Twelve Years a Slave by Solomon Northup (books to read to get smarter .txt) 📕

steadily in the face. As I approached, he moved backwards with an air of alarm. It was plain he was much affrighted⁠—that he looked upon me as some infernal goblin, just arisen from the bowels of the swamp!

“Where does William Ford live?” I demanded, in no gentle tone.

“He lives seven miles from here,” was the reply.

“Which is the way to his place?” I again demanded, trying to look more fiercely than ever.

“Do you see those pine trees yonder?” he asked, pointing to two, a mile distant, that rose far above their fellows, like a couple of tall sentinels, overlooking the broad expanse of forest.

“I see them,” was the answer.

“At the feet of those pine trees,” he continued, “runs the Texas road. Turn to the left, and it will lead you to William Ford’s.”

Without farther parley, I hastened forward, happy as he was, no doubt, to place the widest possible distance between us. Striking the Texas road, I turned to the left hand, as directed, and soon passed a great fire, where a pile of logs were burning. I went to it, thinking I would dry my clothes; but the gray light of the morning was fast breaking away⁠—some passing white man might observe me; besides, the heat overpowered me with the desire of sleep: so, lingering no longer, I continued my travels, and finally, about eight o’clock, reached the house of Master Ford.

The slaves were all absent from the quarters, at their work. Stepping on to the piazza, I knocked at the door, which was soon opened by Mistress Ford. My appearance was so changed⁠—I was in such a wobegone and forlorn condition, she did not know me. Inquiring if Master Ford was at home, that good man made his appearance, before the question could be answered. I told him of my flight, and all the particulars connected with it. He listened attentively, and when I had concluded, spoke to me kindly and sympathetically, and taking me to the kitchen, called John, and ordered him to prepare me food. I had tasted nothing since daylight the previous morning.

When John had set the meal before me, the madam came out with a bowl of milk, and many little delicious dainties, such as rarely please the palate of a slave. I was hungry, and I was weary, but neither food nor rest afforded half the pleasure as did the blessed voices speaking kindness and consolation. It was the oil and the wine which the Good Samaritan in the “Great Pine Woods” was ready to pour into the wounded spirit of the slave, who came to him, stripped of his raiment and half-dead.

They left me in the cabin, that I might rest. Blessed be sleep! It visiteth all alike, descending as the dews of heaven on the bond and free. Soon it nestled to my bosom, driving away the troubles that oppressed it, and bearing me to that shadowy region, where I saw again the faces, and listened to the voices of my children, who, alas, for aught I knew in my waking hours, had fallen into the arms of that other sleep, from which they never would arouse.

XI

The Mistress’ garden⁠—The crimson and golden fruit⁠—Orange and pomegranate trees⁠—Return to Bayou Boeuf⁠—Master Ford’s remarks on the way⁠—The meeting with Tibeats⁠—His account of the chase⁠—Ford censures his brutality⁠—Arrival at the plantation⁠—Astonishment of the slaves on seeing me⁠—The anticipated flogging⁠—Kentucky John⁠—Mr. Eldret, the planter⁠—Eldret’s Sam⁠—Trip to the “Big Cane Brake”⁠—The tradition of “Sutton’s Field”⁠—Forest trees⁠—Gnats and mosquitos⁠—The arrival of black women in the Big Cane⁠—Lumber women⁠—Sudden appearance of Tibeats⁠—His provoking treatment⁠—Visit to Bayou Boeuf⁠—The slave pass⁠—Southern hospitality⁠—The last of Eliza⁠—Sale to Edwin Epps.

After a long sleep, sometime in the afternoon I awoke, refreshed, but very sore and stiff. Sally came in and talked with me, while John cooked me some dinner. Sally was in great trouble, as well as myself, one of her children being ill, and she feared it could not survive. Dinner over, after walking about the quarters for a while, visiting Sally’s cabin and looking at the sick child, I strolled into the madam’s garden. Though it was a season of the year when the voices of the birds are silent, and the trees are stripped of their summer glories in more frigid climes, yet the whole variety of roses were then blooming there, and the long, luxuriant vines creeping over the frames. The crimson and golden fruit hung half hidden amidst the younger and older blossoms of the peach, the orange, the plum, and the pomegranate; for, in that region of almost perpetual warmth, the leaves are falling and the buds bursting into bloom the whole year long.

I indulged the most grateful feelings towards Master and Mistress Ford, and wishing in some manner to repay their kindness, commenced trimming the vines, and afterwards weeding out the grass from among the orange and pomegranate trees. The latter grows eight or ten feet high, and its fruit, though larger, is similar in appearance to the jelly-flower. It has the luscious flavor of the strawberry. Oranges, peaches, plums, and most other fruits are indigenous to the rich, warm soil of Avoyelles; but the apple, the most common of them all in colder latitudes, is rarely to be seen.

Mistress Ford came out presently, saying it was praiseworthy in me, but I was not in a condition to labor, and might rest myself at the quarters until master should go down to Bayou Boeuf, which would not be that day, and it might not be the next. I said to her⁠—to be sure, I felt bad, and was stiff, and that my foot pained me, the stubs and thorns having so torn it, but thought such exercise would not hurt me, and that it was a great pleasure to work for so good a mistress. Thereupon she returned to the great house, and for three days I was diligent in the garden, cleaning the walks, weeding the flower beds, and pulling