Twelve Years a Slave
continually gave utterance to the language of hatred and revenge.
Her husband had been sold. She knew not where she was. An exchange
of masters, she was sure, could not be for the worse. She cared not
whither they might carry her. Pointing to the scars upon her face, the
desperate creature wished that she might see the day when she could
wipe them off in some man's blood!
While we were thus learning the history of each other's wretchedness,
Eliza was seated in a corner by herself, singing hymns and praying
for her children. Wearied from the loss of so much sleep, I could
no longer bear up against the advances of that "sweet restorer,"
and laying down by the side of Robert, on the floor, soon forgot my
troubles, and slept until the dawn of day.
In the morning, having swept the yard, and washed ourselves, under
Goodin's superintendence, we were ordered to roll up our blankets, and
make ready for the continuance of our journey. Clem Ray was informed
that he would go no further, Burch, for some cause, having concluded
to carry him back to Washington. He was much rejoiced. Shaking hands,
we parted in the slave pen at Richmond, and I have not seen him
since. But, much to my surprise, since my return, I learned that he
had escaped from bondage, and on his way to the free soil of Canada,
lodged one night at the house of my brother-in-law in Saratoga,
informing my family of the place and the condition in which he left me.
In the afternoon we were drawn up, two abreast, Robert and myself in
advance, and in this order, driven by Burch and Goodin from the yard,
through the streets of Richmond to the brig Orleans. She was a vessel
of respectable size, full rigged, and freighted principally with
tobacco. We were all on board by five o'clock. Burch brought us each
a tin cup and a spoon. There were forty of us in the brig, being all,
except Clem, that were in the pen.
With a small pocket knife that had not been taken from me, I began
cutting the initials of my name upon the tin cup. The others
immediately flocked round me, requesting me to mark theirs in a
similar manner. In time, I gratified them all, of which they did not
appear to be forgetful.
We were all stowed away in the hold at night, and the hatch barred
down. We laid on boxes, or where-ever there was room enough to stretch
our blankets on the floor.
Burch accompanied us no farther than Richmond, returning from that
point to the capital with Clem. Not until the lapse of almost twelve
years, to wit, in January last, in the Washington police office, did I
set my eyes upon his face again.
James H. Burch was a slave-trader--buying men, women and children
at low prices, and selling them at an advance. He was a speculator
in human flesh--a disreputable calling--and so considered at the
South. For the present he disappears from the scenes recorded in
this narrative, but he will appear again before its close, not in
the character of a man-whipping tyrant, but as an arrested, cringing
criminal in a court of law, that failed to do him justice.
CHAPTER V.
ARRIVAL AT NORFOLK--FREDERICK AND MARIA--ARTHUR, THE
FREEMAN--APPOINTED STEWARD--JIM, CUFFEE, AND JENNY--THE STORM--BAHAMA
BANKS--THE CALM--THE CONSPIRACY--THE LONG BOAT--THE SMALL-POX--DEATH
OF ROBERT--MANNING, THE SAILOR--THE MEETING IN THE FORECASTLE--THE
LETTER--ARRIVAL AT NEW-ORLEANS--ARTHUR'S RESCUE--THEOPHILUS FREEMAN,
THE CONSIGNEE--PLATT--FIRST NIGHT IN THE NEW-ORLEANS SLAVE PEN.
After we were all on board, the brig Orleans proceeded down James
River. Passing into Chesapeake Bay, we arrived next day opposite the
city of Norfolk. While lying at anchor, a lighter approached us from
the town, bringing four more slaves. Frederick, a boy of eighteen,
had been born a slave, as also had Henry, who was some years older.
They had both been house servants in the city. Maria was a rather
genteel looking colored girl, with a faultless form, but ignorant
and extremely vain. The idea of going to New-Orleans was pleasing
to her. She entertained an extravagantly high opinion of her own
attractions. Assuming a haughty mien, she declared to her companions,
that immediately on our arrival in New-Orleans, she had no doubt, some
wealthy single gentleman of good taste would purchase her at once!
But the most prominent of the four, was a man named Arthur. As the
lighter approached, he struggled stoutly with his keepers. It was
with main force that he was dragged aboard the brig. He protested, in
a loud voice, against the treatment he was receiving, and demanded
to be released. His face was swollen, and covered with wounds and
bruises, and, indeed, one side of it was a complete raw sore. He was
forced, with all haste, down the hatchway into the hold. I caught
an outline of his story as he was borne struggling along, of which
he afterwards gave me a more full relation, and it was as follows:
He had long resided in the city of Norfolk, and was a free man. He
had a family living there, and was a mason by trade. Having been
unusually detained, he was returning late one night to his house in
the suburbs of the city, when he was attacked by a gang of persons
in an unfrequented street. He fought until his strength failed him.
Overpowered at last, he was gagged and bound with ropes, and beaten,
until he became insensible. For several days they secreted him in the
slave pen at Norfolk--a very common establishment, it appears, in
the cities of the South. The night before, he had been taken out and
put on board the lighter, which, pushing out from shore, had awaited
our arrival. For some time he continued his protestations, and was
altogether irreconcilable. At length, however, he became silent. He
sank into a gloomy and thoughtful mood, and appeared to be counseling
with himself. There was in the man's determined face, something that
suggested the thought of desperation.
After leaving Norfolk the hand-cuffs were taken off, and during the
day we were allowed to remain on deck. The captain selected Robert as
his waiter, and I was appointed to superintend the cooking department,
and the distribution of food and water. I had three assistants, Jim,
Cuffee and Jenny. Jenny's business was to prepare the coffee, which
consisted of corn meal scorched in a kettle, boiled and sweetened with
molasses. Jim and Cuffee baked the hoe-cake and boiled the bacon.
Standing by a table, formed of a wide board resting on the heads of
the barrels, I cut and handed to each a slice of meat and a "dodger"
of the bread, and from Jenny's kettle also dipped out for each a
cup of the coffee. The use of plates was dispensed with, and their
sable fingers took the place of knives and forks. Jim and Cuffee were
very demure and attentive to business, somewhat inflated with their
situation as second cooks, and without doubt feeling that there was
a great responsibility resting on them. I was called steward--a name
given me by the captain.
The slaves were fed twice a day, at ten and five o'clock--always
receiving the same kind and quantity of fare, and in the same manner
as above described. At night we were driven into the hold, and
securely fastened down.
Scarcely were we out of sight of land before we were overtaken by
a violent storm. The brig rolled and plunged until we feared she
would go down. Some were sea-sick, others on their knees praying,
while some were fast holding to each other, paralyzed with fear. The
sea-sickness rendered the place of our confinement loathsome and
disgusting. It would have been a happy thing for most of us--it would
have saved the agony of many hundred lashes, and miserable deaths at
last--had the compassionate sea snatched us that day from the clutches
of remorseless men. The thought of Randall and little Emmy sinking
down among the monsters of the deep, is a more pleasant contemplation
than to think of them as they are now, perhaps, dragging out lives of
unrequited toil.
When in sight of the Bahama Banks, at a place called Old Point
Compass, or the Hole in the Wall, we were becalmed three days. There
was scarcely a breath of air. The waters of the gulf presented a
singularly white appearance, like lime water.
In the order of events, I come now to the relation of an occurrence,
which I never call to mind but with sensations of regret. I thank God,
who has since permitted me to escape from the thralldom of slavery,
that through his merciful interposition I was prevented from imbruing
my hands in the blood of his creatures. Let not those who have never
been placed in like circumstances, judge me harshly. Until they have
been chained and beaten--until they find themselves in the situation I
was, borne away from home and family towards a land of bondage--let
them refrain from saying what they would not do for liberty. How
far I should have been justified in the sight of God and man, it is
unnecessary now to speculate upon. It is enough to say that I am able
to congratulate myself upon the harmless termination of an affair
which threatened, for a time, to be attended with serious results.
Towards evening, on the first day of the calm, Arthur and myself were
in the bow of the vessel, seated on the windlass. We were conversing
together of the probable destiny that awaited us, and mourning
together over our misfortunes. Arthur said, and I agreed with him,
that death was far less terrible than the living prospect that was
before us. For a long time we talked of our children, our past lives,
and of the probabilities of escape. Obtaining possession of the brig
was suggested by one of us. We discussed the possibility of our being
able, in such an event, to make our way to the harbor of New-York. I
knew little of the compass; but the idea of risking the experiment was
eagerly entertained. The chances, for and against us, in an encounter
with the crew, was canvassed. Who could be relied upon, and who could
not, the proper time and manner of the attack, were all talked over
and over again. From the moment the plot suggested itself I began
to hope. I revolved it constantly in my mind. As difficulty after
difficulty arose, some ready conceit was at hand, demonstrating how
it could be overcome. While others slept, Arthur and I were maturing
our plans. At length, with much caution, Robert was gradually made
acquainted with our intentions. He approved of them at once, and
entered into the conspiracy with a zealous spirit. There was not
another slave we dared to trust. Brought up in fear and ignorance as
they are, it can scarcely be conceived how servilely they will cringe
before a white man's look. It was not safe to deposit so bold a secret
with any of them, and finally we three resolved to take upon ourselves
alone the fearful responsibility of the attempt.
At night, as has been said, we were driven into the hold, and the
hatch barred down. How to reach the deck was the first difficulty that
presented itself. On the bow of the brig, however, I had observed the
small boat lying bottom upwards. It occurred to me that by secreting
ourselves underneath it, we would not be missed from the crowd, as
they were hurried down into the hold at night. I was selected to make
the experiment, in order to satisfy ourselves of its feasibility. The
next evening, accordingly, after supper, watching my opportunity,
I hastily concealed myself beneath it. Lying close upon the deck,
I could see what was going on around me, while wholly unperceived
myself. In the morning, as they came up, I slipped from my hiding
place without being observed. The result was entirely satisfactory.
The captain and mate slept in the cabin of the former. From Robert,
who had frequent occasion, in his capacity of waiter, to make
observations in that quarter, we ascertained the exact position of