CHAPTER VII.

THE STEAMBOAT RODOLPH--DEPARTURE FROM NEW-ORLEANS--WILLIAM

FORD--ARRIVAL AT ALEXANDRIA, ON RED RIVER--RESOLUTIONS--THE GREAT

PINE WOODS--WILD CATTLE--MARTIN'S SUMMER RESIDENCE--THE TEXAS

ROAD--ARRIVAL AT MASTER FORD'S--ROSE--MISTRESS FORD--SALLY, AND

HER CHILDREN--JOHN, THE COOK--WALTER, SAM, AND ANTONY--THE MILLS

ON INDIAN CREEK--SABBATH DAYS--SAM'S CONVERSION--THE PROFIT OF

KINDNESS--RAFTING--ADAM TAYDEM, THE LITTLE WHITE MAN--CASCALLA AND

HIS TRIBE--THE INDIAN BALL--JOHN M. TIBEATS--THE STORM APPROACHING.

On leaving the New-Orleans slave pen, Harry and I followed our new

master through the streets, while Eliza, crying and turning back, was

forced along by Freeman and his minions, until we found ourselves on

board the steamboat Rodolph, then lying at the levee. In the course

of half an hour we were moving briskly up the Mississippi, bound for

some point on Red River. There were quite a number of slaves on board

beside ourselves, just purchased in the New-Orleans market. I remember

a Mr. Kelsow, who was said to be a well known and extensive planter,

had in charge a gang of women.

Our master's name was William Ford. He resided then in the "Great Pine

Woods," in the parish of Avoyelles, situated on the right bank of

Red River, in the heart of Louisiana. He is now a Baptist preacher.

Throughout the whole parish of Avoyelles, and especially along both

shores of Bayou Boeuf, where he is more intimately known, he is

accounted by his fellow-citizens as a worthy minister of God. In many

northern minds, perhaps, the idea of a man holding his brother man

in servitude, and the traffic in human flesh, may seem altogether

incompatible with their conceptions of a moral or religious life. From

descriptions of such men as Burch and Freeman, and others hereinafter

mentioned, they are led to despise and execrate the whole class of

slaveholders, indiscriminately. But I was sometime his slave, and

had an opportunity of learning well his character and disposition,

and it is but simple justice to him when I say, in my opinion, there

never was a more kind, noble, candid, Christian man than William

Ford. The influences and associations that had always surrounded him,

blinded him to the inherent wrong at the bottom of the system of

Slavery. He never doubted the moral right of one man holding another

in subjection. Looking through the same medium with his fathers

before him, he saw things in the same light. Brought up under other

circumstances and other influences, his notions would undoubtedly

have been different. Nevertheless, he was a model master, walking

uprightly, according to the light of his understanding, and fortunate

was the slave who came to his possession. Were all men such as he,

Slavery would be deprived of more than half its bitterness.

We were two days and three nights on board the steamboat Rodolph,

during which time nothing of particular interest occurred. I was

now known as Platt, the name given me by Burch, and by which I was

designated through the whole period of my servitude. Eliza was sold by

the name of "Dradey." She was so distinguished in the conveyance to

Ford, now on record in the recorder's office in New-Orleans.

On our passage I was constantly reflecting on my situation, and

consulting with myself on the best course to pursue in order to

effect my ultimate escape. Sometimes, not only then, but afterwards,

I was almost on the point of disclosing fully to Ford the facts of my

history. I am inclined now to the opinion it would have resulted in

my benefit. This course was often considered, but through fear of its

miscarriage, never put into execution, until eventually my transfer

and his pecuniary embarrassments rendered it evidently unsafe.

Afterwards, under other masters, unlike William Ford, I knew well

enough the slightest knowledge of my real character would consign me

at once to the remoter depths of Slavery. I was too costly a chattel

to be lost, and was well aware that I would be taken farther on,

into some by-place, over the Texan border, perhaps, and sold; that I

would be disposed of as the thief disposes of his stolen horse, if

my right to freedom was even whispered. So I resolved to lock the

secret closely in my heart--never to utter one word or syllable as to

who or what I was--trusting in Providence and my own shrewdness for

deliverance.

At length we left the steamboat Rodolph at a place called Alexandria,

several hundred miles from New-Orleans. It is a small town on the

southern shore of Red River. Having remained there over night, we

entered the morning train of cars, and were soon at Bayou Lamourie, a

still smaller place, distant eighteen miles from Alexandria. At that

time it was the termination of the railroad. Ford's plantation was

situated on the Texas road, twelve miles from Lamourie, in the Great

Pine Woods. This distance, it was announced to us, must be traveled on

foot, there being public conveyances no farther. Accordingly we all

set out in the company of Ford. It was an excessively hot day. Harry,

Eliza, and myself were yet weak, and the bottoms of our feet were

very tender from the effects of the small-pox. We proceeded slowly,

Ford telling us to take our time and sit down and rest whenever we

desired--a privilege that was taken advantage of quite frequently.

After leaving Lamourie and crossing two plantations, one belonging to

Mr. Carnell, the other to a Mr. Flint, we reached the Pine Woods, a

wilderness that stretches to the Sabine River.

The whole country about Red River is low and marshy. The Pine Woods,

as they are called, is comparatively upland, with frequent small

intervals, however, running through them. This upland is covered with

numerous trees--the white oak, the chincopin, resembling chestnut,

but principally the yellow pine. They are of great size, running up

sixty feet, and perfectly straight. The woods were full of cattle,

very shy and wild, dashing away in herds, with a loud snuff, at our

approach. Some of them were marked or branded, the rest appeared

to be in their wild and untamed state. They are much smaller than

northern breeds, and the peculiarity about them that most attracted my

attention was their horns. They stand out from the sides of the head

precisely straight, like two iron spikes.

At noon we reached a cleared piece of ground containing three or four

acres. Upon it was a small, unpainted, wooden house, a corn crib, or,

as we would say, a barn, and a log kitchen, standing about a rod from

the house. It was the summer residence of Mr. Martin. Rich planters,

having large establishments on Bayou Boeuf, are accustomed to spend

the warmer season in these woods. Here they find clear water and

delightful shades. In fact, these retreats are to the planters of that

section of the country what Newport and Saratoga are to the wealthier

inhabitants of northern cities.

We were sent around into the kitchen, and supplied with sweet

potatoes, corn-bread, and bacon, while Master Ford dined with Martin

in the house. There were several slaves about the premises. Martin

came out and took a look at us, asking Ford the price of each, if we

were green hands, and so forth, and making inquiries in relation to

the slave market generally.

After a long rest we set forth again, following the Texas road, which

had the appearance of being very rarely traveled. For five miles we

passed through continuous woods without observing a single habitation.

At length, just as the sun was sinking in the west, we entered another

opening, containing some twelve or fifteen acres.

In this opening stood a house much larger than Mr. Martin's. It was

two stories high, with a piazza in front. In the rear of it was also a

log kitchen, poultry house, corncribs, and several negro cabins. Near

the house was a peach orchard, and gardens of orange and pomegranate

trees. The space was entirely surrounded by woods, and covered with

a carpet of rich, rank verdure. It was a quiet, lonely, pleasant

place--literally a green spot in the wilderness. It was the residence

of my master, William Ford.

As we approached, a yellow girl--her name was Rose--was standing on

the piazza. Going to the door, she called her mistress, who presently

came running out to meet her lord. She kissed him, and laughingly

demanded if he had bought "those niggers." Ford said he had, and told

us to go round to Sally's cabin and rest ourselves. Turning the corner

of the house, we discovered Sally washing--her two baby children near

her, rolling on the grass. They jumped up and toddled towards us,

looked at us a moment like a brace of rabbits, then ran back to their

mother as if afraid of us.

Sally conducted us into the cabin, told us to lay down our bundles

and be seated, for she was sure that we were tired. Just then John,

the cook, a boy some sixteen years of age, and blacker than any crow,

came running in, looked steadily in our faces, then turning round,

without saying as much as "how d'ye do," ran back to the kitchen,

laughing loudly, as if our coming was a great joke indeed.

Much wearied with our walk, as soon as it was dark, Harry and I

wrapped our blankets round us, and laid down upon the cabin floor.

My thoughts, as usual, wandered back to my wife and children. The

consciousness of my real situation; the hopelessness of any effort to

escape through the wide forests of Avoyelles, pressed heavily upon me,

yet my heart was at home in Saratoga.

I was awakened early in the morning by the voice of Master Ford,

calling Rose. She hastened into the house to dress the children, Sally

to the field to milk the cows, while John was busy in the kitchen

preparing breakfast. In the meantime Harry and I were strolling about

the yard, looking at our new quarters. Just after breakfast a colored

man, driving three yoke of oxen, attached to a wagon load of lumber,

drove into the opening. He was a slave of Ford's, named Walton, the

husband of Rose. By the way, Rose was a native of Washington, and had

been brought from thence five years before. She had never seen Eliza,

but she had heard of Berry, and they knew the same streets, and the

same people, either personally, or by reputation. They became fast

friends immediately, and talked a great deal together of old times,

and of friends they had left behind.

Ford was at that time a wealthy man. Besides his seat in the Pine

Woods, he owned a large lumbering establishment on Indian Creek, four

miles distant, and also, in his wife's right, an extensive plantation

and many slaves on Bayou Boeuf.

Walton had come with his load of lumber from the mills on Indian

Creek. Ford directed us to return with him, saying he would follow

us as soon as possible. Before leaving, Mistress Ford called me into

the store-room, and handed me, as it is there termed, a tin bucket of

molasses for Harry and myself.

Eliza was still ringing her hands and deploring the loss of her

children. Ford tried as much as possible to console her--told her she

need not work very hard; that she might remain with Rose, and assist

the madam in the house affairs.

Riding with Walton in the wagon, Harry and I became quite well

acquainted with him long before reaching Indian Creek. He was a "born

thrall" of Ford's, and spoke kindly and affectionately of him, as

a child would speak of his own father. In answer to his inquiries

from whence I came, I told him from Washington. Of that city, he had

heard much from his wife, Rose, and all the way plied me with many

extravagant and absurd questions.

On reaching the mills at Indian Creek, we found two more of Ford's

slaves, Sam and Antony. Sam, also, was a Washingtonian, having been

brought out in the same gang with Rose. He had worked on a farm near

Georgetown. Antony was a blacksmith, from Kentucky, who had been in

his present master's service about ten years. Sam knew Burch, and when

informed that he was the trader who had sent me on from Washington, it

was remarkable how well we agreed upon the subject of his superlative

rascality. He had forwarded Sam, also.

On Ford's arrival at the mill, we were employed in piling lumber, and

chopping logs, which occupation we continued during the remainder of

the summer.

We usually spent our Sabbaths at the opening, on which days our master

would gather all his slaves about him, and read and expound the

Scriptures. He sought to inculcate in our minds feelings of kindness

towards each other, of dependence upon God--setting forth the rewards

promised unto those who lead an upright and prayerful life. Seated

in the doorway of his house, surrounded by his man-servants and his

maid-servants, who looked earnestly into the good man's face, he spoke

of the loving kindness of the Creator, and of the life that is to

come. Often did the voice of prayer ascend from his lips to heaven,

the only sound that broke the solitude of the place.

In the course of the summer Sam became deeply convicted, his mind

dwelling intensely on the subject of religion. His mistress gave him

a Bible, which he carried with him to his work. Whatever leisure time

was allowed him, he spent in perusing it, though it was only with

great difficulty that he could master any part of it. I often read to

him, a favor which he well repaid me by many expressions of gratitude.

Sam's piety was frequently observed by white men who came to the mill,

and the remark it most generally provoked was, that a man like Ford,

who allowed his slaves to have Bibles, was "not fit to own a nigger."

He, however, lost nothing by his kindness. It is a fact I have

more than once observed, that those who treated their slaves most

leniently, were rewarded by the greatest amount of labor. I know

it from my own experience. It was a source of pleasure to surprise

Master Ford with a greater day's work than was required, while, under

subsequent masters, there was no prompter to extra effort but the

overseer's lash.

It was the desire of Ford's approving voice that suggested to me an

idea that resulted to his profit. The lumber we were manufacturing

was contracted to be delivered at Lamourie. It had hitherto been

transported by land, and was an important item of expense. Indian

Creek, upon which the mills were situated, was a narrow but deep

stream emptying into Bayou Boeuf. In some places it was not more than

twelve feet wide, and much obstructed with trunks of trees. Bayou

Boeuf was connected with Bayou Lamourie. I ascertained the distance

from the mills to the point on the latter bayou, where our lumber

was to be delivered, was but a few miles less by land than by water.

Provided the creek could be made navigable for rafts, it occurred to

me that the expense of transportation would be materially diminished.

Adam Taydem, a little white man, who had been a soldier in Florida,

and had strolled into that distant region, was foreman and

superintendent of the mills. He scouted the idea; but Ford, when I

laid it before him, received it favorably, and permitted me to try the

experiment.

Having removed the obstructions, I made up a narrow raft, consisting

of twelve cribs. At this business I think I was quite skillful, not

having forgotten my experience years before on the Champlain canal. I

labored hard, being extremely anxious to succeed, both from a desire

to please my master, and to show Adam Taydem that my scheme was not

such a visionary one as he incessantly pronounced it. One hand could

manage three cribs. I took charge of the forward three, and commenced

poling down the creek. In due time we entered the first bayou, and

finally reached our destination in a shorter period of time than I had

anticipated.

The arrival of the raft at Lamourie created a sensation, while Mr.

Ford loaded me with commendations. On all sides I heard Ford's Platt

pronounced the "smartest nigger in the Pine Woods"--in fact I was the

Fulton of Indian Creek. I was not insensible to the praise bestowed

upon me, and enjoyed, especially, my triumph over Taydem, whose

half-malicious ridicule had stung my pride. From this time the entire

control of bringing the lumber to Lamourie was placed in my hands

until the contract was fulfilled.

Indian Creek, in its whole length, flows through a magnificent

forest. There dwells on its shore a tribe of Indians, a remnant of

the Chickasaws or Chickopees, if I remember rightly. They live in

simple huts, ten or twelve feet square, constructed of pine poles

and covered with bark. They subsist principally on the flesh of the

deer, the coon, and opossum, all of which are plenty in these woods.

Sometimes they exchange venison for a little corn and whisky with

the planters on the bayous. Their usual dress is buckskin breeches

and calico hunting shirts of fantastic colors, buttoned from belt to

chin. They wear brass rings on their wrists, and in their ears and

noses. The dress of the squaws is very similar. They are fond of dogs

and horses--owning many of the latter, of a small, tough breed--and

are skillful riders. Their bridles, girths and saddles were made

of raw skins of animals; their stirrups of a certain kind of wood.

Mounted astride their ponies, men and women, I have seen them dash

out into the woods at the utmost of their speed, following narrow

winding paths, and dodging trees, in a manner that eclipsed the most

miraculous feats of civilized equestrianism. Circling away in various

directions, the forest echoing and re-echoing with their whoops, they

would presently return at the same dashing, headlong speed with which

they started. Their village was on Indian Creek, known as Indian

Castle, but their range extended to the Sabine River. Occasionally

a tribe from Texas would come over on a visit, and then there was

indeed a carnival in the "Great Pine Woods." Chief of the tribe was

Cascalla; second in rank, John Baltese, his son-in-law; with both of

whom, as with many others of the tribe, I became acquainted during

my frequent voyages down the creek with rafts. Sam and myself would

often visit them when the day's task was done. They were obedient to

the chief; the word of Cascalla was their law. They were a rude but

harmless people, and enjoyed their wild mode of life. They had little

fancy for the open country, the cleared lands on the shores of the

bayous, but preferred to hide themselves within the shadows of the

forest. They worshiped the Great Spirit, loved whisky, and were happy.

On one occasion I was present at a dance, when a roving herd from

Texas had encamped in their village. The entire carcass of a deer was

roasting before a large fire, which threw its light a long distance

among the trees under which they were assembled. When they had formed

in a ring, men and squaws alternately, a sort of Indian fiddle set up

an indescribable tune. It was a continuous, melancholy kind of wavy

sound, with the slightest possible variation. At the first note, if

indeed there was more than one note in the whole tune, they circled

around, trotting after each other, and giving utterance to a guttural,

sing-song noise, equally as nondescript as the music of the fiddle.

At the end of the third circuit, they would stop suddenly, whoop as

if their lungs would crack, then break from the ring, forming in

couples, man and squaw, each jumping backwards as far as possible from

the other, then forwards--which graceful feat having been twice or

thrice accomplished, they would form in a ring, and go trotting round

again. The best dancer appeared to be considered the one who could

whoop the loudest, jump the farthest, and utter the most excruciating

noise. At intervals, one or more would leave the dancing circle, and

going to the fire, cut from the roasting carcass a slice of venison.

In a hole, shaped like a mortar, cut in the trunk of a fallen tree,

they pounded corn with a wooden pestle, and of the meal made cake.

Alternately they danced and ate. Thus were the visitors from Texas

entertained by the dusky sons and daughters of the Chicopees, and such

is a description, as I saw it, of an Indian ball in the Pine Woods of

Avoyelles.

In the autumn, I left the mills, and was employed at the opening.

One day the mistress was urging Ford to procure a loom, in order

that Sally might commence weaving cloth for the winter garments of

the slaves. He could not imagine where one was to be found, when

I suggested that the easiest way to get one would be to make it,

informing him at the same time, that I was a sort of "Jack at all

trades," and would attempt it, with his permission. It was granted

very readily, and I was allowed to go to a neighboring planter's

to inspect one before commencing the undertaking. At length it was

finished and pronounced by Sally to be perfect. She could easily

weave her task of fourteen yards, milk the cows, and have leisure time

besides each day. It worked so well, I was continued in the employment

of making looms, which were taken down to the plantation on the bayou.

At this time one John M. Tibeats, a carpenter, came to the opening to

do some work on master's house. I was directed to quit the looms and

assist him. For two weeks I was in his company, planning and matching

boards for ceiling, a plastered room being a rare thing in the parish

of Avoyelles.

John M. Tibeats was the opposite of Ford in all respects. He was

a small, crabbed, quick-tempered, spiteful man. He had no fixed

residence that I ever heard of, but passed from one plantation to

another, wherever he could find employment. He was without standing

in the community, not esteemed by white men, nor even respected by

slaves. He was ignorant, withal, and of a revengeful disposition. He

left the parish long before I did, and I know not whether he is at

present alive or dead. Certain it is, it was a most unlucky day for

me that brought us together. During my residence with Master Ford

I had seen only the bright side of slavery. His was no heavy hand

crushing us to the earth. _He_ pointed upwards, and with benign and

cheering words addressed us as his fellow-mortals, accountable, like

himself, to the Maker of us all. I think of him with affection, and

had my family been with me, could have borne his gentle servitude,

without murmuring, all my days. But clouds were gathering in the

horizon--forerunners of a pitiless storm that was soon to break over

me. I was doomed to endure such bitter trials as the poor slave only

knows, and to lead no more the comparatively happy life which I had

led in the "Great Pine Woods."