When the ship’s hold was full the voyage was begun, while from the suffering blacks below, unused to seafaring under any circumstances, and desperately sick in their stifling quarters, there arose cries and moans as if the cover were taken off of purgatory.  The imagination recoils from the thought of so much human wretchedness.

The publications of some of the early anti-slavery associations tell of the inhuman conditions of the trade.  In an unusually commodious ship carrying over six hundred slaves, we are told that “platforms, or wide shelves, were erected between the decks, extending so far from the side toward the middle of the vessel as to be capable of containing four additional rows of slaves, by which means the perpendicular height between each tier was, after allowing for the beams and platforms, reduced to three feet, six inches, so that they could not even sit in an erect posture, besides which in the men’s apartment, instead of four rows, five were stowed by putting the head of one between the thighs of another.”  In another ship, “In the men’s apartment the space allowed to each is six feet length by sixteen inches in breadth, the boys are each allowed five feet by fourteen inches, the women five feet, ten by sixteen inches, and the girls four feet by one foot each.”

“A man in his coffin has more room than one of these blacks,” is the terse way in which witness after witness before the British House of Commons described the miserable condition of the slaves on shipboard.

An amazing feature of this detestable traffic is the smallness and often the unseaworthiness of the vessels in which it was carried on.  Few such picayune craft now venture outside the landlocked waters of Long Island Sound, or beyond the capes of the Delaware and Chesapeake.  In the early days of the eighteenth century hardy mariners put out in little craft, the size of a Hudson River brick-sloop or a harbor lighter, and made the long voyage to the Canaries and the African West Coast, withstood the perils of a prolonged anchorage on a dangerous shore, went thence heavy laden with slaves to the West Indies, and so home.  To cross the Atlantic was a matter of eight or ten weeks; the whole voyage would commonly take five or six months.  Nor did the vessels always make up in stanchness for their diminutive proportions.  Almost any weather-beaten old hulk was thought good enough for a slaver.  Captain Linsday, of Newport, who wrote home from Aumboe, said:  “I should be glad I cood come rite home with my slaves, for my vessel will not last to proceed far.  We can see daylight all round her bow under deck.”  But he was not in any unusual plight.  And not only the perils of the deep had to be encountered, but other perils, some bred of man’s savagery, then more freely exhibited than now, others necessary to the execrable traffic in peaceful blacks.  It as a time of constant wars and the seas swarmed with French privateers alert for fat prizes.  When a slaver met a privateer the