Chapter: 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."

 The steamboat Rodolph begins its trek up the Mississippi to the Red River. Solomon's new owner is William Ford, who resides in the Great Pine Woods in the parish of Avoyelles in the heart of Louisiana. He is a minister, and Solomon asserts that "there never was a more kind, noble, candid, Christian man than William Ford". All the same, Ford is a product of his time and thus sees things in the same light as those who brought him up. He treats his slaves well, though, and is a model master. The river passage takes a couple of days; Solomon almost tells Ford the truth about himself, but he decides not to. In retrospect, he thinks it may have helped, but it was not worth the risk. His identity would have consigned him to the remote depths of slavery, and he could have been taken into Texas or over the border. When their time on the steamship is over, the only way to reach the plantation is to walk. Ford, Solomon, Eliza, and Harry begin their trek on an extremely hot day. Ford, who rides his horse, is solicitous of their condition, but it is still very arduous. The land is low and marshy. There are numerous trees and wild cattle all around. The four stop at the summer residence of Mr. Martin, a rich planter who stays here during the summer season due to the shade and cooler temperatures. Ford dines with Martin and the slaves eat in the kitchen. They traverse five more miles; as the sun begins to sink, they arrive at Ford's plantation. The house is large and surrounded by woods, and Solomon finds it lonely but pleasant. He meets a slave named Rose, another one named Sally, and a teenager named John. Harry and Solomon sleep, and in the morning they meet Rose's husband, Walton. At this time, Ford is a wealthy man. He has a lumbering establishment on Indian Creek, this seat in Pine Woods, and, in his wife's name, a plantation on Bayou Boeuf. Harry and Solomon work throughout the summer at Indian Creek, piling lumber and chopping logs. Every Sunday they have Sabbath and Master Ford reads to them from the Bible. Another of Ford's slaves, Sam, becomes very spiritual that summer. Some white men see that Ford has given Sam a Bible and criticize him for that, but Solomon writes that those who treat their slaves leniently get more labor out of them. Solomon suggests to Ford that he may be able to reduce the shipping costs of lumber if they use the river and rafts. His own experience is critical to this, and he works hard to build a raft and navigate it to Lamourie. This creates a sensation, and people throughout the Pine Woods laud his intelligence. He is in charge of the project until its culmination. Indian Creek flows through an incredible forest, and a tribe of Native Americans still resides on its shores. They host tribes from elsewhere and once Solomon was present at a great dance where the music was melancholy and mesmerizing. One day, Mistress Ford asks Ford to buy a loom so Sally can weave cloth for the winter garments of slaves; Ford offers that he can build a loom. It is finished and works perfectly, and he continues to make more. A carpenter named John M. Tibeats arrives to do work for Ford, and Solomon is instructed to leave off his looms and assist Tibeats for two weeks. To his dismay, Tibeats is the complete opposite of Ford. He is ignorant, vengeful, quick-tempered, and disliked by slaves and white men. He reveals to Solomon the real, dark side of slavery, as opposed to the benignity of Ford. Clouds are gathering on the horizon for Solomon, and he is "doomed to endure such bitter trials as only the poor slave knows"

