Chapter 16
OVERSEERS—HOW THEY ARE ARMED AND ACCOMPANIED—THE HOMICIDE—HIS EXECUTION AT MARKSVILLE—SLAVE-DRIVERS—APPOINTED DRIVER ON REMOVING TO BAYOU BŒUF—PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT—EPPS' ATTEMPT TO CUT PLATT'S THROAT—THE ESCAPE FROM HIM—PROTECTED BY THE MISTRESS—FORBIDS READING AND WRITING—OBTAIN A SHEET OF PAPER AFTER NINE YEARS' EFFORT—THE LETTER—ARMSBY, THE MEAN WHITE—PARTIALLY CONFIDE IN HIM—HIS TREACHERY—EPPS' SUSPICIONS—HOW THEY WERE QUIETED—BURNING THE LETTER—ARMSBY LEAVES THE BAYOU—DISAPPOINTMENT AND DESPAIR.
OVERSEERS, HOW THEY ARE ARMED AND WHO ACCOMPANIES THEM. THE KILLING AND THE KILLER'S EXECUTION AT MARKSVILLE. SLAVE-DRIVERS. APPOINTED DRIVER AFTER MOVING TO BAYOU BŒUF. PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT. EPPS' ATTEMPT TO CUT PLATT'S THROAT. ESCAPE FROM EPPS. PROTECTED BY THE MISTRESS. SHE FORBIDS READING AND WRITING. OBTAIN A SHEET OF PAPER AFTER NINE YEARS OF TRYING. THE LETTER. ARMSBY, THE MEAN WHITE MAN. PARTLY CONFIDE IN HIM. HIS BETRAYAL. EPPS' SUSPICIONS AND HOW THEY WERE QUIETED. BURNING THE LETTER. ARMSBY LEAVES THE BAYOU. DISAPPOINTMENT AND DESPAIR.
With the exception of my trip to St. Mary's parish, and my absence during the cane-cutting seasons, I was constantly employed on the plantation of Master Epps. He was considered but a small planter, not having a sufficient number of hands to require the services of an overseer, acting in the latter capacity himself. Not able to increase his force, it was his custom to hire during the hurry of cotton-picking.
Except for my trip to St. Mary's parish and my time away during the cane-cutting seasons, I worked constantly on Master Epps's plantation. He was considered a small planter. He did not have enough workers to need an overseer, so he acted as overseer himself. Unable to increase his workforce, he usually hired extra workers during the busy cotton-picking season.
On larger estates, employing fifty or a hundred, or perhaps two hundred hands, an overseer is deemed indispensable. These gentlemen ride into the field on horseback, without an exception, to my knowledge, armed with pistols, bowie knife, whip, and accompanied by several dogs. They follow, equipped in this fashion, in rear of the slaves, keeping a sharp lookout upon them all. The requisite qualifications in an overseer are utter heartlessness, brutality and cruelty. It is his business to produce large crops, and if that is accomplished, no matter what amount of suffering it may have cost. The presence of the dogs are necessary to overhaul a fugitive who may take to his heels, as is sometimes the case, when faint or sick, he is unable to maintain his row, and unable, also, to endure the whip. The pistols are reserved for any dangerous emergency, there having been instances when such weapons were necessary. Goaded into uncontrollable madness, even the slave will sometimes turn upon his oppressor. The gallows were standing at Marksville last January, upon which one was executed a year ago for killing his overseer. It occurred not many miles from Epps' plantation on Red River. The slave was given his task at splitting rails. In the course of the day the overseer sent him on an errand, which occupied so much time that it was not possible for him to perform the task. The next day he was called to an account, but the loss of time occasioned by the errand was no excuse, and he was ordered to kneel and bare his back for the reception of the lash. They were in the woods alone—beyond the reach of sight or hearing. The boy submitted until maddened at such injustice, and insane with pain, he sprang to his feet, and seizing an axe, literally chopped the overseer in pieces. He made no attempt whatever at concealment, but hastening to his master, related the whole affair, and declared himself ready to expiate the wrong by the sacrifice of his life. He was led to the scaffold, and while the rope was around his neck, maintained an undismayed and fearless bearing, and with his last words justified the act.
On larger estates, employing fifty, a hundred, or perhaps two hundred hands, an overseer is considered essential. These gentlemen ride into the field on horseback. Without exception, to my knowledge, they carry pistols, a bowie knife, and a whip, and are accompanied by several dogs. Equipped like this, they ride behind the slaves, keeping a close watch on them all. An overseer must be utterly heartless, brutal, and cruel. His job is to produce large crops. If he does that, it does not matter how much suffering it has cost. The dogs are needed to catch a fugitive who may run away. This sometimes happens when a slave is faint or sick and cannot keep up with his row or endure the whip. The pistols are kept for dangerous emergencies, and there have been times when such weapons were necessary. Driven into uncontrollable madness, even a slave will sometimes turn on his oppressor. Last January, the gallows still stood at Marksville where a slave had been executed a year earlier for killing his overseer. The killing happened not many miles from Epps' plantation on Red River. The slave had been given a task of splitting rails. During the day, the overseer sent him on an errand. It took so much time that he could not finish his task. The next day, he was called to account. But the time lost on the errand was no excuse, and he was ordered to kneel and bare his back for the whip. They were alone in the woods, beyond sight or hearing. The boy submitted until the injustice drove him mad and the pain made him lose his senses. He sprang to his feet, seized an axe, and literally chopped the overseer to pieces. He made no attempt to hide what he had done. Instead, he hurried to his master, told him the whole story, and declared himself ready to pay for the wrong with his life. He was led to the gallows. With the rope around his neck, he remained calm and fearless, and with his last words justified what he had done.
Besides the overseer, there are drivers under him, the number being in proportion to the number of hands in the field. The drivers are black, who, in addition to the performance of their equal share of work, are compelled to do the whipping of their several gangs. Whips hang around their necks, and if they fail to use them thoroughly, are whipped themselves. They have a few privileges, however; for example, in cane-cutting the hands are not allowed to sit down long enough to eat their dinners. Carts filled with corn cake, cooked at the kitchen, are driven into the field at noon. The cake is distributed by the drivers, and must be eaten with the least possible delay.
Besides the overseer, there are drivers who work under him. The number of drivers depends on the number of workers in the field. The drivers are black. They must do their equal share of the work and whip the gangs they are responsible for. They wear whips around their necks. If they do not use them thoroughly, they are whipped themselves. The drivers do have a few privileges, however. For example, when cutting cane, the workers are not allowed to sit down long enough to eat dinner. At noon, carts filled with corn cake cooked in the kitchen are driven into the field. The drivers distribute the cake, and it must be eaten as quickly as possible.
When the slave ceases to perspire, as he often does when taxed beyond his strength, he falls to the ground and becomes entirely helpless. It is then the duty of the driver to drag him into the shade of the standing cotton or cane, or of a neighboring tree, where he dashes buckets of water upon him, and uses other means of bringing out perspiration again, when he is ordered to his place, and compelled to continue his labor.
A slave often stops sweating when he is pushed beyond his strength. When this happens, he falls to the ground, completely helpless. The driver must then drag him into the shade of the standing cotton or cane, or a nearby tree. There, the driver throws buckets of water on him and uses other means to make him sweat again. Once he is sweating, he is ordered back to his place and forced to continue working.
At Huff Power, when I first came to Epps', Tom, one of Roberts' negroes, was driver. He was a burly fellow, and severe in the extreme. After Epps' removal to Bayou Bœuf, that distinguished honor was conferred upon myself. Up to the time of my departure I had to wear a whip about my neck in the field. If Epps was present, I dared not show any lenity, not having the Christian fortitude of a certain well-known Uncle Tom sufficiently to brave his wrath, by refusing to perform the office. In that way, only, I escaped the immediate martyrdom he suffered, and, withal, saved my companions much suffering, as it proved in the end. Epps, I soon found, whether actually in the field or not, had his eyes pretty generally upon us. From the piazza, from behind some adjacent tree, or other concealed point of observation, he was perpetually on the watch. If one of us had been backward or idle through the day, we were apt to be told all about it on returning to the quarters, and as it was a matter of principle with him to reprove every offence of that kind that came within his knowledge, the offender not only was certain of receiving a castigation for his tardiness, but I likewise was punished for permitting it.
At Huff Power, when I first came to Epps', Tom, one of Roberts' negroes, was the driver. He was a big, sturdy man, and extremely harsh. After Epps moved to Bayou Bœuf, that distinguished honor was bestowed on me. Until I left, I had to wear a whip around my neck in the field. If Epps was there, I dared not show any mercy. I did not have enough of the Christian courage of a certain well-known Uncle Tom to face Epps' anger by refusing the job. Only in that way did I escape the immediate martyrdom he suffered. As it turned out, I also saved my companions much suffering. I soon found that Epps generally kept his eyes on us, whether he was in the field or not. He was always watching from the porch, from behind a nearby tree, or from some other hidden spot. If one of us had been slow or idle during the day, we were likely to hear all about it when we returned to the quarters. Epps made it a matter of principle to punish every such offense he knew about. The offender was sure to be whipped for being slow. I was also punished for allowing it.
If, on the other hand, he had seen me use the lash freely, the man was satisfied. "Practice makes perfect," truly; and during my eight years' experience as a driver, I learned to handle the whip with marvelous dexterity and precision, throwing the lash within a hair's breadth of the back, the ear, the nose, without, however, touching either of them. If Epps was observed at a distance, or we had reason to apprehend he was sneaking somewhere in the vicinity, I would commence plying the lash vigorously, when, according to arrangement, they would squirm and screech as if in agony, although not one of them had in fact been even grazed. Patsey would take occasion, if he made his appearance presently, to mumble in his hearing some complaints that Platt was lashing them the whole time, and Uncle Abram, with an appearance of honesty peculiar to himself, would declare roundly I had just whipped them worse than General Jackson whipped the enemy at New-Orleans. If Epps was not drunk, and in one of his beastly humors, this was, in general, satisfactory. If he was, some one or more of us must suffer, as a matter of course. Sometimes his violence assumed a dangerous form, placing the lives of his human stock in jeopardy. On one occasion the drunken madman thought to amuse himself by cutting my throat.
If, on the other hand, he saw me use the whip freely, the man was satisfied. "Practice makes perfect," truly. During my eight years as a driver, I learned to handle the whip with remarkable skill and accuracy. I could bring the lash within a hair's breadth of a back, an ear, or a nose without touching them. If we saw Epps in the distance, or had reason to fear he was sneaking around nearby, I would begin whipping vigorously. As we had arranged, the others would squirm and screech as if in agony, although none of them had actually been touched. If Epps appeared soon afterward, Patsey would take the opportunity to mumble complaints within his hearing that Platt was whipping them the whole time. Uncle Abram, with his own particular air of honesty, would firmly declare that I had just whipped them worse than General Jackson whipped the enemy at New-Orleans. If Epps was not drunk and in one of his beastly moods, this was generally enough to satisfy him. If he was, one or more of us would suffer, as a matter of course. Sometimes his violence took a dangerous form, putting the lives of his human property at risk. On one occasion, the drunken madman decided to amuse himself by cutting my throat.
He had been absent at Holmesville, in attendance at a shooting-match, and none of us were aware of his return. While hoeing by the side of Patsey, she exclaimed, in a low voice, suddenly, "Platt, d'ye see old Hog-Jaw beckoning me to come to him?"
He had been away at a shooting match in Holmesville, and none of us knew he had returned. While I was hoeing beside Patsey, she suddenly said in a low voice, "Platt, do you see old Hog-Jaw beckoning me to come to him?"
Glancing sideways, I discovered him in the edge of the field, motioning and grimacing, as was his habit when half-intoxicated. Aware of his lewd intentions, Patsey began to cry. I whispered her not to look up, and to continue at her work, as if she had not observed him. Suspecting the truth of the matter, however, he soon staggered up to me in a great rage.
I glanced sideways and saw him at the edge of the field. He was gesturing and making faces, as he often did when half drunk. Patsey knew his sexual intentions and began to cry. I whispered to her not to look up and to keep working, as if she had not seen him. But he suspected what was happening and soon staggered up to me in a rage.
"What did you say to Pats?" he demanded, with an oath. I made him some evasive answer, which only had the effect of increasing his violence.
"What did you say to Pats?" he demanded, swearing. I gave him an evasive answer, which only made him more violent.
"How long have you owned this plantation, say, you d——d nigger?" he inquired, with a malicious sneer, at the same time taking hold of my shirt collar with one hand, and thrusting the other into his pocket. "Now I'll cut your black throat; that's what I'll do," drawing his knife from his pocket as he said it. But with one hand he was unable to open it, until finally seizing the blade in his teeth, I saw he was about to succeed, and felt the necessity of escaping from him, for in his present reckless state, it was evident he was not joking, by any means. My shirt was open in front, and as I turned round quickly and sprang from him, while he still retained his gripe, it was stripped entirely from my back. There was no difficulty now in eluding him. He would chase me until out of breath, then stop until it was recovered, swear, and renew the chase again. Now he would command me to come to him, now endeavor to coax me, but I was careful to keep at a respectful distance. In this manner we made the circuit of the field several times, he making desperate plunges, and I always dodging them, more amused than frightened, well knowing that when his sober senses returned, he would laugh at his own drunken folly. At length I observed the mistress standing by the yard fence, watching our half-serious, half-comical manœuvres. Shooting past him, I ran directly to her. Epps, on discovering her, did not follow. He remained about the field an hour or more, during which time I stood by the mistress, having related the particulars of what had taken place. Now, she was aroused again, denouncing her husband and Patsey about equally. Finally, Epps came towards the house, by this time nearly sober, walking demurely, with his hands behind his back, and attempting to look as innocent as a child.
"How long have you owned this plantation, say, you damned nigger?" he asked with a malicious sneer. He grabbed my shirt collar with one hand and thrust the other into his pocket. "Now I'll cut your black throat. That's what I'll do," he said, drawing his knife from his pocket. But he could not open it with one hand. Finally, he gripped the blade with his teeth, and I saw he was about to succeed. I knew I had to escape. In his reckless state, it was clear he was not joking at all. My shirt was open in front. I turned quickly and sprang away, but he still held my collar, and the shirt was stripped from my back. Now I had no trouble keeping away from him. He would chase me until he was out of breath, then stop to recover, swear, and chase me again. At times he ordered me to come to him. At others he tried to coax me. But I was careful to keep a respectful distance. We went around the field several times this way. He lunged desperately at me, and I dodged him every time. I was more amused than frightened. I knew well that when he sobered up, he would laugh at his own drunken folly. At last, I saw the mistress standing by the yard fence, watching our half-serious, half-comical maneuvers. I darted past Epps and ran straight to her. When he saw her, he did not follow. He stayed in the field for an hour or more. During that time, I stood by the mistress and told her what had happened. Now she was angry again, denouncing her husband and Patsey about equally. Finally, Epps came toward the house, nearly sober by then. He walked meekly, with his hands behind his back, trying to look as innocent as a child.
As he approached, nevertheless, Mistress Epps began to berate him roundly, heaping upon him many rather disrespectful epithets, and demanding for what reason he had attempted to cut my throat. Epps made wondrous strange of it all, and to my surprise, swore by all the saints in the calendar he had not spoken to me that day.
As he approached, however, Mistress Epps began to scold him harshly, calling him many rather disrespectful names. She demanded to know why he had tried to cut my throat. Epps acted as if he knew nothing about it. To my surprise, he swore by all the saints in the calendar that he had not spoken to me that day.
"Platt, you lying nigger, have I?" was his brazen appeal to me.
"Platt, you lying nigger, have I?" he asked me boldly.
It is not safe to contradict a master, even by the assertion of a truth. So I was silent, and when he entered the house I returned to the field, and the affair was never after alluded to.
It is not safe to contradict a master, even by telling the truth. So I said nothing. When he went into the house, I returned to the field, and the matter was never mentioned again.
Shortly after this time a circumstance occurred that came nigh divulging the secret of my real name and history, which I had so long and carefully concealed, and upon which I was convinced depended my final escape. Soon after he purchased me, Epps asked me if I could write and read, and on being informed that I had received some instruction in those branches of education, he assured me, with emphasis, if he ever caught me with a book, or with pen and ink, he would give me a hundred lashes. He said he wanted me to understand that he bought "niggers" to work and not to educate. He never inquired a word of my past life, or from whence I came. The mistress, however, cross-examined me frequently about Washington, which she supposed was my native city, and more than once remarked that I did not talk nor act like the other "niggers," and she was sure I had seen more of the world than I admitted.
Shortly afterward, something happened that nearly exposed my real name and history. I had concealed them carefully for a long time, convinced that my eventual escape depended on keeping them secret. Soon after Epps bought me, he asked whether I could read and write. I told him I had received some instruction in both. He then made it emphatically clear that if he ever caught me with a book or with pen and ink, he would give me a hundred lashes. He wanted me to understand that he bought "niggers" to work, not to educate. He never asked me anything about my past life or where I came from. The mistress, however, often questioned me closely about Washington, which she believed was my native city. More than once, she remarked that I did not talk or act like the other "niggers." She was sure I had seen more of the world than I admitted.
My great object always was to invent means of getting a letter secretly into the post-office, directed to some of my friends or family at the North. The difficulty of such an achievement cannot be comprehended by one unacquainted with the severe restrictions imposed upon me. In the first place, I was deprived of pen, ink, and paper. In the second place, a slave cannot leave his plantation without a pass, nor will a post-master mail a letter for one without written instructions from his owner. I was in slavery nine years, and always watchful and on the alert, before I met with the good fortune of obtaining a sheet of paper. While Epps was in New-Orleans, one winter, disposing of his cotton, the mistress sent me to Holmesville, with an order for several articles, and among the rest a quantity of foolscap. I appropriated a sheet, concealing it in the cabin, under the board on which I slept.
My greatest goal was always to find a way to secretly mail a letter to friends or family in the North. Anyone unfamiliar with the severe restrictions placed on me cannot understand how difficult this was. First, I had no pen, ink, or paper. Second, a slave cannot leave his plantation without a pass. Nor will a postmaster mail a letter for a slave without written instructions from his owner. I had been in slavery for nine years, always watching and alert, before I was fortunate enough to obtain a sheet of paper. One winter, while Epps was in New-Orleans selling his cotton, the mistress sent me to Holmesville with an order for several things. Among them was a quantity of foolscap paper. I took one sheet and hid it in the cabin, under the board where I slept.
After various experiments I succeeded in making ink, by boiling white maple bark, and with a feather plucked from the wing of a duck, manufactured a pen. When all were asleep in the cabin, by the light of the coals, lying upon my plank couch, I managed to complete a somewhat lengthy epistle. It was directed to an old acquaintance at Sandy Hill, stating my condition, and urging him to take measures to restore me to liberty. This letter I kept a long time, contriving measures by which it could be safely deposited in the post-office. At length, a low fellow, by the name of Armsby, hitherto a stranger, came into the neighborhood, seeking a situation as overseer. He applied to Epps, and was about the plantation for several days. He next went over to Shaw's, near by, and remained with him several weeks. Shaw was generally surrounded by such worthless characters, being himself noted as a gambler and unprincipled man. He had made a wife of his slave Charlotte, and a brood of young mulattoes were growing up in his house. Armsby became so much reduced at last, that he was compelled to labor with the slaves. A white man working in the field is a rare and unusual spectacle on Bayou Bœuf. I improved every opportunity of cultivating his acquaintance privately, desiring to obtain his confidence so far as to be willing to intrust the letter to his keeping. He visited Marksville repeatedly, he informed me, a town some twenty miles distant, and there, I proposed to myself, the letter should be mailed.
After several attempts, I succeeded in making ink by boiling white maple bark. I also made a pen from a feather plucked from a duck’s wing. Once everyone in the cabin was asleep, I lay on my plank bed and wrote by the light of the coals. I managed to finish a fairly long letter to an old acquaintance in Sandy Hill. I explained my situation and urged him to take steps to restore my freedom. I kept the letter for a long time, trying to find a way to put it safely in the post office. At last, a low fellow named Armsby came into the neighborhood looking for a job as an overseer. He was a stranger to me. He applied to Epps and spent several days around the plantation. He then went to nearby Shaw’s place and stayed with him for several weeks. Shaw was generally surrounded by such worthless characters. He was himself known as a gambler and an unprincipled man. He had made a wife of his slave Charlotte, and a brood of young mulattoes were growing up in his house. Eventually, Armsby became so poor that he was forced to work alongside the slaves. A white man working in the fields is a rare and unusual sight on Bayou Bœuf. I took every opportunity to get to know him privately. I wanted to gain enough of his trust that I could entrust him with the letter. He told me he visited Marksville, a town about twenty miles away, repeatedly. I intended for the letter to be mailed there.
Carefully deliberating on the most proper manner of approaching him on the subject, I concluded finally to ask him simply if he would deposit a letter for me in the Marksville post-office the next time he visited that place, without disclosing to him that the letter was written, or any of the particulars it contained; for I had fears that he might betray me, and knew that some inducement must be held out to him of a pecuniary nature, before it would be safe to confide in him. As late as one o'clock one night I stole noiselessly from my cabin, and, crossing the field to Shaw's, found him sleeping on the piazza. I had but a few picayunes—the proceeds of my fiddling performances, but all I had in the world I promised him if he would do me the favor required. I begged him not to expose me if he could not grant the request. He assured me, upon his honor, he would deposit it in the Marksville post-office, and that he would keep it an inviolable secret forever. Though the letter was in my pocket at the time, I dared not then deliver it to him, but stating I would have it written in a day or two, bade him good night, and returned to my cabin. It was impossible for me to expel the suspicions I entertained, and all night I lay awake, revolving in my mind the safest course to pursue. I was willing to risk a great deal to accomplish my purpose, but should the letter by any means fall into the hands of Epps, it would be a death-blow to my aspirations. I was "perplexed in the extreme."
I thought carefully about the best way to approach him. Finally, I decided simply to ask him to mail a letter for me at the Marksville post office. He could do it the next time he went there. I would not tell him that the letter was already written or reveal anything it contained. I feared he might betray me, and I knew I had to offer him money before I could safely trust him. One night, as late as one o'clock, I slipped silently out of my cabin. I crossed the field to Shaw's and found him sleeping on the porch. I had only a few picayunes, which I had earned by playing the fiddle. I promised him all I had in the world if he would do me the favor. I begged him not to expose me if he could not do it. He assured me on his honor that he would mail the letter at the Marksville post office. He also promised to keep the matter an absolute secret forever. Although the letter was in my pocket, I dared not give it to him then. Instead, I said I would have it written in a day or two. Then I wished him good night and returned to my cabin. I could not shake my suspicions, and I lay awake all night, considering the safest course to take. I was willing to risk a great deal to achieve my purpose. But if the letter somehow fell into Epps's hands, it would destroy my hopes. I was "perplexed in the extreme."
My suspicions were well-founded, as the sequel demonstrated. The next day but one, while scraping cotton in the field, Epps seated himself on the line fence between Shaw's plantation and his own, in such a position as to overlook the scene of our labors. Presently Armsby made his appearance, and, mounting the fence, took a seat beside him. They remained two or three hours, all of which time I was in an agony of apprehension.
My suspicions were well-founded, as later events proved. Two days later, I was scraping cotton in the field. Epps sat on the boundary fence between Shaw's plantation and his own, where he could watch us work. Soon Armsby appeared, climbed the fence, and sat beside him. They stayed there for two or three hours. The whole time, I was in agony, dreading what might happen.
That night, while broiling my bacon, Epps entered the cabin with his rawhide in his hand.
That night, while I was broiling my bacon, Epps entered the cabin with his rawhide whip in his hand.
"Well, boy," said he, "I understand I've got a larned nigger, that writes letters, and tries to get white fellows to mail 'em. Wonder if you know who he is?"
"Well, boy," he said, "I understand I've got a learned nigger who writes letters and tries to get white fellows to mail them. Wonder if you know who he is?"
My worst fears were realized, and although it may not be considered entirely creditable, even under the circumstances, yet a resort to duplicity and downright falsehood was the only refuge that presented itself.
My worst fears came true. Even under the circumstances, turning to deception and outright lies may not have been entirely honorable. Yet it was the only way out I could see.
"Don't know nothing about it, Master Epps," I answered him, assuming an air of ignorance and surprise; "Don't know nothing at all about it, sir."
"Don't know nothing about it, Master Epps," I answered, pretending to be ignorant and surprised. "Don't know nothing at all about it, sir."
"Wan't you over to Shaw's night before last?" he inquired.
"Wasn't you over to Shaw's night before last?" he asked.
"No, master," was the reply.
"No, master," came the reply.
"Hav'nt you asked that fellow, Armsby, to mail a letter for you at Marksville?"
"Haven't you asked that fellow, Armsby, to mail a letter for you at Marksville?"
"Why, Lord, master, I never spoke three words to him in all my life. I don't know what you mean."
"Why, Lord, master, I've never spoken three words to him in my entire life. I don't know what you mean."
"Well," he continued, "Armsby told me to-day the devil was among my niggers; that I had one that needed close watching or he would run away; and when I axed him why, he said you come over to Shaw's, and waked him up in the night, and wanted him to carry a letter to Marksville. What have you got to say to that, ha?"
"Well," he continued, "Armsby told me today the devil was among my niggers. He said I had one who needed close watching or he would run away. And when I asked him why, he said you came over to Shaw's and woke him up in the night. He said you wanted him to carry a letter to Marksville. What have you got to say to that, ha?"
"All I've got to say, master," I replied, "is, there is no truth in it. How could I write a letter without any ink or paper? There is nobody I want to write to, 'cause I haint got no friends living as I know of. That Armsby is a lying, drunken fellow, they say, and nobody believes him anyway. You know I always tell the truth, and that I never go off the plantation without a pass. Now, master, I can see what that Armsby is after, plain enough. Did'nt he want you to hire him for an overseer?"
"All I've got to say, master," I replied, "is that there is no truth in it. How could I write a letter without any ink or paper? There is nobody I want to write to, because I ain't got no friends living as far as I know. That Armsby is a lying, drunken fellow, they say, and nobody believes him anyway. You know I always tell the truth, and that I never go off the plantation without a pass. Now, master, I can see what that Armsby is after, plain enough. Didn't he want you to hire him as an overseer?"
"Yes, he wanted me to hire him," answered Epps.
"Yes, he wanted me to hire him," Epps replied.
"That's it," said I, "he wants to make you believe we're all going to run away, and then he thinks you'll hire an overseer to watch us. He just made that story out of whole cloth, 'cause he wants to get a situation. It's all a lie, master, you may depend on't."
"That's it," I said. "He wants to make you believe we're all going to run away. Then he thinks you'll hire an overseer to watch us. He made up the whole story because he wants a job. It's all a lie, master, you can be sure of that."
Epps mused awhile, evidently impressed with the plausibility of my theory, and exclaimed,
Epps thought for a while, apparently impressed by how reasonable my theory sounded, and exclaimed,
"I'm d—d, Platt, if I don't believe you tell the truth. He must take me for a soft, to think he can come it over me with them kind of yarns, musn't he? Maybe he thinks he can fool me; maybe he thinks I don't know nothing—can't take care of my own niggers, eh! Soft soap old Epps, eh! Ha, ha, ha! D—n Armsby! Set the dogs on him, Platt," and with many other comments descriptive of Armsby's general character, and his capability of taking care of his own business, and attending to his own "niggers," Master Epps left the cabin. As soon as he was gone I threw the letter in the fire, and, with a desponding and despairing heart, beheld the epistle which had cost me so much anxiety and thought, and which I fondly hoped would have been my forerunner to the land of freedom, writhe and shrivel on its bed of coals, and dissolve into smoke and ashes. Armsby, the treacherous wretch, was driven from Shaw's plantation not long subsequently, much to my relief, for I feared he might renew his conversation, and perhaps induce Epps to credit him.
"I'm damned, Platt, if I don't believe you tell the truth. He must take me for a fool, to think he can fool me with them kinds of stories, mustn't he? Maybe he thinks he can fool me. Maybe he thinks I don't know nothing, can't take care of my own niggers, eh! Sweet-talk old Epps, eh! Ha, ha, ha! Damn Armsby! Set the dogs on him, Platt." Master Epps made many more comments about Armsby's character and his ability to mind his own business and take care of his own "niggers." Then he left the cabin. As soon as he was gone, I threw the letter into the fire. With a hopeless and despairing heart, I watched it twist and shrivel on the coals, then turn to smoke and ashes. The letter had cost me so much anxiety and thought. I had hoped it would go ahead of me to the land of freedom. Not long afterward, Armsby, the treacherous wretch, was driven from Shaw's plantation. I was greatly relieved, for I feared he might bring up the matter again and perhaps persuade Epps to believe him.
I knew not now whither to look for deliverance. Hopes sprang up in my heart only to be crushed and blighted. The summer of my life was passing away; I felt I was growing prematurely old; that a few years more, and toil, and grief, and the poisonous miasmas of the swamps would accomplish their work upon me—would consign me to the grave's embrace, to moulder and be forgotten. Repelled, betrayed, cut off from the hope of succor, I could only prostrate myself upon the earth and groan in unutterable anguish. The hope of rescue was the only light that cast a ray of comfort on my heart. That was now flickering, faint and low; another breath of disappointment would extinguish it altogether, leaving me to grope in midnight darkness to the end of life.
I no longer knew where to turn for deliverance. Hopes arose in my heart, only to be crushed and destroyed. The summer of my life was passing away, and I felt myself growing old too soon. In a few more years, hard work, grief, and the poisonous swamp air would finish their work on me. They would send me to the grave, where I would decay and be forgotten. Rejected, betrayed, and cut off from any hope of help, I could only fall to the ground and groan in unspeakable anguish. The hope of rescue was the only light that brought any comfort to my heart. Now that light was flickering, faint and low. One more disappointment would put it out altogether, leaving me to grope in midnight darkness until the end of my life.