Shortly after this, Mary was one Sunday down in her master’s barn, where she had been sent by her mistress to look for new nests where a number of the hens were supposed to have been laying, as the eggs had not been found elsewhere. While in the barn, Mary was surprised by William Tillotson, her master’s son, who ordered her to take her bed among the hay and submit to his lustful passion. This she strenuously refused to do, telling him of the punishment she had already suffered from her former mistress for a similar act of conduct, and reminding him at the same time of his wife, whose vengeance she would have to dread; but William was not to be put off, nor his base passion to go unsatisfied, by any excuse that Mary could make, so he at once resorted to force. Mary screamed at the top of her voice. Now the negro Dan was just in the act of passing the barn at the time, when he heard Mary’s voice he rushed into the barn, and demanded in a loud voice what was the matter? when, to his horror, he beheld William upon the barn floor, and Mary struggling but in vain to rise. William, instead of desisting from his brutal purpose, with a dreadful oath ordered Dan to clear out; but the sight of the outrage on her whom, I now firmly believe he loved better than his own soul, made poor Dan completely forget himself—and made him forget too, in that fatal moment what he afterwards wished he had remembered. Dan seized a pitchfork and plunged it into young Tillotson’s back; the prongs went in between his shoulders, and one of them had penetrated the left lung. Young Tillotson expired almost immediately, and Dan seeing what he had done, ran off at once to the woods and swamps, and was seen no more for about two months. Mrs. Tillotson, who had heard Mary scream, was on the balcony, and called out to Dan to know the cause, Dan made no reply but took to his heels. Mrs. Tillotson alarmed at this, and suspecting at once that something was wrong, hastened to the barn, followed by William’s wife who happened to be there, and when they saw poor William’s corpse, and Mary standing by, they both fainted. Poor Mary, frightened to death, turned into the house and informed her young mistress, Susannah, of what had happened. Miss Susannah spread the alarm, and called some of the slaves to her assistance. She went to the barn and found her mother and sister-in-law lying in a state of insensibility, and her brother William dead. With the assistance of old Aunt Hannah and several of the female servants, the two ladies were somewhat restored to consciousness; and William was carried into the house by the servants. The Doctor himself was away from home attending one of his patients, who was very sick. When Mrs. Tillotson had somewhat recovered, she sent for Mary and enquired as to how William came by his death in the barn. Mary told the whole story as previously related in the presence of about sixty or seventy of the neighbours, who had collected together on hearing of the murder. Of course Mary’s story met with no credit from her mistress, and poor Mary stood in the eyes of all as an accomplice in the conspiracy to murder young Tillotson. When the doctor arrived it was dark, and after seeing the corpse and hearing from his wife the story that she had made up for him, he called for Mary, but she was nowhere to be found. The house and plantation were searched in all directions, but no Mary was discovered. At last, when they had all given over looking for her, towards midnight, a cart drove up to the door. Doctor, said the driver, I have a dead negro here, and I’m told she belongs to you. The Doctor came out with a lantern, and as I stood by my master’s carriage, waiting for him to come out and go home, the Doctor ordered me to mount the cart and look at the corpse; I did so, and looked full in that face by the light of the lantern, and saw and knew, notwithstanding the horrible change that had been effected by the work of death, upon those once beautiful features, it was Mary. Poor Mary, driven to distraction by what had happened, she had sought salvation in the depths of the Chesapeake Bay that night. Next day the neighbourhood was searched throughout, and the country was placarded for Dan; and Doctor Tillotson and Mr. Burmey, young William’s father-in-law, offered one thousand dollars for him alive, and five hundred for him dead; and although every blackleg in the neighbourhood was on the alert, it was full two months before he was captured. At length poor Dan was caught and brought by the captors to Mr. Burmey’s, where he was tried principally by Burmey’s two sons, Peter and John, and that night was kept in irons in Burmey’s cellar. The next day Dan was led into the field in the presence of about three thousand of us. A staple was driven into the stump of a tree, with a chain attached to it, and one of his handcuffs was taken off and brought through the chain, and then fastened on his hand again. A pile of pine wood was built around him. At eight o’clock the wood was set on fire, and when the flames blazed round upon the wretched man, he began to scream and struggle in a most awful manner. Many of our women fainted, but not one of us was allowed to leave until the body of poor Dan was consumed. The unearthly sounds that came from the blazing pile, as poor Dan writhed in the agonies of death, it is beyond the power of my pen to describe. After a while all was silent, except the cracking of the pine wood as the fire gradually devoured it with the prize that it contained. Poor Dan had ceased to struggle—he was at rest.
Mr. Burmey’s two sons, Peter and John, were the ringleaders in this execution, and the pair of them hardly ever saw a sober day from one month to another; and at the execution of Dan, Peter was so drunk that he came nigh sharing the same fate. It was not a year after the roasting of Dan that the two brothers were thrashing wheat in the barn, which stood about a quarter of a mile from the house, and being in March, and an uncommon windy day, they had taken their demijohn full of brandy in order to keep the cold out of their bones, as it was their belief that a dram or two had that effect; so they were drinking and thrashing and drinking again until they reeled over dead drunk upon the floor. That same night the barn took fire over them. The first thing that excited the alarm of my master’s negroes on Tillotson’s plantation was a black smoke issuing from the barn. Suddenly there was a rush from all parts of the plantation, but it was all to no purpose, for scarcely had we got half way before we saw the flames bursting out on every side of the barn, still we continued to run as fast as we could. When we arrived we found the barn door shut and fastened inside. This Mr. Peter and Mr. John had done to keep out the wind which was very high. When old Mr. Burmey arrived with his daughter-in-law, Peter’s wife, the first thing demanded was, where is your masters?—oh, my children! my children! while Mrs. Peter screamed, my husband! my husband! oh, pa! oh, pa! The strength of the flames inside at length burst open the barn door, when we beheld through the red flames the figures of the two wretched brothers lying side by side dead drunk and helpless upon the floor. The fire rapidly seized upon everything around. At this moment Mrs. Peter Burmey rushed into the flames to save her husband, but just as she attempted to enter, the beam over the door fell in upon her head, and struck her back senseless and suffocated to the ground; but, notwithstanding the most intense hatred to Burmey and his family, we negroes rushed forward to rescue them—but all in vain. After getting miserably scorched we were compelled to retreat and give them over, and with bleeding hearts to behold the fire consume their bodies. The barn was rapidly consigned to ashes, which being speedily swept away by the violence of the wind, left the victims side by side crisped skeletons on the ground. This was the dreadful end of the two chief actors in the roasting of poor Dan.
When I arrived at the age of 20, my master told me I must marry Jane, one of the slaves. We had been about five months married when she gave birth to a child, I then asked who was the father of the child, and she said the master, and I had every reason to believe her, as the child was nearly white, had blue eyes and veins, yet notwithstanding this we lived happily together, and I felt happy and comfortable, and I should never have thought of running away if she had not been sold. We lived together six years and had two children. Shortly after my marriage my master’s wife died, and when he fixed upon Tillotson’s daughter as his future wife, she made a condition that all female slaves whom he had at any time been intimate with must be sold, and my wife being one was sold with the children as well as any other female slaves. My w
ife was sold while I was away on an errand at Centreville, and any one situated as I was may imagine my feelings when I say that I left them in the morning all well and happy, in entire ignorance of any evil, and returned to find them all sold and gone away, and from then until now I have never seen any of them. I went to my master and complained to him, when he told me he knew nothing about it, as it was all done by his wife. I then went to her and she said she knew nothing about, as it was all done by my master, and I could obtain no other satisfaction; I then went to my master to beg him to sell me to the same master as he had sold my wife, but he said he could not do that, as she was sold to a trader.
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