Slave Narratives: a Folk History of Slavery in the United States

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Slave Narratives: a Folk History of Slavery by Various 64An interview with Charlie Crump 82 of Cary (near)I wuz borned at Evan's Ferry in Lee or Chatham County, an' I belonged ter Mr. Davis Abernathy an' his wifeMis' Vick. My pappy wuz named Ridge, an' my mammy wuz named Marthy. My brothers wuz Stokes an'Tucker, an' my sisters wuz Lula an' Liddy Ann. Dar wuz nine o' us in all, but some o' dem wuz sold, an' someo' dem wuz dead.De Abernathy's wuzn't good ter us, we got very little ter eat, nothin' ter wear an' a whole lot o' whuppin's. Deyain't had no slaves 'cept seben or eight, in fact, dey wuz pore white trash tryin' ter git rich; so dey make uswuck.Dey wucks us from daylight till dark, an' sometimes we jist gits one meal a day. De marster says dat emptyniggers am good niggers an' dat full niggers has got de debil in dem. An' we ain't 'lowed ter go nowhar atnight, dat is if dey knowed it. I'se seed de time dat niggers from all ober de neighborhood gang up an' have funanyhow, but if dey hyard de patterollers comin' gallopin' on a hoss dey'd fly. Crap shootin' wuz de style den,but a heap of times dey can't find nothin ter bet.I toted water, case dat's all I wuz big enough ter do, an' lemmie tell yo' dat when de war wuz ober I ain't hadnary a sprig of hair on my haid, case de wooden buckets what I toted on it wored it plumb off.When we got hongry an' could fin' a pig, a calf or a chicken, no matter who it had belonged to, it den belongedter us. We raised a heap o' cane an' we et brown sugar. Hit 's funny dat de little bit dey gibed us wuz what deynow calls wholesome food, an' hit shore make big husky niggers.My mammy had more grit dan any gal I now knows of has in her craw. She plowed a hateful little donkey datwuz about as hongry as she wuz, an' he wuz a cuss if'en dar eber wuz one. Mammy wuz a little brown gal,den, tough as nails an' she ain't axin' dat donkey no odds at all. She uster take him out at twelve an' start fer dehouse an' dat donkey would hunch up his back an' swear dat she wuzn't gwine ter ride him home. Mammywould swear dat she would, an' de war would be on. He'd throw her, but she'd git back on an' atter she'd winde fight he'd go fer de house as fast as a scaulded dog.When we hyard dat de Yankees wuz comin' we wuz skeerd, case Marse Abernathy told us dat dey'd skin usalive. I'members hit wuz de last o' April or de fust o' May when dey comed, an' I had started fer de cane fil'wid a bucket o' water on my haid, but when I sees dem Yankees comin' I draps de bucket an' runs.De folks thar 'bouts burnt de bridge crost de ribber, but de Yankees carried a rope bridge wid 'em, so deycrossed anyhow.Dem Yankees tuck eber thing dat dey saw eben to our kush, what we had cooked fer our supper. Kush wuzcornmeal, onions, red pepper, salt an' grease, dat is if we had any grease. Dey killed all de cows, pigs,chickens an' stold all de hosses an' mules.We wuz glad ter be free, an' lemmie tell yo', we shore cussed ole marster out 'fore we left dar; den we comedter Raleigh. I'se always been a farmer an' I'se made right good. I lak de white folkses an' dey laks me but I'lltell yo' Miss, I'd ruther be a nigger any day dan to be lak my ole white folks wuz.M. A. H. L. E.N. C. District: No. 2 [320050] Worker: Mary Hicks No. Words: 10,018 Subject: BEFORE AND AFTER THEWAR Story Teller: MATTIE CURTIS Editor: George L. Andrews[HW: 8/31/37]
Slave Narratives: a Folk History of Slavery by Various 65BEFORE AND AFTER THE WARAn interview with Mattie Curtis, 98 years old, of Raleigh, North Carolina, Route # 4.I wus borned on de plantation of Mr. John Hayes in Orange County ninety-eight years ago. Seberal of dechilluns had been sold 'fore de speculator come an' buyed mammy, pappy an' we three chilluns. De speculatorwus named Bebus an' he lived in Henderson, but he meant to sell us in de tobacco country.We come through Raleigh an' de fust thing dat I 'members good wus goin' through de paper mill on Crabtree.We traveled on ter Granville County on de Granville Tobacco path till a preacher named Whitfield buyed us.He lived near de Granville an' Franklin County line, on de Granville side.Preacher Whitfield, bein' a preacher, wus supposed to be good, but he ain't half fed ner clothed his slaves an'he whupped 'em bad. I'se seen him whup my mammy wid all de clothes offen her back. He'd buck her downon a barrel an' beat de blood outen her. Dar wus some difference in his beatin' from de neighbors. De folksround dar 'ud whup in de back yard, but Marse Whitfield 'ud have de barrel carried in his parlor fer de beatin'.We ain't had no sociables, but we went to church on Sunday an' dey preached to us dat we'd go ter hell aliveiffen we sassed our white folks.Speakin' 'bout clothes, I went as naked as Yo' han' till I wus fourteen years old. I wus naked like dat when mynature come to me. Marse Whitfield ain't carin', but atter dat mammy tol' him dat I had ter have clothes.Marse Whitfield ain't never pay fer us so finally we wus sold to Mis' Fanny Long in Franklin County. Dat'oman wus a debil iffen dar eber wus one. When I wus little I had picked up de fruit, fanned flies offen detable wid a peafowl fan an' nussed de little slave chilluns. De las' two or three years I had worked in de fiel'but at Mis' Long's I worked in de backer factory.Yes mam, she had a backer factory whar backer wus stemmed, rolled an' packed in cases fer sellin'. Dey saiddat she had got rich on sellin' chawin' terbacker.We wus at Mis' Long's when war wus declared, 'fore dat she had been purty good, but she am a debil now.Her son am called ter de war an' he won't go. Dey comes an' arrests him, den his mammy tries ter pay him out,but dat ain't no good.De officers sez dat he am yaller an' dat day am gwine ter shoot his head off an' use hit fer a soap gourd. DeYankees did shoot him down here at Bentonville an' Mis' Long went atter de body. De Confederates has gotde body but dey won't let her have it fer love ner money. Dey laughs an' tells her how yaller he am an' deyburies him in a ditch like a dog.Mis' Long has been bad enough fore den but atter her son is dead she sez dat she am gwine ter fight till shedraps dead. De nex' day she sticks de shot gun in mammy's back an' sez dat she am gwine ter shoot her dead.Mammy smiles an' tells her dat she am ready ter go. Mis' Long turns on me an' tells me ter go ter de peachtree an' cut her ten limbs 'bout a yard long, dis I does an' atter she ties dem in a bundle she wears dem out onme at a hundret licks. Lemmie tell yo', dar wus pieces of de peach tree switches stickin' all in my bloody backwhen she got through.Atter dat Mis' Long ain't done nothin' but whup us an' fight till she shore nuff wore out.De Yankee captain come ter our place an tol' us dat de lan' was goin' ter be cut up an' divided among deslaves, dey would also have a mule an' a house apiece.
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