The
History of Mary Prince,
A West Indian Slave.
(Related by herself.)

I was born at Brackish-Pond, in Bermuda, on a farm belonging to
Mr. Charles Myners. My mother was a household slave; and my
father, whose name was Prince, was a sawyer belonging to Mr. Trimmingham,
a ship-builder at Crow-Lane. When I was an infant, old Mr.
Myners died, and there was a division of the slaves and other property
among the family. I was bought along with my mother by old Captain
Darrel, and given to his grandchild, little Miss Betsey Williams.
Captain Williams, Mr. Darrel’s son-in-law, was master of a vessel which
traded to several places in America and the West Indies, and he was
seldom at home long together.

Mrs. Williams was kind-hearted good woman, and she treated
all her slaves well. She had only one daughter, Miss Betsey, for whom
I was purchased, and who was about my own age. I was made quite
a pet of by Miss Betsey, and loved her very much. She used to lead
me about by the hand, and call me her little nigger. This was the happiest
period of my life; for I was too young to understand rightly my
condition as a slave, and too thoughtless and full of spirits to look
forward to the days of toil and sorrow.

My mother was a household slave in the same family. I was under
her own care, and my little brothers and sisters were my play-fellows
and companions. My mother had several fine children after she came
to Mrs. Williams,—three girls and two boys. The tasks given out to
us children were light, and we used to play together with Miss Betsey,
with as much freedom almost as if she had been our sister.

My master, however, was a very harsh, selfish man; and we always
dreaded his return from sea. His wife was herself much afraid of him;
and, during his stay at home, seldom dared to shew her usual kindness
to the slaves. He often left her, in the most distressed circumstances, to
reside in other female society, at some place in the West Indies of which
I have forgot the name. My poor mistress bore his ill-treatment with
great patience, and all her slaves loved and pitied her. I was truly
attached to her, and, next to my own mother, loved her better than any
creature in the world. My obedience to her commands was cheerfully B B1v 2
given: it sprung solely from the affection I felt for her, and not from
fear of the power which the white people’s law had given her over
me.

I had scarcely reached my twelfth year when my mistress became
too poor to keep so many of us at home; and she hired me out to
Mrs. Pruden, a lady who lived about five miles off, in the adjoining
parish, in a large house near the sea. I cried bitterly at parting with
my dear mistress and Miss Betsey, and when I kissed my mother and
brothers and sisters, I thought my young heart would break, it pained
me so. But there was no help; I was forced to go. Good Mrs. Williams
comforted me by saying that I should still be near the home I was
about to quit, and might come over and see her and my kindred whenever
I could obtain leave of absence from Mrs. Pruden. A few hours
after this I was taken to a strange house, and found myself among
strange people. This separation seemed a sore trial to me then; but oh!
’twas light, light to the trials I have since endured!—’twas nothing—
nothing to be mentioned with them; but I was a child then, and it was
according to my strength.

I knew that Mrs. Williams could no longer maintain me; that she
was fain to part with me for my food and clothing; and I tried to submit
myself to the change. My new mistress was a passionate woman;
but yet she did not treat me very unkindly. I do not remember her
striking me but once, and that was for going to see Mrs. Williams
when I heard she was sick, and staying longer than she had given
me leave to do. All my employment at this time was nursing a
sweet baby, little Master Daniel; and I grew so fond of my nursling
that it was my greatest delight to walk out with him by the sea-shore,
accompanied by his brother and sister, Miss Fanny and Master James.
—Dear Miss Fanny! She was a sweet, kind young lady, and so fond
of me that she wished me to learn all that she knew herself; and her method
of teaching me was as follows:—Directly she had said her lessons
to her grandmamma, she used to come running to me, and make me
repeat them one by one after her; and in a few months I was able not
only to say my letters but to spell many small words. But this happy
state was not to last long. Those days were too pleasant to last. My
heart always softens when I think of them.

At this time Mrs. Williams died. I was told suddenly of her death,
and my grief was so great that, forgetting I had the baby in my arms,
I ran away directly to my poor mistress’s house: but reached it only in
time to see the corpse carried out. Oh, that was a day of sorrow,—a
heavy day! All the slaves cried. My mother cried and lamented her
sore; and I (foolish creature!) vainly entreated them to bring my dear
mistress back to life. I knew nothing rightly about death then, and
it seemed a hard thing to bear. When I thought about my mistress
I felt as if the world was all gone wrong; and for many days and weeks
I could think of nothing else. I returned to Mrs. Pruden’s; but my
sorrow was too great to be comforted, for my own dear mistress was
always in my mind. Whether in the house or abroad, my thoughts
were always talking to me about her.

I staid at Mrs. Pruden’s about three months after this; I was B2r 3
then sent back to Mr. Williams to be sold. Oh, that was a sad sad time!
I recollect the day well. Mrs. Pruden came to me and said, “Mary,
you will have to go home directly; your master is going to be married,
and he means to sell you and two of your sisters to raise money for the
wedding.” Hearing this I burst out a crying,—though I was then far
from being sensible of the full weight of my misfortune, or of the
misery that waited for me. Besides, I did not like to leave Mrs. Pruden,
and the dear baby, who had grown very fond of me. For some time I
could scarcely believe that Mrs. Pruden was in earnest, till I received
orders for my immediate return.—Dear Miss Fanny! how she cried at
parting with me, whilst I kissed and hugged the baby, thinking I
should never see him again. I left Mrs. Pruden’s, and walked home
with a heart full of sorrow. The idea of being sold away from my
mother and Miss Betsey was so frightful, that I dared not trust myself
to think about it. We had been bought of Mr. Myners, as I have
mentioned, by Miss Betsey’s grandfather, and given to her, so that we
were by right her property, and I never thought we should be separated
or sold away from it.

When I reached the house, I went in directly to Miss Betsey. I
found her in great distress; and she cried out as soon as she saw me,
“Oh, Mary! my father is going to sell you all to raise money to marry
that wicked woman. You are my slaves, and he has no right to sell
you; but it is all to please her.” She then told me that my mother was
living with her father’s sister at a house close by, and I went there to
see her. It was a sorrowful meeting; and we lamented with a great
and sore crying our unfortunate situation. “Here comes one of my
poor picaninnies!” she said, the moment I came in, “one of the poor
slave-brood who are to be sold to-morrow.”

Oh dear! I cannot bear to think of that day,—it is too much.—It
recalls the great grief that filled my heart, and the woeful thoughts that
passed to and fro through my mind, whilst listening to the pitiful words
of my poor mother, weeping for the loss of her children. I wish I could
find words to tell you all I then felt and suffered. The great God above
alone knows the thoughts of the poor slave’s heart, and the bitter pains
which follow such separations as these. All that we love taken away
from us—Oh, it is sad, sad! and sore to be borne!—I got no sleep that
night for thinking of the morrow; and dear Miss Betsey was scarcely
less distressed. She could not bear to part with her old playmates,
and she cried sore and would not be pacified.

The black morning at length came; it came too soon for my poor
mother and us. Whilst she was putting on us the new osnaburgs in
which we were to be sold, she said, in a sorrowful voice, (I shall never
forget it!) “See, I am shrouding my poor children; what a task for a
mother!”—She then called Miss Betsey to take leave of us. “I am
going to carry my little chickens to market,” (these were her very words,)
“take your last look of them; may be you will see them no more.”
“Oh, my poor slaves! my own slaves!” said dear Miss Betsey, “you
belong to me; and it grieves my heart to part with you.”—Miss Betsey
kissed us all, and, when she left us, my mother called the rest of the
slaves to bid us good bye. One of them, a woman named Moll, B2v 4
came with her infant in her arms. “Ay!” said my mother, seeing her
turn away and look at her child with the tears in her eyes, “your turn
will come next.” The slaves could say nothing to comfort us; they
could only weep and lament with us. When I left my dear little
brothers and the house in which I had been brought up, I thought my
heart would burst.

Our mother, weeping as she went, called me away with the children
Hannah and Dinah, and we took the road that led to Hamble Town,
which we reached about four o’clock in the afternoon. We followed
my mother to the market-place, where she placed us in a row against
a large house, with our backs to the wall and our arms folded across
our breasts. I, as the eldest, stood first, Hannah next to me, then
Dinah; and our mother stood beside, crying over us. My heart throbbed
with grief and terror so violently, that I pressed my hands quite
tightly across my breast, but I could not keep it still, and it continued
to leap as though it would burst out of my body. But who cared for
that? Did one of the many by-standers, who were looking at us so
carelessly, think of the pain that wrung the hearts of the negro woman
and her young ones? No, no! They were not all bad, I dare say,
but slavery hardens white people’s hearts towards the blacks; and
many of them were not slow to make their remarks upon us aloud,
without regard to our grief—though their light words fell like cayenne
on the fresh wounds of our hearts. Oh those white people have small
hearts who can only feel for themselves.

At length the vendue master, who was to offer us for sale like sheep
or cattle, arrived, and asked my mother which was the eldest. She said
nothing, but pointed to me. He took me by the hand, and led me out
into the middle of the street, and, turning me slowly round, exposed me
to the view of those who attended the vendue. I was soon surrounded
by strange men, who examined and handled me in the same manner that
a butcher would a calf or a lamb he was about to purchase, and who
talked about my shape and size in like words—as if I could no
more understand their meaning than the dumb beasts. I was then put
up to sale. The bidding commenced at a few pounds, and gradually
rose to fifty-seven,Open note 1Back to note ¹ when I was knocked down to the highest bidder;
and the people who stood by said that I had fetched a great sum for so
young a slave.

I then saw my sisters led forth, and sold to different owners; so that
we had not the sad satisfaction of being partners in bondage. When the
sale was over, my mother hugged and kissed us, and mourned over us,
begging of us to keep up a good heart, and do our duty to our new masters.
It was a sad parting; one went one way, one another, and our
poor mammy went home with nothing. Open note 2Back to note ²

B3r 5

My new master was a Captain I―, who lived at Spanish Point.
After parting with my mother and sisters, I followed him to his store, and
he gave me into the charge of his son, a lad about my own age, Master
Benjy, who took me to my new home. I did not know where I was
going, or what my new master would do with me. My heart was quite
broken with grief, and my thoughts went back continually to those from
whom I had been so suddenly parted. “Oh, my mother! my mother!”
I kept saying to myself, “Oh, my mammy and my sisters and my brothers,
shall I never see you again!”

Oh, the trials! the trials! they make the salt water come into my
eyes when I think of the days in which I was afflicted—the times that
are gone; when I mourned and grieved with a young heart for those
whom I loved.

It was night when I reached my new home. The house was large,
and built at the bottom of a very high hill; but I could not see much
of it that night. I saw too much of it afterwards. The stones and the
timber were the best things in it; they were not so hard as the hearts of
the owners.Open note 3Back to note ³

Before I entered the house, two slave women, hired from another
owner, who were at work in the yard, spoke to me, and asked who I
belonged to? I replied, “I am come to live here.” “Poor child, poor
child!” they both said; “you must keep a good heart, if you are to
live here.”—When I went in, I stood up crying in a corner. Mrs.
I― came and took off my hat, a little black silk hat Miss Pruden
made for me, and said in a rough voice, “You are not come here to
stand up in corners and cry, you are come here to work.” She then
put a child into my arms, and, tired as I was, I was forced instantly to B3v 6
take up my old occupation of a nurse.—I could not bear to look at
my mistress, her countenance was so stern. She was a stout tall woman
with a very dark complexion, and her brows were always drawn
together into a frown. I thought of the words of the two slave women
when I saw Mrs. I―, and heard the harsh sound of her voice.

The person I took the most notice of that night was a French Black
called Hetty, whom my master took in privateering from another vessel,
and made his slave. She was the most active woman I ever saw, and
she was tasked to her utmost. A few minutes after my arrival she
came in from milking the cows, and put the sweet-potatoes on for
supper. She then fetched home the sheep, and penned them in the
fold; drove home the cattle, and staked them about the pond side;Open note 4Back to note ⁴
fed and rubbed down my master’s horse, and gave the hog and the
fed cowOpen note 5Back to note ⁵ their suppers; prepared the beds, and undressed the
children, and laid them to sleep. I liked to look at her and watch all
her doings, for her’s was the only friendly face I had as yet seen,
and I felt glad that she was there. She gave me my supper of potatoes
and milk, and a blanket to sleep upon, which she spread for me in the
passage before the door of Mrs. I―’s chamber.

I got a sad fright, that night. I was just going to sleep, when I
heard a noise in my mistress’s room; and she presently called out to
inquire if some work was finished that she had ordered Hetty to do.
“No, Ma’am, not yet,” was Hetty’s answer from below. On hearing
this, my master started up from his bed, and just as he was, in his
shirt, ran down stairs with a long cow-skinOpen note 6Back to note ⁶ in his hand. I heard
immediately after, the cracking of the thong, and the house rang to the
shrieks of poor Hetty, who kept crying out, “Oh, Massa! Massa!
me dead. Massa! have mercy upon me—don’t kill me outright.”—
This was a sad beginning for me. I sat up upon my blanket, trembling
with terror, like a frightened hound, and thinking that my turn
would come next. At length the house became still, and I forgot for
a little while all my sorrows by falling fast asleep.

The next morning my mistress set about instructing me in my tasks.
She taught me to do all sorts of household work; to wash and bake, pick
cotton and wool, and wash floors, and cook. And she taught me (how
can I ever forget it!) more things than these; she caused me to know
the exact difference between the smart of the rope, the cart-whip, and
the cow-skin, when applied to my naked body by her own cruel hand.
And there was scarcely any punishment more dreadful than the blows
I received on my face and head from her hard heavy fist. She was
a fearful woman, and a savage mistress to her slaves.

There were two little slave boys in the house, on whom she vented her
bad temper in a special manner. One of these children was a mulatto,
called Cyrus, who had been bought while an infant in his mother’s
arms; the other, Jack, was an African from the coast of Guinea, whom
a sailor had given or sold to my master. Seldom a day passed without B4r 7
these boys receiving the most severe treatment, and often for no fault
at all. Both my master and mistress seemed to think that they had a
right to ill-use them at their pleasure; and very often accompanied
their commands with blows, whether the children were behaving well
or ill. I have seen their flesh ragged and raw with licks.—Lick—lick
—they were never secure one moment from a blow, and their lives were
passed in continual fear. My mistress was not contented with using
the whip, but often pinched their cheeks and arms in the most cruel
manner. My pity for these poor boys was soon transferred to myself; for
I was licked, and flogged, and pinched by her pitiless fingers in the
neck and arms, exactly as they were. To strip me naked—to hang me
up by the wrists and lay my flesh open with the cow-skin, was an ordinary
punishment for even a slight offence. My mistress often robbed
me too of the hours that belong to sleep. She used to sit up very
late, frequently even until morning; and I had then to stand at a bench
and wash during the greater part of the night, or pick wool and cotton;
and often I have dropped down overcome by sleep and fatigue, till
roused from a state of stupor by the whip, and forced to start up to
my tasks.

Poor Hetty, my fellow slave, was very kind to me, and I used to call
her my Aunt; but she led a most miserable life, and her death was
hastened (at least the slaves all believed and said so,) by the dreadful
chastisement she received from my master during her pregnancy. It
happened as follows. One of the cows had dragged the rope away
from the stake to which Hetty had fastened it, and got loose. My
master flew into a terrible passion, and ordered the poor creature to be
stripped quite naked, notwithstanding her pregnancy, and to be tied up
to a tree in the yard. He then flogged her as hard as he could lick,
both with the whip and cow-skin, till she was all over streaming with
blood. He rested, and then beat her again and again. Her shrieks were
terrible. The consequence was that poor Hetty was brought to bed before
her time, and was delivered after severe labour of a dead child. She
appeared to recover after her confinement, so far that she was repeatedly
flogged by both master and mistress afterwards; but her former
strength never returned to her. Ere long her body and limbs swelled
to a great size; and she lay on a mat in the kitchen, till the water
burst out of her body and she died. All the slaves said that death was
a good thing for poor Hetty; but I cried very much for her death. The
manner of it filled me with horror. I could not bear to think about it;
yet it was always present to my mind for many a day.

After Hetty died all her labours fell upon me, in addition to my own.
I had now to milk eleven cows every morning before sunrise, sitting
among the damp weeds; to take care of the cattle as well as the
children; and to do the work of the house. There was no end to my
toils—no end to my blows. I lay down at night and rose up in the morning
in fear and sorrow; and often wished that like poor Hetty I could
escape from this cruel bondage and be at rest in the grave. But the
hand of that God whom then I knew not, was stretched over me; and
I was mercifully preserved for better things. It was then, however, my
heavy lot to weep, weep, weep, and that for years; to pass from one B4v 8
misery to another, and from one cruel master to a worse. But I must
go on with the thread of my story.

One day a heavy squall of wind and rain came on suddenly, and my
mistress sent me round the corner of the house to empty a large
earthen jar. The jar was already cracked with an old deep crack that
divided it in the middle, and in turning it upside down to empty it, it
parted in my hand. I could not help the accident, but I was dreadfully
frightened, looking forward to a severe punishment. I ran crying to my
mistress, “O mistress, the jar has come in two.” “You have broken
it, have you?” she replied; “come directly here to me.” I came trembling:
she stripped and flogged me long and severely with the cowskin;
as long as she had strength to use the lash, for she did not give
over till she was quite tired.—When my master came home at night,
she told him of my fault; and oh, frightful! how he fell a swearing.
After abusing me with every ill name he could think of, (too, too bad
to speak in England,) and giving me several heavy blows with his
hand, he said, “I shall come home to-morrow morning at twelve, on
purpose to give you a round hundred.” He kept his word—Oh sad
for me! I cannot easily forget it. He tied me up upon a ladder, and
gave me a hundred lashes with his own hand, and master Benjy stood by
to count them for him. When he had licked me for some time he
sat down to take breath; then after resting, he beat me again and again,
until he was quite wearied, and so hot (for the weather was very sultry),
that he sank back in his chair, almost like to faint. While my mistress
went to bring him drink, there was a dreadful earthquake. Part of the
roof fell down, and every thing in the house went—clatter, clatter,
clatter. Oh I thought the end of all things near at hand; and I was
so sore with the flogging, that I scarcely cared whether I lived or died.
The earth was groaning and shaking; every thing tumbling about; and
my mistress and the slaves were shrieking and crying out, “The earthquake!
the earthquake!” It was an awful day for us all.

During the confusion I crawled away on my hands and knees, and
laid myself down under the steps of the piazza, in front of the house.
I was in a dreadful state—my body all blood and bruises, and I could
not help moaning piteously. The other slaves, when they saw me,
shook their heads and said, “Poor child! poor child!”—I lay there
till the morning, careless of what might happen, for life was very weak
in me, and I wished more than ever to die. But when we are very
young, death always seems a great way off, and it would not come that
night to me. The next morning I was forced by my master to rise and
go about my usual work, though my body and limbs were so stiff
and sore, that I could not move without the greatest pain.—Nevertheless,
even after all this severe punishment, I never heard the last of
that jar; my mistress was always throwing it in my face.

Some little time after this, one of the cows got loose from the stake,
and eat one of the sweet-potatoe slips. I was milking when my master
found it out. He came to me, and without any more ado, stooped
down, and taking off his heavy boot, he struck me such a severe blow
in the small of my back, that I shrieked with agony, and thought I was
killed; and I feel a weakness in that part to this day. The cow was C1r 9
frightened at his violence, and kicked down the pail and spilt the milk
all about. My master knew that this accident was his own fault, but
he was so enraged that he seemed glad of an excuse to go on with his
ill usage. I cannot remember how many licks he gave me then, but he
beat me till I was unable to stand, and till he himself was weary.

After this I ran away and went to my mother, who was living with
Mr. Richard Darrel. My poor mother was both grieved and glad to
see me; grieved because I had been so ill used, and glad because she
had not seen me for a long, long while. She dared not receive me into
the house, but she hid me up in a hole in the rocks near, and brought
me food at night, after every body was asleep. My father, who lived at
Crow-Lane, over the salt-water channel, at last heard of my being hid
up in the cavern, and he came and took me back to my master.
Oh I was loth, loth to go back; but as there was no remedy, I was
obliged to submit.

When we got home, my poor father said to Captain I―, “Sir, I am
sorry that my child should be forced to run away from her owner; but
the treatment she has received is enough to break her heart. The sight
of her wounds has nearly broke mine.—I entreat you, for the love of
God, to forgive her for running away, and that you will be a kind
master to her in future.” Capt. I― said I was used as well as I
deserved, and that I ought to be punished for running away. I then
took courage and said that I could stand the floggings no longer; that I
was weary of my life, and therefore I had run away to my mother; but
mothers could only weep and mourn over their children, they could not
save them from cruel masters—from the whip, the rope, and the cowskin.
He told me to hold my tongue and go about my work, or he
would find a way to settle me. He did not, however, flog me that day.

For five years after this I remained in his house, and almost daily
received the same harsh treatment. At length he put me on board a
sloop, and to my great joy sent me away to Turk’s Island. I was not
permitted to see my mother or father, or poor sisters and brothers, to
say good bye, though going away to a strange land, and might never
see them again. Oh the Buckra people who keep slaves think that
black people are like cattle, without natural affection. But my heart
tells me it is far otherwise.

We were nearly four weeks on the voyage, which was unusually long.
Sometimes we had a light breeze, sometimes a great calm, and the ship
made no way; so that our provisions and water ran very low, and we
were put upon short allowance. I should almost have been starved had
it not been for the kindness of a black man called Anthony, and his
wife, who had brought their own victuals, and shared them with me.

When we went ashore at the Grand Quay, the captain sent me to
the house of my new master, Mr. D―, to whom Captain I―
had sold me. Grand Quay is a small town upon a sandbank; the
houses low and built of wood. Such was my new master’s. The first
person I saw, on my arrival, was Mr. D―, a stout sulky looking man,
who carried me through the hall to show me to his wife and children.
Next day I was put up by the vendue master to know how much I was
worth, and I was valued at one hundred pounds currency.

C C1v 10

My new master was one of the owners or holders of the salt ponds,
and he received a certain sum for every slave that worked upon his
premises, whether they were young or old. This sum was allowed him
out of the profits arising from the salt works. I was immediately sent
to work in the salt water with rest of the slaves. This work was
perfectly new to me. I was given a half barrel and a shovel, and had
to stand up to my knees in the water, from four o’clock in the morning
till nine, when we were given some Indian corn boiled in water, which
we were obliged to swallow as fast as we could for fear the rain should
come on and melt the salt. We were then called again to our tasks,
and worked through the heat of the day; the sun flaming upon our
heads like fire, and raising salt blisters in those parts which were not
completely covered. Our feet and legs, from standing in the salt water
for so many hours, soon became full of dreadful boils, which eat down
in some cases to the very bone, afflicting the sufferers with great torment.
We came home at twelve; ate our corn soup, called blawly, as
fast as we could, and went back to our employment till dark at night.
We then shovelled up the salt in large heaps, and went down to the sea,
where we washed the pickle from our limbs, and cleaned the barrows
and shovels from the salt. When we returned to the house, our master
gave us each our allowance of raw Indian corn, which we pounded
in a mortar and boiled in water for our suppers.

We slept in a long shed, divided into narrow slips, like the stalls
used for cattle. Boards fixed upon stakes driven into the ground, without
mat or covering, were our only beds. On Sundays, after we had
washed the salt bags, and done other work required of us, we went into
the bush and cut the long soft grass, of which we made trusses for our
legs and feet to rest upon, for they were so full of the salt boils that
we could get no rest lying upon the bare boards.

Though we worked from morning till night, there was no satisfying
Mr. D‒. I hoped, when I left Capt. I―, that I should have been
better off, but I found it was but going from one butcher to another.
There was this difference between them: my former master used to
beat me while raging and foaming with passion; Mr. D― was
usually quite calm. He would stand by and give orders for a slave to
be cruelly whipped, and assist in the punishment, without moving a
muscle of his face; walking about and taking snuff with the greatest
composure. Nothing could touch his hard heart—neither sighs, nor
tears, nor prayers, nor streaming blood; he was deaf to our cries, and
careless of our sufferings.—Mr. D― has often stripped me naked,
hung me up by the wrists, and beat me with the cow-skin, with his own
hand, till my body was raw with gashes. Yet there was nothing very
remarkable in this; for it might serve as a sample of the common
usage of the slaves on that horrible island.

Owing to the boils in my feet, I was unable to wheel the barrow fast
through the sand, which got into the sores, and made me stumble at
every step; and my master, having no pity for my sufferings from this
cause, rendered them far more intolerable, by chastising me for not
being able to move so fast as he wished me. Another of our employments
was to row a little way off from the shore in a boat, and dive C2r 11
for large stones to build a wall round our master’s house. This was
very hard work; and the great waves breaking over us continually,
made us often so giddy that we lost our footing, and were in danger of
being drowned.

Ah, poor me!—my tasks were never ended. Sick or well, it was
work—work—work!—After the diving season was over, we were sent
to the South Creek, with large bills, to cut up mangoes to burn lime
with. Whilst one party of slaves were thus employed, another were
sent to the other side of the island to break up coral out of the sea.

When we were ill, let our complaint be what it might, the only
medicine given to us was a great bowl of hot salt water, with salt mixed
with it, which made us very sick. If we could not keep up with the
rest of the gang of slaves, we were put in the stocks, and severely flogged
the next morning. Yet, not the less, our master expected, after
we had thus been kept from our rest, and our limbs rendered stiff
and sore with ill usage, that we should still go through the ordinary
tasks of the day all the same.—Sometimes we had to work all
night, measuring salt to load a vessel; or turning a machine to draw
water out of the sea for the salt-making. Then we had no sleep—no
rest—but were forced to work as fast as we could, and go on again all
next day the same as usual. Work—work—work—Oh that Turk’s
Island was a horrible place! The people in England, I am sure, have
never found out what is carried on there. Cruel, horrible place!

Mr. D― had a slave called old Daniel, whom he used to treat in
the most cruel manner. Poor Daniel was lame in the hip, and could
not keep up with the rest of the slaves; and our master would order
him to be stripped and laid down on the ground, and have him beaten
with a rod of rough briar till his skin was quite red and raw. He
would then call for a bucket of salt, and fling upon the raw flesh
till the man writhed on the ground like a worm, and screamed aloud
with agony. This poor man’s wounds were never healed, and I have
often seen them full of maggots, which increased his torments to an
intolerable degree. He was an object of pity and terror to the whole
gang of slaves, and in his wretched case we saw, each of us, our own
lot, if we should live to be as old.

Oh the horrors of slavery!—How the thought of it pains my heart!
But the truth ought to be told of it; and what my eyes have seen I think
it is my duty to relate; for few people in England know what slavery
is. I have been a slave—I have felt what a slave feels, and I know
what a slave knows; and I would have all the good people in England
to know it too, that they may break our chains, and set us free.

Mr. D— had another slave called Ben. He being very hungry,
stole a little rice one night after he came in from work, and cooked it
for his supper. But his master soon discovered the theft; locked him
up all night; and kept him without food till one o’clock the next day.
He then hung Ben up by his hands and beat him from time to time till
the slaves came in at night. We found the poor creature hung up when
we came home; with a pool of blood beneath him, and our master still
licking him. But this was not the worst. My master’s son was in the
habit of stealing the rice and rum. Ben had seen him do this, and
thought he might do the same, and when master found out that Ben C2v 12
had stolen the rice and swore to punish him, he tried to excuse himself
by saying that Master Dickey did the same thing every night. The lad
denied it to his father, and was so angry with Ben for informing against
him, that out of revenge he ran and got a bayonet, and whilst the poor
wretch was suspended by his hands and writhing under his wounds, he
run it quite through his foot. I was not by when he did it, but I saw
the wound when I came home, and heard Ben tell the manner in which
it was done.

I must say something more about this cruel son of a cruel father.—
He had no heart—no fear of God; he had been brought up by a bad
father in a bad path, and he delighted to follow in the same steps.
There was a little old woman among the slaves called Sarah, who was
nearly past work; and, Master Dickey being the overseer of the slaves
just then, this poor creature, who was subject to several bodily infirmities,
and was not quite right in her head, did not wheel the barrow fast
enough to please him. He threw her down on the ground, and after
beating her severely, he took her up in his arms and flung her among
the prickly-pear bushes, which are all covered over with sharp venomous
prickles. By this her naked flesh was so grievously wounded, that her
body swelled and festered all over, and she died a few days after. In
telling my own sorrows, I cannot pass by those of my fellow-slaves
—for when I think of my own griefs, I remember theirs.

I think it was about ten years I had worked in the salt ponds at
Turk’s Island, when my master left off business, and retired to a house
he had in Bermuda, leaving his son to succeed him in the island. He
took me with him to wait upon his daughters; and I was joyful, for I
was sick, sick of Turk’s Island, and my heart yearned to see my native
place again, my mother, and my kindred.

I had seen my poor mother during the time I was a slave in Turk’s
Island. One Sunday morning I was on the beach with some of the
slaves, and we saw a sloop come in loaded with slaves to work in the
salt water. We got a boat and went aboard. When I came upon the
deck I asked the black people, “Is there any one here for me?”
“Yes,” they said, “your mother.” I thought they said this in jest—I
could scarcely believe them for joy; but when I saw my poor mammy
my joy was turned to sorrow, for she had gone from her senses.
“Mammy,” I said, “is this you?” She did not know me. “Mammy,”
I said, “what’s the matter?” She began to talk foolishly, and
said that she had been under the vessel’s bottom. They had been overtaken
by a violent storm at sea. My poor mother had never been on the
sea before, and she was so ill, that she lost her senses, and it was long
before she came quite to herself again. She had a sweet child with her
—a little sister I had never seen, about four years of age, called
Rebecca. I took her on shore with me, for I felt I should love her
directly; and I kept her with me a week. Poor little thing! her’s has
been a sad life, and continues so to this day. My mother worked for
some years on the island, but was taken back to Bermuda some time
before my master carried me again thither. Open note 7Back to note ⁷

C3r 13

After I left Turk’s Island, I was told by some negroes that came over
from it, that the poor slaves had built up a place with boughs and
leaves, where they might meet for prayers, but the white people pulled it
down twice, and would not allow them even a shed for prayers. A
flood came down soon after and washed away many houses, filled the
place with sand, and overflowed the ponds: and I do think that this
was for their wickedness; for the Buckra menOpen note 8Back to note ⁸ there were very wicked.
I saw and heard much that was very very bad at that place.

I was several years the slave of Mr. D― after I returned to my
native place. Here I worked in the grounds. My work was planting
and hoeing sweet-potatoes, Indian corn, plaintains, bananas, cabbages,
pumpkins, onions, &c. I did all the household work, and attended
upon a horse and cow besides,—going also upon all errands. I had to
curry the horse—to clean and feed him—and sometimes to ride him a
little. I had more than enough to do—but still it was not so very bad
as Turk’s Island.

My old master often got drunk, and then he would get in a fury
with his daughter, and beat her till she was not fit to be seen.
I remember on one occasion, I had gone to fetch water, and when I
was coming up the hill I heard a great screaming; I ran as fast as I
could to the house, put down the water, and went into the chamber,
where I found my master beating Miss D— dreadfully. I strove with
all my strength to get her away from him; for she was all black and
blue with bruises. He had beat her with his fist, and almost killed her.
The people gave me credit for getting her away. He turned round and
began to lick me. Then I said, “Sir, this is not Turk’s Island.” I can’t
repeat his answer, the words were too wicked—too bad to say. He
wanted to treat me the same in Bermuda as he had done in Turk’s
Island.

He had an ugly fashion of stripping himself quite naked, and ordering
me then to wash him in a tub of water. This was worse to me than all
the licks. Sometimes when he called me to wash him I would not come,
my eyes were so full of shame. He would then come to beat me. One
time I had plates and knives in my hand, and I dropped both plates and
knives, and some of the plates were broken. He struck me so severely
for this, that at last I defended myself, for I thought it was high time
to do so. I then told him I would not live longer with him, for he was
a very indecent man—very spiteful, and too indecent; with no shame
for his servants, no shame for his own flesh. So I went away to a neighbouring
house and sat down and cried till the next morning, when I
went home again, not knowing what else to do.

After that I was hired to work at Cedar Hills, and every Saturday
night I paid the money to my master. I had plenty of work to do there— C3v 14
plenty of washing; but yet I made myself pretty comfortable. I earned
two dollars and a quarter a week, which is twenty pence a day.

During the time I worked there, I heard that Mr. John Wood was
going to Antigua. I felt a great wish to go there, and I went to
Mr. D―, and asked him to let me go in Mr. Wood’s service. Mr.
Wood did not then want to purchase me; it was my own fault that I
came under him, I was so anxious to go. It was ordained to be, I suppose;
God led me there. The truth is, I did not wish to be any longer
the slave of my indecent master.

Mr. Wood took me with him to Antigua, to the town of St. John’s,
where he lived. This was about fifteen years ago. He did not then
know whether I was to be sold; but Mrs. Wood found that I could
work, and she wanted to buy me. Her husband then wrote to my
master to inquire whether I was to be sold? Mr. D― wrote in reply,
“that I should not be sold to any one that would treat me ill.” It was
strange he should say this, when he had treated me so ill himself. So
I was purchased by Mr. Wood for 300 dollars, (or £100 Bermuda
currency.)Open note 9Back to note ⁹

My work there was to attend the chambers and nurse the child, and
to go down to the pond and wash clothes. But I soon fell ill of the
rheumatism, and grew so very lame that I was forced to walk with a
stick. I got the Saint Anthony’s fire, also, in my left leg, and became
quite a cripple. No one cared much to come near me, and I was ill a
long long time; for several months I could not lift the limb. I had to
lie in a little old out-house, that was swarming with bugs and other
vermin, which tormented me greatly; but I had no other place to lie in.
I got the rheumatism by catching cold at the pond side, from washing
in the fresh water; in the salt water I never got cold. The person
who lived in next yard, (a Mrs. Greene,) could not bear to hear my
cries and groans. She was kind, and used to send an old slave woman
to help me, who sometimes brought me a little soup. When the doctor
found I was so ill, he said I must be put into a bath of hot water. The
old slave got the bark of some bush that was good for the pains, which
she boiled in the hot water, and every night she came and put me into
the bath, and did what she could for me: I don’t know what I should
have done, or what would have become of me, had it not been for her.
—My mistress, it is true, did send me a little food; but no one from
our family came near me but the cook, who used to shove my food in at
the door, and say, “Molly, Molly, there’s your dinner.” My mistress
did not care to take any trouble about me; and if the Lord had not put
it into the hearts of the neighbours to be kind to me, I must, I really
think, have lain and died.

It was a long time before I got well enough to work in the house.
Mrs. Wood, in the meanwhile, hired a mulatto woman to nurse the
child; but she was such a fine lady she wanted to be mistress over me.
I thought it very hard for a coloured woman to have rule over me because
I was a slave and she was free. Her name was Martha Wilcox;
she was a saucy woman, very saucy; and she went and complained of C4r 15
me, without cause, to my mistress, and made her angry with me. Mrs.
Wood told me that if I did not mind what I was about, she would
get my master to strip me and give me fifty lashes: “You have been
used to the whip,” she said, “and you shall have it here.” This was the
first time she threatened to have me flogged; and she gave me the threatening
so strong of what she would have done to me, that I thought I
should have fallen down at her feet, I was so vexed and hurt by her
words. The mulatto woman was rejoiced to have power to keep me
down. She was constantly making mischief; there was no living for
the slaves—no peace after she came.

I was also sent by Mrs. Wood to be put in the Cage one night, and
was next morning flogged, by the magistrate’s order, at her desire;
and this all for a quarrel I had about a pig with another slave woman.
I was flogged on my naked back on this occasion: although I
was in no fault after all; for old Justice Dyett, when we came before
him, said that I was in the right, and ordered the pig to be given to me.
This was about two or three years after I came to Antigua.

When we moved from the middle of the town to the Point, I used to
be in the house and do all the work and mind the children, though still
very ill with the rheumatism. Every week I had to wash two large
bundles of clothes, as much as a boy could help me to lift; but I could
give no satisfaction. My mistress was always abusing and fretting after
me. It is not possible to tell all her ill language.—One day she followed
me foot after foot scolding and rating me. I bore in silence a
great deal of ill words: at last my heart was quite full, and I told her
that she ought not to use me so;—that when I was ill I might have lain
and died for what she cared; and no one would then come near me to
nurse me, because they were afraid of my mistress. This was a great
affront. She called her husband and told him what I had said. He
flew into a passion: but did not beat me then; he only abused and
swore at me; and then gave me a note and bade me go and look for an
owner. Not that he meant to sell me; but he did this to please his
wife and frighten me. I went to Adam White, a cooper, a free black,
who had money, and asked him to buy me. He went directly to Mr.
Wood, but was informed that I was not to be sold. The next day my
master whipped me.

Another time (about five years ago) my mistress got vexed with me,
because I fell sick and I could not keep on with my work. She complained
to her husband, and he sent me off again to look for an owner.
I went to a Mr. Burchell, showed him the note, and asked him to buy
me for my own benefit; for I had saved about 100 dollars, and hoped,
with a little help, to purchase my freedom. He accordingly went to
my master:—“Mr. Wood,” he said, “Molly has brought me a note
that she wants an owner. If you intend to sell her, I may as well buy
her as another.” My master put him off and said that he did not
mean to sell me. I was very sorry at this, for I had no comfort with
Mrs. Wood, and I wished greatly to get my freedom.

The way in which I made my money was this.—When my master
and mistress went from home, as they sometimes did, and left me to
take care of the house and premises, I had a good deal of time to myself,
and made the most of it. I took in washing, and sold coffee and yams C4v 16
and other provisions to the captains of ships. I did not sit still idling
during the absence of my owners; for I wanted, by all honest means, to
earn money to buy my freedom. Sometimes I bought a hog cheap on
board ship, and sold it for double the money on shore; and I also earned
a good deal by selling coffee. By this means I by degrees acquired a
little cash. A gentleman also lent me some to help to buy my freedom
—but when I could not get free he got it back again. His name
was Captain Abbot.

My master and mistress went on one occasion into the country, to
Date Hill, for change of air, and carried me with them to take charge
of the children, and to do the work of the house. While I was in the
country, I saw how the field negroes are worked in Antigua. They
are worked very hard and fed but scantily. They are called out to
work before daybreak, and come home after dark; and then each has
to heave his bundle of grass for the cattle in the pen. Then, on Sunday
morning, each slave has to go out and gather a large bundle of grass;
and, when they bring it home, they have all to sit at the manager’s
door and wait till he come out: often have they to wait there till past
eleven o’clock, without any breakfast. After that, those that have yams
or potatoes, or fire-wood to sell, hasten to market to buy a dog’s
worthOpen note 10Back to note ¹⁰ of salt fish, or pork, which is a great treat for them. Some of
them buy a little pickle out of the shad barrels, which they call sauce,
to season their yams and Indian corn. It is very wrong, I know,
to work on Sunday or go to market; but will not God call the Buckra
men to answer for this on the great day of judgment—since they will
give the slaves no other day?

While we were at Date Hill Christmas came; and the slave woman
who had the care of the place (which then belonged to Mr. Roberts
the marshal), asked me to go with her to her husband’s house, to a
Methodist meeting for prayer, at a plantation called Winthorps. I
went; and they were the first prayers I ever understood. One woman
prayed; and then they all sung a hymn; then there was another prayer
and another hymn; and then they all spoke by turns of their own
griefs as sinners. The husband of the woman I went with was a
black driver. His name was Henry. He confessed that he had treated
the slaves very cruelly; but said that he was compelled to obey the
orders of his master. He prayed them all to forgive him, and he
prayed that God would forgive him. He said it was a horrid thing
for a rangerOpen note 11Back to note ¹¹ to have sometimes to beat his own wife or sister; but he
must do so if ordered by his master.

I felt sorry for my sins also. I cried the whole night, but I was too
much ashamed to speak. I prayed God to forgive me. This meeting
had a great impression on my mind, and led my spirit to the Moravian
church; so that when I got back to town, I went and prayed to have
my name put down in the Missionaries’ book; and I followed the church
earnestly every opportunity. I did not then tell my mistress about it; for
I knew that she would not give me leave to go. But I felt I must go. D1r 17
Whenever I carried the children their lunch at school, I ran round and
went to hear the teachers.

The Moravian ladies (Mrs. Richter, Mrs. Olufsen, and Mrs. Sauter)
taught me to read in the class; and I got on very fast. In this class
there were all sorts of people, old and young, grey headed folks and
children; but most of them were free people. After we had done
spelling, we tried to read in the Bible. After the reading was over, the
missionary gave out a hymn for us to sing. I dearly loved to go to the
church, it was so solemn. I never knew rightly that I had much sin
till I went there. When I found out that I was a great sinner, I was
very sorely grieved, and very much frightened. I used to pray God to
pardon my sins for Christ’s sake, and forgive me for every thing I had
done amiss; and when I went home to my work, I always thought about
what I had heard from the missionaries, and wished to be good that I
might go to heaven. After a while I was admitted a candidate for the holy
Communion.—I had been baptized long before this, in 1817-08August 1817, by
the Rev. Mr. Curtin, of the English Church, after I had been taught to repeat
the Creed and the Lord’s Prayer. I wished at that time to attend
a Sunday School taught by Mr. Curtin, but he would not receive me
without a written note from my master, granting his permission. I did
not ask my owner’s permission, from the belief that it would be refused;
so that I got no farther instruction at that time from the English Church. Open note 12Back to note ¹²

Some time after I began to attend the Moravian Church, I met with
Daniel James, afterwards my dear husband. He was a carpenter and
cooper to his trade; an honest, hardworking, decent black man, and a
widower. He had purchased his freedom of his mistress, old Mrs.
Baker, with money he had earned whilst a slave. When he asked me
to marry him, I took time to consider the matter over with myself, and
would not say yes till he went to church with me and joined the
Moravians. He was very industrious after he bought his freedom;
and he had hired a comfortable house, and had convenient things about
him. We were joined in marriage, about 1826-12-25Christmas 1826, in the Moravian
Chapel at Spring Gardens, by the Rev. Mr. Olufsen. We could
not be married in the English Church. English marriage is not allowed
to slaves; and no free man can marry a slave woman.

When Mr. Wood heard of my marriage, he flew into a great rage, and
sent for Daniel, who was helping to build a house for his old mistress.
Mr. Wood asked him who gave him a right to marry a slave of his?
My husband said, “Sir, I am a free man, and thought I had a right to
choose a wife; but if I had known Molly was not allowed to have a
husband, I should not have asked her to marry me.” Mrs. Wood was
more vexed about my marriage than her husband. She could not forgiveD D1v 18
me for getting married, but stirred up Mr. Wood to flog me dreadfully
with the horsewhip. I thought it very hard to be whipped at my
time of life for getting a husband—I told her so. She said that she
would not have nigger men about the yards and premises, or allow a
nigger man’s clothes to be washed in the same tub where hers were
washed. She was fearful, I think, that I should lose her time, in
order to wash and do things for my husband: but I had then no time
to wash for myself; I was obliged to put out my own clothes, though I
was always at the wash-tub.

I had not much happiness in my marriage, owing to my being a
slave. It made my husband sad to see me so ill-treated. Mrs. Wood
was always abusing me about him. She did not lick me herself, but
she got her husband to do it for her, whilst she fretted the flesh off my
bones. Yet for all this she would not sell me. She sold five slaves whilst
I was with her; but though she was always finding fault with me, she
would not part with me. However, Mr. Wood afterwards allowed Daniel
to have a place to live in our yard, which we were very thankful for.

After this, I fell ill again with the rheumatism, and was sick a long
time; but whether sick or well, I had my work to do. About this
time I asked my master and mistress to let me buy my own freedom.
With the help of Mr. Burchell, I could have found the means to pay
Mr. Wood; for it was agreed that I should afterwards serve Mr. Burchell
a while, for the cash he was to advance for me. I was earnest in
the request to my owners; but their hearts were hard—too hard to
consent. Mrs. Wood was very angry—she grew quite outrageous—
she called me a black devil, and asked me who had put freedom into
my head. “To be free is very sweet,” I said: but she took good care
to keep me a slave. I saw her change colour, and I left the room.

About this time my master and mistress were going to England to put
their son to school, and bring their daughters home; and they took me
with them to take care of the child. I was willing to come to England:
I thought that by going there I should probably get cured of my rheumatism,
and should return with my master and mistress, quite well, to my
husband. My husband was willing for me to come away, for he had heard
that my master would free me,—and I also hoped this might prove
true; but it was all a false report.

The steward of the ship was very kind to me. He and my husband
were in the same class in the Moravian Church. I was thankful that
he was so friendly, for my mistress was not kind to me on the passage;
and she told me, when she was angry, that she did not intend to treat
me any better in England than in the West Indies—that I need not
expect it. And she was as good as her word.

When we drew near to England, the rheumatism seized all my
limbs worse than ever, and my body was dreadfully swelled. When
we landed at the Tower, I shewed my flesh to my mistress, but she took
no great notice of it. We were obliged to stop at the tavern till my
master got a house; and a day or two after, my mistress sent me down
into the wash-house to learn to wash in the English way. In the West
Indies we wash with cold water—in England with hot. I told my mistress
I was afraid that putting my hands first into the hot water and then D2r 19
into the cold, would increase the pain in my limbs. The doctor had told
my mistress long before I came from the West Indies, that I was a
sickly body and the washing did not agree with me. But Mrs. Wood
would not release me from the tub, so I was forced to do as I could.
I grew worse, and could not stand to wash. I was then forced to sit
down with the tub before me, and often through pain and weakness was
reduced to kneel or to sit down on the floor, to finish my task. When
I complained to my mistress of this, she only got into a passion as
usual, and said washing in hot water could not hurt any one;—that I
was lazy and insolent, and wanted to be free of my work; but that she
would make me do it. I thought her very hard on me, and my heart
rose up within me. However I kept still at that time, and went down
again to wash the child’s things; but the English washerwomen who
were at work there, when they saw that I was so ill, had pity upon me
and washed them for me.

After that, when we came up to live in Leigh Street, Mrs. Wood
sorted out five bags of clothes which we had used at sea, and also such
as had been worn since we came on shore, for me and the cook to
wash. Elizabeth the cook told her, that she did not think that I was able
to stand to the tub, and that she had better hire a woman. I also said
myself, that I had come over to nurse the child, and that I was sorry I
had come from Antigua, since mistress would work me so hard, without
compassion for my rheumatism. Mr. and Mrs. Wood, when they heard
this, rose up in a passion against me. They opened the door and bade
me get out. But I was a stranger, and did not know one door in the
street from another, and was unwilling to go away. They made a
dreadful uproar, and from that day they constantly kept cursing and
abusing me. I was obliged to wash, though I was very ill. Mrs.
Wood, indeed once hired a washerwoman, but she was not well treated,
and would come no more.

My master quarrelled with me another time, about one of our great
washings, his wife having stirred him up to do so. He said he would
compel me to do the whole of the washing given out to me, or if I again
refused, he would take a short course with me: he would either send
me down to the brig in the river, to carry me back to Antigua, or he
would turn me at once out of doors, and let me provide for myself. I
said I would willingly go back, if he would let me purchase my own
freedom. But this enraged him more than all the rest: he cursed and
swore at me dreadfully, and said he would never sell my freedom—if I
wished to be free, I was free in England, and I might go and try
what freedom would do for me, and be d―d. My heart was very
sore with this treatment, but I had to go on. I continued to do my
work, and did all I could to give satisfaction, but all would not do.

Shortly after, the cook left them, and then matters went on ten times
worse. I always washed the child’s clothes without being commanded
to do it, and any thing else that was wanted in the family; though still I
was very sick—very sick indeed. When the great washing came round,
which was every two months, my mistress got together again a great
many heavy things, such as bed-ticks, bed-coverlets, &c. for me to
wash. I told her I was too ill to wash such heavy things that day. D2v 20
She said, she supposed I thought myself a free woman, but I was not:
and if I did not do it directly I should be instantly turned out of doors.
I stood a long time before I could answer, for I did not know well
what to do. I knew that I was free in England, but I did not know
where to go, or how to get my living; and therefore, I did not like to
leave the house. But Mr. Wood said he would send for a constable to
thrust me out; and at last I took courage and resolved that I would
not be longer thus treated, but would go and trust to Providence. This
was the fourth time they had threatened to turn me out, and, go where
I might, I was determined now to take them at their word; though I
thought it very hard, after I had lived with them for thirteen years, and
worked for them like a horse, to be driven out in this way, like a
beggar. My only fault was being sick, and therefore unable to please
my mistress, who thought she never could get work enough out of her
slaves; and I told them so: but they only abused me and drove me
out. This took place from two to three months, I think, after we came
to England.

When I came away, I went to the man (one Mash) who used to black
the shoes of the family, and asked his wife to get somebody to go with
me to Hatton Garden to the Moravian Missionaries: these were the
only persons I knew in England. The woman sent a young girl with
me to the mission house, and I saw there a gentleman called Mr. Moore.
I told him my whole story, and how my owners had treated me, and
asked him to take in my trunk with what few clothes I had. The
missionaries were very kind to me—they were sorry for my destitute
situation, and gave me leave to bring my things to be placed under
their care. They were very good people, and they told me to come to
the church.

When I went back to Mr. Wood’s to get my trunk, I saw a lady,
Mrs. Pell, who was on a visit to my mistress. When Mr. and Mrs.
Wood heard me come in, they set this lady to stop me, finding that they
had gone too far with me. Mrs. Pell came out to me, and said, “Are
you really going to leave, Molly? Don’t leave, but come into the country
with me.” I believe she said this because she thought Mrs. Wood
would easily get me back again. I replied to her, “Ma’am, this is the
fourth time my master and mistress have driven me out, or threatened
to drive me—and I will give them no more occasion to bid me go. I was
not willing to leave them, for I am a stranger in this country, but now I
must go—I can stay no longer to be so used.” Mrs. Pell then went up
stairs to my mistress, and told that I would go, and that she could not
stop me. Mrs. Wood was very much hurt and frightened when she
found I was determined to go out that day. She said, “If she goes
the people will rob her, and then turn her adrift.” She did not say this
to me, but she spoke it loud enough for me to hear; that it might induce
me not to go, I suppose. Mr. Wood also asked me where I was going to.
I told him where I had been, and that I should never have gone away
had I not been driven out by my owners. He had given me a written
paper some time before, which said that I had come with them to England
by my own desire; and that was true. It said also that I left them
of my own free will, because I was a free woman in England; and that D3r 21
I was idle and would not do my work—which was not true. I gave
this paper afterwards to a gentleman who inquired into my case. Open note 13Back to note ¹³

I went into the kitchen and got my clothes out. The nurse and the
servant girl were there, and I said to the man who was going to take out
my trunk, “Stop, before you take up this trunk, and hear what I have
to say before these people. I am going out of this house, as I was
ordered; but I have done no wrong at all to my owners, neither here
nor in the West Indies. I always worked very hard to please them,
both by night and day; but there was no giving satisfaction, for my
mistress could never be satisfied with reasonable service. I told my
mistress I was sick, and yet she has ordered me out of doors. This is
the fourth time; and now I am going out.”

And so I came out, and went and carried my trunk to the Moravians.
I then returned back to Mash the shoe-black’s house, and begged his
wife to take me in. I had a little West Indian money in my trunk;
and they got it changed for me. This helped to support me for a little
while. The man’s wife was very kind to me. I was very sick, and she
boiled nourishing things up for me. She also sent for a doctor to see
me, and he sent me medicine, which did me good, though I was ill for
a long time with the rheumatic pains. I lived a good many months
with these poor people, and they nursed me, and did all that lay in their
power to serve me. The man was well acquainted with my situation,
as he used to go to and fro to Mr. Wood’s house to clean shoes and
knives; and he and his wife were sorry for me.

About this time, a woman of the name of Hill told me of the Anti-
Slavery Society, and went with me to their office, to inquire if they
could do any thing to get me my freedom, and send me back to the
West Indies. The gentlemen of the Society took me to a lawyer, who
examined very strictly into my case; but told me that the laws of England
could do nothing to make me free in Antigua.Open note 14Back to note ¹⁴ However they did
all they could for me: they gave me a little money from time to time to
keep me from want; and some of them went to Mr. Wood to try to
persuade him to let me return a free woman to my husband; but
though they offered him, as I have heard, a large sum for my freedom,
he was sulky and obstinate, and would not consent to let me go free.

This was the first winter I spent in England, and I suffered much
from the severe cold, and from the rheumatic pains, which still at times
torment me. However, Providence was very good to me, and I got
many friends—especially some Quaker ladies, who hearing of my case,
came and sought me out, and gave me good warm clothing and money.
Thus I had great cause to bless God in my affliction.

When I got better I was anxious to get some work to do, as I was
unwilling to eat the bread of idleness. Mrs. Mash, who was a laundress,
recommended me to a lady for a charwoman. She paid me very
handsomely for what work I did, and I divided the money with Mrs. D3v 22
Mash; for though very poor, they gave me food when my own money
was done, and never suffered me to want.

In the spring, I got into service with a lady, who saw me at the
house where I sometimes worked as a charwoman. This lady’s name
was Mrs. Forsyth. She had been in the West Indies, and was accustomed
to Blacks, and liked them. I was with her six months, and
went with her to Margate. She treated me well, and gave me a good
character when she left London. Open note 15Back to note ¹⁵

After Mrs. Forsyth went away, I was again out of place, and went to
lodgings, for which I paid two shillings a week, and found coals and
candle. After eleven weeks, the money I had saved in service was all
gone, and I was forced to go back to the Anti-Slavery office to ask a
supply, till I could get another situation. I did not like to go back—
I did not like to be idle. I would rather work for my living than get
it for nothing. They were very good to give me a supply, but I felt
shame at being obliged to apply for relief whilst I had strength to
work.

At last I went into the service of Mr. and Mrs. Pringle, where I have
been ever since, and am as comfortable as I can be while separated from
my dear husband, and away from my own country and all old friends
and connections. My dear mistress teaches me daily to read the word
of God, and takes great pains to make me understand it. I enjoy the
great privilege of being enabled to attend church three times on the
Sunday; and I have met with many kind friends since I have been
here, both clergymen and others. The Rev. Mr. Young, who lives
in the next house, has shown me much kindness, and taken much pains
to instruct me, particularly while my master and mistress were absent
in Scotland. Nor must I forget, among my friends, the Rev. Mr.
Mortimer, the good clergyman of the parish, under whose ministry I
have now sat for upwards of twelve months. I trust in God
I have profited by what I have heard from him. He never keeps back
the truth, and I think he has been the means of opening my eyes and
ears much better to understand the word of God. Mr. Mortimer tells
me that he cannot open the eyes of my heart, but that I must pray to
God to change my heart, and make me to know the truth, and the truth
will make me free.

I still live in the hope that God will find a way to give me my liberty,
and give me back to my husband. I endeavour to keep down my fretting,
and to leave all to Him, for he knows what is good for me better
than I know myself. Yet, I must confess, I find it a hard and heavy
task to do so.

I am often much vexed, and I feel great sorrow when I hear some
people in this country say, that the slaves do not need better usage,
and do not want to be free.Open note 16Back to note ¹⁶ They believe the foreign people,Open note 17Back to note ¹⁷ who
deceive them, and say slaves are happy. I say, Not so. How can
slaves be happy when they have the halter round their neck and the D4r 23
whip upon their back? and are disgraced and thought no more of
than beasts?—and are separated from their mothers, and husbands,
and children, and sisters, just as cattle are sold and separated? Is
it happiness for a driver in the field to take down his wife or sister or
child, and strip them, and whip them in such a disgraceful manner?
—women that have had children exposed in the open field to shame!
There is no modesty or decency shown by the owner to his slaves;
men, women, and children are exposed alike. Since I have been here
I have often wondered how English people can go out into the West
Indies and act in such a beastly manner. But when they go to the
West Indies, they forget God and all feeling of shame, I think, since
they can see and do such things. They tie up slaves like hogs—moorOpen note 18Back to note ¹⁸
them up like cattle, and they lick them, so as hogs, or cattle, or horses
never were flogged;—and yet they come home and say, and make
some good people believe, that slaves don’t want to get out of slavery.
But they put a cloak about the truth. It is not so. All slaves want to
be free—to be free is very sweet. I will say the truth to English people
who may read this history that my good friend, Miss S―, is now
writing down for me. I have been a slave myself—I know what slaves
feel—I can tell by myself what other slaves feel, and by what they have
told me. The man that says slaves be quite happy in slavery—that
they don’t want to be free—that man is either ignorant or a lying person.
I never heard a slave say so. I never heard a Buckra man say so,
till I heard tell of it in England. Such people ought to be ashamed of
themselves. They can’t do without slaves, they say. What’s the reason
they can’t do without slaves as well as in England? No slaves here—
no whips—no stocks—no punishment, except for wicked people. They
hire servants in England; and if they don’t like them, they send them
away: they can’t lick them. Let them work ever so hard in England,
they are far better off than slaves. If they get a bad master, they give
warning and go hire to another. They have their liberty. That’s just
what we want. We don’t mind hard work, if we had proper treatment,
and proper wages like English servants, and proper time given in the
week to keep us from breaking the Sabbath. But they won’t give it:
they will have work—work—work, night and day, sick or well, till we
are quite done up; and we must not speak up nor look amiss, however
much we be abused. And then when we are quite done up, who
cares for us, more than for a lame horse? This is slavery. I tell it,
to let English people know the truth; and I hope they will never leave
off to pray God, and call loud to the great King of England, till all the
poor blacks be given free, and slavery done up for evermore.

Supplement
to the
History of Mary Prince.
By the Editor.

F4v 40

Narrative of Louis Asa-Asa,
A Captured African.

[Gap in transcription—library stampomitted]

London:—S. Bagster, Jun., Printer, Bartholomew Close.