第60章 Chapter XVII.(1)

　　The year 1850， down to which time I have now arrived，omitting many occurrences uninteresting to the reader，was an unlucky year for my companion Wiley， thehusband of Phebe， whose taciturn and retiring nature hasthus far kept him in the background. NotwithstandingWiley seldom opened his mouth， and revolved in hisobscure and unpretending orbit without a grumble，nevertheless the warm elements of sociality were strongin the bosom of that silent “nigger” In the exuberance ofhis self-reliance， disregarding the philosophy of UncleAbram， and setting the counsels of Aunt Phebe utterly atnaught， he had the fool-hardiness to essay a nocturnalvisit to a neighboring cabin without a pass.

　　So attractive was the society in which he foundhimself， that Wiley took little note of the passing hours，and the light began to break in the east before he wasaware. Speeding homeward as fast as he could run， hehoped to reach the quarters before the horn would sound；but， unhappily， he was spied on the way by a company ofpatrollers.

　　How it is in other dark places of slavery， I do not know，but on Bayou Boeuf there is an organization of patrollers，as they are styled， whose business it is to seize and whip any slave they may find wandering from the plantation.

　　They ride on horseback， headed by a captain， armed，and accompanied by dogs. They have the right， eitherby law， or by general consent， to inflict discretionarychastisement upon a black man caught beyond theboundaries of his master’s estate without a pass， and evento shoot him， if he attempts to escape. Each companyhas a certain distance to ride up and down the bayou.

　　They are compensated by the planters， who contribute inproportion to the number of slaves they own. The clatterof their horses’ hoofs dashing by can be heard at all hoursof the night， and frequently they may be seen drivinga slave before them， or leading him by a rope fastenedaround his neck， to his owner’s plantation.

　　Wiley fled before one of these companies， thinking hecould reach his cabin before they could overtake him； butone of their dogs， a great ravenous hound， griped him bythe leg， and held him fast. The patrollers whipped himseverely， and brought him， a prisoner， to Epps. Fromhim he received another flagellation still more severe， sothat the cuts of the lash and the bites of the dog renderedhim sore， stiff， and miserable， insomuch he was scarcelyable to move. It was impossible in such a state to keepup his row， and consequently there was not an hour inthe day but Wiley felt the sting of his master’s rawhideon his raw and bleeding back. His sufferings becameintolerable， and finally he resolved to run away. Withoutdisclosing his intentions to run away even to his wife Phebe， he proceeded to make arrangements for carryinghis plan into execution. Having cooked his whole week’sallowance， he cautiously left the cabin on a Sunday night，after the inmates of the quarters were asleep. When thehorn sounded in the morning， Wiley did not make hisappearance. Search was made for him in the cabins， inthe corn-crib， in the cotton-house， and in every nookand corner of the premises. Each of us was examined，touching any knowledge we might have that couldthrow light upon his sudden disappearance or presentwhereabouts. Epps raved and stormed， and mountinghis horse， galloped to neighboring plantations， makingin inquiries in all directions. The search was fruitless.

　　Nothing whatever was elicited， going to show what hadbecome of the missing man. The dogs were led to theswamp， but were unable to strike his trail. They wouldcircle away through the forest， their noses to the ground，but invariably returned in a short time to the spot fromwhence they started.

　　Wiley had escaped， and so secretly and cautiouslyas to elude and baffle all pursuit. Days and even weekspassed away， and nothing could be heard of him. Eppsdid nothing but curse and swear. It was the only topicof conversation among us when alone. We indulged in agreat deal of speculation in regard to him， one suggestinghe might have been drowned in some bayou， inasmuchas he was a poor swimmer； another， that perhaps hemight have been devoured by alligators， or stung by the venomous moccasin， whose bite is certain and suddendeath. The warm and hearty sympathies of us all，however， were with poor Wiley， wherever he might be.

　　Many an earnest prayer ascended from the lips of UncleAbram， beseeching safety for the wanderer.

　　In about three weeks， when all hope of ever seeing himagain was dismissed， to our surprise， he one day appearedamong us. On leaving the plantation， he informed us，it was his intention to make his way back to SouthCarolina—to the old quarters of Master Buford. Duringthe day he remained secreted， sometimes in the branchesof a tree， and at night pressed forward through theswamps. Finally， one morning， just at dawn， he reachedthe shore of Red River. While standing on the bank，considering how he could cross it， a white man accostedhim， and demanded a pass. Without one， and evidentlya runaway， he was taken to Alexandria， the shire townof the parish of Rapides， and confined in prison. Ithappened several days after that Joseph B. Roberts， uncleof Mistress Epps， was in Alexandria， and going into thejail， recognized him. Wiley had worked on his plantation，when Epps resided at Huff Power. Paying the jail fee，and writing him a pass， underneath which was a noteto Epps， requesting him not to whip him on his return，Wiley was sent back to Bayou Boeuf. It was the hope thathung upon this request， and which Roberts assured himwould be respected by his master， that sustained himas he approached the house. The request， however， as may be readily supposed， was entirely disregarded. Afterbeing kept in suspense three days， Wiley was stripped，and compelled to endure one of those inhuman floggingsto which the poor slave is so often subjected. It was thefirst and last attempt of Wiley to run away. The long scarsupon his back， which he will carry with him to the grave，perpetually remind him of the dangers of such a step.