“I have no complaint to make of my treatment, sir,” replied Madison. “You have been just and kind to me; and since you manifest so much interest in me, I will tell you what it is that makes me so gloomy.”
He then related his story, and told how his heart was homesick for his dear Susan. He said she was so handsome that they would ask a high price for her, and he had been calculating that it would take him years to earn enough to buy her; meanwhile, he knew not what might happen to her. There was no law to protect a slave, and he feared all sorts of things; especially, he was afraid they might sell her to the far South, where he could never trace her. So he said he had made up his mind to go back to Virginia and try to bring her away. Mr. Dickson urged him not to attempt it. He reminded him of the dangers he would incur: that he would run a great risk of getting back into Slavery, and that perhaps he himself would be sold to the far South, where he never would be able to communicate with his wife. But Madison replied, “I am well aware of that, sir; but freedom does me no good unless Susan can share it with me.”
He accordingly left his safe place of refuge, and started for Virginia. He had free-papers made out, which he thought would protect him till he arrived in the neighborhood where he was known. He also purchased several small files and saws, which he concealed in the lining of his clothes. With these tools he thought he could effect his escape from prison, if he should be taken up on the suspicion of being a runaway slave. Passing through the State of Ohio, he met several who had previously seen him on his way to Canada. They all tried to persuade him not to go back to Virginia; telling him there were nine chances out of ten that he would get caught and carried back into Slavery again. But his answer always was, “Freedom does me no good while my wife is a slave.”
When he came to the region where he was known, he hid in woods and swamps during the day, and travelled only in the night. At last he came in sight of his master’s farm, and hid himself in the woods near by. There he remained several days, in a dreadful state of suspense and anxiety. He could not contrive any means to obtain information concerning his wife. He was afraid they might have sold her, for fear she would follow him. He prowled about in the night, in hopes of seeing some old acquaintance, who would tell him whether she was still at the old place; but he saw no one whom he could venture to trust. At last fortune favored him. One evening he heard many voices singing, and he knew by their songs that they were slaves. As they passed up the road, he came out from the woods and joined them. There were so many of them that the addition of one more was not noticed. He found that they were slaves from several plantations, who had permits from their masters to go to a corn-shucking. They were merry, for they were expecting to have a lively time and a comfortable supper. Being a moonless evening, they could not see Madison’s face, and he was careful not to let them discover who he was. He went with them to the corn-shucking; and, keeping himself in the shadow all the time, he contrived, in the course of conversation, to find out all he wanted to know. Susan was not sold, and she was living in the same house where he had left her. He was hungry, for he had been several days without food, except such as he could pick up in the woods; but he did not dare to show his face at the supper, where dozens would be sure to recognize him. So he skulked away into the woods again, happy in the consciousness that his Susan was not far off.
He resolved to attempt to see her the next night. He was afraid to tap at her window after all the people in the Great House were abed and asleep; for, as she supposed he was in Canada, he thought she might be frightened and call somebody. He therefore ventured to approach her room in the evening. Unfortunately, the overseer saw him, and called a number of whites, who rushed into the room just as he entered it. He fought hard, and knocked down three of them in his efforts to escape. But they struck at him with their bowie-knives till he was so faint with loss of blood that he could resist no longer. They chained him and carried him to Richmond, where he was placed in the jail. His prospects were now dreary enough. His long-cherished hope of being reunited to his dear wife vanished away in the darkness of despair.
There was a slave-trader in Richmond buying a gang of slaves for the market of New Orleans. Madison Washington was sold to him, and carried on board the brig Creole, owned by Johnson and Eperson, of Richmond, and commanded by Captain Enson. The brig was lying at the dock waiting for her cargo, which consisted of tobacco, hemp, flax, and slaves. There were two separate cabins for the slaves: one for the men and the other for the women. Some of the poor creatures belonged to Johnson and Eperson, some to Thomas McCargo, and some to Henry Hewell. Each had a little private history of separation and sorrow. There was many a bleeding heart there, beside the noble heart that was throbbing in the bosom of Madison Washington. His purchasers saw that he was intelligent, and they knew that he was sold for having escaped to Canada. He was therefore chained to the floor of the cabin and closely watched. He seemed quiet and even cheerful, and they concluded that he was reconciled to his fate. On the contrary, he was never further from such a state of mind. He closely observed the slaves who were in the cabin with him. His discriminating eye soon selected those whom he could trust. To them he whispered that there were more than a hundred slaves on board, and few whites. He had his saws and files still hidden in the lining of his clothes. These were busily used to open their chains, while the captain and crew were asleep. They still continued to wear their chains, and no one suspected that they could slip their hands and feet out at their pleasure.
When the Creole had been nine days out they encountered rough weather. Most of the slaves were sea-sick, and therefore were not watched so closely as usual. On the night of November 7, 1841, the wind was blowing hard. The captain and mate were on deck, and nearly all the crew. Mr. Henry Hewell, one of the owners of the cargo of slaves, who had formerly been a slave-driver on a plantation, was seated on the companion, smoking a cigar. The first watch had just been summoned, when Madison Washington sprang on deck, followed by eighteen other slaves. They seized whatever they could find to use as weapons. Hewell drew a pistol from under his coat, fired at one of the slaves and killed him. Madison Washington struck at him with a capstan-bar, and he fell dead at his feet. The first and second mates both attacked Madison at once. His strong arms threw them upon the deck wounded, but not killed. He fought for freedom, not for revenge; and as soon as they had disarmed the whites and secured them safely, he called out to his accomplices not to shed blood. With his own hands he dressed the wounds of the crew, and told them they had nothing to fear if they would obey his orders. The man who had been a chained slave half an hour before was now master of the vessel, and his grateful companions called him Captain Washington. Being ignorant of navigation, he told Merritt, the first mate, that he should have the freedom of the deck, if he would take an oath to carry the brig faithfully into the nearest port of the British West Indies; and he was afraid to do otherwise.
The next morning Captain Washington ordered the cook to prepare the best breakfast the store-room could furnish, for it was his intention to give all the freed slaves a good meal. The women, who had been greatly frightened by the tumult the night before, were glad enough to come out of their close cabin into the fresh air. And who do you think was among them? Susan, the beautiful young wife of Madison, was there! She had been accused of communicating with her husband in Canada, and being therefore considered a dangerous person, she had been sold to the slave-trader to be carried to the market of New Orleans. Neither of them knew that the other was on board. With a cry of surprise and joy they rushed into each other’s arms. The freed slaves threw up their caps and hurrahed again and again, till the sea-gulls wondered at the noise. O, it was a joyful, joyful time! Captain Washington was repaid for all he had suffered. He had gained his own liberty, after having struggled for it in vain for years; he had freed a hundred and thirty-four of his oppressed brethren and sisters; and he had his beloved Susan in his arms, carrying her to a land where the laws would protect their domestic happiness. H
e felt richer at that moment than any king with a golden crown upon his head.
There had been but two lives lost. One white man was killed in the affray, and he was the slave-driver who shot down one of the slaves. Captain Enson and others who were wounded were kindly cared for by Captain Washington. They proved ungrateful, and tried to regain possession of the vessel and the slaves. The blacks were so exasperated by this attempt, that they wanted to kill all the whites on board. But Captain Washington called out to them: “We have got our liberty, and that is all we have been fighting for. Let no more blood be shed! I have promised to protect these men. They have shown that they are not worthy of it; but let us be magnanimous.”
Next morning the Creole arrived at Nassau, in the island of New Providence. Captain Washington and his companions sprang out upon free soil. There he and his beloved Susan are living under the protection of laws which make no distinctions on account of complexion.
ROBERT PURVIS
“A Priceless Picture
History of Sinque, the Hero of the Amistad”
In 1889, the Philadelphia-based African American Robert Purvis (1810–1898), who had played a key role in the antislavery movement, told a reporter from the Philadelphia Inquirer the story of his 1841 encounter with Madison Washington. Frederick Douglass had mentioned that encounter in his anticolonization speech of April 1849 (excerpted in this volume). For the first time, Purvis offered an account that directly linked Washington to the Amistad rebellion of July 1839. In that rebellion, Africans on board the Cuban slave ship Amistad killed a number of their captors, took control of the ship, and guided it to Long Island, New York, where it was seized by the U.S. Navy. The leader of the rebellion, Cinqué (the Philadelphia Inquirer adopts an alternative spelling), and some of his compatriots were arrested and held for two years in jails in New Haven, Connecticut, before former president John Quincy Adams (1767–1848) convinced the U.S. Supreme Court to grant the rebels their freedom. Purvis, who was wealthy, was so inspired by the Amistad rebellion that he commissioned the New Haven–born artist Nathaniel Jocelyn (1796–1881) to paint a portrait of Cinqué (see figure 6). According to Purvis, the painting arrived at his Philadelphia home on the same day that Washington was passing through on his way from Canada to Virginia. Purvis’s story may not be completely historically reliable, but it remains important for offering a strong link between the Amistad and Creole rebellions. For many African Americans of the nineteenth century, these two rebellions constituted part of a heroic legacy of black resistance to slavery. The article appeared in the 26 December 1889 issue of the Philadelphia Inquirer, the source of the text below.
Do you know that that painting was the cause of freeing several hundred slaves and settling forever the rights of freedom to slaves who sought refuge on British soil?”
Robert Purvis, the old-time Abolitionist, Independent Republican and Reformer, asked this question of an INQUIRER reporter in the sitting room of Mr. Purvis’ residence, at the northwest corner of Sixteenth and Mount Vernon streets, yesterday. The painting referred to hangs on the south wall of the room directly above Mr. Purvis’ desk. It is the half-length representation of a full-blooded African negro. The right side of the body is nude and the other side is covered by a strip of white cloth. The right hand grasps a heavy spear. The man is powerful and athletic looking, but the face wears an unusually intelligent expression. The forehead is high and broad; the eyes bright and fearless; the chin strong, and the picture gives one the impression of being the faithful likeness of a brave, intrepid leader, with strong arms, iron will and superb intellect.
“The history of that picture has never been fully written,” continued Mr. Purvis, “though some events which have since become a part of the history of this country, and of Great Britain, too, might be traced to it. The painting represents ‘Sinque, the Hero of the Amistad.’ I had it painted almost fifty years ago, by Nathaniel Jocelyn, then a well-known artist, whom I sent to New Haven to obtain sittings from Sinque. Only a few weeks ago I received a letter from a gentleman in New Haven, stating that he had in his possession an engraving copied from the picture by John Sartain,1 and having just learned that I was the owner of the original painting, he wrote to ask me its history.”
6. Nathaniel Jocelyn, Cinque, 1839. Oil on canvas. The New Haven Museum.
History of the Painting
Mr. Purvis’ visitor expressed himself as anxious to hear the history of the painting, which is only one of many interesting relics in the distinguished Abolitionist’s residence.
“Well, it’s a long story, but I think an excellent one,” began Mr. Purvis. “You have doubtless read of the treaty which was formed in the days of our early struggles in the Anti-Slavery cause, between this country, England and Spain, and, I think, Germany for the suppression of the African slave trade.2 Poverty-stricken Spain assented to the treaty with great reluctance, as it meant a large reduction in that country’s revenue. All of the nations stood by this treaty except Spain, and she surreptitiously carried on the business of supplying Cuba with slaves from the coast of Africa. The prices secured for these slaves were so high that even if only one slave vessel in six escaped capture by the English and other cruisers on the African coast, and succeeded in landing the human cargo in Cuba a large profit would be realized. As the Cubans worked their slaves eighteen or twenty hours a day, and as a slave’s life averaged there but seven years, there was always a large demand.
“It was in the year 1840, I think, that one of these vessels succeeded in landing a cargo of slaves in Havana. There were about thirty-five men and three women. They were all bought by two planters, Don Pedro and Montez, who lived on the island of Principe.3 Montez’s body servant was a young slave whom he had captured a year or two before this. The boy was named Antonio, and he had learned to speak Spanish very well. Among these slaves was Sinque, the subject of that painting. He had been captured by a rival tribe of savages in the Mendi country4 and had been taken to the coast and delivered to the slave traders.
Capturing the “Amistad”
“Don Pedro and Montez owned a small vessel named the Amistad, which they used to carry the slaves from Havana to their sugar cane plantations on the Island of Principe. These slaves, including the three women, were placed on board the Amistad. They were put below decks and fettered. When the vessel had been out two days, Sinque, although unable to get his own fetters off, assisted the others and succeeded in freeing them of their chains. They armed themselves with short knives, which were to be used to cut the sugar cane, and, springing on deck, seized the vessel and killed the captain and steward, who made resistance. The crew of three or four men became frightened, sprang overboard and were drowned. Montez resisted, but Sinque cut him slightly across the head, not desiring to kill him, and he finally surrendered. Don Pedro submitted quietly and was not harmed.
“Then Sinque showed his wonderful sagacity and ability. He was ignorant of the rules of navigation, but he determined to take his people back to their African homes. He used Antonio, the body servant of Montez, as an interpreter and through him told Montez that if he wished to escape with his life he would have to navigate the vessel back to African shores. Montez agreed and Sinque watched him night and day, even sleeping by his side, but the Cuban deceived him. He knew how to ‘box the compass,’ which makes it appear that a vessel is going in a direction exactly opposite to that which is it really bound, and he made for the United States.
“I well recollect a newspaper item that went the rounds of the press at that time, stating that ‘a small vessel, moving in a listless way and evidently filled with blacks, had been seen lying off New London, Conn.’ This was finally reported to the government, which sent a cruiser, under command of Captain Gedney, to find the suspicious craft.
Sinque’s Desperate Resistance
“Meanwhile the limited allowance of bread and provisions on board the Amistad had become exhausted, and Sinque and several companions got into a small boat and rowed ashore to get more
supplies. While they were gone Captain Gedney sighted the Amistad and boarded her. Montez immediately demanded his protection and told him how the slaves had seized the vessel. Captain Gedney ordered a file of marines on board and seized the slaves. He awaited the return of Sinque, who, as he approached the Amistad in the row-boat, was confronted with a file of marines with leveled muskets.
“His companions surrendered, but when the marines lowered a boat to take them on board Sinque refused to go, and finally jumped overboard. He swam around until he became exhausted and was then unable to resist, but Captain Gedney said afterward that even in the moment of his surrender Sinque ‘sat upon the water like a king.’ He was lifted on board and with the captured slaves was taken to New Haven and placed in prison. The Spanish Government demanded their return to Cuba as murderers and as property. Abolitionists throughout the entire country became interested in the case and the demand was resisted. They held that if the slaves had been imported from Africa in violation of the treaty they should not be surrendered to Spain.
“Then began a law suit in the United States District Court of New Haven that interested the whole civilized world. After a year’s imprisonment, during which the good people of New Haven, particularly the ladies, became interested in the blacks and taught them to read and speak a little English, and in a few instances even to write it, the case came up. While it was pending President Van Buren5 meanly ordered a vessel of war on duty off New Haven, with instructions that if the black people were found to have been imported as slaves, they were not to be molested as an appeal would be taken to the Supreme Court, but if the decision be that they were legitimate Spanish property, they were to be put on board the vessel at once and hurried off to Cuba before their case could be taken to the Supreme Court.
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