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 £12 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]
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]
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.
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.
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.
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]
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.
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.