“Shet down dat light a little. More. More yit. A pusson dat is hunted don’t like de light. Dah—dat’ll do. I kin see whah you is, en dat’s enough. I’s gwine to tell you de tale, en cut it jes as short as I kin, en den I’ll tell you what you’s got to do. Dat man dat bought me ain’t a bad man; he’s good enough, as planters goes; en if he could ’a’ had his way I’d ’a’ be’n a house servant in his fambly en be’n comfortable: but his wife she was a Yank, en not right down good lookin’, en she riz up agin me straight off; so den dey sent me out to de quarter ’mongst de common fiel’ han’s. Dat woman warn’t satisfied even wid dat, but she worked up de overseer ag’in’ me, she ’uz dat jealous en hateful; so de overseer he had me out befo’ day in de mawnin’s en worked me de whole long day as long as dey ’uz any light to see by; en many’s de lashin’s I got ’ca’se I couldn’t come up to de work o’ de stronges’. Dat overseer wuz a Yank, too, outen New Englan’, en anybody down South kin tell you what dat mean. Dey knows how to work a nigger to death, en dey knows how to whale ’em, too—whale ’em till dey backs is welted like a washboard. ’Long at fust my marster say de good word for me to de overseer, but dat ’uz bad for me; for de mistis she fine it out, en arter dat I jist ketched it at every turn—dey warn’t no mercy for me no mo’.”
Tom’s heart was fired—with fury against the planter’s wife; and he said to himself, “But for that meddlesome fool, everything would have gone all right.” He added a deep and bitter curse against her.
The expression of this sentiment was fiercely written in his face, and stood thus revealed to Roxana by a white glare of lightning which turned the somber dusk of the room into dazzling day at that moment. She was pleased—pleased and grateful; for did not that expression show that her child was capable of grieving for his mother’s wrongs and of feeling resentment toward her persecutors?—a thing which she had been doubting. But her flash of happiness was only a flash, and went out again and left her spirit dark; for she said to herself, “He sole me down de river—he can’t feel for a body long: dis’ll pass en go.” Then she took up her tale again.
“’Bout ten days ago I ’uz sayin’ to myself dat I couldn’t las’ many mo’ weeks I ’uz so wore out wid de awful work en de lashin’s, en so downhearted en misable. En I didn’t care no mo’, nuther—life warn’t wuth noth’n’ to me, if I got to go on like dat. Well, when a body is in a frame o’ mine like dat, what do a body care what a body do? Dey was a little sickly nigger wench ’bout ten year ole dat ’uz good to me, en hadn’t no mammy, po’ thing, en I loved her en she loved me; en she come out whah I ’uz workin ’en she had a roasted tater, en tried to slip it to me,—robbin’ herself, you see, ’ca’se she knowed de overseer didn’t gimme enough to eat,—en he ketched her at it, en give her a lick acrost de back wid his stick, which ’uz as thick as a broom-handle, en she drop’ screamin’ on de groun’, en squirmin’ en wallerin’ aroun’ in de dust like a spider dat’s got crippled. I couldn’t stan’ it. All de hell-fire dat ’uz ever in my heart flame’ up, en I snatch de stick outen his han’ en laid him flat. He laid dah moanin’ en cussin’, en all out of his head, you know, en de niggers ’uz plumb sk’yred to death. Dey gathered roun’ him to he’p him, en I jumped on his hoss en took out for de river as tight as I could go. I knowed what dey would do wid me. Soon as he got well he would start in en work me to death if marster let him; en if dey didn’t do dat, they’d sell me furder down de river, en dat’s de same thing. So I ’lowed to drown myself en git out o’ my troubles. It ’uz gitt’n’ towards dark. I ’uz at de river in two minutes. Den I see a canoe, en I says dey ain’t no use to drown myself tell I got to; so I ties de hoss in de edge o’ de timber en shove out down de river, keepin’ in under de shelter o’ de bluff bank en prayin’ for de dark to shet down quick. I had a pow’ful good start, ’ca’se de big house ’uz three mile back f’om de river en on’y de work-mules to ride dah on, en on’y niggers to ride ’em, en dey warn’t gwine to hurry—dey’d gimme all de chance dey could. Befo’ a body could go to de house en back it would be long pas’ dark, en dey couldn’t track de hoss en fine out which way I went tell mawnin’, en de niggers would tell ’em all de lies dey could ’bout it.
“Well, de dark come, en I went on a-spinnin’ down de river. I paddled mo’n two hours, den I warn’t worried no mo’, so I quit paddlin, en floated down de current, considerin’ what I ’uz gwine to do if I didn’t have to drown myself. I made up some plans, en floated along, turnin’ ’em over in my mine. Well, when it ’uz a little pas’ midnight, as I reckoned, en I had come fifteen or twenty mile, I see de lights o’ a steamboat layin’ at de bank, whah dey warn’t no town en no woodyard, en putty soon I ketched de shape o’ de chimbly-tops ag’in’ de stars, en den good gracious me, I ’most jumped out o’ my skin for joy! It ’uz de Gran’ Mogul—I ’uz chambermaid on her for eight seasons in de Cincinnati en Orleans trade. I slid ’long pas’—don’t see nobody stirrin’ nowhah—hear ’em a-hammerin’ away in de engine-room, den I knowed what de matter was—some o’ de machinery’s broke. I got asho’ below de boat and turn’ de canoe loose, den I goes ’long up, en dey ’uz jes one plank out, en I step’ ’board de boat. It ’uz pow’ful hot, deckhan’s en roustabouts ’uz sprawled aroun’ asleep on de fo’cas’l’, de second mate, Jim Bangs, he sot dah on de bitts wid his head down, asleep—’ca’se dat’s de way de second mate stan’ de cap’n’s watch!—en de ole watchman, Billy Hatch, he ’uz a-noddin’ on de companionway;—en I knowed ’em all; ’en, lan’, but dey did look good! I says to myself, I wished old marster’d come along now en try to take me—bless yo’ heart, I’s ’mong frien’s, I is. So I tromped right along ’mongst ’em, en went up on de b’iler deck en ’way back aft to de ladies’ cabin guard, en sot down dah in de same cheer dat I’d sot in ’mos’ a hund’d million times, I reckon; en it ’uz jist home ag’in, I tell you!
“In ’bout an hour I heard de ready-bell jingle, en den de racket begin. Putty soon I hear de gong strike. ‘Set her back on de outside,’ I says to myself—‘I reckon I knows dat music!’ I hear de gong ag’in. ‘Come ahead on de inside,’ I says. Gong ag’in. ‘Stop de outside.’ Gong ag’in. ‘Come ahead on de outside—now we’s pinted for Sent Louis, en I’s outer de woods en ain’t got to drown myself at all.’ I knowed de Mogul ’uz in de Sent Louis trade now, you see. It ’uz jes fair daylight when we passed our plantation, en I seed a gang o’ niggers en white folks huntin’ up en down de sho’, en troublin’ deyselves a good deal ’bout me; but I warn’t troublin’ myself none ’bout dem.
“’Bout dat time Sally Jackson, dat used to be my second chambermaid en ’uz head chambermaid now, she come out on de guard, en ’uz pow’ful glad to see me, en so ’uz all de officers; en I tole ’em I’d got kidnapped en sole down de river, en dey made me up twenty dollahs en give it to me, en Sally she rigged me out wid good clo’es, en when I got here I went straight to whah you used to wuz, en den I come to dis house, en dey say you’s away but ’spected back every day; so I didn’t dast to go down de river to Dawson’s, ’ca’se I might miss you.
“Well, las’ Monday I ’uz pass’n’ by one o’ dem places in Fourth street whah deh sticks up runaway-nigger bills, en he’ps to ketch ’em, en I seed my marster! I ’mos’ flopped down on de groun’, I felt so gone. He had his back to me, en ’uz talkin’ to de man en givin’ him some bills—nigger-bills, I reckon, en I’se de nigger. He’s offerin’ a reward—dat’s it. Ain’t I right, don’t you reckon?”
Tom had been gradually sinking into a state of ghastly terror, and he said to himself, now: “I’m lost, no matter what turn things take! This man has said to me that he thinks there was something suspicious about that sale. He said he had a letter from a passenger on the Grand Mogul saying that Roxy came here on that boat and that everybody on board knew all about the case; so he says that her coming here instead of flying to a free State looks bad for me, and that if I don’t find her for him, and that pretty soon, he will make trouble for me. I never believed that story; I couldn’t believe she would be so dead to all motherly instincts as to come here, knowing the risk she would run of getting me into irremediable trouble. And after all, here she is! And I stupidly swore I would help him find her, thinking it was a perfectly safe thing to promise. If I venture to deliver her up, she—she—but how can I help myself? I’ve got to do that or pay the money, and where’s the money to come from? I—I—well, I should think that if he would swear to treat her kindly hereafter—and she says, herself, that he is a good man—and if he would swear to never allow her to be overworked, or ill fed, or—”
A flash of lightning exposed Tom’s pallid face, drawn and rigid with these worrying thoughts. Roxana spoke up sharply now, and there was apprehension in her voice—