During the confusion I crawled away on my hands and knees, and laid myself down under the steps of the piazza, in front of the house.  I was in a dreadful state—­my body all blood and bruises, and I could not help moaning piteously.  The other slaves, when they saw me, shook their heads and said, “Poor child! poor child!”—­I lay there till the morning, careless of what might happen, for life was very weak in me, and I wished more than ever to die.  But when we are very young, death always seems a great way off, and it would not come that night to me.  The next morning I was forced by my master to rise and go about my usual work, though my body and limbs were so stiff and sore, that I could not move without the greatest pain.—­Nevertheless, even after all this severe punishment, I never heard the last of that jar; my mistress was always throwing it in my face.

Some little time after this, one of the cows got loose from the stake, and eat one of the sweet-potatoe slips.  I was milking when my master found it out.  He came to me, and without any more ado, stooped down, and taking off his heavy boot, he struck me such a severe blow in the small of my back, that I shrieked with agony, and thought I was killed; and I feel a weakness in that part to this day.  The cow was frightened at his violence, and kicked down the pail and spilt the milk all about.  My master knew that this accident was his own fault, but he was so enraged that he seemed glad of an excuse to go on with his ill usage.  I cannot remember how many licks he gave me then, but he beat me till I was unable to stand, and till he himself was weary.

After this I ran away and went to my mother, who was living with Mr. Richard Darrel.  My poor mother was both grieved and glad to see me; grieved because I had been so ill used, and glad because she had not seen me for a long, long while.  She dared not receive me into the house, but she hid me up in a hole in the rocks near, and brought me food at night, after every body was asleep.  My father, who lived at Crow-Lane, over the salt-water channel, at last heard of my being hid up in the cavern, and he came and took me back to my master.  Oh I was loth, loth to go back; but as there was no remedy, I was obliged to submit.

When we got home, my poor father said to Capt.  I——­, “Sir, I am sorry that my child should be forced to run away from her owner; but the treatment she has received is enough to break her heart.  The sight of her wounds has nearly broke mine.—­I entreat you, for the love of God, to forgive her for running away, and that you will be a kind master to her in future.”  Capt.  I——­ said I was used as well as I deserved, and that I ought to be punished for running away.  I then took courage and said that I could stand the floggings no longer; that I was weary of my life, and therefore I had run away to my mother; but mothers could only weep and mourn over their children, they could not save them from cruel masters—­from the whip, the rope, and the cow-skin.  He told me to hold my tongue and go about my work, or he would find a way to settle me.  He did not, however, flog me that day.