Belleview

The plantation known as Belleview occupied five thousand acres of land. The main house and estate was located Northeast of where the city of Richmond is today, about ten miles from the Rappahannock river. The plantation was founded in 1741 by a British aristocrat named Benjamin Ffolkes when it was granted to him by charter from the Crown. Ffolkes was a successful businessman and trader who came from a long line of businessmen and traders. His father was a member of Parliament and held various positions in the government as had several of his other relatives. To say that he was well placed in British society would have been an understatement. Before leaving for the colonies Ffolkes took a young wife, Abigail Sunders, a young woman from Surrey whose father had achieved modest supplying the Royal Navy with lumber for ships. She was a beautiful young woman with a caring disposition.

After making the crossing a small cabin was built to house the family while the new plantation manor was being built. Ffolkes had purchased several hundred slaves to work the plantation and one quarter of that force worked on the Mansion, which was completed in a year. The rest of the slaves, along with locally hired foreman and tradesman, commenced preparing fields for planting, planting those fields, building slave quarters, barns and stables. The plantation would raise wheat and tobacco, as well as corn, cotton, various other cash crops. Ffolkes also fancied himself a horseman and was determined to breed horses as well as cows, sheep and other livestock. In a year the plantation was raising its first crops and the family had moved to the Manor house. Within five years the plantation was thriving and selling huge lots of crops to be shipped back to England and her satellites. Within this time two things became apparent to anyone involved in the day to day operation of the plantation: it would be a huge financial success, and Ffolkes was an arrogant tyrant, self centered and abusive to every person and animal he came into contact with.

In 1750 a poor Irish peasant named Tom Fitter sold himself and his wife Mary into indentured servitude. They would cross to the new world and essentially be slaves for seven years to some plantation owner who they did not know. While the idea of selling himself in this way disgusted Tom on hand, on the other he was essentially a slave to his poverty and the system he found himself living under in Ireland anyway. At least in America, once they served their years out, there would at least be some hope of bettering their circumstances and the circumstances of the children they hoped to have. They arrived at Belleview and were immediately put to work. Mary in the main house as a cook, and Tom in the fields as a straw boss. He worked the fields with the slaves but was put in charge of a small squad of them. A straw boss or platoon leader, so to speak. The work was grueling, but Tom and Mary were well liked and well regarded by their Masters. During their second year Mary became pregnant and had a son Timothy. Timothy was a happy, healthy lad and grew up playing with the other children on the plantation. Abigail had four children whom she loved, and felt motherly towards all of the children on the property. At her insistence, all of the children were tutored and taught to read, write, figure sums, and enjoy literature. Life was good until Timothy’s sixth birthday when tragedy struck. Tom and Mary had been sent on a Sunday to a neighboring plantation to effect some local trading. They carried a load of barrels and tools fabricated at Belleview that had been traded for other items from the neighboring plantation. The trip would take a few hours each way, plus the time to unload and reload the wagon. It was expected that a meal would be involved also.

By ten o’clock that evening they had not returned. The foreman was notified and he in turn rode up to the Mansion and informed Ffolkes. Riders were dispatched to look for the missing couple. They were found about halfway between the two plantations. The wagon was halfway off the road and the horses were grazing in the grass and waiting for direction. Tom and Mary were found a few feet away. Tom had been shot in the head and Mary had been stabbed repeatedly and apparently raped. After the funeral Abigail insisted that Ffolkes take Timothy, who she’d always adored, in as a ward. Ffolkes refused to take the boy in as an adoptee, but agreed to let him stay on as a young servant until he was twenty one. At that point he could either sell himself for another seven years or leave the plantation.

---

Tim awoke from his sleep in his small corner of the stable and stretched. He padded over to the first stall, which was empty at the moment, and relieved himself. He was sixteen years old, tall and lithe yet very strong. When not being tutored by Mrs. Abigail’s black frocked taskmasters, he was always working somewhere on the plantation. Over the years he done just about every job there was and was known to be quick learning and hard working. He had eventually become a stable boy and now managed the stables on the place. He loved animals and knew horses extremely well. He was an expert rider, top trainer, and amateur veterinarian. He had come to regard the plantation as his home since he had never lived anywhere else and felt truly affectionate toward Mrs. Abigail. She was a saint and he knew the feeling was mutual.

“Tim, are you there? Get Shadow ready, I’m going for a ride. And be damned quick about it!” shouted Ffolkes from the house

As much as he loved Mrs. Abigail he loathed Ffolkes. The man had no regard for others, was mean to the workers on the place, and worse of all, abused the animals. Tim hated to see anyone abuse an animal and took great pains to shelter the animals on the plantation from Ffolkes’ attention, but there was only so much he could do. Lately, as he’d gotten older and begun to feel the first traces of manhood, he’d found himself growing angry whenever Ffolkes had one of his outbursts. He had begun imagining taking some preventive or even punitive action toward him. Tim saddled Shadow, a big beautiful stallion, and walked him out of the stable to the courtyard and waited for Ffolkes, who came out of the front door followed by his two hounds Achilles and Hector.

“Dammit Hector get out of my way!” Ffolkes yelled as the kicked the dog hard in the side

Ffolkes was dressed in formal English riding gear, with big black boots and a riding crop which Tim was sure he would gleefully use on Shadow during their run, for no good reason except to vent his baseless anger at the world.

“He is all ready for you sir.” said Tim, handing the reins to Ffolkes

“He had better be! Having you been taking good care of my property?” asked Ffolkes accusingly

“Yes sir.” replied Tim

“Well see that you do boy. There are a lot of other boys here that would like to have your situation, never forget that!” he sneered

“I will not sir.” replied Tim

As Ffolkes rode off Tim seethed with anger. He felt his heart speed up and had an unquenchable urge to hit something. He walked off in frustration to take some air and work off his anger. He’d find some breakfast later. He ended up down by the shops and ran into Crawford, who was twenty and was an apprentice to the cooper. They had never liked each other.

“What are you doing in this neck of the woods?” asked Crawford with a sneer

“It’s none of your business!” snapped Tim

“Well suppose I make it my business, boy?” said Crawford stepping directly in front of Tim

That was it. Tim exploded and attacked the man, wrestling him to the ground and pummeling him in the face and chest. After a few minutes of rolling in the dust, Tim felt a pair of strong hands grab him by the back of the neck and shoulders and haul him up. Talbot, the blacksmith.

“‘Ere, ‘ere. Now what’s this? You lads had best use that energy for something constructive or you’ll be in more trouble than you’ll care to know. Now Tim, go on back to the stables. You boy, Crawford, back to the barrels with ye.”

Tim sauntered back to the stables thinking about what had happened. He had lost control and attacked Crawford. And it had felt good. He suddenly realized that he hadn’t really been mad at Crawford at all. It was Ffolkes that he was angry at. This thought scared him, but something had awoken in him and he knew that he must find a way to resolve these feelings.

Over the next two years life on the plantation continued as before. The sun was hot, the work was hard, everyone was well fed, and Ffolkes became increasingly abusive. He would bring back horses from rides tired and lathered with their sides sporting welts from the crop and cuts from the sharp spurs he’d taken to wearing. Tim had repeatedly seen him beat the animals when something about their behavior or demeanor displeased him. He routinely kicked and abused his hounds and other dogs on the estate for no apparent reason. Tim came to the conclusion that there was something wrong with Ffolkes. He was simply a despicable person. Did the man’s wealth and privilege entitle him to mindlessly abuse those around him. Was there not some authority that would answer this behavior?

One day Tim heard that an escaped slave had been returned to the plantation and that Ffolkes himself was going to punish the man that afternoon in the open. All of the slaves and servants were required to attend. Tim made his way to the appointed place in a field behind the slave quarters to find a large crowd gathered. In the middle, a pole had been sunk in the ground and extended about eight feet above ground. There was a slave, a powerfully built man lying naked, chained to the pole. He was bloody and bruised having been obviously beaten repeatedly since his recapture, and moaned and called to his gods for help. Ffolkes arrived with several foreman and strode into the clearing before the man. He turned and made a long speech about the benefits that he bestowed upon the slaves and how they were his property. That god ordained that they fulfill their responsibilities toward him, etc. Finally, gesturing toward the slave lying in the dust he said “And now, we must make example of this slave. We must make an example to him that this behavior, this theft of his person from my purview will not be tolerated, and an example to each of you that the same will happen to you if you so transgress.”

And with that, two foreman hauled the man to his feet and Ffolkes whipped him long and hard until his back was a mass of shredded, bloody meat. Thinking the demonstration over, the crowd began to disburse.

“Wait!” Ffolkes yelled “that was punishment for this slave’s actions. Now we apply preventative measure to stop it from happening again.”

And with that, the slave was dragged over to a tree stump and his foot rested on the stump. Ffolkes removed his frock coat, picked up an ax and strode over and hacked the slaves foot off.”

A collective cry elicited from the crowd as another foreman ran forward and dumped a pail of molten tar onto the stump of the slave’s leg. Then the unconscious slave was dragged back to the pole and left for a week. Remarkably, the slave lived through the ordeal and once healed, returned to work in the fields.

Timothy was disgusted by what he had seen. He found it hard to accept that a human being could stoop to such cruelty and his seething anger toward Ffolkes grew.

A few months later Tim stood in the courtyard one morning, holding the reins and waiting for Ffolkes to appear for his morning ride. As the door to the house flung open he heard Ffolkes bellowing at someone inside. A voice responded from inside and Tim recognized it as being Mrs. Abigail’s. As Ffolkes stepped out of the door he turned and shouted “Goddammit woman, do as I say! Go back to your needlework and desist! I’ve given you my answer and it is no! Let me hear no more about it!”

As Ffolkes turned to walk toward him Tim saw Mrs. Abigail come through the door.

“Sir, please! I beg you, the child needs to see a Dr.!” she exclaimed

Ffolkes, flush with anger, turned on his heel, strode back to her and hit her several times with the riding crop! Tim was moving before he could stop himself. He reached Ffolkes, grabbed the arm holding the crop and folded it behind the man’s back in a hammer lock pulling from Mrs. Abigail. “Sir, please you do not really want to hurt this gentle woman do you?” he asked him

“Unhand me you lout!” Ffolkes screamed, turning toward Tim “How DARE you touch me!” he said and began striking Tim about the head and shoulders with the crop until he felt himself sinking to his knees. Soon two pairs of rough hands were lifting him to his feet and holding him before Ffolkes. The ever present foremen. Ffolkes pushed his face right up to the end of Tim’s. He was red in the face and had a crazed look in his eyes. “You presume to interfere with me when I’m with my WIFE, you pissant? Have you any idea how insignificant you are? Well good sir, I am about to show you!”

They strung him up to a wagon wheel in the courtyard. Again, everyone had been ordered to watch. Ffolkes spoke again at length about how good he had been to Tim, taking him in after his parents were killed, and described his ‘attack’ on Ffolkes’ person, conveniently leaving out the part about beating his wife with a riding crop. Then Ffolkes began to horsewhip him. Each lash caused pain to explode in Tim’s brain, and also for his anger toward Ffolkes to grow a little bit stronger. By the twentieth lash he was beginning to get delirious. By the thirtieth, something snapped. He felt his senses sharpen. He no longer felt any pain from the beating. He was trying to put his finger on his feelings when it came to him - he felt resolved. A decision had been made in his subconscious and floated into his consciousness. He had determined a course of action and nothing would deter him. Not the lash, not Ffolkes, nothing.

It took him about a week to recover from the beating. He laid on his cot in the stable. Morning and evening one of the slave healers came and applied a homemade ointment to his back which was in serious disrepair. It stank horribly, but seemed to help. After a few days it only hurt when he moved quickly or too much in the extreme. After a week the pain was faint and he felt well enough to get up and about. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen to him so he continued his normal duties, currying horses, mucking stalls, feeding. Ffolkes did not seem to be about and never called for a horse. During his second week up and about, a house slave came to get him. “Massah want to see you now!” said the young boy

Tim walked into the house and was shown into the study. There behind a desk sat Ffolkes who stared at him intently from the moment he was shown in. After a minute or so Ffolkes gestured to a chair before the desk “Sit down.”

“I take it that you have had time to see the error of your ways?” Ffolkes asked snidely

“I have considered my actions, yes” replied Tim

“So, you know that you were wrong then?”

“In one aspect, yes, I suppose I was.” said Tim

“What do you mean in one aspect. You were wrong, say it!” hissed Ffolkes

“It seems that it is always wrong for a servant to reproach his master.” said Tim

“You are not making sense boy. What are you trying to say?”

“May I speak plainly sir?” asked Tim

“Yes, please do!” said Ffolkes growing irritated

“I was wrong to grab your arm and stop you in the sense that a servant should not do that, but I would do it again because I could not stand to see Mrs. Abigail hurt nor could I imagine that you really wanted to hurt her sir.”

“That’s where you’re wrong you snivelling little pissant! I did want to hurt her. And do you know what? I’m going to hurt her again and again, and there’s not a thing you can do about it.”

Tim considered his words for a moment and asked “so it was not just a fit of temper?”

“No, you cunt! I like hurting her. And now I’m not only going to enjoy hurting her, I’m going to enjoy having you around and making you watch it. And there’s not a damned thing you can do about it!”

Careful, Tim thought. He could feel the anger rising in him, energizing him and beginning to cloud his judgement. He didn’t want to do anything rash, but wanted to get out of here and take some time to consider the situation.

“Do you remember your parents?” asked Ffolkes

“Yes, I remember them fondly” said Tim

“As do I. I remember when they came here. They were so optimistic, so hard working. It was truly inspiring. And your mother. A lovely woman. It wasn’t long before I decided that I had to have her.” Ffolkes said gazing evenly into Tim’s eyes

Tim thought about what he’d just said. What was Ffolkes trying to tell him?

“Don’t you understand? Haven’t you put it together yet? I killed your parents. I met them on the road and just as I was exchanging niceties and making sure of their well being I shot your father in the head. It was amazing. Like fireworks, only blood. Your mother tried to get away. She was a quick one, but I had caught her by surprise. I must tell you, she turned out to be every bit as luscious a little bit of toffee as I imagined. Fucking her was almost as much fun as stabbing her to death.” he said leering at Tim

The dam broke.

---

Tim hoisted Ffolkes up by a rope threaded through a pulley and attached to a beam in the stable. Ffolkes was heavy enough, but Tim was a strong lad and it was not too much trouble to get him hoisted and cinch off the rope. Tim had decided to loop the rope around his chest and under the shoulders, creating a kind of harness, then hoisting him so that he hung upright from the rafter. Tim sat watching Ffolkes dangle, waiting for him to come around from the blow Tim had administered in the study. Blood trickled down Ffolkes’ face from the wound and Tim admired the color.

As he came around, Ffolkes moaned and eventually became aware of his circumstance. His arms were tied behind him and his legs and feet were bound together. He was also gagged. As he hung there trying to speak through the gag Tim stared at him. Finally he spoke.

“There’s no need trying to talk and you can feel that I’ve bound you well. You should probably just relax as much as you can. I’ve always known there was something wrong with you sir. It’s the way you’ve always treated the animals and the people around you. But I never thought I’d see you wantonly attack your beautiful wife over some household spat. And then, there are my parents and my poor degraded mother. You have a lot to answer for sir. I won’t bore you with a long speech trying to justify my cruelty. I’m just going to be cruel. As we proceed through the night, as long as you are able, I want you to think about what you have done. That’s all.”

Tim spent the night inflicting every kind of pain he could imagine on Ffolkes. He didn’t like it, though he did seem to feel some relief from it. While he worked on Ffolkes and later on what had been Ffolkes, he remembered the kindness of Mrs. Abigail toward him, his father and mother and all that they had meant to him.

As the sun rose he piled the last of his canvas wrapped parcels into the wagon. He didn’t know where he was going to go, or if he would ever be free. But he couldn’t stay here and he was young so perhaps he would head north to the westernmost edge of the colonies and see if he could settle there. He had one stop to make on the way though. He had to deliver the newest resident of the Rappahannock river to his watery grave.