Daniel Page 14

  It worked. God forgive me, it worked. Ten or twelve women around us immediately leapt to their feet and followed Wain’s victim to join Basil’s group. It was easy to complete the business. Two women staggered and fell, and these Wain dragged to one side and left on the ground.

  Counting the women, I totalled thirty-six. Wain, going among them, picked out two who plainly had smallpox and one who was almost blind. These he told to go and join the two lying on the ground, and took no further notice of them.

  “How many women?” shouted Hawkshot, and when Wain had replied, “Thirty-three”, wrote it down and told Ushumbo to make his mark on the paper.

  “Shall I get the men in line now, Captain?” asked Wain. “Yes,” answered Hawkshot. “Start it here, and keep the whole line clear of the mud.”

  With much cursing and threatening, the men were formed into line. Again there were three whom Wain rejected, one with a clubfoot and two who were deformed. “Right,” he said to Basil and me, “keep ’em in line and keep the line moving.” Then, joining the Captain and Ushumbo, he pulled the first slave forward for inspection.

  The Captain worked slowly and thoroughly. He examined eyesight, hearing, teeth, hands, feet and private parts. The total number of male slaves was agreed as 191, but eleven of these were rejected, all on account of physical disability of one kind or another. The Captain spoke contemptuously in English to Ushumbo, telling him that he should be ashamed to have tried to pass off such rubbish on an honest purchaser like himself and that he was minded to take his custom elsewhere. Ushumbo’s English was so odd that I could not understand him, but I thought that in any case there was a kind of play-acting about the whole contretemps: that is, the Captain’s complaint seemed to be made almost in set terms, and the agent’s reply similarly. At all events, the rebuke and the rejoinder went no further.

  It was late in the afternoon before the 180 fit slaves were assembled on the beach. It was judged too late to put them aboard that night, and they and the women, together with those who had been rejected, were driven into the fort and left to themselves, with Ushumbo’s three slave-drivers taking turns on guard. I never heard what arrangements were made for feeding them. Then the Captain, Ushumbo, Wain, Basil and I returned to the ship.

  The Captain and Ushumbo took the evening meal alone together in the “house”, and we saw no more of them until next day. Three other members of our group, Wilkins, Cooper and Hopkins, were told by Wain to join Basil and myself in going ashore.

  Apparently the slaves had already been given a meal of ground maize that morning, or so Ushumbo’s men assured him. Twenty men and women, selected at random — were now brought out of the fort and driven down to the beach to board the canoes.

  When these poor wretches realised that they were now to be taken on board the white man’s ship and that their last hope of freedom had vanished, they burst out in passionate protests and pleas for mercy. Many were hysterical and beyond responding to any threats or orders. What shocked Basil and me was the detached indifference of the Captain, Wain, Ushumbo and his men. It was plain that they were only too familiar with this kind of desperate clamour, an expected and commonplace feature of their work. At a nod from Ushumbo his three men set about them with their whips. Wain joined them. Before control was restored several had been beaten unconscious and lay on the ground with blood oozing from the wounds across their backs. Wain told us to lift bodily those who were beyond hearing orders and put them in the canoes. Together with the other members of the group, I obeyed, but Basil remained where he was and took no part in the work. When all the canoes had been loaded, Wain ordered us to find ourselves places, and then got into one of the canoes himself. When we came alongside the ship, he set us to manhandling the slaves onto the stern deck, where the rest of the group was waiting to take charge of them. We remained in the canoes as they returned to the beach.

  I was surprised that neither the Captain nor Wain had taken any notice of Basil, who was still standing on the spot he had taken up when we first landed. A rod in pickle, I thought, turning to the next twenty slaves being brought out.

  The loading of the ship continued all day; so did the screaming, the sobbing protests, the pleas for mercy. I noticed that Wilkins was among the readiest to use his whip. Once, when he was lashing the body of a man already beaten to the ground, Wain himself intervened, telling him, with the usual flow of foul language, that a dead slave was no use to anyone. I could see that Wilkins was enjoying himself in showing the slaves that a black man could be even more cruel than his white companions.

  I felt ashamed of my cowardice, but at the same time could not see what else I could do. The alternative – defiance – I was sure would mean death in one form or another. Later that day I went over to Basil and tried to persuade him to submit like myself, pointing out that his resistance could make no difference to the brutality and wickedness proceeding round us. “I know that,” he replied, “but I can’t be a party to it.”

  “What about the money for your poor mother?” I asked.

  “Thirty pieces of silver,” he said. “Better go on with your work, Daniel. Your work, not mine.”

  As I returned, Wain met me. “Where’s muckin’ Wilkins got to?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know, Jack.”

  “Well, go and find ’im.”

  The whole shore was devoid of anywhere to hide. Not knowing what to do, I walked round to the far side of the old fort, and here I came upon Wilkins. He was masturbating. “Wain wants you,” I called and went back to the beach. Wain was busy, forcing a man into one of the canoes. By the time he had finished, Wilkins had returned.

  Before the day’s work was done, Wain and Hawkshot went back to the ship. Ushumbo, left in charge, carried on until the last batch of slaves had been bludgeoned into the canoes. Before we followed them, leaving the beach deserted, Ushumbo satisfied himself that none of the slaves was hiding in the fort. “And a wrong dorty mess dey’ve left in dere,” he said to me as he came out.

  “Do you want us to clean it up?” I asked.

  “God, no,” he answered contemptuously. “What wor be point ob dat, boy, eh?”

  Only a few of the male slaves were crouching on the stern deck as we climbed back on board. The rest, presumably, were already in the hold. The Captain, unspeaking, gestured to Basil and me to follow him into the waist, telling Wain to stop anyone else coming in. We stood side by side facing him. I was still holding my whip, streaked with blood.

  “Townley,” said Hawkshot, “you took no part in the work today. Why?”

  “The work is unjustifiably cruel, sir, and against my Christian principles.”

  “But you were told, when I engaged you, that the ship was sailing to Africa for slaves.”

  “I didn’t foresee, sir, that it would involve such terrible cruelty.”

  “I told you that the project was entirely legal. You were ready to join under my command and to obey my orders. I am the judge of what has to be done, not you.”

  “I cannot be a party, sir, to such wickedness.”

  “Yet you knew before you joined the ship that the slave trade is sanctioned throughout Europe and that it is not disapproved by the Church of England or the Roman Catholic Church. Do you think you know better than the whole world?”

  Basil made no reply.

  “Townley, this amounts to mutiny. I could hang you at once. But I will give you one more chance. Tomorrow you will work to orders or you will be condemned as a mutineer. Say nothing more. Go.” The Captain turned to me.

  “As for you, Daniel,” he said, “Wain tells me that yesterday you refused to whip a woman when he ordered you to. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Was that because you felt pity for the woman?”

  “Yes, Captain,”

  “It’s a waste of time to pity slaves, especially on the beach, where they often become hysterical. However, Wain says you’ve given no trouble since and I hope that will remain an isolated i
ncident. Can you assure me of that?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Now go and wash that whip and put it back on the rack.”

  He turned away and I did as I was told.

  After supper, I spent the rest of the evening talking with Basil but entirely failed to change his resolve.

  “But they’ll put you to death, Basil. And what good will you have done?”

  “Only God knows that,” he answered. “Do you suppose every one of the martyrs knew what good he or she would do? Many of them died alone and there must have been many we don’t even know about; no record of their deaths, I mean.”

  “But Basil, you’ve only got to tell the Captain that you’ve thought it over and you accept what he said about the slave trade and its approval by the Church and State.”

  “Not if it means abducting and brutalising helpless women and children. Men too, come to that. What do you think Christ would have done in our situation?”

  “But your mother?”

  “I know. I’ll write down her address and perhaps you’ll go and see her, will you?”

  In the course of the evening Ushumbo and the Captain, sitting together in the “house”, finally reached agreement on what was to be given in exchange for the slaves, and next morning Wain assembled our group and set us to opening the various cartons and bundles and dividing the contents. Since most of the stuff had already been assigned to Ushumbo, and he needed porterage while we did not, the Captain allowed him to use the original containers, and these his men took ashore and put into the fort. He said nothing to us about where or how he meant to take them away. The Captain, of course, was not concerned; that was the agent’s own business.

  Before Ushumbo left, the Captain spoke once more to Basil and me. Why he included me I still don’t know, but I think that he may have wanted an English witness who could, if necessary, testify to his disposal of Basil and affirm that he had not murdered him.

  “Townley,” he said, “I have already told you that your insubordinate conduct amounts to mutiny. Are you ready to desist from it, and to obey orders in a proper and reasonable way? Yes or no?”

  “No, sir,” replied Basil.

  “Very well. As I told you, I would be justified in hanging you, but I have decided to exercise leniency. I shall, with Ushumbo’s full agreement, hand you over to him, to deal with you as he thinks fit. The transfer will be carried out immediately,”

  Basil said nothing, but acknowledged this with an inclination, a kind of half-bow. The Captain left us, and Basil was told to collect his kit and come back to the stern deck. He had already written down for me his mother’s address. There was no one to say farewell except myself. (I embraced him with tears.) Wain then told Ushumbo, who had evidently agreed to oblige the Captain, to take him away; and that was the last we saw of either of them.

  I could observe no bodies on the beach, and assumed that Ushumbo must have disposed of them in some way of his own.

  Our business at Lekki was now ended. Wain supervised us in returning the remainder of the barter goods to the forward hold while the ship left the lagoon.

  We had not noticed it the previous evening, since the slaves had not been long on board, but this morning we had all become aware of the stench from the hold. A pervasive smell, however, is not consciously perceived after a few minutes and we were able, more-or-less, to disregard it. Now we were, in all respects, a slave-ship and would remain one until off-loading at Kingston.

  Two of the group, Portway and Hopkins, were on duty in the hold. Halfway through the morning Wain told Helm and Cooper to relieve them. When they came up they said nothing to anyone, but went by themselves to lean on the forward port rails.

  Earlier that day we had learned that Shergold and Matthews, together with Saunders, one of the crew, had gone down with malarial fever. “If there aren’t no more than them three we’ll ’ave got off light,” said Wain. “The Captain ain’t told me yet whether we’re going elsewhere for more slaves or whether we’re off to Jamaica right away. Two ’undred and thirteen’s a long way below what we generally reckon to get. But if any more of us go sick, p’raps we’ll ’ave to cut our losses.”

  After dinner, Wain told Limbrick and me to relieve Helm and Cooper in the hold. The hatches had been left open, and I preceded Limbrick down the ladder.

  I thought that I had seen the most abhorrent features of the slave trade on the beach the day before, but I was wrong. The suffering that I found about me now was worse. The half-darkness was full of the sounds of affliction; intermittent cries of pain, sobs of misery, the low, spent weeping of despair. The bodies were packed close together on their sides, some motionless, others continually stirring, twitching, troubling those to whom they were manacled. All showed the effects of privation: and here the smells of sweat and ordure were intensified, and the air almost exhausted by having been breathed again and again.

  Beside us was a pile of worn rush mats and dirty bolsters, and here we both lay down unspeaking. I was wondering why it was thought necessary for us to be there, when Wain called, “You all right down there?” It was Limbrick who replied. Then Wain once more, “Any dead?”

  “Don’t know yet,” answered Limbrick.

  “Well, get on with it.”

  Eyesight now more-or-less adapted, we started, half-crouching under the low timbers, on our inspection. In one way it was easy. The bodies formed roughly three-quarters of a circle on the floor, heads to the edge, feet pointed to the centre. But how to tell whether any were dead? Most were plainly alive, for under our hands they moved or muttered. Others remained still even when pinched or shaken. The way they were lying, it was often hard to tell whether they were breathing or not. However, we found the bodies of two men who were certainly dead. We released their fetters and called to Wain, who let down a kind of double-looped rope, to which we secured first one and then the other to be hauled up.

  Before our spell of duty was over, I fell into an uneasy sleep, from which Limbrick woke me. We were relieved by Cooper and Wilkins.

  In the early evening, Wain ordered that half the slaves were to be brought out of the hold and assembled on deck for what he called “Exercise”. There was a hatch above the waterline on the starboard side, and when this had been opened a kind of gangplank was fixed, up which the slaves, their fetters removed, reached the deck. Here they were made to form a circle, facing inwards. Wain, in the middle, demonstrated a kind of hopping dance, while one of the crew beat the rhythm on a piece of iron. Having shown what he wanted, he grasped a man by the wrist and resumed his dance, while Wilkins, beside him, gestured to the man to copy him. At length, with some difficulty and with the ever-present fear of the whip, the whole circle of slaves was made to “dance” one behind the other. Those who were too weak to do it and fell down, were left where they lay. The dance went on for a considerable time, and when Wain finally gave the signal to stop, several of the slaves were close to exhaustion. Wain, having allowed a pause for recovery, told us to get them back into the hold. Then the remainder were brought out and the dance was repeated.

  When the last slave had returned to the hold, I broke away, went forward and leant on the starboard rail.

  I knew now that I had been carried into the very centre of that thick, dark cloud which, in my imagination, had hung across our progress, concealing what was too hideous to foresee. I knew that the happenings of the past week had changed me forever. They stood like an iron screen between my life before we had come to Lekki and the time I had lived since then. I knew, too, that it was not a matter of a few days. Henceforward, until my death, I would be a different man, the Daniel who had worked for Captain Hawkshot on the beach at Lekki, the Daniel who had been an obedient participant in that work. What I had seen was compounded by what I had done. Against my conscience and with the example of Basil before me, I had submitted, on account of fear and of nothing else, to Jack Wain, had obeyed him, possibly even gained his approval.

  Yet this was
not all. I had not realised before that the African slave trade, based on conscious, deliberate cruelty, was the greatest collective sin ever committed by mankind. Cruelty impregnable, all-conquering! I could never have imagined by myself the supremacy of this Brutality and its loyal followers, Torment, Grief and Misery. No wickedness so vast, no wickedness on this scale had been known in the world until now. In my mind’s eye I saw the emergence into birth of this obscene, monstrous bulk, blotting out all but itself.

  “By what Name are we to call Thee, Master, to worship Thy divinity?”

  “I AM THE AFRICAN SLAVE TRADE.”

  “O Master, those are Thy flames roaring through ransacked villages, Thy foolish mothers bereft, Thy silly, defenceless victims screaming, Thy whips striking home.”

  “I AM ULTIMATE EVIL. FALL DOWN BEFORE ME. THERE IS NO CRUELTY GREATER THAN MINE.”

  “And these are our ships, Master, every cargo worth a fortune. Our reward for serving Thee. Hallowed be Thy Name.”

  * * *

  Hitherto I had seen the slaves as simply sufferers of pain, of the whips and blows of innumerable counterparts of Mister Henderson and Jack Wain. But now I realised more. The black slaves were victims of robbery — perhaps, numerically — of the greatest robbery ever. They must, I supposed, number millions: and they had been robbed entirely: not only of their ways of life, their homes and possessions and of the familiar society, surroundings and climate where they had lived, but of their wives and children, of their traditional culture, of faith in their gods, of their prospects, of security and even of hope, for they had nothing to look forward to but unpaid, unremitting toil and death. A victim of the African slave trade could stand up naked and be seen as possessing nothing, physical or spiritual, beyond his five senses.

  And I? It seemed to me that I had no option but to serve out my time with Captain Hawkshot and then — but how? — to work to deserve absolution, to feel myself absolved.