The Slave’s Diary

Written by Kenneth R. McClelland

While on a hunt with his father, a young boy named Kimbo is kidnapped out of Africa to become a slave in America in the 19th century. Sold like property to various plantation owners, one day he makes his escape from an angry master attempting to kill him, and in the midst of his escape he manages to rescue a kidnapped white girl he finds in the woods. After getting a near death beating by his last master, Kimbo is finally redeemed when a white preacher steps up to show him what true freedom really is.

Here is an excerpt from the book:

“Loud noises were coming from the other side of the hull beside where I was leaning, perhaps the anchor being pulled from the water and onto the deck. I felt the large ship begin to move to the left and then the right as they turned the ship in their attempt to steer it into the wind which seemed to keep changing direction. We moved through the water slowly at first, but once we were pointed in the right direction, it felt like we were racing across the water. Then suddenly, the ship leaned hard to the left, away from me, as the captain turned it again towards the ever shifting winds.

This sent many of us crashing into the person on the other side of the bench we were on as we were driven by the forces of nature to lean into him. One man cried out in agony as the weight of two dozen slaves from our row leaned hard against him. I braced myself because I was on the other side and expected it would be just moments before we’d be tossed the other way, with me on the painful end. But the ship found its direction and gradually eased into a more upright position, allowing me to relax for a while.

The ship swayed gently back and forth as her full sails held fast to the wind, carrying us very swiftly over the ocean waters. But that was soon to change. The men who were at first sobbing had now stopped, and the poor man we’d crushed earlier finally quit groaning from the pain he suffered from it. It was quiet for a little while, aside from the noises the ship made as it skipped along. You could hear the ropes snap and pop now and then as they strained to hold the sails taut, while the deck and side boards creaked loudly all around us, almost in rhythm as they strained to hold each other in place.

We could tell that the winds were picking up as the cloth sails began slapping back and forth as the winds blew them in one direction and then quickly into another. All the while they were driving us faster and further away from our homes, but to where, not a one of us knew. The once gentle motion of the ship was now roughly tossing us all back and forth. Many were getting sick again and the hold filled with the sounds of sickness and the rank smell of vomit that mixed with the other odors. I quickly joined the sick even though I had not eaten for almost two days.

The door above us opened for just a moment, long enough to let in some amount of light that hurt our eyes, which by then had grown accustomed to the darkness. It was a welcome, though brief relief, as it also let in a sudden rush of fresh air to help drive away the smells. Yet with it also came the sounds of the fierce winds howling and screaming outside of the ship, which filled our ears and strengthened our fears.

A white man came down the steps to us carrying a lantern, holding it up high to see that we were all still in our places, and then he quickly went back up the stairs through the door and closed it tightly behind him. Sea-water washed in from the deck above us from beneath the door. The ship leaned hard to one side and then to the other as wave after wave threw itself against us. Many of those with me were crying out in their own languages, perhaps seeking mercy, perhaps seeking death. Someone in the darkness cried out in my language that we were all going to die, while another voice laughed out loud as if to imply that god was angry with the white men and he was going to kill them all. I feared that we would all die with t

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