The Atlantic's place in religious history is as a passage rather than a place, and the most consequential thing it carried was a population that arrived with nothing but what it could remember.
Between the sixteenth and the nineteenth centuries something over twelve million people were shipped from West and West Central Africa to the Americas. They travelled without their shrines, their ritual objects, their lineages or, in most cases, their priests, and they arrived among people from other regions speaking other languages. What could be rebuilt on the far side had to be rebuilt from memory, in company, under conditions designed to prevent exactly that.
It was rebuilt. Candomble in Brazil, Santeria or Lucumi in Cuba, Vodou in Haiti, Winti in Suriname, Obeah and Myal in the anglophone Caribbean, and the conjure traditions of the southern United States all descend from that reassembly, and each preserves an identifiable weighting of origins: Yoruba practice heaviest where Yoruba captives arrived latest and in greatest numbers, Fon and Ewe in Haiti, Kongo widely.
Catholic baptism was required in the Spanish and Portuguese colonies and the saints supplied a second vocabulary that allowed practice to continue in plain sight. Whether that identification was camouflage, genuine devotion or both at once is argued by practitioners as well as scholars, and the answer differs by place and by generation.