My Southern Home: Or, the South and Its People. William Wells Brown

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СКАЧАТЬ coat. Drat dat nigger! Ef he ever comes here agin, I’ll pull out every toof he’s got in his head—dat I will.”

CHAPTER IV.

       Table of Contents

      During the palmy days of the South, forty years ago, if there was one class more thoroughly despised than another, by the high-born, well-educated Southerner, it was the slave-trader who made his money by dealing in human cattle. A large number of the slave-traders were men of the North or free States, generally from the lower order, who, getting a little money by their own hard toil, invested it in slaves purchased in Virginia, Maryland, or Kentucky, and sold them in the cotton, sugar, or rice-growing States. And yet the high-bred planter, through mismanagement, or other causes, was compelled to sell his slaves, or some of them, at auction, or to let the “soul-buyer” have them.

      Dr. Gaines’ financial affairs being in an unfavorable condition, he yielded to the offers of a noted St. Louis trader by the name of Walker. This man was the terror of the whole South-west amongst the black population, bond and free—for it was not unfrequently that even free colored persons were kidnapped and carried to the far South and sold. Walker had no conscientious scruples, for money was his God, and he worshipped at no other altar.

      An uncouth, ill-bred, hard-hearted man, with no education, Walker had started at St. Louis as a dray-driver, and ended as a wealthy slave-trader. The day was set for this man to come and purchase his stock, on which occasion, Mrs. Gaines absented herself from the place; and even the Doctor, although alone, felt deeply the humiliation. For myself, I sat and bit my lips with anger, as the vulgar trader said to the faithful man—

      “Well, my boy, what’s your name?”

      Sam. “Sam, sir, is my name.”

      Walk. “How old are you, Sam?”

      Sam. “Ef I live to see next corn plantin’ time I’ll be twenty-seven, or thirty, or thirty-five—I don’t know which, sir.”

      Walk. “Ha, ha, ha! Well, Doctor, this is rather a green boy. Well, mer feller, are you sound?”

      Sam. “Yes, sir, I spec I is.”

      Walk. “Open your mouth and let me see your teeth. I allers judge a nigger’s age by his teeth, same as I dose a hoss. Ah! pretty good set of grinders. Have you got a good appetite?”

      Sam. “Yes, sir.”

      Walk. “Can you eat your allowance?”

      Sam. “Yes, sir, when I can get it.”

      Walk. “Get out on the floor and dance; I want to see if you are supple.”

      Sam. “I don’t like to dance; I is got religion.”

      Walk. “Oh, ho! you’ve got religion, have you? That’s so much the better. I likes to deal in the gospel. I think he’ll suit me. Now, mer gal, what’s your name?”

      Sally. “I is Big Sally, sir.”

      Walk. “How old are you, Sally?”

      Sally. “I don’t know, sir; but I heard once dat I was born at sweet pertater diggin’ time.”

      Walk. “Ha, ha, ha! Don’t you know how old you are? Do you know who made you?”

      Sally. “I hev heard who it was in de Bible dat made me, but I dun forget de gentman’s name.”

      Walk. “Ha, ha, ha! Well, Doctor, this is the greenest lot of niggers I’ve seen for some time.”

      The last remark struck the Doctor deeply, for he had just taken Sally for debt, and, therefore, he was not responsible for her ignorance. And he frankly told him so.

      “This is an unpleasant business for me, Mr. Walker,” said the Doctor, “but you may have Sam for $1,000, and Sally for $900. They are worth all I ask for them. I never banter, Mr. Walker. There they are; you can take them at that price, or let them alone, just as you please.”

      Walk. “Well, Doctor, I reckon I’ll take ’em; but it’s all they are worth. I’ll put the handcuffs on ’em, and then I’ll pay you. I likes to go accordin’ to Scripter. Scripter says ef eatin’ meat will offend your brother, you must quit it; and I say ef leavin’ your slaves without the handcuffs will make ’em run away, you must put the handcuffs on ’em. Now, Sam, don’t you and Sally cry. I am of a tender heart, and it allers makes me feel bad to see people cryin’. Don’t cry, and the first place I get to, I’ll buy each of you a great big ginger cake—that I will.”

      And with the last remark the trader took from a small satchel two pairs of handcuffs, putting them on, and with a laugh said: “Now, you look better with the ornaments on.”

      Just then, the Doctor remarked—“There comes Mr. Pinchen.” Walker, looking out and seeing the man of God, said: “It is Mr. Pinchen, as I live; jest the very man I wants to see.” And as the reverend gentleman entered, the trader grasped his hand, saying: “Why, how do you do, Mr. Pinchen? What in the name of Jehu brings you down here to Muddy Creek? Any camp-meetins, revival meetins, death-bed scenes, or anything else in your line going on down here? How is religion prosperin’ now, Mr. Pinchen? I always like to hear about religion.”

      Mr. Pin. “Well, Mr. Walker, the Lord’s work is in good condition everywhere now. I tell you, Mr. Walker, I’ve been in the gospel ministry these thirteen years, and I am satisfied that the heart of man is full of sin and desperately wicked. This is a wicked world, Mr. Walker, a wicked world, and we ought all of us to have religion. Religion is a good thing to live by, and we all want it when we die. Yes, sir, when the great trumpet blows, we ought to be ready. And a man in your business of buying and selling slaves needs religion more than anybody else, for it makes you treat your people as you should. Now, there is Mr. Haskins—he is a slave-trader, like yourself. Well, I converted him. Before he got religion, he was one of the worst men to his niggers I ever saw; his heart was as hard as stone. But religion has made his heart as soft as a piece of cotton. Before I converted him he would sell husbands from their wives, and seem to take delight in it; but now he won’t sell a man from his wife, if he can get any one to buy both of them together. I tell you, sir, religion has done a wonderful work for him.”

      REV. HENRY PINCHEN.

      Walk. “I know, Mr. Pinchen, that I ought to have religion, and I feel that I am a great sinner; and whenever I get with good pious people like you and the Doctor, it always makes me feel that I am a desperate sinner. I feel it the more, because I’ve got a religious turn of mind. I know that I would be happier with religion, and the first spare time I get, I am going to try to get it. I’ll go to a protracted meeting, and I won’t stop till I get religion.”

      The departure of the trader with his property left a sadness even amongst the white members of the family, and special sympathy was felt for Hannah for the loss of her husband by the sale. However, Mrs. Gaines took it coolly, for as Sam was a field hand, she had often said she wanted her to have one of the house servants, and as Cato was without a wife, this seemed to favor СКАЧАТЬ