 | Incidents in the life of a slave girl |  |
XIX.
THE CHILDREN SOLD.
The doctor came back from New York, of course
without accomplishing his purpose. He had expended
considerable money, and was rather disheartened. My
brother and the children had now been in jail two
months, and that also was some expense. My friends
thought it was a favorable time to work on his discouraged
feelings. Mr. Sands sent a speculator to
offer him nine hundred dollars for my brother William,
and eight hundred for the two children. These
were high prices, as slaves were then selling; but the
offer was rejected. If it had been merely a question
of money, the doctor would have sold any boy of
Benny's age for two hundred dollars; but he could
not bear to give up the power of revenge. But he
was hard pressed for money, and he revolved the matter
in his mind. He knew that if he could keep Ellen till
she was fifteen, he could sell her for a high price; but
I presume he reflected that she might die, or might be
stolen away. At all events, he came to the conclusion
that he had better accept the slave-trader's offer.
Meeting him in the street, he inquired when he would
leave town. “To-day, at ten o'clock,” he replied.
“Ah, do you go so soon?” said the doctor; “I have
been reflecting upon your proposition, and I have concluded
to let you have the three negroes if you will
say nineteen hundred dollars.” After some parley,
sale drawn up and signed immediately, as he had a
great deal to attend to during the short time he remained
in town. The doctor went to the jail and told
William he would take him back into his service if he
would promise to behave himself; but he replied that he
would rather be sold. “And you shall be sold, you ungrateful
rascal!” exclaimed the doctor. In less than
an hour the money was paid, the papers were signed,
sealed, and delivered, and my brother and children
were in the hands of the trader.
It was a hurried transaction; and after it was over,
the doctor's characteristic caution returned. He went
back to the speculator, and said, “Sir, I have come to
lay you under obligations of a thousand dollars not to
sell any of those negroes in this state.” “You come
too late,” replied the trader; “our bargain is closed.”
He had, in fact, already sold them to Mr. Sands, but
he did not mention it. The doctor required him to
put irons on “that rascal, Bill,” and to pass through
the back streets when he took his gang out of town.
The trader was privately instructed to concede to his
wishes. My good old aunt went to the jail to bid the
children good by, supposing them to be the speculator's
property, and that she should never see them
again. As she held Benny in her lap, he said, “Aunt
Nancy, I want to show you something.” He led her
to the door and showed her a long row of marks, saying,
“Uncle Will taught me to count. I have made a
mark for every day I have been here, and it is sixty
days. It is a long time; and the speculator is going
to take me and Ellen away. He's a bad man. It's
to go to my mother.”
My grandmother was told that the children would
be restored to her, but she was requested to act as if
they were really to be sent away. Accordingly, she
made up a bundle of clothes and went to the jail.
When she arrived, she found William handcuffed
among the gang, and the children in the trader's cart.
The scene seemed too much like reality. She was
afraid there might have been some deception or mistake.
She fainted, and was carried home.
When the wagon stopped at the hotel, several gentlemen
came out and proposed to purchase William, but
the trader refused their offers, without stating that he
was already sold. And now came the trying hour for
that drove of human beings, driven away like cattle, to
be sold they knew not where. Husbands were torn from
wives, parents from children, never to look upon each
other again this side the grave. There was wringing
of hands and cries of despair.
Dr. Flint had the supreme satisfaction of seeing the
wagon leave town, and Mrs. Flint had the gratification
of supposing that my children were going “as far as
wind and water would carry them.” According to
agreement, my uncle followed the wagon some miles,
until they came to an old farm house. There the
trader took the irons from William, and as he did so,
he said, “You are a damned clever fellow. I should
like to own you myself. Them gentlemen that wanted
to buy you said you was a bright, honest chap, and I
must git you a good home. I guess your old master
will swear to-morrow, and call himself an old fool for
mammy back agin. I expect she's made tracks for
the north. Good by, old boy. Remember, I have
done you a good turn. You must thank me by coaxing
all the pretty gals to go with me next fall. That's
going to be my last trip. This trading in niggers is a
bad business for a fellow that's got any heart. Move
on, you fellows!” And the gang went on, God alone
knows where.
Much as I despise and detest the class of slave-traders,
whom I regard as the vilest wretches on earth, I must
do this man the justice to say that he seemed to have
some feeling. He took a fancy to William in the jail,
and wanted to buy him. When he heard the story of
my children, he was willing to aid them in getting out
of Dr. Flint's power, even without charging the
customary fee.
My uncle procured a wagon and carried William
and the children back to town. Great was the joy
in my grandmother's house! The curtains were
closed, and the candles lighted. The happy grandmother
cuddled the little ones to her bosom. They
hugged her, and kissed her, and clapped their hands,
and shouted. She knelt down and poured forth one
of her heartfelt prayers of thanksgiving to God. The
father was present for a while; and though such a
“parental relation” as existed between him and my
children takes slight hold of the hearts or consciences
of slaveholders, it must be that he experienced some
moments of pure joy in witnessing the happiness he
had imparted.
I had no share in the rejoicings of that evening.
And now I will tell you something that happened to
me; though you will, perhaps, think it illustrates the
superstition of slaves. I sat in my usual place on the
floor near the window, where I could hear much that
was said in the street without being seen. The family
had retired for the night, and all was still. I sat there
thinking of my children, when I heard a low strain of
music. A band of serenaders were under the window,
playing “Home, sweet home.” I listened till the
sounds did not seem like music, but like the moaning
of children. It seemed as if my heart would burst.
I rose from my sitting posture, and knelt. A streak
of moonlight was on the floor before me, and in the
midst of it appeared the forms of my two children.
They vanished; but I had seen them distinctly. Some
will call it a dream, others a vision. I know not how
to account for it, but it made a strong impression on
my mind, and I felt certain something had happened
to my little ones.
I had not seen Betty since morning. Now I heard
her softly turning the key. As soon as she entered, I
clung to her, and begged her to let me know whether
my children were dead, or whether they were sold; for
I had seen their spirits in my room, and I was sure
something had happened to them. “Lor, chile,” said
she, putting her arms round me, “you's got de highsteries.
I'll sleep wid you to-night, 'cause you'll make
a noise, and ruin missis. Something has stirred you
up mightily. When you is done cryin, I'll talk wid you.
De chillern is well, and mighty happy. I seed 'em myself.
Does dat satisfy you? Dar, chile, be still! Somebody
down, and was soon sound asleep; but no sleep would
come to my eyelids.
At dawn, Betty was up and off to the kitchen. The
hours passed on, and the vision of the night kept constantly
recurring to my thoughts. After a while I
heard the voices of two women in the entry. In one
of them I recognized the housemaid. The other said
to her, “Did you know Linda Brent's children was sold
to the speculator yesterday. They say ole massa Flint
was mighty glad to see 'em drove out of town; but
they say they've come back agin. I 'spect it's all their
daddy's doings. They say he's bought William too.
Lor! how it will take hold of ole massa Flint! I'm
going roun' to aunt Marthy's to see 'bout it.”
I bit my lips till the blood came to keep from crying
out. Were my children with their grandmother,
or had the speculator carried them off? The suspense
was dreadful. Would Betty never come, and tell me
the truth about it? At last she came, and I eagerly
repeated what I had overheard. Her face was one
broad, bright smile. “Lor, you foolish ting!” said
she. “I'se gwine to tell you all 'bout it. De gals is
eating thar breakfast, and missus tole me to let her tell
you; but, poor creeter! t'aint right to keep you waitin',
and I'se gwine to tell you. Brudder, chillern, all is
bought by de daddy! I'se laugh more dan nuff, tinking
'bout ole massa Flint. Lor, how he vill swar! He's
got ketched dis time, any how; but I must be getting
out o' dis, or dem gals vill come and ketch me.”
Betty went off laughing; and I said to myself, “Can
it be true that my children are free? I have not suffered
for them in vain. Thank God!”
Great surprise was expressed when it was known
that my children had returned to their grandmother's.
The news spread through the town, and many a kind
word was bestowed on the little ones.
Dr. Flint went to my grandmother's to ascertain who
was the owner of my children, and she informed him.
“I expected as much,” said he. “I am glad to hear
it. I have had news from Linda lately, and I shall
soon have her. You need never expect to see her free.
She shall be my slave as long as I live, and when I am
dead she shall be the slave of my children. If I ever
find out that you or Phillip had any thing to do with
her running off I'll kill him. And if I meet William
in the street, and he presumes to look at me, I'll flog
him within an inch of his life. Keep those brats out
of my sight!”
As he turned to leave, my grandmother said something
to remind him of his own doings. He looked
back upon her, as if he would have been glad to strike
her to the ground.
I had my season of joy and thanksgiving. It was
the first time since my childhood that I had experienced
any real happiness. I heard of the old
doctor's threats, but they no longer had the same
power to trouble me. The darkest cloud that hung
over my life had rolled away. Whatever slavery might
do to me, it could not shackle my children. If I fell a
sacrifice, my little ones were saved. It was well for
me that my simple heart believed all that had been
promised for their welfare. It is always better to trust
than to doubt.
| Incidents in the life of a slave girl | |