The Englishwoman In America By Isabella Lucy Bird
























































































































 -  These blacks were really lady-like and intelligent, and so
agreeable and naïve that, although they chattered to me - Page 48
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These Blacks Were Really Lady-Like And Intelligent, And So Agreeable And NaïVe That, Although They Chattered To Me Till Two In The Morning, I Was Not The Least Tired Of Them.

They wanted me to bring them all home to England, to which they have been taught to look as to a land of liberty and happiness; and it was with much difficulty that I made them understand that I should not be able to find employment for them.

I asked one of them, a very fine-looking mulatto, how long she had been married, and her age. She replied that she was thirty- four, and had been married twenty-one years! Their black faces and woolly hair contrasted most ludicrously with the white pillow-case. After sleeping for a time, I was awoke by a dissonance of sounds - groaning, straining, creaking, and the crash of waves and roar of winds. I dressed with difficulty, and, crawling to the window, beheld a cloudless sky, a thin, blue, stormy-looking mist, and waves higher than I had ever seen those on the ocean; indeed, Lake Erie was one sheet of raging, furious billows, which dashed about our leviathan but top-heavy steamer as if she had been a plaything.

I saw two schooners scudding with only their foresails set, and shortly after a vessel making signals of distress, having lost her masts, bulwarks, and boats in the gale. We were enabled to render her very seasonable assistance. I was not now surprised at the caution given by the stewardess the previous night, namely, that the less I undressed the better, in case of an accident.

While the gale lasted, being too much inured to rough weather to feel alarmed, I amused myself with watching the different effects produced by it on the feelings of different persons. The Southern lady was frantic with terror. First she requested me, in no very gentle tones, to call the stewardess. I went to the abode of that functionary, and found her lying on the floor sea-sick; her beautiful auburn hair tangled and dishevelled. "Oh! madam, how could you sleep?" she said; "we've had such an awful night! I've never been so ill before."

I returned from my useless errand, and the lady then commanded me to go instantly to the captain and ask him to come. "He's attending to the ship," I urged. "Go then, if you've any pity, and ask him if we shall be lost." "There's no danger, as far as I can judge; the engines work regularly, and the ship obeys her helm." The Mayflower gave a heavier roll than usual. "Oh my God! Oh Heaven!" shrieked the unhappy lady; "forgive me! Mercy! mercy!" A lull followed, in which she called to one of her slaves for a glass of water; but the poor creature was too ill to move, and, seeing that her mistress was about to grow angry, I went up to the saloon for it. On my way to the table I nearly tumbled over a prostrate man, whom I had noticed the night before as conspicuous for his audacious and hardy bearing. "I guess we're going to Davy Jones," he said; "I've been saying my prayers all night - little good, I guess. I've been a sinner too long. I've seen many a" - a groan followed. I looked at the reckless speaker. He was lying on the floor, with his hat and shoes off, and his rifle beside him. His face was ghastly, but, I verily believe, more from the effects of sea-sickness than fear. He begged me, in feeble tones, to get him some brandy; but I could not find anybody to give it to him, and went down with the water.

The two slaves were as frightened as people almost stupified by sickness could be; but when I asked one of the freed negresses if she were alarmed, she said, "Me no fear; if me die, me go to Jesus Christ; if me live, me serve him here - better to die!"

It has been said that "poverty, sickness, all the ills of life, are Paradise to what we fear of death" - that "it is not that life is sweet, but that death is bitter." Here the poet and the philosopher might have learned a lesson. This poor, untutored negress probably knew nothing more "than her Bible true;" but she had that knowledge of a future state which reason, unassisted by the light of revelation, could never have learned; she knew yet more - she knew God as revealed in Christ, and in that knowledge, under its highest and truest name of Faith, she feared not the summons which would call her into the presence of the Judge of all. The infidel may hug his heartless creed, which, by ignoring alike futurity and the Divine government, makes an aimless chaos of the past, and a gloomy obscurity of the future; but, in the "hour of death and in the day of judgment," the boldest atheist in existence would thankfully exchange his failing theories for the poor African's simple creed.

Providence, which has not endowed the negro with intellectual powers of the highest order, has given him an amount of heart and enthusiasm to which we are strangers. He is warm and ardent in his attachments, fierce in his resentfulness, terrible in his revenge. The black troops of our West Indian colonies, when let loose, fight with more fury and bloodthirstiness than those of any white race. This temperament is carried into religion, and nowhere on earth does our Lord find a more loving and zealous disciple than in the converted and Christianized negro. It is indeed true that, in America only, more than three million free-born Africans wear the chains of servitude; but it is no less true that in many instances the Gospel has penetrated the shades of their Egyptian darkness, giving them

"A clear escape from tyrannizing lust, A full immunity from penal woe,"

Many persons who have crossed the Atlantic without annoyance are discomposed by the short chopping surges of these inland seas, and the poor negresses suffered dreadfully from sea-sickness.

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