CHAPTER XXX.
YELLOW STEVE'S MYSTERIOUS STORY.
"My name is Jeff. Winnings, and I was born in the State of SouthCarolina, a slave owned by Wade Hampton. My father, I have been told,was a Seminole Indian. I have little recollection of my mother, as I wastorn from her, when but little more than two years old, and sold to aman in Kentucky. Here I lived until the age of twelve, when, my masterdying, his property was divided, and I was taken by a son of his toMissouri, in the county of Pike. I found this man an excellent master,he always treated me kindly, and, as I picked up a little knowledge ofbooks, he encouraged me and furnished me means to improve my mind aftermy day's work was done.
"It was through his kindness, that I, a slave, learned to read andwrite, which now enables me to record the history of my dark career, fardarker than heaven made my face. I lived with him until I was eighteenyears of age, and was at one time well known about Bowling Green,Missouri, as Yellow Jeff. Then my master became financially embarrassed,and I, with his other slaves, was sold at a sheriff's sale.
"A professional negro-buyer, one of the most detestable class of menthat God ever created, purchased me, and I was taken to North Carolinaand sold to Mr. Henry Tompkins--"
"Great God!" gasped Abner, the manuscript falling from his hands. "Wasthat man connected with my Uncle's murder?" He sprang to his feet andpaced the floor, but finally forced himself to pick up the manuscriptand resume.
"Mr. Tompkins was a man of very hasty temper and, although he was ofNorthern birth, he was a harsh master.
"Among the slaves he owned was a beautiful quadroon, named Maggie, andan attachment sprang up between us. I loved her with all my heart, andshe loved me as earnestly. White people, who think that the tenderemotions are only for their own race, are much mistaken. I, who had theblood of two savage nations in my veins, loved as wildly, fiercely, andyet as tenderly as any white man that ever lived. Maggie loved me asfervently as I did her. The little education, I had picked up from mymaster in Missouri, made me the hero in the negro quarters. Oftentimes,in the balmy Southern nights, when the day's work was over, have I takenmy banjo and sat by the side of my pretty quadroon, pretty to me,whatever she may have been to others, and played those old,long-forgotten songs.
"Our overseer was hard on us, and the tasks we accomplished werewonderful--they seem impossible now for even negroes to have performed.Yet darkness never found me too tired to take my accustomed place byMaggie's side. When I was twenty-one, I was a strong, athletic man. Noone on the plantation could equal me for strength or activity. Two orthree times had the overseer tied me to a post and used his whip on mefor some very trifling matter. On such occasions I felt the rising in myheart of that wild thirst for blood, which afterward proved my ruin. Iwas called 'Indian Jeff,' 'Proud Jeff,' and 'Dandy Jeff,' and theoverseer, who seemed to have a special grudge against me, used todeclare that he would whip the pride out of me.
"I could have borne all their beatings and ill treatment, and have livedpeaceably the life of a slave, until death or Abraham Lincoln'sproclamation had set me free, had not my master given me a blow, thatwas worse than death. When I was twenty-one, Maggie and I were married,in sight of heaven, though the law said negroes can not marry, and wereas happy as persons in perpetual bondage could be. She sympathized withme and I with her. I can not see now how we could have been so happythen. There was no promise in the future, but slavery, toil, and thelash. Our only hope of release was death, yet we were happy in eachother's love.
"We laughed at the threatened lash and sang at our work from morninguntil night. I toiled in the cotton fields, and Maggie was employed inthe planter's mansion. It was cotton-picking time, a few months afterour marriage, and, the crop being unusually large, my master sent mywife to work in the field. She came gladly and asked permission to workby my side. I also pleaded for this privilege, promising to do the workof two men, if our prayer was granted.
"Our master ordered us away to the field and said that the overseerwould arrange that. Scarcely had the overseer set eyes on my beautifulquadroon wife than I trembled. I saw an evil purpose in his dark eye. Herefused our request and placed us on opposite sides of the field. I wentto work sullenly and, although I kept busy, I did but little, tramplingunder foot more cotton than I picked. We had been in the field all day,and the sun was setting, when I heard a shriek from the opposite side ofthe field. The voice I knew well to be Maggie's, and in an instant allmy wild Indian nature was on fire. I flew across the field to find theoverseer beating my wife. Some terrified negroes whispered the cause tome, as I paused, horror-stricken. The overseer had offered someindecencies to her, which she had resented, and now he was punishingher.
"They tried to hold me back, but they might as well have tried to stopthe fires in a volcano. One spring and one blow from my fist laid thevillain senseless on the ground, and snatching up my wife, who hadfainted, I hurried away to our lowly cabin.
"I expected punishment, but not such as came. The next morning bothMaggie and myself were put in irons, and I was compelled to stand bywhile a contract of sale was read, conveying her to a Louisianasugar-planter. Again that wild cry of my heart for vengeance rangthrough every nerve, and I uttered a fearful oath of vengeance as I sawthem bear her away. Her shrieks have rang in my ears ever since.
"For my threat I was tied to a tree, and the lash laid on my bare backby my master, Mr. Henry Tompkins. During the flogging I turned on him,and swore I would have his blood and the blood of his whole family. Itonly augmented my own suffering, however. When Henry Tompkins wasexhausted, he ordered me to be released, and I went sullenly away. Nowords except threats had escaped my lips, and they could not have wrunga groan from me had they cut me into pieces with the cowhide.
"For a few days I remained about the place, planning revenge. I wentabout my work until an opportunity offered, and then ran away. I knewhow vigorous would be the pursuit, and selected a mountain cave, which Ibelieve to be unknown to any one but myself. Here I lived for aboutthree weeks, frequently hearing the bay of the bloodhound and the shoutof the negro-hunter. They evidently gave it up at last, and one night Icame from my hiding-place and went to my master's house. I knew theplace well. I found an ax, and I went in at the front door.
"I will not describe, for I can not, what I did. With the name of Maggieon my lips, and the Indian devil in my heart, I perpetrated a horriblemurder. The baby, a little girl, I spared and picked up with some ofits clothing and carried it away with me. The rest were all struck downby my avenging ax. As I was leaving with the baby, my conscience alreadysmiting me for what I had done, a groan came from the eldest child, aboy. Stooping, I found he was not dead, but that my ax had fractured hisskull. He was between ten and twelve years of age and slender. Isnatched him up, and, having set fire to the house, I put the baby in alarge basket and set off with the wounded boy and the baby girl.
"How I reached the cave, without discovery, no one, not even I, know.The burning mansion doubtless aided me, by calling off all pursuit. HereI remained for a week or two, living I know not how. The boy recoveredfrom the blow, but he was a idiot and had no recollection of his formerlife.
"I had no heart to kill him or the baby now; I had had blood enough, andfor some time was puzzled what to do with the baby and the idiot. Therewas a colored freeman, known as 'Free John,' living near, with his wife.I knew I could trust them, and, one night, I told them all. I knew thatHenry Tompkins had a brother in Virginia, and to him I resolved to takethe children.
"My friends went ahead in their ox-cart, leaving bits of leaves on theroad to indicate which way they had gone. I started after them, with theidiot by my side and carrying the baby in my arms. I had found on someof the baby's clothes the name Irene, which I was careful to preserve,as they might lead to her discovery; a plan I had decided upon when Ishould be far enough out of the way. When in the State of Virginia,about twenty-five miles from Mr. Tompkins' the boy ran away from me, andI did not see him again for years. We had traveled mostly by night andfo
und hiding-places in the cane-brakes during the day time.
"I finally reached the vicinity of Twin Mountains, where I found FreeJohn, and we remained there for two or three days, as we both werenearly exhausted with our long, hard travel. One day, while at his hut,an old hunter, called Uncle Dan, stopped in for a moment and saw thelittle, tired, dirty baby. He looked at it curiously and asked somequestions, which Free John's wife answered, but that very night Icarried it to the mansion of Mr. Tompkins and left it on his porch. Heraised the child, and now she is the wife of his son, and her husbanddoes not know that she is his own cousin. The boy finally wandered tothe same place and lived there and at the cabin of Dan Martin, until hewas accidentally killed by the Union soldiers. He went by the name ofCrazy Joe, on account of his persistently calling himself Joseph.
"John Smith, or Free John, and his wife, Katy, are now living atWheeling, Virginia, and can attest the truth of my story, if it becomesnecessary to prove Irene Tompkins' heirship to her father's estate.
"Since that night, I have been a wanderer through the South, and haveassisted hundreds of my race to reach the North and freedom. I havebecome accustomed to danger and accomplished in woodcraft.
"I have searched the South over, and a hundred times risked my lifetrying to find my Maggie. Only a few weeks ago, I learned that she haddied, years ago, of a broken heart. When you read this, pronounce me afiend if you will, but remember that I was once human. I was maddened,desperate. It was the curse of slavery that caused the horror I haverelated; but now, thank God! when you read this, and I am no more, thecurse is lifted from the land. For the first time in many years I writemy real name,
"JEFF. WINNINGS."
Brother Against Brother; or, The Tompkins Mystery. Page 31