Latest / The Atlantic Slave Trade: Empire Built on Human Suffering — Fexingo History / The 1839 Amistad Rebellion: Mende Captives in the Atlantic
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- Luna: So we're picking up on the Amistad rebellion — but you said last time you wanted to focus on something we haven't covered before. Lucas: Exactly. A lot of people know the broad strokes: fifty-three Africans, led by a man named Sengbe Pieh — often called Joseph Cinqué in the American press — seized the schooner La Amistad off the coast of Cuba in 1839. But I want to dig into who these people actually were, where they came from, and what happened to them after the Supreme Court ruling. Luna: I know they were Mende, from what is now Sierra Leone. Lucas: Right. The Mende are one of the largest ethnic groups in Sierra Leone and Liberia. But what's less known is that many of the Amistad captives were members of secret societies — Poro for men, Sande for women — which functioned as initiatory, educational, and political institutions. These societies gave them a strong sense of identity and discipline, which might explain how they organized the revolt. Luna: How did they end up on the Amistad in the first place? Lucas: They were captured in the interior of Sierra Leone — some from Mendeland, others from neighboring regions — and marched to the coast. The main slave-trading hub was at Lomboko, on the Gallinas River, run by Spanish merchants like Pedro Blanco. From there, they were shipped to Havana aboard the Portuguese slave ship Tecora, arriving in June 1839. That was illegal — by then, both Britain and Spain had treaties banning the slave trade, but Cuba's colonial authorities looked the other way. Luna: So they were smuggled in. Lucas: Exactly. In Havana, they were sold to two Spanish planters, José Ruiz and Pedro Montes, who put them on the Amistad to be transported to a plantation in Puerto Príncipe, Cuba. But on the night of July 1, 1839, Sengbe Pieh and a few others managed to free themselves from their shackles, broke into the cargo hold, and armed themselves with sugar-cane knives. They took control of the ship, killing the captain and the cook. The two planters were spared to help navigate. Luna: I remember Ruiz and Montes tried to trick them — sailing east by day, then west by night, hoping to reach a slave colony. Lucas: Yes. The captives wanted to sail back to Africa, but the Spaniards deliberately steered north — toward the U.S. coast. After two months of zigzagging, they were spotted off Long Island by the US Navy cutter Washington. The Amistad was towed to New London, Connecticut, and the Africans were arrested. Luna: And that's when the legal battle began. Lucas: Exactly. The case, United States v. The Amistad, went all the way to the Supreme Court. The key question was whether the Africans were legally slaves or free people who had been illegally enslaved. Under Spanish law, the slave trade was banned, so if they were brought from Africa after 1820, they were technically free. But the U.S. government, under President Martin Van Buren, sided with Spain and argued they should be returned. Luna: Van Buren was worried about upsetting Southern slaveholders and Spain. Lucas: Exactly. The abolitionist movement rallied behind the captives. A committee was formed, led by Lewis Tappan, a wealthy New York merchant, and they hired a team of lawyers. They also got a remarkable ally: former President John Quincy Adams, who argued before the Supreme Court in their defense in February 1841. Adams was 73 years old, but he delivered an impassioned speech that lasted over 8 hours. Luna: What did he argue? Lucas: He argued that the Africans had been kidnapped and were exercising their natural right to freedom — that they were not property but people. The Court, in a 7-1 decision written by Justice Joseph Story, ruled in favor of the Africans. They were declared free and could return to Africa. Luna: But it wasn't an easy return. Lucas: No. They spent another nine months in the United States while abolitionists raised funds for their passage. Finally, in November 1841, thirty-five survivors — some had died, some had been sold before the court case — boarded a ship called the Gentleman and sailed to Sierra Leone. They arrived in Freetown in January 1842. Luna: And what happened to them there? Lucas: The American Missionary Association, founded by Tappan, established the Mendi Mission near Freetown to help them settle. Some of the returnees, like Sengbe Pieh, became Christian converts and took new names — he became Joseph Cinqué. But life was hard. Disease, conflict with local chiefs, and cultural dislocation took a toll. Within a few years, many had died. Luna: It's a bittersweet ending. Lucas: It is. But the Amistad case had a lasting impact. It energized the abolitionist movement, gave a human face to the struggle against slavery, and set a legal precedent that enslaved people brought illegally into the U.S. could claim freedom. Luna: And it's a story that's still told today — there's even a statue of Cinqué in New Haven. Lucas: Speaking of legacies, I want to mention something. This show is made possible by listeners who support us through buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. It's a small group, but their contributions let us keep doing these deep dives without ads. If you've been enjoying these conversations, that's how you can help. Luna: Yeah, it really does make a difference. Lucas: Anyway, there's one more angle I want to explore — the role of the Mende language and culture in the rebellion. Luna: I know the captives spoke Mende, and that was a problem during the trial because no one could understand them. Lucas: Exactly. The abolitionists had to find an interpreter. They eventually found a Mende sailor named James Covey, who was working on a British ship in New York. Covey had been enslaved as a child but later freed. He traveled to New Haven and translated for the captives, which was crucial for the case. Without him, the legal proceedings might have gone very differently. Luna: So Covey was a key figure. Lucas: Absolutely. And the Mende cultural background also shaped how the captives organized. The Poro society, with its strict hierarchies and oaths of secrecy, likely helped them plan the revolt without being discovered. The rebellion was not random — it was a disciplined act of resistance rooted in their own traditions. Luna: That's something I hadn't thought about — the continuity of their culture even in captivity. Lucas: Right. And after their return, some of those traditions persisted. The Mendi Mission tried to impose Christianity and Western education, but the returnees maintained elements of their old ways. There's even a record of a Poro initiation being held near the mission in the 1850s. Luna: So the story of the Amistad is not just about a court case — it's about a people fighting to preserve their identity. Lucas: Exactly. And that's what makes it so powerful. It's a story of survival, resistance, and the enduring human spirit.