Blake or The Huts of America

by Martin R. Delany

  “Oh, I understand it well enough now!” concluded Charles.

  “I undehstood well ’nough fuss, but I want to know all I could, dat’s all!” added Andy. “Ole Maudy’s a high feller, aint ’e, Henry?”

  “Oh yes! he’s the Head,” replied Charles.

  “No,” explained Henry, “he’s not now Head, but Gamby Gholar, who has for several years held that important position among them. Their Council consists of Seven, called the ‘Heads,’ and their Chief is called ‘the Head.’ Everything among them, in religion, medicine, laws, or politics, of a public character, is carried before the Head in Council to be settled and disposed of.”

  “Now we understan’,” said Andy, “but tell us, Henry, how yeh get ’long ’mong de folks whar yeh bin all dis time?”

  “Very well; everywhere except Kentucky, and there you can’t move them toward a strike!”

  “Kentucky!” rejoined Andy. “I all’as thought dat de slaves in dat state was de bes’ treated uv any, an’ dat da bin all long spectin’ to be free.”

  “That’s the very mischief of it, Andy! Tis this confounded ‘good treatment’ and expectation of getting freed by their oppressors, that has been the curse of the slave. All shrewd masters, to keep their slaves in check, promise them their freedom at their, the master’s death, as though they were certain to die first. This contents the slave, and makes him obedient and willing to serve and toil on, looking forward to the promised redemption. This is just the case precisely now in Kentucky. It was my case. While Franks treated me well, and made promises of freedom to my wife”–and he gave a deep sigh–“I would doubtless have been with him yet; but his bad treatment–his inhuman treatment of my wife–my poor, poor wife!–poor Maggie! was that which gave me courage, and made me determined to throw off the yoke, let it cost me what it would. Talk to me of a good master! A ‘good master’ is the very worst of masters. Were they all cruel and inhuman, or could the slaves be made to see their treatment aright, they would not endure their oppression for a single hour!”

  “I sees it, I sees it!” replied Andy.

  “An’ so do I,” added Charles, “who couldn’t see that?”

  “I tells yeh, Henry, it was mighty haud for me to make up my mine to leave ole Potteh; but even sence you an’ Chaules an’ me made de vow togedder, I got mo’ an’ mo’ to hate ’im. I could chop ’is head off sometime, I get so mad. I bleve I could chop off Miss Mary’ head; an’ I likes hur; she mighty good to we black folks.”

  “Pshaw! yes ’ndeed’ ole Frank’s head would be nothin’ for me to chop off; I could chop off mistess head, an’ you know she’s a good woman; but I mus’ be mighty mad fus’!” said Charles.

  “That’s it, you see. There is no danger that a ‘good’ master or mistress will ever be harmed by the slaves. There’s neither of you, Andy, could muster up courage enough to injure a ‘good master’ or mistress. And even I now could not have the heart to injure Mrs. Franks,” said Henry.

  “Now me,” replied Charles.

  “Yes, ’ndeed, dats a fac’, case I knows I couldn’ hurt Miss Mary Potteh. I bleve I’d almos’ chop off anybody’s head if I see ’em ’tempt to hurt ’e!” added Andy; when they heartily laughed at each other.

  “Just so!” said Henry. “A slave has no just conception of his own wrongs. Had I dealt with Franks as he deserved, for doing that for which he would have taken the life of any man had it been his casetearing my wife from my bosom!–the most I could take courage directly to do, was to leave him, and take as many from him as I could induce to go. But maturer reflection drove me to the expedient of avenging the general wrongs of our people, by inducing the slave, in his might, to scatter red ruin throughout the region of the South. But still, I cannot find it in my heart to injure an individual, except in personal conflict.”

  “An has yeh done it, Henry?” earnestly inquired Andy.

  “Yes, Andy; yes, I have done it! and I thank God for it! I have taught the slave that mighty lesson: to strike for Liberty. ‘Rather to die as freemen, than live as slaves!’ ”

  “Thang God!” exclaimed Charles.

  “Amen!” responded Andy.

  “Now, boys, to the most important event of your lives!” said Henry.

  “Wat’s dat?” asked Andy.

  “Why, get ready immediately to leave your oppressors tonight!” replied he.

  “Glory to God!” cried Andy.

  “Hallelujah!” responded Charles.

  “Quietly! Softly! Easy, boys, easy!” admonished Henry, when the party in breathless silence, on tiptoe moved off from the thicket in which they were then seated, toward the city.

  It was now one o’clock in the night, and Natchez shrouded in darkness and quiet, when the daring and fearless runaway with his companions, entered the enclosure of the great house grounds, and approached the door of the hut of Daddy Joe and Mammy Judy.

  “Who dat! Who dat, I say? Ole man, don’ yeh hear some un knockin’ at de doh?” with fright said Mammy Judy in a smothered tone, hustling and nudging the old man, who was in a deep sleep, when Henry rapped softly at the door.

  “Wat a mautta, ole umin?” after a while inquired the old man, rubbing his eyes.

  “Some un at de doh!” she replied.

  “Who dar?” inquired Daddy Joe.

  “A friend!” replied Henry with suppressed voice.

  “Ole man, open de doh quick! I bleve in me soul dat Henry! Open de doh!” said mammy.

  On the door being opened, the surprise and joy of the old woman was only equalled by the emotion of her utterance.

  “Dar! dar now, ole man! I tole ’em so, but da ’uden bleve me! I tole ’em ’e comin’, but da ’uden lis’en to me! Did yeh git ’er, me son? Little Joe cum too? O Laud! whar’s my po’ chile! What’s Margot?”

  To evade further inquiry, Henry replied that they were all safe, and hoping to see her and the old man.

  “How yeh bin, my chile? I’se glad to see yeh, but mighty sorry eh cum back; case de wite folks say, da once git der hands on yeh da neber let yeh go ’g’in! Potteh, Craig, Denny, and all on ’em, da tryin’ to fine whar yeh is, hunny!”

  “I am well, mammy, and come now to see what is to be done with you old people,” said Henry.

  “We ’ont to be hear long, chile; de gwine sell us all to de traders!” replied mammy with a deep sigh.

  “Yes chile,” added Daddy Joe, “we all gwine to de soul-driveh!”

  “You’ll go to no soul-drivers!” replied Henry, the flash of whose eyes startled Mammy Judy.

  “How yeh gwine help it, chile?” kindly asked Daddy Joe.

  “I’ll show you. Come, come, mammy! You and daddy get ready, as I’ve come to take you away, and must be at the river before two o’clock,” said Henry, who with a single jerk of a board in the floor of the hut, had reached the hidden treasure of the old people.

  “Who gwine wid us, chile?” inquired Mammy Judy.

  “Charles, Andy, and his female friend, besides some we shall pick up by the way!” replied Henry.

  “Now he’s a-talkin’!” jocosely said Charles, looking at Andy with a smile, at the mention of his female friend.

  “ ’E ain’ doin’ nothin’ else!” replied Andy.

  “Wat become o’ po’ little Tony! ’E sleep here tonight case he not berry well. Po’ chile!” sighed the old woman.

  “We’ll take him too, of course; and I would that I could take every slave in Natchez!” replied Henry. “It is now half-past one,” said he, looking at his watch, “and against two we must be at the river. Go Andy, and get your friend, and meet us at the old burnt sycamore stump above the ferry. Come mammy and daddy, not a word for your lives!” admonished Henry, when taking their package on his back, and little Tony by the hand, they left forever the great house premises of Colonel Stephen Franks in Natchez.

  On approaching the river a group was seen, which proved to consist of Andy, Clara (to whom his integrity was plighted), and the faithful old stump, their guidepo
st for the evening. Greeting each other with tears of joy and fearful hearts, they passed down to the water’s edge, but a few hundred feet below.

  The ferry boat in this instance was a lightly built yawl, commanded by a white man; the ferry one of many such selected along the shore, expressly for such occasions.

  “Have you a pass?” demanded the boatman as a ruse, lest he might be watched by a concealed party. “Let me see it!”

  “Here, sir,” said Henry, presenting to him by the light of a match which he held in his hand for the purpose, the face of a half eagle.

  “Here is seven of you, an’ I can’t do it for that!” in an humble undertone supplicating manner, said the man. “I axes that for one!”

  The weight of seven half eagles dropped into his hand, caused him eagerly to seize the oars, making the quickest possible time to the opposite side of the river.

  CHAPTER 28

  Studying Head Work

  “Now Henry,” said Andy, after finding themselves in a safe place some distance from the landing, “you promise’ w’en we stauted to show us de Noth Star–which is it?” On looking up the sky was too much obscured with clouds.

  “I can’t show it to you now, but when we stop to refresh, I’ll then explain it to you,” replied he.

  “It high time now, chil’en, we had a mou’full to eat ef we got travel dis way!” suggested Mammy Judy, breaking silence for the first time since they left the great house.

  “Yes,” replied Andy, “Clara and little Tony mus’ wan’ to eat, an’ I knows wat dis chile wants!” touching himself on the breast.

  The runaways stopped in the midst of an almost impenetrable thicket, kindled a fire to give them light, where to take their fare of cold meat, bread and butter, and cheese, of which the cellar and pantry of Franks, to which Mammy Judy and Charles had access, afforded an ample supply.

  Whilst the others were engaged in refreshing, Henry, aside of a stump, was busily engaged with pencil and paper.

  “Whar’s Henry, dat ’e ain’t hear eatin?” inquired Mammy Judy, looking about among the group.

  “I sho, ole umin, ’e’s oveh dar by de stump,” replied Daddy Joe.

  “Wat dat boy doin’ dar? Henry, wat yeh doin’? Mus’ be studyin’ headwuck, I reckon! Sho boy! betteh come ‘long an’ git a mou’full to eat. Yeh ain’ hungry I reckon,” said the old woman.

  “Henry, we dun eatin’ now. You mos’ ready to tell us ‘bout de Noth Star?” said Andy.

  “Yes, I will show you,” said Henry, walking forward and setting himself in the center of the group. “You see these seven stars which I’ve drawn on this piece of paper–numbered 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7? From the peculiarity of the shape of their relative position to each other, the group is called the ‘Dipper,’ because to look at them they look like a dipper or a vessel with a long handle.

  “I see it; don’t you see dat, Chaules?” said Andy.

  “Certainly, anybody could see that,” replied Charles.

  “Ole umin,” said Daddy Joe, “don’ yeh see it?”

  “Sho’, ole man! Ain’t I lookin!” replied the old woman.

  “You all see it then, do you?” inquired Henry.

  “Yes, yes!” was the response.

  “Now then,” continued Henry; “for an explanation by which you can tell the North Star, when or from whatever place you may see it. The two stars of the Dipper, numbered 6 and 7, are called the pointers, because they point directly to the North Star, a very small, bright star, far off from the pointers, generally seeming by itself, especially when the other stars are not very bright.

  “The star numbered 8, above the pointer, a little to the left, is a dim, small star, which at first sight would seem to be in a direct line with it; but by drawing a line through 7 to 8, leaves a space as you see between the star 6 and lower part of the line; or forms an angle (as the ‘book men’ call it, Andy) of ten degrees. The star number 9 in the distance, and a little to the right, would also seem to be directly opposite the pointers; but by drawing a line through 7 to 9, there is still a space left between the lower end of the line and 6. Now trace the dotted line from 6 through the center of 7, and it leads directly to 10. This is the North Star, the slave’s great Guide to Freedom! Do you all now understand it?”

  “See it!” replied Andy. “Anybody can’t see dat, ain’ got sense ’nuff to run away, an’ no call to be free, dat’s all! I knows all about it. I reckon I a’mos’ know it betteh dan you, Henry!”

  “Dar, dar, I tole yeh so! I tole yeh dat boy studyin’ head wuck, an yeh ’uden bleve me! ’E run about yendeh so much an’ kick up ’e heel dat’e talk so much gramma an’ wot not, dat body haudly undehstan’! I knows dat ’e bin ’splainin do. Ole man, yeh understan’ im?” said Mammy Judy.

  “Ah, ole umin, dat I does! An’ I’ been gone forty years ’ago, I’ know’d dis much ‘bout it!” replied Daddy Joe.

  “Above number 2 the second star of the handle of the Dipper, close to it, you will see by steadily looking, a very small star, which I call the knob or thumb-holt of the handle. You may always tell the Dipper by the knob of the handle; and the North star by the Dipper. The Dipper, during the night you will remember, continues to change its position in relation to the earth, so that it sometimes seems quite upside down.”

  “See here, Henry, does you know all——”

  “Stop, Andy, I’ve not done yet!” interrupted he.

  “Uh, heh!” said Andy.

  “When the North star cannot be seen,” continued Henry, “you must depend alone upon nature for your guide. Feel, in the dark, around the trunks or bodies of trees, especially oak, and whenever you feel moss on the bark, that side on which the moss grows is always to the north. One more explanation and then well go. Do you see this little round metallic box? This is called a——”

  “Wat dat you call ’talic, Henry? Sho, boy! yeh head so full ob gramma an’ sich like dat yeh don’ know how to talk!” interrupted Mammy Judy.

  “That only means iron or brass, or some hard thing like that, mammy,” explained he. ‘The little box of which I was speaking has in it what is called a compass. It has a face almost like a clock or watch, with one straight hand which reaches entirely across the face, and turns or shakes whenever you move the box. This hand or finger is a piece of metal called loadstone’ or ‘magnet,’ and termed the needle of the compass; and this end with the little cross on it, always points in one direction, and that is to the north. See; it makes no difference which way it is moved, this point of the needle turns back and points that way.”

  “An mus’ ye al’as go de way it pints, Henry?” inquired Andy.

  “No; not except you are running away from the South to Canada, or the free States; because both of these places are in the north. But when you know which way the north is, you can easily find any other direction you wish. Notice this, all of you.”

  “When your face is to the north, your back is to the south; your right hand to the east, and your left to the west. Can you remember this?”

  “O yes, easy!” replied Andy.

  “Then you will always know which way to go, by the compass showing you which is north,” explained Henry.

  “What does dese letters roun’ hear mean, Henry?” further inquired Andy.

  “Only what I have already explained; meaning north, east, west, and south, with their intermediate——”

  “Dar!” interrupted Mammy Judy. “ ’E gone into big talk g’in! Sho!”

  “Intermediate means between, mammy,” explained Henry.

  “Den ef dat’s it, I lis’en at yeh; case I want gwine bautheh my head wid you’ jography an’ big talk like dat!” replied the old woman.

  “What does a compass cost?” inquired Charles, who had been listening with intense interest and breathless silence at the information given by their much-loved fellow bondman.

  “One-half a dollar, or four bits, as we call it, so that every slave who will, may get one. Now, I’ve told you all that’s necessar
y to guide you from a land of slavery and long suffering, to a land of liberty and future happiness. Are you now all satisfied with what you have learned?”

  “Chauls, aint ’e high! See here, Henry, does yeh know all dat yeh tell us? Wy, ole feller, you is way up in de hoobanahs! Wy, you is conjure sho’nuff. Ef I only know’d dis befo’, ole Potteh neven keep me a day. O, pshaw! I bin gone long ’go!”

  “He’ll do!” replied Charles.

  “Well, well, well!” apostrophized Mammy Judy. “Dat beats all! Sence I was baun, I nebber hear de like. All along I been tellen on yeh, dat ’e got ’is head chuck cleanfull ob cumbustable, an’ all dat, but yeh ’ud’n bleve me! Now yeh see!”

  “Ole umin, I ’fess dat’s all head wuck! Dat beats Punton! dat boy’s nigh up to Maudy Ghamus! Dat boy’s gwine to be mighty!” with a deep sigh replied Daddy Joe.

  “Come, now, let’s go!” said Henry.

  On rising from where they had all been sitting with fixed attention upon their leader and his instruction, the sky was observed through the only break in the thicket above their heads, when suddenly they simultaneously exclaimed:

  “There’s the Dipper! there’s the North Star!” all pointing directly to the Godlike beacon of liberty to the American slave.

  Leaving Mammy Judy and Daddy Joe, Clara and little Tony, who had quite recovered from his indisposition the early part of the night, in charge of a friend who designedly met them on the Louisiana side of the river, with heightened spirits and a new impulse, Henry, Charles and Andy, started on their journey in the direction of their newly described guide, the North Star.

  Star of the North thou art not bigger,

  Than the diamond in my ring;

  Yet every black star-gazing nigger,

  Looks up to thee as some great thing![18]

  was the apostrophe of an American writer to the sacred orb of Heaven, which in this case was fully verified.

  During the remainder of the night and next day, being Sabbath, they continued their travel, only resting when overcome wth fatigue. Continuing in Louisiana by night, and resting by day, Wednesday morning, before daybreak, brought them to the Arkansas river. At first they intended to ford, but like the rivers generally of the South, its depth and other contingencies made it necessary to seek some other means. After consultation in a canebreak, day beginning to dawn, walking boldly up to a man just loosening a skiff from its fastenings, they demanded a passage across the river. This the skiffman refused peremptorily on any pretext, rejecting the sight of a written pass.