The improbable voyage of the schooner Amistad and the court proceedings and diplomatic maneuverings that resulted from that voyage form one of the most significant stories of the nineteenth century. When Steven Spielberg chose the Amistad case as the subject of his 1997 feature film （LINK TO REVIEWS）， he finally brought it the attention the case had long deserved， but never received. The Amistad case energized the fledgling abolitionist movement and intensified conflict over slavery， prompted a former President to go before the Supreme Court and condemn the policies of a present Administration， soured diplomatic relations between the United States and Spain for a generation， and created a wave of interest in sending Christian missionaries to Africa.

　　Two sea captains， Peletiah Fordham and Henry Green， were shooting birds among the dunes at the eastern tip of Long Island on the morning of August 26， 1839， when they were startled to encounter four black men wearing only blankets. Once the blacks were assured through sign language that they were not in slaveholding country， they led Fordham and Green to a point in the dunes where they could see a black schooner， flagless with its sails in tatters， sitting at anchor a mile or so from the beach. Another smaller boat was on the beach， guarded by more black men， many of whom were wearing necklaces and bracelets of gold doubloons. One of the black men， who appeared to be the leader of the group， told Fordham and Green that there were two trunks full of gold aboard the schooner， and that they would be given to whoever outfitted them with provisions and helped them sail back to their African homeland. Green suggested that if they got the trunks he would help them return to Africa.

　　Green's and Fordham's dreams of riches were interrupted by a brig of the U. S. Coast Guard， the Washington， which intercepted the rowboat as it made its way back to the schooner. The commander of the brig， Lieutenant Thomas Gedney， boarded the schooner and ordered， at gunpoint， all hands below the deck. Two Spaniards emerged from below. One was old， bearded， and sobbing. The other was a man in his mid-twenties. Jose Ruiz， the younger man， spoke English and eagerly began to tell the tale of mutiny， blood， deceit， and desperation aboard the Amistad.

　　The schooner had left Havana on June 28， bound for Puerto Principe， a Cuban coastal town. Aboard the Amistad were five whites， a mulatto cook， a black cabin boy， and fifty-three slaves. Ruiz had bought forty-nine adult male slaves at the Havana market. The older， bearded white， Pedro Montes， had bought four child slaves， including three girls. On the fourth night at sea， the slaves managed to free themselves from their irons. In the ensuing struggle， the Africans killed the captain， Ramon Ferrer， and a mulatto cook. （According to the story later told by the Africans， the mulatto cook had told the slaves that they would be chopped to pieces and salted as meat for the Spaniards when the ship arrived at its destination.） Two crewman abandoned ship in the stern boat. Montes and Ruiz were spared， apparently because their help was thought necessary in steering the ship to Africa. Montes sailed toward Africa， but slowly and only during the day. At night， he reversed course and headed due west， hoping to landfall in the southern United States. After six weeks of zig-zagging at sea， the Amistad arrived in New York.

　　（What Ruiz did not say was that the slaves were were recently brought from Africa and brought to Cuba in direct contravention of an 1817 treaty between Spain and Britain prohibiting the importation of slaves to Spanish colonies. Using falsified passports， corrupt officials， and nighttime landings， slave traders often were successful in eluding the British ships that patrolled waters in an effort to enforce the importation ban.）

　　As Ruiz told his story， an athletic-looking black man， naked except for a gold necklace， suddenly appeared from below and leaped off the boat. The Washington gave chase， but the man was a strong swimmer， constantly diving as the ship neared. Tiring， the man took off his necklace， letting it——to the dismay of Gedney——fall to the bottom of the sea. Finally， crew members recaptured the black man， later known as Cinque， and put him into chains. The Amistad was towed to New London， Connecticut， where its arrival would dominate the news for weeks to come.

　　The United States Attorney for Connecticut， William S. Holabird， ordered a judicial hearing on the Washington. It was unclear to Holabird， as it was to many， whether a crime had been committed， who had committed it， or whether U. S. courts even had jurisdiction. There was also the matter of salvage rights， which were claimed by Gedney and the Washington crew. The Amistad's cargo of wine， saddles， gold， and silk was worth an estimated $40，000 in 1839 dollars， and the slaves had a market value of at least half that much.

　　The district judge for Connecticut was Andrew T. Judson， an appointee of then President Martin Van Buren. Judson was not likely to sympathize with the Africans， having six years earlier prosecuted a Connecticut schoolmistress for establishing a school for Negroes that Judson claimed violated a state law against encouraging black migration. （When the jury was unable to reach a verdict in the case， a mob set fire to the schoolmistress's house.）

　　On August 29， 1839， three days after the schooner's discovery， Judge Judson opened a hearing on complaints of murder and piracy filed by Montes and Ruiz. Thirty-nine Africans （of the forty-three who had survived the weeks at sea） were present， including Cinque， who appeared wearing a red flannel shirt， white duck pants， and manacles. He appeared calm and mute， occasionally making a motion with his hand to his throat to suggest a hanging.

　　The three principal witnesses at the hearing were the first mate of the Washington and Montes and Ruiz. The first mate described what happened when the Amistad was first boarded. Montes and Ruiz described the mutiny and subsequent weeks at sea. Ruiz testified：

　　"I took an oar and tried to quell the mutiny. I cried 'No！ No！。' I then heard one of the crew cry murder. I then heard the captain order the cabin boy to go below and get some bread to throw among the negroes， hoping to pacify them. I did not see the captain killed."

　　Montes added his description of events on the fourth night at sea：

　　"Between three and four was awakened by a noise which was caused by blows to the mulatto cook. I went on deck and they attacked me. I seized a stick and a knife with a view to defend myself……At this time [Cinque] wounded me on the head severely with one of the sugar knives， also on the arm. I then ran below and stowed myself between two barrels， wrapped up in a sail. [Cinque] rushed after me and attempted to kill me， but was prevented by the interference of another man……I was then taken on deck and tied to the hand of Ruiz."

　　After listening to the testimony， Judge Judson referred the case for trial in Circuit Court， where in 1839 all federal criminal trials were held， and ordered the Africans put into custody at the county jail in New Haven. The Amistads became a huge attraction. As many as 5，000 people a day visited the jail. The jailer charged "one New York shilling" （about twelve cents） for close looks at the captives. The Africans also attracted scientific interest. A phrenologist examined the captives and took "life masks" which were later put on public display. The New Haven jail was relatively loose. Jailers took the children， "robust" and "full of hilarity，" on wagon rides. The adults were allowed daily exercise on New Haven's green， where their cavorting， somersaults， and acrobatic leaps surprised residents unaccustomed to such public displays of exuberance.

　　For most New Englanders the Amistads were a curiosity. For a small， but growing， group of abolitionists， however， they were a cause and an opportunity. Abolitionist leaderLewis Tappan described the capture of the Africans as a "providential occurrence" that might allow "the heart of the nation" to be touched "through the power of sympathy." The "Amistad Committee" was quickly formed and soon the group had enlisted legal help， including that of Roger Baldwin， who would later become the governor of Connecticut.

　　Spain， meanwhile， pressed the United States to return the schooner to its Cuban owners， concede that the U. S. courts had no jurisdiction over Spanish subjects， and return the Amistads to Havana. The Van Buren Administration was anxious to comply with the Spanish demands， but there was this matter of due process of law. The Administration， through District Attorney Holabird， crafted legal arguments that it hoped would produce the results sought by Spain.

　　On September 14， 1939， the Amistads were sent by canal boat and stage to Hartford for their trial in the Circuit courtroom of Judge Smith Thompson， who also served （as was then the custom for Circuit Court judges） as a justice on the United States Supreme Court. Holabird asked the court to turn all the prisoners over to the President and to let him decide this matter that bore heavily on the relations between great powers. Baldwin， for the defense， argued that "no power on earth has the right to reduce [the Africans] to slavery" and the United States should never stoop so low as to become a "slave-catcher for foreign slave-holders." Judge Thompson preferred to evade the larger debate over abolition and rested