In short, he
was hazing me unmercifully--as every one on the boat knew, though some
of the things he did to me I do not think the captain would have
permitted if he had known about them.
I was more miserable with the cruelty and tyranny of Ace than I had been
at home; for this was a constant misery, night and day, and got worse
every minute. He ruled even what I ate and drank. When I took anything
at meal-times, I would first glance at him, and if he looked forbidding
or shook his head, I did not eat the forbidden thing. I knew on that
voyage from Syracuse to Buffalo exactly what servitude means. No slave
was ever more systematically cruelized[1], no convict ever more
brutishly abused--unless his oppressor may have been more ingenious than
Ace. He took my coverlets at night. He starved me by making me afraid to
eat. He worked, me as hard as the amount of labor permitted. He
committed abominable crimes against my privacy and the delicacy of my
feelings--and all the time I could not rebel. I could only think of
running away from the boat, and was nearly at the point of doing so,
when he crowded me too far one day, and pushed me to the point of one of
those frenzied revolts for which the Dutch are famous.
[1] The author insists that "cruelized" is the exact word to express his
meaning, and will consent to no change.--G.v.d.M.
A little girl peeking at me from an orchard beside the tow-path tossed
me an apple--a nice, red juicy apple.
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