St. Catharines
Isaac Williams
My master’s farm is in Virginia. When my first master died, his widow married a man who got into debt and was put into prison. The woman gave up her rights to get him out. Then we were sold. Every man came to be sold for her lifetime,—then to revert to the heirs. The heirs bought in all they could—among them my two sisters. They were sent straight to a slave-pen at Richmond. Where they went I know not: that was the last I heard of them; we could not help it,—they went off crying. My purchaser bought also the interest of the heirs in me, and I remained with him ten years—until my escape, near the close of 1854.
Before I was sold I was hired out to work: at one time to a man on the Rappahannock. Three of his men got away—went as far as Bluff Point. Then they were overtaken, tied to his buggy by the overseer, who whipped up, and they had to run home. One, our employer and his overseer whipped, taking turns about it, until they cut him through to his caul, and he died under the lash. The employer, it was said, caused the man’s heart to be taken out and carried over the river, so as not to be haunted by his spirit. He was arrested, and heavily fined. The other two runaways were sold south. Then I worked for another person, being hired out to him. Directly after I went to him, I went to a haystack to feed cattle: accidentally I set fire to the haystack which was consumed,—for which I received three hundred lashes with hickory sticks. The overseer gave me the blows and Jo—counted them. His feeding was herrings and a peck of meal a week—never enough—if one wanted more he had to steal it.
My last master’s allowance was a peck and a half of corn meal a week, and a small slice of meat for each dinner. If any thing more was got it had to be obtained at night. He had but one overseer, and that for but one year. He was a sharp man—whipped me with a cowhide. I’ve seen him whip women and children like oxen. My master owned a yellow girl, who, he feared, would run away. I was his head man and had to help do it. He tied her across the fence, naked, and whipped her severely with a paddle bored with holes, and with a switch. Then he shaved the hair off of one side of her head, and daubed cow-filth on the shaved part, to disgrace her—keep her down. I tried hard to avoid the lash, but every year he would get up with me for a whipping in some way. I could not avoid it,—he would catch me on something, do how I would. The last time he whipped me, was for stealing corn for bread for Christmas. George—was with me. He tied our wrists together about a tree, and then whipped us with a carriage whip—that was six years ago. He whipped till he wore the lash off; then he tied a knot in the end, and gave me a blow which laid me up limping three weeks,—the blood ran down into my shoes. After that he used to whip the others. George and others would have their shirts sticking to their backs in the blood. I have seen him strip my wife and whip her with a