The Venus was one of three slave ships owned by a Virginia planter named Melton Fancher. By the mid-1700s he was the largest landowner in the state with several tobacco plantations and hundreds of slaves. Most of the early slave trade was controlled by the Portuguese, Dutch, and British, but Mr. Fancher wanted into the business. He needed more labor for his tobacco farms and he could get it cheaper if he had his own ships. He loaded them with tobacco and whiskey and sent them to Africa to trade for slaves.
His slave ships were built in the shipyards at Norfolk, where hundreds were employed. They were financed and insured by banks and companies in New York, Boston, and Philadelphia. Since the slaves were considered to be nothing but chattel, same as livestock, they were insured too.
The slave trade was big business. Everybody made money. Except, of course, the slaves.
Since they were so valuable, careful records were kept by the trading companies. From 1737 to 1771, Mr. Fancher’s three ships made 228 voyages across the Atlantic and delivered about 110,000 kidnapped slaves to American markets, primarily Norfolk, Charleston, Savannah. He was considered to be the largest American slave trader and became very rich.
Conditions aboard his ships were awful, like all slave ships. The suffering Nalla endured, described below, was common. It was standard procedure in those terrible days for other ships, small boats, fishermen, and dockworkers to clear the harbor when a slave ship approached port. The stench was toxic, nauseating, and carried for miles. It was said you could smell one coming before you saw the top of its sails.
<p>9</p>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.
