Among the Pines Part 1

Among the Pines.

by James R. Gilmore.

CHAPTER I.

ON THE ROAD.

Some winters ago I pa.s.sed several weeks at Tallaha.s.see, Florida, and while there made the acquaintance of Colonel J----, a South Carolina planter. Accident, some little time later, threw us together again at Charleston, when I was gratified to learn that he would be my _compagnon du voyage_ as far north as New York.

He was accompanied by his body-servant, "Jim," a fine specimen of the genus darky, about thirty years of age, and born and reared in his master's family. As far as possible we made the journey by day, stopping at some convenient resting-place by night; on which occasions the Colonel, Jim, and myself would occupy the same or adjoining apartments, "we white folks" sleeping on four posts, while the more democratic negro spread his blanket on the floor. Thrown together thus intimately, it was but natural that we should learn much of each other.

The "Colonel" was a highly cultivated and intelligent gentleman, and during this journey a friends.h.i.+p sprung up between us--afterward kept alive by a regular correspondence--which led him, with his wife and daughter, and the man Jim, to my house on his next visit at the North, one year later. I then promised--if I should ever again travel in South Carolina--to visit him on his plantation in the extreme north-eastern part of the state.

In December last, about the time of the pa.s.sage of the ordinance of secession, I had occasion to visit Charleston, and, previous to setting out, dispatched a letter to the Colonel with the information that I was ready to be led of him "into the wilderness." On arriving at the head-quarters of secession, I found a missive awaiting me, in which my friend cordially renewed his previous tender of hospitality, gave me particular directions how to proceed, and stated that his "man Jim"

would meet me with a carriage at Georgetown, and convey me thence, seventy miles, to "the plantation."

Having performed the business which led me to Charleston, I set out for the rendezvous five days before the date fixed for the meeting, intending to occupy the intervening time in an exploration of the ancient town and its surroundings.

The little steamer Nina (a cross between a full-grown nautilus and a half-grown tub), which a few weeks later was enrolled as the first man-of-war of the Confederate navy, then performed the carrying trade between the two princ.i.p.al cities of South Carolina. On her, together with sundry boxes and bales, and certain human merchandise, I embarked at Charleston, and on a delicious morning, late in December, landed at Georgetown.

As the embryo war-steamer rounded up to the long, low, rickety dock, lumbered breast-high with cotton, turpentine, and rosin, not a white face was to be seen. A few half-clad, s.h.i.+ftless-looking negroes, lounging idly about, were the only portion of the population in waiting to witness our landing.

"Are all the people dead?" I inquired of one of them, thinking it strange that an event so important as the arrival of the Charleston packet should excite no greater interest in so quiet a town. "Not dead, ma.s.sa," replied the black, with a knowing chuckle, "but dey'm gettin'

ready for a fun'ral." "What funeral?" I asked. "Why, dey'm gwine to shoot all de boblition darkies at de Norf, and hab a brack burying; he!

he!" and the sable gentleman expanded the opening in his countenance to an enormous extent, doubtless at the brilliancy of his wit.

I asked him to take my portmanteau, and conduct me to the best hotel. He readily a.s.sented, "Yas, yas, ma.s.sa, I show you whar de _big-bugs_ stop;"

but at once turning to another darky standing near, he accosted him with, "Here, Jim, you lazy n.i.g.g.a, tote de gemman's tings."

"Why don't you take them yourself?" I asked; "you will then get all the pay." "No, no, ma.s.sa; dat n.i.g.g.a and me in partens.h.i.+p; he do de work, and I keeps de change," was the grinning reply, and it admirably ill.u.s.trates a peculiarity I have observed to be universal with the negro. When left to his own direction, he invariably "goes into partens.h.i.+p" with some one poorer than himself, and no matter how trivial the task, s.h.i.+rks all the labor he can.

The silent darky and my portmanteau in the van, and the garrulous old negro guarding my flank, I wended my way through the princ.i.p.al street to the hotel. On the route I resumed the conversation:

"So, uncle, you say the people here are getting ready for a black burying?"

"Yas, ma.s.sa, gwine to bury all dem mis'able free n.i.g.g.as at de Norf."

"Why? What will you do that for?"

"Why for, ma.s.sa! you ax why for!" he exclaimed in surprise.

"I don't know," I rejoined; "I'm a stranger here."

"Well, you see, ma.s.sa, dem boblition n.i.g.g.as up dar hab gone and 'lected a ole darky, dey call Uncle Abe; and Old Abe he'se gwine to come down Souf, and cut de decent n.i.g.g.as' troats. He'll hab a good time--_he will_! My young ma.s.sa's captin ob de sogers, and he'll cotch de ole c.o.o.n, and string him up so high de crows won't scent him; yas, he will;" and again the old darky's face opened till it looked like the entrance to the Mammoth Cave. He, evidently, had read the Southern papers.

Depositing my luggage at the hotel, which I found on a side street--a dilapidated, unpainted wooden building, with a female landlord--I started out to explore the town, till the hour for dinner. Retracing my steps in the direction of the steamboat landing, I found the streets nearly deserted, although it was the hour when the business of the day is usually transacted. Soon I discovered the cause. The militia of the place were out on parade. Preceded by a colored band, playing national airs--in doleful keeping with the occasion--and followed by a motley collection of negroes of all s.e.xes and ages, the company was entering the princ.i.p.al thoroughfare. As it pa.s.sed me, I could judge of the prowess of the redoubtable captain, who, according to Pompey, will hang the President "so high de crows won't scent him." He was a harmless-looking young man, with long, spindle legs, admirably adapted to running. Though not formidable in other respects, there _was_ a certain martial air about an enormous sabre which hung at his side, and occasionally got entangled in his nether integuments, and a fiery, warlike look to the heavy tuft of reddish hair which sprouted in bristling defiance from his upper lip.

The company numbered about seventy, some with uniforms and some without, and bearing all sorts of arms, from the old flint-lock musket to the modern revolving rifle. They were, however, st.u.r.dy fellows, and looked as if they might do service at "the imminent deadly breach." Their full ranks taken from a population of less than five hundred whites, told unmistakably the intense war feeling of the community.

Georgetown is one of the oldest towns in South Carolina, and it has a decidedly _finished_ appearance. Not a single building, I was informed, had been erected there in five years. Turpentine is one of the chief productions of the district; yet the cost of white lead and chrome yellow has made paint a scarce commodity, and the houses, consequently, all wear a dingy, decayed look. Though situated on a magnificent bay, a little below the confluence of three n.o.ble rivers, which drain a country of surpa.s.sing richness, and though the centre of the finest rice-growing district in the world, the town is dead. Every thing about it wears an air of dilapidation. The few white men you meet in its streets, or see lounging lazily around its stores and warehouses, appear to lack all purpose and energy. Long contact with the negro seems to have given them his s.h.i.+ftless, aimless character.

The ordinance of secession pa.s.sed the legislature shortly prior to my arrival, and, as might be expected, the political situation was the all-engrossing topic of thought and conversation. In the estimation of the whites a glorious future was about to open on the little state.

Whether she stood alone, or supported by the other slave states, she would a.s.sume a high rank among the nations of the earth; her cotton and rice would draw trade and wealth from every land, and when she spoke, creation would tremble. Such overweening state pride in _such_ a people--s.h.i.+ftless, indolent, and enervated as they are--strikes a stranger as in the last degree ludicrous; but when they tell you, in the presence of the black, whose strong brawny arm and sinewy frame show that in him lies the real strength of the state, that this great empire is to be built on the shoulders of the slave, your smile of incredulity gives way to an expression of pity, and you are tempted to ask if those sinewy machines may not THINK, and some day rise, and topple down the mighty fabric which is to be reared on their backs!

Among the "peculiar inst.i.tutions" of the South are its inns. I do not refer to the pinchbeck, imitation St. Nicholas establishments, which flourish in the larger cities, but to those home-made affairs, noted for hog and hominy, corn-cake and waffles, which crop out here and there in the smaller towns, the natural growth of Southern life and inst.i.tutions.

A model of this cla.s.s is the one at Georgetown. Hog, hominy, and corn-cake for breakfast; waffles, hog, and hominy for dinner; and hog, hominy, and corn-cake for supper--and such corn-cake, baked in the ashes of the hearth, a plentiful supply of the grayish condiment still clinging to it!--is its never-varying bill of fare. I endured this fare for a day, _how_, has ever since been a mystery to me, but when night came my experiences were indescribable. Retiring early, to get the rest needed to fit me for a long ride on the morrow, I soon realized that "there is no rest for the wicked," none, at least, for sinners at the South. Scarcely had my head touched the pillow when I was besieged by an army of red-coated secessionists, who set upon me without mercy. I withstood the a.s.sault manfully, till "bleeding at every pore," and then slowly and sorrowfully beat a retreat. Ten thousand to one is greater odds than the gallant Anderson encountered at Sumter. Yet I determined not to fully abandon the field. Placing three chairs in a row, I mounted upon them, and in that seemingly impregnable position hurled defiance at the enemy, in the words of Scott (slightly altered to suit the occasion):

"Come one, come all, these chairs shall fly From their firm base as soon as I."

My exultation, however, was of short duration. The persistent foe, scaling my intrenchments, soon returned to the a.s.sault with redoubled vigor, and in utter despair I finally fled. Groping my way through the hall, and out of the street-door, I departed. The Sable Brother--alias the Son of Ham--alias the Image of G.o.d carved in Ebony--alias the Oppressed Type--alias the Contraband--alias the Irrepressible n.i.g.g.e.r--alias the Chattel--alias the Darky--alias the Cullud Pusson--had informed me that I should find the Big Bugs at that hotel. I had found them.

Staying longer in such a place was out of the question, and I determined to make my way to the up-country without longer waiting for Jim. With the first streak of day I sallied out to find the means of locomotion.

The ancient town boasts no public conveyance, except a one-horse gig that carries the mail in tri-weekly trips to Charleston. That vehicle, originally used by some New England doctor, in the early part of the past century, had but one seat, and besides, was not going the way I intended to take, so I was forced to seek a conveyance at a livery-stable. At the only livery establishment in the place, kept by a "cullud pusson," who, though a slave, owns a stud of horses that might, among a people more _movingly_ inclined, yield a respectable income, I found what I wanted--a light Newark buggy, and a spanking gray. Provided with these, and a darky driver, who was to accompany me to my destination, and return alone, I started. A trip of seventy miles is something of an undertaking in that region, and quite a crowd gathered around to witness our departure, not a soul of whom, I will wager, will ever hear the rumble of a stage-coach, or the whistle of a steam-car, in those sandy, deserted streets.

We soon left the village, and struck a broad avenue, lined on either side by fine old trees, and extending in an air-line for several miles.

The road is skirted by broad rice-fields, and these are dotted here and there by large antiquated houses, and little collections of negro huts.

It was Christmas week; no hands were busy in the fields, and every thing wore the aspect of Sunday. We had ridden a few miles when suddenly the road sunk into a deep, broad stream, called, as the driver told me, the Black River. No appliance for crossing being at hand, or in sight, I was about concluding that some modern Moses accommodated travellers by pa.s.sing them over its bed dry-shod, when a flat-boat shot out from the jungle on the opposite bank, and pulled toward us. It was built of two-inch plank, and manned by two infirm darkies, with frosted wool, who seemed to need all their strength to sit upright. In that leaky craft, kept afloat by incessant baling, we succeeded, at the end of an hour, in crossing the river. And this, be it understood, is travelling in one of the richest districts of South Carolina!

We soon left the region of the rice-fields, and plunged into dense forests of the long-leafed pine, where for miles not a house, or any other evidence of human occupation, is to be seen. Nothing could well be more dreary than a ride through such a region, and to while away the tedium of the journey I opened a conversation with the driver, who up to that time had maintained a respectful silence.

He was a genuine native African, and a most original and interesting specimen of his race. His thin, close-cut lips, straight nose and European features contrasted strangely with a skin of ebon blackness, and the quiet, simple dignity of his manner betokened superior intelligence. His story was a strange one. When a boy, he was with his mother, kidnapped by a hostile tribe, and sold to the traders at Cape Lopez, on the western coast of Africa. There, in the slave-pen, the mother died, and he, a child of seven years, was sent in the slave-s.h.i.+p to Cuba. At Havana, when sixteen, he attracted the notice of a gentleman residing in Charleston, who bought him and took him to "the States." He lived as house-servant in the family of this gentleman till 1855, when his master died, leaving him a legacy to a daughter. This lady, a kind, indulgent mistress, had since allowed him to "hire his time," and he then carried on an "independent business," as porter, and doer of all work around the wharves and streets of Georgetown. He thus gained a comfortable living, besides paying to his mistress one hundred and fifty dollars yearly for the privilege of earning his own support. In every way he was a remarkable negro, and my three days' acquaintance with him banished from my mind all doubt as to the capacity of the black for freedom, and all question as to the disposition of the slave to strike off his chains when the favorable moment arrives. From him I learned that the blacks, though pretending ignorance, are fully acquainted with the questions at issue in the pending contest. He expressed the opinion, that war would come in consequence of the stand South Carolina had taken; and when I said to him: "But if it comes you will be no better off. It will end in a compromise, and leave you where you are." He answered: "No, ma.s.sa, 't wont do dat. De Souf will fight hard, and de Norf will get de blood up, and come down har, and do 'way wid de _cause_ ob all de trubble--and dat am de n.i.g.g.a."

"But," I said, "perhaps the South will drive the North back; as you say, they will fight hard."

"Dat dey will, ma.s.sa, dey'm de fightin' sort, but dey can't whip de Norf, 'cause you see dey'll fight wid only one hand. When dey fight de Norf wid de right hand, dey'll hev to hold de n.i.g.g.a wid de leff."

"But," I replied, "the blacks wont rise; most of you have kind masters and fare well."

"Dat's true, ma.s.sa, but dat an't freedom, and de black lub freedom as much as de white. De same blessed LORD made dem both, and HE made dem all 'like, 'cep de skin. De blacks hab strong hands, and when de day come you'll see dey hab heads, too!"

Much other conversation, showing him possessed of a high degree of intelligence, pa.s.sed between us. In answer to my question if he had a family, he said: "No, sar. My blood shall neber be slaves! Ole ma.s.sa flog me and threaten to kill me 'cause I wouldn't take to de wimmin; but I tole him to kill, dat 't would be more his loss dan mine."

I asked if the negroes generally felt as he did, and he told me that many did; that nearly all would fight for their freedom if they had the opportunity, though some preferred slavery because they were sure of being cared for when old and infirm, not considering that if their labor, while they were strong, made their masters rich, the same labor would afford _them_ provision against old age. He told me that there are in the _district_ of Georgetown twenty thousand blacks, and not more than two thousand whites, and "Suppose," he added, "dat one-quarter ob dese n.i.g.g.as rise--de rest keep still--whar den would de white folks be?"

"Of course," I replied, "they would be taken at a disadvantage; but it would not be long before aid came from Charleston, and you would be overpowered."

"No, ma.s.sa, de chivarly, as you call dem, would be 'way in Virginny, and 'fore dey hard of it Ma.s.sa Seward would hab troops 'nough in Georgetown to chaw up de hull state in less dan no time."

"But you have no leaders," I said, "no one to direct the movement. Your race is not a match for the white in generals.h.i.+p, and without generals, whatever your numbers, you would fare hardly."

To this he replied, an elevated enthusiasm lighting up his face, "De LORD, ma.s.sa, made generals ob Gideon and David, and de brack man know as much 'bout war as dey did; p'raps," he added, with a quiet humor, "de brack aint equal to de white. I knows most ob de great men, like Was.h.i.+ngton and John and James and Paul, and dem ole fellers war white, but dar war Two Sand (Tousaint L'Overture), de Brack Dougla.s.s, and de n.i.g.g.a Demus (Nicodemus), dey war brack."

The argument was unanswerable, and I said nothing. If the day which sees the rising of the Southern blacks comes to this generation, that negro will be among the leaders. He sang to me several of the songs current among the negroes of the district, and though of little poetic value, they interested me, as indicating the feelings of the slaves. The blacks are a musical race, and the readiness with which many of them improvise words and melody is wonderful; but I had met none who possessed the readiness of my new acquaintance. Several of the tunes he repeated several times, and each time with a new accompaniment of words. I will try to render the sentiment of a few of these songs into as good negro dialect as I am master of, but I cannot hope to repeat the precise words, or to convey the indescribable humor and pathos which my darky friend threw into them, and which made our long, solitary ride through those dreary pine-barrens pa.s.s rapidly and pleasantly away. The first referred to an old darky who was transplanted from the cotton-fields of "ole Virginny" to the rice-swamps of Carolina, and who did not like the change, but found consolation in the fact that rice is not grown on "the other side of Jordan."

"Come listen, all you darkies, come listen to my song, It am about ole Ma.s.sa, who use me bery wrong.