THE FIRST DAY OF SERVITUDE.
Thus began my captivity. Thus I began to sit beside the waters of
Babylon, more wretched than the daughters of Zion, because they wept
together, while I wept alone. I looked for no release or escape
until the Lord should mercifully please to call me away by opening
the Gate of Death. For even if I were released--if by living out
the ten years of servitude I could claim my freedom, of what use
would it be to me? Whither could I fly? where hide myself? Yet you
shall hear, if you will read, how a way, terrible at first and full
of peril, was unexpectedly opened, and in what strange manner was
wrought my deliverance.
We arrived at our new master's estate--which was, as I have said,
about seven miles from the port--towards sundown. We were marched
(rather, driven) to a kind of village, consisting of a double row
of huts or cottages, forming a broad street, in the middle of which
there were planted a large number of the fruit-trees named here
bonannows (they are a kind of plantain). The green fruit was hanging
in clusters, as yet unripe; but the leaves, which are also the
branches, being for the most part blown into long shreds, or rags,
by the wind, had an untidy appearance. The cottages looked more like
pigsties for size and shape; they were built of sticks, withs, and
plantain-leaves both for sides and for roof. Chimneys had they none,
nor windows; some of them had no door, but an opening only. Thus are
housed the servants and slaves of a plantation. The furniture within
is such as the occupants contrive. Sometimes there is a hammock or a
pallet with grass mats and rugs; there are some simple platters and
basins. In each hut there are two, three, or four occupants.
Here let me in brief make an end of describing the buildings on
this estate, which were, I suppose, like those of every other. If
you were to draw a great square, in which to lay down or figure the
buildings, you would have in one corner the street or village of
the people; next to the village lies the great pond which serves
for drinking-water as well as for washing. The negroes are fond
of swimming and bathing in it, and they say that the water is not
fouled thereby, which I cannot understand. In the opposite corner
you must place the Ingenio, or house where the sugar-canes are
brought to be crushed and ground, and the sugar is made. There
are all kinds of machines, with great wheels, small wheels, cogs,
gutters for running the juice, and contrivances which I cannot
remember. Some of the Ingenios are worked by a windmill, others by
horses and assinegoes. There is in every one a still where they make
that fiery spirit which they call "kill-devil." Near the Ingenio
are the stables, where there are horses, oxen, assinegoes, and the
curious beast spoken of in Holy Writ called the camel. It hath been
brought here from Africa, and is much used for carrying the sugar.
The open space around the Ingenio is generally covered and strewed
with trash, which is the crushed stalk of the cane. It always gives
forth a sour smell (as if fermenting), which I cannot think to be
wholesome. In the fourth corner is the planter's house. Considering
that these people sometimes grow so rich that they come home and buy
great estates, it is wonderful that they should consent to live in
houses so mean and paltry. They are of wood, with roofs so low that
one can hardly stand upright in them; and the people are so afraid
of the cool wind which blows from the east that they have neither
doors nor windows on that side; but will have them all towards the
west, whence cometh the chief heat of the sun--namely, the afternoon
heat. Their furniture is rude, and they have neither tapestry, nor
wainscoted walls, nor any kind of ornament. Yet they live always
in the greatest luxury, eating and drinking of the best. Some of
the houses--my master's among them--have an open verandah (as they
call it: in Somersetshire we should call it a linney) running round
three sides of the house, with coarse canvas curtains which can be
let down so as to keep out the sun, or drawn up to admit the air.
But their way of living--though they eat and drink of the best--is
rude, even compared with that of our farmers at home; and a thriving
tradesman, say, of Taunton, would scorn to live in such a house
as contenteth a wealthy planter of Barbadoes. Behind the house is
always a spacious garden, in which grow all kinds of fruits and
vegetables, and all round the buildings on every side stretched the
broad fields of sugar-canes, which, when they are in their flower or
blossom of grey and silver, wave in the wind more beautifully than
even a field of barley in England.
On the approach of our party and hearing the voices of the
overseers, a gentlewoman (so, at least, she seemed) came out of the
house and stood upon the verandah, shading her eyes and looking at
the gang of wretches. She was dressed splendidly in a silken gown
and flowered petticoat, as if she was a very great lady, indeed;
over her head lay a kerchief of rich black lace; round her neck was
a gold chain; when she slowly descended the steps of the verandah
and walked towards us I observed that she was of a darker skin than
it is customary to find at home; it was, indeed, somewhat like the
skin of the gipsy people; her features were straight and regular;
her hair was quite black; her eyes were also black, and large,
shaped like almonds. On her wrists were heavy gold bracelets, and
her fingers were loaded with rings. She seemed about thirty years
of age. She was a woman of tall and fine presence, and she stood
and moved as if she was a queen. She presently came forth from the
verandah and walked across the yard towards us.
'Let me look at them--your new batch,' she said, speaking languidly,
and with an accent somewhat foreign. 'How many are there? Where do
they come from? Who is this one, for instance?' She took the girl
named Deb by the chin, and looked at her as if she were some animal
to be sold in the market. 'A stout wench, truly. What was she over
there?'
The overseer read the name and the crimes of the prisoner. Madam
(this was the only name by which I knew her) pushed her away
disdainfully.
'Well,' she said, 'she will find companions enough here. I hope she
will work without the whip. Hark ye, girl,' she added with, I think,
kindly intent, 'it goes still to my heart when I hear that the women
have been trounced; but the work must be done. Remember that! And
who are those--and those?' She pointed with contempt to the poor
creatures covered with dirt and dust, and in the ragged, miserable
clothes they had worn all the voyage. 'Street sweepings; rogues and
thieves all. Let them know,' she said grandly, 'what awaits those
who skulk and those who thieve. And whom have we here?'--she turned
to me--'Is this some fine city madam fresh from Bridewell?'
'This prisoner,' said the overseer, 'is described as a rebel in the
late Monmouth rising.'
'A rebel? Truly?' she asked with curiosity. 'Were Monmouth's
soldiers women? We heard by the last ship something of this. Madam,
I know not why you must needs become a rebel; but this, look you, is
no place for gentlewomen to sit down and fold their arms.'
'Madam,' I replied, 'I look for nothing less than to work, being now
a convict (though I was never tried) and condemned--I know not by
whom--to transportation in his Majesty's Plantations.'
'Let me look at your hands,' she said sharply. 'Why, of what use
are these little fingers? They have never done any work. And your
face--prithee, turn back your hood.' I obeyed, and her eyes suddenly
softened. Indeed, I looked not for this sign of compassion, and my
own tears began to flow. ''Tis a shame!' she cried. ''Tis a burning
shame to send so young a woman--and a gentlewoman, and one with such
a face--to the Plantations! Have they no bowels? Child, who put thee
aboard the ship?'
'I was brought on board by one Mr. Penne, who deceived me, promising
that I should be taken to New England, where I have cousins.'
'We will speak of this presently. Meantime--since we must by the law
find you some work to do--can you sew?'
'Yes, Madam, I can perform any kind of needlework, from plain sewing
to embroidery.'
'What mean they,' she cried again, 'by sending a helpless girl alone
with such a crew? The very Spaniards of whom they talk so much would
blush for such barbarity. Well, they would send her to a convent
where the good Nuns would treat her kindly. Madam, or Miss, thou art
bought, and the master may not, by law, release you. But there is a
way of which we will talk presently. Meanwhile, thou canst sit in
the sewing-room, where we may find thee work.'
I thanked her. She would have said more; but there came forth
from the house, with staggering step, the man who had bought us.
He had now put off his wig and his scarlet coat, and wore a white
dressing-gown and a linen nightcap. He had in his hand a whip, which
he cracked as he walked.
'Child,' said Madam, quickly, 'pull down your hood. Hide your face.
He hath been drinking, and at such times he is dangerous. Let him
never set eyes upon thee save when he is sober.'
He came rolling and staggering, and yet not so drunk but he could
speak, though his voice was thick.
'Oho!' he cried. 'Here are the new servants. Stand up, every man and
woman. Stand up, I say!' Here he cracked his whip, and they obeyed,
trembling. But Madam placed herself in front of me. 'Let me look
at ye.' He walked along the line, calling the unhappy creatures
vile and foul names. O shame! thus to mock their misery! 'What!' he
cried. 'You think you have come to a country where there is nothing
to do but lie on your backs and eat turtle and drink mobbie? What!
You shall find out your mistake.' Here he cracked his whip again.
'You shall work all day in the field, not because you like it, but
because you must. For your food, it shall be loblollie, and for
your drink, water from the pond. What, I say! Those who skulk shall
learn that the Newgate "cat" is tender compared with her brother of
Barbadoes. Tremble, therefore, ye devils all; tremble!'
They trembled visibly. All were now subdued. Those of them who
swaggered--the dare-devil reckless blades--when first we sailed,
were now transformed into cowardly, trembling wretches, all
half-starved, and some reduced with fevers, with no more spirit left
than enabled them still to curse and swear. The feeblest of mortals,
the lowest of human wretches, has still left so much strength and
will that he can sink his immortal soul lower still--a terrible
power, truly!
Then Madam drew me aside gently, and led me to a place like a barn,
where many women, white and black, sat sewing, and a great quantity
of little black babies and naked children played about under their
charge. The white women were sad and silent; the blacks, I saw with
surprise, were all chattering and laughing. The negro is happy, if
he have enough to eat and drink, whether he be slave or free. Madam
sat down upon a bench, and caused me to sit beside her.
'Tell me,' she said, kindly, 'what this means. When did women begin
to rebel? If men are such fools as to go forth and fight, let them;
but for women'----
'Indeed,' I told her, 'I did not fight.'
Then nothing would do but I must tell her all, from the
beginning--my name, my family, and my history. But I told her
nothing about my marriage.
'So,' she said, 'you have lost father, mother, brothers, lover,
and friends by this pretty business. And all because they will not
suffer the King to worship in his own way. Well, 'tis hard for you.
To be plain, it may be harder than you think, or I can help. You
have been bought for sixty pounds, and that not for any profit that
your work will bring to the estate, because such as you are but a
loss and a burden; but only in the hope that your friends will pay a
great sum for ransom.'
'Madam, I have indeed no friends left who can do this for me.'
'If so, it is indeed unfortunate. For presently the master will look
for letters on your behalf, and if none come I know not what he
may threaten, or what he may do. But think--try to find some one.
Consider, your lot here must be hard at best; whereas, if you are
released, you can live where you please; you may even marry whom
you please, because beautiful young gentlewomen like yourself are
scarce indeed in Barbadoes. 'Tis Christian charity to set you free.
Remember, Child, that money will do here what I suppose it will do
anywhere--all are slaves to money. You have six months before you in
which to write to your friends and to receive an answer. If in that
time nothing comes, I tell thee again, Child, that I know not what
will happen. As for the life in the fields, it would kill thee in a
week.'
'Perhaps, if the Lord so wills,' I replied helplessly, 'that may
be best. Friends have I none now, nor any whom I could ask for
help--save the Lord alone. I will ask for work in the fields.'
'Perhaps he may forget thee,' she said--meaning the master. 'But no;
a man who hath once seen thy face will never forget thee. My dear,
he told me when he came home that he had bought a woman whose beauty
would set the island in flames. Pray heaven he come not near thee
when he is in liquor. Hide that face, Child. Hide that face. Let
him never see thee. Oh! there are dangers worse than labour in the
fields--worse than whip of overseer!' She sprang to her feet, and
clasped her hands. 'You talk of the Lord's will! What hath the Lord
to do with this place? Here is nothing but debauchery and drinking,
cruelty and greed. Why have they sent here a woman who prays?'
Then she sat down again and took my hand.
'Tender maid,' she said, 'thy face is exactly such as the face of a
certain saint--'tis in a picture which hangs in the chapel of the
convent where the good nuns brought me up long ago, before I came to
this place--long ago. Yes, I forget the name of the saint; thou hast
her face. She stood, in the picture, surrounded by soldiers who had
red hair, and looked like devils--English devils, the nuns said.
Her eyes were raised to heaven, and she prayed. But what was done
unto her I know not, because there was no other picture. Now she
sits upon a throne in the presence of the Mother of God.'
The tears stood in her great black eyes--I take it that she was
thinking of the days when she was young.
'Well, we must keep thee out of his way. While he is sober he
listens to reason, and thinks continually upon his estate and his
gains. When he is drunk no one can hold him, and reason is lost on
him.'
She presently brought me a manchet of white bread and a glass of
Madeira wine, and then told me that she would give me the best
cottage that the estate possessed, and, for my better protection,
another woman to share it with me. I thanked her again, and asked
that I might have the girl called Deb, which she readily granted.
And so my first day of servitude ended in thus happily finding a
protector. As for the cottage, it was a poor thing; but it had
a door, and a window with a shutter. The furniture was a pallet
with two thick rugs, and nothing more. My condition was desperate,
indeed; but yet, had I considered, I had been, so far, most
mercifully protected. I was shipped as a convict (it is true) by
a treacherous villain; but on the ship I found a compassionate
captain, who saved me from the company among whom I must otherwise
have dwelt. I was sold to a drunken and greedy planter; but I found
a compassionate woman who promised to do what she could; and I had
for my companion the woman who had become a most faithful maid to
me upon the voyage, and who still continued in her fidelity and her
love. Greater mercies yet--and also greater troubles--were in store,
as you shall see.