Chronicles of Chicora Wood

by Elizabeth W. Allston Pringle

Maussa tell me, ’e say: “Boy, you see nobody hurt my hands, you ask the name of the person in charge and let me know, and when you go anywhere to work, you ask the captain to put you in a tent by yourself, with your own men, don’t mix up with other people.” Now maussa tell me dat t’ree time’, an’ “Boy,” he say, “go to my yaad when you get to Charleston.”

We ben dere a good while, an’ one day maussa cum in a bright kerrige, an’ eberybody hurrah, an’ maussa cum to we an’ ’e say: “Well, boy, how you gettin’ on?” An’ I say: “Not well, maussa. I los’ one of me man, Pompey, an’ de res’ sick, an’ dis place don’ ’gree wid dem.” He say: “Well, you can’t go till your wuck dun.” “My maussa, dis wuck’ll nebber done. We’ll dun, but de wuck won’t dun, we’s all sick.”

Maussa say: “Well, boy, if dat so you ken leave to-morrow. You meet me in Charlestown Monday; this is Saturday. Don’t let any of the hands go over to Charlestown until you go.” Jackson, Fibby’s brother, wen’ off, but I couldn’t stop him. Monday we was to walk to Charlestown, maussa tell de cap’ain put dem cross de bridge, but he didn’ put we over till eleven o’clock, so maussa had to put we on de mail train. When we get to Salters he tell Sam to give we each four quart of rice an’ then Paul Bryan drive we in de wagon four miles and maussa tol’ us to take two days to get home, bu’ we cum righ’ ’ome dat same nite. I tell you him been a number one maussa dat. Him’ll nebber back down from a man in trouble. He’ll save you if you is to save! The night we left the wuk, Mr. King was killed that day.

When we got home maussa send me to a place called Britton’s Neck, dere ’e was clearing up land to plant. After dat maussa bring me down and put me in a flat, and I carry de rice from Waverly Mill to Kingstree. He sent Saundy fust, den maussa cum to Britton’s Neck, an’ tell me: “Boy, I want one flat from Nightingdale Hall, three from Chicora, and two from Guendalow, take all to Waverly, and all take turns an’ load and then start together, and go up the Black River to Kingstree, to the double bridge.”

You couldn’t pole in Waccamaw, you had to row, an’ you couldn’t pole in Black River ’til you get to Mr. Green, Rockingham, then you ken fin’ sum polin’ bottom. Sawny flat maussa put 111 barrel and one week after maussa sen’ me an’ tell me to ketch Sawny, an’ Sawny ben unload, an’ Mr. Shaw tek de rice an’ haul half a mile about to de depot an den de railroad tek dem. Was a good deal of bad weather, and dat way it tuk me two weeks—Nightingdale flat only make one trip, but de odder five flat tek rice from Waverly to Kingstree three years, an’ after dat maussa had two boat build, an’ send me an’ Joe Washington in charge of dem. My wife Maggie was a healthy woman ’til she begin to breed, but after that maussa put her to mind de sheep. Maussa say he nebber had any one fu’ mind sheep like she. When she call to de sheep “Come back here,” dey just wheel right round; when I gone on de boat up ribber, maussa say my wife is very sick, she was at de pint of death; I was near Cheraw—we wus aground three days, and we couldn’t go, and I pray, an’ I pray, an’ I pray, dat night, ’cause I couldn’t lef’ de boat on de road and de Lawd sen’ a big rain dat night and raise de ribber thirty feet, and we gone up an’ git out de load an’ gone right back home. An’ maussa tell me I mus’ put Maggie on de boat, to go up, an’ I must walk and drive up de sheep Mr. George Jeams had bought from him. “An’ you must drive them up to him, and then you go on to a place I bought with my own money, and I got ninety-five fine, good, prime people up there and I want you to take charge of the place—those people can’t make feed enough there to keep them four months; now I want you to see if you can make a crop up there.” Den I say: “Maussa, what can I do with my cow and calf; I kyant left them.” Him say: “Well, take them right along with you.” Den I say: “Maussa, I got ninety sheep fu’ carry, and my cow got a raging calf, an’ how can I tek them all along, on dat journey all by myself.” Den maussa say: “You can take Michael with you, till you get to Lynch’s Creek, where two men will meet you and take the sheep.”

Well, I start from de farm and de sheep travel so slow, and so tired, I never gone no fadder dan Mr. Blank way to Union Church; I stay dere dat night, an’ de next day I gone to Lynch’s Creek, an’ I wait dere, an no man nebber come for de sheep, an’ I just gone on an’ tek de sheep and cattle, and when de man cum for de sheep dey had to follow me about twenty miles, an’ den I tu’n Michael back an’ I mek time on, an’ when I get to de place, maussa send me to take charge of Morven, an’ I tek charge, an’ fust I build a house for Maggie, when ’e come, and I ben dere three week before Maggie cum. She had Pattie, and Kissie, and Pauline, and Aham; an’ Peter, an’ Peter Sweet’s Louisa was on de boat, in delicate state, an’ Maggie had to put dem to bed on de boat. An’ when I ben dere one month maussa come, an’ I been a clear ground when he come—he call fo’ me and Mr. Yates, the agent, and Mr. Balentine, the obershear; Mr. Yates sit near de fire, wid maussa, I stand behind, and maussa say: “Well, Anchum, I bring you here to try and make a crop for me, and Mr. Balentine, I want you to put everything in his charge—he is to order the work, and he is to do the punishment, and I want you to put the keys in his hands too.”

An’ den I say: “Maussa, I well onderstan’ de wuck, an’ I’ll tek charge of dat, but I don’t want to tek no key.” An’ maussa say I must. But when maussa gone, I slip de key back in Mr. Balentine’s hand an’ say, “I don’ want de key, you keep de key,” an’ maussa say to me: “You feed my horse and you feed Mr. Balentine’s horse too, and your daughter Patty milk the cow.” But I wouldn’t let Patty milk, ’cause I wouldn’t run ’cross Amy, him been a’milk, and I know what was going on, an’ I knows dem people been eat de meat out o’ de smoke-house, an’ I know dem would tu’n it on me—so I wait till we fin’ out, an’ Mr. Balentine gib dat man, Chance Grate, an’ he an’ Abram Hynes an’ himself were partners, and when Chance tuk some one else in the smoke-house without tell Abram he get mad an’ tu’n State evidence an’ tell me, an’ I must ask Mr. Balentine: “Y’ miss any meat?” An’ he say “No.” An I say: “Dat strange, ’cause Chance has got some; you’d better look.” An’ he gone in de smoke-house, an’ miss a lot. He had kill an’ cure fifty hog, and the meat ought to ben dere. When Mr. Balentine gone to count de meat he find half gone, den he gone with me to Chance house, an’ dere he find two hams an’ a shoulder, an’ Mr. Balentine give him a big licking, ’til he confess how he done it. Den I stop him, I hold ’e hand an’ I say: “Maussa only want de trut; he don’t allow lick after dat, not another cut.” Dere was two rice-barrel pack wid 300 bottle of ole wine in de cellar at Morven. I wucked and wucked and made a fine crop of peas, corn, and potatoes. Mr. Evans come up with ole miss to look at de crop, w’en I let her know I had housed de corn, one passel was shucked clean, an’ Mista Evans, when he look at it, estimate 1,000 bushel of corn. Howsumeber, in de fall in February we hear de Yankees was bombarding Chiraw; eberybody was trying to get away from dat side, as de bridge was burned by we people. Two soldiers cum one nite an’ ask me to let them spend de night—dey was what de people call de “Georgia Wild Cat.” Dey say: “Ole man, de Yankees will be here before nine to-morrow morning.” Dey hadn’t sooner gone away from de house next morning, when de whole place was surround wid soldier, and dey call on de men to surrender. What dey call de picket guard cum fust, and ax dat Daddy Hammedy fo’ de key, an’ when him hesitate, dem say, “I don’t want no key,” an’ he just rushed up and kicked de door in, an’ rushed in, and run up-stairs, and cum down with a bag full of silver, an’ forks and spoons an’ plate an’ dat man say: “Ole man, de man dat own dis place must be a hell of a rich man, he got such fine tings.” An’ I say: “Yes, sir, my master is a powerful rich man.” Den de oders run in an’ git more; den dey gone—den we tought dey was all gone, when on a sudden de whole place full of people, from every corner—dey seem to rise right out de ground; now dis was de infantry, an’ dey cum to station dere, and dey station dere for one week. Dem people just run dat grits-mill from de time day cum; dey just grind all de corn we mek, an’ in a half hour de smoke-house was empty, and dey kill and dey fetch in, and dey kill and dey fetch in, and dey kill and dey fetch in, an’ I got tired of it, I was sassy to them; I was wore out. Me an’ Hammedy was de only man on de place; I jus’ had to stey by de captain to perteck me and dese womens—den he put a guard an’ tell dem to shoot any soldier dat went to burn or trouble de people. By de time dey was gone dere was nothing left but de rough rice—400 bushels—an’ dey couldn’t manage dat; dey took all de corn, and if it hadn’t been for de rice we would have starved. The Yankees left on Tuesday, an’ de next Sunday Mr. Yates sent me word, I must take de people an’ left at once; we must take de road, man, woman, and chillun; we must be gone Monday night—that I must take de hands and march off at once. I send George Green to tell miss, say “Come at once,” and Tuesday miss cum, Daddy Eleck drive ’um, and Miss Bessie cum wid um, an’ Mista Evans ride ’long side, an’ miss say “What’s matter?” an’ I say: “Mr. Yates drive we, say we must lef’.” Then miss say, “Well, turn to work, repair de land and plant what you can”; but I say: “Miss, I want to go home.” Miss laugh and say: “Where is your home, Acrum?” I say: “Wherever you is, miss, dere is my home.” An’ miss say: “Well, if you go home now, ’tis too late to plant crop, so you had better plant your crop here, so by fall you can go after you gather the crop.” So we done so, an’ we mek a fine crop of corn and peas, an’ when de time cum for to move, all de people what didn’t have chillun tek dey fut an’ gone, an’ we big fambly couldn’t do dat, an’ I study, an’ I study an’ at las’ I say to Daddy Hammedy: “You an’ your son is carpenter, and you can mek a flat; I can tek a man an’ cut down some big dead pine, an’ haul dem in, an’ we got saw-mill, and we can mek flat, and so we done, an’ in two weeks after we done gather in de crop we had de flat done and ready to start on a Saturday; den we say we will move next week, and de people say let’s go now, and so we done, but de oxen and ting worry me. Ole miss had send Mr. Yates and Mr. Balentine away an’ got a young man name John Shaw in charge, and he done just what I say. Den I puswade March—he had a ole horse he pic’ up—to tek de oxen down to ole miss to Society Hill, wid de hoss, and he done so. We started Sunday evening at four o’clock, and we did not get down to Chicora until de next Sunday night in de night. Me and Daddy Hammedy, an’ his wife Mary Ann, an’ my wife Maggie, an’ his daughter Tyra, an’ granddaughter Cherry, my chillun—Patty, Elizabeth, Pauline, Kizzie, Aham, and the baby Kilpatrick, then York Blye and Mary, his wife, and Joseph, Betsy, March’s wife, Leah, and Hetty, and Flora, Phenix, and his wife Elizabeth, and his daughter Mary, and his daughter Miley, and Lucy. When I got off to Chicora everything been tear up, people don gone crazy; now, when I left my house maussa tell me no one was to stay in my house till I come. I come back and find Moses in my house. I gone right in an’ mek Moses come right out. Now Mauss Ben he done puty by me; I had nine head to feed, an’ Mauss Ben say he feed them all fo’ my wuck, so Mauss Ben feed my family fu’ dat year, and feed dem well, an’ we mek fine crop o’ rice. The fust contract was you fu’nish land and seed and animals an’ get two-thirds; I fu’nish wuck and get one-third. Every day I didn’t wuck was deduct’ from my share.

Daddy Ancrum advised a change to one-half, the hands to furnish the work animals as well as their own work, and the owner furnish the land in good fix, and seed rice, and it was divided equally in half. (This proved very successful, as they had their own work animals.)

FOOTNOTES:

[1] See vol. 1, page Q119, Encyclopedia Heraldica.