Twelve Years a Slave
is altogether unnecessary, the crevices between the logs admitting
sufficient light. In stormy weather the rain drives through them,
rendering it comfortless and extremely disagreeable. The rude door
hangs on great wooden hinges. In one end is constructed an awkward
fire-place.
An hour before day light the horn is blown. Then the slaves arouse,
prepare their breakfast, fill a gourd with water, in another deposit
their dinner of cold bacon and corn cake, and hurry to the field
again. It is an offence invariably followed by a flogging, to be found
at the quarters after daybreak. Then the fears and labors of another
day begin; and until its close there is no such thing as rest. He
fears he will be caught lagging through the day; he fears to approach
the gin-house with his basket-load of cotton at night; he fears, when
he lies down, that he will oversleep himself in the morning. Such is a
true, faithful, unexaggerated picture and description of the slave's
daily life, during the time of cotton-picking, on the shores of Bayou
Boeuf.
In the month of January, generally, the fourth and last picking is
completed. Then commences the harvesting of corn. This is considered
a secondary crop, and receives far less attention than the cotton. It
is planted, as already mentioned, in February. Corn is grown in that
region for the purpose of fattening hogs and feeding slaves; very
little, if any, being sent to market. It is the white variety, the
ear of great size, and the stalk growing to the height of eight, and
often times ten feet. In August the leaves are stripped off, dried in
the sun, bound in small bundles, and stored away as provender for the
mules and oxen. After this the slaves go through the field, turning
down the ear, for the purpose of keeping the rains from penetrating to
the grain. It is left in this condition until after cotton-picking is
over, whether earlier or later. Then the ears are separated from the
stalks, and deposited in the corncrib with the husks on; otherwise,
stripped of the husks, the weevil would destroy it. The stalks are
left standing in the field.
The Carolina, or sweet potato, is also grown in that region to
some extent. They are not fed, however, to hogs or cattle, and are
considered but of small importance. They are preserved by placing them
upon the surface of the ground, with a slight covering of earth or
cornstalks. There is not a cellar on Bayou Boeuf. The ground is so low
it would fill with water. Potatoes are worth from two to three "bits,"
or shillings a barrel; corn, except when there is an unusual scarcity,
can be purchased at the same rate.
As soon as the cotton and corn crops are secured, the stalks are
pulled up, thrown into piles and burned. The ploughs are started at
the same time, throwing up the beds again, preparatory to another
planting. The soil, in the parishes of Rapides and Avoyelles, and
throughout the whole country, so far as my observation extended, is
of exceeding richness and fertility. It is a kind of marl, of a brown
or reddish color. It does not require those invigorating composts
necessary to more barren lands, and on the same field the same crop is
grown for many successive years.
Ploughing, planting, picking cotton, gathering the corn, and pulling
and burning stalks, occupies the whole of the four seasons of the
year. Drawing and cutting wood, pressing cotton, fattening and killing
hogs, are but incidental labors.
In the month of September or October, the hogs are run out of the
swamps by dogs, and confined in pens. On a cold morning, generally
about New Year's day, they are slaughtered. Each carcass is cut into
six parts, and piled one above the other in salt, upon large tables
in the smoke-house. In this condition it remains a fortnight, when it
is hung up, and a fire built, and continued more than half the time
during the remainder of the year. This thorough smoking is necessary
to prevent the bacon from becoming infested with worms. In so warm a
climate it is difficult to preserve it, and very many times myself and
my companions have received our weekly allowance of three pounds and a
half, when it was full of these disgusting vermin.
Although the swamps are overrun with cattle, they are never made
the source of profit, to any considerable extent. The planter
cuts his mark upon the ear, or brands his initials upon the side,
and turns them into the swamps, to roam unrestricted within their
almost limitless confines. They are the Spanish breed, small and
spike-horned. I have known of droves being taken from Bayou Boeuf, but
it is of very rare occurrence. The value of the best cows is about
five dollars each. Two quarts at one milking, would be considered
an unusual large quantity. They furnish little tallow, and that of
a soft, inferior quality. Notwithstanding the great number of cows
that throng the swamps, the planters are indebted to the North for
their cheese and butter, which is purchased in the New-Orleans market.
Salted beef is not an article of food either in the great house, or in
the cabin.
Master Epps was accustomed to attend shooting matches for the purpose
of obtaining what fresh beef he required. These sports occurred
weekly at the neighboring village of Holmesville. Fat beeves are
driven thither and shot at, a stipulated price being demanded for the
privilege. The lucky marksman divides the flesh among his fellows, and
in this manner the attending planters are supplied.
The great number of tame and untamed cattle which swarm the woods and
swamps of Bayou Boeuf, most probably suggested that appellation to the
French, inasmuch as the term, translated, signifies the creek or river
of the wild ox.
Garden products, such as cabbages, turnips and the like, are
cultivated for the use of the master and his family. They have greens
and vegetables at all times and seasons of the year. "The grass
withereth and the flower fadeth" before the desolating winds of autumn
in the chill northern latitudes, but perpetual verdure overspreads the
hot lowlands, and flowers bloom in the heart of winter, in the region
of Bayou Boeuf.
There are no meadows appropriated to the cultivation of the grasses.
The leaves of the corn supply a sufficiency of food for the laboring
cattle, while the rest provide for themselves all the year in the
ever-growing pasture.
There are many other peculiarities of climate, habit, custom, and of
the manner of living and laboring at the South, but the foregoing, it
is supposed, will give the reader an insight and general idea of life
on a cotton plantation in Louisiana. The mode of cultivating cane,
and the process of sugar manufacturing, will be mentioned in another
place.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE CURIOUS AXE-HELVE--SYMPTOMS OF APPROACHING ILLNESS--CONTINUE
TO DECLINE--THE WHIP INEFFECTUAL--CONFINED TO THE CABIN--VISIT BY
DR. WINES--PARTIAL RECOVERY--FAILURE AT COTTON PICKING--WHAT MAY
BE HEARD ON EPPS' PLANTATION--LASHES GRADUATED--EPPS IN A WHIPPING
MOOD--EPPS IN A DANCING MOOD--DESCRIPTION OF THE DANCE--LOSS OF
REST NO EXCUSE--EPPS' CHARACTERISTICS--JIM BURNS REMOVAL FROM HUFF
POWER TO BAYOU BOEUF--DESCRIPTION OF UNCLE ABRAM; OF WILEY; OF AUNT
PHEBE; OF BOB, HENRY, AND EDWARD; OF PATSEY; WITH A GENEALOGICAL
ACCOUNT OF EACH--SOMETHING OF THEIR PAST HISTORY, AND PECULIAR
CHARACTERISTICS--JEALOUSY AND LUST--PATSEY, THE VICTIM.
On my arrival at Master Epps', in obedience to his order, the first
business upon which I entered was the making of an axe-helve. The
handles in use there are simply a round, straight stick. I made a
crooked one, shaped like those to which I had been accustomed at the
North. When finished, and presented to Epps, he looked at it with
astonishment, unable to determine exactly what it was. He had never
before seen such a handle, and when I explained its conveniences, he
was forcibly struck with the novelty of the idea. He kept it in the
house a long time, and when his friends called, was wont to exhibit it
as a curiosity.
It was now the season of hoeing. I was first sent into the
corn-field, and afterwards set to scraping cotton. In this employment
I remained until hoeing time was nearly passed, when I began to
experience the symptoms of approaching illness. I was attacked with
chills, which were succeeded by a burning fever. I became weak and
emaciated, and frequently so dizzy that it caused me to reel and
stagger like a drunken man. Nevertheless, I was compelled to keep up
my row. When in health I found little difficulty in keeping pace with
my fellow-laborers, but now it seemed to be an utter impossibility.
Often I fell behind, when the driver's lash was sure to greet my back,
infusing into my sick and drooping body a little temporary energy.
I continued to decline until at length the whip became entirely
ineffectual. The sharpest sting of the rawhide could not arouse me.
Finally, in September, when the busy season of cotton picking was at
hand, I was unable to leave my cabin. Up to this time I had received
no medicine, nor any attention from my master or mistress. The old
cook visited me occasionally, preparing me corn-coffee, and sometimes
boiling a bit of bacon, when I had grown too feeble to accomplish it
myself.
When it was said that I would die, Master Epps, unwilling to bear
the loss, which the death of an animal worth a thousand dollars
would bring upon him, concluded to incur the expense of sending to
Holmesville for Dr. Wines. He announced to Epps that it was the
effect of the climate, and there was a probability of his losing me.
He directed me to eat no meat, and to partake of no more food than
was absolutely necessary to sustain life. Several weeks elapsed,
during which time, under the scanty diet to which I was subjected, I
had partially recovered. One morning, long before I was in a proper
condition to labor, Epps appeared at the cabin door, and, presenting
me a sack, ordered me to the cotton field. At this time I had had no
experience whatever in cotton picking. It was an awkward business
indeed. While others used both hands, snatching the cotton and
depositing it in the mouth of the sack, with a precision and dexterity
that was incomprehensible to me, I had to seize the boll with one
hand, and deliberately draw out the white, gushing blossom with the
other.
Depositing the cotton in the sack, moreover, was a difficulty that
demanded the exercise of both hands and eyes. I was compelled to pick
it from the ground where it would fall, nearly as often as from the
stalk where it had grown. I made havoc also with the branches, loaded
with the yet unbroken bolls, the long, cumbersome sack swinging from
side to side in a manner not allowable in the cotton field. After a
most laborious day I arrived at the gin-house with my load. When the
scale determined its weight to be only ninety-five pounds, not half
the quantity required of the poorest picker, Epps threatened the
severest flogging, but in consideration of my being a "raw hand,"
concluded to pardon me on that occasion. The following day, and
many days succeeding, I returned at night with no better success--I
was evidently not designed for that kind of labor. I had not the
gift--the dexterous fingers and quick motion of Patsey, who could
fly along one side of a row of cotton, stripping it of its undefiled
and fleecy whiteness miraculously fast. Practice and whipping were
alike unavailing, and Epps, satisfied of it at last, swore I was
a disgrace--that I was not fit to associate with a cotton-picking
"nigger"--that I could not pick enough in a day to pay the trouble
of weighing it, and that I should go into the cotton field no more.
I was now employed in cutting and hauling wood, drawing cotton from
the field to the gin-house, and performed whatever other service was