CHAPTER X.

by Solomon Northup

　　CHAPTER X.BETURN TO TIBEATS IMPOSSIBILITY OF PLEASING HIM HE ATTACKS MEWITH A HATCHET THE STRUGGLE OVER THE BROAD AXE THE TEMPTA-TION TO MURDER HIM ESCAPE ACROSS THE PLANTATION OBSERVA-TIONS FROM THE FENCE TIBEATS APPROACHES, FOLLOWED BY THE HOUNDSTHEY TAKE MY TRACK THEIR LOUD YELLS THEY ALMOST OVERTAKEME 1 REACH THE WATER THE HOUNDS CONFUSED MOCCASIN SNAKESALLIGATORS NIGHT IN THE "GREAT PACOUDRLE SWAMP" — ' THE SOUNDSOF LIFE NORTH-WEST COURSE EMERGE INTO THE PINE WOODS THESLAVE AND HIS YOUNG MASTER ARRIVAL AT FORD'S FOOD AND REST.At the end of a month, my services being no lon-ger required at Tanner's I was sent over the bayouagain to my master, whom I found engaged in build-ing the cotton press. This was situated at some dis-tance from the great house, in a rather retired place.I commenced working once more in company withTibeats, being entirely alone with him most part ofthe time. I remembered the words of Chapin, hisprecautions, his advice to beware, lest in some unsus-pecting moment he might injure me. They were al-ways in my mind, so that I lived in a most uneasystate of apprehension and fear. One eye was on mywork, the other on my master. I determined to givehim no cause of offence, to work still more diligently,

　　132 TWELVE YEARS A SLAVE.if possible, than I had done, to bear whatever abusehe might heap upon me, save bodily injury, humblyand patiently, hoping thereby to soften in some de-gree his manner towards me, until the blessed timemight come when I should be delivered from hisclutches.The third morning after my return, Chapin left theplantation for Cheneyville, to be absent until night.Tibeats, on that morning, was attacked with one ofthose periodical fits of spleen and ill-humor to whichhe was frequently subject, rendering him still moredisagreeable and venomous than usual.It was about nine o'clock in the forenoon, when Iwas busily employed with the jack-plane on one of thesweeps. Tibeats was standing by the work-bench,fitting a handle into the chisel, with which he hadbeen engaged previously in cutting the thread of thescrew." You are not planing that down enough," said he." It is just even with the line," I replied." You're a d — d liar," he exclaimed passionately." Oh, well, master," I said, mildly, " I will plane itdown more if you say so," at the same time proceed-ing to do as I supposed he desired. Before one sha-ving had been removed, however, he cried out, say-ing I had now planed it too deep — it was too small— I had spoiled the sweep entirely. Then followedcurses and imprecations. I had endeavored to do ex-actly as he directed, but nothing would satisfy the un-reasonable man. In silence and in dread I stood by the

　　TIBEATS ATTACKS ME. 133sweep, holding the jack-plane in my hand, not know-ing what to do, and not daring to be idle. His angergrew more and more violent, until, finally, with anoath, such a bitter, frightful oath as only Tibeats couldutter, he seized a hatchet from the work-bench anddarted towards me, swearing he would cut my headopen.It was a moment of life or death. The sharp, brightblade of the hatchet glittered in the sun. In anotherinstant it would be buried in my brain, and yet inthat instant — so quick will a man's thoughts come tohim in such a fearful strait — I reasoned with my-self. If I stood still, my doom was certain ; if I fled,ten chances to one the hatchet, flying from his handwith a too-deadly and unerring aim, would strike mein the back. There was but one course to take.Springing towards him with all my power, and meet-ing him full half-way, before he could bring down theblow, with one hand I caught his uplifted arm, withthe other seized him by the throat. We stood look-ing each other in the eyes. In his I could see mur-der. I felt as if I had a serpent by the neck, watch-ing the slightest relaxation of my gripe, to coil itselfround my body, crushing and stinging it to death. Ithought to scream aloud, trusting that some ear mightcatch the sound — but Chapin was away ; the handswere in the field ; there was no living soul in sightor hearing.The good genius, which thus far through life hassaved me from the hands of violence, at that moment

　　134 TWELVE TEAKS A SLAVE.suggested a lucky thought. With a vigorous andsudden kick, that brought him on one knee, with agroan, I released mj hold upon his throat, snatchedthe hatchet, and cast it beyond reach.Frantic with rage, maddened beyond control, heseized a white oak stick, five feet long, perhaps, andas large in circumference as his hand could grasp,which was lying on the ground. Again he rushedtowards me, and again I met him, seized him aboutthe waist, and being the stronger of the two, borehim to the earth. "While in that position I obtainedpossession of the stick, and rising, cast it from me,also.He likewise arose and ran for the broad-axe, on thework-bench. Fortunately, there was a heavy planklying upon its broad blade, in such a manner that hecould not extricate it, before I had sprung upon hisback. Pressing him down closely and heavily on theplank, so that the axe was held more firmly to itsplace, I endeavored, but in vain, to break his graspupon the handle. In that position we remained someminutes.There have been hours in my unhappy life, manyof them, when the contemplation of death as the endof earthly sorrow — of the grave as a resting placefor the tired and worn out body — has been pleasantto dwell upon. But such contemplations vanish in thehour of peril. "No man, in his full strength, canstand undismayed, in the presence of the " king ofterrors." Life is dear to every living thing; the

　　TEMPTATION TO MURDER TD3EATS. 135worm that crawls upon the ground will struggle forit. At that moment it was dear to me, enslaved andtreated as I was.ISTot able to unloose his hand, once more I seizedhim by the throat, and this time, with a vice-likegripe that soon relaxed his hold. He became pliantand unstrung. His face, that had been white withpassion, was now black from suffocation. Those smallserpent eyes that spat such venom, were now full ofhorror — two great white orbs starting from theirsockets !There was " a lurking devil" in my heart thatprompted me to kill the human blood-hound on thespot — to retain the gripe on his accursed throat tillthe breath of life was gone ! I dared not murderhim, and I dared not let him live. If I killed him,my life must pay the forfeit — if he lived, my lifeonly would satisfy his vengeance. A voice withinwhispered me to fly. To be a wanderer among theswamps, a fugitive and a vagabond on the face ofthe earth, was preferable to the life that I was lead-ing.My resolution was soon formed, and swinging himfrom the work-bench to the ground, I leaped a fencenear by, and hurried across the plantation, passingthe slaves at work in the cotton field. At the end ofa quarter of a mile I reached the wood-pasture, andit was a short time indeed that I had been runningit. Climbing on to a high fence, I could see thecotton press, the great house, and the space between.

　　136 TWELVE YEAES A SLA\ £.It was a conspicuous position, from whence the wholeplantation was in view. I saw Tibeats cross the fieldtowards the house, and enter it — • then he came out,carrying his saddle, and presently mounted his horseand galloped away.I was desolate, but thankful. Thankful that mylife was spared, — desolate and discouraged with theprospect before me. What would become of me ?Who would befriend me ? Whither should I fly ?Oh, God ! Thou who gavest me life, and implantedin my bosom the love of life — who filled it withemotions such as other men, thy creatures, have, donot forsake me. Have pity on the poor slave — letme not perish. If thou dost not protect me, I am.lost — lost! Such supplications, silently and unut-tered, ascended from my inmost heart to Heaven.But there was no answering voice — no sweet, lowtone, coming down from on high, whispering to mysoul, " It is I, be not afraid." I was the forsaken ofGod, it seemed — the despised and hated of men !In about three-fourths of an hour several of theslaves shouted and made signs for me to run. Pres-ently, looking up the bayou, I saw Tibeats and twoothers on horse-back, coming at a fast gait, followedby a troop of dogs. There were as many as eight orten. Distant as I was, I knew them. They belongedon the adjoining plantation. The dogs used on BayouBoeuf for hunting slaves are a kind of blood-hound,but a far more savage breed than is found in theNorthern States. They will attack a negro, at their

　　PURSUED BY HOUNDS. 137master's bidding, and cling to him as the commonbull-dog will cling to a four footed animal. Fre-quently their loud bay is heard in the swamps, andthen there is speculation as to what point the runawaywill be overhauled — the same as alSTew-York hunterstops to listen to the hounds coursing along the hill-sides, and suggests to his companion that the fox willbe taken at such a place. I never knew, a slave es-caping with his life from Bayou Bceuf. One reasonis, they are not allowed to learn the art of swimming,and are incapable of crossing the most inconsiderablestream. In their flight they can go in no directionbut a little way without coming to a bayou, when theinevitable alternative is presented, of being drownedor overtaken by the dogs. In youth I had practisedin the clear streams that flow through my native dis-trict, until I had become an expert swimmer, and feltat home in the watery element.I stood upon the fence until the dogs had reachedthe cotton press. In an instant more, their long, sav-age yells announced they were on my track. Leap-ing down from my position, I ran towards the swamp.Fear gave me strength, and I exerted it to the utmost.Every few moments I could hear the yelpings of thedogs. They were gaining upon me. Every howlwas nearer and nearer. Each moment I expectedthey would spring upon my back — expected to feeltheir long teeth sinking into my flesh. There wereso many of them, I knew they would tear me to pie-ces, that they would worry me, at once, to death, I

　　138 TWELVE YEARS A SLAVE.gasped for breath — gasped forth a half-uttered, cho-king prayer to the Almighty to save me — to give mestrength to reach some wide, deep bayou where Icould throw them off the track, or sink into its wa-ters. Presently I reached a thick palmetto bottom.As I fled through them they made a loud rustlingnoise, not loud enough, however, to drown the voicesof the dogs.Continuing my course due south, as nearly as I canjudge, I came at length to water just over shoe.The hounds at that moment could not have been fiverods behind me. I could hear them crashing andplunging through the palmettoes, their loud, eageryells making the whole swamp clamorous with thesound. Hope revived a little as I reached the water.If it were only deeper, they might loose the scent, andthus disconcerted, afford me the opportunity of eva-ding them. Luckily, it grew deeper the farther Iproceeded — now over my ankles — now half-way tomy knees — now sinking a moment to my waist, andthen emerging presently into more shallow places.The dogs had not gained upon me since I struck thewater. Evidently they were confused. Now theirsavage intonations grew more and more distant, as-suring me that I was leaving them. Finally I stop-ped to listen, but the long howl came booming on theair again, telling me I was not yet safe. From bog tobog, where I had stepped, they could still keep uponthe track, though impeded by the water. At length,to my great joy, I came to a wide bayou, and plung-

　　I EEACn THE WATER. 139ing in, had soon stemmed its sluggish current to theother side. There, certainly, the dogs would be con-founded — the current carrying down the stream alltraces of that slight, mysterious scent, which enablesthe quick-smelling hound to follow in the track of thefugitive.After crossing this bayou the water became sodeep I could not. run. I was now in what I after-wards learned was the " Great Pacoudrie Swamp."It was filled with immense trees ■ — the sycamore, thegum, the cotton wood and cypress, and extends, I aminformed, to the shore of the Calcasieu river. Forthirty or forty miles it is without inhabitants, savewild beasts — the bear, the wild-cat, the tiger, andgreat slimy reptiles, that are crawling through iteverywhere. Long before I reached the bayou, infact, from the time I struck the water until I emer-ged from the swamp on my return, these reptilessurrounded me. I saw hundreds of moccasin snakes.Every log and bog — every trunk of a fallen tree,over which I was compelled to step or climb, wasalive with them. They crawled away at my ap-proach, but sometimes in my haste, I almost placedmy hand or foot upon them. They are poisonousserpents— their bite more fatal than the rattlesnake's.Besides, I had lost one shoe, the sole having comeentirely off, leaving the upper only dangling to myankle.I saw also many alligators, great and small, lyingin the water, or on pieces of fioodwood. The noise I

　　140 TWELVE YEARS A SLAVE.made usually startled them, when they moved off andplunged into the deepest places. Sometimes, how-ever, I would come directly upon a monster beforeobserving it. In such cases, I would start back, runa short way round, and in that manner shun them.Straight forward, they will run a short distance rapidly,but do not possess the power of turning. In a crook-ed race, there is no difficulty in evading them.About two o'clock in the afternoon, I heard thelast of the hounds. Probably they did not cross thebayou. "Wet and weary, but relieved from the senseof instant peril, I continued on, more cautious andafraid, however, of the snakes and alligators than Ihad been in the earlier portion of my flight. ]STow,before stepping into a muddy pool, I would strikethe water with a stick. If the waters moved, I wouldgo around it, if not, would venture through.At length the sun went down, and gradually night'strailing mantle shrouded the great swamp in dark-ness. Still I staggered on, fearing every instant Ishould feel the dreadful sting of the moccasin, or becrushed within the jaws of some disturbed alligator.The dread of them now almost equaled the fear ofthe pursuing hounds. The moon arose after a time,its mild light creeping through the overspreadingbranches, loaded with long, pendent moss. I kepttraveling forwards until after midnight, hoping allthe while that I would soon emerge into some lessdesolate and dangerous region. But the water grewdeeper and the walking more difficult than ever. I

　　NIGHT IN" THE SWAMP. 141perceived it would be impossible to proceed much,farther, and knew not, moreover, what hands I mightfall into, should I succeed in reaching a human hab-itation. Not provided with a pass, any white manwould be at liberty to arrest me, and place me inprison until such time as my master should " proveproperty, pay charges, and take me away." I was anestray, and if so unfortunate as to meet a law-abidingcitizen of Louisiana, he would deem it his duty to hisneighbor, perhaps, to put me forthwith in the pound.Really, it vas difficult to determine which I had mostreason to fear — dogs, alligators or men !After midnight, however, I came to a halt. Ima-gination cannot picture the dreariness of the scene.The swamp was resonant with the quacking of innu-merable ducks ! Since the foundation of the earth,in all probability, a human footstep had never beforeso far penetrated the recesses of the swamp. It wasnot silent now — silent to a degree that rendered itoppressive, —as it was when the sun was shining inthe heavens. My midnight intrusion had awakenedthe feathered tribes, which seemed to throng the mo-rass in hundreds of thousands, and their garrulousthroats poured forth such multitudinous sounds — ■there was such a fluttering of wings — such sullenplunges in the water all around me — that I was af-frighted and appalled. All the fowls of the air, andall the creeping things of the earth appeared to haveassembled together in that particular place, for thepurpose of filling it with clamor and confusion. Not

　　142 TWELVE YEARS A SLAVE.by human dwellings — not in crowded cities alone,are the sights and sounds of life. The wildest placesof the earth are full of them. Even in the heart ofthat dismal swamp, God had provided a refuge and adwelling place for millions of living things.The moon had now risen above the trees, when Iresolved upon a new project. Thus far Iliad endeav-ored to travel as nearly south as possible. Turningabout I proceeded in a north-west direction, my ob-ject being to strike the Pine "Woods in the vicinity ofMaster Ford's. Once within the shadow of his pro-tection, I felt I would be comparatively safe.My clothes were in tatters, my hands, face, andbody covered with scratches, received from the sharpknots of fallen trees, and in climbing over piles ofbrush and fioodwood. My bare foot was full of thorns.I was besmeared with muck and mud, and the greenslime that had collected on the surface of the deadwater, in which I had been immersed to the neckmany times during the day and night. Hour afterhour, and tiresome indeed had they become, I contin-ued to plod along on my north-west course. The wa-ter began to grow less deep, and the ground more firmunder my feet. At last I reached the Pacoudrie, thesame wide bayou I had swam while " outwardbound." I swam it again, and shortly after thoughtI heard a cock crow, but the sound was faint, and itmight have been a mockery of the ear. The water■receded from my advancing footsteps — now I hadleft the bogs behind me — now I was on dryland

　　THE SLAVE AND HIS MASTER. 143tliat gradually ascended to the plain, and I knew \was somewhere in the " Great Pine Woods."Just at day -break I came to an opening — a sort ofsmall plantation — but one I had never seen before.In the edge of the woods I came upon two men, aslave and his young master, engaged in catching wildhogs. The white man I knew would demand mypass, and not able to give him one, would take meinto possession. I was too wearied to run again, andtoo desperate to be taken, and therefore adopted aruse that proved entirely successful. Assuming afierce expression, I walked directly towards him, look-ing him steadily in the face. As I approached, hemoved backwards with an air of alarm. It was plainhe was much affrighted — that he looked upon me assome infernal goblin, just arisen from the bowels ofthe swamp !" "Where does William Ford live ? " I demanded, inno gentle tone." He lives seven miles from here," was the reply." Which is the way to his place ? " I again demand-ed, 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 abovetheir fellows, like a couple of tall sentinels, overlook-ing 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 willlead you to William Ford's."

　　144 TWELVE TEARS A SLAVE."Without further parley, I hastened forward, happyas he was, no doubt, to place the widest possible dis-tance between us. Striking the Texas road, I turnedto the left hand, as directed, and soon passed a greatfire, where a pile of logs were burning. I went to it,thinking I would dry my clothes ; but the gray lightof the morning was fast breaking away, — some pass-ing white man might observe me ; besides, the heatoverpowered me with the desire of sleep : so, linger-ing 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, attheir work. Stepping on to the piazza, I knocked atthe door, which was soon opened by Mistress Ford.My appearance was so changed — I was in such a wo-begone and forlorn condition, she did not know me.Inquiring if Master Ford was at home, that good manmade his appearance, before the question could beanswered. I told him of my flight, and all the par-ticulars connected with it. He listened attentively,and when I had concluded, spoke to me kindly andsympathetically, and taking me to the kitchen, calledJohn, and ordered him to prepare me food. I hadtasted nothing since daylight the previous morning."When John had set the meal before me, the madamcame out with a bowl of milk, and many little deli-cious dainties, such as rarely please the palate of aslave. I was hungry, and I was weary, but neitherfood nor rest afforded half the pleasure as did theblessed voices speaking kindness and consolation. It

　　FOOD AND BEST. 145was the oil and the wine which the Good Samaritanin the " Great Pine Woods " was ready to pour intothe 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. Blessedbe sleep ! It visiteth all alike, descending as the dewsof heaven on the bond and free. Soon it nestled to mybosom, driving away the troubles that oppressed it, andbearing me to that shadowy region, where I saw againthe faces, and listened to the voices of my children,who, alas, for aught I knew in my waking hours, hadfallen into the arms of that other sleep, from whichthey never would arouse.