Great Britain -- History -- Stuarts, 1603-1714 -- Fiction
When all was ready we were marched, twenty in number, along a white
and dusty road to our estate. By great good fortune--rather by
Providence--we were all bought by the same master. He was, it is
true, a bad man; but to be bought all together was a happiness which
we could not expect. He bought us all because he understood that we
belonged to the same family (and that one of position), in the hope
of receiving substantial ransom. This man rode with us, accompanied
by two overseers (these were themselves under the same sentence)
who cracked their whips continually, and cursed us if we lagged.
Their bark was worse, we afterwards found, than their bite, for it
was only in the master's presence that they behaved thus brutishly,
and in order to curry favour with him and to prevent being reduced
again to the rank of those who served in the field. There was no
doubt, from the very outset, that we were afflicted with a master
whose like, I would hope, is not to be found upon the island of
Barbadoes. Briefly, he was one whose appearance, voice, and manner
all alike proclaimed him openly to all the world as a drunkard, a
profligate, and a blasphemer. A drunkard he was of that kind who are
seldom wholly drunk and yet are never sober; who begin the day with
a glass and go on taking more glasses all day long, with small ale
for breakfast, strong ale and Madeira for dinner, a tankard in the
afternoon, and for supper more strong ale and Madeira, and before
bed another tankard. As for compassion, or tenderness, or any of the
virtues which a man who holds other men in slavery ought to possess,
he had none of them.
Let me speak of him with no more bitterness than is necessary.
We have, I think, all forgiven him, and he hath long since gone
to a place where he can do no more harm to any, but awaiteth
judgment--perhaps in the sure and certain hope of which the funeral
service speaks--but this is open to doubt.
When we were arrived at the estate, the master dismounted, gave his
horse to a negro, and ordered us to be drawn up in line.
He then made a short speech. He said that he had bought us, rebels
and villains as we were, and that he meant to get his money's worth
out of us or he would cut us all to pieces. Other things he told
us, which I pass over because they were but repetitions of this
assurance. He then proceeded to examine us in detail. When he came
to me he cursed and swore because he said he had been made to pay
for a sound, proper man, and had got a crookback for his bargain. I
told him that, with submission, he might find the crookback, who
was a physician, a more profitable bargain than many a stronger man.
'What?' he roared. 'Thou art a physician, eh? Wouldst slink out of
the field-work and sit idle among bottles and boluses? John'--he
turned to one of the overseers--'pay particular attention, I command
thee, to this learned physician. If he so much as turn round in his
work, make his shoulders smart.'
'Ay, ay, Sir,' said the overseer.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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