Old Josh and the Monk (1870)

Josh Jefferson, was about twenty-seven years old when Silas, his oldest child was born, and old doc, Doctor Benjamin Lee Ssumsky (who came from Australia in the year 1795 to San Francisco, and then found himself a wife, by the name of Estelle, visiting San Francisco, who lived in Dothan, Alabama, married her, and having enough doctors in Dothan, and not enough in Ozark, they both found themselves down in Ozark because he married that gal from Alabama, and Ozark needed a doctor, and Dothan didn’t and so here he and she was, and in time he would also, deliver Jordon, 1830, and Josh’s wife, wife Sweep Pea gave quick deliveries he told Josh. Doctor Ssumsky was a friend of Charles Hightower so Josh got a white doctor to take delivery of his children, and perhaps it was for the better she had those children when she did, because old doc Benjamin died in 1832.
In 1869, old Josh inherited a plot of land after Charles Hightower died, and $3000-dollars. What he wanted to do, is what he tried to do, in 1870, now that he had money to do it with, money he put in the Ritt bank, but kept $1000-dollars out for this special project.
Silas and Jordon never knew the story behind Josh’s slave ship journey to America, and Josh, himself couldn’t remember all of it, he had some friends old friends mostly dead now, who had come on the ship with him, but they only knew bits and pieces, he figured perhaps he could get a better view, a fuller story, he knew where the Revered Walsh was, he had boarded his ship, heard he died in 1859, but left notes on what he saw when he boarded the ship in 1803, he was what was called an interceptor, and Josh knew where the notes where, at the Georgetown College, where B.J. Walsh had graduated from, in 1801, he read that in the Gazette, paper, what little reading he could do, he made that out.
He gave Emma Hightower, Charlie’s daughter, $1000 to see if she could hire a detective to get those notes for him, and read them to him, and she did just that, and she read them to Josh:

The Monk

“October 1, 1813, we just boarded the slave ship, the captain was reluctant to let us on, but once next to her we scrambled aboard her, and looked about, and then 22-armed men came and cornered us five, and forced us off, but here is what I saw: when I looked around the ship I saw a multitude of black people of every account chained liked dogs, their countenance expressing sadness and grief, I knew and they knew their fate; and I knew soon I and my five companions who forced our way on board the slave ship would be overpowered, and thus, forced off; as a result, the dismay and suffering I knew I would have to witness fast, and I did, I almost fainted because of it; some black people surrounded me believing I was going to save them. Accordingly I noticed they were all placed in different apartments. Evidently from the time of their arrival on the ship to their departure, which is usually about three months, as they go from port to port, the crossing of the Atlantic takes about 15 days, depending, the so called cargo, the slaves were of small and sometimes in large numbers on deck, I was only on the ship for an hour or so, before I and my companions were thrown off. Some of these ships carry 400 to 600 slaves; in one voyage this one I dare say was five hundred or more, packed like sardines. I learned on this ship and others I’ve been on, the Negroes, brought aboard ship, are immediately fastened together, two and two, by handcuffs on their wrists and by irons riveted on their legs. They are then sent down between the decks and placed in an apartment partitioned off for that purpose. The women also are placed in a separate apartment between the decks, but without being ironed. An adjoining room on the same deck is appointed for the boys, there was one boy who stood out with his mother, his name was Zam, his mother called him, he and his mother were sold by the king of a large Congo tribe to the slave traders, so I was told by the captain, who said he was not responsible for the cargo, but not for slavery in particular, that their own kind was selling their own kind, to his kind. Sad to say, but the king ended up on that very ship, and so one should learn in the slave trade, there are not special black folks when it comes to dollars and cargo, the captain was worried only about losing a slave, which meant, less dollars, not the soul of the man. The Captain actually took pride in showing me a few things, saying his ship was not half as bad as a few of his companions. Meaning, of the 500-blacks, perhaps only a few would die, where as half the slaves died on many of these slave ships from disease of every kind. He and all the rest of the slaves were naked, but he had a large mole, this Zam boy, by his groin area, so if he seeks ever identification, and reads this he may know his background, but so many Negros never read, and get lost in the shuffle between Africa and their home destination. Where he will be sold is beyond me. The name of the ship was called “The Monk,” it was to me a massive grave, of confinement of flesh, and contemporary fear. Negroes were all fastened together, two by two, handcuffs around their wrists, irons riveted on their legs, I know I am repeating, but I must. They were stacked like sardines between the decks, in apartments; women were placed in separate apartments, decks and all, with adjoining rooms for the kids.

Plan for "stowage" of a slave ship

(Note: the slave ships were made for 450-slaves had 600 in them; 15- million were brought over to the Americas in 290-years.)


Josh had heard enough, Emma Hightower, also. The book was a copy, but an expensive copy. And for the most part, Josh was satisfied. He was that boy, he felt, thought, he had that mole, which really wasn’t a mole, rather a birthmark, perhaps the Revered got it wrong, in any case, Josh sensed he was Zam.