A slave.

Why, when that there man was young--don't look at him while I'm a-telling it--he was shot in the leg; gashed in the arm; scored in his live limbs, like crimped fish; beaten out of shape; had his neck galled with an iron collar, and wore iron rings upon his wrists and ankles.

The marks are on him to this day.

When I was having my dinner just now, he stripped off his coat, and took away my appetite.' 'Is THIS true ?' asked Martin of his friend, who stood beside them.
'I have no reason to doubt it,' he answered, shaking his head 'It very often is.' 'Bless you,' said Mark, 'I know it is, from hearing his whole story.
That master died; so did his second master from having his head cut open with a hatchet by another slave, who, when he'd done it, went and drowned himself; then he got a better one; in years and years he saved up a little money, and bought his freedom, which he got pretty cheap at last, on account of his strength being nearly gone, and he being ill.
Then he come here.

And now he's a-saving up to treat himself, afore he dies, to one small purchase--it's nothing to speak of.