No pen could adequately describe the suffering and horror of those
months of waiting, while the unfortunate victims lived in crowded,
dirty cells, subjected to every conceivable indignity and insult from
brutal guards, half starved, and breathing foul, fetid air--the breath
of sickness, the stench of unclean wounds. Dragged forth at last, one
by one, into a court organized for condemnation, presided over by a
foul-mouthed brute, whose every word was insult, denied all
opportunity for defense, they had later been shackled together as
felons, and driven aboard ship like so many head of cattle. Herded
below deck, tossed about for weeks on a stormy sea, uncared for, and
half starved, scarcely realizing their destination, or knowing their
fate, seeing their dead dragged out from their midst with each dawn,
and flung carelessly overboard, cursed at and struck by their guards,
they now dragged their aching bodies about in half dead despair, the
chains clanking to every movement of the limbs, their dull, lackluster
eyes scarcely discerning the darkening line of coast toward which the
_Romping Betsy_ steered.

With what depth of pity I looked at them, my glance gladly straying
from their downcast faces toward the group of passengers gathered
eagerly along the poop rail to welcome joyfully the approach of land.
These were all animation, excitement, talking eagerly to each other,
and pointing out familiar headlands as they emerged through the thin
mists. Their thoughts were all centered on home, or the promises of
this new land they were approaching, and so deeply interested that
scarcely an eye turned toward those miserable wretches grouped on the
forward deck, being borne into slavery and disgrace. It was a contrast
between hope and despair. As these passengers moved restlessly back
and forth, from rail to rail, I easily recognized among them every
face grown familiar to me during the course of the voyage, excepting