All aboard, p.10
All Aboard, page 10
Ruth stayed on her knees and watched as he disappeared.
“I didn’t know that he knew.”
Just before midnight, Slim made his way in the dark to a tree stump just outside the slave quarters. He positioned his banjo on his knee, wiped away a tear, and looked at the stars. His pain came through the words of his song.
Slim stopped singing and looked at the stars in the black sky. Buck slowly walked out of the darkness.
“Everythin’ OK, Slim?”
Slim shook his head and looked down at the ground, without making eye contact.
“You make that banjo sound pretty good.”
“I really like the drums, but we couldn’t play no kind of drums back in Lou’sana.”
“We ain’t allowed to play drums around here either. I don’t think no plantation allows that. They say we know how to talk to one another with the drums. It’s a language they don’t understand. I ’speck they think we’re goin’ to revolt.”
Slim strummed his banjo for a minute or so and then stopped. He was caught up in thought.
“You been here just a short time, Slim. I’m guessin’ you still miss your home.”
“Yes, suh.”
“How you and Belle getting’ along?”
“Some days good, but some days not so good.”
“I can’t tell you what to do, Slim, but you seem so sad all the time. Don’t let Ol’ Cyrus see you slackin’ off none. He’ll get the Massa to come out to the field with one of them speculators. Next thing you know, they’ll slap the handcuffs on you and take you away. We’ll never see you again. You don’t want that.”
Slim was silent. He had a lot of thinking to do.
“Get you some rest, Slim. Got to get up in a few hours.”
Slim’s voice cracked as he spoke. “Sometimes … I feel like I don’t want to go on.”
“How you gonna talk like that? No, no.”
“I got a mind to run on back to Lou’sana and take my chances or maybe run ’til I can’t run no mo’.”
“You takin’ your life in your hands, Slim. Don’t do that.”
“What life? I ain’t got no life. I ain’t got nothin’. I ain’t never gon’ have nothin’. Massa treat his animals better than he treat us. I don’t have nothin’ to make me happy … nothin’ to live for.”
“I understand you got two little girls back in Lou’sana What they gonna say if they find out they pappy gave up on life?”
With tears in his voice, Slim cried out, “Ain’t no tellin’ what kind of life my baby girls gon’ have! Massa, his sons, and any white man who come along can have they way with my babies.” He balled up his fists as he spoke. “They can do whatever they want to my babies. You know that. It jus’ ain’t right.”
“I understand your pain, Slim. My heart aches for you. I got a little boy, and I know that, at any time, somebody—any white man—can do what they want to him, and there’s nothin’ I can do about it.”
“And my wife—they do what they want to her now. There was never nothin’ I could do ’bout it. If I fought back, I would be hanged on the nearest tree. I knew that. Grethel knew that. But the look in her eyes after Massa left our shack was so painful. I wanted to die. I couldn’t protect my babies, and I couldn’t protect my woman.”
The two men shared a moment of silence.
“How do you think my babies feel about me when they see a man come to our shack and get on top of my woman? How they ever gonna respect me, Buck?”
“Look at it this way, Slim. You had to allow all that to keep your family. What they gonna do if you get yourself hanged or castrated or one of your limbs cut off. You did the only thing you could do. They know you love them. They understand.”
“I ain’t worth nothin’.” He started slowly strumming his banjo.
“Get you some rest, Slim. Don’t give up. We all got to keep on livin’. Your little girls are dependin’ on you. No matter what, don’t give up. That’s not how we get through this.”
“How we gon’ get through this? Ain’t nothin’ right ’bout how we livin’? Can’t no good come of this situation, Buck.”
“I believe in my heart that no road stays the same forever. There got to be a turn sometime. This situation has to change. When, I don’t know. How, I don’t know. I believe the white folks are just as afraid of us as we are of them. Only thing, they got all the power. They got all the rights. But we have to be strong and not give up. At least, that’s what I tell myself.”
“I know you mean well, Buck. You a good man. You a smart man. But … sometimes, I can’t seem to find my way.”
“See you in the field tomorrow, Slim.” Buck patted Slim on the shoulder and then walked back into the night.
Through tears, Slim looked at the stars in the sky. “Why was I born, Lawd?”
GETTIN’ EVEN
Mah mammy, she wuz cook at da big house, en
Ah wuz raised in the kitchen en de backyard
at de big house. Ah wuz to be maid fer de
ladies in de big house. De house servants hold
that dey is a step better den de field niggers.
House servants wuz nigger quality folks.
—Lucy McCullough, age seventy-nine
Walton County, Georgia
In the early hours just before dawn, Big Aunty wrapped her braided gray hair in one of her faded floral head wraps. She tied her worn apron around her wide waist and arranged her shawl over her broad shoulders to ward off the Mississippi morning chill. She put her trusty paring knife in the inside pocket of her skirt.
Big Aunty scurried to the Big House in the dark. The dew on the ground dampened the hem of her skirt. She passed other slaves as they made their way to their assigned jobs. Buck had made his presence known throughout the slave quarters. Men, women, and children were moving about in their shacks, preparing for another day on the McMyers plantation.
As she entered the large kitchen, Big Aunty witnessed the Missus slapping one of the new house servants, Bessie. Bessie was very thin, with caramel skin and curly sandy hair. She was almost attractive, save for the scars on her face and neck. She had been purchased a couple of months ago, after one of Massa Odell’s relatives died in Yazoo. She was still trying to catch on as to how the Missus wanted things done in her Big House.
The Missus was once a woman of great beauty. Big Aunty knew this because she dusted all the beautiful portraits the Missus had hung of herself all around the Big House. The Missus prided herself on being attractive.
Big Aunty overheard the conversations the Missus had with visitors to the Big House. She made it clear that she had turned plenty of heads in her day. She figured she’d landed a good man when Odell started courting her. She figured he was on his way to becoming a giant among the cotton planters. She readily accepted his hand in marriage and moved away from her friends and family in Natchez.
The Missus made it clear to Odell that the 175 miles from her kin was like a million miles. She felt lonely and isolated. Odell’s struggle to make his plantation pay off had taken its toll on her. Nowadays, Big Aunty noticed how withered and withdrawn she was. Although she maintained her 130 pounds, her five-foot-seven frame bent a little from the daily stresses of maintaining a plantation. She now wore her coffee-colored hair in a bun at the nape of her neck.
“Bessie, don’t you ever let me catch you loafing again! Do not dawdle! You hear me? You’ve been here long enough to know that I will not tolerate disobedience! I told you yesterday how I wanted my linens put on the beds. I explained that to you very carefully. You must pay attention. I don’t like your ways. You are half doing the work, and that simply will not do. Now follow me, and pay attention. Listen to what I tell you, you trifling wench! Now hurry.”
The young girl, holding her sore cheek, followed closely behind her mistress as she strutted out of the kitchen. Big Aunty saw Mavis peeling potatoes at the other end of the kitchen, her back turned to the situation.
“Mornin’, Mavis. How you fairin’ this fine mornin’?”
With a bend of her head, Mavis motioned for Big Aunty to come closer. When she came over, Mavis beckoned her to come even closer. Big Aunty obeyed, with a curious look.
“I’m tryin’ to figure out a way to kill Massa,” she whispered.
“Is you crazy?” Big Aunty whispered back. “How you gonna do somethin’ like that?”
“I’m still thinkin’. Thought about puttin’ some Jimsonweed in his coffee or maybe poison his eggs. Tell everybody it must have been a sick chicken. Maybe put a snake in his bed—heard tell that’s how ol’ man Parker met his fate.”
Big Aunty frowned and shook her head. “You barkin’ up the wrong tree, Mavis.”
“OK, then, maybe … maybe get some help, and tie him up in the washhouse, and set it afire!” Mavis’s eyes grew larger as she went down her death list. “Maybe I could get him trampled by one of his horses. Or put some oleander in Sunday’s cake. Or maybe grind up some glass and put it in his greens or his favorite pork casserole.”
“Mavis, is you touched in the head? Missus gonna eat it too. Then what?”
“I don’t care if she dies—not the way she beats my Lil Sue. She deserves to die. ’Member when she whipped Bertha’s baby boy to death ’cause she said he cried too much. That woman is kin to the devil. Yes. She’s a shepherd for the devil. I know it. There ain’t a kind bone in her body.”
“That may be true, Mavis, but all fingers will be pointin’ to the kitchen! There’ll be a big oak tree jus’ waitin’ for the both of us.”
Suddenly, a loud scream came from next door. It belonged to poor Bessie. The two women looked at one another for a moment and then continued.
“I could set fire to the stable. That’ll hurt him for sure. It’ll cost him plenty to rebuild it.”
“That is true, Mavis. What we can’t do by fair means, we can do by foul. The problem is we can’t do nothin’ that would point a finger this way. Your little girls need you. You all they got. And how I’m gonna help anybody if I’m dead? We can hurt Massa, but we got to do it in such a way that no one be the wiser. Let’s think some more ’bout this.”
“Massa been hurtin’ my Lil Sue for such a long time. No chile should have to live in fear. I’m her mama, and I’m gonna do something about it. Peein’ in his lemonade jus’ ain’t good enough,” Mavis whispered as she diced the potatoes for breakfast.
The Missus entered the kitchen, annoyed. “Have you gotten the eggs yet, Mavis? Move! I have to go to the Braxton place to get some medicine for Odell’s dog. You know how Bunny’s been ailing lately. That man’s gonna drive me to an early grave over that damn dog. He thinks the sun rises and sets on that damn mutt.”
“Breakfast will be ready in a bit, Missus. I’m headed right now to the chicken coop. I jus’ put the biscuits in to bake, and the bacon is on a low fire. Big Aunty, give me a hand.”
“Well, hurry, you two. I don’t have all day to be wasting.”
Mavis and Big Aunty grabbed their baskets and hurried to the coop. Just before entering it, Big Aunty stopped and smiled. Mavis stopped in her tracks and eyed Big Aunty.
“Mavis,” she whispered, “I think I have us an answer to your problem.”
“What is it, Big Aunty?” Mavis’s eyes widened in barely contained anticipation.
“What Massa love the most in this world?”
“His liquor and his dog.”
“That’s right. Bunny used to be a good huntin’ dog, one of the best ’round these parts. Even when he lost that hind leg, he was still one of the best. Havin’ three legs didn’t stop him one bit.”
“Now he jus’ follow Massa evawhere he goes. He snuggles at his feet at dinnertime. He sits with him on the veranda. He even sleeps in his bed.”
“Hurry, Mavis. Let’s get these eggs ’fore Missus slaps us. I’ll tell you my plan soon as we get these eggs.”
The women hurried into the coop and gathered the eggs needed for the day. On their way back to the Big House, Big Aunty looked over at Mavis.
“What would truly break Massa’s heart and make him cry like a baby? The death of his most cherished possession—”
“Bunny!” they whispered in unison and giggled.
As they prepared breakfast, Mavis could barely contain her enthusiasm. She hummed and smiled as she scrambled the eggs and tended to the biscuits. Her smile exposed some missing side teeth, but the glow on her face and the twinkle in her eyes were priceless.
All of a sudden, they heard a loud noise and an agonizing screech. Bessie came falling down the stairs outside the Big House. Her body landed at the foot of the stairs with a solid thump. Bessie groaned once and passed out.
Big Aunty hurried outside and examined the young girl, who was bleeding from her nose.
The Missus sauntered down the stairs and stood over Bessie’s body, holding a heavy candlestick.
“Caught Bessie stealing! Found some bread and meat in her apron. Thought that wench’s thick skull could take it better than that. Is my breakfast ready? I have a long ride ahead of me.”
“Yes, Missus. Breakfast is ready.” The Missus didn’t see the smile on Mavis’s face. “I’ll have a nice meal ready for you when you get back from the Braxton place.”
“Get this wench away from me. And put some strawberry preserves on the table with my biscuits. I have a taste for strawberries this morning. Hurry, now.”
“Yes, Missus.”
The Missus handed Big Aunty the candlestick as she headed for the dining area. “Put this in its right place. I swear I don’t know what I’m gonna do with that gal.”
Big Aunty accepted the candlestick and placed it on the table. As she watched the Missus walk out, she shook her head and sighed. She gently revived Bessie, who eventually sat up and began to whimper.
“Shush, Bessie. Listen to me. There are some rules you need to know ’bout when you work in the Big House. I know you new here, but you got to catch on real quick, or your body’s goin’ to pay a heavy price for your mistakes.”
Big Aunty helped Bessie up off the ground and wiped her face with her apron. While Mavis was serving breakfast to Massa Odell and the Missus, Big Aunty sat Bessie down and quickly explained bed making, linen folding, closet cleaning, clothes washing, and how to survive in the Big House.
“You got a lot to learn ’bout workin’ in the Big House. I ’spect it’s somewhat like your house in Yazoo. You got to remember that lots of folks work in and around the Big House. You, me, and Mavis is in charge of the cookin’, washin’, and some cleanin’. Sometimes, when we have company, we all help with the milkin’, but that’s not all the time. We do fetch the eggs every day from the chicken coop. That’s right around that shed, over there.” She pointed in the direction of the chicken coop. “Missus got Lucinda doin’ the polishin’ of iron and silver and cleanin’ the floors upstairs. She and Callie do the milkin’. Callie does the dustin’ and cleanin’ of the floors downstairs at the Big House. Callie also tends to the vegetable garden, not too far from here.” She pointed toward another area of the plantation. “Betsy and Sarah do the ironin’ and hep us with the washin’. We have a lot of washin’ to do ’round here. Missus wants everythin’ all tidy and spruced up, especially when we have visitors.”
Big Aunty was happy to see that Bessie was paying attention. Bessie’s big brown eyes were open wide as she took in the new information. Big Aunty was touched. She had hoped the Lord would have seen fit for her to have a granddaughter as attentive as this Bessie.
“I s’pose where you from is ’bout the same layout as we got here on this here plantation. You know where the corn crib is, the carriage house, the smokehouse?”
“Yes, Big Aunty.”
“You know where the blacksmith is; the milk house?”
“Yes, Big Aunty.”
“You know ’bout our cemetery?”
“No, ma’am.”
“We have the family cemetery over yonder behind the barn. That’s for Massa’s people. Then, we have the slave cemetery over that way, near the woods. It’s for slaves in good standin’ when they die. For the others, we take them into the woods and dig a hole.”
“Same way we did it in Yazoo.”
“Good. Now, we have smaller shacks behind the Big House. Don’t know if you noticed that or not. Things that can’t be done in the Big House—like makin’ soap, candles, syrup, sausage—are done out there.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now, you gonna see Shadrack comin’ in here every now and then. He’s a real dark man, short, with red eyes. Nice as can be. We believe he used to be a witch doctor on another plantation, but we jus’ ain’t too sho’. Shadrack works for Massa as his driver. He mostly work in the carriage house and the stables. When he comes in, he’s mostly lookin’ for coffee. He can have coffee if we have some leftover from breakfast. Shadrack and all the menfolk what work in and close to the Big House is cast-trated.” Mavis thought Bessie might need this information. “You know what that mean, gal?”
“Yes, Miss Mavis. Massa did that to the menfolk back in Yazoo what worked in the Big House. That means they can’t bother anybody with having sex.”
“That also means the menfolk ain’t men no mo’. Bein’ cast-trated means they act mo’ like womenfolk than menfolk. Our butler and our gardener is cast-trated too.” The tone in Big Aunty’s voice made it clear that she was not happy about this situation. “Yep, it takes all the fire out of ’em. We got to sho’ you how the Missus likes her clothes washed. She’s particular ’bout her tablecloths, her napkins, and her bed covers.”
“Yes’m.”
“’Round here, we use the battlin’ block and the battlin’ stick to clean our clothes when we washes. You take the clothes out the suds, soap them real good, and put them on the block and beat them with the battlin’ stick, which is like a paddle.”
