Blake or The Huts of America

by Martin R. Delany

  “Wat missus sen’ dis shut heah wid de bres all full dis debilment an’ nonsense fah?” said Mammy Judy, holding up the garment, looking at the ruffles. “Sho! Missus mus’ be crack, sen’ dis heah! Ole man ain’ gwine sen’ he soul to de ole boy puttin’ on dis debilment!” And she hastened away with the shirt, stating to her mistress her religious objections. Mrs. Franks smiled as she took the garment, telling her that the objections could be easily removed by taking off the ruffles.

  “Dat look sumphen like!” remarked the old woman, when Ailcey handed her the shirt with the ruffles removed.

  “Sen’ dat debilment an’ nonsense heah! Sho!” And carrying it away smiling, she laid it upon the bed.

  The feast of the evening was such as Mammy Judy was capable of preparing when in her best humor, consisting of all the delicacies usually served up on the occasion of corn huskings in the grain-growing region.

  Conscious that he was not entitled to their gratitude, Colonel Franks declined to honor the entertainment, though the invitation was a ruse to deceive him, as he had attempted to deceive them.

  The evening brought with it much of life’s variety, as may be seen among the slave population of the South. There were Potter’s slaves, and the people of Mrs. Van Winter, also those of Major Craig, and Dr. Denny, all dressed neatly, and seemingly very happy.

  Ailcey was quite the pride of the evening, in an old gauze orange dress of her mistress, and felt that she deserved to be well thought of, as proving herself the friend of Henry, the son-in-law of Daddy Joe and Mammy Judy, the heads of the entertainment. Mammy Judy and Potter’s Milly were both looking matronly in their calico gowns and towlinen aprons, and Daddy Joe was the honored and observed of the party, in an old black suit with an abundance of surplus.

  “He’p yeh se’f, chilen!” said Mammy Judy, after the table had been blessed by Daddy Joe. “Henry ain’ gwine be heah, ’e gone to Woodville uh some whah dah, kick’n up ’e heel. Come, chilen, eat haughty, mo’ whah dis come Tom. He’p yeh se’f now do’n——”

  “I is, Aun’ Judy; I likes dis heah kine a witals!” drawled out Potter’s Nelse, reaching over for the fifth or sixth time. “Dis am good shaut cake!”

  “O mammy, look at Jilson!” exclaimed Ailcey, as a huge, rough field hand–who refused to go to the table with the company, but sat sulkily by himself in one corner–was just walking away, with two whole “cakes” of bread under his arm.

  “Wat yeh gwine do wid dat bread, Jilson?” enquired the old woman.

  “I gwine eat it, dat wat I gwine do wid it! I ain’ had no w’eat bread dis two hauvest!” he having come from Virginia, where such articles of food on harvest occasion were generally allowed the slave.

  “Big hog, so ’e is!” rebukingly said Ailcey, when she saw that Jilson was determined in his purpose.

  “Nebeh mine dat childen, plenty mo!” responded Mammy Judy.

  “Ole umin, dat chile in de way dah; de gals haudly tu’n roun,” suggested Daddy Joe, on seeing the pallet of little Joe crowded upon as the girls were leaving the table, seating themselves around the room.

  “Ailcey, my chile, jes’ run up to de hut wid ’im, ’an lay ’im in de bed; ef yeh fuhd, Van Wintah’ Ben go wid yeh; ah knows ’e likes to go wid de gals,” said Mammy Judy.

  Taking up his hat with a bland smile, Ben obeyed orders without a demur.

  The entertainment was held at the extreme end of a two-acre lot in the old slave quarters, while the hut of Mammy Judy was near the great house. Ailcey thought she espied a person retreat into the shrubbery and, startled, she went to the back door of the hut, but Ben hooted at the idea of any person out and about on such an occasion, except indeed it was Jilson with his bread. The child being carefully placed in bed, Ailcey and her protector were soon mingled with the merry slaves.

  There were three persons generally quite prominent among the slaves of the neighborhood, missed on this occasion; Franks’ Charles, Denny’s Sam, and Potter’s Andy; Sam being confined to bed by sickness.

  “Ailcey, whah’s Chaules–huccum ’e not heah?” enquired Mammy Judy.

  “Endeed, I dun’o mammy.”

  “Huccum Pottah’s Andy ain’ heah muddah?”

  “Andy a’ home tonight, Aun’ Judy, an’ uh dun’o whah ’e is,” replied Winny.

  “Gone headlong out yandah, arteh no good, uh doh reckon, an’ Chaules ’e gone dah too,” replied the old woman.

  “Da ain’ nothin’ mattah wid dis crowd, Aun’ Judy,” complimented Nelse as he sat beside Derba. At this expression Mammy Judy gave a deep sigh, on the thought of her absent daughter.

  “Come, chilen,” suggested Mammy Judy, “yeh all eat mighty hauty, an’ been mighty merry, an’ ’joy yehse’f much; we now sing praise to de Laud fah wat ’e done fah us,” raising a hymn in which all earnestly joined:

  Oh! Jesus, Jesus is my friend,

  He’ll be my helper to the end, . . .

  “Young folk, yeh all bettah git ready now an’ go, fo’ de patrollas come out. Yeh all ’joy yeh se’f much, now time yeh gone. Hope yeh all sauv God Sunday. Ole man fo’ de all gone, hab wud uh prati,” advised the old woman; the following being sung in conclusion:

  The Lord is here, and the Lord is all around us;

  Canaan, Canaan’s a very happy home–

  O, glory! O, glory! O, glory! God is here,

  when the gathering dispersed, the slaves going cheerfully to their homes.

  “Come ole man, yeh got mautch? light sum dem shavens dah, quick. Ah cah fine de chile heah on dis bed!” said Mammy Judy, on entering the hut and feeling about in the dark for little Joe. “Ailcey, wat yeh done wid de chile?”

  “E’s dah, Mammy Judy, I lain ’im on de bed, ah spose ’e roll off.”

  The shavings being lit, here was no child to be found.

  “My Laud, ole man! whah’s de chile? Wat dis mean! O, whah’s my po’ chile gone; my po’ baby!” exclaimed Mammy Judy, wringing her hands in distress.

  “Stay, ole ’umin! De tree! De tree!” When, going out in the dark, feeling the trunk of the willow, three notches in the bark were distinct to the touch.

  “Ole ’umin!” exclaimed Daddy Joe in a suppressed voice, hastening into the hut. “It am he, it am Henry got ’im!”

  “Tang God, den my po’ baby safe!” responded Mammy Judy, when they raised their voices in praise of thankfulness:

  ‘O, who’s like Jesus!

  Hallelujah! praise ye the Lord;

  O, who’s like Jesus!

  Hallelujah! love and serve the Lord!’

  Falling upon their knees, the old man offered an earnest, heartful prayer to God, asking his guardianship through the night, and protection through the day, especially upon their heartbroken daughter, their runaway son-in-law, and the little grandson, when the two old people retired to rest with spirits mingled with joy, sorrow, hope, and fear; Ailcey going into the great house.

  CHAPTER 11

  A Shadow

  “Ah, boys! Here you are, true to your promise,” said Henry, as he entered a covert in the thicket adjacent the cotton place, late on Sunday evening, “have you been waiting long?”

  “Not very,” replied Andy, “not mo’ dan two-three ouahs.”

  “I was fearful you would not come, or if you did before me, that you would grow weary, and leave.”

  “Yeh no call to doubt us Henry, case yeh fine us true as ole steel!”

  “I know it,” answered he, “but you know, Andy, that when a slave is once sold at auction, all respect for him——”

  “O pshaw! we ain’ goin’ to heah nothin’ like dat a tall! case——”

  “No!” interrupted Charles, “all you got to do Henry, is to tell we boys what you want, an’ we’re your men.”

  “That’s the talk for me!”

  “Well, what you doin’ here?” enquired Charles.

  “W’at brought yeh back from Jackson so soon?” further enquired Andy.

  “How did you get word to meet me here?”r />
  “By Ailcey; she give me the stone, an’ I give it to Andy, an’ we both sent one apiece back. Didn’t you git ’em?”

  “Yes, that’s the way I knew you intended to meet me,” replied Henry.

  “So we thought,” said Charles, “but tell us, Henry, what you want us to do.”

  “I suppose you know all about the sale, that they had me on the auction block, but ordered a postponement, and——”

  “That’s the very pint we can’t understand, although I’m in the same family with you,” interrupted Charles.

  “But tell us Henry, what yeh doin’ here?” impatiently enquired Andy.

  “Yes,” added Charles, “we want to know.”

  “Well, I’m a runaway, and from this time forth, I swear–I do it religiously–that I’ll never again serve any white man living!”

  “That’s the pint I wanted to git at before,” explained Charles, “as I can’t understan’ why you run away, after your release from Jack Harris, an’——”

  “Nah, I nuthah!” interrupted Andy.

  “It seems to me,” continued Charles, “that I’d ’ave went before they ’tempted to sell me, an’ that you’re safer now than before they had you on the block.”

  “Dat’s da way I look at it,” responded Andy.

  “The stopping of the sale was to deceive his wife, mammy, and Daddy Joe, as he had privately disposed of me to a regular soul-driver by the name of Crow.”

  “I knows Dick Crow,” said Andy, “ ’e come f’om Faginy, whah I did, da same town.”

  “So Ailcey said of him. Then you know him without any description from me,” replied Henry.

  “Yes ’n deed! an’ I knows ’im to be a inhuman, mean, dead-po’ white man, dat’s wat I does.”

  “Well, I was privately sold to him for two thousand dollars, then ordered back to Franks, as though I was still his slave, and by him given a pass, and requested to go to Woodville where there were arrangements to seize me and hold me, till Crow ordered me, which was to have been on Tuesday evening. Crow is not aware of me having been given a pass; Franks gave it to deceive his wife, in case of my not returning, to make the impression that I had run away, when in reality I was sold to the trader.”

  “Then our people had their merrymaking all for nothin’,” said Charles, “an’ Franks got what ’e didn’t deserve–their praise.”

  “No, the merrymaking was only to deceive Franks, that I might have time to get away. Daddy Joe, Mammy Judy, and Ailcey knew all about it, and proposed the feast to deceive him.”

  “Dat’s good! Sarve ’im right, da ’sarned ole scamp!” rejoined Andy.

  “It couldn’t be better!” responded Charles.

  “Henry uh wish we was in yo’ place an’ you none da wus by it,” said Andy.

  “Never mind, boys, give yourselves no uneasiness, as it wont be long before we’ll all be together.”

  “You think so, Henry?” asked Charles.

  “Well uh hope so, but den body can haudly ’spect it,” responded Andy.

  “Boys,” said Henry, with great caution and much emotion, “I am now about to approach an important subject and as I have always found you true to me–and you can only be true to me by being true to yourselves–I shall not hesitate to impart it! But for Heaven’s sake!–perhaps I had better not!”

  “Keep nothin’ back, Henry,” said Charles, “as you know that we boys ’ll die by our principles, that’s settled!”

  “Yes, I wants to die right now by mine; right heah, now!” sanctioned Andy.

  “Well it is this–close, boys! close!” when they gathered in a huddle, beneath an underbush, upon their knees, “you both go with me, but not now. I——”

  “Why not now?” anxiously enquired Charles.

  “Dat’s wat I like to know!” responded Andy.

  “Stop, boys, till I explain. The plans are mine and you must allow me to know more about them than you. Just here, for once, the slave-holding preacher’s advice to the black man is appropriate, ‘Stand still and see the salvation.’ ”

  “Then let us hear it, Henry,” asked Charles.

  “Fah God sake!” said Andy, “let us heah w’at it is, anyhow, Henry; yeh keep a body in ’spence so long, till I’s mose crazy to heah it. Dat’s no way!”

  “You shall have it, but I approach it with caution! Nay, with fear and trembling, at the thought of what has been the fate of all previous matters of this kind. I approach it with religious fear, and hardly think us fit for the task; at least, I know I am not. But as no one has ever originated, or given us anything of the kind, I suppose I may venture.”

  “Tell it! tell it!” urged both in a whisper.

  “Andy,” said Henry, “let us have a word of prayer first!” when they bowed low, with their heads to the ground, Andy, who was a preacher of the Baptist pursuasion among his slave brethren, offering a solemn and affecting prayer, in whispers to the Most High, to give them knowledge and courage in the undertaking, and success in the effort.

  Rising from their knees, Andy commenced an anthem, by which he appeared to be much affected, in the following words:

  About our future destiny,

  There need be none debate–

  Whilst we ride on the tide,

  With our Captain and his mate.

  Clasping each other by the hand, standing in a band together, as a plight of their union and fidelity to each other, Henry said, “I now impart to you the secret, it is this: I have laid a scheme, and matured a plan for a general insurrection of the slaves in every state, and the successful overthrow of slavery!”

  “Amen!” exclaimed Charles.

  “God grant it!” responded Andy.

  “Tell us, Henry, how’s dis to be carried out?” enquired Andy.

  “That’s the thing which most concerns me, as it seems that it would be hard to do in the present ignorant state of our people in the slave States,” replied Charles.

  “Dat’s jis wat I feah!” said Andy.

  “This difficulty is obviated. It is so simple that the most stupid among the slaves will understand it as well as if he had been instructed for a year.”

  “What!” exclaimed Charles.

  “Let’s heah dat aghin!” asked Andy.

  “It is so just as I told you! So simple is it that the trees of the forest or an orchard illustrate it; flocks of birds or domestic cattle, fields of corn, hemp, or sugar cane; tobacco, rice, or cotton, the whistling of the wind, rustling of the leaves, flashing of lightning, roaring of thunder, and running of streams all keep it constantly before their eyes and in their memory, so that they can’t forget it if they would.”

  “Are we to know it now?” enquired Charles.

  “I’m boun’ to know it dis night befo’ I goes home, ’case I been longin’ fah ole Pottah dis many day, an’ uh mos’ think uh got ’im now!”

  “Yes boys, you’ve to know it before we part, but——”

  “That’s the talk!” said Charles.

  “Good nuff talk fah me!” responded Andy.

  “As I was about to say, such is the character of this organization, that punishment and misery are made the instruments for its propagation, so——”

  “I can’t understan’ that part——”

  “You know nothing at all about it Charles, and you must——”

  “Stan’ still an’ see da salvation!” interrupted Andy.

  “Amen!” responded Charles.

  “God help you so to do, brethren!” admonished Henry.

  “Go on Henry tell us! give it to us!” they urged.

  “Every blow you receive from the oppressor impresses the organization upon your mind, making it so clear that even Whitehead’s Jack could understand it as well as his master.”

  “We are satisfied! The secret, the secret!” they importuned.

  “Well then, first to prayer, and then to the organization. Andy!” said Henry, nodding to him, when they again bowed low with their heads to the ground, whilst each breat
hed a silent prayer, which was ended with “Amen” by Andy.

  Whilst yet upon their knees, Henry imparted to them the secrets of his organization.

  “O, dat’s da thing!” exclaimed Andy.

  “Capital, capital!” responded Charles. “What fools we was that we didn’t know it long ago!”

  “I is mad wid myse’f now!” said Andy.

  “Well, well, well! Surely God must be in the work,” continued Charles.

  “ ’E’s heah; Heaven’s nigh! Ah feels it! It’s right heah!” responded Andy, placing his hand upon his chest, the tears trickling down his cheeks.

  “Brethren,” asked Henry, “do you understand it?”

  “Understand it? Why, a child could understand, it’s so easy!” replied Charles.

  “Yes,” added Andy, “ah not only undestan’ myse’f, but wid da knowledge I has uv it, ah could make Whitehead’s Jack a Moses!”

  “Stand still, then, and see!” said he.

  “Dat’s good Bible talk!” responded Andy.

  “Well, what is we to do?” enquired Charles.

  “You must now go on and organize continually. It makes no difference when, nor where you are, so that the slaves are true and trustworthy, as the scheme is adapted to all times and places.”

  “How we gwine do Henry, ’bout gittin’ da things ’mong da boys?” enquired Andy,

  “All you have to do, is to find one good man or woman–I dont care which, so that they prove to be the right person–on a single plantation, and hold a seclusion and impart the secret to them, and make them the organizers for their own plantation, and they in like manner impart it to some other next to them, and so on. In this way it will spread like smallpox among them.”

  “Henry, you is fit fah leadah ah see,” complimentingly said Andy.

  “I greatly mistrust myself, brethren, but if I can’t command, I can at least plan.”