“Well, betwixt you and me,” said Williams, “that whole affair on board of the Creole was miserably and disgracefully managed. Those black rascals got the upper hand of ye altogether: and in my opinion, the whole disaster was the result of ignorance of the real character of darkies in general. With half a dozen resolute white men, (I say it not boastingly,) I could have had the rascals in irons in ten minutes, not because I’m so strong, but I know how to manage ’em. With my back against the caboose, I could, myself, have flogged a dozen of them; and had I been on board, by every monster of the deep, every black devil of ’em all would have had his neck stretched from the yard-arm. Ye made a mistake in yer manner of fighting ’em. All that is needed in dealing with a set of darkies, is to show that yer not afraid of ’em. For my own part, I would not honour a dozen niggers by pointing a gun at one of ’em,—a good stout whip, or a stiff rope’s end, is better than all the guns at Old Point to quell a nigger insurrection. Why, sir, to take a gun to a nigger is the best way you can select to tell him you are afraid of him, and the best way of inviting his attack.”
This speech made quite a sensation among the company, and a part of them intimated solicitude for the answer which might be made to it. Our first mate replied, “Mr. Williams, all that you’ve now said sounds very well here on shore, where, perhaps, you have studied negro character. I do not profess to understand the subject as well as yourself; but it strikes me, you apply the same rule in dissimilar cases. It is quite easy to talk of flogging niggers here on land, where you have the sympathy of the community, and the whole physical force of the government, state and national, at your command; and where, if a negro shall lift his hand against a white man, the whole community, with one accord, are ready to unite in shooting him down. I say, in such circumstances, it’s easy to talk of flogging negroes and of negro cowardice: but, sir, I deny that the negro is, naturally, a coward, or that your theory of managing slaves will stand the test of salt water. It may do very well for an overseer, a contemptible hireling, to take advantage of fears already in existence, and which his presence has no power to inspire; to swagger about, whip in hand, and discourse on the timidity and cowardice of negroes; for they have a smooth sea and a fair wind. It is one thing to manage a company of slaves on a Virginia plantation, and quite another thing to quell an insurrection on the lonely billows of the Atlantic, where every breeze speaks of courage and liberty. For the negro to act cowardly on shore, may be to act wisely; and I’ve some doubts whether you, Mr. Williams, would find it very convenient, were you a slave in Algiers, to raise your hand against the bayonets of a whole government.”
“By George, shipmate,” said Williams, “you’re coming rather too near. Either I’ve fallen very low in your estimation, or your notions of negro courage have got up a buttonhole too high. Now I more than ever wish I’d been on board of that luckless craft. I’d have given ye practical evidence of the truth of my theory. I don’t doubt there’s some difference in being at sea. But a nigger’s a nigger, on sea or land; and is a coward, find him where you will; a drop of blood from one on ’em will skeer a hundred. A knock on the nose, or a kick on the shin, will tame the wildest ‘darkey’ you can fetch me. I say again, and will stand by it, I could, with half a dozen good men, put the whole nineteen on ’em in irons, and have carried them safe to New Orleans too. Mind, I don’t blame you; but I do say, and every gentleman here will bear me out in it, that the fault was somewhere, or them niggers would never have got off as they have done. For my part I feel ashamed to have the idea go abroad, that a ship-load of slaves can’t be safely taken from Richmond to New Orleans. I should like, merely to redeem the character of Virginia sailors, to take charge of a ship-load on ’em to-morrow.”
Williams went on in this strain, occasionally casting an imploring glance at the company for applause for his wit, and sympathy for his contempt of negro courage. He had, evidently, however, waked up the wrong passenger; for besides being in the right, his opponent carried that in his eye which marked him a man not to be trifled with.
“Well, sir,” said the sturdy mate, “you can select your own method for distinguishing yourself;—the path of ambition in this direction is quite open to you in Virginia, and I’ve no doubt that you will be highly appreciated and compensated for all your valiant achievements in that line; but, for myself, while I do not profess to be a giant, I have resolved never to set my foot on the deck of a slave ship, either as officer, or common sailor again; I have got enough of it.”
“Indeed! indeed!” exclaimed Williams, derisively.
“Yes, indeed,” echoed the mate; “but don’t misunderstand me. It is not the high value that I set upon my life that makes me say what I have said; yet I’m resolved never to endanger my life again in a cause which my conscience does not approve. I dare say here what many men feel, but dare not speak, that this whole slave-trading business is a disgrace and scandal to Old Virginia.”
“Hold! hold on! shipmate,” said Williams, “I hardly thought you’d have shown your colours so soon,—I’ll be hanged if you’re not as good an abolitionist as Garrison himself.”
The mate now rose from his chair, manifesting some excitement. “What do you mean, sir,” said he, in a commanding tone. “That man does not live who shall offer me an insult with impunity.”
The effect of these words was marked; and the company clustered around. Williams, in an apologetic tone said, “Shipmate! keep your temper. I meant no insult. We all know that Tom Grant is no coward, and what I said about your being an abolitionist was simply this: you might have put down them black mutineers and murderers, but your conscience held you back.”