*Interview with Rachael Goings,*
*Cape Girardeau, Missouri.*
"My full name wuz Rachael Exelina Mayberry (Mabrey) an' my mammy's name
was Cynthy Minerva Jane Logan. You see I carried de name Mayberry 'cause
dat wuz my masta's name. Masta' Josiah Mayberry. My mammy carried de
name Logan 'cause dat wuz de famly she belonged to fo' Masta' bought her
down in Buckskull, Arkansas. Masta had three sons, Dosh, his wife wuz
Roberta, Alf his wife wuz Malissa and Byrd, his wife wuz Cully. In dem
days we called 'em all by dere first name. We honored de ole Masta', but
de younger folks, we didden call Masta' Dosh, or Masta' Byrd--or Missus
Cully. It wuz jes Dosh, Byrd or Cully. I didden' know de ole Missus. Dey
tole me she went crazy and kilt herself shortly after I wuz borned
'cause she thought I was white. We wuz de only slave famly Masta' had en
he wuz good to us. We all liked him, all o' us but Cynthy, dat's my
mammy I allus called her Cynthy till after de war wuz over. Cynthy
always called him "Ole Damn"--she hated him 'cause he brought her fum
Arkansas and left her twins an' dey poppy down dere. Cynthy's daddy was
a full Cherrokee. She wuz always mad and had a mean look in her eye.
When she got her Indian up de white folks let her alone. She usta run
off to de woods till she git over it. One time she tuk me and went to de
woods an' it was nigh a month fore dey found her--and I wuz nigh dead.
Dey kept me at de white folks house till I got strong again. Only one
time Masta' whip me. We made lots o' molasses on our place. Oh! lots of
molasses en' dey wuz allus some barrels standin' upright wid bungs in
close to de bottom so de 'lasses run out. One day I seed one o' de men
fix him some sweetened tobaccy. He had his tobaccy in a box about so
big, en he push de bung des way, en dat way--den down, den up den he
hol' it jes loose enough so de 'lasses trickle out over his tobaccy. I
watched him an thought I'd fix me some, too. I got my box fixed en' I
pushed at de bung, I pushed dis way, en dat way like I seed him do when
all at once dat bung flew out en' dat lasses flew all over de place. De
barrel was full en' it cum out so fast I couldn't git de bung back in. I
tried till I wuz wadin' in 'lasses to my knees. Den I run call Masta'
and tell him a bung dun bust out. He say how you do dat? I tell him I
jes knock again' 'en it flew out. Den he seed my box and he knowed how I
done it. Den he laid me on de floor an' he put his foot on my haid. He
took his switch and he gave me one good out. Den he kept beatin on de
floor. I guess dat wuz to make de others think he wuz giving me a big
beatin'. But I didden want that big foot on my haid no more.
"De big house stood facing de road. It wuz built like lots o' houses wuz
in dem days, de kitchen and dinin' room on one side. Masta's room on de
udder with a big open hallway between. Across de front was a big porch.
We called it a gallery. Across de road, back a piece ways wuz our cabin.
Cynthy did all de cookin, an she wuz a good cook. We allus had plenty
good things to eat. De white folks would sit down en eat, en when dey's
through we'd sit down at de same table. I 'members de first shoes I ever
had. One of de men had got em fo' his little girl, en' dey was too
small. So he giv' 'em to my step-daddy for me. Dey uz too big but I wore
em en wuz proud of em. They wuz so big fo' me, they went dis way en' dat
way en' den de heels went all crooked. I wore 'em till 'bout de time de
first snow came den I guess I thought I'd wore 'em long enuf an' I
throwed em away. My step daddy whipped me for dat and made me wear 'em
all winter.
"I must a been 'bout eight year old when de war start. Fust I knowed,
one day Masta said to me. "Child go out to de gate an see if anyone
comin." I went to de gate like he tole me an' dere was men comin down de
road. Whew! I never seed so many men in all my life. I went back en'
tole him. He didden' say nuthin' but lit out the back way across the
fields an we didden see him again fo' some time.
"After that we saw lots o' sojers--dey'd stop at our place but dey never
bother nuthin. Masta told us allus to have plenty cookin' an bakin'
ready when de sojers came. Cynthy'd have de kitchen cupboard piled full
o' lightbread and cakes and pies--sometime dey's Rebel sojers an
sometimes dey's Republicans--We called de Northerns Republicans. We cud
allus tell 'em. The Rebels wore brown coats and the Northerners wore
blue suits wid pretty gold pieces on dey shoulders. My! but dey wuz
pretty.
"Masta' ud come home once en awhile--an den one day he come home--I can
see him yet a-sittin by de kitchen stove. De stove sat back in de big
fireplace far enuf so de pipe go up de flue but not too far so you could
look in de oven. Dere sat de Masta lookin' like he had sumthin' to tell
mammy but was skeered to. She had her mad up that day--I jes foun' a
hen's nest an' wuz runnin' in to tell her. I hollered "Cynthy,
Cynthy"--Masta' put up his hand en say, slow like--"Stop chile! You
mustin' call her Cynthy no more. The war is over and you no more slaves.
Now you must call her mammy". But dat all de difference it made--we kep'
on livin dere just de same, till Masta' died two year atter de war.
"One day a mule kicked him on de laig what wuz hurt in de war. It got so
bad de doctor couldn' do nuthin for it. Masta' wud holler wid pain--It
wuz in de fall of de year. One day I came in and sed, "Masta' you know
dat big yellow apple tree? It's bloomin again, en it's got little green
apples on it." He looked at me an sez--'Chile, youre lyin". I sez, "No
Masta I ain't." He say "If you're lyin' to me, I'll get up and lick you
again", so I runs and gets him a branch wid flowers on, and little green
apples, an when he sees it, he cries. He knows he's gonna die 'cause de
tree is bloomin out of season. But I didden know it. I says "Masta' if
dem apples gits ripe, we'll have good eatins''cause de big yellow mealy
ones wen dey fall, dey bust wide open."
"Masta' died en if I'd a know'd what I know now I could have saved him.
I'd a took young elder leaves en boiled em to make a tea--den I'd a
poured dat in de sore en it ud a got well.
"Masta' musta had hundreds a acres--'cause he give each o' his boys a
big farm--en dey was his dotter Caroline, by his fust wife--I forgit
'bout her--he give her a farm, too--Dis wuz down in Stoddard County,
near Advance. Shortly after dat Dosh died, en de rest sold out en' went
to Texas.
"We seed Masta' lots a times after he died. I sez it wuz Masta' 'cause
it looked like him. One day I was standin lookin thru de bars o' de gate
wen I seen out in de road de largest dog I ever seed in all my life. He
wuz standin' der lookin' at me. I says to my brother, 'Look! he's got
thick sandy red hair like Masta's, en he's got a nose like Masta's, en
he's got eyes like Masta's, an he sho' do look like Masta'--Den I run
back onto de gallery where de adder folks is. Dat dog stan' dere lookin
at us, de big brush on his tail jes a wavin', den he reach thru de gate
wid one paw, en onlatch it, and walked right in. The gate went shut agin
but it didden make no noise. Den he cum up de walk en go rite across de
gallery in front of us. He jump over de side fence, en run across de
field, en go inter de woods. We know'd it wuz Masta', jes cum to look
aroun, en it git so he'd cum every day 'bout noon, jes when Masta'
always cum in fo' dinner. We ain't never seed him cum outer de
graveyard, but he always com frum dat way. En one day I wuz playing in
de doorway of our cabin an I looked across to de big house, and dere sat
Masta' in his big chair on de gallery. I called Mammy en she says--'If
you're lyin', I'll whup you.' But she cum en look, en she seed him too,
he had his white shirt-sleeve rolled up to his elbow and his red flannel
undershirt sleeve down to his wrist jes like he uster wear it. Der he
sat en while we wus lookin he got up en walked off around the house.
"I 'members one evenin' 'bout dusk I wuz commin thru de cotton patch,
an' I run plum into a man crawlin' along--Dat wuz durin' de war, en der
he wuz crawlin' on his hands en knees. He had de biggest hands I ever
seed on a human, an his feet wasn't ever touchin de groun'--dey wuz jes
floppin' one over de udder, dis way. An his face!--I've seed false faces
but dis wuz de worst I ever seed--dere wuz big red en white stripes all
across his face. He rared up an looked at me like a dog rare on his
haunches, and jes' dat way he wuz taller dan I wuz. I didden stop to
look again' but I lit out en run through dat cotton patch. Lawd ha'
mercy! how I did run. I jes' knocked dat cotton one way er nother--en
dey didden whip me for it when I tole em 'bout it nuther. Nex' mornin'
we went down der to look, en we seed de tracks where his knees had
made--thru de cotton patch, cross the road, en enter de woods. But no
body else never did see him. I often studied, wuz he natchel, or jes a
ghost.
"When my little brother wuz borned, I 'members dat day. Mammy and I wuz
working out in dis corn patch. She wuz coverin' corn, an she jes had
'bout three or four more rows to cover, den she ran to de house. Dey wuz
jes one room en she tried to made de udder children go outside but dey
wouldn' go, so she ran outside in de chimney corner, en soon dey heard a
baby holler. Dey called me to cum quick 'cause Mammy found a baby. By de
spring house stood a ole tree--en I seed it had blown down an in de
branches was a big nest an de nest wuz empty. I sez--"Rite dere's where
mammy found her baby--rite outer dat nest". Dey sez, "No suh! She done
found it in de chimney corner, 'cause we heard it dere." No, mammy
didden need nobody to help tend to her. Aunt Hannah Erwin was a doctor
woman. She could sure cure a woman if she had child-bed fever--but my
mammy didden need her."