(based on the chapter 8 account by Douglass in Narrative of the life of Frederick Douglass)
The eastern horizon grew light blue with the coming of the morning sun. A few lone stars dotted the sky, stubbornly resisting the growing sunlight. A hazy fog floated above the cotton fields and the bugs began to buzz in thickening clouds. The birds were beginning to come out as well, but they only flew here and there, not making much conversation. The fog carried with it sick uneasiness and doubt about what the day held. It was the valuation day.
The plantation these past four days had run at a much different speed. Old Captain Lloyd had died suddenly and unexpectedly while away on a trip. The plantation family said it was because God had called him home. Most of the slaves said it was because no man could live with a heart of stone.
Because of the sudden death, no will had been prepared as to how the farm was to be divided up among the family. An evaluation of the property was to be taken, with each item on the plantation being priced from the smallest hammer to the largest of the grain silos. The slaves and livestock would be valued by a special livestock appraiser.
The appraiser rode up the road to the plantation house, swiping at the mosquitoes, spitting, and swearing simultaneously. The two mules that pulled his cart looked haggard and tired out, like they had been pulling that same wagon for that same man for a great many years. He was a rough piece of a man. He stood not much more than five feet tall, but his fierce eyes made him look twice as big. In one pocket he carried a box of snuff, and in the other he carried a bottle of rum. Slowing the wagon to a stop, he jumped off and walked up the steps to the open door of the plantation house.
He took off his hat as he said, "Good morning ma'am. Give my condolences to your family. Old Captain was a fine Christian man. Don't think I ever met one better."
The lady of the household, Mrs. Lloyd replied solemnly, "Thank you Mr. Brye. He is missed."
Mr. Brye said, "I have no doubt about that. I shall be about the business of the valuation and then I will leave you to yours."
Mrs. Lloyd nodded thankfully and said, "Yes, we do not want to keep you any longer than need be. The livestock are lined up on the other side of the silo. My nephew will be out there to record the prices that you set for each of them. Wait a moment." Mrs. Lloyd went into the drawing room for a moment, and then returned to the porch, carrying a whip daintily with a slight look of disgust on her face. "You may scourge the slaves if they are out of line." She handed the whip to Mr. Brye and he took it heartily, shoving it into his belt.
"Thank you Mrs. Lloyd. This will not take long," said Mr. Brye. Mrs. Lloyd nodded her head and went back inside the house.
The sun now was rising above the horizon and the heat was already beginning to make everyone sweat, including the slaves. The cattle, horses, mules, sheep, and slaves stood in a long stinking, sweating line behind the silos. The slaves spoke softly to one another, some looking down the line to see all of their fellow slaves standing in a row. The younger slave children laughed at each other and played around while the adults spoke to each other in hushed tones. The few older slaves with graying hair and thickly creased skin rocked back and forth, staring straight ahead, silently waiting for what they knew was coming.
Mr. Brye came around the corner of the house and strode towards the long line of slaves and animals, spitting into the grass as he went. He grabbed the bottle out of his pocket and took a good long draught before stuffing it back into his pocket again. A yellowed grin slowly grew across his face has he slowly scanned the motley collection of man and beast assorted before him.
"Mr. Lloyd!" yelled Brye. A wiry young man with short hair came running across the lawn towards him carrying a pad of paper and an ink pen.
"My name is John Rider. I'm Mrs. Lloyd's nephew," said the young man.
"My apologies to you Mr. Rider. Shall we begin with the value setting?" asked Mr. Brye.
"Yes sir. I'd like to get this done before noon if possible. The sun is only going to get higher and hotter till then," said Mr. Rider as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"Likewise," said Mr. Brye as he removed his hat and smack a mosquito that had allayed on his arm. With that he strode over to the cattle first and began inspecting each of them, slowly walking around each one and looking at their hide, their utters, their eyes, their nose, and their teeth, humming to himself as he went. He then asked Mr. Rider how old each one was, gave a suggested value, and then moved on to the next animal. He did this for the cattle, horses, mules, and sheep before finally coming to the youngest of the slaves.
The slave children had quieted down by now and were sitting in the grass, picking at the weeds and staring at Mr. Brye as he made his way down the line. The older children made the younger ones stand up abruptly as Brye walked their way. He pulled the whip out for his belt and slapped it into his hand slowly as he walked towards the children, looking them in the eye.
He roughly grabbed the hands of the first boy and turned them over, looking at his palms. The boy stared up at him, not saying a word, but his eyes were big as he stared at the whip. He then turned the boy around and looked him over, squeezing his arms and his legs, feeling the muscles for strength.
"This one's pretty small," said Mr. Brye. "How old is he?"
"Oh, little Benny?" asked John as he stared up from the papers that he carried.
"I didn't ask his name. How old is he?" asked Brye again, slightly agitated.
"He's 6 years old," said John as he flipped through the papers.
"Well, he's pretty tiny for a 6 year old, I'm going to say . . . 45 dollars," said Mr. Brye as he strode up the line to the next child. Mr. Brye continued to roughly handle the children, spinning them around, looking at their muscles, and making comments about how sickly they appeared or how straight their teeth were.
Next came the adults. Brye walked up to one of the younger women and looked her over, feeling her arm and leg muscles for strength, and looking in her mouth to see her teeth. The woman just stared back at him, her eyes blaring defiance at his inspection. Mr. Brye looked at her eyes and spat on the ground near her feet. Without looking away he asked, "Mr. Rider, how many children has this one had?"
Mr. Rider shuffled through his papers, looking them up and down quickly before answering, "She's had two children; little Benny there and-"
"That's quite enough, Mr. Rider. Don't give me what I don't ask for. Frankly I do not care if its name is Big John or cow manure. It don't change the price one way or another," replied Mr. Brye sharply. "This one hear is strong. She's got a good strong body, and she'll make a good breeder. She'll bring $250.00 dollars." Mr. Rider quickly scribbled it onto his papers and followed Mr. Brye down the line.
He again followed the same style of inspection. He looked at their eyes, their teeth, and their muscles making comments about how much they stunk and swearing at the mosquitoes that would not leave him alone. The slaves in turn remained silent, looking at the little mean man that pushed and prodded at them.
At one point Mr. Brye walked up to one of the larger men in line. He was tall, nearly a whole foot taller than the short appraiser. He looked down at him darkly and stood silent as the inspection began. This time though, Mr. Brye walked behind the large slave and lifted up his shirt, revealing a back scarred by dozens of whippings. "Oh you're a fighter are ya?" asked Mr. Brye sarcastically. "You have trouble with this one?"
Mr. Rider kept his distance from the large slave. "Yes sir. He's been known to try and run off several times. We always catch him though."
"I see that," mumbled Brye as he slowly walked around the big man. Without warning, Brye grabbed the whip and quickly ripped it across the back of the big man, making him wince in pain. The man stared back at him with the look of a predator, but he did nothing. "You don't like that do you?" asked Brye as he held the whip in his hand. "You'll learn to obey your master." Some of the children down the line began to whimper and cry. "This one is worth $200.00 Mr. Rider. But if you send him to a slave breaker, his price will go up by at least a hundred." Rider quickly wrote down what Brye said.
Brye finally reached the end of the line where the elderly slaves stood shakily under the hot sun and the dead humid air. There was an older woman and two older men, each with thick leathery skin and graying hair. They said nothing as Mr. Brye looked at their calloused hands quickly and shoved them around, nearly knocking them over in his inspection. "These old ones are worth about $75 each" said Mr. Brye as he turned around to walk into the shade of a nearby tree.
"But Mr. Brye, Bill there is a cooper. We taught him a long time ago to make barrels", said Mr. Rider. "Surely he's worth more than that."
Mr. Brye sat down underneath a maple tree and took out his rum. As he unscrewed the top he said, "Fine then, $100. Those old ones aren't going to be around for much longer anyway. They'll just eat up all of your corn meal and not give you a lick of work in return." Mr. Brye stood back up again and took a long drink. "If there ain't any more animals to be looked at, I best be off."
"That is all Mr. Brye, thank you for coming," said Mr. Rider as he assorted the papers neatly. "Before you go, you must have something to eat and drink. This sun is deathly."
"I'm much obliged for your offer, but I must go," said Mr. Brye.
"Thank you and good day sir," said Mr. Rider. Mr. Brye walked off towards his wagon and hopped on, smacking another mosquito as he yelled "Yah!" loudly at the mules. They brayed as they quickly began walking back down the rutted road.
The next day the winds blew and storm clouds began to roll in. They were white and grey titans in the sky, stretching upward into the blue, pushing closer to the plantation. The air tasted of rain and dust and wind.
The plantation itself was busier now than it had been in years. Six carriages and wagons were parked in front of the large white house. They belonged to the living relatives of old Mr. Lloyd. They were there to collect their inheritance. The farm was to be split 6 ways evenly according to the pricing of the several appraisers that had visited the farm in the past couple days.
A large meal had been set out on the table in the grand dining room, with all the silver and china set out. Smells from the kitchen had been floating around the plantation fields all day, making many of the slaves stop working for a few short moments and dream of a real dinner from the fragrances that hung on the wind.
The meal was eaten quickly however, as most of the family was eager to see what they were entitled to. The table was quickly cleared of dishes, napkins, and food and papers began to take their places. The family members looked over the papers slowly; some read out loud to themselves what it was they were going to receive.
Mrs. Lloyd stood up and said, "I hope each of you is satisfied with your share of the inheritance. I believe that he would have wanted it to be like this." She sat down again and drew out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes a bit as the sadness from her loss again fell upon her.
One of Mr. Lloyd's brothers spoke from across the table, "I am sure that we are all most satisfied with what we have received. The fact that we are together as a family is of the most importance to me, and I think that's what he would have cared about in the end." The rest of the table nodded in silent agreement, most looking at the mistress of the house with pity and sadness.
Several minutes later, the slaves were lined up again as they had been before. Mr. Rider walked out with the papers in hand, flipping through them and struggling against the winds that kept blowing them out of his control. The family members followed him out of the house, holding their hats down against the wind.
"Let's hurry up and get them divided before it begins to rain," said Master Andrew impatiently. All of them looked at the quickly darkening clouds and nodded in agreement.
"Yes, right," said Rider as he thumbed through the documents, a bit confused because of the disorganization that the blowing winds had caused. "Right, here we go." And thus began the division. "Benny, Maggy, Daniel, Thomas, and John are to go to Mr. Andrew," read Mr. Rider from one of his papers. He walked up to the line of slaves and pulled the named ones from the line and brought them over to Mr. Andrew.
"This man before you is your new master. You're going to go with him down to Virginia," said Rider. He didn't really look at them as he spoke, but stared at his papers.
Benny turned around and ran back to his mother who was still standing in the line, tears streaming down her face. He cried, "Momma!" and wrapped his arms around her. Rider chased after him and dragged him back to the rest of the group. His mother began to wail loudly, "Master, don't take my baby! Take us both or leave us both, but you can't break up family!" Master Andrew ignored her as he reached down and grabbed Benny and carried him off to his wagon with the rest of his new slaves following him.
His mother began to run after him but Rider clumsily brought out his whip and she slowed to a stop. "Return to the line now!" said Mr. Rider as he slapped the whip into his hand with a loud noise. She fell to the ground, wilted and defeated, crying over and over, "He can't take my baby, he can't take my baby!"
The rains began to pour and a lightning bolt's sharp edges ripped across the sky in blue and white strands. The division of families and hearts continued on through the storm, and in a matter of minutes, no slaves except for the few that were left to Mrs. Lloyd remained standing. Their clothes were wet from the rain and their eyes were soaked from the tears.
So concluded the delegation of the inherited possessions from an old plantation owner.