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For three days Nalla waited with the others as the Venus slowly filled with more chained and shackled Africans, all naked and bewildered. Many of the men were belligerent and rebellious, and the slightest protests or cursing led to brutal whippings for all to see. Every lashing was done on the main deck with a full crowd of witnesses. The violence and gruesomeness was effective and muffled thoughts of fighting back. The sailors were heavily armed and aggressive, and acted as though the best way to maintain discipline was to beat any African who failed to quickly follow orders.
The men were attached at the ankles with iron cuffs that never came off. They were forced to walk, sit, and do everything in pairs. They were banished to the lowest deck, a stifling sweathouse with no windows, ventilation, light, nor place to urinate or defecate. They were packed together so tightly that they were forced to sleep elbow-to-elbow. The hold was as hot as an oven and breathing was difficult. Sweat poured from their skin and puddled and dripped through the cracks of the planks. The stench of sweat, urine, and feces hung like a thick fog that was almost visible. For a few hours each day the men were taken to the deck where they filled their lungs with air and ate gruel from a dirty porcelain bowl. They relieved themselves in one corner where the sailors had arranged a pipe-like chute to dump the waste into the ocean.
And they were still at anchor, still taking on more captives.
The women and children were housed in various rooms below the main deck and they were not shackled. Far fewer in number than the men, their conditions were slightly better, though they lived with the fear of sexual assault. They were allowed more time on deck and they constantly watched the men, hoping to find a lost husband or brother. It happened occasionally, though the women knew to stay quiet about it. It did not happen to Nalla. There was no sign of Mosi.
The sailors were a rough crew of derelicts, criminals, ex-prisoners, debtors, and drunks unable to find honest work at home. Working a slave ship was widely known to be the lowest job available, and they signed on only because they could find nothing else. They were not real sailors, with training and knowledge of the sea, but nothing more than a band of desperate men who often enjoyed the thuggery. Many were sadistic. The discipline came from the top and was driven down forcefully by the captain and his mates. They were harsh with the sailors so the sailors would be harsh to the slaves. Everyone feared a rebellion and the atmosphere was always tense.
After a week of waiting, the Venus finally set sail on April 12, 1760. It was bound for Savannah with 435 Africans on board. Three hundred and ten were men, the rest women and children. There were forty-five sailors, ten mates, and a captain, Joshua Lankford, a veteran of many such voyages.
The ship never made it to Savannah.
10
Roughly 20 percent of the Africans died en route. Three crew members died of smallpox; two of malaria. Sickness and disease were everywhere on the ship. Dysentery was widespread and virtually every slave, and most sailors, suffered some type of intestinal problem. The food was sparse and dreadful and resulted in scurvy and other afflictions. There were outbreaks of measles and smallpox that led to isolation in the deepest, foulest holds at the bottom of the ship. Given the levels of despair and depression, suicide was a common thought. Two men, chained together at the ankles, managed to scramble over the railing of the deck and go overboard. This inspired others, and more sentries were posted to prevent jumping. Nevertheless, a week later, two more Africans escaped gunfire and drowned themselves. A thirteen-year-old girl was severely beaten by two sailors when she fought them during a sexual assault. When they realized she was dead, they tossed her overboard to avoid punishment. It was not reported to the captain.
On Fancher ships, sexual contact with the female slaves was strictly prohibited. As with most rules, it was ignored and there was no punishment for the sailors. As captives, the women learned not to resist.
Nalla was tormented by a nasty ruffian nicknamed Monk, a burly black-bearded ex-criminal with scars on his neck. Each night she lay on the floor in the darkness, a friend on each side, praying the white men would not come. Often they did, and Monk quickly became a regular. By the light of a candle, he led Nalla away and down through a maze of dark hallways to a dank, cramped little room where drinking water was stored. He latched the door for some privacy and had his pleasure. She did not resist. Sometimes other men were waiting. Many of the women were taken to the same room.
To show his good intentions, Mr. Fancher required a doctor on each of his slave ships. On the Venus, the doctor treated only sailors and preferred not to touch the Africans. He was quick to pronounce a desperately ill slave “dead” and order him thrown overboard. Only the captain could interfere with such a diagnosis, and Lankford was not one to second-guess the doctor. He dispensed a few pills and salves for the sailors but had nothing for the Africans.
The sighting of land caused a stir, and as it came into view the crew got busy. The lowly deckhands began scrubbing the deck in a futile effort to tidy up the ship. The women were brought on deck and given buckets of salt water and lye soap to bathe each other. Each was given a cheap burlap garment to wrap around her waist and cover her midsection. Their breasts would still be exposed, which meant nothing to the Africans but would be a source of curiosity on land. The men were not given soap and water but were instructed to cover their genitals with a strip of cloth.
Late in the afternoon, Captain Lankford made a rare appearance on deck. He inspected his men, a motley crew whose appearance had only deteriorated with the voyage, but he somehow managed to look impressed. He took a long look through his telescope, as if to verify that Savannah was indeed on course. He claimed to see the harbor, one he knew well, and said it was only two miles away. They would drop anchor at dark and make land early the next morning.
The Venus would get no closer.
The dark clouds and winds appeared in a rush from the north. The storm was so sudden, the crew did not have time to lower the sails and drop anchor. Within minutes the ship was being shoved southward and back out to sea. The waves were five feet, then ten, then crashing into the ship and spraying water across the deck. Everyone was ordered below. The gusts were stronger and louder and sustained for long periods of time.
Captain Lankford had survived hurricanes in the Caribbean, but he’d never seen such a storm come from the north. He found it impossible to steer the ship as the wind whipped it about. Though there was virtually no visibility, he could tell when the mainsail was ripped and began whipping the foresail and back sail. Larger waves were hitting broadside and drenching the deck. His ship was taking on enormous amounts of water. When the aft mast snapped and broke in two, the captain ordered his men to unlatch the lifeboats and begin lowering them. With the ship bouncing violently from side to side, it was an impossible task. Any fool who attempted to cross the deck was certain to be swept away. Lankford worried that the Africans might somehow break free from below, swarm the deck, and commandeer the lifeboats. He ordered the hold-hatches locked shut, entombing the 400-plus Africans and guaranteeing their deaths if the Venus went down. In a brief lull, the sailors scrambled over the deck and sealed off the holds.