The Mississippi Trainer (2)
Parr, Duncan the overseer, and I sat down for lunch in the plantation’s parlor to discuss the matter at hand.
"The reason this plantation isn't yielding the efficiency it should is primarily because the slaves aren't being managed effectively," I said.
"Hmm... I thought I was squeezing them quite well," Duncan replied.
"Let me use a simple analogy. If you were to wring out a rag, which one would yield more water: a rag soaked in a bucket, or one that has already been wrung dry?"
"Are you saying the slaves are in poor condition?"
As expected of a senator, Parr’s mind was sharp; he grasped the meaning of my words immediately.
"Precisely. You are a man who enjoys horse racing, so you know this well. If you could win first place simply by whipping a horse, any horse in the world could become a Triple Crown winner in England."
"That is a fair point. Your own slaves certainly looked to be in quite good condition."
"If you improve the nutritional state of a single slave and allow them to exercise, their efficiency increases by at least 20, sometimes up to 30 percent. Furthermore, because they are healthy, they don't fall ill as often, and their recovery speed is significantly faster."
Of course, no matter how much I spoke like this, these gentleman planters would have no intention of treating their slaves with such care. They couldn't be sure of the profit margins, and the immediate increase in food expenses would be money straight out of their pockets.
Parr, who had been lost in thought while chewing his meat, turned to look at Duncan and me with a peculiar smile.
"Then, shall we try applying this to Cedar Grove Plantation as a test?"
"I have no objections. I will transform every slave on this plantation into the finest workers. I call this my 'Physical Conditioning Program.'"
"W-wait a moment, Senator. If Mr. Sett improves the plantation's condition, then I..."
"Naturally, you'll have to look for another position. How many more chances do you expect me to give you?"
"I, I can do better! If I squeeze the slaves harder, I'm sure...!"
Duncan, suddenly on the verge of unemployment, protested desperately, but Parr just tilted his head with a bored expression.
"Just follow Sett's instructions for now. I will decide after I see the results."
He had been the overseer for years, yet other than enthusiastically driving the slaves into the ground, he had nothing to show for it. He had no room to complain even if he were fired.
Duncan bit his lip hard and glared at me, but I calmly finished my glass of wine and stood up.
"Excuse me, I need to visit the washroom."
As I turned my back, I could feel his hostile gaze piercing my spine. Excellent. Now I could proceed with my plan without any hesitation.
I deliberately made my footsteps loud as I left the dining room, then leaned against the wall to eavesdrop on the conversation inside.
"Senator, I have worked for this plantation for years. How can you cast me aside just because of the words of a young man like that?"
"I am not casting you aside; I am saying I will decide based on the situation."
"But... you know. Feeding those niggers well only increases food costs. Sett's theory is complete nonsense!"
How curious. A normal person would have begged for another chance, promising to change their policy and follow my lead, wouldn't they?
I smirked and headed outside to Leo, who was waiting.
"I'll keep Duncan and Parr occupied inside, so you go and contact the slaves. Collect specific examples and evidence of the atrocities Duncan has committed."
"Yes, sir. But what if they report us?"
"Judging by Duncan's behavior, I don't think we need to worry about that. When it comes to cruelty, he seems to have the kind of personality that puts him in the top 1 percent even here in Mississippi. If you ask them what Duncan has been doing, they'll spill everything."
If I just promised them that they would be sold to a different plantation if they cooperated, there would be more than enough slaves willing to help.
Watching Leo change into work clothes to avoid notice and head toward the slave cabins, I hummed a tune and returned to the parlor.
"Ah, my apologies. I had a bit of a stomach ache, so I was late."
"Hahaha, is a young man like you suffering from constipation?"
"Indeed. I suppose I should increase my vegetable intake."
"By the way, do you have any interest in horse racing? We really ought to host a prestigious race here, like the St. Leger or the Derby, just like those British fellows."
"I am in full agreement. Shouldn't we see a Triple Crown winner—one recognized by the entire world—born right here in America with our own eyes?"
I chatted glibly with Senator Parr, keeping the trivial conversation going until nearly sunset.
On the way back to the Sett plantation after finishing all the discussions, I was receiving a real-time report from Leo inside the carriage.
"That bastard Duncan Skinner is pure trash. He's so vile that you can feel the hatred the entire plantation has for him. If left alone, someone might actually take the initiative and kill him."
"Is it that bad?"
"Yes. They begged me to sell them to another plantation. They said if not, someone might really end up killing him... Here is a list of the atrocities Duncan Skinner has committed."
Whipping and verbal abuse were standard, and physical torture was almost a weekly event. He had even cut off the ears of innocent slaves on false charges. The reason? Simply because he was in a foul mood that day.
He even frequently called slaves out in the middle of the night while drunk to subject them to physical and sexual abuse. While doing all this, he had the audacity to lie to the plantation owner, claiming the slaves were too rebellious and disobedient, necessitating the punishment.
Hmm, I understand perfectly. He’s just a piece of trash who wouldn't be missed if he vanished from the world right now.
Hearing the stories, it was certain that even without my intervention, he would be killed by one of the slaves within a year. Of course, the slaves would be punished, but cases of slaves rising up to kill an overseer, even knowing they would die for it, occurred occasionally.
"What about specific evidence and records?"
"Abuse rarely leaves physical evidence other than scars, but I have recorded vivid testimonies from the slaves. I’ve also secured credibility through cross-verification."
"Well done. Now, the question is how our Duncan will react."
The only way for him to survive is to accept my policy and vow to be reborn as a 'reformed Duncan.' If he doesn't, he'll be killed by the other slaves even if I don't lift a finger.
"Master, what will you do from here on?"
"Parr has agreed to follow my policy, so I intend to provide the slaves at Cedar Grove with good meals and exercise."
"What if Senator Parr or the original owner of the plantation finds out about your secret?"
"That’s impossible, so you don't need to worry."
I reassured the concerned Leo and gave him the short reason.
"Because Cedar Grove Plantation will be mine."
"Aaaargh! James Sett, you son of a bitch!"
Bang! Bang!
"A young brat who has nothing but the property he inherited from his parents, daring to—!"
Mississippi's greatest slave trainer? What was so special about beating some stupid Northern Yankees at baseball? A massive improvement in plantation profit margins? That must be a trick of some kind.
Unable to suppress his rage, he scanned the slaves working with the eyes of a hawk. Seeing a fence a slave was repairing that was slightly crooked, he rushed over like lightning and swung his whip.
"You! You crippled idiot!"
Crack! Crack! Crack!
"You nigger bastard! I told you! To do it! Properly!"
"S-sorry... I'm sorry. I'll do it again right—ugh!"
Thud!
The slave, hit in the stomach by a kick following the whipping, collapsed and groaned, trembling pitifully on the ground. Duncan kicked the fallen slave a few more times to vent his stress, then clicked his tongue and caught his breath.
As expected, stomping on niggers was the most effective way to relieve stress when it built up like this.
"They say if you feed these stupid bastards well and make them healthy, they work better? What a load of bullshit."
He spat forcefully and ground his teeth, slapping the heads of the slaves standing awkwardly nearby.
"I’ve been so devoted to this plantation, and that brat dares to insult my methods? I will make that bastard regret it. Seeing him feed the slaves well, James Sett is clearly a nigger-lover who only pretends to squeeze them. He’s just doing the groundwork to side with the North later."
Even to him, it was an absurd accusation, but in agitation, facts didn't matter. His goal was simply to shatter Sett's reputation and deal him even the slightest blow.
"Hey, you, come here. And listen carefully to what I’m about to say."
Duncan called the slaves over and shared his strategy, which would have surprised even Napoleon or George Washington. He couldn't let anyone destroy his kingdom. Duncan truly believed that if he just got rid of James Sett, all his problems would be solved.
"The people we recruited from Cedar Grove are spilling everything; they say Duncan Skinner is preparing to frame you, Master."
"Frame me? How?"
Duncan's grand plan was delivered to my desk like a rocket shipment in just two days. I didn't know what he was thinking, blabbing his plan in front of slaves, but on the other hand, I understood.
There were generals during the Civil War who blabbed secrets, thinking the slaves wouldn't understand what they were saying, and Duncan was the same. He was likely stuck in the mindset that monkeys who were good at working wouldn't be able to understand his profound strategy even if they heard it.
"Duncan plans to spread rumors that you aren't actually exploiting the slaves, but are a disgrace to planters who gets along with them and cares excessively for their health. He also plans to spread rumors that you are acting this way as a precursor to siding with the North."
"...That's a frame-up, right?"
The bastard was surprisingly accurate. It would be perfect if he just added that I was supporting them so they could build happy families.
"The slaves who told me this said it was such a ridiculous fabrication that practically no one would believe it."
"Hmm, that’s a very desirable perception."
"But Master, if you leave Duncan as he is, some people might have unnecessary misunderstandings or suspicions. Wouldn't it be better to take action?"
Indeed, even if it was nonsense, if bastards like that kept stirring the pot, people who already disliked me might use Duncan's frame-up as a tool to attack me. Even if it was just a lucky guess, Duncan's frame-up wasn't actually a frame-up.
"Yes. Since he made his choice, he will have to take responsibility for it."
If he had bowed his head and promised to follow my policy, I would have ensured he lived comfortably enough, but if he was going to act like this, I was grateful.
I organized all the atrocities Duncan Skinner had committed, which Leo had compiled, and tucked them neatly into an envelope.
"Deliver this to John Brown. Tell him there is a devil here trying to drag 90 black people to hell, and ask for his prayers."
"Do you mean prayers for exorcism?"
"What a terrifying thing to say. Still, if he happens to be curious about information regarding Cedar Grove, tell him to let me know as much as he wants. Oh, and if he’s coming to Mississippi, tell him to let me know the date as well."
This was absolutely not about training the slaves in advance to tire them out or setting up an appointment with Senator Parr to create an alibi.
"Understood. I will also attach a detailed map and security structure of Cedar Grove Plantation."
It had been a while since I’d seen John and Owen's faces. Southern planters enjoyed hunting, not just horse racing, because they followed everything the European nobility did. When a precious guest arrived, they would hunt together and celebrate by sharing the harvest.
As a major planter recognized in the South, I had to faithfully follow these traditions. Now, it was time to enjoy the hunt with my guests.