 | CHAPTER II. The wigwam and the cabin |  |
2. CHAPTER II.
I am afraid that my reader will suffer quite as much under
this long discussion, as did my excellent companion, Col. Harris.
But he is not to suppose that all the views here expressed, were
uttered consecutively, as they are above set down. I have simply
condensed, for more easy comprehension, the amount of a
conversation which lasted some two hours. I may add, that, at the
close, we discovered, as is very often the case among disputants,
there was very little substantial difference between us. Our dispute,
if any, was rather verbal than philosophical. On the subject
of his experiment, however, Col. Harris fancied, that, in employing
some forty or fifty of the Indians, of both sexes, he had
brought together a community sufficiently large for the purposes
of a fair experiment. Still, I thought that the argument remained
untouched. They were not subordinate; they were not subdued;
they could still exercise a free and absolute will, in despite of
authority and reason. He could resort to no method for compelling
their obedience; and we know pretty well what will result
—even among white men—from the option of vagrancy.
“But,” I urged, “even if the objections which I have stated,
fail of defeating your scheme, there is yet another agent of defeat
working against it, in the presence of these elderly Indians,
who do not join in the labour, and yet, according to your own
showing, still prowl in waiting to snatch from the hands of the
industrious all the fruits of their toil. The natural effect of this
will be to discourage the industry of those who work; for, unless
the labourer is permitted to enjoy a fair proportion of the fruits of
his labour, it is morally impossible that he should long continue it.”
Our conference was interrupted by the appearance of the labourers,
Indians and Negroes, who now began to come in, bringing
with them the cotton which they had severally gathered during the
day. This was accumulated in the court-yard, before the dwelling;
each Indian, man or woman, standing beside the bag or basket
suppose, that, after the dialogue and discussion which is partially
reported above, I felt no little interest in observing the proceedings.
The parties present were quite numerous. I put the negroes
out of the question, though they were still to be seen, lingering
in the background, grinning spectators of the scene. The
number of Indians, men and women, who had that day been engaged
in picking, was thirty-nine. Of these, twenty-six were
females; three, only, might be accounted men, and ten were boys
—none over sixteen. Of the females the number of elderly and
young women was nearly equal. Of the men, one was very old
and infirm; a second of middle age, who appeared to be something
of an idiot; while the third, whom I regarded for this reason with
more consideration and interest than all the party beside, was
one of the most noble specimens of physical manhood that my
eyes had ever beheld. He was fully six feet three inches in
height, slender but muscular in the extreme. He possessed a
clear, upright, open, generous cast of countenance, as utterly
unlike that sullen, suspicious expression of the ordinary Indian
face, as you can possibly imagine. Good nature and good sense
were the predominant characteristics of his features, and—which
is quite as unusual with Indians when in the presence of strangers
—he laughed and jested with all the merry, unrestrainable vivacity
of a youth of Anglo-Saxon breed. How was it that so
noble a specimen of manhood consented to herd with the women
and the weak of his tribe, in descending to the mean labours
which the warriors were accustomed to despise?
“He must either be a fellow of great sense, or he must be a
coward. He is degraded.”
Such was my conclusion. The answer of Col. Harris was
immediate.
“He is a fellow of good sense, and very far from being a coward.
He is one of the best Choctaws that I know.”
“A man, then, to be a leader of his people. It is a singular
proof of good sense and great mental flexibility, to find an Indian,
who is courageous, voluntarily assuming tasks which are held to
be degrading among the hunters. I should like to talk with this
fellow when you are done. What is his name?”
“His proper name is Oakatibbé; but that by which he is generally
known among us—his English name—is Slim Sampson, a
name which he gets on the score of his superior strength and
great slenderness. The latter name, in ordinary use, has completely
superseded the former, even among his own people. It
may be remarked, by the way, as another proof of the tacit deference
of the inferior to the superior people, that most Indians
prefer to use the names given by the whites to those of their own
language. There are very few among them who will not contrive,
after a short intimacy with white men, to get some epithet
—which is not always a complimentary one—but which they
cling to as tenaciously as they would to some far more valuable
possession.”
This little dialogue was whispered during the stir which followed
the first arrival of the labourers. We had no opportunity
for more.
The rest of the Indians were in no respect remarkable. There
were some eight or ten women, and perhaps as many men, who
did not engage in the toils of their companions, though they did
not seem the less interested in the result. These, I noted, were
all, in greater or less degree, elderly persons. One was full
eighty years old, and a strange fact for one so venerable, was the
most confirmed drunkard of the tribe. When the cotton pickers
advanced with their baskets, the hangers-on drew nigh also, deeply
engrossed with the prospect of reaping the gains from that industry
which they had no mood to emulate. These, however, were
very moderate, in most cases. Where a negro woman picked
from one to two hundred weight of cotton, per diem, the Indian
woman, at the utmost, gathered sixty-five; and the general average
among them, did not much exceed forty-five. Slim Sampson's
basket weighed eighty-six pounds—an amount considerably
greater than any of the rest—and Col. Harris assured me, that
his average during the week had been, at no time, much below
this quantity.
The proceedings had gone on without interruption or annoyance
for the space of half an hour. Col. Harris had himself
weighed every basket, with scrupulous nicety, and recorded the
several weights opposite to the name of the picker, in a little memorandum
was amusing to see with what pleasurable curiosity, the Indians,
men and women, watched the record which stated their several
accounts. The whole labour of the week was to be settled for
that night (Saturday), and hence the unusual gathering of those
whose only purpose in being present, was to grasp at the spoils.
Among these hawks was one middle-aged Indian—a stern,
sulky fellow, of considerable size and strength—whose skin was
even then full of liquor, which contributing to the usual insolence
of his character, made him at times very troublesome. He had
more than once, during the proceedings, interfered between Col.
Harris and his employées, in such a manner as to provoke, in the
mind of that gentleman, no small degree of irritation. The English
name of this Indian, was Loblolly Jack. Loblolly Jack had
a treble motive for being present and conspicuous. He had
among the labourers, a wife and two daughters. When the baskets
of these were brought forward to be weighed, he could no
longer be kept in the background, but, resolutely thrusting himself
before the rest, he handled basket, book and steelyards in
turn, uttered his suspicions of foul play, and insisted upon a close
examination of every movement which was made by the proprietor.
In this manner, he made it very difficult for him to proceed
in his duties; and his conduct, to do the Indians justice, seemed
quite as annoying to them as to Col. Harris. The wife frequently
expostulated with him, in rather bolder language than an Indian
squaw is apt to use to her liege lord; while Slim Sampson, after
a few words of reproach, expressed in Choctaw, concluded by
telling him in plain English, that he was “a rascal dog.” He
seemed the only one among them who had no fear of the intruder.
Loblolly Jack answered in similar terms, and Slim Sampson,
clearing the baskets at a single bound, confronted him with a
show of fight, and a direct challenge to it, on the spot where they
stood. The other seemed no ways loth. He recoiled a pace,
drew his knife—a sufficient signal for Slim Sampson to get his
own in readiness—and, thus opposed, they stood, glaring upon
each other with eyes of the most determined expression of malignity.
A moment more—an additional word of provocation from
either—and blows must have taken place. But Col. Harris, a
one of his negroes, bade him bring out from the house his double-barreled
gun.
“Now,” said he, “my good fellows, the first man of you that
lifts his hand to strike, I'll shoot him down; so look to it. Slim
Sampson, go back to your basket, and don't meddle in this business.
Don't you suppose that I'm man enough to keep Loblolly
Jack in order? You shall see.”
It is not difficult for a determined white man to keep an Indian
in subordination, so long as both of them are sober. A few
words more convinced Loblolly Jack, who had not yet reached
the reckless stage in drunkenness, that his wiser course was to
give back and keep quiet, which he did. The storm subsided
almost as suddenly as it had been raised, and Col. Harris resumed
his occupation. Still, the Indian who had proved so troublesome
before, continued his annoyances, though in a manner somewhat
less audacious. His last proceeding was to get as nigh as he
could to the basket which was about to be weighed—his wife's
basket—and, with the end of a stick, adroitly introduced into some
little hole, he contrived to press the basket downwards, and thus
to add so much to the weight of the cotton, that his squaw promised
to bear off the palm of victory in that day's picking. Nobody
saw the use to which the stick was put, and for a few moments no
one suspected it. Had the cunning fellow been more moderate,
he might have succeeded in his attempt upon the steelyards; but
his pressure increased with every approach which was made to a
determination of the weight, and while all were wondering that so
small a basket should be so heavy, Slim Sampson discovered and
pointed out the trick to Col. Harris, who suddenly snatching the stick
from the grasp of the Indian, was about to lay it over his head.
But this my expostulation prevented; and, after some delay, the
proceedings were finally ended; but in such a manner as to make
my friend somewhat more doubtful than he had been before, on
the subject of his experiment. He paid off their accounts, some
in cloths and calicoes, of which he had provided a small supply
for this purpose; but the greater number, under the evil influence
of the idle and the elder, demanded and received their pay in
money.
| CHAPTER II. The wigwam and the cabin | |