The old man received it with compliments to his master, pouring it into a black jug in which there was both tansy and garlic, highly recommending it as a “bitters” and certain antidote for worms, for which purpose he and the old woman took of it as long as it lasted, though neither had been troubled with that particular disease since the days of their childhood.
“Wat de gwine do wid yeh meh son?” enquired Mammy Judy as Henry entered the kitchen.
“Sell me to the soul-drivers! what else would they do?”
“Yeh gwin ’tay ‘bout till de git yeh?”
“I shant move a step! and let them do their——”
“Maus wants to see yeh in da front house, Henry,” interrupted Ailcey, he immediately obeying the summons.
“Heah dat now!” said mammy Judy, as Henry followed the maid out of the kitchen.
“Carry this note, sir, directly to Captain Jack Harris!” ordered Franks, handing to Henry a sealed note. Receiving it, he bowed politely, going out of the front door, directly to the slave prison of Harris.
“Eh heh! I see,” said Harris on opening the note, “Colonel Frank’s boy; walk in here,” passing through the office into a room which proved to be the first department of the slave prison. “No common Negro, I see! You’re a shade higher. A pretty deep shade too! Can read, write, cipher; a good religious fellow, and has a Christian and sir name. The devil you say! Who’s your father? Can you preach?”
“I have never tried,” was the only reply.
“Have you ever been a member of Congress?” continued Harris with ridicule.
To this Henry made no reply.
“Wont answer, hey! Beneath your dignity. I understand that you’re of that class of gentry who dont speak to common folks! You’re not quite well enough dressed for a gentleman of your cloth. Here! Mr. Henry, I’ll present you with a set of ruffles: give yourself no trouble sir, as I’ll dress you! I’m here for that purpose,” said Harris, fastening upon the wrists of the manly bondman a heavy pair of handcuffs.
“You hurt my wrist!” admonished Henry.
“New clothing will be a little tight when first put on. Now sir!” continued the trader, taking him to the back door and pointing into the yard at the slave gang there confined. “As you have been respectably dressed, walk out and enjoy yourself among the ladies and gentlemen there; you’ll find them quite a select company.”
Shortly after this the sound of the bellringer’s voice was heard–a sound which usually spread terror among the slaves: “Will be sold this afternoon at three o’clock by public outcry, at the slave prison of Captain John Harris, a likely choice Negro fellow, the best trained body servant in the state, trained to the business by the most accomplished lady and gentleman Negro-trainers in the Mississippi Valley. Sale positive without a proviso.”
“Dah, dah! Did’n eh tell yeh so? Ole man, ole man! heah dat now! Come heah. Dat jis what I been tellin on im, but ’e uden bleve me!” ejaculated old Mammy Judy on hearing the bell ring and the handbill read.
Falling upon their knees, the two old slaves prayed fervently to God, thanking him that it was as “well with them” as it was.
“Bless de Laud! My soul is happy!” cried out Mammy Judy being overcome with devotion, clapping her hands.
“Tang God, fah wat I feels in my soul!” responded Daddy Joe.
Rising from their knees with tears trickling down their cheeks, the old slaves endeavored to ease their troubled souls by singing,
Oh, when shall my sorrows subside,
And when shall my troubles be ended;
And when to the bosom of Christ be conveyed,
To the mansions of joy and bliss;
To the mansions of joy and bliss!
“Wuhthy to be praise! Blessed be de name uh de Laud! Po’ black folks, de Laud o’ny knows sats t’ come ob us!” exclaimed Mammy Judy.
“Look to de Laud ole umin, ’e’s able t’ bah us out mo’ neh conkeh. Keep de monin’ stah in sight!” advised Daddy Joe.
“Yes, ole man, yes, dat I done dis many long day, an’ ah ain’ gwine lose sight uh it now! No, God bein’ my helpeh, I is gwine keep my eyes right on it, dat I is!”
As the hour of three drew near, many there were going in the direction of the slave prison, a large number of persons having assembled at the sale.
“Draw near, gentlemen, draw near!” cried Harris. “The hour of sale is arrived: a positive sale with no proviso, cash down, or no sale at all!” A general laugh succeeded the introduction of the auctioneer.
“Come up here my lad!” continued the auctioneer, wielding a long red rawhide. “Mount this block, stand beside me, an’ let’s see which is the best looking man! We have met before, but I never had the pleasure of introducing you. Gentlemen one and all, I take pleasure in introducing to you Henry-pardon me, sir-Mr. Henry Holland, I believe–am I right, sir?-Mr. Henry Holland, a good looking fellow you will admit.
“I am offered one thousand dollars; one thousand dollars for the best looking Negro in all Mississippi! If all the negro boys in the state was as good looking as him, I’d give two thousand dollars for ’em all myself!” This caused another laugh. “Who’ll give me one thousand five——”
Just then a shower of rain came on.
“Gentlemen!” exclaimed the auctioneer. “Without a place can be obtained large enough to shelter the people here assembled, the sale will have to be postponed. This is a proviso we couldn’t foresee, an’ therefore is not responsible for it.” There was another hearty laugh.
A whisper went through the crowd, when presently a gentleman came forward, saying that those concerned had kindly tendered the use of the church which stood nearby, in which to continue the sale.
“Here we are again, gentlemen! Who bids five hundred more for the likely Negro fellow? I am offered fifteen hundred dollars for the finest Negro servant in the state! Come, my boy, bestir yourself an’ don’t stan’ there like a statute; can’t you give us a jig? whistle us a song! I forgot, the Negro fellow is religious; by the by, an excellent recommendation, gentlemen. Perhaps he’ll give us a sermon. Say, git up there old fellow, an’ hold forth. Can’t you give us a sermon on Abolition? I’m only offered fifteen hundred dollars for the likely Negro boy! Fifteen, sixteen, sixteen hundred, just agoing at–eighteen, eighteen, nineteen hundred, nineteen hundred! Just agoing at nineteen hundred dollars for the best body servant in the state; just agoing at nineteen and without a better bid I’ll–Going! Going! Go—!”
Just at this point a note was passed up the aisle to the auctioneer, who after reading it said, “Gentlemen! Circumstances beyond my control make it necessary that the sale be postponed until one day next week; the time of continuance will be duly announced,” when, bowing, he left the stand.
“That’s another proviso not in the original bill!” exclaimed a voice as the auctioneer left the stand, at which there were peals of laughter.
To secure himself against contingency, Harris immediately delivered Henry over to Franks.
There were present at the sale, Crow, Slider, Walker, Borbridge, Simpson, Hurst, Spangler and Williams, all noted slave traders, eager to purchase, some on their return home, and some with their gangs en route for the Southern markets.
The note handed the auctioneer read thus:
CAPT. HARRIS:–Having learned that there are private individuals at the sale, who design purchasing my Negro man, Harry, for his own personal advantage, you will peremptorily postpone the sale–making such apology as the occasion demands–and effect a private sale with Richard Crow, Esq., who offers me two thousand dollars for him. Let the boy return to me. Believe me to be,
Very Respectfully,
STEPHEN FRANKS
Capt. John Harris
Natchez, Nov. 29th, 1852.
“Now, sir,” said Franks to Henry, who had barely reached the house from the auction block, “take this pass and go to Jackson and Woodville, or anywhere else you wish to see your friends, so that you be back against Monday aftern
oon. I ordered a postponement of the sale, thinking that I would try you awhile longer, as I never had cause before to part with you. Now see if you can’t be a better boy!”
Eagerly taking the note, thanking him with a low bow, turning away, Henry opened the paper, which read:
Permit the bearer my boy Henry, sometimes calling himself Henry Holland–a kind of negro pride he has–to pass and repass wherever he wants to go, he behaving himself properly.
STEPHEN FRANKS
To all whom it may concern.
Natchez, Nov. 29th, 1852.
Carefully depositing the charte volante in his pocket wallet, Henry quietly entered the hut [2] of Mammy Judy and Daddy Joe.
CHAPTER 9
The Runaway
“De Laud’s good–bless his name!” exclaimed Mammy Judy wringing her hands as Henry entered their hut. “ ’e heahs de prahs ob ’is chilen. Yeh hab reason t’ tang God yeh is heah dis day!”
“Yes Henry, see wat de Laud’s done fah yeh. Tis true’s I’s heah dis day! Tang God fah dat!” added Daddy Joe.
“I think,” replied he, after listening with patience to the old people, “I have reason to thank our Ailcey and Van Winter’s Biddy; they, it seems to me, should have some credit in the matter.”
“Sho boy, g’long whah yeh gwine! Yo’ backslidin’ gwine git yeh in trouble ghin eh reckon?” replied Mammy Judy.
Having heard the conversation between her mistress and Henry, Ailcey, as a secret, informed Van Winter’s Derba, who informed her fellow servant Biddy, who imparted it to her acquaintance Nelly, the slave of esquire Potter, Nelly informing her mistress, who told the ’Squire, who led Franks into the secret of the whole matter.
“Mus’n blame me, Henry!” said Ailcey in an undertone. “I did’n mean de wite folks to know wat I tole Derba, nor she di’n mean it nuther, but dat devil, Pottah’s Nell! us gals mean da fus time we ketch uh out, to duck uh in da rivah! She’s rale wite folk’s nigga, dat’s jus’ wat she is. Nevah mine, we’ll ketch her yit!”
“I don’t blame you Ailcey, nor either of Mrs. Van Winter’s girls, as I know that you are my friends, neither of whom would do anything knowingly to injure me. I know Ailcey that you are a good girl, and believe you would tell me——”
“Yes Henry, I is yo’ fren’ an’ come to tell yeh now wat da wite folks goin’ to do.”
“What is it Ailcey; what do you know?”
“Wy dat ugly ole devil Dick Crow–God fah gim me! But I hate ’im so, case he nothin’ but po’ wite man, no how-I know ’im he come from Fagina on——”
“Never mind his origin, Ailcey, tell me what you know concerning his visit in the house.”
“I is goin’ to, but da ugly ole devil, I hates ’im so! Maus Stephen had ’im in da pahla, an’ ’e sole yeh to ’im, dat ugly ole po’ wite devil, fah–God knows how much–a hole heap a money; ‘two’ somethin.”
“I know what it was, two thousand dollars, for that was his selling price to Jack Harris.”
“Yes, dat was da sum, Henry.”
“I am satisfied as to how much he can be relied on. Even was I to take the advice of the old people here, and become reconciled to drag out a miserable life of degradation and bondage under them, I would not be permitted to do so by this man, who seeks every opportunity to crush out my lingering manhood, and reduce my free spirit to the submission of a slave. He cannot do it, I will not submit to it, and I defy his power to make me submit.”
“Laus a messy, Henry, yeh free man! huccum yeh not tell me long’o? Sho boy, bettah go long whah yeh gwine, out yandah, an’ not fool long wid wite folks!” said Mammy Judy with surprise, “wat bring yeh heah anyhow?”
“That’s best known to myself, mammy.”
“Wat make yeh keep heah so long den, dat yeh ain’ gone fo’ dis?”
“Your questions become rather pressing, mammy; I can’t tell you that either.”
“Laud, Laud, Laud! So yeh free man? Well, well, well!”
“Once for all, I now tell you old people what I never told you before, nor never expected to tell you under such circumstances; that I never intend to serve any white man again. I’ll die first!”
“De Laud a’ messy on my po’ soul! An’ huccum yeh not gone befo’?”
“Carrying out the principles and advice of you old people ‘standing still, to see the salvation.’ But with me, ‘now is the accepted time, today is the day of salvation.’ ”
“Well, well, well!” sighed Mammy Judy.
“I am satisfied that I am sold, and the wretch who did it seeks to conceal his perfidy by deception. Now if ever you old people did anything in your lives, you must do it now.”
“Wat dat yeh want wid us?”
“Why, if you’ll go, I’ll take you on Saturday night, and make our escape to a free country.”
“Wat place yeh call dat?”
“Canada!” replied Henry, with emotion.
“How fah yeh gwine take me?” earnestly enquired the old woman.
“I can’t just now tell the distance, probably some two or three thousand miles from here, the way we’d have to go.”
“De Laus a messy on me! An’ wat yeh gwine do wid little Joe; ain gwine leave ’im behine?”
“No, Mammy Judy, I’d bury him in the bottom of the river first! I intend carrying him in a bundle on my back, as the Indians carry their babies.”
“Wat yeh gwine do fah money; yeh ain’ gwine rob folks on de road?”
“No mammy, I’ll starve first. Have you and Daddy Joe saved nothing from your black-eye peas and poultry selling for many years?”
“Ole man, how much in dat pot undeh de fio’ dah; how long since yeh count it?”
“Don’o,” replied Daddy Joe, “las’ time ah count it, da wah faughty guinea* uh sich a mauttah, an’ ah put in some six-seven guinea mo’ since dat.”
“Then you have some two hundred and fifty dollars in money.”
“Dat do yeh?” enquired Mammy Judy.
“Yes, that of itself is enough, but——”
“Den take it an’ go long whah yeh gwine; we ole folks too ole fah gwine headlong out yandah an’ don’o whah we gwine. Sho boy! take de money an’ g’long!” decisively replied the old woman after all her inquisitiveness.
“If you don’t know, I do, mammy, and that will answer for all.”
“Dat ain’ gwine do us. We ole folks ain’ politishon an’ undestan’ de graumma uh dese places, an’ w’en we git dah den maybe do’n like it an cahn’ git back. Sho chile, so long whah yeh gwine!”
“What do you say, Daddy Joe? Whatever you have to say, must be said quick, as time with me is precious.”
“We is too ole dis time a day, chile, t’go way out yauah de Laud knows whah; bettah whah we is.”
“You’ll not be too old to go if these whites once take a notion to sell you. What will you do then?”
“Trus’ to de Laud!”
“Yes, the same old slave song–‘Trust to the Lord.’ Then I must go, and——”
“Ain’ yeh gwine take de money, Henry?” interrupted the old woman.
“No, mammy, since you will not go, I leave it for you and Daddy Joe, as you may yet have use for it, or those may desire to use it who better understand what use to make of it than you and Daddy Joe seem willing to be instructed in.”
“Den yeh ’ont have de money?”
“I thank you and Daddy most kindly, Mammy Judy, for your offer, and only refuse because I have two hundred guineas about me.”
“Sho boy, yeh got all dat, no call t’want dat little we got. Whah yeh git all dat money? Do’n reckon yeh gwine tell me! Did’n steal from maus Stephen, do’n reckon?”
“No, mammy, I’m incapable of stealing from any one, but I have, from time to time, taken by littles, some of the earnings due me for more than eighteen years’ service to this man Franks, which at the low rate of two hundred dollars a year, would amount to sixteen hundred dollars more than I secured, exclusive of the interest, which would have m
ore than supplied my clothing, to say nothing of the injury done me by degrading me as a slave. ‘Steal’ indeed! I would that when I had an opportunity, I had taken fifty thousand instead of two. I am to understand you old people as positively declining to go, am I?”
“No, no, chile, we cahn go! We put ouh trus’ in de Laud, he bring us out mo’ nah conkah.”
“Then from this time hence, I become a runaway. Take care of my poor boy while he’s with you. When I leave the swamps, or where I’ll go, will never be known to you. Should my boy be suddenly missed, and you find three notches cut in the bark of the big willow tree, on the side away from your hut, then give yourself no uneasiness; but if you don’t find these notches in the tree, then I know nothing about him. Goodbye!” And Henry strode directly for the road to Woodville.
“Fahwell me son, fahwell, an’ may God a’mighty go wid you! May de Laud guide an’ ’tect yeh on de way!”
The child, contrary to his custom, commenced crying, desiring to see Mamma Maggie and Dadda Henry. Every effort to quiet him was unavailing. This brought sorrow to the old people’s hearts and tears to their eyes, which they endeavored to soothe in a touching lamentation:
See wives and husbands torn apart,
Their children’s screams, they grieve my heart.
They are torn away to Georgia!
Come and go along with me–
They are torn away to Georgia!
Go sound the Jubilee!
*“Guinea” with the slave, is a five-dollar gold piece.
CHAPTER 10
Merry Making
The day is Saturday, a part of which is given by many liberal masters to their slaves, the afternoon being spent as a holiday, or in vending such little marketable commodities as they might by chance possess.
As a token of gratitude, it is customary in many parts of the South for the slaves to invite their masters to their entertainments. This evening presented such an occasion on the premises of Colonel Stephen Franks.
This day Mammy Judy was extremely busy, for in addition to the responsibility of the culinary department, there was her calico habit to be done up–she would not let Potter’s Milly look any better than herself–and an old suit of the young master George’s clothes had to be patched and darned a little before little Joe could favorably compare with Craig’s Sooky’s little Dick. And the cast-off linen given to her husband for the occasion might require a “little doing up.”
Blake or The Huts of America Page 6
