by John Bailey
When the Emanuel, the juffer Johanna, and the Johanna Maria docked in New Orleans, Krahnstover didn’t allow his passengers to disembark. Fearful that some might run away, he posted guards near the gangplanks. For hours the immigrants stood on deck watching ships and steamers pass by. Evening came and they could hear the noise and activity of the city across the apron of the wharf, while on the other side of the river, too wide for anyone to swim, they could see the lights of Algiers. Surely it would be their last night on board? In apprehension and hope they waited for the morning, when Americans were to come to bid for them.
The next day a noisy throng of farmers, merchants and commercial gentlemen and their wives gathered on the levee to visit each of the three vessels in turn. Some wanted families to take into rural Louisiana. Others wanted men to act as overseers of slave gangs on cotton plantations while their wives worked as cooks and maids in the big house. Engineers were looking for strong men to help build the wharves and canals being constructed in the city. Merchants sought skilled tradesmen in printing and tailoring.
The bargaining, such as it was, was conducted through the captain of each ship. His interest in the welfare of the immigrant families was quite limited—he hardly cared how many years of servitude were settled upon, so long as the purchaser paid enough to cover any amount owing on the fare. The immigrants were at a disadvantage at every turn. They had no idea of their own value, or what their masters intended for them after they were sold. The negotiations were conducted in a tongue they didn’t understand and, when they were concluded, the newcomers were taken before a notary or a parish judge and asked to sign an indenture in a language they couldn’t read.
History hasn’t left a description of the sale of the people from Krahnstover’s vessels in New Orleans in 1818; however, an idea of what happened to them may be gauged from the experiences of the shiploads of redemptioners from Amsterdam who arrived in Baltimore and Philadelphia in the same year. A German writer, Johannes Ulrich Buechler, wrote of his visit to a redemptioners’ market aboard the Hope, in Baltimore:
… many ladies and gentlemen came to inspect the new arrivals and to confer with the ship owner who had with him an exact list of all families and persons who had not paid and also those who had paid in Amsterdam. I noticed that these ladies and gentlemen had in view especially small children and young people and I believe if there had been thousands of boys and girls on this ship, they would all have found desirable places.…
At first boys and daughters from 9 to 20 years were selected, also small children. As soon as they had agreed about the price, the purchasers departed with the young people they had bought. Then came a selection from the rest—farmers, artisans, etc.—so that I thought the ship would be empty in two days.
On the following day, a Sunday and a beautiful day, ladies and gentlemen as well as farmers and many other persons came to visit the parents and the remaining immigrants and brought bread, apples, tidbits and other things for the little children. Some of the girls who had left the ship only the day before, on Saturday, came back dressed in French clothing so that I would not have recognized them, had they not made themselves known.…
Now let me explain how these people were traded off for their debt. Mechanics had to serve from one and a half to two and two and a half years, according to their abilities; peasant families three to three and a half years; girls of 16 to 20 years of age, up to four years; children from 2 to 12 and 15 years of age must remain till their 20th year or more, some of them even for life. During this time they forget their mother tongue as well as their parents, for in such houses nothing but English is spoken. Children from 2 to 15 years of age have been separated from their parents. Some parties have paid off their whole debt for the trip in this way, by surrendering their children. Separated from their parents, these children often never find each other again….33
Henry Bradshaw Fearon, an Englishman, “in company with a boot-maker of this city,” visited the brig Bubona, docked at the wharves of the Delaware River in Philadelphia:
As we ascended the side of this hulk, a most revolting scene of want and misery presented itself. The eye involuntarily turned for some relief from the horrible picture of human suffering.… [The boot-maker] enquired if there were any shoemakers on board. The captain advanced:… He called in the Dutch language for shoemakers, and never can I forget the scene which followed. The poor fellows came running up with unspeakable delight, no doubt anticipating a relief from their loathsome dungeon. Their clothes, if rags deserve that denomination, actually perfumed the air. Some were without shirts, others had this article of dress, but of a quality as coarse as the worst packing cloth. I enquired of several if they could speak English. They smiled, and gabbled, “No Engly, no Engly,—one Engly ‘talk ship.’” The deck was filthy. The cooking, washing, and necessary departments were close together. Such is the mercenary barbarity of the Americans who are engaged in this trade, that they crammed into one of those vessels 500 passengers, 80 of whom died on the passage. The price for women is about 70 dollars, men 80 dollars, boys 60 dollars. When they saw at our departures that we had not purchased, their countenances fell to that standard of stupid gloom which seemed to place them a link below rational beings.34
In the Southern states, redemptioners were in competition with slaves, and as the price of slaves steadily increased over the years, redemptioners were seen by many to be the better bargain. Redemptioners were cheaper—as a rule of thumb, five or six could be purchased for the price of one slave, although it should be kept in mind that the buyer was only getting servitude for a term of years, rather than labor for life. An added advantage was that when redemptioners became ill, or unproductive through injury, they could be released to fend for themselves, while a master was morally and legally obliged to provide for his slaves until their death.*
Louisiana law specifically provided that the redemptioner’s contract of servitude was “equivalent to a sale” and a master could “correct [that is, whip] his indentured servant for negligence or other misbehavior, provided he did so with moderation.” The master, for his part, was obliged to provide the redemptioner with “good and sufficient food, meat, drink, washing, and lodgings.”35
Just as slaves ran away, so did redemptioners, and it was common to see, side by side, newspaper advertisements for their recovery. The following notices, all relating to Germans (very probably brought to New Orleans in Krahnstover’s ships), appeared in the Louisiana Gazette.36
Redemptioners Escaped!
A German family, consisting of a father, whose name is Andreas Thomas, and of a mother and four children, have gone off without serving the time stipulated in their engagements. Notice is hereby given that those who may harbor any individual of the family aforesaid or give them employ, will be prosecuted according to law. A reward will be paid for placing the said Thomas in the hands of the sheriff who has an order to arrest him.
Sixty Dollars Reward
Absconded from the subscriber’s employ on the 6th inst., Four German Redemptioners—they are all young men, well made, and of middle size, and were dressed in Russian sheeting pantaloons, and shirts, red waist-coats and boots.
Ten Dollars reward and all reasonable charges will be paid for their apprehension and also 20 Dollars for John Miller, a sailor who enticed them away. Miller speaks Dutch and broken English, has an impediment in his speech, wears a blue cloth jacket, yellow vest and duck pantaloons, has been in the army and is much addicted to drink.
Captains of vessels and others are cautioned against harboring the above named runaways.
H.W. Palfry
Ten Dollars Reward
Ran away last evening from the subscriber, Two German Redemptioners, namely:
George Stroule, about 28 years of age, 5 feet, 7 inches high, dark complexion and slender make; had on a blue jacket and gray pantaloons with other clothes of the fashion of his country.
Marion Mowry, wife of the said Stroule, about 30 years of age, nearly as
tall as her husband, a little pock marked and dressed in the manner of her country.
The above reward will be paid for securing these redemptioners in jail or bringing them to
Lewis Mageonie,
On the Canal, suburb Marigny
By the end of that first day, the services of more than half of the passengers on Krahnstover’s ships had been sold. Madame Hemm was engaged by a family in Baton Rouge. Mrs. Fleikener, then in her teens, was taken to work as a domestic at the plantation of Maunsell White, one of the capitalist giants of Louisiana and founder of the Improvement Bank. Mistress Schultzeheimer went to look after the master’s children on the Hopkins plantation, just outside New Orleans. Madame Carl became a domestic for a wealthy Creole family in the French Quarter. Dorothy Kirchner, the teenage daughter of Christoph and Salomé Kirchner, went to a plantation three miles downriver from the city.
Those staying on board watched enviously as the people who had been sold readied themselves to depart. There was barely time for farewells—their new masters awaited. As those leaving packed their bags they whispered to their friends the names of the men who had bought them and where they were going—places with strange names: St. Charles, Iberville, Pointe Coupée, New Iberia, Rapides. A few were being taken to states upriver: Mississippi, Arkansas, Missouri. Somehow, they would keep in contact, they promised. Somehow.
Both the Müller brothers were left behind. In a society where blacks did the manual work, shoemakers and locksmiths weren’t in high demand. The future Eva Schuber, then a fifteen-year-old member of the Kropp family, also remained. An open-faced girl with the sturdy stature of a strong worker, she could have been sold ten times over, but her parents refused. They had set their hopes on a purchaser taking the whole family.
The next day, sales weren’t so brisk. The pick of the passengers had been taken, and Krahnstover feared that with so many redemptioners on offer, he had oversupplied the market. Still, purchasers came, and as the days passed, his ships slowly emptied. Each morning the Müller brothers waited with their children on the main deck, and each afternoon they remained unsold. It was an experience of bewildering humiliation. In Langensoultzbach they were valued as skilled tradesmen, yet here in America they were unwanted. They began to wonder how long they would have to remain on board. Under the terms of their redemption contract, the cost of keeping them alive while in port was added to their price, so they were becoming more expensive as each day passed.
At the end of the week, Eva Kropp’s parents, worn down by the prospect of being imprisoned indefinitely, agreed to sell their daughter separately, but at least they were all to remain in New Orleans. Eva was engaged as a domestic to a Creole woman, Madame Borgnette, who ran a boarding school for young ladies in Chartres Street, while her parents took positions in a house in the Faubourg Marigny.
Meanwhile, the immigrants already released into the city complained bitterly to their new masters about the deaths and deprivations aboard Krahnstover’s ships, and the brutality of the crews. As news of their ill-treatment spread, several gentlemen in the German community of New Orleans were so outraged by what had occurred that they engaged counsel to pursue Krahnstover in court. One of those hired was a young lawyer in the city named John Randolph Grymes. In the telling of the story of the Lost German Slave Girl, Grymes reappeared a quarter of a century later to represent the slave owners opposed to Salomé Müller’s bid for freedom. The papers associated with the lawsuit against Krahnstover have been lost and it is difficult to know what happened. However, one thing is clear: Grymes wasn’t able to achieve anything for his clients.* It isn’t apparent why the action fizzled—one would have thought that since half of Krahnstover’s passengers had died during the voyage, there would have been a good chance of successfully suing him for something—but then again, these were more robust times, as this report in the Louisiana Gazette, published a week after the immigrants’ arrival, demonstrates:
German Redemptioners
The public attention has been much occupied the last few days with this description of emigrants that have lately arrived from Amsterdam. The novelty of the circumstance has excited feelings of much interest, and many reports, it is believed, have gone abroad, calculated to make a very unfavorable impression as to the usage of those people on the passage, & their introduction here to servitude. It is always gratifying to see public sympathy enlisted on the side of humanity; & it is the glory of our country that the oppressed and the poor of all nations find in our Land an asylum of protecting justice: but we ought, at the same time guard against any impressions which arise only from our feelings, and are not supported either by the existence of facts, or the intrinsic welfare of the objects of our commiseration. These emigrants have come here under special engagement to redeem the expense of their passage hither by voluntary servitude.… That there are many privations and sufferings incidental to a voyage of this nature, is undeniable; but from the appearance of those people now in our city, we should not conclude that their case has been more than ordinarily so. The servitude they have to submit to here, is not of a grievous kind, and probably will leave them more vitally free than the political institutions of their own country.…37
The deaths of hundreds of immigrants may not have unduly disturbed the citizens of New Orleans, but then it was discovered that Krahnstover had sold several German families to free blacks. This was something to be concerned about. One of the most sacred taboos of the South had been broken—white people had become the servants of those with colored skin. The Louisiana legislature was in session at the time, and so strong was the sense of outrage that within two days of being advised of what had occurred, it had passed legislation undoing the sales. It was declared to be “the duty of the attorney general” to notify the people of color who had engaged white people that such an engagement was contrary to the true intent and meaning of the law. The Act went on: If “free people of color shall refuse or neglect to comply with the said notice, the attorney general shall immediately commence an action against them to have the contract rescinded….”
The legislature also took the opportunity to make some minor amendments to the law relating to redemptioners. There was no general attack on the system; quite the contrary, the revisions confirmed the right to hold immigrants as prisoners until they were sold. It was declared:
That it shall be lawful for the master, owner, or consignee of any vessel importing redemptioners into this state … to keep and detain said redemptioners on board the vessel wherein they were imported, until the price of their passage be paid, or until they be bound to service pursuant to the provisions of this act.
Some remedial provisions were also passed. The legislature gave notice that twelve months after the passing of the act, if any ship arrived in the state with more than “two persons for every three tons of the burthen of such vessels,” or if the passengers had not been “well supplied with good and sufficient meat and drink, particularly fresh water,” the shipowners would forfeit their right to sell the passengers as redemptioners. Another law provided “That when any white persons are imported into this state as redemptioners, it shall be the duty of the Governor … to appoint two or more discreet and suitable persons, well acquainted with the language of such redemptioners to be guardians.” It was the duty of the guardians to board every vessel importing redemptioners and inquire into the contracts they may have made, and whether they had been cruelly treated during the voyage.38
These reforms, having effect only for the future, were of no assistance to the Müller brothers. Every day for two weeks Henry and Daniel stood on the deck of the Juffer Johanna with their children, waiting in vain for someone to purchase them. Every night for two weeks, after the children had gone to sleep, the brothers anxiously discussed their fate. Surely, said Henry, his brother must realize that it was unlikely that they would ever be sold complete as two families. Couldn’t he see that the buyers coming on board were interested only in their children? It had to be faced that the best
they could hope for now was that each of them would be able to keep their children with them.
One day, at the beginning of the third week, Henry returned to the cabin to announce to Daniel that he had had enough. He couldn’t bear the thought of remaining another day on the ship that had taken the lives of his wife and so many of the people from his village. There was a farmer on the deck who would keep the family together, and he was going upstairs to agree to his terms. He begged his brother not to judge him too harshly. There was no other way. He thrust a copy of his new master’s address into his brother’s hands. He was going to Bayou Sara. The farmer had said it wasn’t too distant, just four days sailing up the Mississippi. Henry promised to write as soon as he arrived. They would only be apart for a few years. He took Daniel into a quick embrace and departed.
Carrying everything they possessed, Henry and his three children followed their new master down the gangplank and stepped onto American soil. After all the sacrifices, heartache, and death, they had arrived. This was America, but they were no longer free. Their passage to America had been paid three times—once by themselves, once by the Dutch government, and, finally, by their own servitude.
A week later a man dressed in rags, and clearly ill, rang the bell at the entrance of Madame Borgnette’s school for young ladies in the French Quarter. Peering shyly from behind his legs was a boy and two young girls. The door was opened by the femme de chambre, who, after ascertaining their business, directed them to the scullery, via a lane at the side of the house. There Daniel Müller found Eva Kropp, her sleeves rolled up, scrubbing a large blackened pot. She looked at him in alarm. He was dreadfully thin and black shadows circled his eyes. His shoes were held together with string, the cuffs of his shirt were frayed, and his children were dressed in ill-fitting garments, obviously the gift of some charity. He had good news, he told Eva. They had somewhere to go. He had bound himself and Jacob, Dorothea, and Salomé to work for a wealthy landowner in Attakapas. They were to set sail that afternoon in a keelboat.