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The day was balmy outside, but in the darkened house, the old negro woman, head bound in one of those eternal red
bandanas faded with repeated washings, huddled in the kitchen corner, seeking comfort from the meager flames for
her aging bones. Liza Johnson, once the slave of Captain Green, Sabine Pass river boat pilot, was about 22 years old
when the battle of Sabine Pass was fought, but now, past 80, she can describe few details of her youth; her
memories are elusive and her hearing and speech impaired. A silent figure, sitting by the fire, she is continually lost
in reverie and oblivious to her surroundings.
"I was bo'n right 'cross d' ribber from Sabine Pass at Garrison on d' Louisiana side. My ol' marster was Captain
Green. He was a boat captain."
"I 'member w'en dey uster had a war. I could see d' boats comin' up from lookout upon on top of d' house. People in
Sabine wa'n't at d battle. Dey was'n' payin' much 'tenshun t' it. I was 'bout 20 years ol' den.
"Befo' d' war dey had chu'ch in d' house for d' cullud folks. I' a Baptis'. My marster treated us tol'ably. Some of my
neighbors was treated good, some bad, 'pendin' on d' marsters. Ol' marster had, I
reckon 'bout 50 slaves. Dey raise cotton, co'n, sugar cane, 'taters, 'n' other things."
"W'ite folks had big houses. Cullud folks had houses 'bout like dem over dere (the houses were average two or three
room weatherboarded buildings, substantial but rather dingy looking.)
"I don' 'member much 'bout ships comin' t' port in Sabine Pass, but my mammy was down' in the big storm of 1886.
W'en we was young I pick cotton an' card it for spinnin'."
"After freedom come dey tol' 'em dey could stay. Dem dat didn' wanter stay, go git homes of dere own. My younges'
sister stay wid 'em for a while, de res' all lef'."
