Bullwhip Days by James Mellon

Author:James Mellon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grove Atlantic

PLATE 20: A former slave.

My earliest recollection is the day that my old boss presented me to his son as his own property. I was about five years old, and my new master was only two.

The master's name was usually adopted by the slave after he was set free. This was done more because it was the logical thing to do and the easiest way to be identified than it was through affection for the master. Also, the government seemed to be in a almighty hurry to have us get names. We had to register as someone so we would be citizens. Well, I got to thinking about all us slaves that was going to take the name Fitzpatrick. I made up my mind I'd find me a different one. One of my grandfathers in Africa was called Jeaceo, and so I decided to be Jackson.

Lots of old slaves close the door before they tell the truth about their days of slavery. When the door is open, they tell how kind their masters were and how rosy it all was. You can't blame them for this, because they had plenty of early discipline, making them cautious about saying anything uncomplimentary about their masters. I myself was in a little different position than most slaves and, as a consequence, have no grudge or resentment. However, I can tell you that the life of the average slave was far from rosy. They were dealt out plenty of cruel suffering. But slavery, I believe, had a more degrading influence upon slave owners than it had upon the slaves.

Even with my good treatment, I spent most of my time planning and thinking of running away. I could have done it easy, but my old father used to say, “No use running from bad to worse, hunting better.” Lots of colored boys did escape and joined the Union army, and there are plenty of them today still drawing a pension for deserting the Confederacy.

My father was always counseling me. He said, “Every man has to serve God under his own vine and fig tree.” He kept pointing out that the War wasn't going to last forever, but that our forever was going to be spent living among the Southerners after they got licked. He would cite examples of how the whites would stand flat-footed and fight for the blacks the same as they would for members of their own family. I knew that all that was true; but still, from inside me, I rebelled. I think I really was afraid to run away, because I thought my own conscience would haunt me. My father knew I felt this way, and he would rub my fears in deeper. One of his remarks still rings in my ears: ‘A clear conscience opens bowels, and when you have a guilty soul it ties you up and death will not for long desert you.”

No, sir. I haven't had any education. I should have had one, though. My old missus was sorry, after the War, that she didn't teach me.

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