David Blount
From:
North Carolina
N. C. District: No. 2 [320165]
Worker: Mary A. Hicks
No. Words: 1430
Subject: Days on the Plantation
Person Interviewed: Uncle David Blount
Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt
[TR: Date Stamp "JUN 1 1937"]
[HW: N. C. Good general story--]
[HW: Good story
Hates the Yankees
boy beaten by overseer who is later discharged;
slaves make pact with Yankees]
DAYS ON THE PLANTATION
As told by Uncle David Blount, formerly of Beaufort County, who did not
know his age. "De Marster" he refers to was Major Wm. A. Blount, who
owned plantations in several parts of North Carolina.
Yes mam, de days on de plantation wuz de happy days. De marster made us
wuck through de week but on Sadays we uster go swimmin' in de riber an'
do a lot of other things dat we lak ter do.
We didn't mind de wuck so much case de ground wuz soft as ashes an' de
marster let us stop and rest when we got tired. We planted 'taters in de
uplan's and co'n in de lowgroun's nex' de riber. It wuz on de Cape Fear
an' on hot days when we wuz a-pullin' de fodder we'd all stop wuck 'bout
three o'clock in de ebenin' an' go swimmin'. Atter we come out'n de
water we would wuck harder dan eber an' de marster wuz good to us, case
we did wuck an' we done what he ast us.
I 'members onct de marster had a oberseer dar dat wuz meaner dan a mean
nigger. He always hired good oberseers an' a whole lot of times he let
some Negro slave obersee. Well, dis oberseer beat some of de half grown
boys till de blood run down ter dar heels an' he tole de rest of us dat
if we told on him dat he'd kill us. We don't dasen't ast de marster ter
git rid of de man so dis went on fer a long time.
It wuz cold as de debil one day an' dis oberseer had a gang of us
a-clearin' new groun'. One boy ast if he could warm by de bresh heap. De
oberseer said no, and atter awhile de boy had a chill. De oberseer don't
care, but dat night de boy am a sick nigger. De nex' mornin' de marster
gits de doctor, an' de doctor say dat de boy has got pneumonia. He tells
'em ter take off de boys shirt an' grease him wid some tar, turpentine,
an' kerosene, an' when dey starts ter take de shirt off dey fin's dat it
am stuck.
Dey had ter grease de shirt ter git it off case de blood whar de
oberseer beat him had stuck de shirt tight ter de skin. De marster wuz
in de room an' he axed de boy how come it, an' de boy tole him.
De marster sorta turns white an' he says ter me, 'Will yo' go an' ast
de oberseer ter stop hyar a minute, please?'
When de oberseer comes up de steps he axes sorta sassy-like, 'What yo'
want?'
De marster says, 'Pack yo' things an' git off'n my place as fast as yo'
can, yo' pesky varmit.'
De oberseer sasses de marster some more, an' den I sees de marster
fairly loose his temper for de first time. He don't say a word but he
walks ober, grabs de oberseer by de shoulder, sets his boot right hard
'ginst de seat of his pants an' sen's him, all drawed up, out in de
yard on his face. He close up lak a umbrella for a minute den he pulls
hisself all tergether an' he limps out'n dat yard an' we ain't neber
seed him no more.
No mam, dar wuzent no marryin' on de plantation dem days, an' as one
ole 'oman raised all of de chilluns me an' my brother Johnnie ain't
neber knowed who our folkses wuz. Johnnie wuz a little feller when de
war ended, but I wuz in most of de things dat happen on de plantation
fer a good while.
One time dar, I done fergit de year, some white mens comes down de
riber on a boat an' dey comes inter de fiel's an' talks ter a gang of us
an' dey says dat our masters ain't treatin' us right. Dey tells us dat
we orter be paid fer our wuck, an' dat we hadn't ort ter hab passes ter
go anywhar. Dey also tells us dat we ort ter be allowed ter tote guns if
we wants 'em. Dey says too dat sometime our marsters was gwine ter kill
us all.
I laughs at 'em, but some of dem fool niggers listens ter 'em; an' it
'pears dat dese men gib de niggers some guns atter I left an' promised
ter bring 'em some more de nex' week.
I fin's out de nex' day 'bout dis an' I goes an' tells de marster. He
sorta laughs an' scratches his head, 'Dem niggers am headed fer trouble,
Dave, 'he says ter me, 'an I wants yo' ter help me.'
I says, 'Yas sar, marster.'
An' he goes on, 'Yo' fin's out when de rest of de guns comes Dave, an'
let me know.'
When de men brings back de guns I tells de marster, an' I also tells
him dat dey wants ter hold er meetin'.
'All right,' he says an' laughs, 'dey can have de meetin'. Yo' tell
'em, Dave, dat I said dat dey can meet on Chuesday night in de pack
house.'
Chuesday ebenin' he sen's dem all off to de low groun's but me, an' he
tells me ter nail up de shutters ter de pack house an' ter nail 'em up
good.
I does lak he tells me ter do an' dat night de niggers marches in an'
sneaks dar guns in too. I is lyin' up in de loft an' I hyars dem say dat
atter de meetin' dey is gwine ter go up ter de big house an' kill de
whole fambly.
I gits out of de winder an' I runs ter de house an tells de marster.
Den me an' him an' de young marster goes out an' quick as lightnin', I
slams de pack house door an' I locks it. Den de marster yells at dem,
'I'se got men an' guns out hyar, he yells, 'an' if yo' doan throw dem
guns out of de hole up dar in de loft, an' throw dem ebery one out I'se
gwine ter stick fire ter dat pack house.'
De niggers 'liberates for a few minutes an' den dey throws de guns out.
I knows how many dey has got so I counts till dey throw dem all out, den
I gathers up dem guns an' I totes 'em off ter de big house.
Well sar, we keeps dem niggers shet up fer about a week on short
rations; an' at de end of dat time dem niggers am kyored for good. When
dey comes out dey had three oberseers 'stid of one, an' de rules am
stricter dan eber before; an' den de marster goes off ter de war.
I reckon I was 'bout fifteen or sixteen den; an' de marster car's me
'long fer his pusonal sarvant an' body guard an' he leabes de rest of
dem niggers in de fiel's ter wuck like de dickens while I laughs at dem
Yankees.
Jim belonged to Mr. Harley who lived in New Hanover County during de
war, in fac' he was young Massa Harley's slave; so when young Massa Tom
went to de war Jim went along too.
Dey wuz at Manassas, dey tells me, when Massa Tom got kilt, and de
orders wuz not to take no bodies off de field right den.
Course ole massa down near Wilmington, doan know 'bout young Massa Tom,
but one night dey hears Jim holler at de gate. Dey goes runnin' out; an'
Jim has brung Massa Tom's body all dat long ways home so dat he can be
buried in de family burian ground.
De massa frees Jim dat night; but he stays on a time atter de war, an'
tell de day he died he hated de Yankees for killing Massa Tom. In fact
we all hated de Yankees, 'specially atter we hear 'bout starve dat first
winter. I tried ter make a libin' fer me an' Johnnie but it was bad
goin'; den I comes ter Raleigh an' I gits 'long better. Atter I gits
settled I brings Johnnie, an' so we done putty good.
Dat's all I can tell yo' now Miss, but if'n yo'll come back sometime
I'll tell yo' de rest of de tales.
Shortly after the above interview Uncle Dave who was failing fast was
taken to the County Home, where he died. He was buried on May 4th, 1937,
the rest of the tale remaining untold.
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Clay Bobbit
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Emma Blalock
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