Devoid of Innocence

The truth, the truth is a fickle thing. It’s a shadow darting through the thoughts of men, swiftly disappearing into the dark crevices of the mind. Standing on the bow of the vessel, ironically named The Rescuer, I am able to escape the truth that has at once opened my naive eyes. I am able to escape the merciless cries of the prisoners, able to escape the cries and the God-awful stench mingled together to create a most vile and horrid poison. A poison whose only purpose is to silently creep upon unsuspecting person and wrap around their necks; to wring the life, the spirit, and the unabashed tears from their innocent souls.

I escape into the sea, watching as the waves crest and fall. Reflected back at me, in the glassy waters, is the face of a prisoner. For on this ship it is not only the captives who are bound. As part of the ships crew, I feel my shackles as bodily as any man. Not a physical touch, yet the weight of frozen iron closes, not around my wrists and ankles, but around my heart.

A place that was meant to be my solace, a place of peace, and a morose hope for purity transformed into a morbid and perverse reality. I force my self to turn away form the disheartening image, not to be lured into misery; only to encounter the grotesque face of human cruelty.

The enslave, the caged are shoved into the blinding sunlight, exposing their naked and wounded flesh. Young and old alike bore a collage of welts and bruises, each showing the unique hand of the inflictor. Most gashes were left to fester, rotting away at the soft tissue that lay beneath the skin. Even though, these slaves are well fed, they were not but cattle meant to be tamed and sold. So the welts remained unnursed as a reminder of who was the master, who had the power, and who was but mere livestock.

Unknowing of where to turn, I was faced with two paths. Down the first, I confront the truth of my own cowardice and weakness. I face myself as I have not before. With fear of being comfortable enough in these imposed chains to allow my body to stay restrained for the rest of my life, even as my mind wanders. Down the second path, I meet an aspect of human nature, which most try to hide from the gaze of human eyes. The fear of the unknown and the desire to conquer that fear, the surfaced brutality and the decision to fight back against that malice.

Instead, I chose to bury inside myself. In my mind, my secret thoughts, I prayed for the condemned souls of man. I sent my wish to god to give one man the strength and courage that I did not have. I wished everyday during that long journey, for one man to stand up, for a thousand men to stand up and speak. Yet it was not so. All stayed quiet during the voyage, resigned to wallowing in their own stench, reeking of decay, misery, and fear.

Many years later, my mind wanders back over all the ships I had worked on and all the voyages I had made. Yet, the one that stood out the most in my memory was the summer of 1750. That summer I learned more than any school could teach me. I learned about different cultures and the aspect of human nature that allows it to cover cruelty with the falsehood of good intention. Most importantly I learned about myself and the type of man I wanted to be.