Chapter 20

BASS FAITHFUL TO HIS WORD—HIS ARRIVAL ON CHRISTMAS EVE—THE DIFFICULTY OF OBTAINING AN INTERVIEW—THE MEETING IN THE CABIN—NON-ARRIVAL OF THE LETTER—BASS ANNOUNCES HIS INTENTION TO PROCEED NORTH—CHRISTMAS—CONVERSATION BETWEEN EPPS AND BASS—YOUNG MISTRESS M'COY, THE BEAUTY OF BAYOU BŒUF—THE "NE PLUS ULTRA" OF DINNERS—MUSIC AND DANCING—PRESENCE OF THE MISTRESS—HER EXCEEDING BEAUTY—THE LAST SLAVE DANCE—WILLIAM PIERCE—OVERSLEEP MYSELF—THE LAST WHIPPING—DESPONDENCY—THE COLD MORNING—EPPS' THREATS—THE PASSING CARRIAGE—STRANGERS APPROACHING THROUGH THE COTTON-FIELD—LAST HOUR ON BAYOU BŒUF.

BASS KEEPS HIS WORD. HE ARRIVES ON CHRISTMAS EVE. THE DIFFICULTY OF MEETING WITH HIM. THE MEETING IN THE CABIN. THE LETTER HAS NOT ARRIVED. BASS ANNOUNCES HIS INTENTION TO GO NORTH. CHRISTMAS. A CONVERSATION BETWEEN EPPS AND BASS. YOUNG MISTRESS M'COY, THE BEAUTY OF BAYOU BŒUF. THE "NE PLUS ULTRA" OF DINNERS. MUSIC AND DANCING. THE MISTRESS IS PRESENT. HER EXCEPTIONAL BEAUTY. THE LAST SLAVE DANCE. WILLIAM PIERCE. I OVERSLEEP. THE LAST WHIPPING. DESPAIR. THE COLD MORNING. EPPS' THREATS. THE PASSING CARRIAGE. STRANGERS APPROACHING THROUGH THE COTTON FIELD. THE LAST HOUR ON BAYOU BŒUF.

Faithful to his word, the day before Christmas, just at night-fall, Bass came riding into the yard.

True to his word, Bass rode into the yard just as night fell on Christmas Eve.

"How are you," said Epps, shaking him by the hand, "glad to see you."

"How are you?" Epps said, shaking his hand. "Glad to see you."

He would not have been very glad had he known the object of his errand.

He would not have been very glad if he had known the purpose of his errand.

"Quite well, quite well," answered Bass. "Had some business out on the bayou, and concluded to call and see you, and stay over night."

"Quite well, quite well," Bass answered. "I had some business out on the bayou, so I decided to visit you and stay overnight."

Epps ordered one of the slaves to take charge of his horse, and with much talk and laughter they passed into the house together; not, however, until Bass had looked at me significantly, as much as to say, "Keep dark, we understand each other." It was ten o'clock at night before the labors of the day were performed, when I entered the cabin. At that time Uncle Abram and Bob occupied it with me. I laid down upon my board and feigned I was asleep. When my companions had fallen into a profound slumber, I moved stealthily out of the door, and watched, and listened attentively for some sign or sound from Bass. There I stood until long after midnight, but nothing could be seen or heard. As I suspected, he dared not leave the house, through fear of exciting the suspicion of some of the family. I judged, correctly, he would rise earlier than was his custom, and take the opportunity of seeing me before Epps was up. Accordingly I aroused Uncle Abram an hour sooner than usual, and sent him into the house to build a fire, which, at that season of the year, is a part of Uncle Abram's duties.

Epps ordered one of the slaves to take charge of his horse. Then they went into the house together, talking and laughing. But first, Bass gave me a meaningful look, as if to say, "Keep quiet, we understand each other." It was ten o'clock at night before the day's work was done and I entered the cabin. At that time, Uncle Abram and Bob shared it with me. I lay down on my board and pretended to be asleep. When my companions were fast asleep, I slipped out the door. I watched and listened carefully for some sign or sound from Bass. I stood there until long after midnight, but I saw and heard nothing. As I suspected, he did not dare leave the house for fear of arousing the family's suspicion. I correctly guessed that he would get up earlier than usual. Then he could see me before Epps was up. So I woke Uncle Abram an hour earlier than usual and sent him into the house to build a fire. At that time of year, building the fire was one of Uncle Abram's duties.

I also gave Bob a violent shake, and asked him if he intended to sleep till noon, saying master would be up before the mules were fed. He knew right well the consequence that would follow such an event, and, jumping to his feet, was at the horse-pasture in a twinkling.

I also shook Bob hard and asked if he meant to sleep until noon. I told him master would be up before the mules were fed. Bob knew very well what would happen if they weren't fed in time. He jumped to his feet and was at the horse pasture in no time.

Presently, when both were gone, Bass slipped into the cabin.

Soon, when both were gone, Bass slipped into the cabin.

"No letter yet, Platt," said he. The announcement fell upon my heart like lead.

"No letter yet, Platt," he said. The news weighed on my heart like lead.

"Oh, do write again, Master Bass," I cried; "I will give you the names of a great many I know. Surely they are not all dead. Surely some one will pity me."

"Oh, do write again, Master Bass," I cried. "I will give you the names of many people I know. Surely they are not all dead. Surely someone will pity me."

"No use," Bass replied, "no use. I have made up my mind to that. I fear the Marksville post-master will mistrust something, I have inquired so often at his office. Too uncertain—too dangerous."

"No use," Bass replied, "no use. I've made up my mind about that. I'm afraid the Marksville postmaster will suspect something because I've asked at his office so often. It's too uncertain, too dangerous."

"Then it is all over," I exclaimed. "Oh, my God, how can I end my days here!"

"Then it's all over," I cried. "Oh, my God, how can I spend the rest of my life here!"

"You're not going to end them here," he said, "unless you die very soon. I've thought this matter all over, and have come to a determination. There are more ways than one to manage this business, and a better and surer way than writing letters. I have a job or two on hand which can be completed by March or April. By that time I shall have a considerable sum of money, and then, Platt, I am going to Saratoga myself."

"You're not going to end them here," he said, "unless you die very soon. I've thought this whole matter over and made a decision. There's more than one way to handle this, and a better, surer way than writing letters. I have a job or two I can finish by March or April. By then I'll have a considerable sum of money. And then, Platt, I'm going to Saratoga myself."

I could scarcely credit my own senses as the words fell from his lips. But he assured me, in a manner that left no doubt of the sincerity of his intention, that if his life was spared until spring, he should certainly undertake the journey.

I could hardly believe my ears as he spoke. But he assured me he would certainly make the journey if he lived until spring. He spoke in a way that left no doubt he meant it.

"I have lived in this region long enough," he continued; "I may as well be in one place as another. For a long time I have been thinking of going back once more to the place where I was born. I'm tired of Slavery as well as you. If I can succeed in getting you away from here, it will be a good act that I shall like to think of all my life. And I shall succeed, Platt; I'm bound to do it. Now let me tell you what I want. Epps will be up soon, and it won't do to be caught here. Think of a great many men at Saratoga and Sandy Hill, and in that neighborhood, who once knew you. I shall make excuse to come here again in the course of the winter, when I will write down their names. I will then know who to call on when I go north. Think of all you can. Cheer up! Don't be discouraged. I'm with you, life or death. Good-bye. God bless you," and saying this he left the cabin quickly, and entered the great house.

"I've lived in this region long enough," he continued. "I might as well be in one place as another. For a long time, I've been thinking of going back to the place where I was born. I'm tired of slavery too. If I can get you out of here, it will be a good deed I'll cherish all my life. And I shall succeed, Platt. I'm bound to do it. Now let me tell you what I want. Epps will be up soon, and I can't let him catch me here. Think of as many men as you can who once knew you in Saratoga, Sandy Hill, and the surrounding area. I'll find an excuse to come back here during the winter, and I'll write down their names. Then I'll know who to call on when I go north. Think of everyone you can. Cheer up! Don't be discouraged. I'm with you, life or death. Good-bye. God bless you." With that, he quickly left the cabin and entered the great house.

It was Christmas morning—the happiest day in the whole year for the slave. That morning he need not hurry to the field, with his gourd and cotton-bag. Happiness sparkled in the eyes and overspread the countenances of all. The time of feasting and dancing had come. The cane and cotton fields were deserted. That day the clean dress was to be donned—the red ribbon displayed; there were to be re-unions, and joy and laughter, and hurrying to and fro. It was to be a day of liberty among the children of Slavery. Wherefore they were happy, and rejoiced.

It was Christmas morning, the happiest day of the whole year for the slave. That morning, he did not have to hurry to the field with his gourd and cotton bag. Happiness sparkled in everyone’s eyes and spread across their faces. The time for feasting and dancing had come. The cane and cotton fields were deserted. That day, people would put on clean clothes and show off red ribbons. There would be reunions, joy and laughter, and people hurrying back and forth. It was to be a day of liberty among the children of Slavery. So they were happy and rejoiced.

After breakfast Epps and Bass sauntered about the yard, conversing upon the price of cotton, and various other topics.

After breakfast, Epps and Bass strolled around the yard, talking about the price of cotton and various other topics.

"Where do your niggers hold Christmas?" Bass inquired.

"Where do your niggers celebrate Christmas?" Bass asked.

"Platt is going to Tanners to-day. His fiddle is in great demand. They want him at Marshall's Monday, and Miss Mary McCoy, on the old Norwood plantation, writes me a note that she wants him to play for her niggers Tuesday."

"Platt is going to Tanners today. His fiddle is in great demand. They want him at Marshall's Monday. Miss Mary McCoy, on the old Norwood plantation, wrote me a note. She wants him to play for her niggers Tuesday."

"He is rather a smart boy, ain't he?" said Bass. "Come here, Platt," he added, looking at me as I walked up to them, as if he had never thought before to take any special notice of me.

"He is a pretty smart boy, ain't he?" said Bass. "Come here, Platt," he added. He looked at me as I walked up to them, as if he had never thought to pay me any special attention before.

"Yes," replied Epps, taking hold of my arm and feeling it, "there isn't a bad joint in him. There ain't a boy on the bayou worth more than he is—perfectly sound, and no bad tricks. D—n him, he isn't like other niggers; doesn't look like 'em—don't act like 'em. I was offered seventeen hundred dollars for him last week."

"Yes," replied Epps, taking my arm and feeling it, "there isn't a bad joint in him. There ain't a boy on the bayou worth more than he is. He's perfectly sound and has no bad tricks. Darn him, he isn't like other niggers. He doesn't look like them or act like them. I was offered seventeen hundred dollars for him last week."

"And didn't take it?" Bass inquired, with an air of surprise.

"And didn't take it?" Bass asked, sounding surprised.

"Take it—no; devilish clear of it. Why, he's a reg'lar genius; can make a plough beam, wagon tongue—anything, as well as you can. Marshall wanted to put up one of his niggers agin him and raffle for them, but I told him I would see the devil have him first."

"Take it? No, devilish clear of it. Why, he's a regular genius. He can make a plow beam, a wagon tongue, anything, as well as you can. Marshall wanted to put up one of his niggers against him and raffle for them. But I told him I would see the devil have him first."

"I don't see anything remarkable about him," Bass observed.

"I don't see anything remarkable about him," Bass said.

"Why, just feel of him, now," Epps rejoined. "You don't see a boy very often put together any closer than he is. He's a thin-skin'd cuss, and won't bear as much whipping as some; but he's got the muscle in him, and no mistake."

"Why, just feel him now," Epps replied. "You don't often see a boy as solidly built as he is. He's a thin-skinned cuss and can't take as much whipping as some. But he's got muscle in him, no mistake."

Bass felt of me, turned me round, and made a thorough examination, Epps all the while dwelling on my good points. But his visitor seemed to take but little interest finally in the subject, and consequently it was dropped. Bass soon departed, giving me another sly look of recognition and significance, as he trotted out of the yard.

Bass felt me, turned me around, and examined me thoroughly, while Epps kept praising my good qualities. But in the end, his visitor seemed to have little interest in the subject, so they dropped it. Bass soon left, giving me another sly, knowing look as he trotted out of the yard.

When he was gone I obtained a pass, and started for Tanner's—not Peter Tanner's, of whom mention has previously been made, but a relative of his. I played during the day and most of the night, spending the next day, Sunday, in my cabin. Monday I crossed the bayou to Douglas Marshall's, all Epps' slaves accompanying me, and on Tuesday went to the old Norwood place, which is the third plantation above Marshall's, on the same side of the water.

After he left, I obtained a pass and set out for Tanner's. This was not Peter Tanner, whom I mentioned earlier, but a relative of his. I played during the day and most of the night, then spent the next day, Sunday, in my cabin. On Monday, I crossed the bayou to Douglas Marshall's, accompanied by all of Epps' slaves. On Tuesday, I went to the old Norwood place. It is the third plantation above Marshall's, on the same side of the water.

This estate is now owned by Miss Mary McCoy, a lovely girl, some twenty years of age. She is the beauty and the glory of Bayou Bœuf. She owns about a hundred working hands, besides a great many house servants, yard boys, and young children. Her brother-in-law, who resides on the adjoining estate, is her general agent. She is beloved by all her slaves, and good reason indeed have they to be thankful that they have fallen into such gentle hands. Nowhere on the bayou are there such feasts, such merrymaking, as at young Madam McCoy's. Thither, more than to any other place, do the old and the young for miles around love to repair in the time of the Christmas holidays; for nowhere else can they find such delicious repasts; nowhere else can they hear a voice speaking to them so pleasantly. No one is so well beloved—no one fills so large a space in the hearts of a thousand slaves, as young Madam McCoy, the orphan mistress of the old Norwood estate.

This estate is now owned by Miss Mary McCoy, a lovely young woman of about twenty. She is the beauty and glory of Bayou Bœuf. She owns about a hundred field hands, as well as many house servants, yard boys, and young children. Her brother-in-law, who lives on the neighboring estate, manages her affairs. All her slaves love her, and they have good reason to be thankful they have fallen into such gentle hands. Nowhere on the bayou are there such feasts and celebrations as at young Madam McCoy's. During the Christmas holidays, people of all ages from miles around prefer to gather there. Nowhere else can they find such delicious meals or hear a voice speak to them so pleasantly. No one is so well loved. No one holds such a place in the hearts of a thousand slaves as young Madam McCoy, the orphaned mistress of the old Norwood estate.

On my arrival at her place, I found two or three hundred had assembled. The table was prepared in a long building, which she had erected expressly for her slaves to dance in. It was covered with every variety of food the country afforded, and was pronounced by general acclamation to be the rarest of dinners. Roast turkey, pig, chicken, duck, and all kinds of meat, baked, boiled, and broiled, formed a line the whole length of the extended table, while the vacant spaces were filled with tarts, jellies, and frosted cake, and pastry of many kinds. The young mistress walked around the table, smiling and saying a kind word to each one, and seemed to enjoy the scene exceedingly.

When I arrived at her place, I found two or three hundred people gathered there. The table was set in a long building she had built expressly for her slaves to dance in. It was covered with every kind of food the country had to offer. Everyone agreed it was an exceptionally fine dinner. Roast turkey, pig, chicken, duck, and all kinds of meat, baked, boiled, and broiled, stretched along the entire table. The spaces between them were filled with tarts, jellies, frosted cake, and many kinds of pastry. The young mistress walked around the table, smiling and saying a kind word to each person. She seemed to enjoy the scene very much.

When the dinner was over the tables were removed to make room for the dancers. I tuned my violin and struck up a lively air; while some joined in a nimble reel, others patted and sang their simple but melodious songs, filling the great room with music mingled with the sound of human voices and the clatter of many feet.

When dinner was over, the tables were moved to make room for the dancers. I tuned my violin and began playing a lively tune. Some danced a quick reel, while others clapped and sang their simple but melodious songs. The great room filled with music, voices, and the clatter of many feet.

In the evening the mistress returned, and stood in the door a long time, looking at us. She was magnificently arrayed. Her dark hair and eyes contrasted strongly with her clear and delicate complexion. Her form was slender but commanding, and her movement was a combination of unaffected dignity and grace. As she stood there, clad in her rich apparel, her face animated with pleasure, I thought I had never looked upon a human being half so beautiful. I dwell with delight upon the description of this fair and gentle lady, not only because she inspired me with emotions of gratitude and admiration, but because I would have the reader understand that all slave-owners on Bayou Bœuf are not like Epps, or Tibeats, or Jim Burns. Occasionally can be found, rarely it may be, indeed, a good man like William Ford, or an angel of kindness like young Mistress McCoy.

In the evening, the mistress returned and stood in the doorway for a long time, looking at us. She was magnificently dressed. Her dark hair and eyes stood out against her clear, delicate complexion. She was slender but commanding, and she moved with natural dignity and grace. She stood there in her fine clothes, her face bright with pleasure. I thought I had never seen anyone half so beautiful. I take delight in describing this beautiful and gentle lady because she inspired gratitude and admiration in me. But I also want the reader to understand that not all slave-owners on Bayou Bœuf are like Epps, Tibeats, or Jim Burns. Now and then, though perhaps rarely, one can find a good man like William Ford, or an angel of kindness like young Mistress McCoy.

Tuesday concluded the three holidays Epps yearly allowed us. On my way home, Wednesday morning, while passing the plantation of William Pierce, that gentleman hailed me, saying he had received a line from Epps, brought down by William Varnell, permitting him to detain me for the purpose of playing for his slaves that night. It was the last time I was destined to witness a slave dance on the shores of Bayou Bœuf. The party at Pierce's continued their jollification until broad daylight, when I returned to my master's house, somewhat wearied with the loss of rest, but rejoicing in the possession of numerous bits and picayunes, which the whites, who were pleased with my musical performances, had contributed.

Tuesday was the last of the three holidays Epps allowed us each year. On Wednesday morning, I was on my way home, passing William Pierce's plantation, when Pierce called out to me. He said he had received a note from Epps, delivered by William Varnell. The note permitted Pierce to keep me there to play for his slaves that night. It was the last time I would witness a slave dance on the shores of Bayou Bœuf. The party at Pierce's went on until broad daylight. Then I returned to my master's house, somewhat tired from missing sleep. But I was delighted to have many bits and picayunes, given to me by the whites who enjoyed my playing.

On Saturday morning, for the first time in years, I overslept myself. I was frightened on coming out of the cabin to find the slaves were already in the field. They had preceded me some fifteen minutes. Leaving my dinner and water-gourd, I hurried after them as fast as I could move. It was not yet sunrise, but Epps was on the piazza as I left the hut, and cried out to me that it was a pretty time of day to be getting up. By extra exertion my row was up when he came out after breakfast. This, however, was no excuse for the offence of oversleeping. Bidding me strip and lie down, he gave me ten or fifteen lashes, at the conclusion of which he inquired if I thought, after that, I could get up sometime in the morning. I expressed myself quite positively that I could, and, with back stinging with pain, went about my work.

On Saturday morning, for the first time in years, I overslept. When I came out of the cabin, I was frightened to find that the slaves were already in the field. They had left about fifteen minutes before me. I left my dinner and water-gourd behind and hurried after them as fast as I could. The sun had not yet risen, but Epps was on the porch as I left the cabin. He called out that it was a pretty time of day to be getting up. By working extra hard, I caught up on my row by the time he came out after breakfast. But that was no excuse for oversleeping. He ordered me to strip and lie down, then gave me ten or fifteen lashes. When he finished, he asked if I thought I could get up sometime in the morning after that. I told him quite firmly that I could, and went back to work with my back stinging from the pain.

The following day, Sunday, my thoughts were upon Bass, and the probabilities and hopes which hung upon his action and determination. I considered the uncertainty of life; that if it should be the will of God that he should die, my prospect of deliverance, and all expectation of happiness in this world, would be wholly ended and destroyed. My sore back, perhaps, did not have a tendency to render me unusually cheerful. I felt down-hearted and unhappy all day long, and when I laid down upon the hard board at night, my heart was oppressed with such a load of grief, it seemed that it must break.

The next day, Sunday, I thought about Bass and the chances and hopes that depended on what he decided to do. I thought about how uncertain life was. If God willed that Bass should die, my hope of being freed would be completely gone. So would all hope of happiness in this world. Perhaps my sore back did not help make me cheerful. I felt downhearted and unhappy all day. When I lay down on the hard board that night, my heart was so heavy with grief that it seemed it must break.

Monday morning, the third of January, 1853, we were in the field betimes. It was a raw, cold morning, such as is unusual in that region. I was in advance, Uncle Abram next to me, behind him Bob, Patsey and Wiley, with our cotton-bags about our necks. Epps happened (a rare thing, indeed,) to come out that morning without his whip. He swore, in a manner that would shame a pirate, that we were doing nothing. Bob ventured to say that his fingers were so numb with cold he couldn't pick fast. Epps cursed himself for not having brought his rawhide, and declared that when he came out again he would warm us well; yes, he would make us all hotter than that fiery realm in which I am sometimes compelled to believe he will himself eventually reside.

On Monday morning, January 3, 1853, we were in the field early. It was a raw, cold morning, unusual for that region. I was in front, with Uncle Abram next, followed by Bob, Patsey, and Wiley. We had our cotton bags around our necks. Epps happened to come out that morning without his whip, a rare thing indeed. He swore in a way that would shame a pirate, saying we were doing nothing. Bob ventured to say that his fingers were so numb from the cold that he couldn't pick fast. Epps cursed himself for not bringing his rawhide whip. He declared that when he came out again, he would warm us well. Yes, he would make us all hotter than that fiery realm where I sometimes must believe he himself will eventually live.

With these fervent expressions, he left us. When out of hearing, we commenced talking to each other, saying how hard it was to be compelled to keep up our tasks with numb fingers; how unreasonable master was, and speaking of him generally in no flattering terms. Our conversation was interrupted by a carriage passing rapidly towards the house. Looking up, we saw two men approaching us through the cotton-field.

With these fervent words, he left us. Once he was out of hearing, we began talking to each other. We said how hard it was to keep working with numb fingers and how unreasonable our master was. We generally spoke of him in unflattering terms. Our conversation was interrupted by a carriage passing quickly toward the house. Looking up, we saw two men approaching us through the cotton field.

Having now brought down this narrative to the last hour I was to spend on Bayou Bœuf—having gotten through my last cotton picking, and about to bid Master Epps farewell—I must beg the reader to go back with me to the month of August; to follow Bass' letter on its long journey to Saratoga; to learn the effect it produced—and that, while I was repining and despairing in the slave hut of Edwin Epps, through the friendship of Bass and the goodness of Providence, all things were working together for my deliverance.

I have now brought this story to my last hour on Bayou Bœuf. I have finished my last cotton picking and am about to say farewell to Master Epps. But I ask the reader to go back with me to August. Let us follow Bass' letter on its long journey to Saratoga and learn what effect it had. While I was grieving and despairing in Edwin Epps' slave hut, everything was working together to bring about my deliverance. This was thanks to Bass' friendship and the goodness of Providence.