The Land of Bondage: A RomanceBloundelle-Burton, John
History
The Land of Bondage: A Romance
Bloundelle-Burton, John
Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Virginia -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction
since they were his only for four years, their lives were not worth
preserving. And, although he might not kill them by law, as he might a
negro or a dog, if he did kill them it was unknown for notice to be
taken of it. And sometimes, too, dissipated planters would gamble for
their white men and women as they would for bales of tobacco or bags
of Virginia shillings, so that those who had a hard master one day
exchanged him for a good one on the next, or the case might be exactly
reversed. My father, though firm, could not be considered aught else
but a good master to both his black and white servants. Indian meal
was allowed them in large quantities, while pork--though true it is
that our swine were so numerous that they were accounted almost
valueless--was served out to them regularly. Moreover, those who did
well were given small rewards, even if only a Rosa Americana farthing
now and again, while for floggings, none received them but those who
stole, or ran away and were recaptured, or misbehaved themselves
grossly. But each, on being purchased on to our estate, had read to
him a dreadful list of punishments which he would surely receive if he
did aught to merit them. It was thought well by my father that the
fear of such punishments should be kept ever before their eyes, even
if those punishments were but rarely dealt out.
We heard much laughing and many derisive shouts as we drew near the
white servants' quarters, nor had we long to wait or far to go before
we discovered the cause of it, which was our new purchase telling the
others of his miseries and dreadful lot, as he termed it. Through the
breaks in the trees we perceived him seated on a pork barrel--a
miserable-looking figure, unkempt and dirty. His long straight hair,
like a New England Puritan's or a Quaker's, was hanging down his
shoulders; he had no shoes upon his feet, and thus he was holding
forth to his new acquaintances.
"So consider," we heard him say, as we drew near, "consider what I, a
gentleman, the Honourable Roderick St. Amande, have suffered. Near
five months at sea, nearly drowned and shipwrecked, with our ship
driven out of her course, then chased by pirates who knew the cargo
there was on board; beaten, ill-used, cuffed and ill-treated by
all--and all of it a mistake."
"Ay," exclaimed the man who had been, it was said, a housebreaker, and
was a rough, coarse fellow, "and so was my affair all a mistake. 'Twas
friend Jonathan--Jonathan Wild who hath now himself been hanged, as I
have since heard--who pinched me falsely, but the Government,
recognising my merits more than my lord on the bench, who was asleep
when he tried me, sent me out here where I fell into the hands of old
Nick."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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