The Land of Bondage

CHAPTER XII

A COLONIAL PLANTATION

'Tis with no very willing heart that I sit down to write, as best I may, the account of the vastly strange and remarkable occurrences that took place in and about my home when I was but a girl of eighteen years of age, it being then the year of our Lord 1728. Yet, since it has to be done, let me address myself to the task as ably as I can, and pray that strength and lucidity may be accorded to me, so that those who, in days to come, shall read that which I set down, may be easily led to understand what I now attempt.

I, Joice Bampfyld, was, as I say, at the period at which I take up my pen, nearing eighteen years of age, and I dwelt at Pomfret Manor, situated, on the southern bank of the James River, in His Majesty's state of Virginia, the estate being some fifty miles inland from the mouth of Chesapeake Bay, and some ten miles south-west of the township of Richmond. On this manor, which had passed into my hands two years before at the decease of my dear and lamented father, who was of the third generation of the Bampfylds settled there, we raised tobacco and corn in large quantities and had good horned cattle and many sheep, while for the fruits of the earth there was no lack, so that my life from the first had ever been one of ease and comfort, and, even in Virginia, we of Pomfret Manor were accounted well-to-do folk. Yet, comfortable as was the existence here, there was still much in our surroundings that disturbed that comfort, as it disturbed the comfort of all our neighbours. Thus, our negro servants were now-a-days not always to be depended on for their fidelity; sometimes they would project insurrections and revolts which, when put into practice, could only be subdued by bloodshed, while our indented or convict servants-I mean the whites-were even still more troublesome, what with their runnings away, their constant endeavours to seduce the blacks from their allegiance, their drunkenness when they could get at drink, and their general depravity. For depraved they were beyond all thought, being most of them convicts from the jails in England who had saved their necks by praying to be sent to Virginia to be sold as plantation-hands, while the remainder were as often as not criminals evading justice, who, in England, had cheerfully sold themselves into four years' slavery (four years being the limit here, though much longer in the sugar-producing islands of the West Indies) so as to escape from the eye of justice and begin a new life in a new land. And, also, amongst them there were defaulting debtors and bankrupts, men who were flying from their wives and children, women who were deserting their husbands, and, sometimes, wretches who, when drunk in the seaport towns at home, had been carried on board and brought to the colonies, where, although they at first resented their kidnapping, they soon settled down to be as great villains as their fellows. Yet, had it not been for these dreadful people, one knows not how the plantations could have been kept prosperous, since certain it is that no free-born Englishman in Virginia, or any other of the colonies, would consent to toil in the fields, while the negroes were so lazy, and, in many cases, so sullen, that little hard work could be got out of them. Indoors the blacks would do their duties cheerfully enough; they loved cooking and nursing; they took pride in polishing and keeping in order the beautiful furniture which our fathers and grandfathers had imported from England, and in looking to the silver and the brasses. They did not even make objection to gardening, keeping our walks and grass plots in excellent order and our rose vines well trained against the walls, but that, with their delight of fiddling at dances and singing of songs, was all that they would do willingly.

Yet these minor troubles were but little and sank into nothingness beside the one great trouble, nay, the awful horror, that was always near us. I mean the Indians. Earlier, in the first Colonial days, the red men had dwelt in some semblance of friendship with our forerunners; they would live in peace with them, sleep by their firesides, eat from their platters, and teach them how to capture all the game of the forests and the fish of the waters. Yet, even then, all this harmony would be occasionally disturbed by a sudden outbreak on their part resulting in a dreadful massacre which, in its turn, resulted in a massacre on the part of the colonists in retaliation. So, as time went on, these two races, the white and red, which had once dwelt as friends together drew away from one another; the Indians retired further into the Alleghany mountains or even crossed them into the unknown land lying west of them, while the colonists made good their holdings on the eastern side of those mountains and defied the red men. But, still, the state of things was most dreadful-most horrible. For though the Indians had withdrawn, and, of late years, had made no great raid on the settlements in our part, one never knew when they were not meditating an attack upon some quiet manor like my own, or some peaceful village consisting of a few scattered houses, or even upon some small town. Men went armed always-at church every man's loaded firelock, or gun, reposed against the side of the pew in which he worshipped-no woman thought of going a mile away from home without an escort, and children who wandered into the woods would often disappear and never be heard of again. So that one would meet weeping mothers and sad-faced looking fathers who mourned their children as dead, nay, who would rather have mourned them as dead than have had to bow to the living fate that had o'ertaken them. For they never came back, or, if they came, 'twas in such a shape that they had better have died than have been taken. One, the child of John Trueby of Whitefountain, did indeed come back fifteen years after he had been stolen by the Shawnees, dressed and painted as an Indian of that tribe, but only to slay his own father with a tomahawk at the direction of those with whom he had become allied. Another, who had been stolen by the Doeg Indians, returned only to his native hamlet to set fire to it, beginning with the wooden frame-house in which his mother and sisters had mourned him for years. Who, therefore, should not tremble at the very name of Indian? Who that had a child should not kneel down and pray to God to take that child's life rather than let it fall into the hands of the savages, where its nature would undergo so awful a change, and amongst whom it would develope into a fiend? For those who once dwelt with the Indians in the mountains, and adopted their customs and habits, became fiends, 'twas said, and nothing else.

This horror, as well as the dread of being surprised and having our houses burnt over our heads, we had always with us, always, always; as well also as the fear of being carried into captivity and tortured; or, in the case of girls like myself, of being subjected to worse than torture. When we lay down to sleep at night we knew not whether we should be awakened ere morning by some one knocking at our door and calling, "The Indians! The Indians!" If we looked forth on to our garden to observe its beauties as it lay in the moonlight, we deemed ourselves fortunate if we did not, some time or other, see the hideous painted face of a savage and his snake-like eyes gleaming at us from behind a tree or bush. Sometimes, also, floating down the river at night, when there was no moon, would be discerned by those who had sharp eyes the canoes of our dreaded foes bent on some awful errand, and full of painted, crouching savages. And then, through the still night air, would ring the ping of bullets discharged from the shore by some of the men who were always on the watch for such visitations; a canoe, or perhaps two, would be sunk, and a day or so afterwards there would be washed ashore the naked bodies of some horrid dyed Indians who had been drowned, or shot, as they were surprised. I do not say 'twas always so, but it was so very frequently, and scarce a summer passed by that we did not have some visits from them, while we ever lived in dread of a determined onslaught from a whole tribe in which not only our farm, plantations, homesteads, or manors should be surrounded by hundreds of our foe, but also entire villages or towns.

Pomfret Manor-named after the village of Pomfret in Dorsetshire, from which my great-grandfather, Simon Bampfyld, had removed to Virginia in the days of King Charles the Second-was the principal house in the lordship or hundred of Pomfret, as 'twas called in English fashion (of which fashions we colonists were always very tenacious), and, as we had thriven exceedingly since first we came, it also gave its name to the village hard by. Now, my great-grandfather having brought considerable money with him from home, had soon become one of the leading colonists, as well as one of the richest, in the neighbourhood. The house itself had once stood in Dorsetshire, and had been taken to pieces there and removed bit by bit to Virginia, as is the case with many other mansions to be found in the colonies. So the dear place in which I was born had seen the birth of many other Bampfylds before me when it existed in England, and was consequently much beloved by us. Constructed of the old red English bricks, with, for its front, a vast portico with columns of white stone, it made a pleasant feature in the landscape, while, with careful training, we had produced a smooth lawn which ran down almost to the banks of the river, and, on either side of it, we had contrived a sweet pleasaunce, or garden. Here there grew amidst the rich Virginian vegetation such flowers-recalling my ancestor's earlier house across the seas-as roses of all kinds, including the Syrian damask and the white alba; here, too, sparkled the calendula, or marigold, and there the wall-flower; while beds of pinks, or, as the flower was called in old days, the Dianthus, added to the patches of colour. Over our big porch, so cool to sit in on the hot days, there grew also the native creepers mingling with the yellow jasmine-a world of gorgeous flowers in the summer and of warm red leaves in the autumn-in which the oriole, or golden thrush, would nestle and rear its young. In the rear of the house was yet another lawn, or plantation, whereon we sat in the summer under the catalpa trees when 'twas too hot to be in the front; where the pigeons cooed from their cote and the cattle munched the soft grass, while, from their kennels, the mastiffs, used for fighting, or, better still, frightening the Indians who could not face them, and for tracing runaway negroes, would be heard baying. Around the grounds came next the belts of pines which were cultivated largely, both for firing and for the making of much household furniture; beyond them were the plantations of tobacco and of rice, which latter had by so fortunate a chance been introduced to our immediate colonies some thirty years ago.

Such was the house in which I was born and reared, such the place in which occurred the stirring incidents which now I have to record. These incidents brought me and mine near unto death; they dealt out suffering and pain to many and punishment and retribution to one villain at least. But, also, they brought to my heart so tender and so sweet a joy, and to him whom I afterwards came to love so deep and cherished a happiness-as he has since many times told me-that on my knees nightly I thank my God that He saw fit in His great goodness to let those incidents take place.

And now I will address myself to all I have to tell.

When my dear father was within two years of his death, though neither he nor any other dreamed of it, so hale and strong did he seem, he and my cousin, Gregory Haller of Whitefountain, set out for Norfolk town one May morning intending to ride there that day, put up for the night, and, on the following day, purchase many things that were wanted for our respective homes; and so back again. Such journeyings were necessary periodically, and took place usually some six or eight times a year, I sometimes riding with them also, if I wanted a new gown or some ribbons imported from England, or a pair of silver-fringed gloves, or, may be, any pretty nick-nack that I should happen to set eyes upon which might grace our saloon or living-room. At other periods, as now, I would be left at home with my companion and tutoress, Miss Mills, a young English lady who had dwelt with us for some two years. She had come to the colonies from Bristol, of which she was a native, in search of employment as a teacher, and with high recommendations, one being from the Bishop of Bath and Wells, a most goodly man as all accounts declared. She liked but little our being left alone without my father, as may well be understood, and having around us nothing but negroes and bought, or indented, white servants; yet, whether we liked it or not it had to be borne as best might be. Both of us could handle pistols, in the use of which my father had perfected us, as was necessary, or might at any instant be necessary; and there were about the house one or two men who could perhaps be relied upon. Such was Mungo, our old negro butler, who, like myself, was of the fourth generation of his race settled in Virginia, since his great-grandfather was brought a slave from Africa and sold to my Lord Baltimore; and there were one or two others of his colour. Yet, as I say, we liked not being alone and, even on the hottest summer nights, would have all the great house carefully closed and barred and shuttered, and would pass our time as best we might by playing and singing at the spinet, or playing at such games as ombre or shove-groat. And Mary Mills and I would huddle ourselves together in my great bed at night for company, and, as we sillily said, for safety, and shiver and shake over every mouse that ran behind the wainscot or at every sound we heard without, dreading that it meant the Indians or a revolt amongst the plantation hands.

Therefore you may be sure that whenever my father and cousin, or my father alone, returned from Norfolk or from Jamestown, we were right glad to see them, and to know that our loneliness as well as our unprotectedness was over for the time; and so 'twas now. They rode in as we were sitting down to our midday meal and, after my father and Gregory had each drunk a good stoup of rum (which we exchange largely for our tobacco with our brother colonists in Jamaica, the men finding it a pleasant, wholesome drink, when mixed with water) the former said:

"So my chicks have not been harried by the Indian foxes this time neither. 'Tis well. And see, now, there are some ships in from home. His Majesty's sloop Terrific is in the Bay, and the girls of Richmond are preparing to give a dance to the officers-thou should'st be there, Joice! – and there is a merchantman from London full of precious stuffs and toys. Yet, since I have no money, I could bring thee nought, my dear."

Here we laughed, for my father ever made this joke preparatory to producing his presents, and I said:

"What have you brought?"

"What have I brought? Well, let me consider. What say you now to a new horloge for the saloon? our old one is getting crazy in its works, as well it may be, since my grandfather brought it from home with him. This one hath Berthould and Mudges' 'scapements, so the captain of the ship told me," my father went on, reading from a piece of paper, "or rather wrote it down, and he guarantees it will be going a hundred years hence. Then, for a silk gown, I have purchased thee some pieces-our own early ventures in Virginian silk were none too successful! – which will become thy fair complexion well, and I have an odd piece of lace or two for a hood. While for you, Miss Mills," with an old-fashioned bow, which I think he must have learnt when young and used to attend Governor Spotswood's receptions, "as you are a dark beauty I have brought also a lace hood, and a new book since you love verse. 'Tis by one Mr. Thomson, and seems to describe the seasons prettily. The captain tells me it has ever a ready sale at home."

Then we thanked him as best we knew how, after which Gregory-who was ever timid and retiring before women, though like a lion, as I have heard others say, when chasing the Indians or a bear or wolf-stepped forward and said:

"And I, too, have brought thee a present, Joice, if thou wilt take it from my hands."

He spoke this way because his heart was sore that I could not love him and would not promise to be his wife, often as he had asked me. Tho', indeed, I did love him as a cousin, nay, as a brother, only he always said it was not that he wanted but a love sweeter and dearer than a sister's.

"I have brought you," he went on, "a filagree bracelet for your arms, tho'," in a lower voice, "they need no adornment. And for thy head a philomot-coloured hood, different in shape from the one uncle has brought. And its russet hue should well become thy golden hair, that looks like the wheat when 'tis a-ripening."

But here I bade him pay me no more compliments lest I should become vain, and then we all sat down to our meal together.

CHAPTER XIII

THE BOND SLAVE

"And now," said my father, after he and Gregory had eaten well of what was on the table, such as most excellent fish from the river, one of our baked hams, potatoes, sweet potatoes, pones and wheaten bread, as well as puddings of papaw, or custard apples.

"And now we have a strange recital to make to you young ladies, the like of which is not often heard, or if heard-for the convict villains and bought servants are capable of any lies-not much believed in."

"What is it?" Mary Mills and I both asked in the same breath. "Tho'," she went on, "perhaps I can guess. Is't some young princess who has come out as a 'convict villain?'" and here she laughed. "Nay, 'twould not be so wonderful. From Bristol in my time there were many went forth who, when they reached here, or the Islands, told marvellous strange stories of their real position-sometimes imposing so much upon the planters that there would come letters home asking if such and such a woman could indeed be the Lady This, or if such and such a man could be the Lord That? Yet they never could procure proofs that such was the case."

My father and Gregory exchanged glances at her words, and then the former said:

"And such a letter I think I must send home. For I have bought to-day a young fellow-as much out of pity as for any use he is like to be, such a poor, starved radish of a young man is he-who protests and swears that 'tis all a mistake his being here, and that some dreadful villainy has been practised on him. For he says that, though not a lord himself, he is the son and heir of one, ay! and of a marquis, too, in the future."

I cried out at this, for my girl's curiosity was aroused, and Miss Mills exclaimed, "'Tis ever the old story. They have talents, these servants, tho' they apply them but ill. They should turn romancers when I warrant that they would outdo such stories as 'Polyxander,' or 'L'Illustre Bassa,' or 'Le Grand Cyrus,' or even the wanderings of Mendes Pinto."

"Yet," said Gregory, "there seems a strain of truth in his words. He speaks like a gentleman," – Gregory had been educated at Harvard, so he was a fitting judge, independently of being a gentleman himself-"and, undoubtedly, no convict from home or rapscallion fleeing from justice would talk as assuredly as he does of his father's anger on those who kidnapped him, or of the certainty of his being sent for by the first ship from Ireland-whence he has come-if he had not some grounds to go upon."