After we were all on board， the brig Orleans proceededdown James River. Passing into Chesapeake Bay， wearrived next day opposite the city of Norfolk. Whilelying at anchor， a lighter approached us from the town，bringing four more slaves. Frederick， a boy of eighteen，had been born a slave， as also had Henry， who was someyears older. They had both been house servants in thecity. Maria was a rather genteel looting colored girl， witha faultless form， but ignorant and extremely vain. Theidea of going to New-Orleans was pleasing to her. Sheentertained an extravagantly high opinion of her ownattractions. Assuming a haughty mien， she declaredto her companions， that immediately on our arrival inNew-Orleans， she had no doubt， some wealthy singlegentleman of good taste would purchase her at once！
But the most prominent of the four， was as a mannamed Arthur. As the lighter approached， he struggledstoutly with his keepers. It was with main force thathe was dragged aboard the brig. He protested， in aloud voice， against the treatment he was receiving， anddemanded to be released. His face was swollen， andcovered with wounds and bruises， and， indeed， oneside of it was a complete raw sore. He was forced， with all haste， down the hatchway into the hold. I caught anoutline of his story as he was borne struggling along， ofwhich he afterwards gave me a more full relation， and itwas as follows： He had long resided in the city of Norfolk，and was a free man. He had a family living there， and wasa mason by trade. Having been unusually detained， hewas returning late one night to his house in the suburbsof the city， when he was attacked by a gang of persons inan unfrequented street. He fought until his strength failedhim. Overpowered at last， he was gagged and bound withropes， and beaten， until he became insensible. For severaldays they secreted him in the slave pen at Norfolk—avery common establishment， it appears， in the cities ofthe South. The night before， he had been taken out andput on board the lighter， which， pushing out from shore，had awaited our arrival. For some time he continuedhis protestations， and was altogether irreconcilable. Atlength， however， he became silent. He sank into a gloomyand thoughtful mood， and appeared to be counselingwith himself. There was in the man’s determined face，something that suggested the thought of desperation.
After leaving Norfolk the hand-cuffs were taken off，and during the day we were allowed to remain on deck.
The captain selected Robert as his waiter， and I wasappointed to superintend the cooking department， andthe distribution of food and water. I had three assistants，Jim， Cuffee and Jenny. Jenny’s business was to preparethe coffee， which consisted of corn meal scorched in a kettle， boiled and sweetened with molasses. Jim andCuffee baked the hoe-cake and boiled the bacon.
Standing by a table， formed of a wide board resting onthe heads of the barrels， I cut and handed to each a sliceof meat and a “dodger” of the bread， and from Jenny’skettle also dipped out for each a cup of the coffee. The useof plates was dispensed with， and their sable fingers tookthe place of knives and forks. Jim and Cuffee were verydemure and attentive to business， somewhat inflated withtheir situation as second cooks， and without doubt feelingthat there was a great responsibility resting on them. Iwas called steward—a name given me by the captain.
The slaves were fed twice a day， at ten and fiveo’clock—always receiving the same kind and quantityof fare， and in the same manner as above described. Atnight we were driven into the hold， and securely fasteneddown.
Scarcely were we out of sight of land before we wereovertaken by a violent storm. The brig rolled and plungeduntil we feared she would go down. Some were seasick，others on their knees praying， while some werefast holding to each other， paralyzed with fear. Thesea-sickness rendered the place of our confinementloathsome and disgusting. It would have been a happything for most of us—it would have saved the agony ofmany hundred lashes， and miserable deaths at last—hadthe compassionate sea snatched us that day from theclutches of remorseless men. The thought of Randall and little Emmy sinking down among the monsters ofthe deep， is a more pleasant contemplation than to thinkof them as they are now， perhaps， dragging out lives ofunrequited toil.
When in sight of the Bahama Banks， at a place calledOld Point Compass， or the Hole in the Wall， we werebecalmed three days. There was scarcely a breath ofair. The waters of the gulf presented a singularly whiteappearance， like lime water.
In the order of events， I come now to the relation of anoccurrence， which I never call to mind but with sensationsof regret. I thank God， who has since permitted me toescape from the thralldom of slavery， that through hismerciful interposition I was prevented from imbruingmy hands in the blood of his creatures. Let not those whohave never been placed in like circumstances， judge meharshly. Until they have been chained and beaten—untilthey find themselves in the situation I was， borne awayfrom home and family towards a land of bondage—letthem refrain from saying what they would not do forliberty. How far I should have been justified in the sightof God and man， it is unnecessary now to speculateupon. It is enough to say that I am able to congratulatemyself upon the harmless termination of an affair whichthreatened， for a time， to be attended with serious results.
Towards evening， on the first day of the calm， Arthurand myself were in the bow of the vessel， seated on thewindlass. We were conversing together of the probable destiny that awaited us， and mourning together overour misfortunes. Arthur said， and I agreed with him，that death was far less terrible than the living prospectthat was before us. For a long time we talked of ourchildren， our past lives， and of the probabilities of escape.
