'What you want me to sign for? I is free.'
'Dat will hold me to my word and hold you to yo' word,' he say.
"All my folks sign it, but I wouldn't sign. Marster call me up and say:
'Willis, why wouldn't you sign?' I say: 'If I is already free, I don't
need to sign no paper. If I was workin' for you and doin' for you befo'
I got free, I kin do it still, if you wants me to stay wid you.'
"My father and mother tried to git me to sign, but I wouldn't sign. My
mother said: 'You oughter sign. How you know Marster gwine pay?' I say:
'Den I kin go somewheh else.'
"Marster pay first class hands $15.00 a month, other hands $10.00, and
den on down to five and six dollars. He give rations like dey always
have. When Christmus' come, all come up to be paid off. Den he calls me.
Ask whar is me? I was standin' roun' de corner of de house. 'Come up
here, Willis,' he say. 'You didn't sign dat paper but I reckon I hab to
pay you too.' He paid me and my wife $180.00. I said: 'Well, you-all
thought he wouldn't pay me, but I got my money too.'
"I stayed to my marster's place one year after de war, den I lef' dere.
Nex' year I decided I would quit dere and go somewheh else. It was on
account o' my wife. You see, Marster bought her off, as de highes'
bidder, down in Waynesboro, and she ain't seen her mother and father for
fifteen years. When she got free, she went down to see 'em. Waren't
willin' to come back. T'was on account o' Mistis and her. Dey bofe had
chilluns, five-six year old. De chilluns had disagreement. Mistis slap
my gal. My wife sass de Mistis. But my marster, he wuz as good a man as
ever born. I wouldn't have lef' him for nobody, just on account of his
wife and her fell out."
"What did your master say when you told him you were going to leave? Was
he sorry?"
"I quit and goes over three miles to another widow lady's house, and mek
bargain wid her," said Willis. "I pass right by de do'. Old boss sittin'
on de pi--za. He say: 'Hey, boy, wheh you gwine?' I say: 'I 'cided to
go.' I wuz de fo'man' o' de plow-han' den. I saw to all de looking up,
and things like dat. He say: 'Hold on dere.' He come out to de gate.
'tell you what I give you to stay on here. I give you five acre of as
good land as I got, and $30.00 a month, to stay here and see to my
bizness.'"
Willis paused a moment, thinking back on that long distant parting.
"I say," he went on, "'I can't, marster. It don't suit my wife 'round
here. She won't come back. I can't stay.'
"He turn on me den, and busted out crying. 'I didn't tho't I could raise
up a darky dat would talk dat-a-way,' he said. Well, I went on off. I
got de wagon and come by de house. Marster say: 'Now, you gwine off but
don't forget me, boy. Remember me as you always done.' I said: 'All
right.'"
Willis chewed his tobacco reflectively for a few minutes, spat into the
rosemary bush and resumed his story.
"I went over to dat widow lady's house and work. Along about May I got
sick. She say: 'I going send for de doctor.' I say: 'Please ma'am, don't
do dat.' (I thought maybe he kill me 'cause I lef' him.) She say: 'Well,
I gwine send fo' him.' I in desprut condition. When I know anything, he
walk up in de do'. I was laying' wid my face toward de do', and I turn
over.
"Doctor come up to de bed. 'Boy, how you gettin' on?' 'I bad off,' I
say. He say: 'see you is. Yeh.' Lady say: 'Doctor, whut you think of
him?' Doctor say: 'Mistis, it mos' too late, but I do all I kin.' She
say: 'Please do all you kin, he 'bout de bes' han' I got.'
"Doctor fix up med'cine and tole her to give it to me.
"She say: 'Uncle Will, tek dis med'cine. I 'fraid to tek it. 'Fraid he
wuz tryin' to kill me. Den two men, John and Charlie, come in. Lady say:
'Get dis med'cine in Uncle Will.' One o' de men hold my hand and dey gag
me and put it in me. Nex' few days I kin talk and ax for somethin' to
eat so I git better. (I say: "Well, he didn't kill me when I tuk de
med'cine!')
"I stayed dere wid her," continued Willis. "Nex' year I move right back
in two miles, other side wheh I always live, wid anudder lady. I stay
dere three year. Got along all right. When I lef' from there, I lef'
dere wid $300.00 and plenty corn and hog. Everything I want, and three
hundred cash dollars in my pocket!"
It was plain that in his present status of relief ward, Uncle Willis
looked back on that sum of money as a small fortune. He thought about it
awhile, spat again, and went on:
"Fourth year I lef and went down to anudder place near de Creek. I stay
dere 33 years in dat one place."
"Uncle Willis, did you ever see the doctor again?"
"He die 'fore I know it," he replied. "I was 'bout fifteen miles from
him, and by de time I year o' his death, he bury on plantation near de
creek."
Willis was asked about superstitions and answered with great
seriousness:
"Eve'ybuddy in de worl' hab got a sperrit what follow 'em roun' and dey
kin see diffrunt things. In my sleep I hab vision."
"Pappy, tell de ladies 'bout de hant," urged Aunt Rena from her post in
the doorway, and Willis took up the story with eagerness:
"One night I was gwine to a lady's store, ridin' a horse. De graveyard
was 100 yards from de road I wuz passin'. De moon was shinin' bright as
day. I saw somethin' comin' out of dat graveyard. It come across de
road, right befo' me. His tail were draggin' on de ground--a long tail.
He had hair on both sides of him, layin' down on de road. He crep' up. I
pull de horse dis way. He move too. I yell out: 'What in de name o' God
is dat?' And it turn right straight around and went back to de
graveyard. I went on to de lady's house and done my shoppin'. I tell you
I wuz skeered, 'cause I was sho' I would see it going back, but I never
saw it. De horse was turrible skeered of it. It looked like a Maryno
sheep and it had a long, swishy tail."
Uncle Willis was asked if he had ever seen a person "conjured" and he
answered:
"Dey is people in de worl' got sense enough to kill out de conjur in
anybuddy, but nobuddy ever conjur me. I year 'um say, if a person conjur
you, you'll git somethin' in you dat would kill you."
Asked to what he attributed his long, healthy life, Willis raised his
head with a preaching look and replied:
"I tell you, Missis, 'zactly what I believe, I bin tryin' to serve God
ever since I come to be a man of family. I bin tryin' to serve de Lawd
79 years, and I live by precept of de word. Until today nobuddy can turn
me away from God business. I am a man studying my gospel, I ain't able
to go to church, but I still keep serving God."
[TR: Return visit]
A week later Uncle Willis was found standing in his cabin door.
"Do you want to ride to the old plantation to-day?" he was asked. His
vitality was almost too low for him to grasp the invitation.
"I'se mighty weak to-day," he said in a feeble voice. "I don't feel good
for much."
"Where is Aunt Rena?" he was asked. "Do you think she would mind your
taking an automobile trip?"
"She gone to town on de bus, to see de Fambly Welfare."
"Have you had breakfast?"
"I had some coffee, but I ain't eat none."
"Well, come on, Uncle Willis. We'll get you some breakfast and then
we'll take you to the plantation and take your picture in the place
where you were born, 101 years ago."
Uncle Willis appeared to be somewhat in a daze as he padlocked the cabin
door, put on his "sundown" hat, took up his stout stick and tottered
down the steps. He wore a frayed sweater with several layers of shirts
showing at the cuffs. On the way he recalled the first railroad train
that passed through Burke County.
"I kinder skeered," he recollected. "We wuz all 'mazed to see dat train
flying' long 'thout any horses. De people wuz all afraid."
"Had you heard of airplanes before you saw one, Uncle Willis?"
"Yes, ma'am. I yeared o' dem but you couldn't gimme dis car full o'
money to fly. Dey's too high off de ground. I never is gwine in one!"
Uncle Willis was deposited on the porch of one of the remaining slave
cabins to eat his "breakkus," while his kidnapers sought over hill and
field for "The big house," but only two cabins and the chimney
foundations of a large burned dwelling rewarded the search.
The old ex-slave was posed in front of the cabin, to one side of the
clay and brick chimney, and took great pleasure in the ceremony, rearing
his head up straight so that his white beard stuck out.
The brutal reality of finding the glories of the plantation forever
vanished must have been a severe blow for the old man. Several times on
the way back he wiped tears from his eyes. Once again at his cabin in
the cottonfield, his vitality reasserted itself, and he greeted his
curious dusky neighbors with the proud statement.
"Dey tuk me when I was bred and born! I ain't ax no better time!"
Willis' farewell words were:
"Goo'bye! I hopes you all gits to Paradise!"
[HW: Dist 1-2
Ex-Slave #116]