From the pier, the people could hear faint sounds of chanting. One person stopped to listen then another, then another. Soon, they were all listening to the chant.
“It’s coming from the ship.”
Suddenly, the cracking explosions of gunfire could be heard from the ship. The once jubilant crowd was now deathly silent. the sounds of gun fire continued to crack through the silence.
The ship continued towards the pier.

Once the Tender opened the trap door, all hell broke loose aboard the “Good Queen.” From below the decks, monstrously large Black men sprang forth with deadly intent. The First Tender was struck in the throat with a piece of plank. As the blood sprayed from the neck of the dying Tender, the other attempted to retreat, but it was a futile attempt, a dozen Black men was upon him like a pack of hungry lions. His screams were nearly instantly muffled as he gurgled on his own blood.
From the upper decks the deckhands saw the carnage and made haste to make ready for a mutiny. The ship’s first officer drew his weapon firing at the first of the mob that was within range. His shot was true, striking the African directly in the head killing him instantly. But the second and third African were upon the First Officer before he could pull back the hammer of the Colt .45. within moments the deckhands had armed themselves and were taking up position.
What none of the shipmates understood was that none of the Africans planned to survive through the day, that before the ship would touch land, every soul aboard the Good Queen would die. The men moved in coordinated packs keeping close together and as a man fell to his death from the volley of shots being fired almost directly upon them, they closed the circle tighter, as they were almost upon the deckhands, the African women sprang forth from the ship’s hold as the second wave of the attack. The deckhands saw this and in unison, realized that they had no chance of quelling the mutiny. One man dropped his pistol and turned to abandon ship, but before he could brace himself to jump, he was caught by his shirt while yet another African impaled him with a sword. The man was then allowed to fall to the water to his shallow grave.
From the third deck, the Captain burst from his quarters shouting profanities at the African. The Captain was a man of large statue, but his obesity would do him no justice today, as one African approached, his hands and face bloodied from the kills of the ship’s mates, the Captain drew one of his service revolvers, another African attempted to overthrow the Captain, but was met with the second barrel of the other revolver. The sound was thunderous as it shattered through the heart of the would-be slave. The third African’s aim was as true as the Captain’s, as he took direct aim at the Captain’s head and fired squarely at it. The Captain fell back straightway on his back, his mouth agape as the blood freely flowed from his lifeless body.
Some of the other Africans had already prepared the ship for its final moments. The powder kegs were rolled unto the deck and fires were lit and thrown about the cabins. The smoke began to billow out of the cabin and quarterdeck.
From the shore, the Jamestown citizens watched in disbelief. White man after white man was thrown overboard and none tried to swim away. Every man merely floated alongside the Good Queen.
As the ship neared the port it was obvious no one was controlling the approach. The fire was now raging from the port windows as the killings continued. Some of the white men had banded together and were putting up a right resistance against the savages, but it was all futile, the Africans, ready to die, wanting only to take a white man with him to death pressed on with fervor. Any weapon dropped was picked up by the African and used to against the white man. From the aft section of the ship, a thunderous explosion caused everyone to fall and or attempt to catch their footing.
On land, the crowd gasped with surprise from the explosion. The women in the crowds held their hands against their ears and cried aloud. The men all pointed and whispered to each other unable and unwilling to do anything for the doomed men aboard the ship. Suddenly a second and then a third explosion the ship was already destroyed, but it was the fourth and final explosion, that sent the ship in all directions leaving only burning debris and bodies strewn across the bay.
As quick as it began, it was over. The ship was so decimated; there was nothing left recognizable or identifiable. It was as if there hadn’t even been a ship there only moments ago. But as the bodies washed ashore and the murky waters turned red from the blood of the dead, it was apparent that something had just happened.
No one survived the arrival of the Good Queen, not even the Good Queen. The brokers and the slave owners all turned and went home, as the local ship tenders pulled the bodies and debris from the shore.
The bodies of the Africans were buried in a common hole and covered with lime before the earth was shoveled back over them.
The white men were given Christian burials and the day was remembered as the 1730 Hallowed Night Massacre.