Among the Pines Part 34

The road was a mere wagon-track through the trees, and it being but little travelled, and enc.u.mbered with the roots and stumps of the pine, our progress was slow, and we were nearly two hours in reaching the plantation of the native.

The corn-cracker's house--a low, unpainted wooden building--stood near the little stream, and in the centre of a cleared plot of some ten acres. This plot was surrounded by a post-and-rail fence, and in its front portion was a garden, which grew a sufficient supply of vegetables to serve a family of twenty persons. In the rear, and at the sides of the dwelling, were about seven acres, devoted mainly to corn and potatoes. In one corner of the lot were three tidy-looking negro-houses, and close beside them I noticed a low shed, near which a large quant.i.ty of the stalks of the tall, white corn, common to that section, was stacked in the New England fas.h.i.+on. Browsing on the corn-stalks were three sleek, well-kept milch cows, and a goat.

About four hundred yards from the farmer's house, and on the bank of the little run, which there was quite wide and deep, stood a turpentine distillery; and around it were scattered a large number of rosin and turpentine barrels, some filled and some empty. A short distance higher up, and far enough from the "still" to be safe in the event of a fire, was a long, low, wooden shed, covered with rough, unjointed boards, placed upright, and unbattened. This was the "spirit-house," used for the storage of the spirits of turpentine when barrelled for market, and awaiting s.h.i.+pment. In the creek, and filling nearly one-half of the channel in front of the spirit-shed, was a raft of pine timber, on which were laden some two hundred barrels of rosin. On such rude conveyances the turpentine-maker sent his produce to Conwayboro'. There the timber-raft was sold to my way-side friend, Captain B----, and its freight s.h.i.+pped on board vessel for New York. Two "prime" negro men, dressed in the usual costume, were "tending the still;" and a negro woman, as stout and strong as the men, and clad in a short, loose, linsey gown, from beneath which peeped out a pair of coa.r.s.e leggins, was adjusting a long wooden trough, which conveyed the liquid rosin from the "still" to a deep excavation in the earth, at a short distance. In the pit was a quant.i.ty of rosin sufficient to fill a thousand barrels.

"Here, Bill," said Barnes to one of the negro men, as we pulled up at the distillery, "put these critters up, and give 'em sum oats, and when they've cooled off a bit, water 'em."

"Yas, yas, ma.s.sa," replied the negro, springing nimbly forward, and taking the horses by the bridles, "an' rub 'em down, ma.s.sa?"

"Yas, rub 'em down right smart," replied the corn-cracker; then turning to me, as we dismounted, he said: "Stranger, thet's th' sort o' n.i.g.g.e.rs fur ye; all uv mine ar' jess like him--smart and lively as kittens."

"He does seem to go about his work cheerfully," I replied.

"Cheerfully! d----d ef he doant--all on 'em du! They like me better'n thar own young 'uns, an' it's 'cause I use 'em like human bein's;" and he looked slyly toward the Colonel, who just then was walking silently away, in the direction of the run, as if in search of the browned "chattels."

"Not thar, Cunnel," cried the native; "they're inter th' shed;" and he started to lead the way to the "spirit-house."

"Not now, Barnes," I said, putting my hand on his arm: "leave him alone for a little while. He is feeling badly, and we'd better not disturb him just yet."

The native motioned me to a seat on a rosin-barrel, as he replied:

"Wal, he 'pears ter--thet's a fact, and he orter. D----d ef it arn't wicked to use n.i.g.g.e.rs like cattle, as he do."

"I don't think he means to ill-treat them--he's a kind-hearted man."

"Wal, he ar sort o' so; but he's left ev'ry thing ter thet d----d overseer uv his'n. I wudn't ha' trusted him to feed my hogs."

"Hogs!" I exclaimed, laughing; "I supposed you didn't _feed_ hogs in these diggins. I supposed you 'let 'em run.'"

"_I_ doant; an' I've got th' tallest porkys round har."

"I've been told that they get a good living in the woods."

"Wal, p'r'aps the' du jest make eout ter live thar; but my ole 'oman likes 'em ter hum--they clean up a place like--eat up all th' leavin's, an' give th' young nigs suthin' ter du."

"It seems to me," I said, resuming the previous thread of the conversation; "that overseers are a necessity on a large plantation."

"Wal, the' ar', an' thet's why thar ortent ter be no big plantations; G.o.d Almighty didn't make human bein's ter be herded togethar in th'

woods like hogs. No man orter ter hev more'n twenty on 'em--he can't look arter no more himself, an' its agin natur ter set a feller over 'em what hain't no int'rest in 'em, an' no feelin' fur 'em, an' who'll drive 'em round like brutes. I never struck one on 'em in my life, an' my ten du more'n ony fifteen th' Cunnel's got."

"I thought they needed occasional correction. How do you manage them without whipping?"

"Manage them! why 'cordin' ter scriptur--do ter 'em as I'd like ter be dun ter, ef I war a n.i.g.g.e.r. Every one on 'em knows I'd part with my last s.h.i.+rt, an' live on taters an' cow-fodder, fore I'd sell em; an' then I give 'em Sat.u.r.days for 'emselfs--but thet's cute dealin' in me (tho' th'

pore, simple souls doant see it), fur ye knows the' work thet day for 'emselfs, an' raise nigh all thar own feed, 'cept th' beef and whiskey--an' it sort o' makes 'em feel like folks, too, more like as ef the' war _free_--the' work th' better fur it all th' week."

"Then you think the blacks would work better if free?"

"In _course_ I does--its agin man's natur to be a slave. Thet lousy parson ye herd ter meetin, a Sunday, makes slavery eout a divine inst.i.tooshun, but my wife's a Bible 'oman, and she says 'taint so; an'

I'm d----d ef she arn't right."

"Is your wife a South Carolina women?"

"No, she an' me's from th' old North--old Car'tret, nigh on ter Newbern; an' we doant take nat'rally to these fire-eaters."

"Have you been here long?"

"Wal, nigh on ter six yar. I c.u.m har with nuthin' but a thousan' ter my back--slapped thet inter fifteen hun'red acres--paid it down--and then hired ten likely, North Car'lina n.i.g.g.e.rs--hired 'em with th' chance uv buyin' ef the' liked eout har. Wal, th' nigs all know'd me, and the'

sprung ter it like blazes; so every yar I've managed ter buy two on 'em, and now I've ten grow'd up, and thar young'uns; th' still and all th'

traps paid fur, an' ef this d----d secesh bis'ness hadn't a come 'long, I'd hev hed a right smart chance o' doin' well."

"I'm satisfied secession will ruin the turpentine business; you'll be shut up here, unable to sell your produce, and it will go to waste."

"Thet's my 'pinion; but I reckon I kin' manage now witheout turpentime.

I've talked it over 'long with my nigs, and we kalkerlate, ef these ar doin's go eny furder, ter tap no more trees, but clar land an' go ter raisin' c.r.a.ps."

"What! do you talk politics with your negroes?"

"Nary a politic--but I'm d----d ef th' critters doan't larn 'em sumhow; the' knows 'bout as much uv what's goin' on as I du--but plantin arn't politics; its bisness, an' they've more int'rest in it nor I hev, 'cause they've sixteen mouths ter feed agin my four."

"I'm glad, my friend, that you treat them like men: but I have supposed they were not well enough informed to have intelligent opinions on such subjects."

"Informed! wal, I reckon the' is; all uv mine kin read, an' sum on 'em kin write, too. D'ye see thet little nig thar?" pointing to a juvenile coal-black darky of about six years, who was standing before the "still"

fire; "thet ar little devil kin read an' speak like a parson. He's got hold, sumhow, uv my little gal's book o' pieces, an' larned a dozen on 'em. I make him c.u.m inter th' house, once in a while uv an evenin', an'

speechify, an' 'twould do yer soul good ter har him, in his s.h.i.+rt tail, with a old sheet wound round him fur a toger (I've told him th'

play-acters du it so down ter Charles'on), an' spoutin' out: 'My name am Norval; on de Gruntin' hills my fader feed him hogs!' The little c.o.o.n never seed a sheep, an' my wife's told him a flock's a herd, an' he thinks 'hog' _sounds_ better'n 'flock,' so, contra'y ter th' book, he puts in 'hogs,' and hogs, you knows, hev ter grunt, so he gits 'em on th' 'Gruntin hills;" and here the kind-hearted native burst into a fit of uproarious laughter, in which, in spite of myself, I had to join.

When the merriment had somewhat subsided, the turpentine-maker called out to the little darky:

"Come here, Jim."

The young chattel ran to him with alacrity, and wedging in between his legs, placed his little black hands, in a free-and-easy way, on his master's knees, and, looking up trustfully in his face, said:

"Wal, ma.s.sa?"

"What's yer name?"

"Dandy Jim, ma.s.sa."

"Thet arn't all--what's th' rest?"

"Dandy Jim of ole Car'lina."

"Who made ye?"

"De good G.o.d, ma.s.sa."

"No, He didn't: G.o.d doant make little nigs. He makes none but white folks;" said the master, laughing.

"Yas He'm do; Missus say He'm do; dat He make dis nig jess like He done little Totty."