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Rous'd by the lash they go their cheerless way;
And as their souls with shame and anguish burn,
Salute with groans unwelcome morn's return,
And, chiding ev'ry hour the slow-pac'd sun,
Pursue their toils till all his race is run.
No eye to mark their suff'rings with a tear;
No friend to comfort, and no hope to cheer:
Then, like the dull unpity'd brutes, repair
To stalls as wretched, and as coarse a fare;
Thank heaven one day of mis'ry was o'er,
Then sink to sleep, and wish to wake no more[P]."
The turbulence of my emotions however naturally gave way to calmer
thoughts, and I soon perceived what fate had decreed no mortal on
earth could prevent. The convoy sailed on without any accident, with a
pleasant gale and smooth sea, for six weeks, till February, when one
morning the Oeolus ran down a brig, one of the convoy, and she
instantly went down and was ingulfed in the dark recesses of the
ocean. The convoy was immediately thrown into great confusion till it
was daylight; and the Oeolus was illumined with lights to prevent
any farther mischief. On the 13th of February 1763, from the
mast-head, we descried our destined island Montserrat; and soon after
I beheld those
"Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can rarely dwell. Hope never comes
That comes to all, but torture without end
Still urges."
At the sight of this land of bondage, a fresh horror ran through all
my frame, and chilled me to the heart. My former slavery now rose in
dreadful review to my mind, and displayed nothing but misery, stripes,
and chains; and, in the first paroxysm of my grief, I called upon
God's thunder, and his avenging power, to direct the stroke of death
to me, rather than permit me to become a slave, and be sold from lord
to lord.
In this state of my mind our ship came to an anchor, and soon after
discharged her cargo. I now knew what it was to work hard; I was made
to help to unload and load the ship. And, to comfort me in my distress
in that time, two of the sailors robbed me of all my money, and ran
away from the ship. I had been so long used to an European climate
that at first I felt the scorching West India sun very painful, while
the dashing surf would toss the boat and the people in it frequently
above high water mark. Sometimes our limbs were broken with this, or
even attended with instant death, and I was day by day mangled and
torn.
About the middle of May, when the ship was got ready to sail for
England, I all the time believing that Fate's blackest clouds were
gathering over my head, and expecting their bursting would mix me with
the dead, Captain Doran sent for me ashore one morning, and I was told
by the messenger that my fate was then determined. With fluttering
steps and trembling heart I came to the captain, and found with him
one Mr. Robert King, a quaker, and the first merchant in the place.
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