One of the most important writers of the 1700s, Olaudah Equiano or Gustavus Vassa (b.c. 1745, Benin or South Carolina, d. 31 March 1797, Westminster) is amongst the earliest and most celebrated of black, ex-slave writers. His The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa, The African, Written By Himself was published days before the British Parliament debated the future of slavery in 1789. Although a cause celebre that ran into multiple editions at the time, Equiano’s remarkable memoir did not hasten anti-slavery legislation at that time, but did influence the passage of the Slave Trade Act (1807) which abolished British slavery. Equiano’s works were forgotten a few decades later, but were re-discovered by scholars in the 1960s and have since returned to their rightful place of prominence in the history of the anti-slavery movement and eighteenth-century literature. Equiano is a significant figure in the illustrious history of black writing, whose life demonstrates that Britain’s black history long pre-dates the 1950s, and he is also one of the key figures in Portsmouth’s often overlooked black history.

Controversy continues to surround Equiano’s early life, some scholars turning to official records to challenge his account in the Interesting Narrative of his birth and childhood in ‘Igboland’ (modern Benin) and suggesting a Carolina upbringing. Be this as it may, the memoir offers a vivid, authentic, and compelling account of his enslavement, the painful experiences of slavery, and his gradual advancement to the status of Freeman in 1766, as well as his ongoing quest to find salvation through Christianity. Equiano’s account demonstrates that experiences of slavery were complex and varied, and that as well as enslavement in plantations in North America, slaves were coerced into many different roles.

The memoir sets a pattern for later examples of the slave narrative genre in its focus on individual suffering, its critique of the institutions of slavery, and in its argument that slavery is not simply unethical and degrading to slaver and slave alike, but also in its focus on the redemptive power of language and literacy. Readers of Harriet Jacobs, Frederick Douglass, and other mid-century American anti-abolitionists may recognise the influence of predecessors like Equiano and Ukawsaw Gronniosaw (who also appears on this literary map).

After detailing a long and fascinating life, much of it spent at sea in the Royal Navy (including extensive service in the Seven Years War and on merchant ships, Equiano’s final chapters turn to his later years in London (a city in which he lived at various points throughout his life), during which time he became Britain’s first black civil servant, in charge of an ill-fated project to re-settle freed slaves in Sierra Leone: he was dismissed for whistleblowing about the corruption and mismanagement of its agents. Three years after publishing his autobiography, Equiano married the Englishwoman, Susanna Cullen, by whom he had two daughters. He died before seeing the nineteenth century, although he had a profound impact on its history.

Equiano says less about Portsmouth than Gronniosaw, but it is clear that as a sailor he visited the city several times. In Volume 1, Chapter 3, he refers to returning to Portsmouth after a Royal Navy tour of duty around 1756, and in 1759, after seeing further action in Canada, his ship returned to Portsmouth for refitting. Two years later, serving in intense battles on the illustrious HMS Namur, Equiano returned to Portsmouth on HMS Aetna for further refitting, after which he visited the Isle of Wight, recalling that ‘I spent my time very pleasantly; I was much on shore all about this delightful island, and found the inhabitants very civil’ (Volume 1, Chapter 4). The Aetna returned to Portsmouth in 1762 where, on hearing of the end of the war in early 1763, Equiano expected his master to fulfil a promise to free him, only to find that he would be sold again. The following extracts, from Volume 1, Chapters 4 and 5 relate these events, and gives a poignant sense of Equiano’s feelings when in (distant) sight of Gosport and Portsmouth, off the Mother Bank in the Solent, but unable to reach shore and achieve freedom:

‘In pursuance of our orders we sailed from Portsmouth for the Thames, and arrived at Deptford the 10th of December, where we cast anchor just as it was in high water. The ship was up about half an hour, when my master ordered the barge to be manned; and all in an instant, without having before given me the least reason to suspect any thing of the matter, he forced me into the barge; saying, I was going to leave him, but he would take care that I should not. I was so struck with the unexpectedness of this proceeding, that for some time I did not make a reply, only I made an offer to go for my books and chest of clothes, but he swore I should not move out of his sight; and if I did he would cut my throat […] I began, however, to collect myself; and, plucking up courage, I told him I was free, and he could not by law serve me so. But this only enraged him the more; and he continued to swear, and said he would soon let me know whether he would or not, and at that instant sprung himself into the barge from the ship, to the astonishment and sorrow of all on board. The tide, rather unluckily for me, had just turned downward, so that we quickly fell down the river along with it, till we came among some outward-bound West-Indiamen; for he was resolved to put me on board the first vessel he could get to receive me. The boat’s crew, who pulled against their will, became quite faint different times, and would have gone ashore; but he would not let them. Some of them strove then to cheer me, and told me he could not sell me, and that they would stand by me, which revived me a little; and I still entertained hopes; for as they pulled along he asked some vessels to receive me, but they could not. But, just as we had got a little below Gravesend, we came alongside of a ship which was going away the next tide for the West Indies; her name was the Charming Sally, Captain James Doran; and my master went on board and agreed with him for me; and in a little time I was sent for into the cabin. When I came there Captain Doran asked me if I knew him; I answered that I did not; ‘Then,’ said he, ‘you are now my slave.’ I told him my master could not sell me to him, nor to any one else. ‘Why,’ said he, ‘did not your master buy you?’ I confessed he did. ‘But I have served him,’ said I, ‘many years, and he has taken all my wages and prize-money, for I only got one sixpence during the war; besides this I have been baptized; and by the laws of the land no man has a right to sell me;’ And I added, that I had heard a lawyer and others at different times tell my master so. They both then said that those people who told me so were not my friends; but I replied – it was very extraordinary that other people did not know the law as well as they. Upon this Captain Doran said I talked too much English; and if I did not behave myself well, and be quiet, he had a method on board to make me. I was too well convinced of his power over me to doubt what he said; and my former sufferings in the slave-ship presenting themselves to my mind, the recollection of them made me shudder. However, before I retired I told them that as I could not get any right among men here I hoped I should hereafter in Heaven; and I immediately left the cabin, filled with resentment and sorrow. The only coat I had with me my master took away with him, and said if my prize-money had been 10,000 l. he had a right to it all, and would have taken it. I had about nine guineas, which, during my long sea-faring life, I had scraped together from trifling perquisites and little ventures; and I hid it that instant, lest my master should take that from me likewise, still hoping that by some means or other I should make my escape to the shore; and indeed some of my old shipmates told me not to despair, for they would get me back again; and that, as soon as they could get their pay, they would immediately come to Portsmouth to me, where this ship was going: but, alas! all my hopes were baffled, and the hour of my deliverance was yet far off. My master, having soon concluded his bargain with the Captain, came out of the cabin, and he and his people got into the boat and put off; I followed them with aching eyes as long as I could and when they were out of sight, I threw myself on the deck, while my heart was ready to burst with sorrow and anguish. […] The next tide the ship got under way, and soon after arrived at the Mother Bank, Portsmouth; where she waited for a few days for some of the West India convoy. While I was here I tried every means I could devise amongst the people of the ship to get me a boat from the shore, as there was none suffered to come alongside of the ship; and their own, whenever it was used, was hoisted in again immediately. A sailor on board took a guinea from me on pretence of getting me a boat; and promised me, time after time, that it was hourly to come off. When he had the watch upon deck, I watched also; and looked long enough, but all in vain; I could never see either the boat or my guinea again. And what I thought was still the worst of all, the fellow gave information, as I afterwards found, all the while to the mates, of my intention to go off, if I could in any way do it; but, rogue like, he never told them he had got a guinea from me to procure my escape. However, after we had sailed, and his trick was made known to the ship’s crew, I had some satisfaction in seeing him detested and despised by them all for his behaviour to me. I was still in hopes that my old shipmates would not forget their promise to come for me to Portsmouth; and indeed, at last, but not till the day before we sailed, some of them did come there, and sent me off some oranges, and other tokens of their regard. They also sent me word they would come off to me themselves the next day or the day after; and a lady also, who lived in Gosport, wrote to me that she would come and take me out of the ship at the same time, This lady had been once very intimate with my former master: I used to sell and take care of a great deal of property for her, in different ships; and in return she always shewed great friendship for me, and used to tell my master that she would take me away to live with her: but, unfortunately for me, a disagreement soon afterwards took place between them; and she was succeeded in my master’s good graces by another lady, who appeared sole mistress of the Aetna […]

The next morning, the 30th of December, the wind being brisk and easterly, the Oelus frigate, which was to escort the convoy, made a signal for sailing. All the ships then got up their anchors; and before any of my friends had an opportunity to come off to my relief, to my inexpressible anguish our ship got under way. What tumultuous emotions agitated my soul when the convoy got under sail, and I a prisoner on board, now without hope!’

Free online editions of Equiano’s work are available online but there are also several scholarly editions which include valuable introductions, timelines, notes, and guides the Oxford Classic edition is particularly good.

If you have any comments, corrections, or suggestions about the map entries please contact the Map Director Dr Mark Frost, English Literature Department, University of Portsmouth: mark.frost@port.ac.uk