IBTCPOTME Novel - Chapter 158
**Chapter 158**
< North and South (12) >
Crack-
The sound of a harsh whip echoed through the plantation day after day.
“You! Scum! You little bastard! Trying to escape? Do you really want to become dog food? Huh?”
The overseer whipped the man with every word.
“I told you not to even dream of escaping! You’ll get caught, I’m telling you. Stupid bastard.”
Woof! Woof-woof!
Dogs were at the feet of the black man hanging from the tree, as if trying to bite him. They would bite the moment he stretched out his leg. The hanging man writhed in pain and fear.
Crack-
“Ugh!”
The sound of dogs barking, the sound of whips cracking, and the groans of pain echoed for more than half a day, but everyone ignored it.
These days, the plantation owner was more concerned with politics than managing the plantation, but the tyranny of the employees had worsened. They knew how the current situation was unfolding and why their employer was running around so hard.
“Try to run away one more time. I’ll kill you for real.”
He couldn’t kill him at will without the owner’s permission, but the overseer snarled.
Recently, the human rights of black slaves, which were already nonexistent, had plummeted even further.
This was because the Southerners were starting to treat the slaves even more harshly, in retaliation for the strong pressure from the North and Mexico to emancipate their slaves.
The price of slaves, which was already high, had risen even further thanks to the 300,000 slaves taken by Mexico.
“Take the dog away.”
The overseer, having punished the slave who had attempted to escape for a long time, finally seemed to have calmed down a bit and ordered his subordinate.
“And take this guy to get treated. Make sure he can work again tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
The order to make him work again tomorrow, after beating him up, was harsh, but it would serve as an example for those who were harboring foolish hopes.
In order to overcome the increasingly difficult economic situation in the South, the Southerners had chosen to squeeze their slaves even harder.
Their lives, which had become even more miserable than before the war, and the hope they had held that they might be emancipated, were driving the hearts of the blacks to hell.
Escape attempts were increasing, even though the crackdown on them was stronger than ever before.
“Foolish things.”
“They have small brains, what can you do?”
As the two employees were mocking them, a visitor arrived at the plantation.
The gentleman, who arrived in a clearly expensive and luxurious carriage, said he had come to make an important business proposal.
“Are you Mr. Leo Clark, the one who’s famous around here lately? The one who ran a gun factory in the North?”
“Yes, but now I’ve sold everything and I’m looking for investors again.”
“Oh, welcome! It’s only right to hear your story when a patriot like you comes.”
This man, Leo Clark, a Southerner who had run a gun factory in the North, was quite famous in the South lately. He was known to have disposed of his assets in the North and come down to the South to build a gun factory there after his home state, the South, declared independence.
Until the early 19th century, most of the guns used by the US military were made in state-owned arsenals, but in the past ten years, gun factories bearing individual names had been increasing.
The plantation owner, who happened to be on the plantation, welcomed him. The South desperately needed patriots like him now. Rumor had it that he wasn’t asking for donations, but for investment, so there was no reason to hesitate.
“Ah, this is my slave, just give him a place in the slave quarters.”
‘Is he a bodyguard? He’s more afraid than I thought.’
He had three white bodyguards with him, and he even brought a strong black slave. But it wasn’t incomprehensible, as he might need him to do various chores.
“Of course.”
Snap-
He snapped his fingers, and one of the employees took the slave away.
The real conversation began. Leo Clark’s plan was ambitious.
“I’m planning a large-scale weapons factory. Much bigger than the one I used to run. As you know, the South needs weapons more than ever now. Demand is overflowing.”
“Well, that’s definitely true.”
“This situation will continue for at least ten years, so for me, who already has the technology and experience, this is an easier business than walking on water. I’ll even provide half the capital, so there’s practically no risk for you investors.”
Before I could admire his eloquent words, Leo Clark placed a gun on the table.
Click-
“This is the weapon I’m going to make. It’s considered the latest even in the North.”
“Wow!”
He was truly an expert. He quickly disassembled and assembled the gun on the spot, explaining his gun technology in detail. His thoroughly prepared logic and his background of running a factory in the North captivated the plantation owner.
As the plantation owner was captivated by Leo Clark’s eloquent words, something similar was happening in the slave quarters.
As night fell and the slaves returned after their hard labor, they started picking on the guest’s slave, named Wilson.
“How much did you suck up to the master?”
“You son of a bitch, look at him, flaunting a rope around his waist. Is he proud of selling out his own people?”
Wilson’s strong build, healthy complexion, the rope hanging from his pants, and the fact that the master brought him along even when he went out. All of these were suspicious signs.
If you were a rich man with a lot of slaves, you would naturally entrust the role of supervising them to a white overseer, but there were those who did that among the blacks as well. Even though they were black and slaves, there were always those who were disgusting enough to spy on and tattle on their fellow blacks to please the whites.
“A guy like Jackson.”
In this mansion, it was Jackson.
“Seeing you talk like that, it seems that Jackson is in that mansion.”
“Yeah, a snitch like you.”
In fact, they couldn’t harm the guest’s slave. They would be whipped if they did. But they were free to gang up on him, cursing and scaring him.
In the menacing atmosphere of everyone staring at him, Wilson responded calmly.
“By the way, do you know what these Southerners did during the Mexican War?”
“Huh? How would I know, you bastard. Does that matter now?”
The man at the front said that, and Wilson suddenly shouted!
“It matters! It matters a lot! They used 30,000 blacks as human shields on the battlefield! They made them charge at the Mexican Empire’s army with only a wooden spear! Does that not matter?”
The shout of the muscular man, who was so strong he was practically gigantic, startled everyone.
The blacks couldn’t say anything. They were startled, but they were also afraid that the white overseers would come to the quarters. It was already late at night, and everyone had gone home except for a few employees guarding the entrance and the warehouse, but a shout like that could have reached them.
“…”
But Wilson, as if he didn’t care about that, spoke confidently.
“The guys who did that are sitting at the top of the Southern Confederacy. Can we be sure that something like that won’t happen again?”
“…”
The slaves were trapped on the plantation, but there were ways for rumors to spread. The plantation owner and the employees were careful not to talk, but they still brought slaves with them when they went to town to sell crops or buy something.
It was difficult to control information in the city, and the blacks secretly shared rumors. They knew that the South had seceded because of the slave issue and that a war was about to break out.
“That’s why we have to resist! We can’t just try to escape, hoping to escape temporary pain, only to die in vain. We need to be more vicious, more covert, more organized!”
“Th, that’s impossible!”
Someone said in a trembling voice.
“No, it’s possible! Because! The South will put everything on the line in the war against the North. They think losing slaves is like losing their lives. A huge number of troops will be mobilized, and that means fewer employees on the plantation.”
Wilson’s words were logical, but more importantly, they contained ‘hope’. They were soon completely captivated by Wilson’s words.
Wilson spent the night informing the slaves of the plan of action, and his companion extorted a large investment from the foolish plantation owner.
***
As autumn approached in 1847, several murders occurred in Missouri.
“Damn it! This is the fifth one this month. Those disgusting slave-supporting bastards.”
“What? You little bastard. What did you just say? You’re in trouble now.”
As the conflict between slave supporters and abolitionists intensified, bloodshed began to occur.
“The city… it’s completely gone to hell.”
A man muttered as he saw two men fighting on the street from morning.
“Honey, shouldn’t we really emigrate?”
“To Mexico? …That’s a bit much even for us.”
The war had ended not long ago. Their family hadn’t been directly harmed, but they still had some resentment.
“You shouldn’t be so proud. We don’t even have slaves, but we’re going to be drafted into the South. You said it yourself. Do you want to be drafted?”
“…”
When her husband didn’t say anything, his wife spoke first.
“I don’t want to. I’m too scared to think that something might happen to you. I don’t want to be drafted by the South, not even the North. I hate it even more to think that we might be drafted by the South.”
Looking at the current situation, the border states could become part of the South at any time. The man had told his wife that, so he couldn’t deny it.
“It’s not safe to go to the North either, and if we’re going to go, we should go to Canada, but it’s too cold and barren there. The immigration benefits aren’t as good as the Mexican Empire either.”
There was a reason why his wife was pleading so desperately.
Kansas City, which had suddenly become a border town, was one of the most conflicted places in Missouri.
This was because Kansas Territory to the west had been ceded to the Mexican Empire, and a huge number of people had moved to Kansas City, just across the river.
They were furious.
“Those Mexican bastards, stealing my slaves? You guys who are siding with those Mexicans are bastards too!”
If they wanted to escape, they should have escaped right after the war ended. But most of those who owned slaves also owned plantations, and there was no way the plantations would be sold when everyone was trying to leave.
While they were dithering, the Mexican Empire mobilized its army and police to forcibly emancipate blacks throughout the new territory. They even said they would confiscate all but 160 acres of the plantations, so they were bound to be furious.
Those who had crossed over, filled with anger, were now active as staunch supporters of slavery, even though they no longer had slaves, and there was a clear place for their pent-up anger to be unleashed.
It was the abolitionists. Now, in the taverns of Kansas City, fists would fly the moment someone complained about slavery or the Southern Confederacy.
As the situation became like that, the abolitionists didn’t just take it lying down.
“It’s your greed that caused this war in the first place!”
“You slave plantation owners have no shame. You’re disgusting.”
The abolitionists’ attacks, based on their moral superiority, further amplified the anger and hatred of the already furious slave supporters.
In the chaotic situation of the city’s rapidly increasing population, hatred easily turned into violence, and violence led to murder. No one could say who started it. Small-scale bloodshed occurred simultaneously in various parts of Missouri.
“Stop! Stop the violence and let’s talk!”
As the situation became truly serious, those who advocated for dialogue emerged, but the emotions of both sides were beyond the point of no return.
The cycle of hatred and violence circulated rapidly. Articles even started appearing about politicians, who should have been managing the situation, being so emotionally charged that they were committing acts of violence against each other.
September 11, 1847.
560 abolitionists attacked a large plantation in Missouri where cotton was being harvested.
Bang-bang-bang!
The plantation also resisted, mobilizing dozens of employees, but they couldn’t withstand the overwhelming numbers, almost ten times their own.
The battle itself lasted less than two hours, but its repercussions were not small.
Someone broke a kerosene lamp during the battle. No one knew if it was intentional or not.
Whoosh-
“My, my plantation!”
The fire spread instantly, and the entire plantation, along with the unharvested cotton, began to burn fiercely.
When the news spread, the anger of the slave supporters burned as fiercely as the plantation.
November 1847.
The cotton harvest was over.