The History of Mary Prince, a West Indian Slave
his hard heart--neither sighs, nor tears, nor prayers, nor streaming
blood; he was deaf to our cries, and careless of our sufferings. Mr. D----
has often stripped me naked, hung me up by the wrists, and beat me with
the cow-skin, with his own hand, till my body was raw with gashes. Yet
there was nothing very remarkable in this; for it might serve as a sample
of the common usage of the slaves on that horrible island.
Owing to the boils in my feet, I was unable to wheel the barrow fast
through the sand, which got into the sores, and made me stumble at every
step; and my master, having no pity for my sufferings from this cause,
rendered them far more intolerable, by chastising me for not being able to
move so fast as he wished me. Another of our employments was to row a
little way off from the shore in a boat, and dive for large stones to
build a wall round our master's house. This was very hard work; and the
great waves breaking over us continually, made us often so giddy that we
lost our footing, and were in danger of being drowned.
Ah, poor me!--my tasks were never ended. Sick or well, it was
work--work--work!--After the diving season was over, we were sent to the
South Creek, with large bills, to cut up mangoes to burn lime with. Whilst
one party of slaves were thus employed, another were sent to the other
side of the island to break up coral out of the sea.
When we were ill, let our complaint be what it might, the only medicine
given to us was a great bowl of hot salt water, with salt mixed with it,
which made us very sick. If we could not keep up with the rest of the gang
of slaves, we were put in the stocks, and severely flogged the next
morning. Yet, not the less, our master expected, after we had thus been
kept from our rest, and our limbs rendered stiff and sore with ill usage,
that we should still go through the ordinary tasks of the day all the
same.--Sometimes we had to work all night, measuring salt to load a
vessel; or turning a machine to draw water out of the sea for the
salt-making. Then we had no sleep--no rest--but were forced to work as
fast as we could, and go on again all next day the same as usual.
Work--work--work--Oh that Turk's Island was a horrible place! The people
in England, I am sure, have never found out what is carried on there.
Cruel, horrible place!
Mr. D---- had a slave called old Daniel, whom he used to treat in the most
cruel manner. Poor Daniel was lame in the hip, and could not keep up with
the rest of the slaves; and our master would order him to be stripped and
laid down on the ground, and have him beaten with a rod of rough briar
till his skin was quite red and raw. He would then call for a bucket of
salt, and fling upon the raw flesh till the man writhed on the ground like
a worm, and screamed aloud with agony. This poor man's wounds were never
healed, and I have often seen them full of maggots, which increased his
torments to an intolerable degree. He was an object of pity and terror to
the whole gang of slaves, and in his wretched case we saw, each of us, our
own lot, if we should live to be as old.
Oh the horrors of slavery!--How the thought of it pains my heart! But the
truth ought to be told of it; and what my eyes have seen I think it is my
duty to relate; for few people in England know what slavery is. I have
been a slave--I have felt what a slave feels, and I know what a slave
knows; and I would have all the good people in England to know it too,
that they may break our chains, and set us free.
Mr. D---- had another slave called Ben. He being very hungry, stole a
little rice one night after he came in from work, and cooked it for his
supper. But his master soon discovered the theft; locked him up all night;
and kept him without food till one o'clock the next day. He then hung Ben
up by his hands, and beat him from time to time till the slaves came in at
night. We found the poor creature hung up when we came home; with a pool
of blood beneath him, and our master still licking him. But this was not
the worst. My master's son was in the habit of stealing the rice and rum.
Ben had seen him do this, and thought he might do the same, and when
master found out that Ben had stolen the rice and swore to punish him, he
tried to excuse himself by saying that Master Dickey did the same thing
every night. The lad denied it to his father, and was so angry with Ben
for informing against him, that out of revenge he ran and got a bayonet,
and whilst the poor wretch was suspended by his hands and writhing under
his wounds, he run it quite through his foot. I was not by when he did it,
but I saw the wound when I came home, and heard Ben tell the manner in
which it was done.
I must say something more about this cruel son of a cruel father.--He had
no heart--no fear of God; he had been brought up by a bad father in a bad
path, and he delighted to follow in the same steps. There was a little old
woman among the slaves called Sarah, who was nearly past work; and, Master
Dickey being the overseer of the slaves just then, this poor creature, who
was subject to several bodily infirmities, and was not quite right in her
head, did not wheel the barrow fast enough to please him. He threw her
down on the ground, and after beating her severely, he took her up in his
arms and flung her among the prickly-pear bushes, which are all covered
over with sharp venomous prickles. By this her naked flesh was so
grievously wounded, that her body swelled and festered all over, and she
died a few days after. In telling my own sorrows, I cannot pass by those
of my fellow-slaves--for when I think of my own griefs, I remember theirs.
I think it was about ten years I had worked in the salt ponds at Turk's
Island, when my master left off business, and retired to a house he had in
Bermuda, leaving his son to succeed him in the island. He took me with him
to wait upon his daughters; and I was joyful, for I was sick, sick of
Turk's Island, and my heart yearned to see my native place again, my
mother, and my kindred.
I had seen my poor mother during the time I was a slave in Turk's Island.
One Sunday morning I was on the beach with some of the slaves, and we saw
a sloop come in loaded with slaves to work in the salt water. We got a
boat and went aboard. When I came upon the deck I asked the black people,
"Is there any one here for me?" "Yes," they said, "your mother." I thought
they said this in jest--I could scarcely believe them for joy; but when I
saw my poor mammy my joy was turned to sorrow, for she had gone from her
senses. "Mammy," I said, "is this you?" She did not know me. "Mammy," I
said, "what's the matter?" She began to talk foolishly, and said that she
had been under the vessel's bottom. They had been overtaken by a violent
storm at sea. My poor mother had never been on the sea before, and she was
so ill, that she lost her senses, and it was long before she came quite to
herself again. She had a sweet child with her--a little sister I had never
seen, about four years of age, called Rebecca. I took her on shore with
me, for I felt I should love her directly; and I kept her with me a week.
Poor little thing! her's has been a sad life, and continues so to this
day. My mother worked for some years on the island, but was taken back to
Bermuda some time before my master carried me again thither.[7]
[Footnote 7: Of the subsequent lot of her relatives she can tell but
little. She says, her father died while she and her mother were at Turk's
Island; and that he had been long dead and buried before any of his
children in Bermuda knew of it, they being slaves on other estates. Her
mother died after Mary went to Antigua. Of the fate of the rest of her
kindred, seven brothers and three sisters, she knows nothing further than
this--that the eldest sister, who had several children to her master, was
taken by him to Trinidad; and that the youngest, Rebecca, is still alive,
and in slavery in Bermuda. Mary herself is now about forty-three years of
age.--_Ed._]
After I left Turk's Island, I was told by some negroes that came over from
it, that the poor slaves had built up a place with boughs and leaves,
where they might meet for prayers, but the white people pulled it down
twice, and would not allow them even a shed for prayers. A flood came down
soon after and washed away many houses, filled the place with sand, and
overflowed the ponds: and I do think that this was for their wickedness;
for the Buckra men[8] there were very wicked. I saw and heard much that
was very very bad at that place.
[Footnote 8: Negro term for white people.]
I was several years the slave of Mr. D---- after I returned to my native
place. Here I worked in the grounds. My work was planting and hoeing
sweet-potatoes, Indian corn, plantains, bananas, cabbages, pumpkins,
onions, &c. I did all the household work, and attended upon a horse and
cow besides,--going also upon all errands. I had to curry the horse--to
clean and feed him--and sometimes to ride him a little. I had more than
enough to do--but still it was not so very bad as Turk's Island.
My old master often got drunk, and then he would get in a fury with his
daughter, and beat her till she was not fit to be seen. I remember on one
occasion, I had gone to fetch water, and when I Was coming up the hill I
heard a great screaming; I ran as fast as I could to the house, put down
the water, and went into the chamber, where I found my master beating Miss
D---- dreadfully. I strove with all my strength to get her away from him;
for she was all black and blue with bruises. He had beat her with his
fist, and almost killed her. The people gave me credit for getting her
away. He turned round and began to lick me. Then I said, "Sir, this is not
Turk's Island." I can't repeat his answer, the words were too wicked--too
bad to say. He wanted to treat me the same in Bermuda as he had done in
Turk's Island.
He had an ugly fashion of stripping himself quite naked, and ordering me
then to wash him in a tub of water. This was worse to me than all the
licks. Sometimes when he called me to wash him I would not come, my eyes
were so full of shame. He would then come to beat me. One time I had
plates and knives in my hand, and I dropped both plates and knives, and
some of the plates were broken. He struck me so severely for this, that at
last I defended myself, for I thought it was high time to do so. I then
told him I would not live longer with him, for he was a very indecent
man--very spiteful, and too indecent; with no shame for his servants, no
shame for his own flesh. So I went away to a neighbouring house and sat
down and cried till the next morning, when I went home again, not knowing
what else to do.
After that I was hired to work at Cedar Hills, and every Saturday night I
paid the money to my master. I had plenty of work to do there--plenty of
washing; but yet I made myself pretty comfortable. I earned two dollars
and a quarter a week, which is twenty pence a day.
During the time I worked there, I heard that Mr. John Wood was going to
Antigua. I felt a great wish to go there, and I went to Mr. D----, and
asked him to let me go in Mr. Wood's service. Mr. Wood did not then want
to purchase me; it was my own fault that I came under him, I was so
anxious to go. It was ordained to be, I suppose; God led me there. The
truth is, I did not wish to be any longer the slave of my indecent master.
Mr. Wood took me with him to Antigua, to the town of St. John's, where he
lived. This was about fifteen years ago. He did not then know whether I
was to be sold; but Mrs. Wood found that I could work, and she wanted to
buy me. Her husband then wrote to my master to inquire whether I was to be
sold? Mr. D---- wrote in reply, "that I should not be sold to any one that