“I am glad to see that you have money,” said Henry, “you are thereby well qualified for your mission. With money you may effect your escape almost at any time. Your most difficult point is an elevated obstruction, a mighty hill, a mountain; but through that hill there is a gap, and money is your passport through that White Gap to freedom. Mark that! It is the great range of White mountains and White river which are before you, and the White Gap that you must pass through to reach the haven of safety. Money alone will carry you through the White mountains or across the White river to liberty.”
“Brother, my eyes is open, and my way clear!” responded Sampson to this advice.
“Then,” said Henry, “you are ready to ‘rise and shine’ for——”
“My light has come!–” interrupted Sampson. “But——”
“The glory of God is not yet shed abroad!”* concluded Henry, who fell upon Sampson’s neck with tears of joy in meeting unexpectedly one of his race so intelligent in that region of country.
Sampson and wife Dursie, taking Henry by the hand wept aloud, looking upon him as the messenger of deliverance foreshown to them.
Kneeling down a fervent prayer was offered by Sampson for Henry’s protection by the way, and final success in his “mighty plans,” with many Amens and “God grants,” by Dursie.
Partaking of a sumptuous fare on ’ash cake and sweet milk–a dainty diet with many slaves–and bidding with a trembling voice and tearful eye a final “Farewell!” in six hours he had left the state of Texas to the consequences of a deep-laid scheme for a terrible insurrection.
*This person had really $2,000 in gold, securely hid away unknown to any person but his wife, until showing it to the writer.
*A real incident which took place between a slave and a free black adviser.
CHAPTER 20
Advent Among the Indians
From Texas Henry went into the Indian Nation near Fort Towson, Arkansas.
“Make yourself at home, sir,” invited Mr. Culver, the intelligent old Chief of the United Nation, “and Josephus will attend to you,” referring to his nephew Josephus Braser, an educated young chief and counselor among his people.
“You are slaveholders, I see, Mr. Culver!” said Henry.
“We are, sir, but not like the white men,” he replied.
“How many do you hold?”
“About two hundred on my two plantations.”
“I can’t well understand how a man like you can reconcile your principles with the holding of slaves and——”[8]
“We have had enough of that!” exclaimed Dr. Donald, with a tone of threatening authority.
“Hold your breath, sir, else I’ll stop it!” in a rage replied the young chief.
“Sir,” responded the Doctor, “I was not speaking to you, but only speaking to that Negro!”
“You’re a fool!” roared Braser, springing to his feet.
“Come, come, gentlemen!” admonished the old Chief. “I think you are both going mad! I hope you’ll behave something better.”
“Well, uncle, I can’t endure him! he assumes so much authority!” replied he. “He’ll make the Indians slaves just now, then Negroes will have no friends.”
Donald was a white man, married among the Indians a sister of the old Chief and aunt to the young, for the sake of her wealth and a home. A physician without talents, he was unable to make a business and unwilling to work.
“Mr. Bras——”
“I want nothing more of you,” interrupted Braser, “and don’t——”
“Josephus, Josephus!” interrupted the old chief. “You will surely let the Doctor speak!”
Donald stood pale and trembling before the young Choctaw born to command, when receiving no favor he left the company muttering “nigger!”
“Now you see,” said Mr. Culver as the Doctor left the room, “the difference between a white man and Indian holding slaves. Indian work side by side with black man, eat with him, drink with him, rest with him and both lay down in shade together; white man even won’t let you talk! In our Nation Indian and black all marry together. Indian like black man very much, ony he don’t fight ’nough. Black man in Florida fight much, and Indian like ’im heap!”[9]
“You make, sir, a slight mistake about my people. They would fight if in their own country they were united as the Indians here, and not scattered thousands of miles apart as they are. You should also remember that the Africans have never permitted a subjugation of their country by foreigners as the Indians have theirs, and Africa today is still peopled by Africans, whilst America, the home of the Indian–who is fast passing away–is now possessed and ruled by foreigners.”
“True, true!” said the old Chief, looking down reflectingly. ‘Too true! I had not thought that way before. Do you think the white man couldn’t take Africa if he wanted?”
“He might by a combination, and I still am doubtful whether then he could if the Africans were determined as formerly to keep him out. You will also remember, that the whites came in small numbers to America, and then drove the Indians from their own soil, whilst the blacks got in Africa as slaves, are taken by their own native conquerors, and sold to white men as prisoners of war.”
“That is true, sir, true!” sighed the old Chief. ‘The Indian, like game before the bow, is passing away before the gun of the white man!”
“What I now most wish to learn is, whether in case that the blacks should rise, they may have hope or fear from the Indian?” asked Henry.
“I’m an old mouthpiece, been puffing out smoke and talk many seasons for the entertainment of the young and benefit of all who come among us. The squaws of the great men among the Indians in Florida were black women, and the squaws of the black men were Indian women. You see the vine that winds around and holds us together. Don’t cut it, but let it grow till bimeby, it git so stout and strong, with many, very many little branches attached, that you can’t separate them. I now reach to you the pipe of peace and hold out the olive-branch of hope! Go on young man, go on. If you want white man to love you, you must fight im!” concluded the intelligent old Choctaw.
“Then, sir, I shall rest contented, and impart to you the object of my mission,” replied Henry.
“Ah hah!” exclaimed the old chief after an hour’s seclusion with him. “Ah hah! Indian have something like that long-go. I wonder your people ain’t got it before! That what make Indian strong; that what make Indian and black man in Florida hold together. Go on young man, go on! may the Great Spirit make you brave!” exhorted Mr. Culver, when the parties retired for the evening, Henry rooming with the young warrior Braser.
By the aid of the young Chief and kindness of his uncle the venerable old brave, Henry was conducted quite through the nation on a pony placed at his service, affording to him an ample opportunity of examining into the condition of things. He left the settlement with the regrets of the people, being the only instance in which his seclusions were held with the master instead of the slave.
CHAPTER 21
What Not
Leaving the United Nation of Chickasaw and Choctaw Indians, Henry continued his travel in this the roughest, apparently, of all the states. Armed with bowie knives and revolvers openly carried belted around the person, he who displays the greatest number of deadly weapons seems to be considered the greatest man. The most fearful incivility and absence of refinement was apparent throughout this region. Neither the robes of state nor gown of authority is sufficient to check the vengeance of awakened wrath in Arkansas. Law is but a fable, its ministration a farce, and the pillars of justice but as stubble before the approach of these legal invaders.
Hurriedly passing on in the darkness of the night, Henry suddenly came upon a procession in the wilderness, slowly and silently marching on, the cortege consisting principally of horsemen, there being but one vehicle, advanced by four men on horseback. Their conversation seemed at intervals of low, muttering, awestricken voices. The vehicle was closely covered, and of a sad,
heavy sound by the rattling of the wheels upon the unfinished path of the great Arkansas road. Here he sat in silence listening, waiting for the passage of the solemn procession, but a short distance from whence in the thicket stood the hut of the slave to whom he was sent.
“Ole umin! done yeh heah some ’un trampin’ round de house? Hush! evedroppehs ’bout!” admonished Uncle Jerry.
“Who dat?” enquired Aunt Rachel, as Henry softly rapped at the back window.
“A friend!” was the reply.
“What saut frien’ dat go sneak roun’ people back windah stid comin’ to de doh!”
“Hush, ole umin, yeh too fas’! how yeh know who ’tis? Frien’, come roun’ to de doh,” said the old man.
Passing quickly around, the door was opened, a blazing hot fire shining full in his face, the old man holding in his hand a heavy iron poker in the attitude of defence.
“Is dis you, my frien’?” enquired Uncle Jerry, to whom Henry was an entire stranger.
“Yes, uncle, this is me,” replied he.
“God bless yeh, honey! come in; we didn know ’twos you, chile! God bless de baby!” added Aunt Rachel. “Ole man, heah yeh comin’ an’ we been lookin’ all day long. Dis evenin’ I git some suppeh, an’ I don’o if yeh come uh no.”
“How did you know I was coming, aunty?”
“O! honey, da tell us,” replied she.
“Who told you?”
“De folks up dah.”
“Up where?”
“Up dah, ’mong de Injins, chile.”
“Indians told you?”
“No, honey; some de black folks, da all’as gwine back and for’ard, and da lahn heap from dem up dah; an’ da make ’ase an’ tell us.”
“Can you get word from each other so far apart, that easy?”
“Yes ’ndeed, honey! some on ’em all de time gwine; wite folks know nothin’ ‘bout it. Some time some on ’em gone two-three day, an’ ain miss; white folks tink da in the woods choppin’.”
“Why, that’s the very thing! you’re ahead of all the other states. You folks in Arkansas must be pretty well organized already.”
“Wat dat yeh mean, chile, dat ‘organ’ so?”
“I mean by that, aunty, a good general secret understanding among yourselves.”
“Ah, chile! dat da is. Da comin’ all de time, ole man hardly time to eat mou’full wen ’e come in de hut night.”
“Tell me, aunty, why people like you and uncle here, who seem to be at the head of these secrets, are not more cautious with me, a stranger?”
“Ole umin, I lisenin at yeh!” said Uncle Jerry, after enough had been told to betray them; but the old people well understood each other, Aunt Rachel by mutual consent being the mouthpiece.
“How we knows you!” rejoined the old woman. “Wy, chile, yeh got mahk dat so soon as we put eye on yeh, we knows yeh. Huccum yeh tink we gwine tell yeh so much wen we don’o who yeh is? Sho, chile, we ain’t dat big fool!”
“Then you know my errand among you, aunty?”
“Yes, meh son, dat we does, an’ we long been waitin’ foh some sich like you to come ’mong us. We thang God dis night in ouh soul! We long been lookin’ foh ye, chile!” replied Uncle Jerry.
“You are closely watched in this state, I should think, uncle.”
“Yes, chile, de patrolas da all de time out an’ gwine in de quahtehs an’ huntin’ up black folks wid der ‘nigga-dogs’ as da call ’em.”
“I suppose you people scarcely ever get a chance to go anywhere, then?”
“God bless yeh, honey, da blacks do’n mine dem noh der ‘nigga-dogs’ nutha. Patrolas feahd uh de black folks, an’ da black folks charm de dogs, so da cahn heht ’em,” said Aunt Rachel.
“I see you understand yourselves! Now, what is my best way to get along through the state?”
“Keep in de thicket, chile, as da patrolas feahd to go in de woods, da feahd runaway ketch ’em! Keep in da woods, chile, an’ da ain’ goin’ dah bit! Da talk big, and sen’ der dog, but da ain’ goin’ honey!” continued the old woman.
“Ah spose, meh son, yeh know how to chaum dogs?” enquired Uncle Jerry.
“I understand the mixed bull, but not the full-bred Cuba dog,” replied Henry.
“Well, chile, da keep boph kine heah, de bull dog an’ bloodhoun’ an’ fo’ yeh go, I lahn yeh how to fix ’em all! Da come sneakin’ up to yeh! da cahn bite yeh!”
“Thank you, Uncle Jerry! I’ll try and do as much for you in some way.”
“Yeh no call foh dat, meh son; it ain’ nothin’ mo’ nah onh——”
“Hush! ole man; ain’ dat dem?” admonished Aunt Rachel, in a whisper, as she went to the door, thrusting out her head in the dark.
“Who? Patrols?” with anxiety enquired Henry.
“No, chile, de man da kill down yondah; all day long da been lookin’ foh ’em to come.”
“A procession passed just before I came to your door, which I took for a funeral.”
“Yes, chile, dat’s it, da kill im down dah.”
On enquiry, it appeared that in the senate a misunderstanding on the rules of order and parliamentary usage occurred, when the Speaker, conceiving himself insulted by the senator who had the floor, deliberately arose from his chair, when approaching the senator, drove a bowie knife through his body from the chest, which laid him a corpse upon the senate floor.
“There he is! There he is!” stormed the assassin, pointing with defiance at the lifeless body, his hand still reeking with blood. “I did it!” slapping his hand upon his own breast in triumph of his victory.
They had just returned with the body of the assassinated statesman to the wretched home of his distracted family, some ten miles beyond the hut of Uncle Jerry.
“Is this the way they treat each other, aunty?”
“Yes, chile, wus den dat! da kill one-notha in cole blood, sometime at de table eatin’. Da all’as choppin’ up some on ’em.”
“Then you black people must have a poor chance among them, if this is the way they do each other!”
“Mighty po’, honey; mighty po’ indeed!” replied Uncle Jerry.
“Well, uncle, it’s now time I was doing something; I’ve been here some time resting. Aunty, see to your windows and door; are there any cracks in the walls!”
“No, honey, da dob good!” whispered the old woman as a wellpatched, covering quilt to shield the door was hung, covering nearly one side of the hut, and a thickly-patched linsey gown fully shielded the only window of four eight-by-ten lights.
These precautions taken, they drew together in a corner between the head of the bed and well-daubed wall to hold their seclusion.
“Laud!” exclaimed Uncle Jerry, after the secrets were fully imparted to them. “Make beah dine all-conquering ahm! strike off de chains dat dy people may go free! Come, Laud, a little nigh, eh!”
“Honah to ’is name!” con corded Aunt Rachel. “Wuthy all praise! Tang God fah wat I seen an’ heahn dis night! dis night long to be membed! Meh soul feels it! It is heah!” pressing her hand upon her breast, exclaimed she.
“Amen! Laud heah de cry uh dy childen! Anseh prah!” responded the old man, in tears; when Aunt Rachel in a grain of sorrowful pathos, sung to the expressive words in the slaves’ lament:
“In eighteen hundred and twenty-three
They said their people should be free!
It is wrote in Jeremiah,
Come and go along with me!
It is wrote in Jeremiah,
Go sound the Jubilee!”
At the conclusion of the last line, a sudden sharp rap at the door startled them, when the old woman, hastening, took down the quilt, enquiring, “Who dat?”
“Open the door, Rachel!” was the reply, in an authoritative tone from a posse of patrols, who on going their evening rounds were attracted to the place by the old people’s devotion, and stood sometime listening around the hut.
“You seem to be happy here, Jerry,” said Ralph Jordon, the head of th
e party. “What boy is this you have here?”
“Major Morgan’s sir,” replied Henry, referring to the proprietor of the next plantation above.
“I don’t remember seeing you before, boy,” continued Jordon.
“No, sir; lately got me,” explained Henry.
“Aye, aye, boy; a preacher, I suppose.”
“No, sir.”
“No, Maus Rafe, dis brotheh no preacheh; but ’e is ’logious, and come to gib us little comfit, an’ bless God I feels it now; dat I does, blessed be God!” said the old woman.
“Well, Rachel, that’s all right enough; but, my boy, its high time that you were getting towards home. You’ve not yet learned our rules here; where are you from?”
“Louisiana, sir.”
“Yes, yes, that explains it. Louisiana Negroes are permitted to go out at a much later hour than our Negroes.”
“Maus Rafe, ah hope yah let de brotheh eat a mouph’l wid us fo’ go?”
“O yes, Rachel! give the boy something to eat before he goes; I suppose the ‘laborer is worthy of his hire,’ ” looking with a smile at his comrades.
“Yes ’ndeed, seh, dat he is!” replied the old woman with emphasis.
“Rachel, I smell something good! What have you here, spare rib?” enquired Ralph Jordon, walking to the table and lifting up a clean check apron which the old woman had hurriedly thrown over it to screen her homely food from the view of the gentlemen patrols. “Good! spare rib and ash cake, gentlemen! What’s better? Rachel, give us some seats here!” continued Ralph.
Hurrying about, the old woman made out to seat the uninvited guests with a half barrel tub, an old split bottom chair, and a short slab bench, which accommodated two.
“By gum! This is fine,” said Ralph Jordon, smacking his mouth, and tearing at a rib. “Gentlemen, help yourselves to some spirits,” setting on the table a large flask of Jamaica rum, just taken from his lips.
“Nothing better,” replied Tom Hammond; “give me at any time the cooking in the Negro quarters before your great-house dainties.”
“So say I,” sanctioned Zack Hite, champing like a hungry man. “The Negroes live a great deal better than we do.”
Blake or The Huts of America Page 13
