CHAPTER VIII

THE TARKARS AT DABNEY’S PLANTATION

Dabney’s plantation lay in the cane brake country--a part of the river region, so-called from the miles of towering cane. It was a wilderness, every part strangely alike, in which even those most familiar with it could be easily lost. Here, according to the narrative of James Dennison, the slave who was left in charge and who afterwards married Kanko--one of their number--and of the surviving Tarkars, they were kept for eleven days, but in a state of constant change, being transferred each day from one part of the swamp to another. They were allowed to speak only in whispers, for there was a chance that some one passing on the river might hear strange voices. At the end of the eleventh day clothes were brought to them and they were put aboard the steamer _Commodore_ and carried to The Bend in Clark County, where the Alabama and Tombigbee rivers meet and where Burns Meaher had a plantation.

There they were lodged each night under a wagon shed, and driven each morning before daybreak back into the swamp, where they remained until dark. Understanding no word and knowing not what was expected of them, they were made to know the driver’s wishes by a shooing sound--such as would drive chickens or geese. In this strange land, among strange faces and an unknown tongue, the Tarkars say that at first they almost grieved themselves to death.

Meaher sent word secretly to those disposed to buy. They were piloted to the place of concealment by Jim Dennison. The Africans were placed in two long rows, the women on one side and the men on the other--the buyers standing between, and carefully examining them--even looking at their teeth. Those selected would be put to one side, and when the purchaser was ready to depart, he would make his ownership known to them by waving his hand around the group selected, then bringing it to his breast. The Tarkars could not understand these transactions--they only knew their numbers were gradually growing less. Day after day they saw some of their kinsmen or comrades led away--to what fate they knew not. Some were sold and taken to Selma. Of their march through the woods one pathetic and picturesque incident has come to me. As they marched through the strange land--tired, dejected, friendless--knowing not where they were going or what would be their destiny--a circus, moving from place to place, chanced to pass along the country road. To avoid danger or suspicion, the Africans were concealed behind the bushes with their backs to the passing show. As it passed, one of the elephants trumpeted; joy transformed the Tarkars, spread over their features, and ran through their limbs. To them the sound was as a cry from home, and as with one voice, gesticulating, tears streaming from their eyes, they shouted: “Elé, Elé! Argenacou, Argenacou!” (“Home, Home! Elephant, Elephant!”) Of this small band--two still live--a man and wife--and those of the tribe near Mobile still receive news of them now and then.

As time passed and the Tarkars continued inconsolable, Captain Tim Meaher recommended that they be put to some kind of work. They look back upon this as the first happy episode of their life in the new land. When they were taken into the fields for the first time, their astonishment was very great when they saw civilization’s agricultural methods. “We astonish to see the mule behind the plow to pull” (Kazoola). The contrast in fertility made them feel that the American soil was accursed and their own blessed. There they had but to scratch the top soil and whatever they planted grew; but in America there was nothing but “work, work, work.” The Tarkar would stand for no mistreatment. Once an overseer attempted something which the women considered as such and he was overpowered by them and given a sound thrashing. Naturally of agricultural and industrious habits they soon came to understand Southern crops and were very successful in raising corn, cotton, beans, peas, cane, pumpkins, etc. This experience was of great advantage to them when they were afterwards thrown upon their own resources. Their homes to-day are characterized by excellent gardens and many varieties of fruit trees.

After war was declared there was little danger of exposure, and the Africans belonging to Foster, to Jim and Tim Meaher were taken to the Meaher settlement, at what is known to-day as Magazine Point, where they were kindly treated by their respective owners. Those left at Burns Meaher’s plantation tell of great hardship. When they first arrived they were given one pair of shoes and never any more. Before daybreak they were sent to the fields to work and kept hard at it until night, when they returned home by torchlight. After the surrender, these joined the others of their tribe at Magazine Point.

[Illustration: Wreck of the “Clotilde.”]