JOURNEY TO OUR NEW HOME IN NEW YORK.
All things having been prepared for our departure, our last "Good-bye"
spoken, and our last look taken of the old plantation, we started, amid
the sobs and prolonged cries of separating families, in company with our
master, the overseer and another white man named Davis, who went with us
to take back the five-horse "Pennsylvania team," which was provided for
the conveyance of the food for the slaves, and what little baggage they
might have, and also that of the overseer.
Capt. Helm had determined to leave his family until he could get his
slaves settled in their future quarters, and a home provided for himself,
when they were expected to join him.
We traveled northward, through Maryland, Pennsylvania, and a portion of
New York, to Sodus Bay, where we halted for some time. We made about
twenty miles per day, camping out every night, and reached that place
after a march of twenty days. Every morning the overseer called the roll,
when every slave must answer to his or her name, felling to the ground
with his cowhide, any delinquent who failed to speak out in quick time.
After the roll had been called, and our scanty breakfast eaten, we
marched on again, our company presenting the appearance of some numerous
caravan crossing the desert of Sahara. When we pitched our tents for the
night, the slaves must immediately set about cooking not their supper
only, but their breakfast, so as to be ready to start early the next
morning, when the tents were struck; and we proceeded on our journey in
this way to the end.
At Sodus Bay there was then one small tavern, kept by a man named Sill.
The bay is ten miles in length and from a half to two miles in breadth,
and makes an excellent harbor. The surrounding country then was almost an
unbroken wilderness.
After Capt. Helm had rested a few days at Sodus, he went six miles up the
bay and purchased a large tract of land lying on both sides of that
beautiful sheet of water, and put his slaves on to clear and cultivate
it. Then came the "tug of war." Neither the overseer nor the slaves had
the least knowledge of _clearing_ land, and that was the first thing to be
done. It was useless to consult the Captain, for he knew still less about
matters of that kind. To obviate this difficulty, our master bought out a
Mr. Cummings, who had some cleared land on the west side of the bay. On
this he put the overseer and a part of the slaves, and then hired a Mr.
Herrington to take charge of the remainder. Herrington and his gang of
slaves was sent to the east side to chop down the heavy timber and clear
the land for cultivation, all of which had first to be learned, for we
knew nothing of felling trees, and the poor slaves had rather a hard time
of it.
Provisions were scarce and could not be procured for cash in that section.
There was no corn to be had, and we had but little left. We had no
neighbors to assist us in this trying time, and we came near starvation.
True, the wild, romantic region in which we were located abounded in
game,--elk, deer, bear, panther, and wolves, roamed abroad through the
dense forest, in great abundance, but the business of the slaves was not
hunting or fishing, but clearing the land, preparatory to raising crops
of grain the coming season.
At last Capt. Helm chartered a boat, and manned it to go to the mouth of
the Genesee River to buy corn. They embarked under favorable auspices, but
soon there came on such a tremendous storm, that the boat could no longer
be managed, and the crew in despair threw themselves on the bottom of the
boat to await their inevitable destruction, when one of their number, a
colored man named Dunbar, sprang to the helm, and with great difficulty
succeeded in running her safely into a Canadian port, where they were
obliged to part with every thing in their possession to obtain the means
to return to their families in Sodus, who had given them up as lost. But,
to the great joy of all, they came back at last with their lives, but with
nothing for the famishing slaves. Before another boat could be sent for
our relief, we were reduced to the last extremity. We became so weak we
could not work, and it was difficult to drag ourselves about, as we were
now obliged to do, to gather up all the old bones we could find, break
them up fine and then boil them; which made a sort of broth sufficient
barely to sustain life. This we drank, and merely existed, until at last,
the long looked for boat returned, loaded with provision, which saved us
from starvation and gave us strength to pursue our labor.