Early Morning of December 3, 1859
Lucilla was roused before dawn that morning. That was not unusual, as the conditions in the slave quarters she slept in were quite crowded. Whenever one moved or snored all were aware of it. Lucilla sought to use these times wisely, as they were the only times that she was alone with her infant son. She cradled her offspring close to her. The slave woman’s husband had run off over a year ago, and now this little baby was all she had left of him. The others said that he had taken up with some preacher not too far from here that protected him, but Lucilla knew that was just wishful thinking. No white man would ever help a nigger.
Lucilla heard a rustling again, and this time she grew worried. There was only one reason why anyone would seek to gain entrance to the slave quarters at this hour. An overseer must be on the prowl for a female to have his way with. Now that Lucilla had a child, she was particularly vulnerable to the predatory behavior. Threats on the baby would be all an overseer needed to buy her silence. She closed her eyes and lay as still as she could, hoping and praying that another victim would be selected. She felt a rough male hand on her shoulder and her heart leapt right up into her throat.
But there was something familiar about this touch. She rolled over and opened her eyes to a familiar face indeed. It was her husband! But what was he doing back here? He would get them all killed!
94 “Baby, what you doin’ back here? They be lookin’ fo’ you baby. They say you is one crazy nigger. Baby, they is gonna kill you!” Spartacus’ calm and resolute voice was heard in contrast to his wife’s worried whisper.
“I’m here to rescue you. Goan get you and the baby outa here. There be folks close by here. Folks with guns, folks that be here to help the niggers. We goan get all the niggers outa here. Goan get ‘em outa here and goan give ‘em guns. Then we come back here and see how that damn Jones like it when the bottom rail be on top. We ain’t gotta be ‘fraid no mo’ baby!”
But Lucilla was more afraid than she had ever been in her entire life. She placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder, looked him in the eye, and begged for his life.
“Baby, if you love me, if you ever loved me, then you will turn around right now and run as fast as you can and never come back. This here be crazy talk, baby, you goan get us all killed.” Spartacus would not yield.
“No, I ain’t runnin’ no mo’. I ain’t ‘fraid no mo’. It they turn to be ‘fraid now. They done kilt enough o’ us, now it be they turn to die.”Lucilla’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. She felt icewater pumping in her veins. She was so terrified that her vision grew dim and she was afraid that she would feint.
“They be right, you is one crazy nigger!”But Lucilla was not the only one who was alerted to Spartacus’ presence. Footsteps were heard growing closer to the slave quarters as the overseers came to make sure his conspiracy would be a short-lived one indeed. Spartacus pressed an index finger to his lips.
“Get ready to run baby. Get all the niggers up and get ready to run, it be harder for them to chase you if you all run at once. You run straight up north. There be a town not too far from here. Just axe somebody fo’ Brother Jacob, he help ya.”
Spartacus stacked himself by the door and drew a pair of pistols from his waistband. Lucilla was so frightened she thought she would die from fear before the overseers even got their chance. Spartacus waited until the footsteps were right outside the cabin, and then he popped out. He gunned down one overseer and then another in quick succession. There were only two, but the sound of the gunshots insured that would soon change. Now the entire plantation was awake. Spartacus stuck his head through the door of the slave quarters.
“Run! Everybody run, now! I’ll cover ya!”But they did not run. They only stared at the deadly drama playing itself out right in front of them in mute horror as those who have known nothing but fear their entire lives will do when the opportunity to escape presents itself. Now an army of overseers drew near; all of them armed and ready to crush the slave rebellion before it got started. They started shooting, and Spartacus stood his ground. He was pierced by one bullet and then another. Still, Spartacus stood his ground. One overseer fell and then another. Still, they stood their ground. Then Spartacus ran out of ammunition. Then he was done for.
The overseers stopped shooting and surrounded him. They were determined to take this one alive. The first one that rushed him got a pistol-whipping, but the next one knocked him down. Spartacus did not go down without a fight, but he went down none the less. They had him. Kicking and screaming, cursing and bleeding, they dragged him off to face unspeakable horror.
