OLD MASSA'S PEOPLE by Orland Kay Armstrong

Author:Orland Kay Armstrong [Armstrong, Orland Kay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Nonfiction, History, Americas, United States, Civil War Period (1850-1877), Social & Cultural Studies, Social Science, Discrimination & Race Relations
ISBN: 9781637523834
Google: NgoSAAAAYAAJ
Publisher: American Freedom Publications LLC
Published: 2021-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

Coachman

Out near Monticello, Florida, lives Uncle Herbert Lane, whose father was Friday Lane, coachman for the great Major Bellamy. It is Uncle Herbert’s earnest conviction that in the horse-and-carriage days men lived more nobly and grandly; that the easy life of these latter decadent times bids fair to wipe out the breed of men of iron who do things, such as Major Bellamy was. There is no doubt that the Bellamy name was one to conjure with out in West Florida during the middle of the last century. Settling out there when the century was still young and the state a wilderness, Bellamy built up an estate rivaling those of the feudal barons in extent and wealth.

Over to the east was St. Augustine. Far over to the west of that long, narrow domain lay Pensacola. The great wilderness of pine, oak, mangrove, of lakes, rivers, swamps, sand and sunshine in the unexplored peninsula didn’t count for much as yet. It was a part of Florida, but too remote to think much about. What the territory wanted was a road from Tallahassee to St. Augustine.

Jack Bellamy built it with his own slave labor. It took several years of terrific work. A roadbed had to be constructed with picks and shovels. The work went on to the accompaniment of cracking whips, straining muscles, and the ever-present moanful chant of song from thick black lips.

The road was finished and the government asked Bellamy what was due him. He said he wanted some land-about forty thousand acres would be all right. He got it. On that vast estate Major Bellamy set up a mansion and lived like a king. His road, by the way, remained in use for nearly a century, and only a few years ago was partially abandoned in favor of the straighter and firmer concrete of this day of good highways.

So it was quite a distinction for a man to be Major Bellamy’s coachman, Uncle Herbert asserts. And his father, he makes plain, was ‘gran’ coachman fo’ de Major.” There were grand coachmen, and minor coachmen. The lesser coachmen drove the not-so-important carriages, carrying the young folk to school, the women folk to markets, the relatives on visits. It goes without saying that the grand coach-man drove the family on formal occasions, and piloted the master on his journeyings from one plantation to another, to the court-house, to business and social engagements. Major Bellamy was indeed driven in state.

"Major, he say, ‘Friday! De kerriage!’ ‘Yas suh, Massa Major!’ Pappy say. I recollec’ how dey rode off in gran’ style. Major was a fine-lookin’ man. He climb in de coach, an’ ’way dey go. Pappy wearin’ big black hat an’ black coat. He could manage de high-spurrited hosses jus’ lak you han’le a baby!

“Pappy come back from de trips, an’ laugh at what de ole Major say. He don’ like Monticello, caise it’s sech er small town in dem days, so de Major call up to Pappy, ‘Friday! Friday! Drive like de

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