“Is it my turn next?” said Myrta admiring Clotees neat stitching compared to hers and Harriet’s. Clotee was by far the best one at sewing out of them all. That is why she worked in the Big House and Miss Weaver will make sure that Clotee would always stay there as everyone knew that when she was good enough she was to make dresses for Miss Weaver.
“Yeah, but hurry dis time, last time ya took like a week!” Harriet loved stitching the quilt and always had, even if she wasn’t that good.
“I wish I worked in da Big House.” Myrta had always wished that she were good enough to work in there out of the burning hot sun and the whip of Waithe. He was employed by Master Weaver to see to all the field hands and probably got a good salary at that.
“No ya don’t, once ya ‘ave worked in dere near Master and Mizz Weaver ya will wanna stay on the fields away from em!” Clotee said pointing at the Big House.
Clotee was the one who worked closely with Miss Weaver and hated every moment of it. Myrta and Harriet rarely saw Miss Weaver as she was not the outdoor type. The only time anyone saw Master Weaver was at the inspections. If your were found guilty of something he got Waithe would publicly whip you.
Clotee was being trained to sew by one of Miss Weaver’s white friends, they were always criticising her and telling her Miss Weaver might aswell give up on her. One of the lessons she hit her in front of Miss Weaver but she didn’t do anything about it because she didn’t care, she only wanted a seamstress to make her dresses.
“At least ya don’t ‘ave to ‘Rise With the Sun.’ I’m always sleepy coz of dat.”
“Well, there is dat. But I wouldn’t mind so long as I weren’t near Mizz Weaver.”
After the Friendship quilt had swapped hands they left to go to bed. Harriet and Myrta were especially sleepy.
************************
The next morning Harriet, along with all the other slaves ‘Rose With the Sun’ and started work. It wasn’t until about 10 o’clock that Harriet noticed that Myrta was missing from her post between her and Missy.
“So,” Missy smirked, “Where’s ya friend, Myrta, today?”
Harriet stayed quiet and ignored her but that made her worse.
“Has she over slept?” She teased, “Probably getting a beating right now!”
Even though Missy had said this, they both knew it wasn’t true. Master Weaver loved to humiliate the slaves “To make an example of them” he says.
But just after that thought had crossed her mind, the whistle blew. This meant an inspection.
“Of all the days, it has to be the day Myrta over sleeps.” Harriet thought. She was going to be beaten for sure.
Master Weaver knew exactly how many slaves he had and knew instantly when any were missing.
Harriet’s heat pounded against her ribs harder and harder as he moved down the line toward her and the gap next to her, where Myrta should be.
She dreaded what would happen if he noticed and he ALWAYS noticed!
As he came closer Harriet could feel a look of guilt spread across her face.
“Where is she?” Master Weaver asked calmly.
“I dunno, Sir,” Harriet replied trembling,
“So; you know who I am talking about then?” Harriet dared not answer, now she was sure for a beating as well now.
“We do not put up with liars on this plantation!” He yelled and the top of his voice.
The tone of his voice was cold and hard. She could feel it right at the bottom of her heart.
“I will ask you again. Where is she?” Master Weaver bellowed whilst pacing in front of her.
“I-I think she-uh-is sleeping.” Harriet clasped her hands over her mouth, she couldn’t believe that she had just told on one her best friends!
“Go get her!” He Bellowed in the direction of Waithe, who promptly hurried off to retrieve her.
Whilst Waithe was gone he explained to the whole group about what happened to lazy, lying slaves.
“…and now you will see a demonstration!” he said joyfully, looking at Harriet with a smug look, just like Missy’s.
Waithe wandered towards the line of slaves and Master Weaver, pushing Myrta in front of him .
“Right, now begins the demonstration!”
He pulled Harriet and Myrta out in front of everyone. He whipped them so hard that you could probably hear them screaming in the next state.
Late that night Harriet went to see Myrta to apologise, she was not in a good way. Her cuts were oozing with blood and her bruises were black as the night sky. Harriet went to call Aunt Bee. She dealt with the injuries and things like that on the plantation.
Aunt Bee mixed up some herbs she had and put it on her.
“Go to bed Harriet, she will be fine.” She said kindly
“No, I wanna stay wid Myrta.” Harriet was certain she was going to stay.
“Look ya must go or ya will get beat again. Take some of this and go to bed.” Aunt Bee handed her the paste she had just applied to Myrta’s wounds.
The next day Aunt Bee went to inform Miss Weaver that Myrta was ill and couldn’t work.
“Well Master won’t like it, but I will see.” Miss Weaver seemed sympathetic but they knew she was putting on a front just to bring the slaves hopes up. Later that day Waithe went into Myrta’s quarters and took her back on to the fields to work.
“Are ya ok?” Harriet asked.
Myrta completely ignored her.
“Please Myrta, I didn’t mean to.” Harriet was truly sorry.
“It don’t matter if you meant it now, it’s done!” Myrta snapped at her.
For the rest of the day there was an awkward silence, which seemed to fill Missy with glee.
“Whats up wid ya?” Aunt Bee asked Harriet whilst tending to her wounds.
“Myrta..” Harriet started but was interuppted by Clotee rushing in.
“What happened?” Clotee panted, “I heard you were beat!”
Harriet stayed silent.
“Is Myrta OK?” Clotee asked, knowing the answer to her previous question.
“Why don’t ya go ask her yourself!” Harriet snapped “She ain’t gonna talk to me!”
“Huh?” Clotee was confused. “But you two were always so close.”
“Yeah? Well we ain’t now!”
************************
The next morning, Harriet went to apologise to Myrta properly, but she couldn’t find her. She went to Aunt Bee to see if she was there but she wasn’t, it seemed like she had disappeared into thin air.
She rushed to the kitchens
“Clotee,” She panted, “Come quick!”
They ran out of the kitchens together,
“What is it?” Clotee said alarmed.
“I can’t find Myrta!” She was shaking with fear, “She had talked about escaping before, but we talked her out of it!”
“I’m sure she won’t have run away!” Clotee said almost wishing.
“But she might have. She might have been caught!” Harriet was almost crying.
They ran all over the plantation searching high and low for Myrta. They ran into Waithe on their way to the Big Oak. He walked past them with a smirk on his face and turned back when he realised they were watching him walk past.
“She tried to run away,” He said with a cruel smirk on his face. That was all he had to say.
Harriet and Clotee raced toward the barn tears rolling down their cheeks, they couldn’t see anyone there. As they stood thinking where she could be and what state she was in Harriet found a hand sized hole in the tree, She reached inside and grasped something. Slowly she pulled what seemed like a pouch of papers out of the hollow trunk. They looked like a diary, it can’t have been a slaves diary none of them knew how to write! But scrawled on the front in a messy scrawl was,
Myrtas Diary
DO NOT READ!
Harriet ignored the front instruction and turned the paper to read. As she started reading she realised this was everything that had been happening in Myrtas life for the last year!
“Clotee this is her diary!” Harriet shouted across the hill,
Clotee ran over, “But she couldn’t write!”
“Well that’s what she TOLD us!” Harriet said whilst looking through the diary. She turned to the last page, there in what looked like a very rushed scrawl was written,
Dis will be da last time I rite in here I died tryin to be free I will be free in heaven Good bye
Myrta xxx
They looked up and both started filling up. They gave each other a hug as the tears rolled down their already moist cheeks.
Harriet was still hugging Clotee when she spotted the barn. She pushed away from Clotee and started running, Clotee followed. They ran down the hill where the Big Oak stood and toward the barn as they came to the barn they both slowed to a walk. As they walked into the barn they instantly saw the shape of a person swinging on a piece of a bedraggled string from a beam in the old barn, as the shape turned they saw it was Myrta.