Tar Heel Tales

by H. E. C. Bryant

“Dat wuz mos’ too much fur me, but I darsen’ cheep. Tite he goes in an’ lights de torch an’ de man he opens up his police an’ takes out some pitchers. De fust ones had niggers wid chains on, an’ de overseer wid his whup. Indeed, sir, dem pitchers had de po’ darkey in a bad place. De man say dat’s de way it wuz in slav’ry time. Den he fotch out some wid Mr. Nigger dressed up in fine clothes, wid yaller buttons, dis what de nigger laks. Bless me, ef he didn’t have one wid Tite on a big chestnut hoss, ridin’ ’roun’ de farm. It look so much lak de nigger dat I des laugh out loud. An’ Tite he grin all over de face.

“‘Dat’s de way Tite’s gwine to look after de ’lection,’ said de man. ‘Dat’s ef de ’Publikins git in.’

“Chile, dat wuz a powful talkin’ man. His tongue go dis lak it wuz loose at both een’s. When he shet up his police, after givin’ Tite some pitchers to put on de mantel boa’d, he take de breff fum me by axin’ ef he kin stay all night. Tite wuz so stuck on him dat he say ‘all right.’ So he stay, but slip out ’fo’ day nex’ mornin’.

“Dat talk an’ dem pitchers stir Tite all up. He’s not de same nigger no mo’. De nex’ day he wuz mean to me, ’cause he seed fum de color in my eye dat I lak no sich doin’s, an’ he had some words wid Marse John. ’Deed, sir, he wuz des lak er stubborn mule. Nobudy coul’ do nuthin’ wid him. I tole him dat he’d better quit foolin’ wid po’ white trash, fur you git nuthin’ in dis worl’ ’cepin’ whut you wuck fur. But Tite he wuz done gone ’stracted on de forty acres an’ de mule. He des look at hissef on dat big hoss an’ smile.”

“Matt, do you really think Tite believed he would get the land and mule?”

“Coase he did!” declared the old woman with considerable spirit.

“De same white man meet Tite an’ talk agin, but dat time I wuz away an’ hear nuthin’ uv it. Tite soon ’gin to talk ’bout callin’ a meetin’ uv de niggers. Mo’ strange niggers dan I ever seed befo’ come dere to talk wid him, an’ dey all act mighty bigity lak.

“Yes, sir, Tite wuz de big nigger in dem parts. Whatever he said de ’tuther niggers done. De ’lection come nigher an’ Tite gits mo’ triflin’ ’bout wuckin’ fur de white folks. Him an’ Marse John had a dispute an’ Marse John knock him down wid a stick. Talkin’ woul’ do no good. De crowds uv niggers kep’ gittin’ bigger an’ bigger an’ mo’ strange white mens come to see Tite, an’ dey all’ers sneak in at night.

“De white folks lak Marse John and Marse Jeems Walkup ’gin to git tired uv all dis foolishness. Dey hold a meetin’ demselves, at Marse John’s, an’ ’scuss how to keep de cearpet-baggers off uv deyer farms an’ git de niggers back to wuck.

“But, Lawd bless yo’ soul, honey, ’bout dis time Tite cut de highes’ buck uv all an’ have Marse John ’rested an’ carried to town fur hittin’ him. Yes, sir, a man wid blue suit an’ brass buttons come an’ git Marse John an’ take him to Charlotte ’fo’ dat Freedman’s Bureau. You orter heerd de niggers an’ white foks cryin’, an’ seen ’em takin’ on when de officer driv’ off wid Marse John. Ole Missus took it mighty hard, so she did, an’ I wuz des as mad es I coul’ be. I knowed dat de devil wuz to pay den, fur de white foks wuzn’t gwine to put up wid no sich es dat. Deyer day wuz comin’ agin.”