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___________________________________________________________ This story is copywrited by Sailorboy and cannot be copied by anyone except for one's personal use. This work is pure fictionand any character used in this story bears the names of any person, living or dead, is purely concidental. ___________________________________________________________
DADDY'S LITTLE BOY PART II CHAPTER SIX *********************************************************** Chapter 6 was suggested by CvanD in an e-mail to me on the Board. I wrote it and then he revised some things, which I believe improved it, and I appreciate his suggestions in this section. I hope you enjoy it! Sailorboy *********************************************************** After my dear female friend took my story to the north, I decided to continue writing an account of my enslavement in Mississippi as a method of coping with my captivity and loneliness. As the chief soloist in the choir - their only castrato - I performed at every Mass as well as on special occasions and became well-known to members of the congregation. A family with three children seem to have developed a friendly interest in me. One of the children, Alice, was a fourteen year old girl, the same age as me, with light blue eyes and blonde hair. Without doubt she was one of the most beautiful girls I’d ever seen. She was well into puberty with the beginnings of a wonderful figure. With permission of Bishop Marelli, I was even invited to lunch after Mass by this family. The girl's full name was Alice Sanders and her father was a local merchant in Natchez. Alice had confided to her parents that I was “cute” This might have rung some alarm bells with her parents who knew what a frisky little filly their daughter was becoming – not to put too fine a point on it, a bit of a hot-pants. However, the Bishop knew that my castration had been thorough, and assured Alice’s parents that however great the temptations she put in my way, I was not capable of having sex with her and getting her pregnant. So he had no problem with me visiting the Sanders family. I enjoyed being with Alice's younger brothers too, James, age 12, and Michael, age 10. It was a "replacement" family for me since I was a long distance from my own family in Kentucky. After the weather became better, Alice, James, Michael, and I would go walking along the Mississippi River. From our conversations, I don't think they knew that I was a slave. I told them I was an orphan who had been placed in the care of the Bishop. I did tell them some things about my life in Kentucky, but told them that my parents were dead. I hope God will forgive me for lying!
In early summer of 1858, the four of us decided to go to an oxbow lake of the Mississippi for a swim in order to cool off. I wore a pair of old trousers to swim in while the other three swam in the nude. They teased me, but just guessed that I was modest about my body being exposed. To some extent this was true. I didn’t want anyone to see my gelded genitals, with my empty ball-sac and limp little penis. Even ten-year-old Michael was better equipped, with a jaunty cock, half-hard more often than not, and a well-filled scrotum. After the festivities of the Fourth of July were over, Alice suggested we should go swimming at the lake without her brothers. I knew that she liked me as much as I liked her. We reached a quiet spot on the bank of the lake. “Let’s sit here for a bit” said Alice. We made ourselves comfortable, and she suddenly kissed me on the mouth and began unbuttoning my shirt. Soon, she had my shirt off and began rubbing my chest and belly, pinching my nipples every once and awhile. It felt good! Nothing Father Greenfield had done in bed with me felt this good because this girl was treating me like a man. With Father Greenfield I’d been a mere bum-boy, a substitute girl, for his perverted sexual lusts. “Now I’ve felt yours” whispered Alice. “I guess you’d like to feel mine”. She began to unbutton her blouse, and showed me two perfect breasts. “You can kiss them if you like”. I licked and sucked on the beautiful nipples of this wonderful girl. They quickly became hard, standing up like small mountains from the attention they were getting. Alice now did the most exciting thing of all. She opened her legs, and through a froth of lace-trimmed underwear I could see the swelling curve of her sex, hidden only by the crotch of her knickers. And Alice knew I could see it. She was inviting me to fondle her adorable soft thighs, perhaps to pull her knickers to one side……………My heart began pounding wildly. The cruellest result of castrating a pre-teen boy is that his sexual curiosity and desires remain after the operation. He longs to “do it” with a girl, but now lacks the ability. I had never been able, even when intact, to get a full erection, not even when Father Greenfield was “fiddling” with me, to get me in the mood for having sex with him. He had never been able to get me more than half-hard, and now I had lost even that modest ability together with my balls. Alice had stuck one of her hands down my trousers towards my private area, expecting to find six inches of hot rampant dick. She found a tiny inert acorn, and beneath it- nothing. A strange expression came over her face She said, "What’s the matter with you? Take off your trousers so I can see you." Reluctantly, I stripped off my remaining clothes and stood naked before this girl. I really liked her, and longed to be intact again, so that I could put my penis up her vagina. Alice gazed at my tiny shrivelled penis, and the scar where my ball sac used to be. Her eyes roamed from my face to my private area and back. Her mouth curled in disgust. "What a pathetic boy you are”she said “with a tiny dick and no balls. My ten year old brother has a bigger one than you. You’re not a boy at all!” Suddenly, realisation came to her. “I know!”she said. “You’re a slave-boy! They take slave boys and geld them. They cut their balls right out, like they do horses, so that they can’t be a nuisance with white girls!” All of these insults hurt me terribly. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I confessed the truth, that I was a free white boy who was captured by slave traders, sold to the Church, and gelded on orders of the Bishop. Alice was unmoved. “Ugh, you’re horrible” she said. “Go away, I never want to see you again, ever” By this time, I felt totally humiliated! Alice stalked off. I put my clothes on and went back to St. Mary's. As the days passed, I saw Alice and her brothers at Mass, but only her brothers came and talked to me afterwards. My trips to their house also came to a halt. I don't know if she said anything about what happened to her parents, to the Bishop, or to her friends. It was almost as if I didn't exist when she saw me. Neither Bishop Marelli, nor her parents ever spoke to me about what happened at the lake, but her parents’ attitude to me seemed to have cooled off. Two things, though, I was certain about. Alice knew I had no balls, that I was not a boy but a eunuch. In the eyes of society as a whole, I was a slave. Either way, I was a non-person!
CHAPTER 7 Sold to Vardaman Plantation After Mass one Sunday, my lady friend (who had taken my earlier account North) talked with me in private and said that my account had been reported in many newspapers in the North. The Bishop Of Louisville, Kentucky, displeased that a white child should be sold into slavery, had written to the Archbishop of New Orleans asking him to investigate the matter, free me, and send me back to Kentucky. This news that I could be returned to my family in Kentucky thrilled me and I was happy and waited impatiently for the Archbishop to visit Bishop Marelli. In late August, 1858, Bishop Marelli sent for me and introduced me to a man named William V. Vardaman. I later found out that this man lived in Natchez, but owned thousands of acres of land in eastern Louisiana across the Mississippi River. Mr. Vardaman had me strip off my shirt and examined me, checking my teeth, hearing, and muscles. He then ordered me to strip naked! I looked at Bishop Marelli and he said to obey him, which I did. Mr. Vardaman carefully examined my muscles on the lower part of my body and grinned at me when he saw where I had been gelded. In a joking way, he said to the Bishop, “Well, I guess this boy won’t be used as breeding stock.” He then said, “I think we can make a deal, provided the price is right.” As Father Greenfield escorted me out of the room, I saw another man enter the Bishop’s office with some papers. Father Greenfield took me back to my room and told me that my sale to Mr. Vardaman was being arranged. I asked, “How can the Bishop sell me?” Father Greenfield reminded me that the Bishop had bought me (for the Church) about two years earlier and had the right to sell me as the Church’s agent. Rather than telling Father Greenfield what I knew about actions being taken to free me, I asked him, “What if someone is trying to free me?” He looked at me and, with tears in his eyes, said that once I was sold, it would be more difficult to locate me. He then told me that he had been reassigned to another parish in southern Mississippi and was due to leave within two weeks. As you can imagine, this news was heart-breaking to me. Father Greenfield said that I should keep it a secret of what he had just told me or he might get in trouble with the Bishop. He believed it was his duty to tell me what was going on! He had barely finished his words when Bishop Marelli and Mr. Vardaman opened the door and came into the cottage where I had been staying since I was bought almost two years before. Father Greenfield said to the Bishop, “Should I leave now, Sir?” Bishop Marelli replied, “No, stay until this matter is settled, Father.” Bishop Marelli then said to me, ”Boy, Mr. Vardaman has purchased you for $800.00 and you will be his slave on his plantation.” I pretended to be shocked as Mr. Vardaman joined the conversation, “You are now my slave...” as he waved some papers in front of me, “...and I will take you to my plantation, ‘Rose Oaks’, for training and then you will be sent to my estate in Louisiana where my Overseer will assign you to your duties there.” Adding, “I’m going to fetch my driver and wagon to pick you up, so get your things together for the trip.” The Bishop instructed Father Greenfield to help me pack my meager things for the trip and I made sure that I had my Journal and additional paper and ink to be able to continue writing, hiding those items as well as I could in the bag containing my belongings. When I reached “Rose Oak’s Plantation, I was assigned to one of the slave cabins for single males. Only one young slave was staying there and he was about my age. From what he told me, I guessed that he had been recently bought by Mr. Vardaman. An older slave accompanied Mr. Vardaman and ordered us out of the cabin for a talk and some training. While the Master watched, the slave told us that we would be taken across the Mississippi River and work on Mr. Vardaman’s vast lands in Louisiana, planting cotton, picking cotton,, raising food crops, and doing other work assigned to us by the Overseer. Mr. Vardaman interrupted the slave and said, “Obey, Obey, Obey and do your best work for me and you will see that I am a good Master. Don’t obey and you will see how I punish rebellious slaves. The Overseer will have direct contact with you, but I spend a great deal of time on my estate in Louisiana to ensure that my investment in slaves and land are being used wisely.” The Master asked, “Are there any questions?” Neither the black boy nor I had any questions. Early the next morning, the black boy and I were driven to the local ferry and taken across the river to the slave cabins in Concordia Parish, Louisiana. Once there, the boy and I were assigned to different cabins, reserved for single male slaves and there was room for at least 4-6 slaves. I was sent to a cabin where there was only one other slave, Rufus, living. He was coal-black, with black eyes, a good physical build, was slightly taller in height that I was, and about a year younger than me. We talked for awhile and I found that he was a nice boy and had a good sense of humor. I liked him immediately! The Overseer came and sent slaves, adult and children, to the fields to pick the cotton fibers bursting snowy white from the plants. We had long sacks to put the cotton in and when that was full, dumped the contents into a waiting wagon and started picking again. The labor was from sun-rise to sun-down, tough, and well-organized. Water was carried to the slaves by a sled of sorts, but it was very warm. Whippings for those who seemed to be too slow occurred fairly often. I tried my best to avoid them After spending almost two weeks picking cotton, I knew that most of the crop had been harvested. After supper that night, Rufus asked me if I would suck his dick. He stripped what little clothes he had on (it was hot and humid) and I took his lengthening black dick in my mouth, teased the mushroom-shaped head with my tongue, began to stick the full length of his dick in my mouth and throat as I slid up and down his black shaft. I loved it and Rufus did too! After several minutes, he groaned and his semen erupted into my throat and he panted and breathed heavily for awhile. Of course, I had no physical reaction sexually to what went on! He then asked if he could fuck me and I told him he would need some grease to lubricate my anal passage. He had none! So, we went to bed and dreamed of various things, but I had the taste of a boy’s semen still in my mouth and it was something I wanted to do again. I guess it was because Rufus asked me, rather than forcing himself on me, and because I liked him. The next night Rufus brought some grease from the kitchen, rubbed it on my asshole and stuck one, two, and then three fingers in it. He greased his own hard dick and then slowly entered me. Before long, he was he was completely inside me and stroked back and forth as his balls hit my ass each time he lunged forward. I had a pleasurable feeling inside me behind my dick. I couldn’t get hard, but something felt good. Finally, Rufus groaned and shot off inside me. We went to the stream to wash off the grease and returned to the cabin, talked for awhile, and then went to sleep. The next day, a white man was present when we were given our orders for the work day. He asked, “Is there a boy named Joe here? Come to me now.” So, I went to him as the others were given their work instructions for the day. He introduced himself to me as Samuel Gordon, the Master’s chief accountant. Mr. Gordon said, “Mr. Vardaman believes that you can write. Can you?” I responded, “Sir, I can write, read, and do arithmetic.” He asked how I learned how to do those things and I replied that I attended school before I was a slave. Mr. Gordon looked at me in a strange way, his eyes and ears trying to take in what I said. “Before you became a slave, Joe?” asked Mr. Gordon. I said, “Yes Sir.” He looked at me and said, “How is that possible, unless...?” He stopped in mid-speech and told me what we were to do. Each year, Mr. Vardaman had an inventory taken of his livestock, wagons and farm equipment, and number of slaves. Mr. Vardaman wanted me to assist Mr. Gordon in the Inventory this year. From that moment, I reported to Mr. Gordon rather than doing other chores. We itemized the number of horses, cattle, hogs, wagons, horse collars, farm implements, and the number of slaves. After taking inventory on the Louisiana plantation, we crossed the river and inventoried “Rose Oaks”, the main plantation of about 400 acres. During this time of inventory of the Master’s estate, Rufus and I continued our sexual contacts 3-4 times a week. I realized that we were in love with one another, but had to keep it a secret. It took almost one month to inventory the estate and I enjoyed this period where I could write and use my knowledge of arithmetic. Since I now had access to paper and ink, I was able to “borrow” some from Mr. Gordon because my own supply had become low. Mr. Gordon and I put the itemized Inventory in a folio, and took it to “Rose Oaks” and I got the opportunity to see the inside of Mr. Vardaman’s plantation home. When I saw the calendar on the wall of the Master’s Study, I realized that I had turned fifteen years old several days before. Mr. Vardaman walked in and told both of us to sit down as he did the same and reviewed the Inventory. He smiled as he checked the figures and looked up at both of us. He said that this was the most thorough Inventory he had ever received and congratulated Mr. Gordon, who immediately pointed out that he had a lot of help from me. Mr. Vardaman said, “Yes, this young man has been of great service to us.” The Master then said that he had heard from Bishop Marelli and Father Greenfield that I could read and write. He asked me if I would serve as his secretary rather than working in the fields. I told him, “Master, I only went to school for about eight years and don’t have the knowledge and learning that you do.” He replied, “You are young and I need someone to write rough drafts for me and after I check it, then I will let you write the finished draft.” I told him I was honored and “I will obey and work for you as you first instructed me when you bought me.” Mr. Gordon put his hand across his face to cover his laughter and Mr. Vardaman smiled and said, “I think this boy put one over on me?” I hastily replied, “Master, I meant no disrespect with what I said.” Mr. Vardaman replied, “I know you didn’t” and started gently laughing! He said that the cotton would be loaded on the steamboats within two or three weeks and he would be going to New Orleans with his wife and family when the last steamboat sailed. Mr. Gordon said, “I didn’t know that you planned a trip to New Orleans?” Mr. Vardaman said he wanted to do some shopping and do some investigating in New Orleans. Mr. Gordon asked, “Some investigating?” And Mr. Vardaman replied, “Yes, I want to see the Archbishop of New Orleans about a certain matter.” Mr. Vardaman said that I would receive daily instructions about my writing assignments from Mr. Gordon during his absence, but that I would receive them personally from him until his departure for New Orleans. He asked me if I would like to move to the slave quarters at “Rose Oak” and I inquired if it would be possible for me to remain in my cabin on the Louisiana side for awhile. Mr. Vardaman said that he would allow me to do that until he needed me on a full-time basis. (Of course, I couldn’t tell them that I wanted to remain with Rufus.) With that taken care of, he dismissed Mr. Gordon and me. As we walked outside, Mr Gordon pulled me out of sight of the house slaves and said, “I believe Mr. Vardaman is checking to see if you are really white and was sold into slavery illegally.” I didn’t know what to say. Mr. Gordon went on and said, “Mr Vardaman is troubled by your pale skin, your blond hair, your blue eyes, and the fact that you have been educated. Niggers don’t read and write! It’s against the law to educate a Nigger! In my opinion, you are probably just a fair-skinned mulatto.” After I returned to the slave cabins on the Concordia Parish side of the river, I waited for Rufus to return and we talked about many things, including what was told to me by Mr. Gordon. I asked Rufus not to say anything to anyone about it and he agreed. He told me, “I wondered from the first day we met how anyone with your skin and eye color could be a nigger.” We enjoyed love making again that night and for the first time since I was ripped away from my family, I really felt loved! I was very happy spending time with Rufus.
CHAPTER 8 Free at Last I helped Mr. Vardaman with his paperwork until he left for New Orleans and then I assisted Mr. Gordon. In early November, (I heard) Mr. Vardaman returned to “Rose Oaks” and Mr. Gordon came to the slave quarters and brought me back to “Rose Oaks.” We came to Mr. Vardaman’s study where Mr. Vardaman had us sit down around a small table on which he had some papers. Mr. Vardaman said, “I met with Archbishop Blanc in New Orleans and he had a letter from the Bishop of Louisville asking him to locate and free a white boy illegally sold into slavery by his father. Even though part of me thought you might be white, another part believed that you are a fair-skinned mulatto. When the Archbishop asked me where and when I purchased you, I told him I paid $800 for you to Bishop Marelli in August of this year. The Archbishop said that he had visited with Bishop Marelli and inquired about an enslaved white boy, but was told that the Cathedral of St. Mary owned no slaves.” My heart leaped when he mentioned Bishop Marelli’s name. Mr. Vardaman showed me a piece of paper called “Certificates of Slaves”, a document required by Mississippi law that anyone selling a slave had to show to the clerk of the probate court that the seller came lawfully into the possession of the slave. Mr. Vardaman pushed in front of me the Bill of Sale for one 13 year old mulatto boy by a Mr. Barclay to Franklin and Armistead, Slave Traders. Mr. Vardaman asked, “Is this you and who sold you?” I replied, “It’s me and my Dad sold me to those men.” He asked if both my parents were free whites and I told him they were. Mr. Vardaman then showed me the Bill of Sale stating a 13 year-old male mullato was sold for $785 to Bishop Marelli. Then, he showed me the Bill of Sale for a 14 year-old mullato boy for $800 to Mr. Vardaman by Bishop Marelli. A chill went down my back at that time! Mr. Vardaman stared at Mr. Gordon and me for a long time. He added that a Daniel and Permela Barclay had written to Archbishop Blanc asking if he knew about a 13 year-old white boy who had disappeared and, to their knowledge, sold into slavery. He asked, “Who are these people.” “They are my Dad’s parents”, I replied. I hadn’t seen my grandparents since I was 6 or 7 years old! Mr. Gordon said, “So the boy is white?” Mr. Vardaman replied that the evidence indicated I was white, but the court would have to decide. Archbishop Blanc told Mr. Vardaman that the Church would reimburse him for the money he paid for me IF the court ruled that I was white and not a slave. Mr. Vardaman looked very sad and told me that he would give the documents he had to his attorney so the city court could make a ruling in my case. He then left us, got in his buggy and headed towards Natchez. Mr. Gordon told me that I needed to get any of my possessions from the slave quarters and return to “Rose Oaks” so I would be available when the case came before the judge. We took the ferry across the river and I went in the cabin and got my few possessions, including my journal. I was sad and tearful as I kissed Rufus for what would probably be the last time and briefly told him what happened. While he was also sad, he was happy that I might win my freedom. We both cried and I heard Mr. Gordon shout that we needed to get to the ferry before it left for the last time. My law suit was filed and the trial was set for November 15, 1858. Mr. Vardaman’s attorney, Mr. Brown, represented me at the trial. Twelve all-white men were seated in the jury and I was given some nice clothes to wear by Mr. Vardaman. I noticed that Mr. Franklin and Mr. Armistead were there with a man I thought must be their attorney. Since Mr. Franklin was personally involved when my Dad sold me, He was called to testify. My lawyer, Mr. Inghram, asked Mr. Franklin to describe how I came to become his slave in Memphis. Mr. Franklin said, “His Father brought him to my place of business, signed a paper stating he was a mulatto, and sold him to me for $300.00" Mr. Inghram then questioned if my Father said anything after he received the money. Mr. Franklin replied, “I can’t recall his exact words, but Mr. Barclay said that the $300.00 was to pay some gambling debts.” He added, “Besides that, anyone who can see can tell that this boy is a nigger.” Mr. Inghram asked the Judge to have the remark stricken from the records and the jury to ignore his statement, to which the Judge agreed. I was not put on the witness stand since slaves could not testify in court. The Judge recessed the court until after lunch when the attorney for the State and my attorney presented their summaries to the jury. The jury went into a room in the courthouse and emerged about one hour later with a verdict. As I rose to face the jury, my heart was pounding for I knew that very few cases such as mine were won. The foreman of the jury stated that the jury believed I was white and had been illegally enslaved by the actions of a greedy Father, anxious to sacrifice his son to get out of debt. They recommended that Franklin and Armistead reimburse me for my loss of manhood with a payment of $1,000.00 and pay for my expenses back to Kentucky. The Judge ordered Franklin and Armistead to pay the fine and expenses to me as set forth by the jury and they had the legal right to sue my Dad for fraud. I hugged my attorney as we went to the judge’s bench where my Certificate of Manumission was signed. We waited until Mr. Franklin’s accountant brought $1,200.00 cash to the judge. I don’t think Mr. Franklin wanted to face either the people at court or me because he had committed a crime and it would be public knowledge. I accompanied my attorney back to his office where Mr. Vardaman was waiting. I thanked Mr. Vardaman for restoring my freedom and hugged him and wept. He said, “I feel a terrible personal loss because you are free, but it was only right to do it. I feel even more terrible in that you were enslave and gelded and cannot have children. You are a fine lad and I wish you well.” He had my meager belongings, but he had a slave put them in a new bag for me; and then we went to the steamboat office to purchase my ticket to Louisville. Mr. Vardaman surprised me with two new suits of clothes for my trip. He even paid for a telegram to be sent to my Mother telling her that I was coming back home by steamboat and rail. Mr. and Mrs. Williams, the lady who helped me so much, came to see me off. I embraced both of them and thanked them for all of their help in freeing me. I boarded the “Mississippi Giant” for my trip to Memphis and had a nice cabin this time to sleep. I was able to enjoy the trip and walked around the steamboat many times a day. It was a far different trip than the one I had made in chains in 1857. The trip upriver took longer due to the current, but the ship made it to Memphis on the twenty-second day. I bought my train ticket in Memphis, took the Memphis and Ohio Railway and connected with the Louisville and Nashville Railway, which brought me to a small depot not far from my family’s farm. I saw hundreds of people waiting for me when I got off the train. The Bishop of Louisville, other politicians, as well as people who came to greet me cheered as I got off the train. My Minister and members of my church were there to welcome me as well....and I saw my Mother, brother, and sister and ran to hug them. We all cried tears of joy at my return. With bowed heads, we heard our Minister and the Bishop of Louisville say prayers of thanksgiving for my release from the bonds of slavery and return to the bosom of my family. While I am missing a part of my body that makes me a man, I was home and nothing is better than being among the ones you love—--and I suddenly thought of Rufus.
EPILOGUE Through the Williams at the Cathedral of St. Mary, I learned that Bishop Marelli was transferred to a bishopric in India, where I heard that he died on board the ship before he arrived. Through my Dad’s parents, who wrote to me, I learned that my Dad had been convicted of fraud and selling a white child into slavery and sent to prison for five years. *********************************************************** NOTES/INFORMATION FROM THE AUTHOR: Readers may wonder how a parent could sell a child into slavery, but , aside from the plantation gentry, many people throughout the South had little money. One dollar purchased a lot in those days. I will cite a few statistics to point out what I mean about the enormous purchasing power of the dollar back then: 1. Beef in Illinois sold at 4 cents a pound in 1856. 2. Bread sold for 7 ½ cents a loaf (1860). 3. A chicken sold for a little over a dime (1856). 4. A doctor’s office visit was between 50 cents and $1.00 between 1855 and 1864.. 5. In 1853, a funeral, counting all charges cost about $84.00. Today a funeral will cost between $6,000-$7,000. 6. In 1860, farm hands (including board) were paid $140 per year! 7. Industrial employees earned between $250-$400 annually in 1860. 8. Non-farm laborers earned $1.04 PER DAY in 1860. 9. Daily wages, including board for farm labor averaged 46 cents in 1860. 10. Lincoln purchased his two-story frame cottage with six rooms for $1,500.00. While kidnaping and smuggling are repulsive today, the aforementioned motivation of money and the opportunities to make it explain why people were willing to engage in such activities since the sale of slaves brought huge profits to all involved in the sales field.
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