I had been in jail but a short time when I heard that my master was
sick, and nothing brought more joy to my heart than that intelligence.
I prayed fervently for him--not for his recovery, but for his death. I
knew he would be exasperated at having to pay for my apprehension, and
knowing his cruelty, I feared him. While in jail, I learned that my
sister Elizabeth, who was in prison when we left the city, had been
carried off four days before our arrival.
I had been in jail but a few hours when three negro-traders, learning
that I was secured thus for running away, came to my prison-house and
looked at me, expecting that I would be offered for sale. Mr. Mansfield,
the man who owned mother, came into the jail as soon as Mr. Jones, the
man who arrested us, informed him that he had brought her back. He told
her that he would not whip her, but would sell her to a negro-trader,
or take her to New Orleans himself. After being in jail about one week,
master sent a man to take me out of jail, and send me home. I was taken
out and carried home, and the old man was well enough to sit up. He had
me brought into the room where he was, and as I entered, he asked me
where I had been? I told him I had acted according to his orders. He
had told me to look for a master, and I had been to look for one. He
answered that he did not tell me to go to Canada to look for a master. I
told him that as I had served him faithfully, and had been the means of
putting a number of hundreds of dollars into his pocket, I thought I had
a right to my liberty. He said he had promised my father that I should
not be sold to supply the New Orleans market, or he would sell me to a
negro-trader.
I was ordered to go into the field to work, and was closely watched by
the overseer during the day, and locked up at night. The overseer gave
me a severe whipping on the second day that I was in the field. I had
been at home but a short time, when master was able to ride to the city;
and on his return he informed me that he had sold me to Samuel Willi,
a merchant tailor. I knew Mr. Willi. I had lived with him three or four
months some years before when he hired me of my master.
Mr. Willi was not considered by his servants as a very bad man, nor was
he the best of masters. I went to my new home, and found my new mistress
very glad to see me. Mr. Willi owned two servants before he purchased
me--Robert and Charlotte. Robert was an excellent white-washer, and
hired his time from his master, paying him one dollar per day, besides
taking care of himself. He was known in the city by the name of Bob
Music. Charlotte was an old woman, who attended to the cooking, washing,
&c. Mr. Willi was not a wealthy man, and did not feel able to keep many
servants around his house; so he soon decided to hire me out, and as I
had been accustomed to service in steamboats, he gave me the privilege
of finding such employment.
I soon secured a situation on board the steamer Otto, Capt. J. B. Hill,
which sailed from St. Louis to Independence, Missouri. My former master,
Dr. Young, did not let Mr. Willi know that I had run away, or he would
not have permitted me to go on board a steamboat. The boat was not quite
ready to commence running, and therefore I had to remain with Mr. Willi.
But during this time, I had to undergo a trial for which I was entirely
unprepared. My mother, who had been in jail since her return until the
present time, was now about being carried to New Orleans, to die on a
cotton, sugar, or rice plantation!
I had been several times to the jail, but could obtain no interview
with her. I ascertained, however, the time the boat in which she was to
embark would sail, and as I had not seen mother since her being thrown
into prison, I felt anxious for the hour of sailing to come. At last,
the day arrived when I was to see her for the first time after our
painful separation, and, for aught that I knew, for the last time in
this world!
At about ten o’clock in the morning I went on board of the boat, and
found her there in company with, fifty or sixty other slaves. She was
chained to another woman. On seeing me, she immediately dropped her
head upon her heaving bosom. She moved not, neither did she weep. Her
emotions were too deep for tears. I approached, threw my arms around her
neck, kissed her, and fell upon my knees, begging her forgiveness, for
I thought myself to blame for her sad condition; for if I had not
persuaded her to accompany me, she would not then have been in chains.
She finally raised her head, looked me in the lace, (and such a look
none but an angel can give!) and said, “_My dear son, you are not to
blame for my being here. You have done nothing more nor less than your
duty. Do not, I pray you, weep for me. I cannot last long upon a cotton
plantation. I feel that my heavenly Master will soon call me home, and
then I shall be out of the hands of the slave-holders!_”
I could bear no more--my heart struggled to free itself from the human
form. In a moment she saw Mr. Mansfield coming toward that part of the
boat, and she whispered into my ear, “_My child, we must soon part to
meet no more this side of the grave. You have ever said that you would
not die a slave; that you would be a freeman. Now try to get your
liberty! You will soon have no one to look after but yourself!_” and
just as she whispered the last sentence into my ear, Mansfield came up
to me, and with an oath, said, “Leave here this instant; you have been
the means of my losing one hundred dollars to get this wench back”--at
the same time kicking me with a heavy pair of boots. As I left her, she
gave one shriek, saying, “God be with you!” It was the last time that I
saw her, and the last word I heard her utter.
I walked on shore. The bell was tolling. The boat was about to start.
I stood with a heavy heart, waiting to see her leave the wharf. As I
thought of my mother, I could but feel that I had lost
“------the glory of my life,
My blessing and my pride!
I half forgot the name of slave,
When she was by my side.”
The love of liberty that had been burning in my bosom had well-nigh gone
out. I felt as though I was ready to die. The boat moved gently from the
wharf, and while she glided down the river, I realized that my mother
was indeed
“Gone--gone--sold and gone,
To the rice swamp, dank and lone!”
After the boat was out of sight I returned home; but my thoughts were so
absorbed in what I had witnessed, that I knew not what I was about half
of the time. Night came, but it brought no sleep to my eyes.
In a few days, the boat upon which I was to work being ready, I went on
board to commence. This employment suited me better than living in the
city, and I remained until the close of navigation; though it
proved anything but pleasant. The captain was a drunken, profligate,
hardhearted creature, not knowing how to treat himself, or any other
person.
The boat, on its second trip, brought down Mr. Walker, the man of whom I
have spoken in a previous chapter, as hiring my time. He had between one
and two hundred slaves, chained and manacled. Among them was a man that
formerly belonged to my old master’s brother, Aaron Young. His name was
Solomon. He was a preacher, and belonged to the same church with his
master. I was glad to see the old man. He wept like a child when he told
me how he had been sold from his wife and children.
The boat carried down, while I remained on board, four or five gangs of
slaves. Missouri, though a comparatively new state, is very much engaged
in raising slaves to supply the southern market. In a former chapter,
I have mentioned that I was once in the employ of a slave-trader, or
driver, as he is called at the south. For fear that some may think that
I have misrepresented a slave-driver, I will here give an extract from
a paper published in a slave-holding state, Tennessee called the
“Millennial Trumpeter.”
“Droves of negroes, chained together in dozens and scores, and
hand-cuffed, have been driven through our country in numbers far
surpassing any previous year, and these vile slave-drivers and dealers
are swarming like buzzards around a carrion. Through this county, you
cannot pass a few miles in the great roads without having every feeling
of humanity insulted and lacerated by this spectacle, nor can you go
into any county or any neighborhood, scarcely, without seeing or hearing
of some of these despicable creatures, called negro-drivers.
“Who is a negro-driver? One whose eyes dwell with delight on lacerated
bodies of helpless men, women and children; whose soul feels diabolical
raptures at the chains, and hand-cuffs, and cart-whips, for inflicting
tortures on weeping mothers torn from helpless babes, and on husbands
and wives torn asunder forever!”
Dark and revolting as is the picture here drawn, it is from the pen of
one living in the midst of slavery. But though these men may cant about
negro-drivers, and tell what despicable creatures they are, who is it,
I ask, that supplies them with the human beings that they are tearing
asunder?
I answer, as far as I have any knowledge of the state where I came from,
that those who raise slaves for the market are to be found among all
classes, from Thomas H. Benton down to the lowest political demagogue
who may be able to purchase a woman for the purpose of raising stock,
and from the doctor of divinity down to the most humble lay member in
the church.
It was not uncommon in St. Louis to pass by an auction-stand, and behold
a woman upon the auction-block, and hear the seller crying out,
“_How much is offered for this woman? She is a good cook, good washer, a
good obedient servant. She has got religion!_” Why should this man tell
the purchasers that she has religion? I answer, because in Missouri,
and as far as I have any knowledge of slavery in the other states, the
religious teaching consists in teaching the slave that he must never
strike a white man; that God made him for a slave; and that, when
whipped, he must not find fault--for the Bible says, “_He that knoweth
his master’s will and doeth it not, shall be beaten with many stripes!_”
And slaveholders find such religion very profitable to them.
After leaving the steamer Otto, I resided at home, in Mr. Willi’s
family, and again began to lay my plans for making my escape from
slavery. The anxiety to be a freeman would not let me rest day or night.
I would think of the northern cities that I had heard so much about;--of
Canada, where so many of my acquaintances had found a refuge. I would
dream at night that I was in Canada, a freeman, and on waking in the
morning, weep to find myself so sadly mistaken.
“I would think of Victoria’s domain,
And in a moment I seemed to be there!
But the fear of being taken again,
Soon hurried me back to despair.”
Mr. Willi treated me better than Dr. Young ever had; but instead of
making me contented and happy, it only rendered me the more miserable,
for it enabled me better to appreciate liberty. Mr. Willi was a man who
loved money as most men do, and without looking for an opportunity to
sell me, he found one in the offer of Captain Enoch Price, a steamboat
owner and commission merchant, living in the city of St. Louis. Captain
Price tendered seven hundred dollars, which was two hundred more than
Mr. Willi had paid. He therefore thought best to accept the offer. I was
wanted for a carriage driver, and Mrs. Price was very much pleased with
the captain’s bargain. His family consisted of himself, wife, one child,
and three servants, besides myself,--one man and two women.
Mrs. Price was very proud of her servants, always keeping them well
dressed, and as soon as I had been purchased, she resolved to have a new
carriage. And soon one was procured, and all preparations were made for
a turn-out in grand style, I being the driver.
One of the female servants was a girl some eighteen or twenty years of
age, named Maria. Mrs. Price was very soon determined to have us united,
if she could so arrange matters. She would often urge upon me the
necessity of having a wife, saying that it would be so pleasant for me
to take one in the same family! But getting married, while in slavery,
was the last of my thoughts; and had I been ever so inclined, I should
not have married Maria, as my love had already gone in another quarter.
Mrs. Price soon found out that her efforts at this match-making between
Maria and myself would not prove successful. She also discovered (or
thought she had) that I was rather partial to a girl named Eliza,
who was owned by Dr. Mills. This induced her at once to endeavor the
purchase of Eliza, so great was her desire to get me a wife!
Before making the attempt, however, she deemed it best to talk to me a
little upon the subject of love, courtship, and marriage. Accordingly,
one afternoon she called me into her room--telling me to take a chair
and sit down. I did so, thinking it rather strange, for servants are not
very often asked thus to sit down in the same room with the master or
mistress. She said that she had found out that I did not care enough
about Maria to marry her. I told her that was true. She then asked me
if there was not a girl in the city that I loved. Well, now, this was
coming into too close quarters with me! People, generally, don’t like
to tell their love stories to everybody that may think fit to ask about
them, and it was so with me. But, after blushing a while and recovering
myself, I told her that I did not want a wife. She then asked me if I
did not think something of Eliza. I told her that I did. She then said
that if I wished to marry Eliza, she would purchase her if she could.
I gave but little encouragement to this proposition, as I was determined
to make another trial to get my liberty, and I knew that if I should
have a wife, I should not be willing to leave her behind; and if I
should attempt to bring her with me, the chances would be difficult for
success. However, Eliza was purchased, and brought into the family.