Once the boys paused before a wrought iron gate. At the end of a long
passageway they could see a courtyard where flowers bloomed and a
fountain splashed in the sunshine. Abe turned to watch a handsome
carriage roll by over the cobblestones. He looked down the street toward
the river, which sheltered ships from all over the world.
"All this makes me feel a little like Sinbad," he said, "but I reckon
even Sinbad never visited New Orleans. I sure do like it here."
But soon Abe began to see other sights that made him sick at heart. He
and Allen passed a warehouse where slaves were being sold at auction. A
crowd had gathered inside. Several Negroes were standing on a platform
called an auction block. One by one they stepped forward. A man called
an auctioneer asked in a loud voice, "What am I offered? Who will make
the first bid?"
"Five hundred," called one man.
"Six hundred," called another.
The bids mounted higher. Each slave was sold to the man who bid, or
offered to pay, the most money. One field hand and his wife were sold to
different bidders. There were tears in the woman's dark eyes as he was
led away.
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