Billy Boy (21 page)

Making apologies, Depee turned and coughed again. “Elijah, we thank the good Lord that you reached our society safely. I understand that you have been running for several weeks. The committee wants to hear from your own lips who held you in bondage, how you were treated, what prompted you to escape, and who that is near and dear to you is left behind. And we want nothing more than to help you gain your rightful freedom.” He hesitated and glanced around the room. “If you are ready, Elijah, Mr. Still will begin the questioning.”

Still leaned back in his chair, turned to Elijah, and offered a faint smile. “Are you comfortable, Elijah?”

“Yes, suh,” he answered, despite the quivering in his voice.

“Good.” Still explained that he would be writing notes during the interview and reminded Elijah that any of the members seated at the table might ask questions of him as well. “So, Elijah, please tell the committee, what is your last name?”

“Hill.”

Still looked thoughtfully at him. “Then your full name is Elijah Hill?”

“Pappy call me Elijah Robeson Hill—after my mama's granpappy.”

“Then I will record your name as Elijah Robeson Hill. And what is your pappy's first name?” Still dipped his pen into an inkwell.

“His name be Solomon.”

“Solomon,” Still repeated. “Tell us about your mama—what was her full name?”

Elijah drew a deep breath and stirred uncomfortably in his chair. After a moment he spoke. “My mama called Elisha—so she name me Elijah. My mama die when Elijah only two. My pappy raised me.”

“Do you know how your mama died, Elijah?” Still asked.

“Pappy say one day she real sick pickin' corn. He say overseer come by and leave her be, right there in the field. Just walk away. Say she gonna die nohow—got the fever. But my pappy stop work and carry my mama to the hut and lay her down. Mama don't die in no cornfield, he say.” Elijah lowered his head. “Elijah don't remember his mama.”

“I'm sorry about your mama, Elijah.” Still glanced at the other members of the committee. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“No, suh. My baby sister, Lydia, she die right off.”

“You mean in childbirth, Elijah?”

“No, suh. My mama have a baby girl. Pappy say baby all fine. Then my mama sleepin' and when she wake up, she fin' that she rolled over on my baby sister and she dead. Pappy say my mama know what she done—so Lydia don't be a slave. He say mama's heart break nohow.”

Still bit his lower lips and took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said in a low tone. “We have heard of such things before. How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“And this Ramsey was your master?”

“Yes, suh. 'Til he sell Elijah.” Elijah blinked, squirmed uncomfortably in the chair, and rubbed his temples with the palms of his hands. When he looked up, William Still had a puzzled expression on his face.

“Perhaps we will talk more about Master Ramsey at this time,” Still said. “What were your living arrangements there, Elijah?”

“You mean where Elijah sleep?”

“Yes, that is what I mean.”

“Pappy and me live in the log hut. It all right. Elijah have a bed. All Mastuh's slaves live in huts near Mastuh's house.”

“How were you treated by Master Ramsey?” asked Jacob White as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His brown face was friendly; his close beard was flecked with gray.

“Mastuh treat slaves pretty good, suh. Most times.”

“Most times? Then you were whipped by this master?”

“Yes, suh. When Elijah do wrong.”

“Such as?” White asked.

Elijah hesitated for a moment, twisting his hands. “Mastuh, he work right in the field with us most days. One time Elijah broke the hook on the horse plough. Mastuh took a fit so he whupped me in the wheat field.”

“What did he whip you with?”

“Hickory stick he gone and broke off.”

“Did he do this often?” asked Still.

“No, suh. He pretty good.”

“What was his wife like?”

“Missus Ramsey? She real nice missus.”

“What work did the master do?”

“Mastuh? He grow wheat and corn for the market.”

“Did you want to run away from Master Ramsey?” asked Edwin Coates.

Elijah grew nervous at the question. The white man's face was long and harsh-looking, but his husky voice was kind. He shot a worried glance at William Still.

“There is nothing to fear in your answer, Elijah,” Still whispered.

Elijah took a deep breath. “No, suh. Mastuh, he not so bad—only sometimes. Mastuh Ramsey even give slaves shoes, but after a time he didn't have no mo' money.”

Coates shook his head. “No shoes,” he mumbled under his breath. “And how long were you at the Ramsey farm?”

“Elijah born there.”

“And your pappy, is he still there?”

“Yes, suh. Pappy stay 'cause he not strong no mo'.”

“Where is this farm?”

“Durham, North Carolina.”

It was the white man again. “While you were at Master Ramsey's, Elijah, did you ever have any chance for schooling?”

“Oh no, suh. Elijah only walk Mastuh's chillun to school sometimes.”

“Can you write your name?”

“No, suh.”

Still tapped his fingers lightly on the table and glanced at the other members, hesitating before he asked the next question. “Elijah, you told us you were sold. To whom were you sold?”

“Mastuh Fowler.”

“Do you know why Master Ramsey sold you to Master Fowler?”

“Yes, suh. Mastuh have hard times when the drought come. He say he need mo' money 'cause he got debts. That why Elijah didn't have no shoes.” Suddenly he looked down at his feet and smiled. “Missus Johanna go and buy shoes for Elijah.”

“How much were you sold for, Elijah?”

“Mastuh say he get fifteen hundred dollars when he sell me. White folk say Elijah stronger then most slaves—strong like his pappy.”

Still scrawled his pen busily across the paper. Nathaniel Depee pushed back his chair, walked over to the hearth, and tossed another log onto the fire. Flames spiraled up the brick flume. He pulled a pipe from his suit pocket, tapped it against the stone hearth, and with a small silver pin pushed a wad of tobacco into the bowl.

Still glanced up from his writing, and at his nod, Nathaniel walked back to the table. “Elijah, we want to ask you some questions about Master Fowler now,” Still said.

Elijah shook his head back and forth before lowering his chin to his chest, his eyes pinched closed. He saw the ruddy face of Buckra, his whiskey breath laughing with each violent crack of the whip. The image boiled in his memory.

He turned to Still. “Elijah don't want to talk about this no mo'.”

Still leaned back and tossed the pen onto the table. “I know it's difficult, Elijah. But it really will help you to talk about him. He wasn't like Master Ramsey, was he?”

“No, Mistah Still.”

“Is Fowler the reason you ran away?”

“Yes, suh. Mastuh and Buckra. He the overseer.”

“How long were you at Master Fowler's before you escaped?”

“Ol' Joe say Elijah there three months' time.”

“Three months? Not such a long time with a new slaveholder,” said Charles Wise.

Confused by the white man's comment, Elijah fidgeted in his seat, turned, and looked at Billy and Anna. Anna twisted a lace handkerchief in her lap. Billy chewed on his thumbnail.

After an awkward silence, William Still leaned over and spoke in a hushed tone to Nathaniel Depee. Elijah watched as
the committee members whispered among each other, finally nodding their heads at William Still.

“Elijah, I know this is difficult for you. So only I will ask the questions right now. Will you try?”

“Yes, Mistah Still.”

“Good.”

“Where does this Master Fowler live?”

“Danville, Virginia.”

“And what crops does he raise?”

“He got this big tobacco farm. Lots of slaves … mor'n Mastuh Ramsey,” Elijah said.

“Had you ever seen a tobacco plantation before?”

“No, suh.”

“And how were the living arrangements there?”

“Elijah live with Ol' Joe and some other slaves. Ain't no floor in the hut, not like Mastuh Ramsey's. Dirt only, and when rains come, floor all turn to mud. Elijah sleep on a plank board only.”

“How were you treated by this new master, Elijah?” Still asked, lowering his voice.

Elijah stared at his hands for several moments. The steely faces of Mastuh Fowler and Buckra exploded in front of him. He blinked his eyes to make their faces disappear.

“Take your time, son,” Still said. “Remember, you're among friends here. You may say whatever you want. No harm will come to you for speaking freely. In fact, Elijah, it may help you put some painful memories to rest.”

Elijah whirled in his chair and looked questioningly at Billy.

“Go on and tell 'em, Elijah,” Billy whispered, leaning forward.

Turning back, his eyes focused on the floor, Elijah spoke. “Mastuh Fowler didn't let me say good-bye to my pappy. Whupped me right off.”

He took another deep breath. His heart was beating hard against his chest.

“So he whipped you the first day he owned you?” Still asked. “In front of your pappy?”

“Yes, suh. Whupped me afore Elijah even get in the wagon. Pappy say run like the wind. But Elijah too scared to run then.”

“Tell us about the work you did on the farm.”

“Farm so big Mastuh have an overseer. Slaves call him Buckra. He a big-bellied white folk. He feedin' the slaves food in a trough, just like hogs. Buckra come to the hut first night, and he cussin' and sayin' he hear Elijah strongest nigguh in North Carolina—say he gonna break me.

“Then in the mornin' time when the farm bell ring, Elijah go to the field like he supposed to. Overseer, he right off collar Elijah. Buckra unhitch the wagon and he say Elijah got to pull it all day with the tobacco leaves. Sun real hot and Elijah didn't get no water 'til evenin'.”

“Finally Elijah just fall down. Legs don't move no mo', so Elijah crawl on the ground. Buckra laugh and drink his rum while he watch Elijah crawl. He say maybe Elijah not so strong now.”

Still wrung his hands. “Every muscle in your back must have been torn or strained,” he asked. “Did things get any better after that? Did he leave you alone?”

“No, suh.”

“Tell me.”

“Elijah work hard in the tobacco fields, but Buckra, he keep on whuppin' for any little thing.”

“How did he whip you?”

“Most times he tie me across a barrel and then lash me with the cowhide.” Elijah stirred uncomfortably in his chair as if the pain were still raw on his back.

“Do you know how many lashings you received?”

“One time he say he count a hunnert and twenny times before he tire and take a rest. Ol' Joe, he put wet rags on Elijah's back.”

“Tell me about Ol' Joe.”

Elijah remembered lying on his stomach on his plank, the wet rags on his back, intense pain shooting through him, and Ol' Joe beside him playing his harmonica during the long suffering hours. His eyes brightened when he thought of his kind old friend. “Ol' Joe know a lot of things. He been at the farm a long time and he not afraid of the overseer 'cause he say Mastuh like Ol' Joe.” Elijah smiled to himself. “Ol' Joe say Elijah just like his own chillun—his boy die when he fall from the rafters in the curin' barn when he tyin' tobacco leaves. Ol' Joe say overseer most like pushed him, and now he worry for me.”

“What about the master? Did he know about this?”

“Mastuh didn't pay no mind to Buckra. He let him do what he want. Then Elijah get in trouble with the Mastuh.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“One day in the field Buckra say stop plowing. But Elijah plow down one furrow and go on and furrow another one.”

“So you ignored the overseer?”

“Yes, suh. Buckra jest all liquored up and Elijah know Mastuh want his field plowed. Mastuh say that morning, field got to be plowed good.”

“But that only got you in trouble with Master Fowler?”

“Yes, suh. Last time only. Buckra tell Mastuh, and they take me to the curin' barn. Buckra strip me naked and tie rope around my wrists and hoist me up off the floor. Feet almost clear the floor. Whupped me good while I be hangin' from the rope. Then Mastuh tell Buckra to pour some rum he drinkin' over my back and cob me good.”

“Tell us about the cobbing.”

Elijah looked directly at the committee members. “With a corncob. Buckra pour liquor and make Elijah's back feel on fire. Then he scrape that husk all up and down Elijah's back. After a time, Elijah pass out.”

One of the committee members mumbled under his breath. “How in the name of God …”

Still stood up from the table, paced the floor, turned back and paced again. Then he approached Elijah. Bending down on his knees, Still said, “Elijah I want to see what this evil man did to your back. Will you show it to me?”

Elijah shook his head. “No, suh. Ain't no one gon' see this back again.”

Still placed his hand on Elijah's knees. “This committee has seen the scars of many slaves—slaves who have been badly beaten.”

Elijah motioned for Still to come closer. “Why Elijah got to take off his shirt? Maybe white folk here tell Mastuh Fowler,” he whispered.

“Oh, Elijah, you have my promise that no one here will tell Mr. Fowler anything. We are here to help you. You must believe me and trust us.”

Elijah looked straight at Still for a long moment.

“All right then.” He nodded.

“You have suffered greatly, Elijah,” Still said as he stood. “It is a testimony to others to continue the fight for our freedom.”