CHAPTER II.
In the midst of all this trouble and gloom, my heart was made glad by learning that my old master had come to take me home, at the expiration of thirteen years. Mr. Gardner and my old master had a long talk about me, for I was a miserable looking object with burnt feet. I bade Mr. Gardner good bye, and expect to meet him at the judgment seat, when slave and master appear before the great Judge of all, with equal rights.
My old master took me to Baltimore, where we arrived in two days. He asked me if I wanted a hat. I had never had one, and received one which cost twenty-five cents as joyfully as though it had cost eight dollars. We were then twenty-two miles from home. The old man asked me if I ever drank brandy. I said no. He said it was a good thing, and when I saw him drunk, I might get so too. But I could not get spirit if I wanted it ever so much, though I saw him drink many glasses, and have known him to have a barrel of whiskey at one time.
We left Baltimore, and arrived at our home. When I saw my four brothers, who had been so long separated from me, I felt as I think Joseph felt when he saw his brethren, though I knew nothing of the history of Joseph at that time. Surely I was glad to see my brothers, but yet I was a slave—being with them did not make mo a free man. I was yet bowed down and crushed by the cruel spirit of slavery.
They were about to run away at the time of my arrival; but I knew nothing of it. Six months, or about that time after, I joined them. Three of my oldest brothers went away, leaving one of my brothers and myself behind. This brother is still a slave. I heard from him in 1846. We were left behind because we were not able to travel. They left ten years before I did, but in relation to those ten years I will remain silent. I was the youngest of the five brothers. My old master had a very bad wife, and she made him much worse than he would have been without her. She made him beat me without cause, and when it answered no purpose. During those awful ten years we had not enough to eat, and were beaten shamefully. Most of the time we had bean soup for breakfast, dinner and supper—a pint at each meal. When we had potatoes, we were without bread. Such was our fare; and whether hungry or satisfied, we had no addition to it. We were poor slaves; and the great object in feeding slaves is doubtless the same as it is with cattle and horses, to keep them in good working order, or saleable condition. Of course, if the health of the slave is not permanently injured, the nearer to the starvation point the master can keep the slave, the more it is for his interest; and who, that casts his eye back through the dark, bloody track of slavery, does not perceive that the masters have acted up to their interest? We sometimes had cider; occasionally some meat and milk, as it might happen.
We remembered what our brothers told us—when we were able to run away, to try it on some favorable Sunday. The old man would let us go to meeting on Sunday at the village, but if we were not at home by sundown, the cowhide paid the debt. We were slaves yet, and the old man grew poorer and poorer the older he grew, and withal cross, much to our discomfort. He had a wife like king Herod, and like Ahab, for we read that Beelzebub stirred up Ahab to work evil in the sight of the Lord.
Finally the old lady teased her husband to put my brother Nick out; and he let him out for ten dollars a month. I was at home with two women and a boy to carry on the farm, and we saw hard times. The old man had a son, a preacher. At times he came home, but he could not help our case. I was anxious to learn to read. My master had two sons who went to school, and four unmarried daughters. One Sunday a gentleman came to our house; I held his horse, and he gave me a sixpenny bit, with which I bought a book, and tried to learn to read. I had it but a week, when the old man saw it in my bosom, and made inquiry as to what it was. He said, “You son of a b—h, if I ever know you to have a book again, I will whip you half to death.” He took the book from me, and burnt it! What could I do? I was a slave; and the mind which God had given me, in common with my brethren with white skins to be enlightened, must be kept darkened, and remain in ignorance, to suit the policy of the “peculiar institution.”
I omitted to mention that Mr. Buk came to see Miss Jane, one of the unmarried daughters, at the time he gave me the piece of money. The same attraction drew him there again, and he then gave me eleven pence, with which I purchased a larger book, thirsting for that knowledge which was denied me; but I had not had this book over a week before my master found it out; and he then made me sick of books by beating me like a dog. He whipped me so very severely that he overcame my thirst for knowledge, and I relinquished its pursuit until after I absconded. He took my book from me, and gave it to his son—so it seems the white man’s son must have the means of education, even if stolen from the slave. I could do nothing; but the all-merciful Father, who regards MAN as MAN, whatever may be the injustice and oppression to which he is subjected, watched over and guided me with his parental eye through all the soul-sickening, heart-rending trials of a gloomy bondage. I can prove by the scriptures that slave-holders are worse than the devil, for it is written in St. James, “Resist the devil, and he will flee from you;” but if you undertake to resist the slave-holder, he will hold you the tighter.
I knew a man who thought it too cruel to whip his slaves, but he stripped them naked, tied them to a board, (one end of which was on the fence, the other on the ground,) and then drew a cat by her tail down their backs. Of course the claws of the cat sunk deeply into the flesh, for at such a time a cat will resist this retrograde movement to the extent of her strength. Then he would ask the poor slave if it hurt. The reply was, “Oh! pray, master, oh! pray, master, don’t.”
When in slavery I experienced a hope in Christ, from the 8th verse of the 23d chapter of Matthew,[A] “Give us of your oil, for our lamps have gone out.” It was one year before I had evidence that my heart was changed. This was in the year 1836. I was awakened by the Holy Spirit of God, by its divine influence operating on my mind, and the words, “Give me of your oil,” rang in my ears continually; but I strove hard against the spirit, to shake off these feelings, yet at the end of this year I was brought to submit to the will of God. I beheld myself a justly condemned sinner before God. I felt bound to give myself up to Him; and obtained a pardon for my sins—and to-day I am struggling to make my peace, my calling and election sure. The word of that poor unreleased slave has proved unto me the power and wisdom of God, and to-day I am trying to preach Christ to the inhabitants of Nantucket.