CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE FIRST DAY OF SERVITUDE.
Thus began my captivity. Thus I began to sit beside the waters ofBabylon, more wretched than the daughters of Zion, because they wepttogether, while I wept alone. I looked for no release or escapeuntil the Lord should mercifully please to call me away by openingthe Gate of Death. For even if I were released--if by living outthe ten years of servitude I could claim my freedom, of what usewould it be to me? Whither could I fly? where hide myself? Yet youshall hear, if you will read, how a way, terrible at first and fullof peril, was unexpectedly opened, and in what strange manner waswrought my deliverance.
We arrived at our new master's estate--which was, as I have said,about seven miles from the port--towards sundown. We were marched(rather, driven) to a kind of village, consisting of a double rowof huts or cottages, forming a broad street, in the middle of whichthere were planted a large number of the fruit-trees named herebonannows (they are a kind of plantain). The green fruit was hangingin clusters, as yet unripe; but the leaves, which are also thebranches, being for the most part blown into long shreds, or rags,by the wind, had an untidy appearance. The cottages looked more likepigsties for size and shape; they were built of sticks, withs, andplantain-leaves both for sides and for roof. Chimneys had they none,nor windows; some of them had no door, but an opening only. Thus arehoused the servants and slaves of a plantation. The furniture withinis such as the occupants contrive. Sometimes there is a hammock or apallet with grass mats and rugs; there are some simple platters andbasins. In each hut there are two, three, or four occupants.
Here let me in brief make an end of describing the buildings onthis estate, which were, I suppose, like those of every other. Ifyou were to draw a great square, in which to lay down or figure thebuildings, you would have in one corner the street or village ofthe people; next to the village lies the great pond which servesfor drinking-water as well as for washing. The negroes are fondof swimming and bathing in it, and they say that the water is notfouled thereby, which I cannot understand. In the opposite corneryou must place the Ingenio, or house where the sugar-canes arebrought to be crushed and ground, and the sugar is made. Thereare all kinds of machines, with great wheels, small wheels, cogs,gutters for running the juice, and contrivances which I cannotremember. Some of the Ingenios are worked by a windmill, others byhorses and assinegoes. There is in every one a still where they makethat fiery spirit which they call "kill-devil." Near the Ingenioare the stables, where there are horses, oxen, assinegoes, and thecurious beast spoken of in Holy Writ called the camel. It hath beenbrought here from Africa, and is much used for carrying the sugar.The open space around the Ingenio is generally covered and strewedwith trash, which is the crushed stalk of the cane. It always givesforth a sour smell (as if fermenting), which I cannot think to bewholesome. In the fourth corner is the planter's house. Consideringthat these people sometimes grow so rich that they come home and buygreat estates, it is wonderful that they should consent to live inhouses so mean and paltry. They are of wood, with roofs so low thatone can hardly stand upright in them; and the people are so afraidof the cool wind which blows from the east that they have neitherdoors nor windows on that side; but will have them all towards thewest, whence cometh the chief heat of the sun--namely, the afternoonheat. Their furniture is rude, and they have neither tapestry, norwainscoted walls, nor any kind of ornament. Yet they live alwaysin the greatest luxury, eating and drinking of the best. Some ofthe houses--my master's among them--have an open verandah (as theycall it: in Somersetshire we should call it a linney) running roundthree sides of the house, with coarse canvas curtains which can belet down so as to keep out the sun, or drawn up to admit the air.But their way of living--though they eat and drink of the best--isrude, even compared with that of our farmers at home; and a thrivingtradesman, say, of Taunton, would scorn to live in such a houseas contenteth a wealthy planter of Barbadoes. Behind the house isalways a spacious garden, in which grow all kinds of fruits andvegetables, and all round the buildings on every side stretched thebroad fields of sugar-canes, which, when they are in their flower orblossom of grey and silver, wave in the wind more beautifully thaneven a field of barley in England.
On the approach of our party and hearing the voices of theoverseers, a gentlewoman (so, at least, she seemed) came out of thehouse and stood upon the verandah, shading her eyes and looking atthe gang of wretches. She was dressed splendidly in a silken gownand flowered petticoat, as if she was a very great lady, indeed;over her head lay a kerchief of rich black lace; round her neck wasa gold chain; when she slowly descended the steps of the verandahand walked towards us I observed that she was of a darker skin thanit is customary to find at home; it was, indeed, somewhat like theskin of the gipsy people; her features were straight and regular;her hair was quite black; her eyes were also black, and large,shaped like almonds. On her wrists were heavy gold bracelets, andher fingers were loaded with rings. She seemed about thirty yearsof age. She was a woman of tall and fine presence, and she stoodand moved as if she was a queen. She presently came forth from theverandah and walked across the yard towards us.
'Let me look at them--your new batch,' she said, speaking languidly,and with an accent somewhat foreign. 'How many are there? Where dothey come from? Who is this one, for instance?' She took the girlnamed Deb by the chin, and looked at her as if she were some animalto be sold in the market. 'A stout wench, truly. What was she overthere?'
The overseer read the name and the crimes of the prisoner. Madam(this was the only name by which I knew her) pushed her awaydisdainfully.
'Well,' she said, 'she will find companions enough here. I hope shewill work without the whip. Hark ye, girl,' she added with, I think,kindly intent, 'it goes still to my heart when I hear that the womenhave been trounced; but the work must be done. Remember that! Andwho are those--and those?' She pointed with contempt to the poorcreatures covered with dirt and dust, and in the ragged, miserableclothes they had worn all the voyage. 'Street sweepings; rogues andthieves all. Let them know,' she said grandly, 'what awaits thosewho skulk and those who thieve. And whom have we here?'--she turnedto me--'Is this some fine city madam fresh from Bridewell?'
'This prisoner,' said the overseer, 'is described as a rebel in thelate Monmouth rising.'
'A rebel? Truly?' she asked with curiosity. 'Were Monmouth'ssoldiers women? We heard by the last ship something of this. Madam,I know not why you must needs become a rebel; but this, look you, isno place for gentlewomen to sit down and fold their arms.'
'Madam,' I replied, 'I look for nothing less than to work, being nowa convict (though I was never tried) and condemned--I know not bywhom--to transportation in his Majesty's Plantations.'
'Let me look at your hands,' she said sharply. 'Why, of what useare these little fingers? They have never done any work. And yourface--prithee, turn back your hood.' I obeyed, and her eyes suddenlysoftened. Indeed, I looked not for this sign of compassion, and myown tears began to flow. ''Tis a shame!' she cried. ''Tis a burningshame to send so young a woman--and a gentlewoman, and one with sucha face--to the Plantations! Have they no bowels? Child, who put theeaboard the ship?'
'I was brought on board by one Mr. Penne, who deceived me, promisingthat I should be taken to New England, where I have cousins.'
'We will speak of this presently. Meantime--since we must by the lawfind you some work to do--can you sew?'
'Yes, Madam, I can perform any kind of needlework, from plain sewingto embroidery.'
'What mean they,' she cried again, 'by sending a helpless girl alonewith such a crew? The very Spaniards of whom they talk so much wouldblush for such barbarity. Well, they would send her to a conventwhere the good Nuns would treat her kindly. Madam, or Miss, thou artbought, and the master may not, by law, release you. But there is away of which we will talk presently. Meanwhile, thou canst sit inthe sewing-room, where we may find thee work.'
I thanked her. She would have said more; but there came forthfrom the house, with staggering
step, the man who had bought us.He had now put off his wig and his scarlet coat, and wore a whitedressing-gown and a linen nightcap. He had in his hand a whip, whichhe cracked as he walked.
'Child,' said Madam, quickly, 'pull down your hood. Hide your face.He hath been drinking, and at such times he is dangerous. Let himnever set eyes upon thee save when he is sober.'
He came rolling and staggering, and yet not so drunk but he couldspeak, though his voice was thick.
'Oho!' he cried. 'Here are the new servants. Stand up, every man andwoman. Stand up, I say!' Here he cracked his whip, and they obeyed,trembling. But Madam placed herself in front of me. 'Let me lookat ye.' He walked along the line, calling the unhappy creaturesvile and foul names. O shame! thus to mock their misery! 'What!' hecried. 'You think you have come to a country where there is nothingto do but lie on your backs and eat turtle and drink mobbie? What!You shall find out your mistake.' Here he cracked his whip again.'You shall work all day in the field, not because you like it, butbecause you must. For your food, it shall be loblollie, and foryour drink, water from the pond. What, I say! Those who skulk shalllearn that the Newgate "cat" is tender compared with her brother ofBarbadoes. Tremble, therefore, ye devils all; tremble!'
They trembled visibly. All were now subdued. Those of them whoswaggered--the dare-devil reckless blades--when first we sailed,were now transformed into cowardly, trembling wretches, allhalf-starved, and some reduced with fevers, with no more spirit leftthan enabled them still to curse and swear. The feeblest of mortals,the lowest of human wretches, has still left so much strength andwill that he can sink his immortal soul lower still--a terriblepower, truly!
Then Madam drew me aside gently, and led me to a place like a barn,where many women, white and black, sat sewing, and a great quantityof little black babies and naked children played about under theircharge. The white women were sad and silent; the blacks, I saw withsurprise, were all chattering and laughing. The negro is happy, ifhe have enough to eat and drink, whether he be slave or free. Madamsat down upon a bench, and caused me to sit beside her.
'Tell me,' she said, kindly, 'what this means. When did women beginto rebel? If men are such fools as to go forth and fight, let them;but for women'----
'Indeed,' I told her, 'I did not fight.'
Then nothing would do but I must tell her all, from thebeginning--my name, my family, and my history. But I told hernothing about my marriage.
'So,' she said, 'you have lost father, mother, brothers, lover,and friends by this pretty business. And all because they will notsuffer the King to worship in his own way. Well, 'tis hard for you.To be plain, it may be harder than you think, or I can help. Youhave been bought for sixty pounds, and that not for any profit thatyour work will bring to the estate, because such as you are but aloss and a burden; but only in the hope that your friends will pay agreat sum for ransom.'
'Madam, I have indeed no friends left who can do this for me.'
'If so, it is indeed unfortunate. For presently the master will lookfor letters on your behalf, and if none come I know not what hemay threaten, or what he may do. But think--try to find some one.Consider, your lot here must be hard at best; whereas, if you arereleased, you can live where you please; you may even marry whomyou please, because beautiful young gentlewomen like yourself arescarce indeed in Barbadoes. 'Tis Christian charity to set you free.Remember, Child, that money will do here what I suppose it will doanywhere--all are slaves to money. You have six months before you inwhich to write to your friends and to receive an answer. If in thattime nothing comes, I tell thee again, Child, that I know not whatwill happen. As for the life in the fields, it would kill thee in aweek.'
'Perhaps, if the Lord so wills,' I replied helplessly, 'that maybe best. Friends have I none now, nor any whom I could ask forhelp--save the Lord alone. I will ask for work in the fields.'
'Perhaps he may forget thee,' she said--meaning the master. 'But no;a man who hath once seen thy face will never forget thee. My dear,he told me when he came home that he had bought a woman whose beautywould set the island in flames. Pray heaven he come not near theewhen he is in liquor. Hide that face, Child. Hide that face. Lethim never see thee. Oh! there are dangers worse than labour in thefields--worse than whip of overseer!' She sprang to her feet, andclasped her hands. 'You talk of the Lord's will! What hath the Lordto do with this place? Here is nothing but debauchery and drinking,cruelty and greed. Why have they sent here a woman who prays?'
Then she sat down again and took my hand.
'Tender maid,' she said, 'thy face is exactly such as the face of acertain saint--'tis in a picture which hangs in the chapel of theconvent where the good nuns brought me up long ago, before I came tothis place--long ago. Yes, I forget the name of the saint; thou hasther face. She stood, in the picture, surrounded by soldiers who hadred hair, and looked like devils--English devils, the nuns said.Her eyes were raised to heaven, and she prayed. But what was doneunto her I know not, because there was no other picture. Now shesits upon a throne in the presence of the Mother of God.'
The tears stood in her great black eyes--I take it that she wasthinking of the days when she was young.
'Well, we must keep thee out of his way. While he is sober helistens to reason, and thinks continually upon his estate and hisgains. When he is drunk no one can hold him, and reason is lost onhim.'
She presently brought me a manchet of white bread and a glass ofMadeira wine, and then told me that she would give me the bestcottage that the estate possessed, and, for my better protection,another woman to share it with me. I thanked her again, and askedthat I might have the girl called Deb, which she readily granted.
And so my first day of servitude ended in thus happily finding aprotector. As for the cottage, it was a poor thing; but it hada door, and a window with a shutter. The furniture was a palletwith two thick rugs, and nothing more. My condition was desperate,indeed; but yet, had I considered, I had been, so far, mostmercifully protected. I was shipped as a convict (it is true) bya treacherous villain; but on the ship I found a compassionatecaptain, who saved me from the company among whom I must otherwisehave dwelt. I was sold to a drunken and greedy planter; but I founda compassionate woman who promised to do what she could; and I hadfor my companion the woman who had become a most faithful maid tome upon the voyage, and who still continued in her fidelity and herlove. Greater mercies yet--and also greater troubles--were in store,as you shall see.