第29章 Chapter IX.(1)

　　As the sun approached the meridian that day it becameinsufferably warm. Its hot rays scorched the ground. Theearth almost blistered the foot that stood upon it. I waswithout coat or hat， standing bareheaded， exposed to itsburning blaze. Great drops of perspiration rolled downmy face， drenching the scanty apparel wherewith I wasclothed. Over the fence， a very little way off， the peachtrees cast their cool， delicious shadows on the grass. Iwould gladly have given a long year of service to havebeen enabled to exchange the heated oven， as it were，wherein I stood， for a seat beneath their branches. ButI was yet bound， the rope still dangling from my neck，and standing in the same tracks where Tibeats and hiscomrades left me. I could not move an inch， so firmly hadI been bound. To have been enabled to lean against theweaving house would have been a luxury indeed. But itwas far beyond my reach， though distant less than twentyfeet. I wanted to lie down， but knew I could not riseagain. The ground was so parched and boiling hot I wasaware 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 ofa southern sun， beating all the long summer day on my bare head， produced not half the suffering I experiencedfrom my aching limbs. My wrists and ankles， and thecords of my legs and arms began to swell， burying therope 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 stateof great uneasiness， looking first towards me， and then upthe road， as if expecting some arrival every moment. Hedid not go to the field， as was his custom. It was evidentfrom his manner that he supposed Tibeats would returnwith more and better armed assistance， perhaps， to renewthe quarrel， and it was equally evident he had preparedhis mind to defend my life at whatever hazard. Why hedid not relieve me—why he suffered me to remain inagony the whole weary day， I never knew. It was not forwant of sympathy， I am certain. Perhaps he wished Fordto see the rope about my neck， and the brutal mannerin which I had been bound； perhaps his interferencewith another’s property in which he had no legal interestmight have been a trespass， which would have subjectedhim to the penalty of the law. Why Tibeats was all dayabsent was another mystery I never could divine. Heknew well enough that Chapin would not harm himunless he persisted in his design against me. Lawson toldme afterwards， that， as he passed the plantation of JohnDavid Cheney， he saw the three， and that they turned andlooked after him as he flew by. I think his suppositionwas， that Lawson had been sent out by Overseer Chapin to arouse the neighboring planters， and to call on themto come to his assistance. He， therefore， undoubtedly，acted on the principle， that “discretion is the better partof valor，” and kept away.

　　But whatever motive may have governed the cowardlyand malignant tyrant， it is of no importance. There I stillstood in the noon-tide sun， groaning with pain. Fromlong before daylight I had not eaten a morsel. I wasgrowing faint from pain， and thirst， and hunger. Onceonly， in the very hottest portion of the day， Rachel， halffearful she was acting contrary to the overseer’s wishes，ventured to me， and held a cup of water to my lips. Thehumble creature never knew， nor could she comprehendif 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 laborsin the kitchen.

　　Never did the sun move so slowly through the heavens—never did it shower down such fervent and fiery rays， asit did that day. At least， so it appeared to me. What mymeditations were—the innumerable thoughts thatthronged through my distracted brain—I will not attemptto give expression to. Suffice it to say， during the wholelong day I came not to the conclusion， even once， thatthe southern slave， fed， clothed， whipped and protectedby his master， is happier than the free colored citizenof the North. To that conclusion I have never sincearrived. There are many， however， even in the Northern States， benevolent and well-disposed men， who willpronounce my opinion erroneous， and gravely proceed tosubstantiate the assertion with an argument. Alas！ theyhave never drank， as I have， from the bitter cup of slavery.

　　Just at sunset my heart leaped with unbounded joy， asFord came riding into the yard， his horse covered withfoam. Chapin met him at the door， and after conversing ashort time， he walked directly to me.

　　“Poor Platt， you are in a bad state，” was the only expressionthat escaped his lips.

　　“Thank God！” said I， “thank God， Master Ford， thatyou have come at last.”

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

　　Ford returned immediately to the house， leaving mealone again. As he reached the piazza， Tibeats and his twofriends rode up. A long dialogue followed. I could hearthe sound of their voices， the mild tones of Ford minglingwith the angry accents of Tibeats， but was unable todistinguish what was said. Finally the three departedagain， apparently not well pleased.