Twelve Years a Slave

Figures of speech

Are they any figures of speech in Pages 43 - 46, chapter III ? When Solomon is fightting for that he became a slave and not a free man

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Sorry, I'm not sure if our page numbers will match.

"Well, my boy, how do you feel now?" said Burch, as he entered through
the open door. I replied that I was sick, and inquired the cause of my
imprisonment. He answered that I was his slave—that he had bought me, and
that he was about to send me to New-Orleans. I asserted, aloud and boldly,
that I was a free man—a resident of Saratoga, where I had a wife and children,
who were also free, and that my name was Northup. I complained bitterly of
the strange treatment I had received, and threatened, upon my liberation, to
have satisfaction for the wrong. He denied that I was free, and with an
emphatic oath, declared that I came from Georgia. Again and again I asserted I
was no man's slave, and insisted upon his taking off my chains at once. He
endeavored to hush me, as if he feared my voice would be overheard. But I
would not be silent, and denounced the authors of my imprisonment, whoever
they might be, as unmitigated villains. Finding he could not quiet me, he flew
into a towering passion. With blasphemous oaths, he called me a black liar, a
runaway from Georgia, and every other profane and vulgar epithet that the
most indecent fancy could conceive.
During this time Radburn was standing silently by. His business was, to
oversee this human, or rather inhuman stable, receiving slaves, feeding and
whipping them, at the rate of two shillings a head per day. Turning to him,
Burch ordered the paddle and cat-o'-ninetails to be brought in. He disappeared,
and in a few moments returned with these instruments of torture. The paddle,
as it is termed in slave-beating parlance, or at least the one with which I first
became acquainted, and of which I now speak, was a piece of hard-wood
board, eighteen or twenty inches long, moulded to the shape of an oldfashioned
pudding stick, or ordinary oar. The flattened portion, which was
about the size in circumference of two open hands, was bored with a small
auger in numerous places. The cat was a large rope of many strands—the
strands unraveled, and a knot tied at the extremity of each.
As soon as these formidable whips appeared, I was seized by both of them,
and roughly divested of my clothing. My feet, as has been stated, were
fastened to the floor. Drawing me over the bench, face downwards, Radburn
placed his heavy foot upon the fetters, between my wrists, holding them
painfully to the floor. With the paddle, Burch commenced beating me. Blow
after blow was inflicted upon my naked body. When his unrelenting arm grew
tired, he stopped and asked if I still insisted I was a free man. I did insist upon
it, and then the blows were renewed, faster and more energetically, if possible,
than before. When again tired, he would repeat the same question, and
receiving the same answer, continue his cruel labor. All this time, the incarnate
devil was uttering most fiendish oaths. At length the paddle broke, leaving the
useless handle in his hand. Still I would not yield. All his brutal blows could
not force from my lips the foul lie that I was a slave. Casting madly on the
floor the handle of the broken paddle, he seized the rope. This was far more
painful than the other. I struggled with all my power, but it was in vain. I
prayed for mercy, but my prayer was only answered with imprecations and
with stripes. I thought I must die beneath the lashes of the accursed brute.
Even now the flesh crawls upon my bones, as I recall the scene. I was all on
fire. My sufferings I can compare to nothing else than the burning agonies of
hell!
At last I became silent to his repeated questions. I would make no reply. In
fact, I was becoming almost unable to speak. Still he plied the lash without
stint upon my poor body, until it seemed that the lacerated flesh was stripped
from my bones at every stroke. A man with a particle of mercy in his soul
would not have beaten even a dog so cruelly. At length Radburn said that it
was useless to whip me any more—that I would be sore enough. Thereupon,
Burch desisted, saying, with an admonitory shake of his fist in my face, and
hissing the words through his firm-set teeth, that if ever I dared to utter again
that I was entitled to my freedom, that I had been kidnapped, or any thing
whatever of the kind, the castigation I had just received was nothing in
comparison with what would follow. He swore that he would either conquer or
kill me. With these consolatory words, the fetters were taken from my wrists,
my feet still remaining fastened to the ring; the shutter of the little barred
window, which had been opened, was again closed, and going out, locking the
great door behind them, I was left in darkness as before.