Twelve Years a Slave

of whom I must stand henceforth in continued fear and dread. Why had I not died in my young years — before God had given me children to love and live for? What unhappiness and suffering and sorrow it would have prevented. I sighed for liberty; but the bondman’s chain was round me, and could not be shaken off. I could only gaze wistfully towards the North, and think of the thousands of miles that stretched between me and the soil of freedom, over which a black freeman may not pass.
    Tibeats, in the course of half an hour, walked over to the weaving-house, looked at me sharply, then returned without saying anything. Most of the forenoon he sat on the piazza, reading a newspaper and conversing with Ford. After dinner, the latter left for the Pine Woods, and it was indeed with regret that I beheld him depart from the plantation.
    Once more during the day Tibeats came to me, gave me some order, and returned.
    During the week the weaving-house was completed — Tibeats in the meantime making no allusion whatever to the difficulty — when I was informed he had hired me to Peter Tanner, to work under another carpenter by the name of Myers. This announcement was received with gratification, as any place was desirable that would relieve me of his hateful presence.
    Peter Tanner, as the reader has already been informed, lived on the opposite shore, and was the brother of Mistress Ford. He is one of the most extensive planters on Bayou Boeuf, and owns a large number of slaves.
    Over I went to Tanner’s, joyfully enough. He had heard of my late difficulties — in fact, I ascertained the flogging of Tibeats was soon blazoned far and wide. This affair, together with my rafting experiment, had rendered me somewhat notorious. More than once I heard it said that Platt Ford, now Platt Tibeats — a slave’s name changes with his change of master — was “a devil of a nigger.” But I was destined to make a still further noise, as will presently be seen, throughout the little world of Bayou Boeuf.
    Peter Tanner endeavored to impress upon me the idea that he was quite severe, though I could perceive there was a vein of good humor in the old fellow, after all.
    “You’re the nigger,” he said to me on my arrival — “You’re the nigger that flogged your master, eh? You’re the nigger that kicks, and holds carpenter Tibeats by the leg, and wallops him, are ye? I’d like to see you hold me by the leg — I should. You’re a ‘portant character — you’re a great nigger — very remarkable nigger, ain’t ye? I’d lash you — I’d take the tantrums out of ye. Jest take hold of my leg, if you please. None of your pranks here, my boy, remember that. Now go to work, you kickin’ rascal,” concluded Peter Tanner, unable to suppress a half-comical grin at his own wit and sarcasm.
    After listening to this salutation, I was taken charge of by Myers and labored under his direction for a month, to his and my own satisfaction.
    Like William Ford, his brother-in-law, Tanner was in the habit of reading the Bible to his slaves on the Sabbath, but in a somewhat different spirit. He was an impressive commentator on the New Testament. The first Sunday after my coming to the plantation, he called them together, and began to read the twelfth chapter of Luke. When he came to the 47th verse, he looked deliberately around him, and continued — “And that servant which knew his lord’s will,” — here he paused, looking around more deliberately than before, and again proceeded — “which knew his lord’s will, and prepared not himself” — here was another pause — “prepared not himself, neither did according to his will, shall be beaten with many stripes.”
    “D’ye hear that?” demanded Peter, emphatically. “Stripes,” he repeated, slowly and distinctly, taking off his spectacles, preparatory to making a few remarks.
    “That nigger that don’t take care — that don’t obey his lord — that’s his master — d’ye see? — that ‘ere nigger shall be beaten with many stripes. Now, ‘many’ signifies a great many — forty, a hundred, a hundred and fifty lashes. That’s Scripter!” and so Peter continued to elucidate the subject for a great length of time, much to the edification of his sable audience.
    At the conclusion of the exercises, calling up three of his slaves, Warner, Will and Major or, he cried out to me —
    “Here, Platt, you held Tibeats by the legs; now I’ll see if you can hold these