"
Oh! how then were my high hopes fallen, and how much more hateful appeared
that slavery which had blighted all my military prospects? Nor was Capt.
Helm's heartless and mercenary reply to my humble pleading any antidote to
my disappointed feelings and desire for freedom. He said, "you shall not
go; I will permit nothing of the kind, so let there be an end to it. The
_pay_ is all well enough, I know, but if you get killed your wages will
stop; and then who, do you suppose, will indemnify me for the loss? Go
about your business, and let me hear no more of such nonsense!"
There was an emergency I had not provided for; and, as I then believed,
the master could make no demand on or for the slaves beyond the grave, I
was silent; but both master and myself were mistaken on that point; for I
have since learned numerous instances where slaves have fought and died
in the service of their master's country, and the slave-owner received
his wages up to the hour of his death, and then recovered of the United
States the full value of his person as property!
Gen. McClure left soon after for the frontier; my saddened heart followed
him, and that was all; my body was in slavery still, and painful though
it was, I must quietly submit.
The General, however, reaped but few if any laurels in that campaign; he
burned the small village of Newark, in Canada, for which he got very
little credit on either side of the lake; so I comforted myself as well as
I could with the reflection, that all who "went to the wars" did not
return covered with glory and laurels of victory.
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