Twelve Years a Slave
wrapped our blankets round us, and laid down upon the cabin floor.
My thoughts, as usual, wandered back to my wife and children. The
consciousness of my real situation; the hopelessness of any effort to
escape through the wide forests of Avoyelles, pressed heavily upon me,
yet my heart was at home in Saratoga.
I was awakened early in the morning by the voice of Master Ford,
calling Rose. She hastened into the house to dress the children, Sally
to the field to milk the cows, while John was busy in the kitchen
preparing breakfast. In the meantime Harry and I were strolling about
the yard, looking at our new quarters. Just after breakfast a colored
man, driving three yoke of oxen, attached to a wagon load of lumber,
drove into the opening. He was a slave of Ford's, named Walton, the
husband of Rose. By the way, Rose was a native of Washington, and had
been brought from thence five years before. She had never seen Eliza,
but she had heard of Berry, and they knew the same streets, and the
same people, either personally, or by reputation. They became fast
friends immediately, and talked a great deal together of old times,
and of friends they had left behind.
Ford was at that time a wealthy man. Besides his seat in the Pine
Woods, he owned a large lumbering establishment on Indian Creek, four
miles distant, and also, in his wife's right, an extensive plantation
and many slaves on Bayou Boeuf.
Walton had come with his load of lumber from the mills on Indian
Creek. Ford directed us to return with him, saying he would follow
us as soon as possible. Before leaving, Mistress Ford called me into
the store-room, and handed me, as it is there termed, a tin bucket of
molasses for Harry and myself.
Eliza was still ringing her hands and deploring the loss of her
children. Ford tried as much as possible to console her--told her she
need not work very hard; that she might remain with Rose, and assist
the madam in the house affairs.
Riding with Walton in the wagon, Harry and I became quite well
acquainted with him long before reaching Indian Creek. He was a "born
thrall" of Ford's, and spoke kindly and affectionately of him, as
a child would speak of his own father. In answer to his inquiries
from whence I came, I told him from Washington. Of that city, he had
heard much from his wife, Rose, and all the way plied me with many
extravagant and absurd questions.
On reaching the mills at Indian Creek, we found two more of Ford's
slaves, Sam and Antony. Sam, also, was a Washingtonian, having been
brought out in the same gang with Rose. He had worked on a farm near
Georgetown. Antony was a blacksmith, from Kentucky, who had been in
his present master's service about ten years. Sam knew Burch, and when
informed that he was the trader who had sent me on from Washington, it
was remarkable how well we agreed upon the subject of his superlative
rascality. He had forwarded Sam, also.
On Ford's arrival at the mill, we were employed in piling lumber, and
chopping logs, which occupation we continued during the remainder of
the summer.
We usually spent our Sabbaths at the opening, on which days our master
would gather all his slaves about him, and read and expound the
Scriptures. He sought to inculcate in our minds feelings of kindness
towards each other, of dependence upon God--setting forth the rewards
promised unto those who lead an upright and prayerful life. Seated
in the doorway of his house, surrounded by his man-servants and his
maid-servants, who looked earnestly into the good man's face, he spoke
of the loving kindness of the Creator, and of the life that is to
come. Often did the voice of prayer ascend from his lips to heaven,
the only sound that broke the solitude of the place.
In the course of the summer Sam became deeply convicted, his mind
dwelling intensely on the subject of religion. His mistress gave him
a Bible, which he carried with him to his work. Whatever leisure time
was allowed him, he spent in perusing it, though it was only with
great difficulty that he could master any part of it. I often read to
him, a favor which he well repaid me by many expressions of gratitude.
Sam's piety was frequently observed by white men who came to the mill,
and the remark it most generally provoked was, that a man like Ford,
who allowed his slaves to have Bibles, was "not fit to own a nigger."
He, however, lost nothing by his kindness. It is a fact I have
more than once observed, that those who treated their slaves most
leniently, were rewarded by the greatest amount of labor. I know
it from my own experience. It was a source of pleasure to surprise
Master Ford with a greater day's work than was required, while, under
subsequent masters, there was no prompter to extra effort but the
overseer's lash.
It was the desire of Ford's approving voice that suggested to me an
idea that resulted to his profit. The lumber we were manufacturing
was contracted to be delivered at Lamourie. It had hitherto been
transported by land, and was an important item of expense. Indian
Creek, upon which the mills were situated, was a narrow but deep
stream emptying into Bayou Boeuf. In some places it was not more than
twelve feet wide, and much obstructed with trunks of trees. Bayou
Boeuf was connected with Bayou Lamourie. I ascertained the distance
from the mills to the point on the latter bayou, where our lumber
was to be delivered, was but a few miles less by land than by water.
Provided the creek could be made navigable for rafts, it occurred to
me that the expense of transportation would be materially diminished.
Adam Taydem, a little white man, who had been a soldier in Florida,
and had strolled into that distant region, was foreman and
superintendent of the mills. He scouted the idea; but Ford, when I
laid it before him, received it favorably, and permitted me to try the
experiment.
Having removed the obstructions, I made up a narrow raft, consisting
of twelve cribs. At this business I think I was quite skillful, not
having forgotten my experience years before on the Champlain canal. I
labored hard, being extremely anxious to succeed, both from a desire
to please my master, and to show Adam Taydem that my scheme was not
such a visionary one as he incessantly pronounced it. One hand could
manage three cribs. I took charge of the forward three, and commenced
poling down the creek. In due time we entered the first bayou, and
finally reached our destination in a shorter period of time than I had
anticipated.
The arrival of the raft at Lamourie created a sensation, while Mr.
Ford loaded me with commendations. On all sides I heard Ford's Platt
pronounced the "smartest nigger in the Pine Woods"--in fact I was the
Fulton of Indian Creek. I was not insensible to the praise bestowed
upon me, and enjoyed, especially, my triumph over Taydem, whose
half-malicious ridicule had stung my pride. From this time the entire
control of bringing the lumber to Lamourie was placed in my hands
until the contract was fulfilled.
Indian Creek, in its whole length, flows through a magnificent
forest. There dwells on its shore a tribe of Indians, a remnant of
the Chickasaws or Chickopees, if I remember rightly. They live in
simple huts, ten or twelve feet square, constructed of pine poles
and covered with bark. They subsist principally on the flesh of the
deer, the coon, and opossum, all of which are plenty in these woods.
Sometimes they exchange venison for a little corn and whisky with
the planters on the bayous. Their usual dress is buckskin breeches
and calico hunting shirts of fantastic colors, buttoned from belt to
chin. They wear brass rings on their wrists, and in their ears and
noses. The dress of the squaws is very similar. They are fond of dogs
and horses--owning many of the latter, of a small, tough breed--and
are skillful riders. Their bridles, girths and saddles were made
of raw skins of animals; their stirrups of a certain kind of wood.
Mounted astride their ponies, men and women, I have seen them dash
out into the woods at the utmost of their speed, following narrow
winding paths, and dodging trees, in a manner that eclipsed the most
miraculous feats of civilized equestrianism. Circling away in various
directions, the forest echoing and re-echoing with their whoops, they
would presently return at the same dashing, headlong speed with which
they started. Their village was on Indian Creek, known as Indian
Castle, but their range extended to the Sabine River. Occasionally
a tribe from Texas would come over on a visit, and then there was
indeed a carnival in the "Great Pine Woods." Chief of the tribe was
Cascalla; second in rank, John Baltese, his son-in-law; with both of
whom, as with many others of the tribe, I became acquainted during
my frequent voyages down the creek with rafts. Sam and myself would
often visit them when the day's task was done. They were obedient to
the chief; the word of Cascalla was their law. They were a rude but
harmless people, and enjoyed their wild mode of life. They had little
fancy for the open country, the cleared lands on the shores of the
bayous, but preferred to hide themselves within the shadows of the
forest. They worshiped the Great Spirit, loved whisky, and were happy.
On one occasion I was present at a dance, when a roving herd from
Texas had encamped in their village. The entire carcass of a deer was
roasting before a large fire, which threw its light a long distance
among the trees under which they were assembled. When they had formed
in a ring, men and squaws alternately, a sort of Indian fiddle set up
an indescribable tune. It was a continuous, melancholy kind of wavy
sound, with the slightest possible variation. At the first note, if
indeed there was more than one note in the whole tune, they circled
around, trotting after each other, and giving utterance to a guttural,
sing-song noise, equally as nondescript as the music of the fiddle.
At the end of the third circuit, they would stop suddenly, whoop as
if their lungs would crack, then break from the ring, forming in
couples, man and squaw, each jumping backwards as far as possible from
the other, then forwards--which graceful feat having been twice or
thrice accomplished, they would form in a ring, and go trotting round
again. The best dancer appeared to be considered the one who could
whoop the loudest, jump the farthest, and utter the most excruciating
noise. At intervals, one or more would leave the dancing circle, and
going to the fire, cut from the roasting carcass a slice of venison.
In a hole, shaped like a mortar, cut in the trunk of a fallen tree,
they pounded corn with a wooden pestle, and of the meal made cake.
Alternately they danced and ate. Thus were the visitors from Texas
entertained by the dusky sons and daughters of the Chicopees, and such
is a description, as I saw it, of an Indian ball in the Pine Woods of
Avoyelles.
In the autumn, I left the mills, and was employed at the opening.
One day the mistress was urging Ford to procure a loom, in order
that Sally might commence weaving cloth for the winter garments of
the slaves. He could not imagine where one was to be found, when
I suggested that the easiest way to get one would be to make it,
informing him at the same time, that I was a sort of "Jack at all
trades," and would attempt it, with his permission. It was granted
very readily, and I was allowed to go to a neighboring planter's
to inspect one before commencing the undertaking. At length it was
finished and pronounced by Sally to be perfect. She could easily
weave her task of fourteen yards, milk the cows, and have leisure time
besides each day. It worked so well, I was continued in the employment
of making looms, which were taken down to the plantation on the bayou.