Chapter: THE HOT SUN--YET BOUND--THE CORDS SINK INTO MY FLESH--CHAPIN'S
  UNEASINESS--SPECULATION--RACHEL, AND HER CUP OF WATER--SUFFERING
  INCREASES--THE HAPPINESS OF SLAVERY--ARRIVAL OF FORD--HE CUTS THE
  CORDS WHICH BIND ME, AND TAKES THE ROPE FROM MY NECK--MISERY--THE
  GATHERING OF THE SLAVES IN ELIZA'S CABIN--THEIR KINDNESS--RACHEL
  REPEATS THE OCCURRENCES OF THE DAY--LAWSON ENTERTAINS HIS COMPANIONS
  WITH AN ACCOUNT OF HIS RIDE--CHAPIN'S APPREHENSIONS OF TIBEATS--HIRED
  TO PETER TANNER--PETER EXPOUNDS THE SCRIPTURES--DESCRIPTION OF THE
  STOCKS.


As the sun approached the meridian that day it became insufferably
warm. Its hot rays scorched the ground. The earth almost blistered
the foot that stood upon it. I was without coat or hat, standing
bare-headed, exposed to its burning blaze. Great drops of perspiration
rolled down my face, drenching the scanty apparel wherewith I was
clothed. Over the fence, a very little way off, the peach trees cast
their cool, delicious shadows on the grass. I would gladly have
given a long year of service to have been enabled to exchange the
heated oven, as it were, wherein I stood, for a seat beneath their
branches. But I was yet bound, the rope still dangling from my neck,
and standing in the same tracks where Tibeats and his comrades left
me. I could not move an inch, so firmly had I been bound. To have been
enabled to lean against the weaving house would have been a luxury
indeed. But it was far beyond my reach, though distant less than
twenty feet. I wanted to lie down, but knew I could not rise again.
The ground was so parched and boiling hot I was aware it would but
add to the discomfort of my situation. If I could have only moved my
position, however slightly, it would have been relief unspeakable.
But the hot rays of a southern sun, beating all the long summer day
on my bare head, produced not half the suffering I experienced from
my aching limbs. My wrists and ankles, and the cords of my legs and
arms began to swell, burying the rope that bound them into the swollen
flesh.

All day Chapin walked back and forth upon the stoop, but not once
approached me. He appeared to be in a state of great uneasiness,
looking first towards me, and then up the road, as if expecting some
arrival every moment. He did not go to the field, as was his custom.
It was evident from his manner that he supposed Tibeats would return
with more and better armed assistance, perhaps, to renew the quarrel,
and it was equally evident he had prepared his mind to defend my life
at whatever hazard. Why he did not relieve me--why he suffered me to
remain in agony the whole weary day, I never knew. It was not for
want of sympathy, I am certain. Perhaps he wished Ford to see the
rope about my neck, and the brutal manner in which I had been bound;
perhaps his interference with another's property in which he had no
legal interest might have been a trespass, which would have subjected
him to the penalty of the law. Why Tibeats was all day absent was
another mystery I never could divine. He knew well enough that Chapin
would not harm him unless he persisted in his design against me.
Lawson told me afterwards, that, as he passed the plantation of John
David Cheney, he saw the three, and that they turned and looked after
him as he flew by. I think his supposition was, that Lawson had been
sent out by Overseer Chapin to arouse the neighboring planters, and to
call on them to come to his assistance. He, therefore, undoubtedly,
acted on the principle, that "discretion is the better part of valor,"
and kept away.

But whatever motive may have governed the cowardly and malignant
tyrant, it is of no importance. There I still stood in the noon-tide
sun, groaning with pain. From long before daylight I had not eaten a
morsel. I was growing faint from pain, and thirst, and hunger. Once
only, in the very hottest portion of the day, Rachel, half fearful she
was acting contrary to the overseer's wishes, ventured to me, and held
a cup of water to my lips. The humble creature never knew, nor could
she comprehend if she had heard them, the blessings I invoked upon
her, for that balmy draught. She could only say, "Oh, Platt, how I do
pity you," and then hastened back to her labors in the kitchen.

Never did the sun move so slowly through the heavens--never did it
shower down such fervent and fiery rays, as it did that day. At
least, so it appeared to me. What my meditations were--the innumerable
thoughts that thronged through my distracted brain--I will not attempt
to give expression to. Suffice it to say, during the whole long day I
came not to the conclusion, even once, that the southern slave, fed,
clothed, whipped and protected by his master, is happier than the
free colored citizen of the North. To that conclusion I have never
since arrived. There are many, however, even in the Northern States,
benevolent and well-disposed men, who will pronounce my opinion
erroneous, and gravely proceed to substantiate the assertion with an
argument. Alas! they have never drunk, as I have, from the bitter cup
of slavery. Just at sunset my heart leaped with unbounded joy, as Ford
came riding into the yard, his horse covered with foam. Chapin met him
at the door, and after conversing a short time, he walked directly to
me.

"Poor Platt, you are in a bad state," was the only expression that
escaped his lips.

"Thank God!" said I, "thank God, Master Ford, that you have come at
last."

Drawing a knife from his pocket, he indignantly cut the cord from
my wrists, arms, and ankles, and slipped the noose from my neck.
I attempted to walk, but staggered like a drunken man, and fell
partially to the ground.

Ford returned immediately to the house, leaving me alone again. As
he reached the piazza, Tibeats and his two friends rode up. A long
dialogue followed. I could hear the sound of their voices, the mild
tones of Ford mingling with the angry accents of Tibeats, but was
unable to distinguish what was said. Finally the three departed again,
apparently not well pleased.

I endeavored to raise the hammer, thinking to show Ford how willing I
was to work, by proceeding with my labors on the weaving house, but
it fell from my nerveless hand. At dark I crawled into the cabin, and
laid down. I was in great misery--all sore and swollen--the slightest
movement producing excruciating suffering. Soon the hands came in
from the field. Rachel, when she went after Lawson, had told them
what had happened. Eliza and Mary broiled me a piece of bacon, but my
appetite was gone. Then they scorched some corn meal and made coffee.
It was all that I could take. Eliza consoled me and was very kind.
It was not long before the cabin was full of slaves. They gathered
round me, asking many questions about the difficulty with Tibeats in
the morning--and the particulars of all the occurrences of the day.
Then Rachel came in, and in her simple language, repeated it over
again--dwelling emphatically on the kick that sent Tibeats rolling
over on the ground--whereupon there was a general titter throughout
the crowd. Then she described how Chapin walked out with his pistols
and rescued me, and how Master Ford cut the ropes with his knife, just
as if he was mad.

By this time Lawson had returned. He had to regale them with an
account of his trip to the Pine Woods--how the brown mule bore him
faster than a "streak o'lightnin"--how he astonished everybody as he
flew along--how Master Ford started right away--how he said Platt was
a good nigger, and they shouldn't kill him, concluding with pretty
strong intimations that there was not another human being in the wide
world, who could have created such a universal sensation on the road,
or performed such a marvelous John Gilpin feat, as he had done that
day on the brown mule.

The kind creatures loaded me with the expression of their
sympathy--saying, Tibeats was a hard, cruel man, and hoping "Massa
Ford" would get me back again. In this manner they passed the time,
discussing, chatting, talking over and over again the exciting affair,
until suddenly Chapin presented himself at the cabin door and called
me.

"Platt," said he, "you will sleep on the floor in the great house
to-night; bring your blanket with you."

I arose as quickly as I was able, took my blanket in my hand, and
followed him. On the way he informed me that he should not wonder
if Tibeats was back again before morning--that he intended to kill
me--and that he did not mean he should do it without witnesses. Had he
stabbed me to the heart in the presence of a hundred slaves, not one
of them, by the laws of Louisiana, could have given evidence against
him. I laid down on the floor in the "great house"--the first and
the last time such a sumptuous resting place was granted me during
my twelve years of bondage--and tried to sleep. Near midnight the
dog began to bark. Chapin arose, looked from the window, but could
discover nothing. At length the dog was quiet. As he returned to his
room, he said,

"I believe, Platt, that scoundrel is skulking about the premises
somewhere. If the dog barks again, and I am sleeping, wake me."

I promised to do so. After the lapse of an hour or more, the dog
re-commenced his clamor, running towards the gate, then back again,
all the while barking furiously.

Chapin was out of bed without waiting to be called. On this occasion,
he stepped forth upon the piazza, and remained standing there a
considerable length of time. Nothing, however, was to be seen, and
the dog returned to his kennel. We were not disturbed again during
the night. The excessive pain that I suffered, and the dread of
some impending danger, prevented any rest whatever. Whether or not
Tibeats did actually return to the plantation that night, seeking an
opportunity to wreak his vengeance upon me, is a secret known only
to himself, perhaps. I thought then, however, and have the strong
impression still, that he was there. At all events, he had the
disposition of an assassin--cowering before a brave man's words, but
ready to strike his helpless or unsuspecting victim in the back, as I
had reason afterwards to know.

At daylight in the morning, I arose, sore and weary, having rested
little. Nevertheless, after partaking breakfast, which Mary and Eliza
had prepared for me in the cabin, I proceeded to the weaving house
and commenced the labors of another day. It was Chapin's practice, as
it is the practice of overseers generally, immediately on arising,
to bestride his horse, always saddled and bridled and ready for
him--the particular business of some slave--and ride into the field.
This morning, on the contrary, he came to the weaving house, asking
if I had seen anything of Tibeats yet. Replying in the negative, he
remarked there was something not right about the fellow--there was bad
blood in him--that I must keep a sharp watch of him, or he would do me
wrong some day when I least expected it.

While he was yet speaking, Tibeats rode in, hitched his horse, and
entered the house. I had little fear of him while Ford and Chapin were
at hand, but they could not be near me always.

Oh! how heavily the weight of slavery pressed upon me then. I must
toil day after day, endure abuse and taunts and scoffs, sleep on
the hard ground, live on the coarsest fare, and not only this, but
live the slave of a blood-seeking wretch, of whom I must stand
henceforth in continued fear and dread. Why had I not died in my young
years--before God had given me children to love and live for? What
unhappiness and suffering and sorrow it would have prevented. I sighed
for liberty; but the bondman's chain was round me, and could not be
shaken off. I could only gaze wistfully towards the North, and think
of the thousands of miles that stretched between me and the soil of
freedom, over which a _black_ freeman may not pass.

Tibeats, in the course of half an hour, walked over to the
weaving-house, looked at me sharply, then returned without saying
anything. Most of the forenoon he sat on the piazza, reading a
newspaper and conversing with Ford. After dinner, the latter left for
the Pine Woods, and it was indeed with regret that I beheld him depart
from the plantation.

Once more during the day Tibeats came to me, gave me some order, and
returned.

During the week the weaving-house was completed--Tibeats in the
meantime making no allusion whatever to the difficulty--when I was
informed he had hired me to Peter Tanner, to work under another
carpenter by the name of Myers. This announcement was received with
gratification, as any place was desirable that would relieve me of his
hateful presence.

Peter Tanner, as the reader has already been informed, lived on the
opposite shore, and was the brother of Mistress Ford. He is one of the
most extensive planters on Bayou Boeuf, and owns a large number of
slaves.

Over I went to Tanner's, joyfully enough. He had heard of my late
difficulties--in fact, I ascertained the flogging of Tibeats was
soon blazoned far and wide. This affair, together with my rafting
experiment, had rendered me somewhat notorious. More than once I
heard it said that Platt Ford, now Platt Tibeats--a slave's name
changes with his change of master--was "a devil of a nigger." But I
was destined to make a still further noise, as will presently be seen,
throughout the little world of Bayou Boeuf.

Peter Tanner endeavored to impress upon me the idea that he was quite
severe, though I could perceive there was a vein of good humor in the
old fellow, after all.

"You're the nigger," he said to me on my arrival--"You're the nigger
that flogged your master, eh? You're the nigger that kicks, and holds
carpenter Tibeats by the leg, and wallops him, are ye? I'd like to see
you hold me by the leg--I should. You're a 'portant character--you're
a great nigger--very remarkable nigger, ain't ye? _I'd_ lash
you--_I'd_ take the tantrums out of ye. Jest take hold of my leg, if
you please. None of your pranks here, my boy, remember _that_. Now
go to work, you _kickin'_ rascal," concluded Peter Tanner, unable to
suppress a half-comical grin at his own wit and sarcasm.

After listening to this salutation, I was taken charge of by Myers,
and labored under his direction for a month, to his and my own
satisfaction.

Like William Ford, his brother-in-law, Tanner was in the habit of
reading the Bible to his slaves on the Sabbath, but in a somewhat
different spirit. He was an impressive commentator on the New
Testament. The first Sunday after my coming to the plantation, he
called them together, and began to read the twelfth chapter of Luke.
When he came to the 47th verse, he looked deliberately around him,
and continued--"And that servant which knew his lord's _will_,"--here
he paused, looking around more deliberately than before, and again
proceeded--"which knew his lord's _will_, and _prepared_ not
himself"--here was another pause--"_prepared_ not himself, neither did
_according_ to his will, shall be beaten with many _stripes_."

"D'ye hear that?" demanded Peter, emphatically. "_Stripes_,"
he repeated, slowly and distinctly, taking off his spectacles,
preparatory to making a few remarks.

"That nigger that don't take care--that don't obey his lord--that's
his master--d'ye see?--that _'ere_ nigger shall be beaten with many
stripes. Now, 'many' signifies a _great_ many--forty, a hundred, a
hundred and fifty lashes. _That's_ Scripter!" and so Peter continued
to elucidate the subject for a great length of time, much to the
edification of his sable audience.

At the conclusion of the exercises, calling up three of his slaves,
Warner, Will and Major, he cried out to me--

"Here, Platt, you held Tibeats by the legs; now I'll see if you can
hold these rascals in the same way, till I get back from meetin'."

Thereupon he ordered them to the stocks--a common thing on plantations
in the Red River country. The stocks are formed of two planks, the
lower one made fast at the ends to two short posts, driven firmly
into the ground. At regular distances half circles are cut in the
upper edge. The other plank is fastened to one of the posts by a
hinge, so that it can be opened or shut down, in the same manner as
the blade of a pocket-knife is shut or opened. In the lower edge of
the upper plank corresponding half circles are also cut, so that when
they close, a row of holes is formed large enough to admit a negro's
leg above the ankle, but not large enough to enable him to draw out
his foot. The other end of the upper plank, opposite the hinge, is
fastened to its post by lock and key. The slave is made to sit upon
the ground, when the uppermost plank is elevated, his legs, just above
the ankles, placed in the sub-half circles, and shutting it down
again, and locking it, he is held secure and fast. Very often the neck
instead of the ankle is enclosed. In this manner they are held during
the operation of whipping.

Warner, Will and Major, according to Tanner's account of them, were
melon-stealing, Sabbath-breaking niggers, and not approving of such
wickedness, he felt it his duty to put them in the stocks. Handing
me the key, himself, Myers, Mistress Tanner and the children entered
the carriage and drove away to church at Cheneyville. When they were
gone, the boys begged me to let them out. I felt sorry to see them
sitting on the hot ground, and remembered my own sufferings in the
sun. Upon their promise to return to the stocks at any moment they
were required to do so, I consented to release them. Grateful for
the lenity shown them, and in order in some measure to repay it, they
could do no less, of course, than pilot me to the melon-patch. Shortly
before Tanner's return, they were in the stocks again. Finally he
drove up, and looking at the boys, said, with a chuckle,--

"Aha! ye havn't been strolling about much to-day, any way. _I'll_
teach you what's what. _I'll_ tire ye of eating water-melons on the
Lord's day, ye Sabbath-breaking niggers."

Peter Tanner prided himself upon his strict religious observances: he
was a deacon in the church.

But I have now reached a point in the progress of my narrative, when
it becomes necessary to turn away from these light descriptions, to
the more grave and weighty matter of the second battle with Master
Tibeats, and the flight through the great Pacoudrie Swamp.

 Solomon remains completely bound in the hot sun. He feels near collapse and his limbs ache, but he cannot move. Chapin never relieves him, but he paces the porch. Perhaps he wanted Ford to see how badly Tibeats had treated Solomon, or perhaps he did not want to interfere more. Rachel comes out once to give Solomon water and tells him she pities him. Finally, Ford comes riding up, and all he says is that Solomon is in a bad state. He cuts his bonds and rushes into the house. Solomon topples over, unable to walk. He sees Tibeats and his two friends approach the house and talk to Ford, only to depart again. Solomon crawls to his cabin at dusk because he cannot work. He is in great misery. The other slaves return from their labors. They listen to Solomon's story and give him food and water. Rachel adds what she saw. Lawson also tells his version of the story. Suddenly, Chapin appears at the door and tells Solomon he will sleep in the floor on the great house tonight. On their walk over, he says that he believes Tibeats will be back before morning to kill Solomon, and if he kills him in front of other slaves, no one could lift a finger against him in court. Solomon lies on the floor and tries to sleep. Around midnight, the dog begins to bark; Chapin looks outside but sees nothing. He tells Solomon that he thinks Tibeats is somewhere skulking around the property, but he is not sure. The dog barks again; Chapin investigates, but there is nothing. The rest of the night is uneventful. The next morning, Solomon sets out to do his day's work. Chapin tells Solomon to be wary, as Tibeats has bad blood in him and he may do him wrong some day. Tibeats rides up at that moment, and Solomon feels a great weariness that this is his life now: he must toil and suffer the slights and dangers of monsters. Would that he had died when he was young. It takes a week to complete the weaving-house, and Solomon learns to his delight that Tibeats has sold him to Peter Tanner to work with another carpenter named Myers. Solomon's reputation has preceded him across the bayou, and Tanner impresses upon him that he is severe with his slaves, though Solomon gleans that he has some good humor. Solomon works for Myers for a month. Tanner has a habit of reading the Bible to his slaves on the Sabbath, and one day he reads that servants who do not do their Lord's will should be beaten with many stripes. He calls up three of his slaves -- Warner, Will, and Major -- and tells them that they are melon-stealing, Sabbath-breaking slaves and must go into the stocks. He orders Solomon to stand watch over them. When the Tanner family goes off to church, the three slaves beg Solomon to let them out. He gives in; they all eat melons, and then the men go back into the stocks when Tanner comes home. This levity is short-lived, though, for Solomon's great conflict with Tibeats looms ahead

