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 a 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
give me enough to eat–en he ketched her at it, en giver 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 hellfire 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 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.