DICK JENNINGS the slave-speculator, was one of the few Northern men, who
go to the South and throw aside their honest mode of obtaining a living
and resort to trading in human beings. A more repulsive-looking person
could scarcely be found in any community of bad looking men. Tall, lean
and lank, with high cheek-bones, face much pitted with the small-pox,
gray eyes with red eyebrows, and sandy whiskers, he indeed stood alone
without mate or fellow in looks. Jennings prided himself upon what he
called his goodness of heat, and was always speaking of his humanity. As
many of the slaves whom he intended taking to the New Orleans market had
been raised in Richmond, and had relations there, he determined to leave
the city early in the morning, so as not to witness any of the scenes
so common on the departure of a slave-gang to the far South. In this, he
was most successful; for not even Isabella, who had called at the prison
several times to see her mother and sister, was aware of the time that
they were to leave.
The slave-trader started at early dawn, and was beyond the confines of
the city long before the citizens were out of their beds. As a slave
regards a life on the sugar, cotton, or rice plantation as even worse
than death, they are ever on the watch for an opportunity to escape. The
trader, aware of this, secures his victims in chains before he sets out
on his journey. On this occasion, Jennings had the men chained in pairs,
while the women were allowed to go unfastened, but were closely watched.
After a march of eight days, the company arrived on the banks of
the Ohio River, where they took a steamer for the place of their
destination. Jennings had already advertised in the New Orleans papers,
that he would be there with a prime lot of able-bodied slaves, men
and women, fit for field-service, with a few extra ones calculated for
house-servants,--all between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five years;
but like most men who make a business of speculating in human beings, he
often bought many who were far advanced in years, and would try to pass
them off for five or six years younger than they were. Few persons
can arrive at anything approaching the real age of the negro, by mere
observation, unless they are well acquainted with the race. Therefore,
the slave-trader frequently carried out the deception with perfect
impunity.
After the steamer had left the wharf and was fairly out on the bosom of
the broad Mississippi, the speculator called his servant Pompey to him;
and instructed him as to getting the negroes ready for market. Among
the forty slaves that the trader had on this occasion, were some whose
appearance indicated that they had seen some years and had gone through
considerable service. Their gray hair and whiskers at once pronounced
them to be above the ages set down in the trader's advertisement. Pompey
had long been with Jennings, and understood his business well, and if
he did not take delight in the discharge of his duty, he did it at least
with a degree of alacrity, so that he might receive the approbation of
his master.
Pomp, as he was usually called by the trader, was of real negro blood,
and would often say, when alluding to himself, “Dis nigger am no
counterfeit, he is de ginuine artikle. Dis chile is none of your
haf-and-haf, dere is no bogus about him.”
Pompey was of low stature, round face, and, like most of his race, had
a set of teeth, which, for whiteness and beauty, could not be surpassed;
his eyes were large, lips thick, and hair short and woolly. Pompey had
been with Jennings so long, and had seen so much of buying and selling
of his fellow-creatures, that he appeared perfectly indifferent to the
heart-rending scenes which daily occurred in his presence. Such is the
force of habit:--
“Vice is a monster of such frightful mien,
That to be hated, needs but to be seen;
But seen too oft, familiar with its face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.”
It was on the second day of the steamer's voyage, that Pompey selected
five of the oldest slaves, took them into a room by themselves, and
commenced preparing them for the market.
“Now,” said he, addressing himself to the company, “I is de chap dat is
to get you ready for de Orleans market, so dat you will bring marser a
good price. How old is you?” addressing himself to a man not less than
forty.
“If I live to see next sweet-potato-digging time, I shall be either
forty or forty-five, I don't know which.”
“Dat may be,” replied Pompey; “but now you is only thirty years
old,--dat's what marser says you is to be.”
“I know I is more den dat,” responded the man.
“I can't help nuffin' about dat,” returned Pompey; “but when you get
into de market and any one ax you how old you is, and you tell um you is
forty or forty-five, marser will tie you up and cut you all to pieces.
But if you tell um dat you is only thirty, den he won't. Now remember
dat you is thirty years old and no more.”
“Well den, I guess I will only be thirty when dey ax me.”
“What's your name?” said Pompey, addressing himself to another.
“Jeems.”
“Oh! Uncle Jim, is it?” “Yes.”
“Den you must have all them gray whiskers shaved off, and all dem gray
hairs plucked out of your head.” This was all said by Pompey in a manner
which showed that he knew what he was about.
“How old is you?” asked Pompey of a tall, strong-looking man. “What's
your name?”
“I am twenty-nine years old, and my name is Tobias, but they calls me
Toby.”
“Well, Toby, or Mr. Tobias, if dat will suit you better, you are now
twenty-three years old; dat's all,--do you understand dat?”
“Yes,” replied Toby.
Pompey now gave them all to understand how old they were to be when
asked by persons who were likely to purchase, and then went and reported
to his master that the old boys were all right.
“Be sure,” said Jennings, “that the niggers don't forget what you have
taught them, for our luck this time in the market depends upon their
appearance. If any of them have so many gray hairs that you cannot pluck
them out, take the blacking and brush, and go at them.”