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Updated: June 23, 2025
"This ought to do a bit more than the cotton-field fiddle," he said dryly. He snapped the strings, looking at it with the love of the natural connoisseur. "Finish your drink and your cigarette. I can wait," he added graciously. "If you like the cigarettes, you must take some away with you. You don't drink much, that's clear, therefore you must smoke.
The appearance of a well-cultivated cotton-field, if it has escaped the ravages of insects and the destruction of the elements, is of singular beauty. Although it may be a mile in extent, still it is as carefully wrought as is the mold of the limited garden of the coldest climate.
The whip dropped, and that master could not strike another blow. In a subdued tone he said: "Go down in the cotton-field." Do you think Jack went away cursing his master, saying, "O Lord, punish him for all his cruelty to me"? No, no! His prayer was, "Lord, forgive him, for Jesus Christ's sake."
About three o'clock, a messenger came down to the cotton-field, crying: "Mas'r dyin'! Mas'r's dyin'! Come quick, Jack. Mas'r's dyin'!" In his private room, Jack found his master on the floor in agony, crying: "O Jack, I'm sinking down to hell! Pray for me! Pray for me!" "I'se been prayin' for you all de time, mas'r. You mus' pray for yourse'f." "I don't know how to pray, Jack.
A bowshot from the wood, the head of the column was met by a second courier, a boy from the Alabama River, riding like Jehu, pale with excitement. "When you get to the top of the hill you'll see! They're thicker than bees from a sweet gum they're thicker than bolls in a cotton-field! They've got three thousand Regulars, and fifteen thousand of the other kind, and they're cutting Evans to pieces!"
Finally they came up to their brigade, which had turned off the road and gone into line-of-battle in an old cotton-field, where the mud was deeper, if possible, than in the road. "Where's the 200th Ind.?" called out Si. "Here, Si," Shorty's voice answered. "Where's the fires, Shorty," asked Si, with sinking heart. "Ain't allowed none," answered his partner gloomily.
"Don't give me none yer jaw. Reckon I knows 'nuff ter make 'lowances fer col' an' shawt days an' scatterin' bolls an' sich like." The next day, Alston, humiliated by his failure and by the brutal reprimand he had received, went to the cotton-field before any of the other hands indeed, before it was fairly light. There he worked if ever a man did work.
You will see one of these human-flesh-jobbers, armed with pistol, whip, and bowie-knife, driving a company of a hundred men, women, and children, from the Potomac to the slave market at New Orleans. These wretched people are to be sold singly, or in lots, to suit purchasers. They are food for the cotton-field and the deadly sugar-mill.
"Ah," said I, glad to set myself right by a piece of frankness that under the circumstances could hardly work to my disadvantage; "then it is your land on which I have been trespassing." "How so?" he asked, with a smile; and I explained that I had been across his cotton-field a little while before.
In a cotton-field back of that house was our signal-station, on the roof of an old gin-house. The signal-officer reported that by studying the enemy's signals he had learned the key, and that he could read their signals.
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