The Narrative of William W. Brown, a Fugitive Slave | Page 5

labor
in the field, and perform the same amount of work that the other hands
did. When his master returned home, he was much pleased to find that
Randall had been subdued in his absence.

CHAPTER III.
Soon afterwards, my master removed to the city of St. Louis, and
purchased a farm four miles from there, which he placed under the
charge of an overseer by the name of Friend Haskell. He was a regular
Yankee from New England. The Yankees are noted for making the
most cruel overseers.
My mother was hired out in the city, and I was also hired out there to
Major Freeland, who kept a public house. He was formerly from
Virginia, and was a horse-racer, cock-fighter, gambler, and withal an
inveterate drunkard. There were ten or twelve servants in the house,
and when he was present, it was cut and slash--knock down and drag
out. In his fits of anger, he would take up a chair, and throw it at a
servant; and in his more rational moments, when he wished to chastise
one, he would tie them up in the smoke-house, and whip them; after
which, he would cause a fire to be made of tobacco stems, and smoke
them. This he called "Virginia play."
I complained to my master of the treatment which I received from
Major Freeland; but it made no difference. He cared nothing about it,
so long as he received the money for my labor. After living with Major
Freeland five or six months, I ran away, and went into the woods back
of the city; and when night came on, I made my way to my master's
farm, but was afraid to be seen, knowing that if Mr. Haskell, the
overseer, should discover me, I should be again carried back to Major
Freeland; so I kept in the woods. One day, while in the woods, I heard
the barking and howling of dogs, and in a short time they came so near,
that I knew them to be the blood-hounds of Major Benjamin O'Fallon.
He kept five or six, to hunt runaway slaves with.
As soon as I was convinced that it was them, I knew there was no
chance of escape. I took refuge in the top of a tree, and the hounds were
soon at its base, and there remained until the hunters came up in a half
or three quarters of an hour afterwards. There were two men with the
dogs, who, as soon as they came up, ordered me to descend. I came

down, was tied, and taken to St. Louis jail. Major Freeland soon made
his appearance, and took me out, and ordered me to follow him, which
I did. After we returned home, I was tied up in the smoke-house, and
was very severely whipped. After the Major had flogged me to his
satisfaction, he sent out his son Robert, a young man eighteen or twenty
years of age, to see that I was well smoked. He made a fire of tobacco
stems, which soon set me to coughing and sneezing. This, Robert told
me, was the way his father used to do to his slaves in Virginia. After
giving me what they conceived to be a decent smoking, I was untied
and again set to work.
Robert Freeland was a "chip of the old block." Though quite young, it
was not unfrequently that he came home in a state of intoxication. He is
now, I believe, a popular commander of a steamboat on the Mississippi
river. Major Freeland soon after failed in business, and I was put on
board the steamboat Missouri, which plied between St. Louis and
Galena. The commander of the boat was William B. Culver. I remained
on her during the sailing season, which was the most pleasant time for
me that I had ever experienced. At the close of navigation, I was hired
to Mr. John Colburn, keeper of the Missouri Hotel. He was from one of
the Free States; but a more inveterate hater of the negro, I do not
believe ever walked on God's green earth. This hotel was at that time
one of the largest in the city, and there were employed in it twenty or
thirty servants, mostly slaves.
Mr. Colburn was very abusive, not only to the servants, but to his wife
also, who was an excellent woman, and one from whom I never knew a
servant to receive a harsh word; but never did I know a kind one to a
servant from her husband. Among the slaves employed in the hotel,
was one by the name of Aaron, who belonged to Mr. John F. Darby, a
lawyer. Aaron was the knife-cleaner. One day, one of the knives was
put on the table,