He made several voyages, and at length shipped as third mate on board the ship King George, which was bound to the Guinea Coast of Africa, for slaves. Strange as it now appears, the slave trade was then considered an honorable calling. Men of unquestioned piety, who morning and evening kneeled with their happy children around the family altar, fitted out ships to desolate the homes and steal the children of Africans, and bear them away to life-long slavery. Many a captain, after crowding the hold of his ship with these melancholy victims of his inhumanity, would retire to his cabin, read the precepts of Jesus, “As ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise,” and would then kneel in prayer, imploring God’s blessing. And this was not hypocrisy. So strange a being is fallen man.
We have no indications that any compunctions of conscience disturbed John Paul on this voyage. The most illustrious, opulent, and worthy people of England were engaged in the infamous traffic. Of course it was not to be expected that a boy, scarcely emerging from childhood, should develop humanity above that of the generation in the midst of which he was born. The Friendship bore its freight of human victims to the West Indies, where they were sold. He then, when nineteen years of age, shipped at Jamaica, on board the brigantine Two Friends, for Africa, to obtain another cargo of slaves.
It speaks volumes in favor of the intelligence of John Paul, that he became so thoroughly disgusted with the cruelty of the traffic, desolating Africa with the most merciless wars, and tearing husbands from wives, parents from children, that, upon his return to Kingston, he declared that he would have nothing more to do with the traffic forever. His friends unite in giving their testimony to this his resolve, and it is confirmed by the uniform tenor of his subsequent correspondence.
From this his second slaving voyage he embarked for Scotland, as a passenger, on board the brigantine John, under the command of Captain Macadam. On the passage the yellow fever broke out. Both the captain and the mate of the ship died. They were left in the middle of the stormy Atlantic, with none of the crew capable of navigating the ship. Fortunately for all, John Paul assumed the command. The whole crew gratefully recognized his authority. Be it remembered that he had not yet finished his twentieth year. He brought the ship safe into port. The owners, Messrs. Currie, Beck & Co., in recompense of the great service he had rendered them, at once gave him command of a ship both as captain and supercargo. In their employment he sailed for two voyages.
On one of these voyages, Captain Paul was accused of whipping, with undue severity, an insubordinate sailor, by the name of Mungo Maxwell. But a legal investigation absolved him from all blame. The accusation, and the trial which was prolonged through six months, caused Captain Paul great annoyance. The following letter to his mother and sisters reveals his feelings, and much of his character, at that time. He was then but twenty-five years of age.
“London, 24th September, 1772.
“My Dear Mother and Sisters,
“I only arrived here last night from the Grenadas. I have had but poor health during the voyage. My success in it not having equalled my first sanguine expectations, has added very much to the asperity of my misfortunes, and, I am well assured, was the cause of my loss of health. I am now, however, better, and I trust Providence will soon put me in a way to get bread, and, which is far my greatest happiness, to be serviceable to my poor but much valued friends. I am able to give you no account of my future proceedings, as they depend upon circumstances which are not fully determined.
“I have enclosed to you a copy of an affidavit made before Governor Young, by the Judge of the Court of Vice-Admiralty of Tobago, by which you will see with how little reason my life has been thirsted after, and, which is much dearer to me, my honor, by maliciously loading my fair character with obloquy and vile aspersions. I believe there are few who are hard-hearted enough to think I have not long since given to the world every satisfaction in my power, being conscious of my innocence before Heaven, who will one day judge even my judges.
“I staked my honor, life, and fortune, for six long months, on the verdict of a British jury, notwithstanding I was sensible of the general prejudice which ran against me. But, after all, none of my accusers had the courage to confront me. Yet I am willing to convince the world, if reason and facts will do it, that they have had no foundation for their harsh treatment.