Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl, Written by Herself
bear a little longer. Things may turn out better than we expect.”
My courage failed me, in view of the sorrow I should bring on that
faithful, loving old heart. I promised that I would try longer, and
that I would take nothing out of her house without her knowledge.
Whenever the children climbed on my knee, or laid their heads on my
lap, she would say, “Poor little souls! what would you do without a
mother? She don’t love you as I do.” And she would hug them to her own
bosom, as if to reproach me for my want of affection; but she knew all
the while that I loved them better than my life. I slept with her that
night, and it was the last time. The memory of it haunted me for many a
year.
On Monday I returned to the plantation, and busied myself with
preparations for the important day. Wednesday came. It was a beautiful
day, and the faces of the slaves were as bright as the sunshine. The
poor creatures were merry. They were expecting little presents from the
bride, and hoping for better times under her administration. I had no
such hopes for them. I knew that the young wives of slaveholders often
thought their authority and importance would be best established and
maintained by cruelty; and what I had heard of young Mrs. Flint gave
me no reason to expect that her rule over them would be less severe
than that of the master and overseer. Truly, the colored race are the
most cheerful and forgiving people on the face of the earth. That their
masters sleep in safety is owing to their superabundance of heart; and
yet they look upon their sufferings with less pity than they would
bestow on those of a horse or a dog.
I stood at the door with others to receive the bridegroom and bride.
She was a handsome, delicate-looking girl, and her face flushed with
emotion at sight of her new home. I thought it likely that visions of
a happy future were rising before her. It made me sad; for I knew how
soon clouds would come over her sunshine. She examined every part of
the house, and told me she was delighted with the arrangements I had
made. I was afraid old Mrs. Flint had tried to prejudice her against
me, and I did my best to please her.
All passed off smoothly for me until dinner time arrived. I did not
mind the embarrassment of waiting on a dinner party, for the first time
in my life, half so much as I did the meeting with Dr. Flint and his
wife, who would be among the guests. It was a mystery to me why Mrs.
Flint had not made her appearance at the plantation during all the time
I was putting the house in order. I had not met her, face to face, for
five years, and I had no wish to see her now. She was a praying woman,
and, doubtless, considered my present position a special answer to her
prayers. Nothing could please her better than to see me humbled and
trampled upon. I was just where she would have me—in the power of a
hard, unprincipled master. She did not speak to me when she took her
seat at table; but her satisfied, triumphant smile, when I handed her
plate, was more eloquent than words. The old doctor was not so quiet
in his demonstrations. He ordered me here and there, and spoke with
peculiar emphasis when he said “your _mistress_.” I was drilled like a
disgraced soldier. When all was over, and the last key turned, I sought
my pillow, thankful that God had appointed a season of rest for the
weary.
The next day my new mistress began her housekeeping. I was not exactly
appointed maid of all work; but I was to do whatever I was told.
Monday evening came. It was always a busy time. On that night the
slaves received their weekly allowance of food. Three pounds of meat,
a peck of corn, and perhaps a dozen herring were allowed to each man.
Women received a pound and a half of meat, a peck of corn, and the
same number of herring. Children over twelve years old had half the
allowance of the women. The meat was cut and weighed by the foreman of
the field hands, and piled on planks before the meat house. Then the
second foreman went behind the building, and when the first foreman
called out, “Who takes this piece of meat?” he answered by calling
somebody’s name. This method was resorted to as a means of preventing
partiality in distributing the meat. The young mistress came out to see
how things were done on her plantation, and she soon gave a specimen of
her character. Among those in waiting for their allowance was a very
old slave, who had faithfully served the Flint family through three
generations. When he hobbled up to get his bit of meat, the mistress
said he was too old to have any allowance; that when niggers were too
old to work, they ought to be fed on grass. Poor old man! He suffered
much before he found rest in the grave.
My mistress and I got along very well together. At the end of a week,
old Mrs. Flint made us another visit, and was closeted a long time
with her daughter-in-law. I had my suspicions what was the subject of
the conference. The old doctor’s wife had been informed that I could
leave the plantation on one condition, and she was very desirous to
keep me there. If she had trusted me, as I deserved to be trusted by
her, she would have had no fears of my accepting that condition. When
she entered her carriage to return home, she said to young Mrs. Flint,
“Don’t neglect to send for them as quick as possible.” My heart was on
the watch all the time, and I at once concluded that she spoke of my
children. The doctor came the next day, and as I entered the room to
spread the tea table, I heard him say, “Don’t wait any longer. Send for
them to-morrow.” I saw through the plan. They thought my children’s
being there would fetter me to the spot, and that it was a good place
to break us all in to abject submission to our lot as slaves. After the
doctor left, a gentleman called, who had always manifested friendly
feelings towards my grandmother and her family. Mr. Flint carried him
over the plantation to show him the results of labor performed by men
and women who were unpaid, miserably clothed, and half famished. The
cotton crop was all they thought of. It was duly admired, and the
gentleman returned with specimens to show his friends. I was ordered
to carry water to wash his hands. As I did so, he said, “Linda, how do
you like your new home?” I told him I liked it as well as I expected.
He replied, “They don’t think you are contented, and to-morrow they are
going to bring your children to be with you. I am sorry for you, Linda.
I hope they will treat you kindly.” I hurried from the room, unable to
thank him. My suspicions were correct. My children were to be brought
to the plantation to be “broke in.”
To this day I feel grateful to the gentleman who gave me this timely
information. It nerved me to immediate action.
XVII. The Flight.
Mr. Flint was hard pushed for house servants, and rather than lose me
he had restrained his malice. I did my work faithfully, though not, of
course, with a willing mind. They were evidently afraid I should leave
them. Mr. Flint wished that I should sleep in the great house instead
of the servants’ quarters. His wife agreed to the proposition, but
said I mustn’t bring my bed into the house, because it would scatter
feathers on her carpet. I knew when I went there that they would never
think of such a thing as furnishing a bed of any kind for me and my
little one. I therefore carried my own bed, and now I was forbidden to
use it. I did as I was ordered. But now that I was certain my children
were to be put in their power, in order to give them a stronger hold
on me, I resolved to leave them that night. I remembered the grief
this step would bring upon my dear old grandmother; and nothing less
than the freedom of my children would have induced me to disregard her
advice. I went about my evening work with trembling steps. Mr. Flint
twice called from his chamber door to inquire why the house was not
locked up. I replied that I had not done my work. “You have had time
enough to do it,” said he. “Take care how you answer me!”
I shut all the windows, locked all the doors, and went up to the third
story, to wait till midnight. How long those hours seemed, and how
fervently I prayed that God would not forsake me in this hour of utmost
need! I was about to risk every thing on the throw of a die; and if I
failed, O what would become of me and my poor children? They would be
made to suffer for my fault.
At half past twelve I stole softly down stairs. I stopped on the second
floor, thinking I heard a noise. I felt my way down into the parlor,
and looked out of the window. The night was so intensely dark that I
could see nothing. I raised the window very softly and jumped out.
Large drops of rain were falling, and the darkness bewildered me. I
dropped on my knees, and breathed a short prayer to God for guidance
and protection. I groped my way to the road, and rushed towards the
town with almost lightning speed. I arrived at my grandmother’s house,
but dared not see her. She would say, “Linda, you are killing me;”
and I knew that would unnerve me. I tapped softly at the window of a
room, occupied by a woman, who had lived in the house several years. I
knew she was a faithful friend, and could be trusted with my secret.
I tapped several times before she heard me. At last she raised the
window, and I whispered, “Sally, I have run away. Let me in, quick.”
She opened the door softly, and said in low tones, “For God’s sake,
don’t. Your grandmother is trying to buy you and de chillern. Mr. Sands
was here last week. He tole her he was going away on business, but he
wanted her to go ahead about buying you and de chillern, and he would
help her all he could. Don’t run away, Linda. Your grandmother is all
bowed down wid trouble now.”
I replied, “Sally, they are going to carry my children to the
plantation to-morrow; and they will never sell them to any body so long
as they have me in their power. Now, would you advise me to go back?”
“No, chile, no,” answered she. “When dey finds you is gone, dey won’t
want de plague ob de chillern; but where is you going to hide? Dey
knows ebery inch ob dis house.”
I told her I had a hiding-place, and that was all it was best for her
to know. I asked her to go into my room as soon as it was light, and
take all my clothes out of my trunk, and pack them in hers; for I knew
Mr. Flint and the constable would be there early to search my room. I
feared the sight of my children would be too much for my full heart;
but I could not go out into the uncertain future without one last look.
I bent over the bed where lay my little Benny and baby Ellen. Poor
little ones! fatherless and motherless! Memories of their father came
over me. He wanted to be kind to them; but they were not all to him,
as they were to my womanly heart. I knelt and prayed for the innocent
little sleepers. I kissed them lightly, and turned away.
As I was about to open the street door, Sally laid her hand on my
shoulder, and said, “Linda, is you gwine all alone? Let me call your
uncle.”
“No, Sally,” I replied, “I want no one to be brought into trouble on my
account.”
I went forth into the darkness and rain. I ran on till I came to the
house of the friend who was to conceal me.
Early the next morning Mr. Flint was at my grandmother’s inquiring
for me. She told him she had not seen me, and supposed I was at the
plantation. He watched her face narrowly, and said, “Don’t you know any
thing about her running off?” She assured him that she did not. He went
on to say, “Last night she ran off without the least provocation. We
had treated her very kindly. My wife liked her. She will soon be found
and brought back. Are her children with you?” When told that they were,
he said, “I am very glad to hear that. If they are here, she cannot be