To me, that beautiful Sabbath morning was
clouded in midnight darkness, and I retired to ponder on what could be
done.
For some reason or other, Capt. Helm had supplied every lawyer in that
section of country with slaves, either by purchase or hire; so when I
thought of seeking legal redress for my poor, mangled sister, I saw at
once it would be all in vain. The laws were in favor of the slave owner,
and besides, every legal gentleman in the village had one or more of the
Captain's slaves, who were treated with more or less rigor; and of course
they would do nothing toward censuring one of their own number, so nothing
could be done to give the slave even the few privileges which the laws of
the State allowed them.
The Captain sold my aunt Betsy Bristol to a distinguished lawyer in the
village, retaining her husband, Aaron Bristol, in his own employ; and two
of her children he sold to another legal gentleman named Cruger. One day
Captain Helm came out where the slaves were at work, and finding Aaron was
not there, he fell into a great rage and swore terribly. He finally
started off to a beach tree, from which he cut a stout limb, and trimmed
it so as to leave a knot on the but end of the stick, or bludgeon rather,
which was about two and a half feet in length. With this formidable
weapon he started for Aaron's lonely cabin.
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