and it came in quantities far 
in excess of any possible demand from the colonial sweet tooth. But it 
could be made into rum, and in those days rum was held an innocent 
beverage, dispensed like water at all formal gatherings, and used as a 
matter of course in the harvest fields, the shop, and on the deck at sea. 
Moreover, it had been found to have a special value as currency on the 
west coast of Africa. The negro savages manifested a more than 
civilized taste for it, and were ready to sell their enemies or their 
friends, their sons, fathers, wives, or daughters into slavery in exchange 
for the fiery fluid. So all New England set to turning the good molasses 
into fiery rum, and while the slave trade throve abroad the rum trade 
prospered at home. 
Of course the rapid advance of the colonies in shipbuilding and in 
maritime trade was not regarded in England with unqualified pride. The 
theory of that day--and one not yet wholly abandoned--was that a 
colony was a mine, to be worked for the sole benefit of the mother 
country. It was to buy its goods in no other market. It was to use the 
ships of the home government alone for its trade across seas. It must 
not presume to manufacture for itself articles which merchants at home 
desired to sell. England early strove to impress such trade regulations 
upon the American colonies, and succeeded in embarrassing and 
handicapping them seriously, although evasions of the navigation laws 
were notorious, and were winked at by the officers of the crown. The 
restrictions were sufficiently burdensome, however, to make the 
ship-owners and sailors of 1770 among those most ready and eager for 
the revolt against the king. 
The close of the Revolution found American shipping in a reasonably 
prosperous condition. It is true that the peaceful vocation of the seamen 
had been interrupted, all access to British ports denied them, and their 
voyages to Continental markets had for six years been attended by the 
ever-present risk of capture and condemnation. But on the other hand, 
the war had opened the way for privateering, and out of the ports of 
Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Connecticut the privateers swarmed
like swallows from a chimney at dawn. To the adventurous and not 
over-scrupulous men who followed it, privateering was a congenial 
pursuit--so much so, unhappily, that when the war ended, and a treaty 
robbed their calling of its guise of lawfulness, too many of them still 
continued it, braving the penalties of piracy for the sake of its gains. 
But during the period of the Revolution privateering did the struggling 
young nation two services--it sorely harassed the enemy, and it kept 
alive the seafaring zeal and skill of the New Englanders. 
For a time it seemed that not all this zeal and skill could replace the 
maritime interests where they were when the Revolution began. For 
most people in the colonies independence meant a broader scope of 
activity--to the shipowner and sailor it meant new and serious 
limitations. England was still engaged in the effort to monopolize 
ocean traffic by the operation of tariffs and navigation laws. New 
England having become a foreign nation, her ships were denied 
admittance to the ports of the British West Indies, with which for years 
a nourishing trade had been conducted. Lumber, corn, fish, live stock, 
and farm produce had been sent to the islands, and coffee, sugar, cotton, 
rum, and indigo brought back. This commerce, which had come to 
equal £3,500,000 a year, was shut off by the British after American 
independence, despite the protest of Pitt, who saw clearly that the West 
Indians would suffer even more than the Americans. Time showed his 
wisdom. Terrible sufferings came upon the West Indies for lack of the 
supplies they had been accustomed to import, and between 1780 and 
1787 as many as 15,000 slaves perished from starvation. 
Another cause held the American merchant marine in check for several 
years succeeding the declaration of peace. If there be one interest which 
must have behind it a well-organized, coherent national government, 
able to protect it and to enforce its rights in foreign lands, it is the 
shipping interest. But American ships, after the Treaty of Paris, hailed 
from thirteen independent but puny States. They had behind them the 
shadow of a confederacy, but no substance. The flags they carried were 
not only not respected in foreign countries--they were not known. 
Moreover, the States were jealous of each other, possessing no true 
community of interest, and each seeking advantage at the expense of its
neighbors. They were already beginning to adopt among themselves the 
very tactics of harassing and crippling navigation laws which caused 
the protest against Great Britain. This "Critical Period of American 
History,"    
    
		
	
	
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