1
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THE

AMISTAD

REVOLT:

An Historical Legacy of Sierra Leone

and

TheUnited States

By

Arthur Abraham
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INTRODUCTION

In 1839, slaves aboard a ship called the

Amistad revolted to secure their freedom while

being transported from one Cuban port to 

another. Their leader was Sengbe Pieh, a young

Mende man, but popularly known in United States

history as Joseph Cinque. The slaves had been

kidnapped mostly from the neighborhood of the

Colony of Sierra Leone and sold to Spanish

slavers. They eventually received their freedom

in 1841, after two years’ internment in the United

States awaiting the verdict of the courts regarding

their “revolt.” This was the celebrated Amistad

Case, an episode far better known in the United

States than on the other side of the Atlantic. But

the incident had a far-reaching impact on both

sides, influencing the course of American history

and especially the development of Afro-American 

culture, while, in Sierra Leone, leading to the

inauguration of American missionary activity that

trained many of the elite group that led the

nationalist movement to achieve independence

from colonial rule.
CAPTURE AND

ENSLAVEMENT

Sengbe Pieh, the hero in this

episode, was born about 1813 in

the town of Mani in Upper Mende

country, a distance of ten days’

march from the Vai or Gallinas coast.

Said to have been the son of a local

chief, he was married with a son and

two daughters. Sengbe, a farmer, was

going to his field one day in late

January 1839 when he was captured in

a surprise attack by four men, his right

hand tied to his neck. He was taken to

a nearby village where he passed three

days with a man called Mayagilalo,

apparently the boss of his captors.

Indebted to the son of the Vai King

Manna Siaka, Mayagilalo gave over

Sengbe to him in settlement. After

staying in Siaka’s town for a month,

Sengbe was marched to Lomboko, a

notorious slave-trading island near

Sulima on the Gallinas coast, and sold

to the richest slaver there, the Spaniard

Pedro Blanco, whose activities had

helped to make King Siaka wealthy as

well.

At Lomboko, Sengbe was imprisoned

with other slaves, while fresh ones

joined them for the two months they

were there, waiting to be transported

across the Atlantic. Most of the captives came from Mende country, but

others were Kono, Sherbro, Temne,

Kissi, Gbandi (in present-day Liberia),

and Loma (in present-day Liberia and

in Guinea, where they are known as

Guerze). Some, who did not speak

Mende, learned the language during

their forced journey through Mende

country to the coast. Most were farmers, but it is said that others were

hunters and blacksmiths. This is surprising, because all over West Africa

blacksmiths held a sacred place

in society and could neither be enslaved

nor killed even in war.

All these people were shipped from

Lomboko in March aboard the schooner

Tecora, which arrived at Havana in the

Spanish colony of Cuba in June. At a

slave auction following advertisement,

Jose Ruiz, a Spanish plantation owner,

bought Sengbe and forty-eight others

for $450 each to work on his sugar

plantation at Puerto Principe, another

Cuban port three hundred miles from

Havana. Pedro Montez, another

Spaniard bound for the same port,

bought four children, three girls and a

boy. On June 26, the fifty-three

Africans were herded on board an

American-built schooner, originally

called Friendship, but changed to the

Spanish La Amistad when the vessel

changed ownership and registration to a

Spanish subject. Although Spain had

prohibited the importation of new slaves

into her territories since 1820, the two

Spanish planters were able to obtain

official permits to transport their slaves.

They chartered the Amistad from

Ramon Ferrer, who was both owner and

captain. Apart from the fifty-three

Africans and their Spanish owners, the

schooner carried a crew comprising the

master, Ferrer; his two black slaves,

Antonio (the cabin boy) and Celestino

(the cook); and two white seamen. The

ship also carried a cargo of dishes,

cloth, jewelry, and various luxury items

and staples. The cargo was insured for

$40,000. Ruiz insured his forty-nine

slaves for $20,000, while Montez

insured the four children for $1,300.

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THE REVOLT

he trip to Puerto Principe usually

took three days, but the winds

were adverse. Three days out at

sea, on June 30, Sengbe used a

loose spike he had removed from the

deck to unshackle himself and his fellow slaves. They had been whipped

and maltreated and, at one point, made

to believe that they would be killed for

supper on arrival. Sengbe armed himself and the others with cane knives

found in the cargo hold. He then led

them on deck, where they killed

Captain Ferrer and the cook Celestino

and wounded the Spaniard Montez. But

Sengbe spared Montez’ life together

with those of Ruiz and Antonio, the

cabin boy. The mutineers lost two of

their own party, killed by Captain 

Ferrer. The two white seamen managed to escape from the Amistad in a

small boat.

Sengbe then ordered the Spaniards to

sail in the direction of the rising of the

sun, or eastward towards Africa. At

night, however, Montez, who had some

experience as a sailor, navigated by the

stars and sailed westward, hoping to

remain in Cuban waters. But a gale

drove the ship northeast along the

United States coastline. The schooner

followed a zigzag course for two

months, during which eight more slaves

died of thirst and exposure. Sengbe

held command the whole time, forcing

the others to conserve food and water,

and allotting a full ration only to the

four children. He took the smallest portion for himself.

RECAPTURE

he Amistad drifted off Long

Island, New York, in late August

1839. Sengbe and others went

ashore to trade for food and supplies and to negotiate with local seamen

to take them back to Africa. News

soon got around about a mysterious

ship in the neighborhood with her “sails

nearly all blown to pieces.” It was the

“long, low, black schooner,” the story of

which had been appearing in newspapers in previous weeks as the ship

cruised northeast along the U.S. coastline. Reports said that Cuban slaves

had revolted and killed the crew of a

Spanish ship and were roaming the

Atlantic as buccaneers. 

On August 26, the United States survey brig Washington, under command

of Lt. Commander Thomas R. Gedney,

sighted the battered schooner near

Culloden Point on the eastern tip of

Long Island. The United States Navy

and the Customs Service had previously issued orders for the capture of the

ship; and Commander Gedney seized

the Amistad and took her in tow to New

London, Connecticut, arriving there the

following day. Gedney sent a message

at once to the United States Marshall at

New Haven who, in turn, notified United

States District Judge Andrew Judson.

The latter was certainly no friend of the

black man, for in 1833 he had prosecuted a Miss Prudence Crandall for

admitting Negroes into her school in

Canterbury, Connecticut. 

Judge Judson held court on board

the Washington on August 29, in New

London harbor, examining the ship’s

documents and hearing the testimony

of Ruiz and Montez, as well as their

urgent request that the ship and all its

cargo, including the Africans, be sur5
rendered to the Spanish Consul in

Boston. Judson immediately released

Ruiz and Montez and ordered that

Sengbe and the others be tried for murder and piracy at the next session of the

Circuit Court, due to open on

September 17 at Hartford, Connecticut.

The Africans were consigned to the

county jail in New Haven. 

Meanwhile, Ruiz had renamed Sengbe

Pieh “Jose Cinque” in order to show

that Sengbe was not a recent importee

and that he, Ruiz, was therefore not

guilty of violating the prohibition law of

1820. Cinque, being a Spanish approximation of Sengbe, soon found further

distortion in the press as “Cinquez,”

“Sinko,” “Jinqua,” etc. When the

Amistad was captured off Long Island,

a reporter from the New York Sun witnessed Sengbe’s defiance of his captors

and repeated attempts to escape.

Sengbe jumped overboard and had to

be dragged back onto the ship:

he urged his fellow slaves to fight

against hopeless odds, and was taken

away to the American vessel and separated from his men; he made such violent protest that the naval officers

allowed him to remain on the

Washington’s deck, where he stood and

stared fixedly at the Amistad throughout the night. The New York Sun

reported:

He evinces no emotion...and

had he lived in the days of Greece

or Rome, his name would have

been handed down to posterity as

one who had practiced those most

sublime of all virtues — disinterested patriotism and unshrinking

courage.

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Senge Pieh and the “Amistads” at the time of their capture in 1839. The Africans had been

kidnapped mostly from the area of the Colony of Sierra Leone and sold to Spanish slavers.
THE ABOLITIONISTS 

STEP IN

t this time, the U.S. anti-slavery

movement was in disarray, with

divergent views on several issues

— political action, women’s

rights, American churches and slavery,

and the basic nature of American government. The Amistad Case provided a

focal point for rallying the dispersed

ranks of the abolitionists, as they all

came out in defense of the captives,

fully convinced of their innocence. This

was put forth in the Herald of Freedom: 

Cinques is no pirate, no 

murderer, no felon. His homicide is

justifiable. Had a white man done

it, it would have been glorious. 

It would have immortalized him.

Joseph Cinques ought not to be

tried. Everybody knows he is 

innocent. He could not be guilty.

The paper added that Lt. Commander

Gedney had no authority to capture the

Amistad, she being “the lawful prize of

Commandant Joseph Cinques....

That she was ‘suspicious’ looking, is no

warrant.”

This strong conviction was, however,

not enough. The abolitionists had to

get the Africans’ version of events and

to obtain counsel to prove their innocence before the Circuit Court. They

held no illusions about the difficulties.

The day following Judge Judson’s

orders, the abolitionists of New Haven

met and wrote to fellow abolitionists in

New York to check on the validity of the

ship’s documents, find an African who

could speak the language of the captives and record their own version, and,

finally, obtain qualified counsel. 

A committee formed to defend the

hapless Africans formally

became the “Amistad Committee” on

September 4, comprised, inter alia, of

Joshua Leavitt, editor of the

Emancipator, the official organ of the

American Anti-Slavery Society; Rev.

Simeon S. Jocelyn, a white pastor of a

black church in New York; and Lewis

Tappan, a wealthy New York merchant

and prominent abolitionist. Tappan

launched the campaign for the defense

of the Amistad Africans and issued an

“Appeal to the Friends of Liberty”: 

Thirty-eight fellow men from

Africa, having been piratically kidnapped from their native land,

transported across the seas, and

subjected to atrocious cruelties,

have been thrown upon our shores,

and are now incarcerated in jail to

await their trial for crimes alleged to

have been committed by them.

They are ignorant of our language,

of the usages of civilized society,

and the obligations of Christianity.

Under these circumstances, several

friends of human rights have met to

consult upon the case of these

unfortunate men, and have appointed the undersigned a Committee to

employ interpreters and able counsel and take all the necessary

means to secure the rights of the

accused. It is intended to employ

three legal gentlemen of distinguished abilities, and to incur other

needful expenses. The poor prisoners being destitute of clothing, and

several having scarcely a rag to

cover them, immediate steps will be

taken to provide what may be necessary. The undersigned therefore

make this appeal to the friends of

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humanity to contribute for the

above objects. Donations may be

sent to either of the Committee, who

will acknowledge the same and 

make a public report of all their 

disbursement.

SIMEON S. JOCELYN, 34, WALL STREET. 

JOSHUA LEAVITT, 143, NASSAU STREET. 

LEWIS TAPPAN, 122, PEARL STREET.

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Senge Pieh, or “Joseph Cinque” as he is known in the United States. 

This painting, by Nathaniel Jocelyn, was made while Senge was awaiting trial in 

New Haven, Connecticut.
Defense counsel comprised the

formidable team of Roger Baldwin, Seth

Staple, and Theodore Sedgwick, among

the best legal minds of the day. But the

lawyers recognized a serious limitation

to any case they might present if an

interpreter were not found to tell the

story of the captives. A desperate

search began that was only partially

successful before the trial. Lewis

Tappan brought from New York three

Africans, one of whom was a Kissi (a

neighboring ethnic group of the Mende)

who could converse very limitedly with

some of the captives. But the interpreter was able to corroborate the opinion of the abolitionists that the Amistad

captives had been kidnapped in Africa

and sold illegally into slavery.

The issue before the Amistad

Committee was a delicate and sensitive

one. The abolitionist movement had

been deeply divided before the Amistad

incident, and this incident restored unity

to the movement. But there were some

people who sympathized with the captives, but were in no sense abolitionists.

To have pegged the Amistad Case to a

general campaign for the abolition of

slavery would have alienated their sympathy, thus weakening the financial and

moral base of the Committee. One

respondent to the “Appeal,” for

instance, stated clearly that he was 

“a friend of human rights, but not an

abolitionist.”

FIRST TRIAL

n September 14, all the prisoners,

except one who was too ill to

travel, were removed from New

Haven to Hartford, the capital of

Connecticut, where the trial opened on

September 17, with Judge Smith

Thompson presiding. After three days

of legal battling, the judge rendered his

opinion: the Circuit Court had no jurisdiction over the charges of murder and

piracy, since the alleged crimes were

committed on a Spanish ship and in

Spanish waters; the various property

claims, including Ruiz’ and Montez’

claims to the African “slaves,” should

be decided in a District Court; and the

writ of habeas corpus for the release of

the small girls was rejected. 

As soon as the Circuit Court

adjourned, Judge Judson convened a

District Court in the same room. He

decreed that the property claims needed more investigation, but that the captives could be released on bail, based

on their appraised value as slaves on

the Cuban market. The defense

lawyers rejected this bail formula, which

implied that the Amistad Africans were

slaves, and the captives were returned

to prison. 

The interpreter had not been effective

during the trial, and the Amistad

Committee intensified the search for

another who could speak Mende fluently. J.W. Gibbs, Professor of Theology

and Sacred Literature at Yale Divinity

School, took a great interest in the

Amistad captives. He learned to count

from one to ten in Mende and, armed

with this new knowledge, proceeded to

the New York docks, counting to every

African sailor he met. His efforts paid

dividends when, in early October, he

found James Covey, a seaman on the

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British warship Buzzard, who

could understand him. Covey, a

Mende, had been captured and sold as

a child, but was recaptured by British

squadrons and brought to Freetown

where he was released. He learned to

speak English fluently and joined the

British Navy. Professor Gibbs took

Covey to see the Amistad captives in

the New Haven jail, and the Africans

shouted for joy when they heard Covey

speak in Mende. They could now relate

their version of the events. 

Meanwhile, the Amistad Committee

was not happy with treatment of the

captives, and began efforts to provide

for their physical well-being and their

intellectual and religious instruction.

Rev. George Day, a former professor at

the New York Institution for the Deaf

and Dumb, was employed to supervise

the instruction of the Mende captives by

Yale Divinity School students. The

teachers began their instruction with

simple pictures and sign language. By

this time, several captives had already

died in custody from the lingering

effects of exposure, hunger, and dehydration suffered aboard the Amistad.

DEMANDS OF THE

SPANISH GOVERNMENT

he Spanish government had put

forward certain demands to the

United States even before the

Hartford trial. The Spanish

Minister, de la Barca, wrote to the

Secretary of State, John Forsyth, a former Minister to Spain and a known

defender of Negro slavery, that when

the Amistad was “ rescued,” she should

have been set free to return to Cuba so

that the Africans on board could have

been “tried by the proper tribunal, and

by the violated laws of the country of

which they are subjects.” This had not

been done, and so he put forward a further set of demands. He claimed the

vessel and cargo, including the

Africans, in the name of the Spanish

Monarch, demanding that they be sent

back to Havana for adjudication, since

“no tribunal in the United States has the

right to institute proceedings against, or

to impose penalties upon, the subjects

of Spain, for crimes committed on

board a Spanish vessel, and in waters

of the Spanish territory.” He cited articles of existing treaties between the

United States and Spain to buttress his

case. 

The U.S. President, Martin Van Buren,

had no strong views on the slavery

question, but he depended on the support of the Southern pro-slavery

Democrats, whose goodwill he wished

to maintain for the upcoming presidential election in 1840. He, therefore, told

Forsyth on September 11 to instruct

District Attorney William S. Holabird to

“take care that no proceedings of your

Circuit Court, or any other judicial tribunal, place the vessel, cargo, or slaves

beyond the control of the Federal

Executive.” The President hoped that

the courts would order the Amistad

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captives returned to Cuba, thus

relieving him of political pressure from

both the Southern Democrats and the

Spanish government; but he was prepared to return the captives on his own

authority, if necessary. To bolster support for such a potential move and to

placate the Spanish, he requested an

opinion from U.S. Attorney General

Felix Grundy, who declared that the

Africans were to be considered the

property of those for whom the Spanish

Minister was claiming them, and that

the ship should be returned with all its

contents to Cuba. The Cabinet

endorsed this view.

DEFENSE STRATEGY OF

THE ABOLITIONISTS

he Amistad Committee was

painfully aware that the

President’s policy aimed at 

condemning the African captives

to permanent slavery, or possibly death,

and the abolitionists worked out a

defense strategy to ensure that the verdict did not go against them. They built

up a case around the argument that the

Africans were not legally slaves, as they

had been brought to Havana and sold

there contrary to the Anglo-Spanish

Treaty of 1820, which prohibited the

transatlantic slave trade. This treaty

had been re-affirmed in 1835 and followed by a Royal Order from the Queen

of Spain in 1838 directing the CaptainGeneral of Cuba to enforce the law with

“the strongest zeal.”

This line of defense was strengthened

by a deposition made by Dr. R.R.

Madden, a native of Ireland, who had

served the British government in the

Gold Coast (Ghana) and in Havana,

Cuba, as a Commissioner on the Court

of Mixed Commission for suppressing

the slave trade. Dr. Madden revealed

that flagrant violations of treaty stipulations regarding the slave trade were

openly sanctioned by the Spanish

Captain-General and other government

officials in Cuba, and that the American

Consul there, Nicholas Trist, was a collaborator who reaped huge financial

benefits from the slave trade. Dr.

Madden came to New York in

November and met with Lewis Tappan.

He went to see the captives at New

Haven and proceeded to Hartford to

give evidence at the trial. Since the

trial had been deferred, he had to give

testimony to Judge Judson in chambers.

Dr. Madden argued that the Amistad

captives were recent importees. On the

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licenses for transporting them

from Havana to Puerto Principe, they

had been entered as Ladinos, i.e.,

slaves brought to Cuba before 1820.

But Madden pointed out that this type

of forgery was common practice in

Cuba and that Ruiz’ and Montez’ papers

of ownership were not legally valid.

About this time, Ruiz and Montez

were arrested in New York on charges

of assault, kidnapping, and false imprisonment, brought against them on behalf

of two of the Africans. Lewis Tappan,

the real leader of the Amistad

Committee, was blamed for this action,

which horrified political conservatives.

Bail was fixed at $1,000 each. Montez

paid immediately and departed for

Cuba. Ruiz chose to enlist sympathy

by staying in jail. The Spanish Minister

immediately protested to the State

Department that for alleged offenses

committed in Cuba, the U.S. Courts had

no jurisdiction. The Secretary of State,

Forsyth, instructed the District Attorney

to render every possible assistance to

the Spaniards. The abolitionists were

accused of “making sport of the law....”

It was a tactical error on the part of the

abolitionists, and it cost them some

support from moderates. But Ruiz

finally got tired of confinement, paid the

bail, and returned to Cuba. Ruiz and

Montez were both absent at the final

hearing.

SECOND TRIAL

he U.S. District Court opened at

Hartford, Connecticut, on

November 19, 1839, to hear the

case, but it adjourned to January

because of the absence of certain cardinal witnesses. In the interim, the

Spanish Minister pressed his claims

once again, and Forsyth promised that

he would get a ship ready to transport

the captives to Cuba, should the verdict

go against them, so that the abolitionists would have no time to appeal.

When the Court resumed hearings on

January 8, the U.S. Navy schooner

Grampus was in the New Haven harbor

on instructions of the President, who,

many felt, “went to disgraceful

extremes in his persistent attempts to

thwart justice as promulgated by the

courts.” The three defense counsels

urged the President not to have the

case decided outside the courts “in the

recesses of Cabinet, where these

unfriended men can have no counsel

and can produce no proof....” The abolitionists stood watch in shifts over the

New Haven jail. They were afraid that

the President might send men to seize

the Amistad Africans even before the

trial had concluded, and they were prepared to hide the captives, if necessary.

On January 13, 1840, Judge Judson

finally rendered his verdict: the Amistad

captives had been kidnapped and sold

into slavery in violation of Spanish law;

they were legally free and should, therefore, be transported back to Africa,

whence they had been taken against

their will. During the trial, Sengbe had

made a favorable impression by giving

detailed testimony through the interpreter, showing how he and his fellow

Africans were kidnapped, bound, and

mistreated. Emotion overcame him at

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one point, and Sengbe rose and

shouted in English: “Give us free! Give

us free!” But many people were against

this freedom verdict, among them

President Van Buren. He ordered

District Attorney Holabird to appeal

immediately against the decision.

Meanwhile, the Amistad captives

were continuing with their classes in

reading and writing and in the doctrines

of Christianity. Despite their bitter disappointment at remaining in custody

even after a favorable court decision,

they still approached their studies with

enthusiasm. The days began with

James Covey translating Christian

prayers into Mende, followed by a short

sermon, and then instruction in the

English language. The best pupil was

eleven-year-old Kali, one of the four

Amistad children, who learned to read

and write with surprising speed. But all

of the Amistad captives were keen to

learn, and at times they grasped their

Yale Divinity School teachers at the end

of the day, pleading with them to stay

just a bit longer. During this period little

Kali wrote:

We talk American language a little, not very good. We write everyday; we write plenty letters; we

read most all time; we read all

Matthew and Mark and Luke and

John, and plenty of little books. We

love books very much.

EX-PRESIDENT ADAMS 

AND THE THIRD TRIAL

he Amistad Committee recognized the need for a public figure

of the highest standing to plead the

cause of the African captives

before the United States Supreme

Court. The abolitionists persuaded 

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John Quincy Adams, at age 73 and then a 

former President of the United States, came out

of retirement to speak on behalf of the

“Amistads” before the U.S. Supreme Court.
former President John Quincy Adams

to lead the defense. At seventy-three,

and thirty years out of legal practice,

the ex-President was reluctant to accept

the case, lest he should jeopardize the

lives of the Africans by failing to win.

He wrote in his diary:

The world, the flesh, and all the

devils in hell are arrayed against

any man who now in this North

American Union shall dare to join

the standard of Almighty God to

put down the African slave trade;

and what can I, upon the verge of

my 74th birthday, with a shaken

hand, a darkening eye, a drowsy

brain, and with my faculties dropping from me one by one as the

teeth are dropping from my head —

what can I do for the cause of God

and man, for the progress of human

emancipation, for the suppression of

the African slave-trade? Yet my

conscience presses me on; let me

but die upon the breach.

Thus, Adams accepted the sensational case that came to be called “the

trial of one President by another.”

Attorney Baldwin prepared an elaborate

defense and opened the case, but on

February 24, “Old Man Eloquent,” as

Adams came to be called thereafter,

addressed the Court for a total of four

and a half hours. On March 9, 1841,

the United States Supreme Court issued

its final verdict in the Amistad Case —

the captives were free! Adams sent

word at once to Lewis Tappan, the 

principal leader of the Amistad

Committee: “Thanks — Thanks in the

name of humanity and of justice, 

to YOU.”

THE RETURN HOME

he Africans were released from

custody and taken to

Farmington, an early abolitionist

town in Connecticut, where they

received more formal education for the

rest of 1841. As President Van Buren

refused to provide a ship to repatriate

them, the Amistad Committee assumed

complete responsibility for the Africans.

To raise funds to charter a ship, the

abolitionists organized a speaking tour

in the Northern states, and the

“Amistads” went from town to town,

appearing before sympathetic audiences, telling the story of their ordeal,

and displaying their knowledge of written and spoken English. By this time

Sengbe Pieh, or Joseph Cinque, had

become a public figure in the United

States, and many were anxious to see

the man whom Northern newspapers

compared to the heroes of ancient

Greece and Rome. 

Towards the end of the year enough

funds had been raised, and the barque

Gentleman was chartered for $1,840.

The thirty-five surviving Africans would

travel to the Colony of Sierra Leone,

accompanied by five American missionaries. Among the five were two

black Americans, Mr. and Mrs. Henry

Wilson, who had taught at Farmington,

and three whites, Rev. and Mrs. William

Raymond and Rev. James Steele. The

Amistad Committee instructed the

Americans to start a “Mendi Mission” in

Sierra Leone. Before the ship left,

Lewis Tappan addressed the passengers, and Sengbe replied on behalf of

his fellow Africans. The newspapers

reported a deeply moving scene in

which many of those present openly

wept.

As the Gentleman left, the plan of

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the passengers was “for all to

keep together and somewhere in the

vicinity of Cinque’s town to settle down

and commence a new town and then

persuade their friends to come and join

them, and then to adopt the American

dress and manners.” The ship arrived

in Freetown in mid-January 1842 amid

great excitement. Many of the new

arrivals were able to find friends and, in

some cases, family members. Sengbe

soon learned from Mende Recaptives

that his own home had been ravaged by

war and most of his family wiped out.

Thus, the hope to locate the Mendi

Mission near Sengbe’s town never

materialized. Having unrestricted association with many of their countrymen

in the Colony, some of the Amistad

Africans lost the desire to remain with

their American patrons. Anxious to get

to their homes and their families,

they drifted away, leaving only ten

adults and the four children. Sengbe,

himself, procured an investment of

goods with which he proceeded to

Sherbro country to purchase produce

for the Freetown market.

15

The “Amistads” return to Sierra Leone in

1842. In this painting,by Hale Woodruff,

Sengbe Pieh appears in the foreground with

three American missionaries. The barque

Gentleman is in the background. 
THE MENDI MISSION

I

t was not easy to find a location for

establishing a mission station, as

the original hope of building one

near Sengbe’s town was not feasible. After several attempts, Rev.

Raymond finally secured a place at

Komende in the Sherbro region in

1844. Raymond attributed his success

partly to Sengbe’s influence; and he

interpreted the dispersal of the former

captives as an advantage, because they

would spread news of the Mission far

and wide. The establishment of the

Mendi Mission was, in fact, due in no

small measure to the efforts of Rev.

Raymond, to whom every credit should

be given. In the course of time, the

Mission opened stations in several

places, one of which was named “Mo

Tappan” in gratitude for the selfless

assistance of Lewis Tappan. In 1846,

the Amistad Committee evolved into

the American Missionary Association,

and in that year the Association took

over full financial responsibility for the

Mendi Mission.

IMPACT IN SIERRA

LEONE

he Amistad Case gave rise to

American missionary activity in

Sierra Leone, with all its positive

consequences. The American

Missionary Association ultimately

turned over its mission stations in Sierra

Leone to the United Brethren in Christ

(UBC). Apart from evangelization

work, the UBC was responsible for

establishing an expansive system of

mission schools in the southern part of

the country, especially among the

Mende and Sherbro peoples. Many

schools were established and many new

technological skills introduced as part

of vocational training. The most celebrated of these schools are the Harford

School for Girls at Moyamba and Albert

Academy in Freetown. It should be

remembered that Albert Academy,

founded in 1904, was the first secondary school for upcountry boys (predating the government Bo School in

that capacity by many years), and that

many of the early students were

promising boys on scholarship. The

long-term impact of these developments was to help create an elite group

that excelled not only in Sierra Leone,

but in the United States as well. 

Some of the students who had their

early education in American mission

schools in Sierra Leone proceeded to

the United States for further studies,

and left a mark in America. Two

important examples are Barnabas Root

and Thomas Tucker. Root and Tucker

attended the original Mendi Mission

school and, after completing further

studies in the United States, were

employed by the American Missionary

Association — Tucker in 1862 as a

16
teacher in a school for freedmen in

Virginia, and Root in 1873 as pastor for

a Congregational Mission Church for

freedmen in Alabama. While Root later

returned to Sierra Leone, Tucker stayed

on in America and founded the State

Normal College (for blacks) at

Tallahassee, Florida, together with

Thomas Van Gibbs, in 1887. Tucker

was the first President of the College,

which grew into the present-day Florida

A&M University.

In the 20th century, American missionary activity helped give rise to a

nationalist elite which pressed for independence. Significantly, the first Prime

Minister of Sierra Leone, Dr. (later Sir)

Milton Margai, and the first Executive

President of Sierra Leone, Siaka

Stevens, were both products of

American mission primary schools in

the Southern part of the country and,

later, graduates of Albert Academy.

IMPACT IN THE 

UNITED STATES

by the time the Amistad Case

came to an end, it had so embittered feelings between the antislavery North and the slave-holding South that it must be counted as

one of the events leading to the outbreak of the American Civil War in

1860. Although the Supreme Court’s

decision in the Amistad Case was not

an attack on slavery, it drew the abolitionists together and prevented their

movement from breaking up.

Moreover, the missionary work that

began with the freedom of the Amistad

Africans led to the foundation of the

American Missionary Association in

1846, which was the largest and best

organized abolitionist society in the

United States before the outbreak of the

Civil War. After the War, the

Association established more than five

hundred schools and colleges in the

South and in the border states for the

education of newly liberated blacks.

These schools evolved into Atlanta,

Howard, Fisk, and Dillard Universities;

Hampton University; Talladega College;

etc, to which countless black

Americans owe their higher education.

The Amistad Case, thus, gave rise to

this tremendous network of institutions

in the South that educated the leaders

of the modern-day Civil Rights

Movement, including the venerable Dr.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

17
CONCLUSION

he Amistad Rebellion, which

began with the determination of

Sengbe Pieh and fifty-two other

Sierra Leoneans not to accept

enforced slavery, has had far reaching

consequences on two continents.

Although the origins are mostly forgotten today, the processes set in motion

by this revolt will continue to influence

the course of historical development in

both the United States and Sierra Leone

— thanks, in large measure, to the

courage of Sengbe Pieh.

Addendum: A Letter from Little Kali

to John Quincy Adams

Kali was one of the four Mende children, and the only little boy, among the

Amistad captives. He had been kidnapped from the streets of his own village, taken to the slave-trading base at

Lomboko, and then sent across the

Atlantic to Havana, Cuba. Later,

aboard the Amistad, ten-year-old Kali

was of some help to Sengbe Pieh. He

sat with the three little girls and kept

them quiet while Sengbe and the others, armed and unshackled, waited for

their opportunity to climb up to the

deck and surprise their captors. In the

United States, little Kali, at his young

and adaptable age, was able to learn to

speak and read English much faster

than the Amistad adults. In 1840, while

awaiting the final decision of the United

States Supreme Court on the issue of

his freedom, young Kali wrote this

thoughtful letter to former President

John Quincy Adams, his lawyer. Kali’s

feelings come through clearly — he is

angry at his arrest and imprisonment;

thankful to those who, like Mr.

Adams, have helped him and his fellow

captives; and deeply homesick.

When the Amistad captives gained

their freedom and went on a speaking

tour to raise money for their return passage to Sierra Leone, Kali was a star

performer. He impressed audiences

with his ability, after less than two years

of instruction, to write correctly any

sentence read to him from the Christian

gospels. Kali returned with the others

to Sierra Leone in 1842. He stayed

with the American missionaries and was

ultimately employed by the Mendi

Mission. Kali married, but, while still

young, contracted a disease that crippled him for the remaining years of his

life.

Dear Friend Mr. Adams:

I want to write a letter to you

because you love Mendi people, and

you talk to the grand court. We want to

tell you one thing. Jose Ruiz say we

born in Havana, he tell lie....We all born

in Mendi....

We want you to ask the Court what

we have done wrong. What for

Americans keep us in prison? Some

people say Mendi people crazy; Mendi

people dolt; because we no talk

American language. Merica people no

talk Mendi language; Merica 

people dolt?

They tell bad things about Mendi

people, and we no understand. Some

men say Mendi people very happy

because they laugh and have plenty to

eat. Mr. Pendleton come, and Mendi

people all look sorry because they think

about Mendi land and friends we no see

now. Mr. Pendleton say Mendi people

angry; white men afraid of Mendi 

people. The Mendi people no look sorry

18
again — that why we laugh. But

Mendi people feel sorry; O, we can’t tell

how sorry. Some people say Mendi

people no got souls. Why we feel bad,

[if] we no got souls...?

Dear friend Mr. Adams, you have

children, you have friends, you love

them, you feel sorry if Mendi people

come and carry them all to Africa. We

feel bad for our friends, and our friends

all feel bad for us. If American people

give us free we glad, if they no give us

free we sorry — we sorry for Mendi people little, we sorry for American people

great deal, because God punish liars.

We want you to tell court that Mendi

people no want to go back to Havana,

we no want to be killed. Dear Friend,

we want you to know how we feel.

Mendi people think, think, think.

Nobody know what we think, the

teacher he know, we tell him some.

Mendi people have got souls....All we

want is make us free.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Abraham, Arthur. “Sengbe Pieh: A

Neglected Hero?” Journal of the

Historical Society of Sierra Leone, vol. 2,

no. 2, 1978, pp. 22-30.

Abraham, Arthur. “Sengbe Pieh.”

Dictionary of African Biography. vol. 2.

Algonac, Michigan: Reference

Publications, 1979. pp. 141-144.

Adams, John Quincy. Argument of

John Quincy Adams Before the

Supreme Court of the United States, in

the Case of the United States, vs.

Cinque & Others: Africans Captured in

the Schooner Amistad. Westport,

Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1969.

Reprinted by Ayer, 1978.

Cable, Mary. Black Odyssey: The

Case of the Slave Ship Amistad. New

York: Viking Press, 1971. Reprinted by

Penguin Books, 1998.

Jackson, Donald Dale. “Mutiny on

the Amistad.” Smithsonian, December

1997, pp. 114-124.

Johnson, Clifton H. “The Amistad

Case and Its Consequences in U.S.

History.” Journal of the New Haven

Colony Historical Society, Spring 1990,

pp. 3-22.

Jones, Howard. “All We Want Is

Make Us Free.” American History,

January-February 1998, pp. 22-28, 71.

Jones, Howard. Mutiny on the

Amistad: The Saga of the Slave Revolt

and Its Impact on American Abolition,

Law, and Diplomacy. Revised and

expanded edition. New York: Oxford

University Press, 1997.

19
Kromer, Helen. The Amistad

Revolt 1839: The Slave Uprising Aboard

the Spanish Schooner. New York:

Franklin Watts, 1973. Reprinted by

Pilgrim Press, 1997, as Amistad: The

Slave Uprising Aboard the Spanish

Schooner.

Owens, William A. Slave Mutiny: The

Revolt on the Schooner Amistad.

London: Peter Davies, 1953. Reprinted

by Plume, 1997, as Black Mutiny: The

Revolt on the Schooner Amistad.

SELECTED INTERNET 

SITES

AFRICAN AMERICAN ODYSSEY —

PREVIEW (Library of Congress)

http://lcweb2.loc.gov/ammem/ 

aaohtml/aohome.html

THE AMISTAD CASE (National

Archives and Records Administration)

http://www.nara.gov/education/

teaching/amistad

THE AMISTAD IN THE GILDER

LEHRMAN COLLECTION (Gilder

Lehrman Institute of American History)

http://www.gilderlehrman.com/HTM/

amistad/index.html

AMISTAD RESEARCH CENTER

(Tulane University)

http://www.arc.tulane.edu/

CONNECTICUT: AMISTAD TRAIL

(Mystic Media, Inc.) http://

visitconnecticut.com/amistad.htm

EXPLORING AMISTAD: Race and the

Boundaries of Freedom in Antebellum

Maritime America (Mystic Seaport)

http://www.mysticseaport.org/

amistad.online/overview.html

LII AMISTAD HOME PAGE (Legal

Information Institute, Cornell University)

http://www.law.cornell.edu/amistad/

20
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Arthur Abraham is one of

Sierra Leone’s foremost historians. He is the

author of Mende Government and Politics Under

Colonial Rule and Topics in Sierra Leone History.

He is also a past editor of the Journal of the

Historical Society of Sierra Leone. Dr. Abraham

has lectured in Sierra Leone, Liberia, the

Netherlands, and the United States. He has held

a number of positions in government. 

This pamphlet was commissioned by the

United States Information Service 

in Freetown, Sierra Leone, in observance of the

Bicentenary of Sierra Leone and of the

Bicentennial of the Constitution of the United

States of America. It was first published in 1987.

Joseph Opala was the editorial production

coordinator for the original version. It is

being republished by the United States

Information Agency in 1998.

21

PICTURE CREDITS: p. 6, Chicago Historical Society; 

ICHi-22004; p. 8, New Haven Colony Historical Society;

p. 13, Culver Pictures, Inc.; p.15, The Amistad Murals,

painted by Hale Woodruff, are found at Savery Library,

Talladega College, Talladega, Alabama..