Among the Pines; or, South in Secession Time

by James R. Gilmore

  CHAPTER VII.

  PLANTATION DISCIPLINE.

  The "Ole Cabin" to which Jim had alluded as the scene of Sam'spunishment by the overseer, was a one-story shanty in the vicinity ofthe stables. Though fast falling to decay, it had more the appearance ofa human habitation than the other huts on the plantation. Its thickplank door was ornamented with a mouldy brass knocker, and its fourwindows contained sashes, to which here and there clung a broken pane,the surviving relic of its better days. It was built of large unhewnlogs, notched at the ends and laid one upon the other, with the barkstill on. The thick, rough coat which yet adhered in patches to thetimber had opened in the sun, and let the rain and the worm burrow inits sides, till some parts had crumbled entirely away. At one corner theprocess of decay had gone on till roof, superstructure, and foundationhad rotted down and left an opening large enough to admit a coach andfour horses. The huge chimneys which had graced the gable ends of thebuilding were fallen in, leaving only a mass of sticks and clay to tellof their existence, and two wide openings to show how great a figurethey had once made in the world. A small space in front of the cabinwould have been a lawn, had the grass been willing to grow upon it; anda few acres of cleared land in its rear might have passed for a garden,had it not been entirely overgrown with young pines and stubble. Thisprimitive structure was once the "mansion" of that broad plantation,and, before the production of turpentine came into fashion in thatregion, its rude owner drew his support from its few surrounding acres,more truly independent than the present aristocratic proprietor, who,raising only one article, and buying all his provisions, was forced todraw his support from the Yankee or the Englishman.

  Only one room, about forty feet square, occupied the interior of thecabin. It once contained several apartments, vestiges of which stillremained, but the partitions had been torn away to fit it for itspresent uses. What those uses were, a moment's observation showed me.

  In the middle of the floor, a space about fifteen feet square wascovered with thick pine planking, strongly nailed to the beams. In thecentre of this planking, an oaken block was firmly bolted, and to it wasfastened a strong iron staple that held a log-chain, to which wasattached a pair of shackles. Above this, was a queer frame-work of oak,somewhat resembling the contrivance for drying fruit I have seen inYankee farmhouses. Attached to the rafters by stout pieces of timber,were two hickory poles, placed horizontally, and about four feet apart,the lower one rather more than eight feet from the floor. This was thewhipping-rack, and hanging to it were several stout whips with shorthickory handles, and long triple lashes. I took one down for closerinspection, and found burned into the wood, in large letters, the words"Moral Suasion." I questioned the appropriateness of the label, but theColonel insisted with great gravity, that the whip is the only "moralsuasion" a darky is capable of understanding.

  When punishment is inflicted on one of the Colonel's negroes, his feetare confined in the shackles, his arms tied above his head, and drawn bya stout cord up to one of the horizontal poles; then, his back bared tothe waist, and standing on tip-toe, with every muscle stretched to itsutmost tension, he takes "de lashes."

  A more severe but more unusual punishment is the "thumb-screw." In thisa noose is passed around the negro's thumb and fore-finger, while thecord is thrown over the upper cross-pole, and the culprit is drawn uptill his toes barely touch the ground. In this position the whole weightof the body rests on the thumb and fore-finger. The torture isexcruciating, and strong, able-bodied men can endure it but a fewmoments. The Colonel naively told me that he had discontinued itspractice, as several of his _women_ had nearly lost the use of theirhands, and been incapacitated for field labor, by its too frequentrepetition. "My ---- drivers,"[G] he added, "have no discretion, and nohumanity; if they have a pique against a nigger, they show him nomercy."

  The old shanty I have described was now the place of the overseer'sconfinement. Open as it was at top, bottom, and sides, it seemed anunsafe prison-house; but Jim had secured its present occupant by placing"de padlocks on him."

  "Where did you catch him?" asked the Colonel, as, followed by everydarky on the plantation, we took our way to the old building.

  "In de swamp, massa. We got Sandy and de dogs arter him--dey treed him,but he fit like de debble."

  "Any one hurt?"

  "Yas, Cunnel; he knifed Yaller Jake, and ef I hadn't a gibin him awiper, you'd a had anudder nigger short dis mornin'--shore."

  "How was it? tell me," said his master, while we paused, and the darkiesgathered around.

  "Wal, yer see, massa, we got de ole debble's hat dat he drapped wen youhad him down; den we went to Sandy's fur de dogs--dey scented him toonst, and off dey put for de swamp. 'Bout twenty on us follored 'em.He'd a right smart start on us, and run like a deer, but de houndskotched up wid him 'bout whar he shot pore Sam. He fit 'em and cut up deLady awful, but ole Caesar got a hole ob him, and sliced a breakfuss outob his legs. Somehow, dough, he got 'way from de ole dog, and clum atree. 'Twar more'n an hour afore we kotched up; but dar he war, and dehouns baying 'way as ef dey know'd what an ole debble he am. I'd tuk oneob de guns--you warn't in de house, massa, so I cudn't ax you."

  "Never mind that; go on," said the Colonel.

  "Wal, I up wid de gun, and tole him ef he didn't cum down I'd gib himsuffin' dat 'ud sot hard on de stummuk. It tuk him a long w'ile, but--he_cum down_." Here the darky showed a row of ivory that would have been afair capital for a metropolitan dentist.

  "When he war down," he resumed, "Jake war gwine to tie him, but de ole'gator, quicker dan a flash, put a knife enter him."

  "Is Jake much hurt?" interrupted the Colonel.

  "Not bad, massa; de knife went fru his arm, and enter his ribs, but dema'am hab fix him, and she say he'll be 'round bery sudden."

  "Well, what then?" inquired the Colonel.

  "Wen de ole debble seed he hadn't finished Jake, he war gwine to gib himanudder dig, but jus den I drap de gun on his cocoanut, and he nebertrubble us no more. 'Twar mons'rous hard work to git him out ob deswamp, 'cause he war jess like a dead man, and had to be toted de hullway; but he'm dar now, massa (pointing to the old cabin), and debracelets am on him."

  "Where is Jake?" asked the Colonel.

  "Dunno, massa, but reckon he'm to hum."

  "One of you boys go and bring him to the cabin," said the Colonel.

  A negro man went off on the errand, while we and the darkies resumed ourway to the overseer's quarters. Arrived there, I witnessed a scene thatwords cannot picture.

  Stretched at full length on the floor, his clothes torn to shreds, hiscoarse carroty hair matted with blood, and his thin, ugly visage pale asdeath, lay the overseer. Bending over him, wiping away the blood fromhis face, and swathing a ghastly wound on his forehead, was the negressSue; while at his shackled feet, binding up his still bleeding legs,knelt the octoroon woman!

  "Is _she_ here?" I said, involuntarily, as I caught sight of the group.

  "It's her nature," said the Colonel, with a pleasant smile; "if Moyewere the devil himself, she'd do him good if she could; another suchwoman never lived."

  And yet this woman, with all the instincts that make her sexangel-ministers to man, lived in daily violation of the most sacred ofall laws--because she was a slave. Can Mr. Caleb Cushing or CharlesO'Conor tell us why the Almighty invented a system which forces hiscreatures to break laws of His own making?

  "Don't waste your time on him, Alice," said the Colonel, kindly; "heisn't worth the rope that'll hang him."

  "He was bleeding to death; unless he has care he'll die," said theoctoroon woman.

  "Then let him die, d---- him," replied the Colonel, advancing to wherethe overseer lay, and bending down to satisfy himself of his condition.

  Meanwhile more than two hundred dusky forms crowded around and filledevery opening of the old building. Every conceivable emotion, exceptpity, was depicted on their dark faces. The same individuals whosecloudy visages a half hour before I had seen distended with a wild mirthan
d careless jollity, that made me think them really the docile,good-natured animals they are said to be, now glared on the prostrateoverseer with the infuriated rage of aroused beasts when springing ontheir prey.

  "You can't come the possum here. Get up, you ---- hound," said theColonel, rising and striking the bleeding man with his foot.

  The fellow raised himself on one elbow and gazed around with a stupid,vacant look. His eye wandered unsteadily for a moment from the Colonelto the throng of cloudy faces in the doorway; then, his recentexperience flashing upon him, he shrieked out, clinging wildly to theskirts of the octoroon woman, who was standing near, "Keep off themcursed hounds--keep them off, I say--they'll kill me! they'll kill me!"

  One glance satisfied me that his mind was wandering. The blow on thehead had shattered his reason, and made the strong man less than achild.

  "You wont be killed yet," said the Colonel. "You've a small account tosettle with me before you reckon with the devil."

  At this moment the dark crowd in the doorway parted, and Jake entered,his arm bound up and in a sling.

  "Jake, come here," said the Colonel; "this man would have killed you.What shall we do with him?"

  "'Taint for a darky to say dat, massa," said the negro, evidentlyunaccustomed to the rude administration of justice which the Colonelwas about to inaugurate; "he did wuss dan dat to Sam, massa--he orterswing for shootin' him."

  "That's _my_ affair; we'll settle your account first," replied theColonel.

  The darky looked undecidedly at his master, and then at the overseer,who, overcome by weakness, had sunk again to the floor. The littlehumanity in him was evidently struggling with his hatred of Moye and hisdesire for revenge, when the old nurse yelled out from among the crowd,"Gib him fifty lashes, Massa Davy, and den you wash him down.[H] Be aman, Jake, and say dat."

  Jake still hesitated, and when at last he was about to speak, the eye ofthe octoroon caught his, and chained the words to his tongue, as if bymagnetic power.

  "Do you say that, boys;" said the Colonel, turning to the other negroes;"shall he have fifty lashes?"

  "Yas, massa, fifty lashes--gib de ole debble fifty lashes," shoutedabout fifty voices.

  "He shall have them," quietly said the master.

  The mad shout that followed, which was more like the yell of demons thanthe cry of men, seemed to arouse Moye to a sense of his real position.Springing to his feet, he gazed wildly around; then, sinking on hisknees before the octoroon, and clutching the folds of her dress, heshrieked, "Save me, good lady, save me! as you hope for mercy, save me!"

  Not a muscle of her face moved, but, turning to the excited crowd, shemildly said, "Fifty lashes would kill him. _Jake_ does not saythat--your master leaves it to him, and _he_ will not whip a dyingman--will you, Jake?"

  "No, ma'am--not--not ef you gwo agin it," replied the negro, with veryevident reluctance.

  "But he whipped Sam, ma'am, when Sam war nearer dead than _he_ am," saidJim, whose station as house-servant allowed him a certain freedom ofspeech.

  "Because he was brutal to Sam, should you be brutal to him? Can youexpect me to tend you when you are sick, if you beat a dying man? DoesPompey say you should do such things?"

  "No, good ma'am," said the old preacher, stepping out, with the freedomof an old servant, from the black mass, and taking his stand beside mein the open space left for the "w'ite folks;" "de ole man dusn't saydat, ma'am; he tell 'em dat de Lord want 'em to forgib dar en'mies--tolub dem dat pursyskute 'em;" and, turning to the Colonel, he added, ashe passed his hand meekly over his thin crop of white wool and threw hislong heel back, "ef massa'll 'low me I'll talk to 'em."

  "Fire away," said the Colonel, with evident chagrin. "This is a niggertrial; if you want to screen the d---- hound you can do it."

  "I dusn't want to screed him, massa, but I'se bery ole and got soon togwo, and I dusn't want de blessed Lord to ax me wen I gets dar why I'lowed dese pore ig'nant brack folks to mudder a man 'fore my beryface. I toted you, massa, 'fore you cud gwo, I'se worked for you till Ican't work no more; and I dusn't want to tell de Lord dat _my_ massa leta brudder man be killed in cole blood."

  "He is no brother of mine, you old fool; preach to the nigs, don'tpreach to me," said the Colonel, stifling his displeasure, and stridingoff through the black crowd, without saying another word.

  Here and there in the dark mass a face showed signs of relenting; butmuch the larger number of that strange jury, had the question been put,would have voted--DEATH.

  The old preacher turned to them as the Colonel passed out, and said, "Mychil'ren, would you hab dis man whipped, so weak, so dyin' as he am, efhe war brack?"

  "No, not ef he war a darky--fer den he wouldn't be such an ole debble,"replied Jim, and about a dozen of the other negroes.

  "De w'ite aint no wuss dan de brack--we'm all 'like--pore sinners all onus. De Lord wudn't whip a w'ite man no sooner dan a brack one--He tinksde w'ite juss so good as de brack (good Southern doctrine, I thought).De porest w'ite trash wudn't strike a man wen he war down."

  "We'se had 'nough of dis, ole man," said a large, powerful negro (one ofthe drivers), stepping forward, and, regardless of the presence of MadamP---- and myself, pressing close to where the overseer lay, now totallyunconscious of what was passing around him. "You needn't preach no more;de Cunnel hab say we'm to whip ole Moye, and we'se gwine to do it,by ----."

  I felt my fingers closing on the palm of my hand, and in a second morethey might have cut the darky's profile, had not Madam P---- cried out,"Stand back, you impudent fellow: say another word, and I'll have youwhipped on the spot."

  "De Cunnel am my massa, ma'am--_he_ say ole Moye am to be whipped, andI'se gwine to do it--shore."

  I have seen a storm at sea--I have seen the tempest tear up greattrees--I have seen the lightning strike in a dark night--but I never sawany thing half so grand, half so terrible, as the glance and tone ofthat woman as she cried out, "Jim, take this man--give him fifty lashesthis instant."

  Quicker than thought, a dozen darkies were on him. His hands and feetwere tied and he was under the whipping-rack in a second. Turning thento the other negroes, the brave woman said, "Some of you carry Moye tothe house, and you, Jim, see to this man--if fifty lashes don't make himsorry, give him fifty more."

  This summary change of programme was silently acquiesced in by theassembled negroes, but many a cloudy face scowled sulkily on theoctoroon, as, leaning on my arm, she followed Junius and the othernegroes, who bore Moye to the mansion. It was plain that under thosedark faces a fire was burning that a breath would have fanned into aflame.

  We entered the house by its rear door, and placed Moye in a small roomon the ground floor. He was laid on a bed, and stimulants being givenhim, his senses and reason shortly returned. His eyes opened, and hisreal position seemed suddenly to flash upon him, for he turned to MadamP----, and in a weak voice, half choked with emotion, faltered out: "MayGod in heaven bless ye, ma'am; God _will_ bless ye for bein' so good toa wicked man like me. I doesn't desarve it, but ye woant leave me--yewoant leave me--they'll kill me ef ye do!"

  "Don't fear," said the Madam; "you shall have a fair trial. No harmshall come to you here."

  "Thank ye, thank ye," gasped the overseer, raising himself on one arm,and clutching at the lady's hand, which he tried to lift to his lips.

  "Don't say any more now," said Madam P----, quietly; "you must rest andbe quiet, or you wont get well."

  "Shan't I get well? Oh, I can't die--I can't die _now_!"

  The lady made a soothing reply, and giving him an opiate, and arrangingthe bedding so that he might rest more easily, she left the room withme.

  As we stepped into the hall, I saw through the front door, which wasopen, the horses harnessed in readiness for "meeting," and the Colonelpacing to and fro on the piazza, smoking a cigar. He perceived us, andhalted in the doorway.

  "So you've brought that d---- bloodthirsty villain into my house!" hesaid to Madam P---- in a tone of strong displeasure.


  "How could I help it? The negroes are mad, and would kill him anywhereelse," replied the lady, with a certain self-confidence that showed sheknew her power over the Colonel.

  "Why should _you_ interfere between them and him? Has he not insultedyou enough to make you let him alone? Can you so easily forgive histaunting you with"--He did not finish the sentence, but what I hadlearned on the previous evening from the old nurse gave me a clue to itsmeaning. A red flame flushed the face and neck of the octoroonwoman--her eyes literally flashed fire, and her very breath seemed tocome with pain; in a moment, however, this emotion passed away, and shequietly said, "Let me settle that in my own way. He has served _you_well--_you_ have nothing against him that the law will not punish."

  "By ----, you are the most unaccountable woman I ever knew," exclaimedthe Colonel, striding up and down the piazza, the angry feeling passingfrom his face, and giving way to a mingled expression of wonder andadmiration. The conversation was here interrupted by Jim, who just thenmade his appearance, hat in hand.

  "Well, Jim, what is it?" asked his master.

  "We'se gib'n Sam twenty lashes, ma'am, but he beg so hard, and say he sosorry, dat I tole him I'd ax you 'fore we gabe him any more."

  "Well, if he's sorry, that's enough; but tell him he'll get fiftyanother time," said the lady.

  "What Sam is it?" asked the Colonel.

  "Big Sam, the driver," said Jim.

  "Why was he whipped?"

  "He told me _you_ were his master, and insisted on whipping Moye,"replied the lady.

  "Did he dare to do that? Give him a hundred, Jim, not one less," roaredthe Colonel.

  "Yas, massa," said Jim, turning to go.

  The lady looked significantly at the negro and shook her head, but saidnothing, and he left.

  "Come, Alice, it is nearly time for meeting, and I want to stop and seeSandy on the way."

  "I reckon I wont go," said Madam P----.

  "You stay to take care of Moye, I suppose," said the Colonel, with aslight sneer.

  "Yes," replied the lady, "he is badly hurt, and in danger ofinflammation."

  "Well, suit yourself. Mr. K----, come, _we'll_ go--you'll meet some ofthe _natives_."

  The lady retired to the house, and the Colonel and I were soon ready.The driver brought the horses to the door, and as we were about to enterthe carriage, I noticed Jim taking his accustomed seat on the box.

  "Who's looking after Sam?" asked the Colonel.

  "Nobody, Cunnel; de ma'am leff him gwo."

  "How dare you disobey me? Didn't I tell you to give him a hundred?"

  "Yas, massa, but de ma'am tole me notter."

  "Well, another time you mind what _I_ say--do you hear?" said hismaster.

  "Yas, massa," said the negro, with a broad grin, "I allers do dat."

  "You _never_ do it, you d---- nigger; I ought to have flogged you longago."

  Jim said nothing, but gave a quiet laugh, showing no sort of fear, andwe entered the carriage. I afterward learned from him that he had neverbeen whipped, and that all the negroes on the plantation obeyed the ladywhen, which was seldom, her orders came in conflict with their master's.They knew if they did not, the Colonel would whip them.

  As we rode slowly along the Colonel said to me, "Well, you see that thebest people have to flog niggers sometimes."

  "Yes, _I_ should have given that fellow a hundred lashes, at least. Ithink the effect on the others would have been bad if Madam P---- hadnot had him flogged."

  "But she generally goes against it. I don't remember of her having itdone in ten years before. And yet, though I've the worst gang of niggersin the district, they obey her like so many children."

  "Why is that?"

  "Well, there's a kind of magnetism about her that makes everybody loveher; and then she tends them in sickness, and is constantly doing littlethings for their comfort; _that_ attaches them to her. She is anextraordinary woman."

  "Whose negroes are those, Colonel?" I asked, as, after a while, wepassed a gang of about a dozen, at work near the roadside. Some weretending a tar-kiln, and some engaged in cutting into fire-wood the pineswhich a recent tornado had thrown to the ground.

  "They are mine, but they are working now for themselves. I let such aswill, work on Sunday. I furnish the "raw material," and pay them forwhat they do, as I would a white man."

  "Wouldn't it be better to make them go to hear the old preacher;couldn't they learn something from him?"

  "Not much; Old Pomp never read any thing but the Bible, and he doesn'tunderstand that; besides, they can't be taught. You can't make 'awhistle out of a pig's tail;' you can't make a nigger into a white man."

  Just here the carriage stopped suddenly, and we looked out to see thecause. The road by which we had come was a mere opening through thepines; no fences separated it from the wooded land, and being seldomtravelled, the track was scarcely visible. In many places it widened toa hundred feet, but in others tall trees had grown up on its oppositesides, leaving scarcely width enough for a single carriage to passalong. In one of these narrow passages, just before us, a queer-lookingvehicle had upset, and scattered its contents in the road. We had noalternative but to wait till it got out of the way; and we all alightedto reconnoitre.

  The vehicle was a little larger than an ordinary handcart, and wasmounted on wheels that had probably served their time on a Boston draybefore commencing their travels in Secessiondom. Its box of pineboarding and its shafts of rough oak poles were evidently of Southernhome manufacture. Attached to it by a rope harness, with a primitivebridle of decidedly original construction, was--not a horse, nor a mule,nor even an alligator, but a "three-year-old heifer."

  The wooden linch-pin of the cart had given way, and the weight of ahalf-dozen barrels of turpentine had thrown the box off its balance, androlled the contents about in all directions.

  The appearance of the proprietor of this nondescript vehicle was inkeeping with his establishment. His coat, which was much too short inthe waist and much too long in the skirts, was of the common reddishgray linsey, and his nether garments, which stopped just below theknees, were of the same material. From there downwards, he wore only thecovering that is said to have been the fashion in Paradise before Adamtook to fig-leaves. His hat had a rim broader than a political platform,and his skin a color half way between tobacco-juice and a tallowcandle.

  "Wal, Cunnul, how dy'ge?" said the stranger, as we stepped from thecarriage.

  "Very well, Ned; how are you?"

  "Purty wal, Cunnul; had the nagur lately, right smart, but'm gittin''roun'."

  "You're in a bad fix here, I see. Can Jim help you?"

  "Wal, p'raps he moight. Jim, how dy'ge?"

  "Sort o' smart, ole feller. But come, stir yerseff; we want ter gwo'long," replied Jim, with a lack of courtesy that showed he regarded thewhite man as altogether too "trashy" to be treated with much ceremony.

  With the aid of Jim, a new linch-pin was soon whittled out, theturpentine rolled on to the cart, and the vehicle put in a movingcondition.

  "Where are you hauling your turpentine?" asked the Colonel.

  "To Sam Bell's, at the 'Boro'."

  "What will he pay you?"

  "Wal, I've four barr'ls of 'dip,' and tu of 'hard.' For the hull, Ireckon he'll give three dollar a barr'l."

  "By tale?"

  "No, for tu hun'red and eighty pound."

  "Well, _I'll_ give you two dollars and a half, by weight."

  "Can't take it, Cunnel; must get three dollar."

  "What, will you go sixty miles with this team, and waste five or sixdays, for fifty cents on six barrels--three dollars!"

  "Can't 'ford the time, Cunnel, but must git three dollar a barr'l."

  "That fellow is a specimen of our 'natives,'" said the Colonel, as weresumed our seats in the carriage. "You'll see more of them before weget back to the plantation."

  "He puts a young cow to a decidedly original use," I remarked.

  "Oh no, not original here; the ox and the
cow with us are both used forlabor."

  "You don't mean to say that cows are generally worked here?"

  "Of course I do. Our breeds are good for nothing as milkers, and we putthem to the next best use. I never have cow's milk on my plantation."

  "You don't! I could have sworn it was in my coffee this morning."

  "I wouldn't trust you to buy brandy for me, if your organs of taste arenot keener than that. It was goat's milk."

  "Then how do you get your butter?"

  "From the North. I've had mine from my New York factors for over tenyears."

  We soon arrived at Sandy, the negro-hunter's, and halted to allow theColonel to inquire as to the health of his family of children anddogs--the latter the less numerous, but, if I might judge byappearances, the more valued of the two.

  [Footnote G: The negro-whippers and field overseers.]

  [Footnote H: Referring to the common practice of bathing the raw andbleeding backs of the punished slaves with a strong solution of saltand water.]