"Dr. Polk and his son, the one my mother beat up and left lying on the
ground, were two mean men. When the slaves didn't pick enough cotton for
them, they would take them down the field, and turn up their clothes,
till they was naked, and beat them nearly to death.
"Mother was a breeder. While she did that weaving, she had children
fast. One day, Tom Polk hit my mother. That was before she ran away. He
hit her because she didn't pick the required amount of cotton. When
there was nothin' to do at the loom, mother had to go in the field, you
know. I forget how much cotton they had to pick. I don't know how many
times he hit her. I was small. I heard some one say, 'They got Clarisay
Down, down there!' I went to see. And they had her down. She was stout,
and they had dug a hole in the ground to put her belly in. I never did
get over that. I'm an old woman, but Tom Polk better not come 'round me
now even.
"I have heard women scream and holler, 'Do pray, massa, do pray.' And I
was sure glad when she beat up young Tom and got away. I didn't have no
use for neither one of 'em, and ain't yet.
"It wasn't her work to be in the field. He made her breed and then made
her work at the loom. That wasn't nothin'. He would have children by a
nigger woman and then have them by her daughter.
"I went out one day and got a gun. I don't know whose gun it was. I said
to myself, 'If you whip my mother today, I am goin' to shoot you.' I
didn't know where the gun belonged. My oldest sister told me to take it
and set it by the door, and I did it.