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. I caught it, and put it in my
pocket. That evening we tied up at a landing and were delayed for an
hour or so taking on freight. I slipped into the stable to eat my apple,
knowing that Ace would pound me if he learned that I had kept anything
from him, whether he really wanted it or not. Suddenly I grew sick with
terror, as I saw him coming in at the door. He saw what I was doing, and
glared at me vengefully. He actually turned white with rage at this
breach of his authority, and came at me with set teeth and doubled
fists. "Give me that apple, damn yeh!" he cried. "You sneakin' skunk,
you, I'll larn ye to eat my apples!"

He snatched at the apple, and was too successful; for before he reached