“It seems there has been a letter written for you bysomebody. Now， who is it？” he demanded， authoritatively.
I made no reply.
“I say， who wrote that letter？” he demanded again.
“Perhaps I wrote it myself”， I said.
“You haven’t been to Marksville post-office and backbefore light， I know.”
He insisted upon my informing him， and I insisted Iwould not. He made many vehement threats against theman， whoever he might be， and intimated the bloody andsavage vengeance he would wreak upon him， when hefound him out. his whole manner and language exhibiteda feeling of anger towards the unknown person who hadwritten for me， and of fretfulness at the idea of losing somuch property. Addressing Mr. Northup he swore if hehad only had an hour’s notice of his coming， he wouldhave saved him the trouble of taking me back to New-York； that he would have run me into the swamp， or someother place out of the way， where all the sheriffs on earthcouldn’t have found me.
I walked out into the yard， and was entering thekitchen door， when something struck me in the back.
Aunt Phebe， emerging from the back door of thegreat house with a pan of potatoes， had thrown one ofthem with unnecessary violence， thereby giving me tounderstand that she wished to speak to me a momentconfidentially. Running up to me， she whispered in myear with great earnestness，
“Lor a’ mity， Platt！ what d’ye think？ Dem two men comeafter ye. Heard ’em tell masse you free— got wife and treechildren back thar whar you come from. Goin’ wid ’em？
Fool if ye don’t—wish I could go，” and Aunt Phebe ran onin this manner at a rapid rate.
Presently Mistress Epps made her appearance in thekitchen. She said many things to me， and wondered whyI had not told her who I was. She expressed her regret，complimenting me by saying she had rather lose anyother servant on the plantation. Had Patsey that daystood in my place， the measure of my mistress’ joy wouldhave overflowed. Now there was no one left who couldmend a chair or a piece of furniture—no one who was ofany use about the house—no one who could play for heron the violin —and Mistress Epps was actually affected totears.
Epps had called to Bob to bring up his saddle horse. Theother slaves， also， overcoming their fear of the penalty， hadleft their work and come to the yard. They were standingbehind the cabins， out of sight of Epps. They beckoned me tocome to them， and with all the eagerness of curiosity， excitedto the highest pitch， conversed with and questioned me. IfI could repeat the exact words they uttered， with the sameemphasis—if I could paint their several attitudes， and theexpression of their countenances—it would be indeed aninteresting picture. In their estimation， I had suddenlyarisen to an immeasurable height—had become a being ofimmense importance.
The legal papers having been served， and arrangementsmade with Epps to meet them the next day at Marksville，Northup and the sheriff entered the carriage to return tothe latter place. As I was about mounting to the driver’sseat， the sheriff said I ought to bid Mr. and Mrs. Eppsgood bye. I ran back to the piazza where they werestanding， and taking off my hat， said，
“Good-bye， missis.”
“Good-bye， Platt，” said Mrs. Epps， kindly.
“Good-bye， master.”
“Ah！ you d--d nigger，” muttered Epps， in a surly， malicioustone of voice， “you needn’t feel so cussed tickled—you ain’tgone yet—I’ll see about this business at Marksville tomorrow.”
I was only a “nigger” and knew my place， but felt asstrongly as if I had been a white man， that it would havebeen an inward comfort， had I dared to have given him aparting kick. On my way back toward the carriage， Patseyran from behind a cabin and threw her arms about myneck.
“Oh！ Platt，” she cried， tears streaming down her face，“you’re goin’ to be free—you’re goin’ way off yonder wherewe’ll neber see ye any more. You’ve saved me a good manywhipping， Platt； I’m glad you’re goin’ to be free—but oh！
de Lord， de Lord！ what’ll become of me？”
I disengaged myself from her， and entered thecarriage. The driver cracked his whip and away we rolled.
I looked back and saw Patsey， with drooping head， half reclining on the ground； Mrs. Epps was on the piazza；Uncle Abram， and Bob， and Wiley， and Aunt Phebe stoodby the gate， gazing after me. I waved my hand， but thecarriage turned a bend of the bayou， hiding them frommy eyes forever.
We stopped a moment at Carey’s sugar house， where agreat number of slaves were at work， such an establishmentbeing a curiosity to a Northern man. Epps dashed by uson horseback at full speed—on the way， as we learnednext day， to the “Pine Woods，” to see William Ford， whohad brought me into the country.
Tuesday， the fourth of January， Epps and his counsel，the Hon. H. Taylor， Northup， Waddill， the Judge andsheriff of Avoyelles， and myself， met in a room in thevillage of Marksville. Mr. Northup stated the facts inregard to me， and presented his commission， and theaffidavits accompanying it. The sheriff described thescene in the cotton field. I was also interrogated at greatlength. Finally， Mr. Taylor assured his client that he wassatisfied， and that litigation would not only be expensive，but utterly useless. In accordance with his advice， a paperwas drawn up and signed by the proper parties， whereinEpps acknowledged he was satisfied of my right tofreedom， and formally surrendered me to the authoritiesof New-York. It was also stipulated that it be entered ofrecord in the recorder’s office of Avoyelles.aa See Appendix C.
Mr. Northup and myself immediately hastened to thelanding， and taking passage on the first steamer thatarrived， were soon floating down Red River， up which，with such desponding thoughts， I had been borne twelveyears before.
