Clotelle; or The Colored Heroine | Page 6

William Wells Brown
that they were
to leave.
The slave-trader started at early dawn, and was beyond the confines of
the city long before the citizens were out of their beds. As a slave
regards a life on the sugar, cotton, or rice plantation as even worse than
death, they are ever on the watch for an opportunity to escape. The
trader, aware of this, secures his victims in chains before he sets out on
his journey. On this occasion, Jennings had the men chained in pairs,
while the women were allowed to go unfastened, but were closely

watched.
After a march of eight days, the company arrived on the banks of the
Ohio River, where they took a steamer for the place of their destination.
Jennings had already advertised in the New Orleans papers, that he
would be there with a prime lot of able-bodied slaves, men and women,
fit for field-service, with a few extra ones calculated for
house-servants,--all between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five years;
but like most men who make a business of speculating in human beings,
he often bought many who were far advanced in years, and would try to
pass them off for five or six years younger than they were. Few persons
can arrive at anything approaching the real age of the negro, by mere
observation, unless they are well acquainted with the race. Therefore,
the slave-trader frequently carried out the deception with perfect
impunity.
After the steamer had left the wharf and was fairly out on the bosom of
the broad Mississippi, the speculator called his servant Pompey to him;
and instructed him as to getting the negroes ready for market. Among
the forty slaves that the trader had on this occasion, were some whose
appearance indicated that they had seen some years and had gone
through considerable service. Their gray hair and whiskers at once
pronounced them to be above the ages set down in the trader's
advertisement. Pompey had long been with Jennings, and understood
his business well, and if he did not take delight in the discharge of his
duty, he did it at least with a degree of alacrity, so that he might receive
the approbation of his master.
Pomp, as he was usually called by the trader, was of real negro blood,
and would often say, when alluding to himself, "Dis nigger am no
counterfeit, he is de ginuine artikle. Dis chile is none of your
haf-and-haf, dere is no bogus about him."
Pompey was of low stature, round face, and, like most of his race, had a
set of teeth, which, for whiteness and beauty, could not be surpassed;
his eyes were large, lips thick, and hair short and woolly. Pompey had
been with Jennings so long, and had seen so much of buying and
selling of his fellow-creatures, that he appeared perfectly indifferent to

the heart-rending scenes which daily occurred in his presence. Such is
the force of habit:--
"Vice is a monster of such frightful mien, That to be hated, needs but to
be seen; But seen too oft, familiar with its face, We first endure, then
pity, then embrace."
It was on the second day of the steamer's voyage, that Pompey selected
five of the oldest slaves, took them into a room by themselves, and
commenced preparing them for the market.
"Now," said he, addressing himself to the company, "I is de chap dat is
to get you ready for de Orleans market, so dat you will bring marser a
good price. How old is you?" addressing himself to a man not less than
forty.
"If I live to see next sweet-potato-digging time, I shall be either forty or
forty-five, I don't know which."
"Dat may be," replied Pompey; "but now you is only thirty years old,--
dat's what marser says you is to be."
"I know I is more den dat," responded the man.
"I can't help nuffin' about dat," returned Pompey; "but when you get
into de market and any one ax you how old you is, and you tell um you
is forty or forty-five, marser will tie you up and cut you all to pieces.
But if you tell um dat you is only thirty, den he won't. Now remember
dat you is thirty years old and no more."
"Well den, I guess I will only be thirty when dey ax me."
"What's your name?" said Pompey, addressing himself to another.
"Jeems."
"Oh! Uncle Jim, is it?" "Yes."
"Den you must have all them gray whiskers shaved off, and all dem

gray hairs plucked out of your head." This was all said by Pompey in a
manner which showed that he knew what he was about.
"How old is you?" asked Pompey of a tall, strong-looking man. "What's
your name?"
"I am twenty-nine years

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