Several of the officers of the “Honduras” said they knew of a place which was respectable, but they could not say more for it, but if mother would go there they too would live there till they had to leave for a return trip. Their presence added greatly to our comfort and safety.
While in Key West we were made happy by a visit from our old slave and cook, Aunt Sally. She was a Virginia darky and a first-class servant. Before mother had gone to Columbus for me the negroes had begun to leave for Key West in large groups. Aunt Sally came to mother and said she wanted to go, and mother made no opposition. In fact, she was glad to have her go, as it made one less to feed. She knew Aunt Sally would always be able to take care of herself, as she was an accomplished laundress. I remember well when she first came to us. She was to be sold, and being such a fine woman, was allowed time to find her own master. Failing that she would be sold to the highest bidder in the open market. She went down on her knees before my father, imploring him to buy her as an act of charity. She was overcome with joy when he consented, for she knew she would be kindly treated. I used to stand beside her in the evening when she was making bread. She would entertain me by telling interesting stories and singing the old plantation songs, only one of which I remember, and only three verses of that. The music is a quaint minor, and I always loved it:
[[audio/mpeg]] [Music XML (.mxl)][PDF]
“If it hadn’t been for Adam and Eve,
There never would have been no sin;
But Adam and Eve am dead and gone
And we have de debt for to pay.
Shout, Chilluns! to ease my troubled mind.
“De corn in de field is a-ripening,
And de laborers dey are but a few;
How can you stand so idle there
When there’s so much work for to do?
Shout, Chilluns! to ease my troubled mind.
“Way down into de Valley,
Way down into de Valley,
I see my Lord a-coming for
To ease my troubled mind.
Shout, Chilluns! to ease my troubled mind.”
I have often tried to find this song among collections of negro melodies, but have never been successful.
Aunt Sally heard we were in Key West, and immediately came to see us, and took us children in her motherly arms.
After ten days there was a rumor that the steamer from New Orleans was in sight, and mother flew to the dock full of resolution and hope. When the captain saw her he said very decidedly, “Madam, I have no room. Everything is as full as possible.” “But my daughter and I can sleep on the cabin floor.” “Oh,” said he, “if you have a daughter, then it is absolutely impossible.” “Captain,” she replied, “I have five children, and we are all going with you.” The thought that that was the last steamer for the summer and yellow fever surely carrying us off if we stayed, gave force to her manner.
The captain wilted, and said meekly, “I have one stateroom, dark as night all the time, and flooded each morning when the decks are washed.” “I will take it, whatever it is. When do you leave?” “Get your children immediately, for we leave as soon as possible, any moment.”
How her heart must have jumped for joy when we sailed away from the fever-stricken city into the pure air of the Gulf and knew we were headed toward home.