Letters

Pyrrhus Concer here. As a devoted Christian, I religiously found my way to the Presbyterian Church, where I was always welcomed, every Sunday to pray. God answered my prayers. Can you believe this born-enslaved man sailed across the seas and became a hero? Okay, this is the story.

Fast-forward, I’m 29 years old. Mercator, my mom’s slave owner’s son, who is 10 years older than me, agreed to trust me to assist him as his ship steerer, one of the most important positions on the whaling ship. Mercator made it perfectly clear that this would be a very long and risky journey.

The ship, called the Manhattan, set off from the whaling port in Sag Harbor in early November 1843. It was well-known by this time that New Bedford was the wealthiest port in the whaling industry, and the bowhead whale was a very fat whale with thick blubber and baleen plates up to 13 feet long. The stocks of this whale in Arctic waters had never been commercially exploited, and hunting it was dangerous work in icy seas. It was do or die.

We took to the seas with about three to four years of provisions on board. Two years later, we were the first authorized American ship to visit Tokyo Bay. We took a short break to hunt for turtles to supplement our provisions, and we noticed two wrecked Japanese ships with several Japanese sailors in desperate need for help.

The Japanese normally wanted to avoid contact with outsiders, so a few of the survivors took a Japanese boat with a message that we wanted to deliver the remainder to the harbor. We finally got permission to come in.

I was so excited I began to sing God’s praises. About 300 Japanese boats with about 15 men in each took the ship in tow. They took all our arms out to keep till we left.

There were several officials who came on board to see the ship. They appeared very friendly. But when they saw me, their eyes got big as saucers and, they started approaching me. Obviously not sure what the heck they were saying — but I was not afraid. God was with us.

They just wanted to touch and rub my skin. I guess they thought I was dirty and maybe needed a shower. But I stood tall, and they finally understood that I was maybe a little smelly, but this was the first handsome Black man they had ever seen.

They thanked us for returning the shipwrecked sailors, gave us lots of provisions and gifts, and kindly told us never to return. So we headed back for our long journey home.

Brenda Simmons

Southampton