Why Is It We Never Hear of the Zong Massacre?
Murder Doesn’t Apply When All you Kill is Cargo
Several factors make the Zong Massacre of 1781 a unique event. Most massacres of Black enslaved people or Black American citizens have been initially portrayed as race riots or rebellions. The Zong Massacre was completely one-sided, and no such claim could be made. Often, the number of people killed is grossly underestimated. In this Case, the effort was to be as accurate as possible, because an insurance claim depended upon it. Lastly, the massacre occurred at sea and not on dry land.
There’s an expression, “It’s supposed to be hard. If it were easy, everyone would do it.” Crossing the Atlantic with a cargo of enslaved people is hard, and the Captain and crew of the slave ship Zong were woefully unprepared. In the 1780s, British-built ships typically carried 1.75 slaves per ton of the ship’s capacity; on the Zong, the ratio was 4.0 per ton. A British slave ship of the period would carry around 193 enslaved people, and it was highly unusual for a vessel of Zong’s relatively small size to bring so many.
The 17-man crew was far too small to maintain adequate sanitary conditions on the ship. Sailors willing to risk disease and rebellions on slave ships were difficult to recruit within Britain and were harder to find for a vessel captured from the Dutch off the coast of Africa. Zong was staffed by remnants of the previous Dutch crew, as well as unemployed sailors hired from settlements along the African coast.
Their first mistake was not loading enough drinking water for the voyage. Navigational errors included missing opportunities to restock in Tobago, which they missed. Malnutrition, overcrowding, accidents, and disease had already killed several mariners and approximately 62 Africans. Only four days' worth of water remained on the ship when a navigational error, which had taken them away from Jamaica, was discovered; they were 10–13 days away from reaching port.
The cargo was insured for approximately half the enslaved people’s potential market value. The decision was made to throw enslaved people overboard over a period of days. On November 29, 54 women and children were thrown through cabin windows into the sea. On December 1, 42 enslaved men were thrown overboard, and 36 more followed in the next few days. Another ten chose to commit suicide by jumping into the sea. One of the captives requested that the remaining Africans be denied all food and drink rather than being thrown into the sea; the crew ignored this request. In total, 142 Africans were killed by the time the ship reached Jamaica.
Had the enslaved people died onshore or of natural causes, including starvation. No insurance claim would have been paid. By throwing them overboard, a clause called “general average” allowed for a claim when cargo had to be jettisoned to save the ship. On December 22, 1781, Zong arrived at Black River, Jamaica, with 208 slaves on board, less than half the number taken from Africa. The survivors were sold into slavery in January 1782.
The ship’s owners claimed compensation from their insurers for the loss of the enslaved people. The insurers refused to honour the claim, and the owners took them to court. The dispute was initially tried at the Guildhall in London on March 6, 1783, with the Lord Chief Justice, the Earl of Mansfield, presiding over the trial before a jury. The Jury found in favor of the owners, under an established protocol in maritime insurance that considered slaves as cargo.
The insurers applied to the Earl of Mansfield to have the previous verdict set aside and for the Case to be tried again. A hearing was held on 21–22 May 1783, before Mansfield and two other King’s Bench judges, Mr Justice Buller and Mr Justice Willes.
Summing up the verdict reached in the first trial, Mansfield said that the Jury had no doubt (though it shocks one very much) that the Case of enslaved people was the same as if Horses had been thrown overboard… The Question was whether there was not an Absolute Necessity for throwing them overboard to save the rest? The Jury believed that there was.
Ultimately, after testimony that heavy rains occurred before the second offloading of slaves, making their deaths unwarranted. The insurers were not required to pay the owners based on the negligence of the crew. Though the implication was that the slaves were murdered, no crew member was held legally liable.
The Zong Massacre barely made the news at the time; the first article in British newspapers appeared 18 months later. It is rarely taught in British schools and even less so in American ones. This is the kind of history that disturbs and is best not discussed lest man’s inhumanity come to light. The anniversary of the Zong Massacre is November 29, don’t bother keeping your eyes out for the ceremonies and celebrations.
I didn’t want to hit like on the reply bar cos obviously I don’t. But thank you for writing about this, the atrocities just seem endless.
Disgusting. And no, nothing about this surprises me. There was the scene in "Amistad" where the "excess of human cargo" necessitated to "lightening of the load" and dozens (?) of enslaved people on their way to a life of misery and drudgery were chained and dumped into the sea. Not sure which group had the worst of it. The group that drowned in the choking darkness chained like animals or those who survived to be beaten, branded, raped, raped in order to be impregnated, bought and sold, to see loved ones bought and sold, to know Generations of Inhumane Conditions and Never See Their Homeland Again...
Zong Massacre not a sexy enough script? No room for a Heroic White Savior to "Help those poor Negroes?" Too expensive? How about the bare bones, a woman grabbed from the bushes near her home. Beaten. Beaten by Black hands as well as White. Money changing hands. Waiting in a wall enclosure, a pen, with other terrified people. Mingling in terror. Looking for loved ones, friends and being terrified of not finding them. Of finding them. Waiting. Waiting. Hunger. Thirst. Strange noises. Sleeping on stone. Reliving yourself in a corner. The corner everyone else uses. Loud, rough voices. Everyone on their feet, herded out into the light, dark, light. Up a wooden plank. Hit with sticks. Pushed. Shoved. Forced down into a foul-smelling dark hole. The crying and screaming. been pressed body-to-body with other frightened people. The creaking of the wood. The sound of boots overhead. Chinks of light growing dim as the heat and swelling smell of unwashed bodies rises. No room to move. Not an inch to get more comfortable. Comfort long gone. Fear. Black Fear and Waiting. The yelling of men over your head out of sight. Strange tongues. The sound of rigging and the sea. The swells as the ship moves away from the coast. The Silence. The blackness now dim as your eyes adapt to the lack of light. The shapes of others. A hand held for comfort. The sickness as your body reacts to the undulations of the ship on the open sea. The smell of rain on the boards. Reaching out to grab even a drop of fresh water. Your lips cracked. Eyes sore. Stomach churning. All churning, weeping, shouting, crying, roiling heat. Bladders letting go. Urine dribbling down the wooden boards. The sharp smell of alcohol. The unseen men struggling over you. Slamming and knocking into things. Cursing in the thick, toneless speech you start to recognize. Day? Night? Only the chinks of light give any indication of the passing of time. So hungry you become delirious. You think the others have been given food, water. You can smell it, but it never comes near you. Time does not exist. You have been here forever. You will die here. A chick of day explodes as a door is flung open. Heavy boots struggle down the wooden steps into the hold. The clanking of chains and weak protests of those hauled to their feet. They are struck with heavy sticks even in their weakness, sickness. None are spared. men, women, children. Grabbed and dragged out of the darkness into the blistering glorious sun. There is nothing but sun. No land. No trees. No grass. No soil. No people. The tiny ship bucks and rolls on the huge blue mass of ocean. A white man bigger than you shoves you roughly in the back, yelling wordless words and he and two other white men push you towards the side of the ship. You are herded into a group. Chains are unlocked, slipped off, heavier rusted ones take their place and are secured roughly to your wrists and ankles. You could not move away from the others if you tried. You are trapped. There is nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. The angry white men curse and spit at you. Thrusting metal sticks into your face and yelling with murder in their eyes. A man dressed like a peacock stands above you waving his hand toward the sea. One by one you watch your chained companions be thrust over the side of the ship into the deep blue waters. Their heads never come up. They are not swimming, there arms waving uselessly, their hands grasping for nothing as they disappear beneath the water. Before you can steady yourself, you are pushed overboard with three others. Men, Women? You don't know. The water is so cold you feel like you have been stabbed all over with tiny knives. You cannot breathe. You reach through the cold green water as the sun slips further and further away. Darkness. The chain tearing into your skin, cold as the sea. Silence. Darkness. You cannot breathe...
You are not meant to.