I endeavored to raise the hammer， thinking to showFord how willing I was to work， by proceeding with mylabors on the weaving house， but it fell from my nervelesshand. At dark I crawled into the cabin， and laid down. Iwas in great misery—all sore and swollen—the slightest movement producing excruciating suffering. Soon thehands came in from the field. Rachel， hen she wentafter Lawson， had told them what had happened. Elizaand Mary broiled me a piece of bacon， but my appetitewas gone. Then they scorched some corn meal and madecoffee. It was all that I could take. Eliza consoled me andwas very kind. It was not long before the cabin was full ofslaves. They gathered round me， asking many questionsabout the difficulty with Tibeats in the morning—andthe particulars of all the occurrences of the day. ThenRachel came in， and in her simple language， repeated itover again—dwelling emphatically on the kick that sentTibeats rolling over on the ground—whereupon there wasa general titter throughout the crowd. Then she describedhow Chapin walked out with his pistols and rescued me，and how Master Ford cut the ropes with his knife， just asif he was mad.
By this time Lawson had returned. He had to regalethem with an account of his trip to the Pine Woods—how thebrown mule bore him faster than a “streak o’ lightnin” —howhe astonished everybody as he flew along—how MasterFord started right away—how he said Platt was a goodnigger， and they shouldn’t kill him， concluding withpretty strong intimations that there was not anotherhuman being in the wide world， who could have createdsuch a universal sensation on the road， or performed sucha marvelous John Gilpin feat， as he had done that day onthe brown mule.
The kind creatures loaded me with the expression oftheir sympathy—saying Tibeats was a hard， cruel man，and hoping “Massa Ford” would get me back again. In thismanner they passed the time， discussing， chatting， talkingover end over again the exciting affair， until suddenlyChapin presented himself at the cabin door and called me.
“Platt，” said he， “you will sleep on the floor in the greathouse to-night； bring your blanket with you.”
I arose as quickly as I was able， took my blanket in myhand， and followed him. On the way he informed me thathe should not wonder if Tibeats was back again beforemorning—that he intended to kill me—and that he did notmean he should do it without witnesses. Had he stabbedme to the heart in the presence of a hundred slaves， notone of them， by the laws of Louisiana， could have givenevidence against him. I laid down on the floor in the “greathouse” —the first and the last time such a sumptuousresting place was granted me during my twelve yearsof bondage—and tried to sleep. Near midnight the dogbegan to bark. Chapin arose， looked from the window，but could discover nothing. At length the dog was quiet.
As he returned to his room， he said，
“I believe， Platt， that scoundrel is skulking about thepremises somewhere. If the dog barks again， and I amsleeping， wake me.”
I promised to do so. After the lapse of an hour or more，the dog re-commenced his clamor， running towards thegate， then back again， all the while barking furiously.
Chapin was out of bed without waiting to be called.
On this occasion， he stepped forth upon the piazza， andremained standing there a considerable length of time.
Nothing， however， was to be seen， and the dog returnedto his kennel. We were not disturbed again duringthe night. The excessive pain that I suffered， and thedread of some impending danger， prevented any restwhatever. Whether or not Tibeats did actually returnto the plantation that night， seeking an opportunity towreak his vengeance upon me， is a secret known only tohimself， perhaps. I thought then， however， and have thestrong impression still， that he was there. At all events，he had the disposition of an assassin—cowering beforea brave man’s words， but ready to strike his helpless orunsuspecting victim in the back， as I had reason afterwardsto know.
At daylight in the morning， I arose， sore and weary，having rested little. Nevertheless， after partakingbreakfast， which Mary and Eliza had prepared for mein the cabin， I proceeded to the weaving-house andcommenced the labors of another day. It was Chapin’spractice， as it is the practice of overseers generally，immediately on arising， to bestride his horse， alwayssaddled and bridled and ready for him—the particularbusiness of some slave—and ride into the field. Thismorning， on the contrary， he came to the weaving-house，asking if I had seen anything of Tibeats yet. Replyingin the negative， he remarked there was something not right about the fellow—there was bad blood in him—thatI must keep a sharp watch of him， or he would do mewrong some day when I least expected it.
While he was yet speaking， Tibeats rode in， hitchedhis horse， and entered the house. I had little fear of himwhile Ford and Chapin were at hand， but they could notbe near me always.
Oh！ how heavily the weight of slavery pressed uponme then. I must toil day after day， endure abuse andtaunts and scoffs， sleep on the hard ground， live on thecoarsest fare， and not only this， but live the slave of ablood-seeking wretch， of whom I must stand henceforthin continued fear and dread. Why had I not died in myyoung years—before God had given me children to loveand live for？ What unhappiness and suffering and sorrowit would have prevented. I sighed for liberty； but thebondman’s chain was round me， and could not be shakenoff. I could only gaze wistfully towards the North， andthink of the thousands of miles that stretched betweenme and the soil of freedom， over which a black freemanmay not pass.
Tibeats， in the course of half an hour， walked over tothe weaving-house， looked at me sharply， then returnedwithout saying anything. Most of the forenoon he saton the piazza， reading a newspaper and conversing withFord. After dinner， the latter left for the Pine Woods， andit was indeed with regret that I beheld him depart fromthe plantation.
Once more during the day Tibeats came to me， gaveme some order， and returned.
