OF COVEY—ESCAPE TO ST. MICHAEL’S—THE PURSUIT—SUFFERING IN THE
WOODS—DRIVEN BACK AGAIN TO COVEY’S—BEARING OF MASTER THOMAS—THE SLAVE
SLAVEHOLDERS.
The foregoing chapter, with all its horrid5 incidents and shocking features, may be taken as a fair representation of the first six months of my life at Covey’s. The reader has but to repeat, in his own mind, once a week, the scene in the woods, where Covey subjected me to his merciless lash7, to have a true idea of my bitter experience there, during the first period of the breaking process through which Mr. Covey carried me. I have no heart to repeat each separate transaction, in which I was victim of his violence and brutality. Such a narration8 would fill a volume much larger than the present one. I aim only to give the reader a truthful9 impression of my slave life, without unnecessarily affecting him with harrowing details.
As I have elsewhere intimated that my hardships were much greater during the first six months of my stay at Covey’s, than during the remainder of the year, and as the change in my condition was owing to causes which may help the reader to a better understanding of human nature, when subjected to the terrible extremities11 of slavery, I will narrate12 the circumstances of this[173] change, although I may seem thereby13 to applaud my own courage. You have, dear reader, seen me humbled14, degraded, broken down, enslaved, and brutalized, and you understand how it was done; now let us see the converse15 of all this, and how it was brought about; and this will take us through the year 1834.
On one of the hottest days of the month of August, of the year just mentioned, had the reader been passing through Covey’s farm, he might have seen me at work, in what is there called the “treading yard”—a yard upon which wheat is trodden out from the straw, by the horses’ feet. I was there, at work, feeding the “fan,” or rather bringing wheat to the fan, while Bill Smith was feeding. Our force consisted of Bill Hughes, Bill Smith, and a slave by the name of Eli; the latter having been hired for this occasion. The work was simple, and required strength and activity, rather than any skill or intelligence, and yet, to one entirely16 unused to such work, it came very hard. The heat was intense and overpowering, and there was much hurry to get the wheat, trodden out that day, through the fan; since, if that work was done an hour before sundown, the hands would have, according to a promise of Covey, that hour added to their night’s rest. I was not behind any of them in the wish to complete the day’s work before sundown, and, hence, I struggled with all my might to get the work forward. The promise of one hour’s repose17 on a week day, was sufficient to quicken my pace, and to spur me on to extra endeavor. Besides, we had all planned to go fishing, and I certainly wished to have a hand in that. But I was disappointed, and the day turned out to be one of the bitterest I ever experienced. About three o’clock, while the sun was pouring down his burning rays, and not a breeze was stirring, I broke down; my strength failed me; I was seized with a violent aching of the head, attended with extreme dizziness, and trembling in every limb. Finding what was coming, and feeling it would never do to stop work, I nerved myself up, and staggered on until I fell by the side of the wheat fan, feeling that the earth had fallen[174] upon me. This brought the entire work to a dead stand. There was work for four; each one had his part to perform, and each part depended on the other, so that when one stopped, all were compelled to stop. Covey, who had now become my dread18, as well as my tormentor19, was at the house, about a hundred yards from where I was fanning, and instantly, upon hearing the fan stop, he came down to the treading yard, to inquire into the cause of our stopping. Bill Smith told him I was sick, and that I was unable longer to bring wheat to the fan.
I had, by this time, crawled away, under the side of a post-and-rail fence, in the shade, and was exceeding ill. The intense heat of the sun, the heavy dust rising from the fan, the stooping, to take up the wheat from the yard, together with the hurrying, to get through, had caused a rush of blood to my head. In this condition, Covey finding out where I was, came to me; and, after standing10 over me a while, he asked me what the matter was. I told him as well as I could, for it was with difficulty that I could speak. He then gave me a savage20 kick in the side, which jarred my whole frame, and commanded me to get up. The man had obtained complete control over me; and if he had commanded me to do any possible thing, I should, in my then state of mind, have endeavored to comply. I made an effort to rise, but fell back in the attempt, before gaining my feet. The brute21 now gave me another heavy kick, and again told me to rise. I again tried to rise, and succeeded in gaining my feet; but upon stooping to get the tub with which I was feeding the fan, I again staggered and fell to the ground; and I must have so fallen, had I been sure that a hundred bullets would have pierced me, as the consequence. While down, in this sad condition, and perfectly22 helpless, the merciless Negro breaker took up the hickory slab23, with which Hughes had been striking off the wheat to a level with the sides of the half bushel measure (a very hard weapon) and with the sharp edge of it, he dealt me a heavy blow on my head which made a large gash24, and caused the blood to run freely, saying,[175] at the same time, “If you have got the headache, I’ll cure you.” This done, he ordered me again to rise, but I made no effort to do so; for I had made up my mind that it was useless, and that the heartless monster might now do his worst; he could but kill me, and that might put me out of my misery25. Finding me unable to rise, or rather despairing of my doing so, Covey left me, with a view to getting on with the work without me. I was bleeding very freely, and my face was soon covered with my warm blood. Cruel and merciless as was the motive26 that dealt that blow, dear reader, the wound was fortunate for me. Bleeding was never more efficacious. The pain in my head speedily abated27, and I was soon able to rise. Covey had, as I have said, now left me to my fate; and the question was, shall I return to my work, or shall I find my way to St. Michael’s, and make Capt. Auld28 acquainted with the atrocious cruelty of his brother Covey, and beseech29 him to get me another master? Remembering the object he had in view, in placing me under the management of Covey, and further, his cruel treatment of my poor crippled cousin, Henny, and his meanness in the matter of feeding and clothing his slaves, there was little ground to hope for a favorable reception at the hands of Capt. Thomas Auld. Nevertheless, I resolved to go straight to Capt. Auld, thinking that, if not animated30 by motives31 of humanity, he might be induced to interfere32 on my behalf from selfish considerations. “He cannot,” thought I, “allow his property to be thus bruised33 and battered34, marred35 and defaced; and I will go to him, and tell him the simple truth about the matter.” In order to get to St. Michael’s, by the most favorable and direct road, I must walk seven miles; and this, in my sad condition, was no easy performance. I had already lost much blood; I was exhausted36 by over exertion37; my sides were sore from the heavy blows planted there by the stout38 boots of Mr. Covey; and I was, in every way, in an unfavorable plight39 for the journey. I however watched my chance, while the cruel and cunning Covey was looking in an opposite direction, and started[176] off, across the field, for St. Michael’s. This was a daring step; if it failed, it would only exasperate40 Covey, and increase the rigors41 of my bondage42, during the remainder of my term of service under him; but the step was taken, and I must go forward. I succeeded in getting nearly half way across the broad field, toward the woods, before Mr. Covey observed me. I was still bleeding, and the exertion of running had started the blood afresh. “Come back! Come back!” vociferated Covey, with threats of what he would do if I did not return instantly. But, disregarding his calls and his threats, I pressed on toward the woods as fast as my feeble state would allow. Seeing no signs of my stopping, Covey caused his horse to be brought out and saddled, as if he intended to pursue me. The race was now to be an unequal one; and, thinking I might be overhauled43 by him, if I kept the main road, I walked nearly the whole distance in the woods, keeping far enough from the road to avoid detection and pursuit. But, I had not gone far, before my little strength again failed me, and I laid down. The blood was still oozing44 from the wound in my head; and, for a time, I suffered more than I can describe. There I was, in the deep woods, sick and emaciated45, pursued by a wretch46 whose character for revolting cruelty beggars all opprobrious47 speech—bleeding, and almost bloodless. I was not without the fear of bleeding to death. The thought of dying in the woods, all alone, and of being torn to pieces by the buzzards, had not yet been rendered tolerable by my many troubles and hardships, and I was glad when the shade of the trees, and the cool evening breeze, combined with my matted hair to stop the flow of blood. After lying there about three quarters of an hour, brooding over the singular and mournful lot to which I was doomed48, my mind passing over the whole scale or circle of belief and unbelief, from faith in the overruling providence49 of God, to the blackest atheism50, I again took up my journey toward St. Michael’s, more weary and sad than in the morning when I left Thomas Auld’s for the home of Mr. Covey. I was bare-footed and bare-headed, and in[177] my shirt sleeves. The way was through bogs51 and briers, and I tore my feet often during the journey. I was full five hours in going the seven or eight miles; partly, because of the difficulties of the way, and partly, because of the feebleness induced by my illness, bruises52 and loss of blood. On gaining my master’s store, I presented an appearance of wretchedness and woe53, fitted to move any but a heart of stone. From the crown of my head to the sole of my feet, there were marks of blood. My hair was all clotted54 with dust and blood, and the back of my shirt was literally55 stiff with the same. Briers and thorns had scarred and torn my feet and legs, leaving blood marks there. Had I escaped from a den6 of tigers, I could not have looked worse than I did on reaching St. Michael’s. In this unhappy plight, I appeared before my professedly Christian56 master, humbly57 to invoke58 the interposition of his power and authority, to protect me from further abuse and violence. I had begun to hope, during the latter part of my tedious journey toward St. Michael’s, that Capt. Auld would now show himself in a nobler light than I had ever before seen him. I was disappointed. I had jumped from a sinking ship into the sea; I had fled from the tiger to something worse. I told him all the circumstances, as well as I could; how I was endeavoring to please Covey; how hard I was at work in the present instance; how unwilling59 I sunk down under the heat, toil60 and pain; the brutal2 manner in which Covey had kicked me in the side; the gash cut in my head; my hesitation61 about troubling him (Capt. Auld) with complaints; but, that now I felt it would not be best longer to conceal62 from him the outrages63 committed on me from time to time by Covey. At first, master Thomas seemed somewhat affected64 by the story of my wrongs, but he soon repressed his feelings and became cold as iron. It was impossible—as I stood before him at the first—for him to seem indifferent. I distinctly saw his human nature asserting its conviction against the slave system, which made cases like mine possible; but, as I have said, humanity fell before the systematic65 tyranny of slavery. He first walked[178] the floor, apparently66 much agitated67 by my story, and the sad spectacle I presented; but, presently, it was his turn to talk. He began moderately, by finding excuses for Covey, and ending with a full justification68 of him, and a passionate69 condemnation70 of me. “He had no doubt I deserved the flogging. He did not believe I was sick; I was only endeavoring to get rid of work. My dizziness was laziness, and Covey did right to flog me, as he had done.” After thus fairly annihilating71 me, and rousing himself by his own eloquence72, he fiercely demanded what I wished him to do in the case!
With such a complete knock-down to all my hopes, as he had given me, and feeling, as I did, my entire subjection to his power, I had very little heart to reply. I must not affirm my innocence73 of the allegations which he had piled up against me; for that would be impudence74, and would probably call down fresh violence as well as wrath75 upon me. The guilt76 of a slave is always, and everywhere, presumed; and the innocence of the slaveholder or the slave employer, is always asserted. The word of the slave, against this presumption77, is generally treated as impudence, worthy78 of punishment. “Do you contradict me, you rascal79?” is a final silencer of counter statements from the lips of a slave.
Calming down a little in view of my silence and hesitation, and, perhaps, from a rapid glance at the picture of misery I presented, he inquired again, “what I would have him do?” Thus invited a second time, I told Master Thomas I wished him to allow me to get a new home and to find a new master; that, as sure as I went back to live with Mr. Covey again, I should be killed by him; that he would never forgive my coming to him (Capt. Auld) with a complaint against him (Covey); that, since I had lived with him, he almost crushed my spirit, and I believed that he would ruin me for future service; that my life was not safe in his hands. This, Master Thomas (my brother in the church) regarded as “nonsence(sic).” “There was no danger of Mr. Covey’s killing80 me; he was a good man, industrious81 and religious, and he would not think of[179] removing me from that home; besides,” said he and this I found was the most distressing82 thought of all to him—“if you should leave Covey now, that your year has but half expired, I should lose your wages for the entire year. You belong to Mr. Covey for one year, and you must go back to him, come what will. You must not trouble me with any more stories about Mr. Covey; and if you do not go immediately home, I will get hold of you myself.” This was just what I expected, when I found he had prejudged the case against me. “But, Sir,” I said, “I am sick and tired, and I cannot get home to-night.” At this, he again relented, and finally he allowed me to remain all night at St. Michael’s; but said I must be off early in the morning, and concluded his directions by making me swallow a huge dose of epsom salts—about the only medicine ever administered to slaves.
It was quite natural for Master Thomas to presume I was feigning83 sickness to escape work, for he probably thought that were he in the place of a slave with no wages for his work, no praise for well doing, no motive for toil but the lash—he would try every possible scheme by which to escape labor84. I say I have no doubt of this; the reason is, that there are not, under the whole heavens, a set of men who cultivate such an intense dread of labor as do the slaveholders. The charge of laziness against the slave is ever on their lips, and is the standing apology for every species of cruelty and brutality. These men literally “bind heavy burdens, grievous to be borne, and lay them on men’s shoulders; but they, themselves, will not move them with one of their fingers.”
My kind readers shall have, in the next chapter—what they were led, perhaps, to expect to find in this—namely: an account of my partial disenthrallment from the tyranny of Covey, and the marked change which it brought about.
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narrating
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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brutality
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feign
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horrid
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den
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lash
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narration
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| n.讲述，叙述；故事；记叙体 | |
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truthful
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standing
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extremities
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narrate
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thereby
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humbled
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converse
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entirely
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repose
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dread
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tormentor
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savage
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brute
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perfectly
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slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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gash
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misery
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motive
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abated
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| 减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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auld
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beseech
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animated
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motives
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interfere
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bruised
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battered
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marred
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exhausted
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exertion
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plight
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exasperate
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rigors
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| 严格( rigor的名词复数 )； 严酷； 严密； （由惊吓或中毒等导致的身体）僵直 | |
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bondage
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overhauled
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oozing
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的现在分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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emaciated
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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opprobrious
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doomed
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providence
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atheism
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bogs
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bruises
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woe
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clotted
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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invoke
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unwilling
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toil
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hesitation
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conceal
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outrages
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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apparently
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agitated
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justification
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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70
condemnation
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| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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71
annihilating
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的现在分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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72
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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73
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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74
impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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76
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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77
presumption
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| n.推测，可能性，冒昧，放肆，[法律]推定 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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79
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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80
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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81
industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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82
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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83
feigning
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| 假装，伪装( feign的现在分词 )； 捏造（借口、理由等） | |
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84
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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