AMERICAN VICTIMS.
Thus far I have followed the efforts of European nations, and the struggles of European victims of 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 distant Spaniards, Frenchmen, or Englishmen. Nor are materials wanting.
In earliest days, while the Colonies yet contended with savage Indians, families were compelled to mourn the hapless fate of brothers, fathers, and husbands doomed to slavery in distant African Barbary. Five years after the landing at Plymouth, a returning ship, already "shot deep into the English Channel," was "taken by a Turks man-of-war and carried into Sallee, where the master and men were made slaves," while a consort ship with Miles Standish aboard narrowly escaped this fate.[89] 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 Austin and his wife and family were carried to Algiers, and sold there for slaves."[90] Under date of 1671, in the diary of Rev. John Eliot, first minister of Roxbury and devoted apostle to the Indians, prefixed to the records 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 it appears that they were redeemed after a bondage of three years. The same record shows other victims for whom the sympathies of the church and neighborhood were enlisted. Here is one: "20 10 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 12l. 18s. 9d. which by God's favor made up the just sum desired." 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 contribution was afterwards "improved to build a tomb for the town to inter their ministers."[91] Money collected for emancipation built the tomb of the Roxbury ministers.
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 Daniel Mason, a graduate of Harvard University, and the earliest of that name on the Catalogue; also, James Ellson, the mate. The latter, in a testamentary letter to his wife, dated at Algiers, June 30, 1679, desires her to redeem out of captivity two of his companions.[92] At the same period, William Harris, a person of consequence in the Colony, an associate 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 bearing his doom more than a year, was redeemed at the cost of twelve hundred dollars, called by him "the price of a good farm." The feelings of the Colony, touched by these disasters, are concisely expressed in a private letter dated at Boston, 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!"[93] This prayer may be repeated still.
In 1693 the subject found its way before the Governor and Council of Massachusetts, on a petition from the relations of two inhabitants "some time since taken by a Sallee man-of-war, and now under Turkish captivity and slavery," for permission "to ask and receive the charity and public contribution of well-disposed persons for redeeming them out of their miserable suffering and slavery." The petition was granted on the condition, "The money so collected to be employed for the end aforesaid, unless the said persons happen to die before, make their escape, or be in any other way redeemed; then the money so gathered to be improved for the redemption of some others of this Province, that are or may be in like circumstances, as the Governor and Council shall direct."[94] Thus was the government of Massachusetts moved at that early day to emancipation.
Entering the next century, we meet a curious notice of a captive Bostonian. Under date of Tuesday, January 11, 1714, Chief-Justice Samuel Sewall, after describing in his journal a dinner with Mr. Gee, and mentioning the guests, among whom were 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."[95] Among the many weighty things very pertinently comprised by this eminent divine, it is hoped, was condemnation of slavery. Surely, he could not then have shrunk from giving utterance to that faith which preaches deliverance to the captive.
Leaving the imperfect records of colonial days, I descend at once to that period, almost in the light of our own times, when our National Government, justly careful of the liberty of its white citizens, was aroused to put forth all its power. The war of the Revolution closed with the acknowledgment of independence. The national flag, then freshly unfurled, and hardly known to the world, had little power to protect persons or property against outrages from the Barbary States. Within three years no less than ten American vessels became their prey. At one time an apprehension prevailed that Dr. Franklin was captured. "We are waiting," said one of his French correspondents, "with the greatest impatience 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."[96] The property of our merchants was sacrificed. Insurance at Lloyd's in London could be had only at advanced rates, while it was difficult to obtain freight for American bottoms.[97] The Mediterranean trade was closed against 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 unhappy fellow-citizens, captives in a distant land, awoke a feeling of a higher strain.
As from time to time these tidings 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."[98] This sentiment acquired new force, when, at two different periods, by the fortunate escape of captives, what seemed to be an authentic picture of their condition was presented to the world. The story of these fugitives shows the hardships of their lot, and was at the bottom of the appeal soon made to the country with such effect.
The earliest of these escapes was in 1788, by a person originally captured in a vessel from Boston. It appears, that, on being carried into Algiers, he, with the rest of the ship's company, was exposed at public auction, whence he was sent to the country-house of his purchaser. Here for 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 of learning the fate of his companions. From the country he was removed to Algiers, where, in a numerous company of white slaves, he encountered three 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 of the Dey. Our fugitive and eighteen other white slaves were put on board a xebec, carrying eight six-pounders and sixty men, which, while cruising on the coast of Malta, encountered an armed vessel of 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 before the triumph of the Genoese could deliver them from chains. Our countryman and the few remaining alive were at once set at liberty, and, it is said, "treated with that humanity which distinguishes the Christian from the barbarian."[99] Such is the testimony.
This escape was followed the next year by others, achieved under circumstances widely different. A ship from Philadelphia was captured near the Western Islands and taken into Algiers. The crew of twenty-two were doomed to bondage. The larger part were sent into the country and chained to work with mules. Others were put on board a galley and chained to the oars. The latter, tempted by facilities of position near the sea, made attempts to escape, which, for a time, proved fruitless. At last, love of freedom triumphing over suggestions of humanity, they rose upon their overseers, killing some and confining others, then, seizing a small galley of their masters, set sail for Gibraltar, where in a few hours they landed as freemen.[100] Thus, by killing their keepers and carrying off property not their own, did these fugitive white slaves achieve their liberty.