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THE
HISTORY OF MARY PRINCE,
A WEST INDIAN SLAVE.
RELATED BY HERSELF.
WITH A SUPPLEMENT BY THE EDITOR.
To which is added,
THE NARRATIVE OF ASA-ASA,
A CAPTURED AFRICAN.
"By our sufferings, since ye brought us
To the man-degrading mart,--
All sustain'd by patience, taught us
Only by a broken heart,--
Deem our nation brutes no longer,
Till some reason ye shall find
Worthier of regard, and stronger
Than the colour of our kind."
COWPER.
LONDON:
PUBLISHED BY F. WESTLEY AND A. H. DAVIS,
STATIONERS' HALL COURT;
AND BY WAUGH & INNES, EDINBURGH.
1831.
PREFACE.
The idea of writing Mary Prince's history was first suggested by herself.
She wished it to be done, she said, that good people in England might hear
from a slave what a slave had felt and suffered; and a letter of her late
master's, which will be found in the Supplement, induced me to accede to
her wish without farther delay. The more immediate object of the
publication will afterwards appear.
The narrative was taken down from Mary's own lips by a lady who happened
to be at the time residing in my family as a visitor. It was written out
fully, with all the narrator's repetitions and prolixities, and afterwards
pruned into its present shape; retaining, as far as was practicable,
Mary's exact expressions and peculiar phraseology. No fact of importance
has been omitted, and not a single circumstance or sentiment has been
added. It is essentially her own, without any material alteration farther
than was requisite to exclude redundancies and gross grammatical errors,
so as to render it clearly intelligible.
After it had been thus written out, I went over the whole, carefully
examining her on every fact and circumstance detailed; and in all that
relates to her residence in Antigua I had the advantage of being assisted
in this scrutiny by Mr. Joseph Phillips, who was a resident in that colony
during the same period, and had known her there.
The names of all the persons mentioned by the narrator have been printed
in full, except those of Capt. I---- and his wife, and that of Mr. D----,
to whom conduct of peculiar atrocity is ascribed. These three individuals
are now gone to answer at a far more awful tribunal than that of public
opinion, for the deeds of which their former bondwoman accuses them; and
to hold them up more openly to human reprobation could no longer affect
themselves, while it might deeply lacerate the feelings of their surviving
and perhaps innocent relatives, without any commensurate public advantage.
Without detaining the reader with remarks on other points which will be
adverted to more conveniently in the Supplement, I shall here merely
notice farther, that the Anti-Slavery Society have no concern whatever
with this publication, nor are they in any degree responsible for the
statements it contains. I have published the tract, not as their
Secretary, but in my private capacity; and any profits that may arise from
the sale will be exclusively appropriated to the benefit of Mary Prince
herself.
THO. PRINGLE.
_7, Solly Terrace, Claremont Square_,
_January 25, 1831._
P. S. Since writing the above, I have been furnished by my friend Mr.
George Stephen, with the interesting narrative of Asa-Asa, a captured
African, now under his protection; and have printed it as a suitable
appendix to this little history.
T. P.
THE HISTORY OF MARY PRINCE, A WEST INDIAN SLAVE.
(Related by herself.)
I was born at Brackish-Pond, in Bermuda, on a farm belonging to Mr.
Charles Myners. My mother was a household slave; and my father, whose name
was Prince, was a sawyer belonging to Mr. Trimmingham, a ship-builder at
Crow-Lane. When I was an infant, old Mr. Myners died, and there was a
division of the slaves and other property among the family. I was bought
along with my mother by old Captain Darrel, and given to his grandchild,
little Miss Betsey Williams. Captain Williams, Mr. Darrel's son-in-law,
was master of a vessel which traded to several places in America and the
West Indies, and he was seldom at home long together.
Mrs. Williams was a kind-hearted good woman, and she treated all her
slaves well. She had only one daughter, Miss Betsey, for whom I was
purchased, and who was about my own age. I was made quite a pet of by Miss
Betsey, and loved her very much. She used to lead me about by the hand,
and call me her little nigger. This was the happiest period of my life;
for I was too young to understand rightly my condition as a slave, and too
thoughtless and full of spirits to look forward to the days of toil and
sorrow.
My mother was a household slave in the same family. I was under her own
care, and my little brothers and sisters were my play-fellows and
companions. My mother had several fine children after she came to Mrs.
Williams,--three girls and two boys. The tasks given out to us children
were light, and we used to play together with Miss Betsey, with as much
freedom almost as if she had been our sister.
My master, however, was a very harsh, selfish man; and we always dreaded
his return from sea. His wife was herself much afraid of him; and, during
his stay at home, seldom dared to shew her usual kindness to the slaves.
He often left her, in the most distressed circumstances, to reside in
other female society, at some place in the West Indies of which I have
forgot the name. My poor mistress bore his ill-treatment with great
patience, and all her slaves loved and pitied her. I was truly attached to
her, and, next to my own mother, loved her better than any creature in the
world. My obedience to her commands was cheerfully given: it sprung
solely from the affection I felt for her, and not from fear of the power
which the white people's law had given her over me.
I had scarcely reached my twelfth year when my mistress became too poor to
keep so many of us at home; and she hired me out to Mrs. Pruden, a lady
who lived about five miles off, in the adjoining parish, in a large house
near the sea. I cried bitterly at parting with my dear mistress and Miss
Betsey, and when I kissed my mother and brothers and sisters, I thought my
young heart would break, it pained me so. But there was no help; I was
forced to go. Good Mrs. Williams comforted me by saying that I should
still be near the home I was about to quit, and might come over and see
her and my kindred whenever I could obtain leave of absence from Mrs.
Pruden. A few hours after this I was taken to a strange house, and found
myself among strange people. This separation seemed a sore trial to me
then; but oh! 'twas light, light to the trials I have since
endured!--'twas nothing--nothing to be mentioned with them; but I was a
child then, and it was according to my strength.
I knew that Mrs. Williams could no longer maintain me; that she was fain
to part with me for my food and clothing; and I tried to submit myself to
the change. My new mistress was a passionate woman; but yet she did not
treat me very unkindly. I do not remember her striking me but once, and
that was for going to see Mrs. Williams when I heard she was sick, and
staying longer than she had given me leave to do. All my employment at
this time was nursing a sweet baby, little Master Daniel; and I grew so
fond of my nursling that it was my greatest delight to walk out with him
by the sea-shore, accompanied by his brother and sister, Miss Fanny and
Master James.--Dear Miss Fanny! She was a sweet, kind young lady, and so
fond of me that she wished me to learn all that she knew herself; and her
method of teaching me was as follows:--Directly she had said her lessons
to her grandmamma, she used to come running to me, and make me repeat them
one by one after her; and in a few months I was able not only to say my
letters but to spell many small words. But this happy state was not to
last long. Those days were too pleasant to last. My heart always softens
when I think of them.
At this time Mrs. Williams died. I was told suddenly of her death, and my
grief was so great that, forgetting I had the baby in my arms, I ran away
directly to my poor mistress's house; but reached it only in time to see
the corpse carried out. Oh, that was a day of sorrow,--a heavy day! All
the slaves cried. My mother cried and lamented her sore; and I (foolish
creature!) vainly entreated them to bring my dear mistress back to life. I
knew nothing rightly about death then, and it seemed a hard thing to bear.
When I thought about my mistress I felt as if the world was all gone
wrong; and for many days and weeks I could think of nothing else. I
returned to Mrs. Pruden's; but my sorrow was too great to be comforted,
for my own dear mistress was always in my mind. Whether in the house or
abroad, my thoughts were always talking to me about her.
I staid at Mrs. Pruden's about three months after this; I was then sent
back to Mr. Williams to be sold. Oh, that was a sad sad time! I recollect
the day well. Mrs. Pruden came to me and said, "Mary, you will have to go
home directly; your master is going to be married, and he means to sell
you and two of your sisters to raise money for the wedding." Hearing this
I burst out a crying,--though I was then far from being sensible of the
full weight of my misfortune, or of the misery that waited for me.
Besides, I did not like to leave Mrs. Pruden, and the dear baby, who had
grown very fond of me. For some time I could scarcely believe that Mrs.
Pruden was in earnest, till I received orders for my immediate
return.--Dear Miss Fanny! how she cried at parting with me, whilst I
kissed and hugged the baby, thinking I should never see him again. I left
Mrs. Pruden's, and walked home with a heart full of sorrow. The idea of
being sold away from my mother and Miss Betsey was so frightful, that I
dared not trust myself to think about it. We had been bought of Mr.
Myners, as I have mentioned, by Miss Betsey's grandfather, and given to
her, so that we were by right _her_ property, and I never thought we
should be separated or sold away from her.
When I reached the house, I went in directly to Miss Betsey. I found her
in great distress; and she cried out as soon as she saw me, "Oh, Mary! my
father is going to sell you all to raise money to marry that wicked woman.
You are _my_ slaves, and he has no right to sell you; but it is all to
please her." She then told me that my mother was living with her father's
sister at a house close by, and I went there to see her. It was a
sorrowful meeting; and we lamented with a great and sore crying our
unfortunate situation. "Here comes one of my poor picaninnies!" she said,
the moment I came in, "one of the poor slave-brood who are to be sold
to-morrow."
Oh dear! I cannot bear to think of that day,--it is too much.--It recalls
the great grief that filled my heart, and the woeful thoughts that passed
to and fro through my mind, whilst listening to the pitiful words of my
poor mother, weeping for the loss of her children. I wish I could find
words to tell you all I then felt and suffered. The great God above alone
knows the thoughts of the poor slave's heart, and the bitter pains which
follow such separations as these. All that we love taken away from us--Oh,
it is sad, sad! and sore to be borne!--I got no sleep that night for
thinking of the morrow; and dear Miss Betsey was scarcely less distressed.
She could not bear to part with her old playmates, and she cried sore and
would not be pacified.
The black morning at length came; it came too soon for my poor mother and
us. Whilst she was putting on us the new osnaburgs in which we were to be
sold, she said, in a sorrowful voice, (I shall never forget it!) "See, I
am _shrouding_ my poor children; what a task for a mother!"--She then
called Miss Betsey to take leave of us. "I am going to carry my little
chickens to market," (these were her very words,) "take your last look of
them; may be you will see them no more." "Oh, my poor slaves! my own
slaves!" said dear Miss Betsey, "you belong to me; and it grieves my heart
to part with you."--Miss Betsey kissed us all, and, when she left us, my
mother called the rest of the slaves to bid us good bye. One of them, a
woman named Moll, came with her infant in her arms. "Ay!" said my mother,
seeing her turn away and look at her child with the tears in her eyes,
"your turn will come next." The slaves could say nothing to comfort us;
they could only weep and lament with us. When I left my dear little
brothers and the house in which I had been brought up, I thought my heart
would burst.
Our mother, weeping as she went, called me away with the children Hannah
and Dinah, and we took the road that led to Hamble Town, which we reached
about four o'clock in the afternoon. We followed my mother to the
market-place, where she placed us in a row against a large house, with our
backs to the wall and our arms folded across our breasts. I, as the
eldest, stood first, Hannah next to me, then Dinah; and our mother stood
beside, crying over us. My heart throbbed with grief and terror so
violently, that I pressed my hands quite tightly across my breast, but I
could not keep it still, and it continued to leap as though it would burst
out of my body. But who cared for that? Did one of the many by-standers,
who were looking at us so carelessly, think of the pain that wrung the
hearts of the negro woman and her young ones? No, no! They were not all
bad, I dare say; but slavery hardens white people's hearts towards the
blacks; and many of them were not slow to make their remarks upon us
aloud, without regard to our grief--though their light words fell like
cayenne on the fresh wounds of our hearts. Oh those white people have
small hearts who can only feel for themselves.
At length the vendue master, who was to offer us for sale like sheep or
cattle, arrived, and asked my mother which was the eldest. She said
nothing, but pointed to me. He took me by the hand, and led me out into
the middle of the street, and, turning me slowly round, exposed me to the
view of those who attended the vendue. I was soon surrounded by strange
men, who examined and handled me in the same manner that a butcher would a
calf or a lamb he was about to purchase, and who talked about my shape and
size in like words--as if I could no more understand their meaning than
the dumb beasts. I was then put up to sale. The bidding commenced at a few
pounds, and gradually rose to fifty-seven,[1] when I was knocked down to
the highest bidder; and the people who stood by said that I had fetched a
great sum for so young a slave.
[Footnote 1: Bermuda currency; about £38 sterling.]
I then saw my sisters led forth, and sold to different owners; so that we
had not the sad satisfaction of being partners in bondage. When the sale
was over, my mother hugged and kissed us, and mourned over us, begging of
us to keep up a good heart, and do our duty to our new masters. It was a
sad parting; one went one way, one another, and our poor mammy went home
with nothing.[2]
[Footnote 2: Let the reader compare the above affecting account, taken
down from the mouth of this negro woman, with the following description of
a vendue of slaves at the Cape of Good Hope, published by me in 1826, from
the letter of a friend,--and mark their similarity in several
characteristic circumstances. The resemblance is easily accounted for:
slavery wherever it prevails produces similar effects.--"Having heard that
there was to be a sale of cattle, farm stock, &c. by auction, at a
Veld-Cornet's in the vicinity, we halted our waggon one day for the
purpose of procuring a fresh spann of oxen. Among the stock of the farm
sold, was a female slave and her three children. The two eldest children
were girls, the one about thirteen years of age, and the other about
eleven; the youngest was a boy. The whole family were exhibited together,
but they were sold separately, and to different purchasers. The farmers
examined them as if they had been so many head of cattle. While the sale
was going on, the mother and her children were exhibited on a table, that
they might be seen by the company, which was very large. There could not
have been a finer subject for an able painter than this unhappy group. The
tears, the anxiety, the anguish of the mother, while she met the gaze of
the multitude, eyed the different countenances of the bidders, or cast a
heart-rending look upon the children; and the simplicity and touching
sorrow of the young ones, while they clung to their distracted parent,
wiping their eyes, and half concealing their faces,--contrasted with the
marked insensibility and jocular countenances of the spectators and
purchasers,--furnished a striking commentary on the miseries of slavery,
and its debasing effects upon the hearts of its abettors. While the woman
was in this distressed situation she was asked, 'Can you feed sheep?' Her
reply was so indistinct that it escaped me; but it was probably in the
negative, for her purchaser rejoined, in a loud and harsh voice, 'Then I
will teach you with the sjamboc,' (a whip made of the rhinoceros' hide.)
The mother and her three children were sold to three separate purchasers;
and they were literally torn from each other."--_Ed._]
My new master was a Captain I----, who lived at Spanish Point. After
parting with my mother and sisters, I followed him to his store, and he
gave me into the charge of his son, a lad about my own age, Master Benjy,
who took me to my new home. I did not know where I was going, or what my
new master would do with me. My heart was quite broken with grief, and my
thoughts went back continually to those from whom I had been so suddenly
parted. "Oh, my mother! my mother!" I kept saying to myself, "Oh, my mammy
and my sisters and my brothers, shall I never see you again!"
Oh, the trials! the trials! they make the salt water come into my eyes
when I think of the days in which I was afflicted--the times that are
gone; when I mourned and grieved with a young heart for those whom I
loved.
It was night when I reached my new home. The house was large, and built at
the bottom of a very high hill; but I could not see much of it that night.
I saw too much of it afterwards. The stones and the timber were the best
things in it; they were not so hard as the hearts of the owners.[3]
[Footnote 3: These strong expressions, and all of a similar character in
this little narrative, are given verbatim as uttered by Mary
Prince.--_Ed._]
Before I entered the house, two slave women, hired from another owner, who
were at work in the yard, spoke to me, and asked who I belonged to? I
replied, "I am come to live here." "Poor child, poor child!" they both
said; "you must keep a good heart, if you are to live here."--When I went
in, I stood up crying in a corner. Mrs. I---- came and took off my hat, a
little black silk hat Miss Pruden made for me, and said in a rough voice,
"You are not come here to stand up in corners and cry, you are come here
to work." She then put a child into my arms, and, tired as I was, I was
forced instantly to take up my old occupation of a nurse.--I could not
bear to look at my mistress, her countenance was so stern. She was a stout
tall woman with a very dark complexion, and her brows were always drawn
together into a frown. I thought of the words of the two slave women when
I saw Mrs. I----, and heard the harsh sound of her voice.
The person I took the most notice of that night was a French Black called
Hetty, whom my master took in privateering from another vessel, and made
his slave. She was the most active woman I ever saw, and she was tasked to
her utmost. A few minutes after my arrival she came in from milking the
cows, and put the sweet-potatoes on for supper. She then fetched home the
sheep, and penned them in the fold; drove home the cattle, and staked them
about the pond side;[4] fed and rubbed down my master's horse, and gave
the hog and the fed cow[5] their suppers; prepared the beds, and undressed
the children, and laid them to sleep. I liked to look at her and watch all
her doings, for hers was the only friendly face I had as yet seen, and I
felt glad that she was there. She gave me my supper of potatoes and milk,
and a blanket to sleep upon, which she spread for me in the passage before
the door of Mrs. I----'s chamber.
[Footnote 4: The cattle on a small plantation in Bermuda are, it seems,
often thus staked or tethered, both night and day, in situations where
grass abounds.]
[Footnote 5: A cow fed for slaughter.]
I got a sad fright, that night. I was just going to sleep, when I heard a
noise in my mistress's room; and she presently called out to inquire if
some work was finished that she had ordered Hetty to do. "No, Ma'am, not
yet," was Hetty's answer from below. On hearing this, my master started up
from his bed, and just as he was, in his shirt, ran down stairs with a
long cow-skin[6] in his hand. I heard immediately after, the cracking of
the thong, and the house rang to the shrieks of poor Hetty, who kept
crying out, "Oh, Massa! Massa! me dead. Massa! have mercy upon me--don't
kill me outright."--This was a sad beginning for me. I sat up upon my
blanket, trembling with terror, like a frightened hound, and thinking that
my turn would come next. At length the house became still, and I forgot
for a little while all my sorrows by falling fast asleep.
[Footnote 6: A thong of hard twisted hide, known by this name in the West
Indies.]
The next morning my mistress set about instructing me in my tasks. She
taught me to do all sorts of household work; to wash and bake, pick cotton
and wool, and wash floors, and cook. And she taught me (how can I ever
forget it!) more things than these; she caused me to know the exact
difference between the smart of the rope, the cart-whip, and the cow-skin,
when applied to my naked body by her own cruel hand. And there was
scarcely any punishment more dreadful than the blows I received on my face
and head from her hard heavy fist. She was a fearful woman, and a savage
mistress to her slaves.
There were two little slave boys in the house, on whom she vented her bad
temper in a special manner. One of these children was a mulatto, called
Cyrus, who had been bought while an infant in his mother's arms; the
other, Jack, was an African from the coast of Guinea, whom a sailor had
given or sold to my master. Seldom a day passed without these boys
receiving the most severe treatment, and often for no fault at all. Both
my master and mistress seemed to think that they had a right to ill-use
them at their pleasure; and very often accompanied their commands with
blows, whether the children were behaving well or ill. I have seen their
flesh ragged and raw with licks.--Lick--lick--they were never secure one
moment from a blow, and their lives were passed in continual fear. My
mistress was not contented with using the whip, but often pinched their
cheeks and arms in the most cruel manner. My pity for these poor boys was
soon transferred to myself; for I was licked, and flogged, and pinched by
her pitiless fingers in the neck and arms, exactly as they were. To strip
me naked--to hang me up by the wrists and lay my flesh open with the
cow-skin, was an ordinary punishment for even a slight offence. My
mistress often robbed me too of the hours that belong to sleep. She used
to sit up very late, frequently even until morning; and I had then to
stand at a bench and wash during the greater part of the night, or pick
wool and cotton; and often I have dropped down overcome by sleep and
fatigue, till roused from a state of stupor by the whip, and forced to
start up to my tasks.
Poor Hetty, my fellow slave, was very kind to me, and I used to call her
my Aunt; but she led a most miserable life, and her death was hastened (at
least the slaves all believed and said so,) by the dreadful chastisement
she received from my master during her pregnancy. It happened as follows.
One of the cows had dragged the rope away from the stake to which Hetty
had fastened it, and got loose. My master flew into a terrible passion,
and ordered the poor creature to be stripped quite naked, notwithstanding
her pregnancy, and to be tied up to a tree in the yard. He then flogged
her as hard as he could lick, both with the whip and cow-skin, till she
was all over streaming with blood. He rested, and then beat her again and
again. Her shrieks were terrible. The consequence was that poor Hetty was
brought to bed before her time, and was delivered after severe labour of a
dead child. She appeared to recover after her confinement, so far that she
was repeatedly flogged by both master and mistress afterwards; but her
former strength never returned to her. Ere long her body and limbs swelled
to a great size; and she lay on a mat in the kitchen, till the water burst
out of her body and she died. All the slaves said that death was a good
thing for poor Hetty; but I cried very much for her death. The manner of
it filled me with horror. I could not bear to think about it; yet it was
always present to my mind for many a day.
After Hetty died all her labours fell upon me, in addition to my own. I
had now to milk eleven cows every morning before sunrise, sitting among
the damp weeds; to take care of the cattle as well as the children; and to
do the work of the house. There was no end to my toils--no end to my
blows. I lay down at night and rose up in the morning in fear and sorrow;
and often wished that like poor Hetty I could escape from this cruel
bondage and be at rest in the grave. But the hand of that God whom then I
knew not, was stretched over me; and I was mercifully preserved for better
things. It was then, however, my heavy lot to weep, weep, weep, and that
for years; to pass from one misery to another, and from one cruel master
to a worse. But I must go on with the thread of my story.
One day a heavy squall of wind and rain came on suddenly, and my mistress
sent me round the corner of the house to empty a large earthen jar. The
jar was already cracked with an old deep crack that divided it in the
middle, and in turning it upside down to empty it, it parted in my hand. I
could not help the accident, but I was dreadfully frightened, looking
forward to a severe punishment. I ran crying to my mistress, "O mistress,
the jar has come in two." "You have broken it, have you?" she replied;
"come directly here to me." I came trembling; she stripped and flogged me
long and severely with the cow-skin; as long as she had strength to use
the lash, for she did not give over till she was quite tired.--When my
master came home at night, she told him of my fault; and oh, frightful!
how he fell a swearing. After abusing me with every ill name he could
think of, (too, too bad to speak in England,) and giving me several heavy
blows with his hand, he said, "I shall come home to-morrow morning at
twelve, on purpose to give you a round hundred." He kept his word--Oh sad
for me! I cannot easily forget it. He tied me up upon a ladder, and gave
me a hundred lashes with his own hand, and master Benjy stood by to count
them for him. When he had licked me for some time he sat down to take
breath; then after resting, he beat me again and again, until he was quite
wearied, and so hot (for the weather was very sultry), that he sank back
in his chair, almost like to faint. While my mistress went to bring him
drink, there was a dreadful earthquake. Part of the roof fell down, and
every thing in the house went--clatter, clatter, clatter. Oh I thought the
end of all things near at hand; and I was so sore with the flogging, that
I scarcely cared whether I lived or died. The earth was groaning and
shaking; every thing tumbling about; and my mistress and the slaves were
shrieking and crying out, "The earthquake! the earthquake!" It was an
awful day for us all.
During the confusion I crawled away on my hands and knees, and laid myself
down under the steps of the piazza, in front of the house. I was in a
dreadful state--my body all blood and bruises, and I could not help
moaning piteously. The other slaves, when they saw me, shook their heads
and said, "Poor child! poor child!"--I lay there till the morning,
careless of what might happen, for life was very weak in me, and I wished
more than ever to die. But when we are very young, death always seems a
great way off, and it would not come that night to me. The next morning I
was forced by my master to rise and go about my usual work, though my body
and limbs were so stiff and sore, that I could not move without the
greatest pain.--Nevertheless, even after all this severe punishment, I
never heard the last of that jar; my mistress was always throwing it in my
face.
Some little time after this, one of the cows got loose from the stake, and
eat one of the sweet-potatoe slips. I was milking when my master found it
out. He came to me, and without any more ado, stooped down, and taking off
his heavy boot, he struck me such a severe blow in the small of my back,
that I shrieked with agony, and thought I was killed; and I feel a
weakness in that part to this day. The cow was frightened at his
violence, and kicked down the pail and spilt the milk all about. My master
knew that this accident was his own fault, but he was so enraged that he
seemed glad of an excuse to go on with his ill usage. I cannot remember
how many licks he gave me then, but he beat me till I was unable to stand,
and till he himself was weary.
After this I ran away and went to my mother, who was living with Mr.
Richard Darrel. My poor mother was both grieved and glad to see me;
grieved because I had been so ill used, and glad because she had not seen
me for a long, long while. She dared not receive me into the house, but
she hid me up in a hole in the rocks near, and brought me food at night,
after every body was asleep. My father, who lived at Crow-Lane, over the
salt-water channel, at last heard of my being hid up in the cavern, and he
came and took me back to my master. Oh I was loth, loth to go back; but as
there was no remedy, I was obliged to submit.
When we got home, my poor father said to Capt. I----, "Sir, I am sorry
that my child should be forced to run away from her owner; but the
treatment she has received is enough to break her heart. The sight of her
wounds has nearly broke mine.--I entreat you, for the love of God, to
forgive her for running away, and that you will be a kind master to her in
future." Capt. I---- said I was used as well as I deserved, and that I
ought to be punished for running away. I then took courage and said that I
could stand the floggings no longer; that I was weary of my life, and
therefore I had run away to my mother; but mothers could only weep and
mourn over their children, they could not save them from cruel
masters--from the whip, the rope, and the cow-skin. He told me to hold my
tongue and go about my work, or he would find a way to settle me. He did
not, however, flog me that day.
For five years after this I remained in his house, and almost daily
received the same harsh treatment. At length he put me on board a sloop,
and to my great joy sent me away to Turk's Island. I was not permitted to
see my mother or father, or poor sisters and brothers, to say good bye,
though going away to a strange land, and might never see them again. Oh
the Buckra people who keep slaves think that black people are like cattle,
without natural affection. But my heart tells me it is far otherwise.
We were nearly four weeks on the voyage, which was unusually long.
Sometimes we had a light breeze, sometimes a great calm, and the ship made
no way; so that our provisions and water ran very low, and we were put
upon short allowance. I should almost have been starved had it not been
for the kindness of a black man called Anthony, and his wife, who had
brought their own victuals, and shared them with me.
When we went ashore at the Grand Quay, the captain sent me to the house of
my new master, Mr. D----, to whom Captain I----had sold me. Grand Quay is
a small town upon a sandbank; the houses low and built of wood. Such was
my new master's. The first person I saw, on my arrival, was Mr. D----, a
stout sulky looking man, who carried me through the hall to show me to his
wife and children. Next day I was put up by the vendue master to know how
much I was worth, and I was valued at one hundred pounds currency.
My new master was one of the owners or holders of the salt ponds, and he
received a certain sum for every slave that worked upon his premises,
whether they were young or old. This sum was allowed him out of the
profits arising from the salt works. I was immediately sent to work in the
salt water with the rest of the slaves. This work was perfectly new to me.
I was given a half barrel and a shovel, and had to stand up to my knees in
the water, from four o'clock in the morning till nine, when we were given
some Indian corn boiled in water, which we were obliged to swallow as fast
as we could for fear the rain should come on and melt the salt. We were
then called again to our tasks, and worked through the heat of the day;
the sun flaming upon our heads like fire, and raising salt blisters in
those parts which were not completely covered. Our feet and legs, from
standing in the salt water for so many hours, soon became full of dreadful
boils, which eat down in some cases to the very bone, afflicting the
sufferers with great torment. We came home at twelve; ate our corn soup,
called _blawly_, as fast as we could, and went back to our employment till
dark at night. We then shovelled up the salt in large heaps, and went down
to the sea, where we washed the pickle from our limbs, and cleaned the
barrows and shovels from the salt. When we returned to the house, our
master gave us each our allowance of raw Indian corn, which we pounded in
a mortar and boiled in water for our suppers.
We slept in a long shed, divided into narrow slips, like the stalls used
for cattle. Boards fixed upon stakes driven into the ground, without mat
or covering, were our only beds. On Sundays, after we had washed the salt
bags, and done other work required of us, we went into the bush and cut
the long soft grass, of which we made trusses for our legs and feet to
rest upon, for they were so full of the salt boils that we could get no
rest lying upon the bare boards.
Though we worked from morning till night, there was no satisfying Mr.
D----. I hoped, when I left Capt. I----, that I should have been better
off, but I found it was but going from one butcher to another. There was
this difference between them: my former master used to beat me while
raging and foaming with passion; Mr. D---- was usually quite calm. He
would stand by and give orders for a slave to be cruelly whipped, and
assist in the punishment, without moving a muscle of his face; walking
about and taking snuff with the greatest composure. Nothing could touch
his hard heart--neither sighs, nor tears, nor prayers, nor streaming
blood; he was deaf to our cries, and careless of our sufferings. Mr. D----
has often stripped me naked, hung me up by the wrists, and beat me with
the cow-skin, with his own hand, till my body was raw with gashes. Yet
there was nothing very remarkable in this; for it might serve as a sample
of the common usage of the slaves on that horrible island.
Owing to the boils in my feet, I was unable to wheel the barrow fast
through the sand, which got into the sores, and made me stumble at every
step; and my master, having no pity for my sufferings from this cause,
rendered them far more intolerable, by chastising me for not being able to
move so fast as he wished me. Another of our employments was to row a
little way off from the shore in a boat, and dive for large stones to
build a wall round our master's house. This was very hard work; and the
great waves breaking over us continually, made us often so giddy that we
lost our footing, and were in danger of being drowned.
Ah, poor me!--my tasks were never ended. Sick or well, it was
work--work--work!--After the diving season was over, we were sent to the
South Creek, with large bills, to cut up mangoes to burn lime with. Whilst
one party of slaves were thus employed, another were sent to the other
side of the island to break up coral out of the sea.
When we were ill, let our complaint be what it might, the only medicine
given to us was a great bowl of hot salt water, with salt mixed with it,
which made us very sick. If we could not keep up with the rest of the gang
of slaves, we were put in the stocks, and severely flogged the next
morning. Yet, not the less, our master expected, after we had thus been
kept from our rest, and our limbs rendered stiff and sore with ill usage,
that we should still go through the ordinary tasks of the day all the
same.--Sometimes we had to work all night, measuring salt to load a
vessel; or turning a machine to draw water out of the sea for the
salt-making. Then we had no sleep--no rest--but were forced to work as
fast as we could, and go on again all next day the same as usual.
Work--work--work--Oh that Turk's Island was a horrible place! The people
in England, I am sure, have never found out what is carried on there.
Cruel, horrible place!
Mr. D---- had a slave called old Daniel, whom he used to treat in the most
cruel manner. Poor Daniel was lame in the hip, and could not keep up with
the rest of the slaves; and our master would order him to be stripped and
laid down on the ground, and have him beaten with a rod of rough briar
till his skin was quite red and raw. He would then call for a bucket of
salt, and fling upon the raw flesh till the man writhed on the ground like
a worm, and screamed aloud with agony. This poor man's wounds were never
healed, and I have often seen them full of maggots, which increased his
torments to an intolerable degree. He was an object of pity and terror to
the whole gang of slaves, and in his wretched case we saw, each of us, our
own lot, if we should live to be as old.
Oh the horrors of slavery!--How the thought of it pains my heart! But the
truth ought to be told of it; and what my eyes have seen I think it is my
duty to relate; for few people in England know what slavery is. I have
been a slave--I have felt what a slave feels, and I know what a slave
knows; and I would have all the good people in England to know it too,
that they may break our chains, and set us free.
Mr. D---- had another slave called Ben. He being very hungry, stole a
little rice one night after he came in from work, and cooked it for his
supper. But his master soon discovered the theft; locked him up all night;
and kept him without food till one o'clock the next day. He then hung Ben
up by his hands, and beat him from time to time till the slaves came in at
night. We found the poor creature hung up when we came home; with a pool
of blood beneath him, and our master still licking him. But this was not
the worst. My master's son was in the habit of stealing the rice and rum.
Ben had seen him do this, and thought he might do the same, and when
master found out that Ben had stolen the rice and swore to punish him, he
tried to excuse himself by saying that Master Dickey did the same thing
every night. The lad denied it to his father, and was so angry with Ben
for informing against him, that out of revenge he ran and got a bayonet,
and whilst the poor wretch was suspended by his hands and writhing under
his wounds, he run it quite through his foot. I was not by when he did it,
but I saw the wound when I came home, and heard Ben tell the manner in
which it was done.
I must say something more about this cruel son of a cruel father.--He had
no heart--no fear of God; he had been brought up by a bad father in a bad
path, and he delighted to follow in the same steps. There was a little old
woman among the slaves called Sarah, who was nearly past work; and, Master
Dickey being the overseer of the slaves just then, this poor creature, who
was subject to several bodily infirmities, and was not quite right in her
head, did not wheel the barrow fast enough to please him. He threw her
down on the ground, and after beating her severely, he took her up in his
arms and flung her among the prickly-pear bushes, which are all covered
over with sharp venomous prickles. By this her naked flesh was so
grievously wounded, that her body swelled and festered all over, and she
died a few days after. In telling my own sorrows, I cannot pass by those
of my fellow-slaves--for when I think of my own griefs, I remember theirs.
I think it was about ten years I had worked in the salt ponds at Turk's
Island, when my master left off business, and retired to a house he had in
Bermuda, leaving his son to succeed him in the island. He took me with him
to wait upon his daughters; and I was joyful, for I was sick, sick of
Turk's Island, and my heart yearned to see my native place again, my
mother, and my kindred.
I had seen my poor mother during the time I was a slave in Turk's Island.
One Sunday morning I was on the beach with some of the slaves, and we saw
a sloop come in loaded with slaves to work in the salt water. We got a
boat and went aboard. When I came upon the deck I asked the black people,
"Is there any one here for me?" "Yes," they said, "your mother." I thought
they said this in jest--I could scarcely believe them for joy; but when I
saw my poor mammy my joy was turned to sorrow, for she had gone from her
senses. "Mammy," I said, "is this you?" She did not know me. "Mammy," I
said, "what's the matter?" She began to talk foolishly, and said that she
had been under the vessel's bottom. They had been overtaken by a violent
storm at sea. My poor mother had never been on the sea before, and she was
so ill, that she lost her senses, and it was long before she came quite to
herself again. She had a sweet child with her--a little sister I had never
seen, about four years of age, called Rebecca. I took her on shore with
me, for I felt I should love her directly; and I kept her with me a week.
Poor little thing! her's has been a sad life, and continues so to this
day. My mother worked for some years on the island, but was taken back to
Bermuda some time before my master carried me again thither.[7]
[Footnote 7: Of the subsequent lot of her relatives she can tell but
little. She says, her father died while she and her mother were at Turk's
Island; and that he had been long dead and buried before any of his
children in Bermuda knew of it, they being slaves on other estates. Her
mother died after Mary went to Antigua. Of the fate of the rest of her
kindred, seven brothers and three sisters, she knows nothing further than
this--that the eldest sister, who had several children to her master, was
taken by him to Trinidad; and that the youngest, Rebecca, is still alive,
and in slavery in Bermuda. Mary herself is now about forty-three years of
age.--_Ed._]
After I left Turk's Island, I was told by some negroes that came over from
it, that the poor slaves had built up a place with boughs and leaves,
where they might meet for prayers, but the white people pulled it down
twice, and would not allow them even a shed for prayers. A flood came down
soon after and washed away many houses, filled the place with sand, and
overflowed the ponds: and I do think that this was for their wickedness;
for the Buckra men[8] there were very wicked. I saw and heard much that
was very very bad at that place.
[Footnote 8: Negro term for white people.]
I was several years the slave of Mr. D---- after I returned to my native
place. Here I worked in the grounds. My work was planting and hoeing
sweet-potatoes, Indian corn, plantains, bananas, cabbages, pumpkins,
onions, &c. I did all the household work, and attended upon a horse and
cow besides,--going also upon all errands. I had to curry the horse--to
clean and feed him--and sometimes to ride him a little. I had more than
enough to do--but still it was not so very bad as Turk's Island.
My old master often got drunk, and then he would get in a fury with his
daughter, and beat her till she was not fit to be seen. I remember on one
occasion, I had gone to fetch water, and when I Was coming up the hill I
heard a great screaming; I ran as fast as I could to the house, put down
the water, and went into the chamber, where I found my master beating Miss
D---- dreadfully. I strove with all my strength to get her away from him;
for she was all black and blue with bruises. He had beat her with his
fist, and almost killed her. The people gave me credit for getting her
away. He turned round and began to lick me. Then I said, "Sir, this is not
Turk's Island." I can't repeat his answer, the words were too wicked--too
bad to say. He wanted to treat me the same in Bermuda as he had done in
Turk's Island.
He had an ugly fashion of stripping himself quite naked, and ordering me
then to wash him in a tub of water. This was worse to me than all the
licks. Sometimes when he called me to wash him I would not come, my eyes
were so full of shame. He would then come to beat me. One time I had
plates and knives in my hand, and I dropped both plates and knives, and
some of the plates were broken. He struck me so severely for this, that at
last I defended myself, for I thought it was high time to do so. I then
told him I would not live longer with him, for he was a very indecent
man--very spiteful, and too indecent; with no shame for his servants, no
shame for his own flesh. So I went away to a neighbouring house and sat
down and cried till the next morning, when I went home again, not knowing
what else to do.
After that I was hired to work at Cedar Hills, and every Saturday night I
paid the money to my master. I had plenty of work to do there--plenty of
washing; but yet I made myself pretty comfortable. I earned two dollars
and a quarter a week, which is twenty pence a day.
During the time I worked there, I heard that Mr. John Wood was going to
Antigua. I felt a great wish to go there, and I went to Mr. D----, and
asked him to let me go in Mr. Wood's service. Mr. Wood did not then want
to purchase me; it was my own fault that I came under him, I was so
anxious to go. It was ordained to be, I suppose; God led me there. The
truth is, I did not wish to be any longer the slave of my indecent master.
Mr. Wood took me with him to Antigua, to the town of St. John's, where he
lived. This was about fifteen years ago. He did not then know whether I
was to be sold; but Mrs. Wood found that I could work, and she wanted to
buy me. Her husband then wrote to my master to inquire whether I was to be
sold? Mr. D---- wrote in reply, "that I should not be sold to any one that
would treat me ill." It was strange he should say this, when he had
treated me so ill himself. So I was purchased by Mr. Wood for 300 dollars,
(or £100 Bermuda currency.)[9]
[Footnote 9: About £67. 10s. sterling.]
My work there was to attend the chambers and nurse the child, and to go
down to the pond and wash clothes. But I soon fell ill of the rheumatism,
and grew so very lame that I was forced to walk with a stick. I got the
Saint Anthony's fire, also, in my left leg, and became quite a cripple. No
one cared much to come near me, and I was ill a long long time; for
several months I could not lift the limb. I had to lie in a little old
out-house, that was swarming with bugs and other vermin, which tormented
me greatly; but I had no other place to lie in. I got the rheumatism by
catching cold at the pond side, from washing in the fresh water; in the
salt water I never got cold. The person who lived in next yard, (a Mrs.
Greene,) could not bear to hear my cries and groans. She was kind, and
used to send an old slave woman to help me, who sometimes brought me a
little soup. When the doctor found I was so ill, he said I must be put
into a bath of hot water. The old slave got the bark of some bush that was
good for the pains, which she boiled in the hot water, and every night she
came and put me into the bath, and did what she could for me: I don't know
what I should have done, or what would have become of me, had it not been
for her.--My mistress, it is true, did send me a little food; but no one
from our family came near me but the cook, who used to shove my food in at
the door, and say, "Molly, Molly, there's your dinner." My mistress did not
care to take any trouble about me; and if the Lord had not put it into the
hearts of the neighbours to be kind to me, I must, I really think, have
lain and died.