CHAPTER XX.

by Solomon Northup

　　CHAPTER XX.BASS FAITHFUL TO HIS WORD HIS ARRIVAL ON CHRISTMAS EVE THE DIF-FICULTY OF OBTAINING AN INTERVIEW THE MEETING IN THE CABINNON- ARRIVAL OF THE LETTER BASS ANNOUNCES HIS INTENTION TO PRO-CEED NORTH CHRISTMAS CONVERSATION BETWEEN EPPS AND BASSYOUNG MISTRESS m'cOY, THE BEAUTY OF BAYOU BCEUF THE "NE PLUSULTRA" OF DINNERS MUSIC AND DANCING PRESENCE OF THE MISTRESSHER EXCEEDING BEAUTY THE LAST SLAVE DANCE WILLIAM PIERCEOVERSLEEP MYSELF THE LAST WHIPPING DESPONDENCY THE COLDMORNING EPPS' THREATS THE PASSING CARRIAGE STRANGERS AP-PROACHING THROUGH THE COTTON-FIELD LAST HOUR ON BAYOU BCEUF.Faithful to his word, the day before Christmas, justat night-fall, Bass came riding into the yard."How are you," said Epps, shaking him by thehand, " glad to see you."He would not have been very glad had he knownthe object of his errand."Quite well, quite well," answered Bass. "Hadsome business out on the bayou, and concluded to calland see you, and stay over night."Epps ordered one of the slaves to take charge ofhis horse, and with much talk and laughter they pass-ed into the house together ; not, however, until Bassbad looked at me significantly, as much as to say,

　　2S0 TWELVE TEAES A SLAVE." Keep dark, we understand each other." It was teno'clock at night before the labors of the day were per-formed, when I entered the cabin. At that time Un-cle Abram and Bob occupied it with me. I laiddown upon my board and feigned I was asleep.When my companions had fallen into a profoundslumber, I moved stealthily out of the door, and watch-ed, and listened attentively for some sign or soundfrom Bass. There I stood until long after midnight,but nothing could be seen or heard. As I suspected,he dared not leave the house, through fear of excitingthe suspicion of some of the family. I judged, correct-y, he would rise earlier than was his custom, andtake the opportunity of seeing me before Epps wasup. Accordingly I aroused Uncle Abram an horn*sooner than usual, and sent him into the house to builda fire, which, at that season of the year, is a part ofUncle Abram's duties.I also gave Bob a violent shake, and asked him ifhe intended to sleep till noon, saying master would beup before the mules were fed. He knew right wellthe consequence that would follow such an event, and,jumping to his feet, was at the horse-pasture in atwinkling.Presently, when both were gone, Bass slipped intothe cabin." No letter yet, Piatt," said he. The announce-ment fell upon my heart like lead." Oh, do write again, Master Bass," I cried ; " Iwill give you the names of a great many I know.

　　THE MEETING TN THE CABIN. 281Surely they are not all dead. Surely some one willpity me."" ]STo use," Bass replied, "no use. I have made upmy mind to that. I fear the Marksville post-masterwill mistrust something, I have inquired so often athis office. Too uncertain — too dangerous."" Then it is all over," I exclaimed. " Oh, my God,how can I end my days here !"" You're not going to end them here," he said, " un-less you die very soon. I've thought this matter allover, and have come to a determination. There aremore ways than one to manage this business, and abetter and surer way than writing letters. I have ajob or two on hand which can be completed by Marchor April. By that time I shall have a considerablesum of money, and then, Piatt, I am going to Sarato-ga myself."I could scarcely credit my own senses as the wordsfell from his lips. But he assured me, in a mannerthat left no doubt of the sincerity of his intention, thatif his life was spared until spring, he should certainlyundertake the journey." I have lived in this region long enough," he con-tinued ; " I may as well be in one place as another.For a long time I have been thinking of going backonce more to the place where I was born. I'm tiredof Slavery as well as you. If I can succeed in gettingyou away from here, it will be a good act that I shalllike to think of all my life. And I shall succeed,

　　282 TWELVE YEARS A SLAVE.Piatt ; I'm hound to do it. Now let me tell you whatI want. Epps will be up soon, and it won't do to becaught here. Think of a great many men at Sarato-ga and Sandy Hill, and in that neighborhood, whoonce knew you. I shall make excuse to come hereagain in the course of the winter, when I will writedown their names. I will then know who to call onwhen I go north. Think of all you can. Cheer up !Don't be discouraged. I'm with you, life or death.Good-bye. God bless you," and saying this he leftthe cabin quickly, and entered the great house.It was Christmas morning — the happiest day in thewhole year for the slave. That morning he need nothurry to the field, with his gourd and cotton-bag.Happiness sparkled in the eyes and overspread thecountenances of all. The time of feasting and dancinghad come. The cane and cotton fields were deserted.That day the clean dress was t® be donned — the redribbon displayed ; there were to be re-unions, andjoy and laughter, and hurrying to and fro. It wasto be a day of liberty among the children of Slavery.Wherefore they were happy, and rejoiced.After breakfast Epps and Bass sauntered about theyard, conversing upon the price of cotton, and va-rious other topics."Where do your niggers hold Christmas ?" Bass in-quired."Piatt is going to Tanners to-day. His fiddle isin great demand. They want him at Marshall's Mon-

　　ErPS' COVEKSATTON WITH BASS. 283day, and Miss Maiy McCoy, on tlie old Norwoodplantation, writes me a note that she wants him toplay for her niggers Tuesday."" He is rather a smart boy, ain't he ?" said Bass." Come here, Piatt," he added, looking at me as Iwalked up to them, as if he had never thought beforeto take any special notice of me." Yes," replied Epps, taking hold of my arm andfeeling it, " there isn't a bad joint in him. There ain'ta boy on the bayou worth more than he is — perfect-ly sound, and no bad tricks. D — n him, he isn't likeother niggers ; doesn't look like 'em — don't act like'em. I was offered seventeen hundred dollars for himlast week."" And didn't take it ?" Bass inquired, with an airof surprise." Take it — no ; devilish clear of it. Why, he's areg'lar genius ; can make a plough beam, wagontongue — anything, as well as you can. Marshallwanted to put up one of his niggers agin him and raf-fle for them, but I told him I would see the devil havehim first."" I don't see anything remarkable about him," Bassobserved." "Why, just feel of him, now," Epps rejoined." You don't see a boy very often put together anycloser than he is. He's a thin-skin'd cuss, and won'tbear as much whipping as some ; but he's got themuscle in him, and no mistake.Bass felt of me, turned me round, and made a

　　284: TWELVE TEAKS A SLAVE.thorough examination, Epps all the while dwelling onmy good points. But his visitor seemed to take butlittle interest finally in the subject, and consequentlyit was dropped. Bass soon departed, giving me an-other sly look of recognition and significance, as hetrotted out of the yard.When he was gone I obtained a pass, and startedfor Tanner's — not Peter Tanner's, of whom mentionhas previously been made, but a relative of his. Iplayed during the day and most of the night, spend-ing the next day, Sunday, in my cabin. Monday Icrossed the bayou to Douglas Marshall's, all Epps'slaves accompanying me, and on Tuesday went to theold Norwood place, which is the third plantationabove Marshall's, on the same side of the water.This estate is now owned hj Miss Mary McCoy, alovely girl, some twenty years of age. She is the beau-ty and the glory of Bayou Bceuf. She owns about ahundred working hands, besides a great many houseservants, yard boys, and young children. Her broth-er-in-law, who resides on the adjoining estate, is hergeneral agent. She is beloved by all her slaves, andgood reason indeed have they to be thankful that theyhave fallen into such gentle hands. Nowhere on thebayou are there such feasts, such merrymaking, as atyoung Madam McCoy's. Thither, more than to anyother place, do the old and the young for miles aroundlove to repair in the time of the Christmas holidays ;for nowhere else can they find such delicious repasts ;nowhere else can they hear a voice speaking to them

　　CHRISTMAS DINNER. 285bo pleasantly. ISTo one is so well beloved — no onefills so large a space in the hearts of a thousand slaves,as young Madam McCoy, the orphan mistress of theold Norwood estate.On my arrival at her place, I found two or threehundred had assembled. The table was prepared ina long building, which she had erected expressly forher slaves to dance in. It was covered with everyvariety of food the country afforded, and was pro-nounced by general acclamation to be the rarest ofdinners. Roast turkey, pig, chicken, duck, and allkinds of meat, baked, boiled, and broiled, formed aline the whole length of the extended table, while thevacant spaces were filled with tarts, jellies, and frost-ed cake, and pastry of many kinds. The young mis-tress walked around the table, smiling and saying akind word to each one, and seemed to enjoy the sceneexceedingly.When the dinner was over the tables were remov-ed to make room for the dancers. I tuned my violinand struck up a lively air ; while some joined in animble reel, others patted and sang their simple butmelodious songs, filling the great room with musicmingled with the sound of human voices and the clat-ter of many feet.In the evening the mistress returned, and stood inthe door a long time, looking at us. She was magnifi-cently arrayed Her dark hair and eyes contrastedstrongly with her clear and delicate complexion.Her form was slender but commanding, and her

　　286 TWELVE TEAES A SLAVE.movement was a combination of unaffected dignityand grace. As she stood there, clad in her rich ap-parel, her face animated with pleasure, I thought I hadnever looked upon a human being half so beautiful.I dwell with delight upon the description of this fairand gentle lady, not only because she inspired mewith emotions of gratitude and admiration, but be-cause I would have the reader understand that allslave-owners on Bayou Bceuf are not like Epps, orTibeats, or Jim Burns. Occasionally can be found,rarely it may be, indeed, a good man like "WilliamFord, or an angel of kindness like young MistressMcCoy.Tuesday concluded the three holidays Epps yearlyallowed us. On my way home, Wednesday morning,while passing the plantation of William Pierce, thatgentleman hailed me, saying he had received a linefrom Epps, brought down by William Yarnell, per-mitting him to detain me for the purpose of playingfor his slaves that night. It was the last time I wasdestined to witness a slave dance on the shores of Ba-you Bceuf. The party at Pierce's continued their jol-lification until broad daylight, when I returned to mymaster's house, somewhat wearied with the loss ofrest, but rejoicing in the possession of numerous bitsand picayunes, which the whites, who were pleasedwith my musical performances, had contributed.On Saturday morning, for the first time in years, Ioverslept myself. I was frightened on coming out ofthe cabin to find the slaves were already in the field.

　　THE LAST WHIPPING. 287They had preceded me some fifteen minutes. Leav-ing my dinner and water-gourd, I hurried after themas fast as I could move. It was not yet sunrise, butEpps was on the piazza as I left the hut, and cried outto me that it was a pretty time of day to be gettingup. By extra exertion my row was up when he cameout after breakfast. This, however, was no excuse forthe offence of oversleeping. Bidding me strip and liedown, he gave me ten or fifteen lashes, at the conclu-sion of which he inquired if I thought, after that, Icould get up sometime in the morning. I expressedmyself quite positively that I could, and, with backstinging with pain, went about my work.The following day, Sunday, my thoughts were uponBass, and the probabilities and hopes which hungupon his action and determination. I considered theuncertainty of life ; that if it should be the will ofGod that he should die, my prospect of deliverance, andall expectation of happiness in this world, would bewholly ended and destroyed. My sore back, perhaps,did not have a tendency to render me unusually cheer-ful. I felt down-hearted and unhappy all day long,and when I laid down upon the hard board at night,my heart was oppressed with such a load of grief, itseemed that it must break.Monday morning, the third of January, 1853, wewere in the field betimes. It was a raw, cold morn-ing, such as is unusual in that region. I was in ad-vance, Uncle Abram next to me, behind him Bob,Patsey and Wiley, with our cotton-bags about our

　　288 TWELVE TEARS A SLAVE.necks. Epps happened (a rare thing, indeed,) to comeout that morning without his whip. He swore, in amanner that would shame a pirate, that we were do-ing nothing. Bob ventured to say that his fingerswere so numb with cold he couldn't pick fast. Eppscursed himself for not having brought his rawhide,and declared that when he came out again he wouldwarm us well ; yes, he would make us all hotter thanthat fiery realm in which I am sometimes compelledto believe he will himself eventually reside."With these fervent expressions, he left us. "Whenout of hearing, we commenced talking to each other,saying how hard it was to be compelled to keep upour tasks with numb fingers ; how unreasonable mas-ter was, and speaking of him generally in no flatter-ing terms. Our conversation was interrupted by acarriage passing rapidly towards the house. Lookingup, we saw two men approaching us through the cot-ton-field.Having now brought down this narrative to the lasthour I was to spend on Bayou Bceuf — having got-ten through my last cotton picking, and about to bidMaster Epps farewell — I must beg the reader to goback with me to the month of August ; to follow Bass'letter on its long journey to Saratoga; to learn theeffect it produced — and that, while I was repiningand despairing in the slave hut of Edwin Epps,through the friendship of Bass and the goodness ofProvidence, all things were working together for mydeliverance.