第37章 Chapter XI.(2)

　　“This is no way of dealing with them， when first broughtinto the country. It will have a pernicious influence， andset them all running away. The swamps will be full ofthem. A little kindness would be far more effectual inrestraining them， and rendering them obedient， than theuse of such deadly weapons. Every planter on the bayoushould frown upon such inhumanity. It is for the interestof all to do so. It is evident enough， Mr. Tibeats， thatyou and Platt cannot live together. You dislike him， andwould not hesitate to kill him， and knowing it， he will runfrom you again through fear of his life. Now， Tibeats， youmust sell him， or hire him out， at least. Unless you do so，I shall take measures to get him out of your possession.”

　　In this spirit Ford addressed him the remainder ofthe distance. I opened not my mouth. On reaching theplantation they entered the great house， while I repairedto Eliza’s cabin. The slaves were astonished to find methere， on returning from the field， supposing I wasdrowned. That night， again， they gathered about thecabin to listen to the story of my adventure. They tookit for granted I would be whipped， and that it would besevere， the well-known penalty of running away beingfive hundred lashes.

　　“Poor fellow，” said Eliza， taking me by the hand， “itwould have been better for you if you had drowned. Youhave a cruel master， and he will kill you yet， I am afraid.”

　　Lawson suggested that it might be， overseer Chapinwould be appointed to inflict the punishment， in whichcase it would not be severe， whereupon Mary， Rachel，Bristol， and others hoped it would be Master Ford， andthen it would be no whipping at all. They all pitied meand tried to console me， and were sad in view of thecastigation that awaited me， except Kentucky John. Therewere no bounds to his laughter； he filled the cabin withcachinnations， holding his sides to prevent an explosion，and the cause of his noisy mirth was the idea of myoutstripping the hounds. Somehow， he looked at thesubject in a comical light. “I know’d dey would’nt cotchhim， when he run cross de plantation. O， de lor’， did’ntPlatt pick his feet right up， tho’， hey？ When dem dogs gotwhar he was， he was’nt dar—haw， haw， haw！ O， de lor’ a’ mity！” —and then Kentucky John relapsed into anotherof his boisterous fits.

　　Early the next morning， Tibeats left the plantation.

　　In the course of the forenoon， while sauntering aboutthe gin-house， a tall， good-looking man came to me， andinquired if I was Tibeats’ boy， that youthful appellationbeing applied indiscriminately to slaves even though theymay have passed the number of three score years and ten.

　　I took off my hat， and answered that I was.

　　“How would you like to work for me？” he inquired.

　　“Oh， I would like to， very much，” said I， inspired with asudden hope of getting away from Tibeats.

　　“You worked under Myers at Peter Tanner’s， didn’tyou？”

　　I replied I had， adding some complimentary remarksthat Myers had made concerning me.

　　“Well， boy，” said he， “I have hired you of your masterto work for me in the ‘Big Cane Brake，’ thirty-eight milesfrom here， down on Red River.”

　　This man was Mr. Eldret， who lived below Ford’s， onthe same side of the bayou. I accompanied him to hisplantation， and in the morning started with his slave Sam，and a wagon-load of provisions， drawn by four mules， forthe Big Cane， Eldret and Myers having preceded us onhorseback. This Sam was a native of Charleston， wherehe had a mother， brother and sisters. He “allowed” —acommon word among both black and white—that Tibeatswas a mean man， and hoped， as I most earnestly did also，that his master would buy me.

　　We proceeded down the south shore of the bayou，crossing it at Carey’s plantation； from thence to HuffPower， passing which， we came upon the Bayou Rougeroad， which runs towards Red River. After passingthrough Bayou Rouge Swamp， and just at sunset， turningfrom the highway， we struck off into the “Big CaneBrake.” We followed an unbeaten track， scarcely wideenough to admit the wagon. The cane， such as are usedfor fishing-rods， were as thick as they could stand. Aperson could not be seen through them the distance of arod. The paths of wild beasts run through them in variousdirections —the bear and the American tiger aboundingin these brakes， and wherever there is a basin of stagnantwater， it is full of alligators.

　　We kept on our lonely course through the “Big Cane”

　　several miles， when we entered a clearing， known as“Sutton’s Field.” Many years before， a man by the nameof Sutton had penetrated the wilderness of cane to thissolitary place. Tradition has it， that he fled thither， afugitive， not from service， but from justice. Here he livedalone—recluse and hermit of the swamp—with his ownhands planting the seed and gathering in the harvest. Oneday a band of Indians stole upon his solitude， and aftera bloody battle， overpowered and massacred him. Formiles the country round， in the slaves’ quarters， and onthe piazzas of “great houses，” where white children listento superstitious tales， the story goes， that that spot， in theheart of the “Big Cane，” is a haunted place. For more thana quarter of a century， human voices had rarely， if ever，disturbed the silence of the clearing. Rank and noxiousweeds had overspread the once cultivated field—serpentssunned themselves on the doorway of the crumblingcabin. It was indeed a dreary picture of desolation.

　　Passing “Sutton’s Field，” we followed a new-cut roadtwo miles farther， which brought us to its termination.