A Slave's Journey by Anya

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 At last, we were led by our chains onto the looming vessel up in front of us. It was by far the biggest ship in the quay. I felt a horrible sinking feeling in my gut and a shiver ran down my spine. I knew there was no escape. My dark wrists were rubbed raw from the strong, steel chains and the pulling of the slaves in front caused me to trip and fall making it ten times worse. The ugly scarred ship mates glared at us with glee and whispered to each other with smirks on their faces. Most of the younger slaves were crying for their parents and I felt a lump build up in my own throat. It made me miserable to see all of them there, helpless. The sun scorched the back of my exposed neck and the slave drivers made us wait there for almost fifteen minutes. Finally, the captain gave the order to force us below deck and we descended down into the gloomy hold. 

Suddenly, all sound was cut off as the trapdoor slammed and we snaked down a set of rickety stairs. Where there had been the gentle hum of insects there was now silence. Total and complete silence. The whole room came into view through dimly lit gas lamps as I saw the ghostly silhouettes of already captured slaves. I could taste fear on my tongue and I could smell a smell I would never forget. The stench of sweat and human waste combined with sick consumed me as I tried to find a comfortable position on the floor. My shining manacles clinked menacingly and the wooden bar I was chained to pressed painfully into my back. I was so tired that I sank to the floor but the silver chains pulled at my arms doubling the pain. I glanced around again. If possible, the dark had become even darker and a moment later the captain called for the lamps to be extinguished for nightfall.

Suddenly, the ship lurched forward and, like many others, I found myself face flat on the floor. Quickly, the rocking ship got to me and I had to choke back some bile. I couldn’t sleep, partly because of the rocking ship and partly because of my own misery. The hold was much quieter now with only the occasional cry or groan. Silently, I shuffled across the floor, searching for another body. I had a pounding head ache and the sea sickness was much worse. I knew that this night would be a sleepless one. I choked back a sob but all the same, tears rushed to my eyes. I cried for my family and for myself. I cried for the other slaves. Little did I know that this was very little pain compared to the pain I would experience in the Americas.       

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