Part 11

"I endeavored to expostulate with him, by telling him he had received my wages and all my prize money, but it was to no purpose. Taking my only coat from my back, he went off in his boat. I followed them with aching eyes, and a heart ready to burst with grief, until they were out of sight. The captain, whose name was Doran, treated me very kindly, but we had a tempestuous voyage.

"When we came in sight of Montserrat, remembering what I had seen on my first arrival from Africa, it chilled me to the heart, and brought nothing to my view but misery, stripes, and chains: and to complete my distress, two of the sailors robbed me of about eight guineas, which I had collected by doing little jobs on board the ships of war, and which I hid when my master took my coat.

"Having unladed the ship, and laded her again for sea, the captain sent for me: when, with trembling steps and a faltering heart, I came to him. I found him sitting with Robert King, a Quaker, and a merchant: and after telling me the charge he had to get me a good master, he said he had got me one of the best on the island. Mr. King also said he had bought me on account of my good character (to maintain which I found to be of great importance), and that his home was in Philadelphia, where he expected soon to go, and he did not intend to treat me hard.

"He asked me what I could do. I answered, I can shave and dress hair pretty well; and that I have learned to refine wines; I could write, and understood arithmetic as far as the Rule of Three. The character Captain Doran had given of my master, I found to be correct. He possessed an amiable disposition, and was very charitable and humane.

"In passing about the island, I had an opportunity of seeing the dreadful usage, and wretched situation of the poor slaves; and it reconciled me to my condition, and made me thankful for being placed with so kind a master. He was several times offered a great price for me, but he would not sell me. Having obtained three pence, I began a little trade, and soon gained a dollar, then more; with this I bought me a Bible.

"Going in a vessel of my master's to Georgia and Charleston, a small venture I took on my return answered a very good purpose. In 1765, my master prepared for going to Philadelphia. With his crediting me for some articles, and the little stock of my own, I laid in considerable, which elated me much; and I told him I hoped I should soon obtain enough to purchase my freedom, which he promised me I should have when I could pay him what he gave for me.

"Between Montserrat and several ports in America we made many trips. One circumstance occurred when I was in Georgia that was a serious one to me. Being in a yard with some slaves one evening, their master coming home drunk, and seeing me, a stranger, he, with a stout man to help him, beat me so that I could not go aboard the ship, which gave the captain much anxiety. When he found me, and saw the situation I was in, he wept; but by his kind attention, and that of a skilful physician, I was in a few weeks able to go on board and attend to my business.

"Thus, passing from one port to another, with my kind master's and captain's indulgence, and my own indefatigable industry and economy, I obtained the sum required for my liberty. So, one morning, while they were at breakfast, I ventured to remind my master of what he had promised, and to tell him I had got the money--at which he seemed surprised. The captain told him I had come honestly by it, and he must now fulfil his promise.

"Upon which he told me to get a manumission drawn, and he would sign it. At this intelligence my heart leaped for joy. When the whole was finished, and I was in reality free, I felt like another being--my joy was indescribable. My master and Captain Doran entreated me not to leave them, and gratitude induced me to stay, though I longed to see Captain Pascal, and let him know I was _free_.

"I now hired as a sailor, and our next voyage was to Savannah. When we were preparing to return, and were taking some cattle on board, one of them butted the captain in the breast, which affected him so that he was unable to do duty, and he died before we reached our port. This was a heavy stroke to me, for he had been my true friend, and I loved him as a father.

"The winter following, I sailed again for Georgia, with a new captain, in the Nancy: but steering a more westerly course than usual, we soon got on the Bahama banks, where our vessel was wrecked, but no lives were lost. Getting on one of the islands, with some salt provision we had saved, we remained there many days, and suffered much for want of fresh water.

"When we were almost famished with hunger and thirst, we were found and carried to New Providence, where we were kindly treated. Thence we were taken to Savannah, so to Martinico and Montserrat, having been absent about six months, and experienced the delivering hand of Providence more than once, when all human means seemed hopeless.

"After relating to Mr. King the loss of the Nancy, and the various hardships we had endured, I again told him my desire to go to England; and although he wished me to remain in his service, he consented, and gave me the following certificate:--'The bearer hereof, Gustavus Vassa, was my slave upward of three years; during which time he always behaved himself well, and discharged his duty with honesty and assiduity.--R. KING.'

"Obtaining this certificate, I soon parted with my kind master, and arrived in England. When I here received my wages, I had thirty-seven guineas. I soon found my old captain, Pascal, who was surprised to see me, and asked how I came back. I told him, 'In a ship.' To which he replied, 'I suppose you did not _walk_ on the _water_.'

"I now set my mind on getting more learning, and attending school diligently. My money not being sufficient, I hired myself to service a while; but having a desire to go again to the Mediterranean, I engaged on board a ship, where the mate taught me navigation. While at Smyrna, I saw many caravans from India. Among other articles, they brought great quantities of locusts, and a kind of pulse resembling French beans, though larger; they are sweet and palatable.

"In the spring of 1773, an expedition was fitted out to explore a northwest passage to India. Dr. Irving concluding to go, I accompanied him, and we went on board one of the vessels the 24th of May; and about the middle of June, by the use of the doctor's apparatus for making salt water fresh, we distilled from twenty-six to forty gallons a day. On the 28th we reached Greenland, where I found the sun did not set.

"We found large fields of ice, and to one of them, about eighty yards thick, we made our vessel fast: but we soon became so surrounded with ice that we could not move, and were in danger of being crushed to pieces. In this perilous situation we remained eleven days, when the weather becoming more mild, and the wind changing, the ice gave way, and in about thirty hours, with hard labor, we got into open water, to our great joy, and arrived at Deptford, after an absence of four months, wherein we had experienced imminent dangers.

"Rejoicing to be again in England, I entered into service, and remained a considerable time; during which I began to reflect seriously on the many dangers I had escaped, particularly in my last voyage, and it made a serious impression on my mind; and my reflections were often turned to the awfulness of eternity.

"In this state, I took to my Bible, rejoicing that I could read it for myself, and I received encouragement. While my mind was thus seriously impressed, I went several voyages to Spain, and being often led to look over the occurrences of my past life, I saw there had been the hand of Providence to guide and protect me, though I knew it not; and when I considered my obligations to the Lord for His goodness, I wept.

"On our return, the last voyage, we picked up eleven Portuguese. Their vessel had sunk, with two of the crew, and they were in a small open boat, without victuals, compass, water, or anything else, and must soon have perished. As soon as they got on board our vessel, they fell on their knees and thanked God for their deliverance. Thus I saw verified what was written in the 107th Psalm.

"From the year 1777 to 1784, I remained more quiet; but about the latter period I made a trip to New York, and one to Philadelphia. At the latter place, I was very much pleased to see the worthy Quakers easing the burdens of my oppressed countrymen. It also rejoiced my heart when one of these people took me to the free school, and I saw the children of my color instructed, and their minds cultivated to fit them for usefulness.

"Not long after my return, I found government was preparing to make a settlement of free people of color on the coast of Africa, and that vessels were engaged to carry such as wished to go to Sierra Leone. I engaged as commissary, and we set sail with 426 persons. But the time of our arrival there, the rainy season having commenced, proved unfavorable, and some of us soon returned to England; where, since that period, I have been doing what I could for the relief of my much-injured country people.

"Having been early taught to look for the hand of God in minute circumstances, they have been of consequence to me; and aiming at simple truth in relating the incidents of my life, I hope some of my readers will gather instruction from them."

Gregorie, in his Inquiry into the Intellectual and Moral Faculties of the Negroes, states, that after thirty years of a wandering and stormy life, Vassa established himself in London, where he married, and published his memoirs, which have been several times reprinted--the last edition in 1794; and it is proved by the most respectable testimony that he was the author. In 1789, he presented a petition to parliament for the suppression of the slave trade.

He also says, that a son of his, named Sancho, having received a good education, was an assistant librarian to Sir Joseph Banks, and secretary to the committee for vaccination. And he concludes with this remark: "If Vassa still lived, the bill which was lately passed, prohibiting the slave trade, would be consoling to his heart, and to his old age."

BILLY AND JENNY.

About the year 1738, a man and his wife, named Tom and Caty, who were in bondage to Thomas Bowne, on Long Island, had a little son whom they called Billy. This little boy, when old enough to work, was sold to a farmer in the neighborhood; who, according to the custom of those days, went with his servants into the field, and allotted to each one his portion of labor. By this means, Billy became acquainted with the different branches of husbandry, and was inured to industry.

With this farmer, he was pretty comfortably cared for, and kept to his daily labor until the thirty-first year of his age. About the year 1744, the master of one of those ships employed in bringing the poor Africans from their native land, among others brought away a little girl--too young, alas! to tell even by what means, or in what way she was taken.

This little girl, after suffering all the hardships attendant on her situation, and a long confinement on shipboard, was landed in New York, and sold according to the custom of that time. She was bought by Samuel Underhill, and taken to Long Island to wait on his wife and children and they called her Jenny. As she advanced in age, she became more and more useful in her master's family, and satisfied with her situation.

Her mistress being a woman of an uncommonly amiable disposition, having known the subjugation of her own will, by the operation of that principle which brings into harmony all the discordant passions, and one of that description also, that "looked well to the ways of her household, and ate not the bread of idleness," she was qualified to govern her family with mildness and discretion, and to set them an example of economy, sobriety, cheerfulness, and industry.

Jenny, being placed under the tuition of such a mistress, in due time became qualified to fill the station allotted her with propriety, as an honest, sober, industrious, and useful servant. When she had arrived at about the twentieth year of her age, she was visited by the before-mentioned Billy, in the character of a suitor. After mature deliberation, and their affections becoming more strongly fixed, with the approbation of those concerned, the marriage ceremony was performed.

Thus were they united, not only in the bonds of wedlock, but those of sincere affection, which abundantly manifested itself in their conduct toward and respect for each other, during a long and laborious life, and in their care of their numerous offspring, which consisted of nine sons and one daughter.

Time passing on with them, they partook of such a share of happiness as their situation in life would permit, until the year 1769, when the master of Jenny, having purchased a farm in Westchester county, was preparing to remove his family thither. This circumstance became a very close trial to this affectionate pair, who by this time had several children.

The thoughtfulness and anxiety felt by them on this occasion being reciprocated by their masters, a proposition was made for an exchange. The wife of one of Billy's fellow-servants being in the family with Jenny, accommodations were soon made, and Billy was admitted a resident in the family with his beloved partner: when they all proceeded to their new settlement, where they lived in harmony and concord for many years, and until their master's children were all married and settled.

During this period, Billy and Jenny, with all their children, were liberated by their master, and such of them as were old enough, were placed where they might be brought up to habits of industry, and be prepared to provide for themselves a comfortable subsistence; but Billy and Jenny remained with him.

Age and infirmity at length put a period to their kind master's life. And his family, being thus deprived of his care and exertions, were induced to leave their abode. The mistress, who had long exercised an affectionate care over her household, finding herself lonely, retired to live with her children. And with her youngest son, she remained to an advanced age, and was then gathered into rest, as a shock of corn in its season.

Billy and Jenny having a house provided for them, remained under the care of their former master's descendants, and with their own industry, and the generosity of their friends, they were comfortably situated. But when Billy was so disabled by infirmity, that he could not work as a day-laborer, he cultivated a little garden, and did some light jobs for his neighbors.

Their children being out, while Jenny's health and strength remained, she went out to washing and housecleaning. Billy generally waited on her to the place of destination, and then, returning to his habitation, nursed his garden and poultry until toward evening, when he would go to accompany her home. More genuine politeness and unremitting attention, between a man and his wife, are rarely to be found, in city or country, than were manifested by this sable pair.

Thus they lived several years; but Jenny at length became enfeebled by age, and her sight failed, so that she was no longer capable of laboring abroad, or using her spinning-wheel at home, as heretofore, which made it necessary for them to be placed in a different situation. One winter, while they remained at housekeeping, there came a very severe snow-storm, with high wind, so that passing from one place to another was rendered very difficult for several days.

As soon as practicable, their friend, who had the care of them, and supplied their wants, went to see how they fared; when Jenny, meeting him at the door, and being asked how they were, etc., said, "Oh, Master Richard, I am wonderful glad to see thee--if the storm had lasted much longer, I believe we should have froze to death; our wood was 'most gone, and Billy is one of the honestest niggers in the world; for he had rather freeze to death than steal a rail from the fence." This circumstance is recorded as one specimen of their honest simplicity.

In the spring of 1815, they were removed to the habitation of one of their sons, where they were boarded; and there they remained, until death, the destroyer of all earthly comforts, put a period to Jenny's life, after a few days' severe illness, about the seventy-eighth year of her age.

The same affectionate attachment that pervaded her mind in youth and in health, remained unshaken to the last. Her sight, as before remarked, being almost gone, when lying on her bed, she frequently inquired for Billy; but when she was told he was lying behind her, or sitting by her, she was satisfied.

Thus she closed a long and laborious life, beloved and respected for her many good qualities, and her consistent conduct. Billy died at Scarsdale, Westchester county, New York, on the 4th of Third month, 1826, after a few days' illness, aged about eighty-seven years, and was decently interred by the side of Jenny, on the 6th of the same month.

GEORGE HARDY.

During the winter of 1832, the writer of the narrative of which this account is an abridgment, became acquainted with Hannah Hardy, an interesting old colored woman, and her son George. They were the suffering tenants of a miserable garret, lighted only by a few panes of glass, and ill-secured from the inclemencies of the weather.

Hannah had been an industrious woman, who supported herself comfortably for many years, until her sight, which had long been declining, so nearly left her as to disqualify her for all kinds of work. George, who was her youngest son, disclosed in his earliest years great quickness of discernment and readiness of apprehension. He could read the Bible when only four years old; and he continued to be remarkable for docility, and for preferring his books and other profitable employments to the idle sports of children.

When about eleven years old, he was placed from home, where he remained until four years since, when he became so much diseased with scrofula as to make it necessary for him to return to his mother. From that time, she became his constant and only nurse, and evinced, through numberless privations and difficulties, the most unwearied attention and patient endurance.

When he was able to sit up and use his arms, he made rope-mats; by which, with casual help from his friends, he supported his mother and paid her rent. He always mended his own and her clothes, and allowed no time to pass away in idleness, which he was able to employ; and so cheerful, so thankful, and so happy did this interesting couple appear, that it afforded a lesson of instruction to be with them.

Hannah, who could only distinguish the glare of noon from the gloom of darkness, had lived so long in the forlorn tenement they then inhabited, and knew so well all the turnings of its steep and dangerous stairs, that she could not bear to hear the proposal from some of her friends to provide one more comfortable. Through the latter part of the winter, and the commencement of the spring, George's sufferings greatly increased; he was wholly confined to his bed, and so emaciated with pain and disease, that although he was seventeen years of age, his arms were not thicker than an infant's.

He had been a diligent reader of the Holy Scriptures; and though he told me they had been to him a sealed book, until he was brought to that bed of suffering, yet it was evident that his mind had long been enabled to appropriate to his own necessities many of their precious precepts. Though he labored under the combined effects of scrofula and dropsy, in their highest degrees of virulence, yet I never heard him repine; and often, while suffering extreme bodily anguish, he would speak of the relief it afforded the poor afflicted body, to have the mind composed and tranquil, and would say, "O, I feel like a poor worm in the fire; yet all I desire is, to be favored with patience to bear all my pain, and with a willing mind to wait the Master's will to take me away."

For many days and nights together he was able to obtain but little sleep; yet he showed no marks of restlessness or discontent. Once, calling me to his bedside, he said, "I am afraid I am not patient enough; but I often feel very weary, and I fear I shall wear my poor mother out. I am more concerned for her than for myself--what should I do for a care-taker if she were gone? She is very kind to me, and I have many kind friends. I am afraid I am not grateful enough for all my favors. To some, this garret would look like a dull place, but it never looks gloomy to me; I have had more pleasure in it than I could have had in the nicest parlor."

Having called one day after he had passed a sleepless and languishing night, I found him, with the Bible fixed before him, reading. He looked animated, and said, "I always loved to read the Bible, but I never understood it until very lately; now I understand it, and I find that religion and pleasure are in no way inconsistent. I feel now that I shall never recover. I am willing to die, and I shall be happy when I am gone from earth--but the Lord is very merciful, and can make me happy as long as He chooses that I should stay. I have trusted in Him through pain and through want, and I believe He will never forsake me. My Fifth has sometimes been closely tried, but I never let go my confidence."

His disease now rapidly increased, and with it his suffering. On the 23d of Fifth month, he conversed a long time with the doctor, and seemed more comfortable than usual; but he passed a sleepless and distressing night. The next day, he was able to take but little nourishment, owing to the great soreness of his mouth and throat, but he could converse intelligibly, and seemed anxious to do so. About two o'clock this day, I found him in great pain, but quite tranquil in mind.

On my going to him, he said, "My sufferings are now nearly over; I shall not live many days--not more than two. The Lord's time has nearly come, and then He will take me where I shall never suffer any more. O, how marvellous His mercy is, to look down upon such a polluted sinner as I am!

'I the worst of sinners am, But Jesus came to save me.'--

Yes, He will save me--I know it. I have a hope--a pretty certain hope--O, it is a very certain hope--it is a very sure hope." He then in a low and indistinct voice, supplicated for many minutes; after which he said, "I have been talking to my Saviour."

Not expecting him to hear, I asked his mother if he had always been a serious boy; but before she could reply, George said, "No! I was always bad, always wicked; but since I was brought to this bed of sickness, I have sought for repentance, and I have found it: my sins were as scarlet, but now they are washed as white as snow. But it is all mercy, pure mercy; we have no righteousness of our own to depend upon--no works, no merit of our own will avail us at such a time as this. If these were all we had to look to, we should never be saved. But this is what Jesus came into the world for--to save us poor sinners; and salvation belongs to Him alone."

After this, he desired me to read to him in the Bible--said he would like to hear me read in the Psalms, where David deplored his sins. I did so, and he afterward composed himself and slept a few minutes; but the pain soon awoke him, and he said, "I hope my patience will hold out--I must not get impatient so near the end."