In Liverpool—and I understand that the same practice prevails at Bristol—when they have signed articles, they get a note for their advance-money, not payable till they are out at sea, and till a list of the crew is brought back by the pilot. Now, to negotiate this bill, which is to pay their debts, and to furnish themselves with a few clothes, and a little modicum of liquor, they are obliged to make a will, and power of attorney, in favour of their rapacious landlady. The third mate of the vessel I sailed in—poor _Russel_!—and myself, were obliged to give into this practice. Without any idea of debt, and far from any of those hired dens I have mentioned, but rather reputably lodged in what they called a coffee-house, we found it absolutely necessary, in order to live with any degree of ease and comfort, to make wills in favour of our landlady: it was expected as a thing of course, and was impossible to be avoided moderately. Her brewer, a man of credit, was the witness and leader of the business and seemed to consider it as an essential consequence of the voyage. It is true, we cancelled them soon by new ones: but this may serve to shew the prevalency of the practice, and may help to exhibit to the public, the disinterested characters of that numerous body of men, women, and children, who have with such cogent arguments signed the Liverpool petition against the abolition of the Slave Trade:—those whip-cord spinners, those chain-forgers, those heirs and legatees, deriving inheritance from the cruelty, murder, and injustice of a Guinea voyage. LETTER III. Till the vessel gets clear of the channel—till there is no probability that contrary winds or inclemency of weather will drive her back into an English port, the usage of the seamen is moderate, and their allowance of provisions sufficient: in short, the conduct of the Captain and officers appears like that which is the _continual_ practice in every other employ. But as soon as they are fairly out at sea, and there is no moral possibility of desertion, or application for justice, then the scene is shifted. Their ratio of provisions is shortened to the very verge of famine; their allowance of water lessened to the extreme of existence; nothing but incessant labour, a burning climate, unremitting cruelty, and every species of oppression is before them. This no exaggerated language, nor is it the picture but of one particular case: every one I have ever spoken with, that was qualified to answer on the subject (and there should be little account made of any other) has declared that the usage was alike, with but a few exceptions. What I saw and felt myself, I have a right to declare; and I think it may be assumed as the average medium of the general conduct of the African employ; for I have heard of very many instances of greater cruelty and destruction; and a few where the usage has been better.