This atrocious and unparalleled act of wickedness

Thomas Clarkson

On 19 March 1783, Granville Sharp noted in his journal: ‘Gustavus Vasa a Negro called on me with an account of 130 Negroes being thrown Alive into the sea from on Board an English Slave Ship.’1

William Gregson was undoubtedly one of the most successful slave merchants in Liverpool. He owned a large number of slave ships. During the course of 152 slave voyages his vessels shipped 49,000 Africans to plantations in the Americas.2 In 1769 he named his latest slave ship after himself, marking his incredible rise. The Gregson was the last of his ships to sail before the American War of Independence put a stop to trading for three years. In 1780 he re-entered the trade with a new ship, the William. Her captain was John Hanley, a trusted and experienced master. In 1781 Hanley saw an opportunity that he could not pass over.3

In February of that year a ship, the Zorg, had been captured from the Dutch by the British navy. She was a relatively small slaver of 110 tons. Typically a ship of that size would carry about 190 Africans, but the Zorg came loaded with 244 slaves on board. On behalf of the Gregson syndicate, Hanley bought the ship and renamed her the Zong (or perhaps the name was misread, and then taken for granted). Gregson immediately took out insurance ‘upon the whole of the ship and on Goods … valuing slaves at £30 Sterling per head’.4

Captain Hanley, who was already in charge of the William, appointed his surgeon Luke Collingwood as captain of the Zong. This step would have severe repercussions. Hanley instructed Collingwood to buy more slaves, and on 18 August he left Africa with 442 Africans on board, bound for Jamaica. The ship was dangerously overcrowded, and Collingwood was an inexperienced captain.

What happened next has been the subject of much debate, conspiracy theories, inconsistencies of evidence and confusion in the telling. The Zong overran her intended destination. Water supplies had dwindled, and an epidemic had broken out on the overcrowded ship. On 29 November 1781, Collingwood made the decision to ‘jettison’ a portion (roughly one-third) of his human cargo into the waters of the Caribbean. He calculated that it would make more sense economically to kill the slaves and claim the insurance money. When Gregson and his syndicate made their claim of £30 for each of the slaves who had been killed, they stated that the ship’s water supply had run out, and the captain had taken the ‘necessary’ step of sacrificing a few for the many.5

No reconstruction of these horrific events can ever be fully accurate, for two reasons. First, the captain, who had fallen ill, died a couple of days after the ship reached Jamaica. Second, the ship’s logbook went missing, and has never been found. The insurers later accused Gregson of destroying it. He claimed that it was with Collingwood when he died in Jamaica, and was mislaid. But it would have been highly irregular for the logbook to have left the ship.Without it, the events were reconstructed by the testimony of a passenger on the ship named Robert Stubbs. Later, first mate James Kelsall wrote an affidavit putting across his own version of what happened. Neither source is necessarily to be trusted.

We will never know the full truth of what happened, but we do know that the circumstances of the Zong were highly unusual. As Luke Collingwood was a slave surgeon who had been promoted to the role of captain, doubts were later voiced about his capability.6 While it was not unusual for a surgeon to be raised to captain, Collingwood was acting as both surgeon and captain of a very overcrowded ship. Usually the ship’s surgeon would keep an independent record or log, but because he was carrying out both roles, another vital piece of documentation was not kept.

Most slave ships carried twice the amount of food and drink they would need for the dreaded middle passage. As first mate, James Kelsall was responsible for loading and storing food. He took on fifteen or sixteen butts of water (162 gallons each), but failed to check the supplies at the point of departure or during the passage.

At some point in the voyage Collingwood fell sick, and was unable to command the ship. He appears to have suspended Kelsall, and given command to the passenger Robert Stubbs. This is another strange twist in the story. Stubbs, the only witness asked to give evidence at the Zong trial, was an ex-slaver captain (of the Black Joke), and former Governor of Anomabu, a small slave-trading post on the Gold Coast of Africa. He had a reputation as a drunk and a scoundrel. It’s unclear exactly what part he played: he later claimed that he was an innocent bystander.

On 21 November the water supplies were checked, and it was discovered that many of the butts were not full. The crossing had been slower than expected, and it appeared that a large amount of water had leaked from the butts in the lower tier. At this stage there didn’t seem to be anything to worry about, as the ship had enough water for thirteen days, and Jamaica, their destination, was only eight days away. For a Liverpool slave ship such as the Zong, the usual allocation of water was four pints per person per day. Unfortunately, no one suggested the wise measure of limiting the rations for slaves and crew.

Then a serious navigational error was made. The Zong’s crew sighted Jamaica, but believed it to be the French-held St Domingo, so they sailed away from shore. Because the captain was sick and the first mate suspended, it is unclear who made the mistake. By the time it was recognised, the ship was three hundred miles from Jamaica. Kelsall was reinstated as first mate, but the ship only had enough water for four days, and it would now take between ten and fourteen to return to Jamaica.

On 29 November the suggestion was made to destroy part of the slave cargo in order to protect the rest. That evening, at 8 p.m., fifty-four women and children were pushed through cabin windows into the sea. Two days later, forty-two men were thrown overboard. Ten jumped voluntarily. On the third day a final group of thirty-six men was dispatched. One man clambered back aboard the ship.

James Kelsall later stated that the slaves were fit and healthy, but this would be disputed by many abolitionists.

Between the first and last massacre, on 1 December, heavy rain fell, replenishing the water supplies. At one point, a slave appealed for their lives to be spared, but he was ignored.

One of the most horrifying massacres in the terrible history of the slave ships had occurred. But nobody would have heard of it had the Gregson syndicate not made the tactical mistake of claiming insurance for the ‘cargo’ that had been jettisoned. The insurers refused to pay up, and the case went to court. There was never a case for murder. It was an insurance claim. And insurance was Lord Mansfield’s speciality.