settle in a remote, uninhabited area. Pie would use the dogs and his skills as a hunter to provide food for the group.64

  A disturbingly familiar vessel suddenly appeared on the horizon. Looking out to sea, everyone on shore “saw a brig standing to the eastward.” Burna asked, “Where that came from?” It was the United States brig Washington, a navy survey vessel, and it was sailing directly for the Amistad, anchored a few hundred yards offshore. The Africans instantly grew agitated. It was, after all, a brig, the same kind of ship as the Teçora, on which they had made the Middle Passage from the Gallinas Coast to Havana. In short, it looked like a slave ship. They urgently turned to the white men to ask if that vessel “made slaves.” Green and his colleagues, wanting the Amistad Africans to stay on shore, said yes, it did, but their answer had the opposite effect of what they had hoped for, causing the Africans to jump into their boats and row hard toward the Amistad.65

  If the Africans thought the Washington was a slave ship, Lieutenant Thomas Gedney aboard the naval vessel thought the Amistad was a pirate, or a smuggler, as suggested by the “men and carts” involved in trade ashore. Gedney dispatched a boat with Lieutenant Richard Meade and several armed sailors to board the Amistad. As Meade later testified, they arrived at the vessel, “jumped on deck, and drove the Africans below.” As they took charge of the Amistad they encountered the grateful Pedro Montes and José Ruiz, who tearfully proclaimed the sailors their saviors, as indeed they were. Montes hugged Meade so hard the officer had to threaten to shoot him to make him relax his grip. Meade then offered Montes and Ruiz the tender embrace of white-skin privilege. He freed them as he locked the Africans in the hold, the very place where they had originally hatched their plot for freedom.66

  Meade and company encountered only fifteen Africans on the vessel, four of them children, and most of the rest probably sick, emaciated, and otherwise weak, as the strongest and fittest would have been rowing to shore, filling water casks, and negotiating with the white men. It is impossible to be sure what would have happened if the full body of healthier warriors had made it back to the Amistad before the naval detachment arrived, but it seems likely that they would have fought back and attempted to escape. Gedney certainly thought so. Cinqué had apparently long maintained that, if attacked, they would kill Montes and Ruiz, and that they would themselves consider it better to die fighting than to be enslaved again.67

  Meantime the Amistad Africans in the boat witnessed the capture of their vessel. They reversed course and now rowed with all their might back toward shore. With the Amistad under control, Meade dispatched a group of sailors to follow the remaining Africans. When they caught up to them, Midshipman David Porter “fired a pistol with a ball over their heads, and took a musket and pointed at them with it and
made motions to them to go on board the Schooner.” They submitted, rowed back, and went aboard.68

  Cinqué made one last bid for freedom. Trusting his skill as a swimmer and diver, he “jumped up the hatch way—and sprang over board” into the water. Meade sent yet another boat after him, and the chase was on. An eyewitness noted that at one point Cinqué stayed under water for “at least five minutes.” Whenever and wherever he came up for air, the sailors rowed after him in hot pursuit, only to watch him go under and pop up somewhere else a little later. This aquatic game of hide and seek went on for forty exhausting minutes until Porter pointed a gun at Cinqué again, then commanded the sailors to bring him aboard the boat by slipping a boat hook under his wet clothes. Pulled up into the boat, Cinqué “smiled and putting his hands to his throat, intimated that he was going to be hanged.”69

  Events off Long Island had not gone unnoticed, as newspapers published lurid accounts of the mysterious “long, low black schooner.” On August 31, 1839, the New York Sun reported, in a widely circulated and influential account, that Cinqué gave two speeches on the Amistad after he and his comrades had been captured by Meade and his crew. In the first, which was said to have been remembered and translated by Antonio, Cinqué told his countrymen,