Queen

Doublehead was sitting in a tavern with his son.

  "It is a good day to die," Doublehead told Jimmy. And sent his son away

  from him.

  Three men came in, Chief Ridge, a half-breed, Alex Saunders, and a white

  trader named Rogers. Doublehead stared at Rogers in contempt.

  "You are not of our people," Doublehead said to the white man. "You live

  among us by our permission. I have never seen you in council or on the

  warpath. Go away, and do not bother me."

  Rogers laughed.

  Believing that his end was near, and perhaps wanting to hasten it,

  Doublehead struck the white trader. A fight devel-

  84 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  oped, and others came to Doublehead's assistance, and shots were fired.

  The assailants fled into the night, but Doublehead's jaw was shattered by

  a bullet. A friend helped Doublehead down the street to seek help, but the

  assailants came out of hiding and attacked again. Doublehead fought like

  a panther, but was killed by a tomahawk blow to his skull.

  In fear of his own life, Jimmy came to James, thinking he would be safe

  with a white man, and poured out his grief. James comforted him, and told

  him that if there was ever anything he could do for Jimmy and his family,

  in honor of the chief, he had only to ask.

  The merchant James Jackson, who had been kind to the Indian people, was

  one of the few white men allowed to attend the funeral of the once great

  chief, who was buried according to the tribal ways.

  James was fascinated by the intricate, exotic ceremonies, and found

  himself wondering about the relationship between man and the spirit

  world. These people did not believe in his God, but they believed in some

  powerful metaphysical force that caused awe in James. He thought that

  Chief Doublehead's personal dilemma exemplified the tragedy of all his

  people, of all the tribes. In order to live in peace with the white men,

  they had to surrender to them, because they could not win against them

  in war. Their land, pristine, primeval, was too valuable to be left to

  their stewardship, for it was unproductive. The march of progress could

  not be stopped, yet, surely, in this vast country, there was land enough

  for all? James approved of the concept behind the treaties, whereby the

  Indians gave land for white settlement in return for the right to live

  in peace on what was left, and he cursed those whites who coveted what

  the Indians still had. When he saw the wonderful, empty landscapes on

  which the Creek and Cherokee and Chickasaw still roamed, he envied them

  their freedom, and thought it was a sweet and simple life to live as they

  did, taking from the land only what could be replenished, living from the

  land that gave to them in abundance.

  At the same time, in his darker moments, he knew how much money he could

  make if he could persuade them to part with some few acres of it. He

  cherished the idea that perhaps he could wrest a private treaty from

  Chief Doublehead, as

  BLOODLINES 85

  others had done, and make that land available to settlers on a legal

  basis, and be rich beyond imagining.

  When wealth did come to James, it was indeed from land, but not quite as

  he expected. Successful as James and Washington were in all their

  endeavors, the real money came to them when Thomas Jefferson, the

  president, put an embargo on all shipping from United States ports.,

  "Tom's gone mad!" Andrew cried, and railed and fumed, and swore it would

  bankrupt the country, which it very nearly did. James only vaguely

  understood why Jefferson had taken this action, but thrilled to be

  friends with a man who called the president Tom.

  As James understood it, Britain, at war with France, had put an embargo

  on American ships sailing to European ports, and Napoleon retaliated by

  putting an embargo on American ships sailing to British ports. Jefferson

  put an embargo on all American shipping, to try to bring the two warring

  factions to reason with regard to neutral American commerce.

  "Cutting off his nose to sprite his face," Andrew cried again, stomping

  on the floor in rage.

  The effect of the embargo was catastrophic. Some smart companies and

  ship's captains found their way around it by using ports in the

  Caribbean, but few goods came into America, and fewer left. The dormant

  secession movement in New England woke up sharply, because theirs were

  the ports most harshly affected, but Southern cotton growers, and those

  around Nashville, suffered as well. They could not get their cotton to

  British markets.

  The farmers lived in hope that the embargo would be repealed, and tried

  to continue to pay their debts. Cash money was scarce and promissory

  notes abounded.

  " Danmed paper!" Andrew cried again. "It will be the ruin of us. Hard

  currency is the only honorable money!"

  James and Washington obliged their customers to the limit of their

  financial ability, which was now considerable. When all else failed, they

  accepted land in payment of debts, and by the time the embargo was lifted

  they owned over fifty thousand acres. With the resumption of trade, the

  price of land rocketed to the sky. James and Washington sold half of what

  86 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  they owned at formidable profit, and bought yet more.

  Washington was drawn more and more to the South, to Natchez. He loved the

  lazy, unhurried river life, and bought some barges to carry cargo between

  Natchez and New Orleans.

  James's passion became a farm he had accumulated outside Nashville. It

  was the first estate he had ever owned, and he enjoyed the role of

  country squire. He gave soirees and picnics, and entertained the notables

  of the town. A frequent visitor to Andrew's house, he became involved in

  the politics of the South, and of the frontier, and met several of the

  rising young politicians of the day, Henry Clay and his son Henry junior

  from Kentucky, John McKinley from Tennessee, and John Coffee, a military

  man, and Andrew's aide. John Coffee and Andrew owned the Cloverbottorn

  Horse Race Track, and James and Andrew, the two Jacksons as they were

  called, were always to be seen at the meetings. Both men loved the sport,

  and Andrew owned several blooded horses.

  "You will never amount to anything."

  His father's last words to him were the fuel to the engine of James's

  ambition, and yet he could never convince himself that he had achieved

  enough to prove his father wrong.

  . Thus James became one of the landholding gentry, though still in trade,

  the owner of a small cotton plantation, a cotton gin, a successful

  business, a breeder of racehorses, and Massa to more than forty slaves.

  He had never attended a slave auction, nor had he ever sent one of his

  slaves to the block.

  Family gathered to him as rapidly as money. After his sister Martha died,

  Eleanor came from Ireland with her second husband, Thomas Kirkman, and
r />   their children, Mary Letitia, James, and little Tom, together with

  Martha's two girls, Mary and Anna. Thomas had an astute mind for

  commerce, and James put him in charge of the store. Sara and Jimmy came

  with their four children, Mary Ann, Jane, Robert, and Ellen. James

  employed Jimmy in his land office. Shortly after arriving in Nashville,

  Sara gave birth to a girl, who was called Letitia, in honor of Hugh's

  wife, in Baltimore.

  Surrounded by loving family, rich and successful, still young enough and

  handsome enough, James had almost all his heart desired, except two

  things. He had no shadow, no personal manservant, as Andrew had Alfred,

  and he had never found a woman to love.

  BLOODLINES 87

  The first was easy. He discussed his need with Andrew, and Andrew sent

  Alfred looking. It took a year, but finally Alfred found a winner.

  Cap'n Jack was in his early twenties when he came to James. His previous

  Massa, in Virginia, had seen the potential in him, and had taken the

  youthful slave, Jack, into the house, and trained him as a manservant. He

  also taught Cap'n Jack to read and write, which was unusual among slaves,

  and forbidden in some states. Cap'n Jack took full advantage of the ben-

  efits that had come to him, worked hard and well, and made himself

  indispensable to his Massa, who was old and infirm. He had a habit of

  calling everyone "Cap'n" because he could not bear to use the word

  "Massa," which accentuated his slave status, and eventually became known

  as Cap'n Jack himself. Andrew Jackson was a frequent visitor to the

  estate, on his many trips to Washington on government business, and Alfred

  and Cap'n Jack became friends. When Cap'n Jack's Massa became mortally

  ill, Alfred suggested to Andrew that he buy Cap'n Jack on James's behalf.

  Despite the fact that this almost certainly saved Cap'n Jack from the

  auction block, he seethed with resentment about this change in his

  ownership. He wanted to stay and nurse his old Massa. He didn't want to

  be uprooted from the only home he had known, in pleasant Virginia, and

  be carted off to the frontier to a man he didn't know. Besides, he

  cherished the hope that his Massa would free him in his will. This was

  not to be. Although the old man was fond of Cap'n Jack, he did not

  believe in the practice of freeing niggers, no matter how loyal they had

  been.

  "It the block, or the backblocks," Alfred told him with a wheezy chuckle.

  Cap'n Jack was forced to admit that his dream of freedom had been false,

  and having no alternative, he accompanied Alfred and Andrew to his new

  Massa, but went with bad grace,

  For the first few weeks it was a disaster. Cap'n Jack did as he was told

  by James, but with ill humor, and never extended himself. To reinforce

  his bitterness at his status, Cap'n Jack stopped calling white men

  "Cap'n," and called James "Massa," with scarcely concealed contempt. It

  made James

  88 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  angry. He had paid a thousand dollars for Cap'n Jack, and hoped for a

  servant as loyal and obliging and inventive as Alfred was to Andrew, not

  this surly, if competent, man, who never questioned anything, and never

  took any initiative.

  He lost his temper with Cap'n Jack, and threatened to sell him, but Cap'n

  Jack only shrugged.

  "If'n that make you happy, Massa," he said. "To buy an' sell niggers."

  That made James angrier, because Cap'n Jack had touched his conscience.

  James was still ambivalent in his attitude to slavery. He had acquired

  slaves because it was the done thing, because it was expected of him, and

  because only slaves performed certain jobs. It was also true that he

  enjoyed the status that having so many slaves gave him. He believed

  himself to be a benevolent Massa, he never went to an auction or sold

  slaves away, and, for the most part, he treated his slaves well. His

  lenience had declined over time. He allowed his foreman on the plantation

  to use the lash mildly, or some of the children to be chastised with the

  switch, but he persuaded himself that his slaves were better looked after

  than any in the district. Ephraim, and Tiara and Micah's boys were almost

  like sons to him.

  He lived in the South and slavery was the way of the South. He had not

  made his fortune on their sweat and labor, but by his own sharp brain and

  endeavors. He thought his slaves responded well to his treatment of them.

  They seemed loyal, and obedient, and none had ever run away. There were

  some dissenters, a couple of troublesome young men on the plantation, but

  James put this down to intemperate youth, and a few stinging lashes from

  the foreman's whip soon brought them to heel.

  Still, the practice troubled him, although less and less as the numbers

  of those he owned grew larger, and he knew them less well, and was less

  involved in their lives. He calmed his conscience by telling himself that

  slavery was best for these people, who were illiterate and not able to

  survive in the white man's world, but most of the time he tried to avoid

  thinking about slavery, or freedom, as an issue.

  Cap'n Jack was the living proof that he had compromised some of his

  ideals, and that made him angry. He discussed the problem with

  Washington, when his brother passed through

  BLOODLINES 89

  Nashville on his way home to Ireland, for a visit to the old country.

  Washington had no problem with slavery. He owned a number of slaves in

  Natchez, who operated his fleet of barges between that city and New

  Orleans. A natural leader of men, a natural authority figure, but with

  chann and good humor, Washington kept his slaves well disciplined, but

  although he tolerated harsh punishment, he enjoyed finding less extreme

  ways of solving problems.

  "Don't get mad," he told James with a laugh. "Get Irish."

  James got Irish. He called Cap'n Jack to his study one night, ordered him

  to sit, and produced a bottle of good whiskey. He poured drinks for both

  of them, and asked Cap'n Jack to explain his problem.

  Cap'n Jack couldn't believe this was happening.. Slaves were discouraged

  from drinking liquor-often it was forbidden to them-and no one, not even

  his first, much-loved Massa, had ever asked him what he felt. What he

  thought, yes, but never what he felt.

  Sullen at first, he sipped on the whiskey, and felt the fire race through

  him. He didn't know how to say all the things that raged in his heart,

  but the liquor released his tongue.

  "I ain't free," he blurted out.

  "No, you're not," James agreed calmly. "You're my slave. "

  "An' what gives you the fight to own me?" Cap'n Jack retorted. He was

  astonished at himself. Such audacity would surely get him flogged

  tomorrow, but it was done now. In for a penny, in for a pound. He was

  going to be punished anyway; he might as well make the most of his crime.

  "I don't know," James replied, hon
estly. "But it is the way of it."

  "Then the way is wrong," Cap'n Jack insisted. He gulped on his whiskey

  again, and suddenly all the distress and bitterness he had accumulated

  over the years came pouring out of him.

  He was treated as an animal, or livestock, but he was not an animal; he

  could read and write, he could think, and he could feel.

  90 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  "I think, therefore I am," James agreed. He poured more whiskey, and

  asked if Cap'n Jack's previous Massa had not treated him well.

  "He was good to me," Cap'n Jack was forced to admit. "Like his pet dog,

  or his best stallion. But he never treated me human."

  "I try to do that," James said. "But you resent me."

  "Course I do," Cap'n Jack said. "Coz I ain't free. All yo' niggers resent

  you. Coz you got the power over them."

  It had never occurred to James, nor did he believe it. His people loved

  him. Even the troublesome few on the plantation were angry because of

  their work and their lowly conditions, he had thought, but not at him.

  He was sure, not at him. But he would investigate what Cap'n Jack told

  him.

  Cap'n Jack fought for words to make him understand, but what words were

  there? What words could explain to someone who was free, and whose

  freedom was never in doubt, how precious freedom was? How could he

  explain what it felt like to be bom in bondage, and know you would never

  be free of it?

  Never be free to choose your own name, and your own life. Never be free

  to make decisions for yourself-, never be free to travel where vou

  wanted, to do what you wanted. Never be free of being sold. Never be free

  of the fear that your wife might be sold away from you, and your

  children. Never be free to create something of your own, to farm some

  small few acres, and give it to your son, saying I made this, yo' pappy

  made this. Never free to fight for yourself and yours, never free of the

  fear of unfair punishment, never free from the potential pain of the

  lash.

  Never free to be a man.

  "It don't matter if'n you don't never whump us," he said. "It is enough

  that you have the power to do it."

  His mind exploded at the simple unfairness of it, the Linbelievable

  injustice that had been done to him and his people, all because they were

  black. He fought back tears.

  "You think we's proud to be slaves?" Cap'n Jack asked him, his anger

  nearly spent, and other emotions unsettling him.

  James listened to the litany of grief, the sad song in praise

  BLOODLINES 91

  of freedom, and thought of Fortan, the black sailmaker in Philadelphia,

  who made over a hundred thousand dollars a year, and could look on his

  life with pride.

  He thought of his peasant friends in Ireland, who toiled all their lives

  for some other man's benefit, and were prepared to die for a chance of

  freedom.

  He thought of Sean, effectively slave to soil he did not own, and who did

  lay down his life to be free, and went triumphantly to his grave.

  He remembered the shame he felt on the day he bought Ephraim, and did not

  even think of the boy's enforced separation from his family. He felt

  ashamed now, and when he saw that there were tears in his new slave's

  eyes, he was distressed.

  "What can I do?" James asked.

  "Make me free," Cap'n lack said.

  "Why should I do that?" James wondered. "I have paid a great deal of

  money for you, and you have given me no indication that you deserve your

  freedom."

  "Did you earn yours?" Cap'n Jack responded. "Or was you bom to it?"

  He had gone too far, he was sure. He'd be sent to the block tomorrow,

  after a hundred lashes at least, but it was almost worth it.

  "Yes, I was," James agreed. "You were not, for that is not the way of it

  here. But you could earn it."

  Cap'n Jack brushed away the tear from his eye, and looked at him. Was

  this the bait they always dangled? His ol' Massa had said it to him so

  often.

  "Work hard for me, Jack, and you could be free."