"Young Massas gotta try all the food on the table afore they decide what
they wants for dinner," he said. "An' mos' times they gwine pick white
meat, not dark."
Any dreams Cap'n Jack once had that Jass might sweep Easter up to the big
house as his true beloved were now forgotten. It wasn't going to happen.
It
was still possible that Jass would want to have Easter one day-for a night,
or a week, or a while-but that would be all, and given the increasing
separation he saw between them, he doubted even that. Nor did he care.
There had been too many wasted years of pain and bitterness in his life,
and now he just wanted everyone to be happy, or as happy as the
circumstances of their lives would pen-nit. That his daughter clearly was
not happy distressed him, but there wasn't much he could do about it.
MERGING 327
Even the sweet dream of freedom for himself and his people that had once
flourished so strongly in his heart now seemed to Cap'n Jack impossible,
and certainly not something he would ever see in his lifetime.
"Don't waste yo' life dreamin' on things yo' cain't ever have," he said,
stroking his daughter's hair.
40
One sultry morning in August, James felt remarkably better. The fever had
left him, his lungs were clear, and the promise of the sweltering day
invigorated him instead of bringing its usual enervation.
He dressed with Cap'n Jack's help, thanked the slave for his loyal
attention, and dismissed him for the day. Cap'n Jack was reluctant to
leave, but James insisted. "Have some time to yourself-, you've seen
enough of me," he said with a smile, "and surely I have seen enough of
you." Cap'n Jack accepted the joke in good part, and went down to the
kitchen, where Julie made him a large plate of sausage, gravy, and grits.
James breakfasted with Sally and Jass in a buoyant mood that thrilled
Sally and cheered Jass. The Trio were staying with friends near
Charleston for a seaside summer, which Jass might have enjoyed, but he
had chosen to study instead. Fewer relations were visiting this year, if
only because the older relations were becoming fewer, or older, and less
inclined to travel, and the younger had other, newer relatives to
nurture. Father and son talked with a lack of reserve that Jass found
unusual but welcome, and joked about Mrs. Perkins's latest extravagance,
a little slave boy, jet black and exotically costumed, whose only duty
in life was to follow Pocahontas wherever she went with a large
ostrich-feather fan,
Breakfast done, Sally and Jass went their separate ways, Sally to spend
the day indoors, sorting out last summer's preserves and bottled fruit
with Parson Dick, for the cellar was
328 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
the coolest room in the house, and Jass to a day of riding and swimming.
James sat at the head of the empty table, and nodded to Parson Dick that
Polly could clear things away.
James seemed lost in thought, and Parson Dick lingered, in case he was not
fully recovered from his illness, or to see if anything was needed.
After a few moments, Parson Dick coughed gently, to let his Massa know he
was still there. James looked at him, as if surprised he was not alone.
"Thank you, Parson Dick," he said. Now Parson Dick was surprised. It was
not a dismissal.
"Sir?" he said.
"Thank you," James said again, and left the room.
Parson Dick was puzzled, convinced that something was amiss. He told
himself it was not his place to interfere and went off to a day of
inventory with Sally.
James went upstairs and changed into his riding clothes. It was so nice to
be alone. Much as he loved Sally, much as he depended on Cap'n Jack, much
as
he needed someone when he was ill, the lack of any moments of solitude
irritated him. He couldn't even fart in private, he told himself, and
dressed in his riding clothes, he went downstairs and out of the house.
"Saddle Glencoe," he told Murdoch.
Murdoch was surprised and reluctant. The horse had only recently arrived,
was still settling in; it was unwise to disturb such a fine specimen. He
presented the list of excuses, and james listened abstractedly. What
Murdoch did not say was that he didn't trust James to ride Glencoe. He
wasn't a good enough rider.
Suddenly James, bored with procrastination, turned on Murdoch.
"I am the Master here!" he roared in what seemed like fury but was actually
only an urgent communication of a desperate need.
Murdoch saw no point in arguing if the man was in such a foul mood. He was
the Master. He paid Murdoch's wages. He'd paid a small fortune for the
horse. He had a right to ride it if he wanted to. He could do anything with
it if he wanted to. He could kill it if he wanted to.
MERGING 329
Any damage done to the horse would only be small and would mend, Murdoch
prayed fervently, saddling Glencoe himself
It felt wonderful to be astride this, his most famous possession. James
trotted Glencoe around the yard, knowing that every man present was
watching him, even Monkey Jack, who had once been one of the greatest
jockeys in America and the first to put Glencoe through his paces. James
was riding him now.
I am the Master, he thought again. This is my horse. He will do as I bid.
He spurred the horse to a canter and headed for the track. Murdoch
watched in aggravation, but kept his silence.
James could feel the gathering power of his mount and urged him to a
gallop. Hard and fast he rode, and it should have been wonderful, but
James felt only an increasing frustration. It was not enough. He had to
know more. He had to know what it was like to take the animal to its
fullest potential. He had to know what it felt like to be true master of
the most famous horse in the world.
He saw the low fence ahead that separated the track from the drive, and
he remembered Jass taking that fence every day on his return from school.
He told himself that if his son could do it, he could do it.
He headed straight for the fence. Murdoch closed his eyes. Monkey Jack
watched in silence, not sure if he wanted his Massa to fail, which might
hurt the horse, or succeed, because then he might not stop and the horse
might be hurt more.
James and Glencoe cleared the fence easily, exquisitely, elegantly, the
horse landing surefooted on the other side.
They had momentum now. Their blood was up, and they could not stop there,
nor did either of them, man or beast, have any desire to do so.
Murdoch was furious. "Tell Missy Sally," he ordered Ephraim. "And Cap'n
Jack."
Ephraim took off running for the big house. Murdoch went to saddle
another horse, to go looking for his endangered charge.
Sally, in the cellar with Parson Dick, had no idea of the commotion at
the stables.
330 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
Pattie, changing sheets in Jass's room, glanced out of the window and saw
them, and was surprised, for she knew the ol' Massa was only up from his
sickbed today.
"Wouldn't let my pappy do it," she said to no one, and went about her
duties.
James knew it was wrong, knew he was breaking every rule in regard to the
treatment of his precious horses-he'd written most of them himself-and
he didn't care; it only added to the rollicking joy he felt. Free from
the constraints of caution and prudence, they were racing now not against
any mortal competitor but against the relentless passage of time. The
weight of responsibility had fallen from James's shoulders and taken
years from him, so that he felt like a boy again, errant and naughty and
young,
"I can do anything," he called to no one as they galloped down the lane,
and knew there was one more thing he needed. Before, he had simply wanted
to do something wild, something that would give him a joy in living
again, but now he had a purpose.
He slowed the horse to a canter, looked about, then directed the horse
off the lane and into the fields of the plantation.
It was not a fence, although it fenced in a large paddock that was being
allowed to lie fallow; it was a hedgerow, unattended over the years, and
now rambling and unruly and more than a tall man high.
James kept his distance from it, looking at it, considering it, and
Glencoe snorted and stamped and pawed the ground, as if in anticipation
of some real adventure.
James knew the jump was too high, and he didn't care. He knew he could
harm the animal, and he didn't care. He knew he could hurt, or even kill,
himself, and he didn't care, for he was not of this time and place. He
was on an Olympian plain with only this Promethean creature and a
formidable challenge, and the bridge between the horse and the challenge
was himself.
" We can do it," he said to the horse, knowing the horse already knew,
sweating, steaming, nostrils flaring, urgently restless, as if after a
lifetime of controlled and perfect discipline this moment of triumphant
freedom was unbearably precious to him.
MERGING 331
"I can do it," said James. He kicked the horse on. The sound of thunder
rang in his ears, as the horse pounded to the challenge.
"I can do it!" James cried as the horse left the ground and soared over
the fence. Flying now, flying on a great streak of lightning, riding now,
riding on any rainbow and arching to the ground.
"I can do anything!" James yelled at heaven, as the horse landed
flawlessly on the other side.
They looked a dejected pair as they walked up the great drive home, but
it was only exhaustion. They were partners, James and Glencoe, in a
conspiracy of freedom. Stable hands came running to them to take charge,
but James stayed mounted and walked the animal up the little hill to the
house.
They were all there, as he knew they would be, Sally and Cap'n Jack, the
house slaves and Parson Dick. Even Mitchell the overseer. What did he
have to do with it all? And Murdoch, who had lost the trail and had
returned here.
"Time to face the music," he whispered to Glencoe as he slid to the
ground and allowed Ephraim to lead the animal away.
He was tired, he wanted to go to bed, and he wondered why there had to
be a fuss. Murdoch spoke first, as was proper.
"That was very wrong, sir," he said. "Happily the animal is not hanned,
but I could not continue to serve you if it happened again."
James took the lecture in good part. "It's all fight, Murdoch. It was
very wrong, and it will not happen again," he promised. "I am sorry.
Perhaps you should see to Glencoe."
Murdoch accepted the apology, but with bad grace, and stomped away. James
determined to go to him later and try to make him understand, but he
couldn't do it now, he was so very, very tired.
Sally started to speak, but James interrupted her, because suddenly
something of desperate urgency needed to be done.
"Fetch my son," he said.
He fell to the ground. Sally cried out and ran to him, but Cap'n Jack got
to him first, gathered him up in his arms, and took him into the house.
332 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
Sally led them into the sitting room, and Cap'n Jack laid his Massa on
a sofa, loosened his collar, and told Parson Dick, who had followed them,
to bring water.
James was ashen gray, his breathing shaflow. Sally was terrified, for she
had seen death often enough to know the shadow was passing over her
husband. "Send someone for Hargreaves," she ordered Cap'n Jack, praying
that help might arrive in time. Mitchell, hovering in the doorway, unsure
of his place, hurried away to fetch the doctor.
Cap'n Jack felt James clutching at his hand. "Jass," James whispered.
"Get Jass."
Sally nodded to Cap'n Jack, but James would not let go of his hand, for
perhaps Jass would not come in time. He had to make them see, he had to
make them understand, there was something Jass had to know, and it
mattered to him more than anything in all the world, even more, at that
moment, than his life.
"Jass," he said again. "Tell him-"
He couldn't finish. Why was it so hard to say? It was so simple, he'd
known it for years. Why was it so difficult for him now?
"There is God," he gasped, but Sally stroked his brow.
"Hush, my dear," she said. "We all believe in God. Rest--
"No! " James managed to cry, for that wasn't it. "There is God--
How could he make them understand? He saw Cap'n Jack's hand clasped in
his own, the black on white, and thought that might be a way. There was
so little time. He held the slave's hand close to his wife's face.
"There is God," he managed to whisper, and fell back against the
headrest. Cap'n Jack leaned in close. James whispered something more.
Cap'n Jack thought he heard the word "everyone," but wasn't sure. He
leaned closer again.
James was smiling at him. The smile never left his face, but Cap'n Jack
knew that his soul had left his body. He was there and then he was not
there, and Cap'n Jack would never be able to pinpoint the moment of
departure with any accuracy.
He looked at Sally, and told her what she already knew.
"He gone, Missus," he said.
MERGING 333
Sally closed her eyes. She wanted to grab hold of her husband and drag
him back from wherever it was that he had gone, but she knew he wouldn't
come. She wanted to cry out, to make him hear ~er, wherever he was, and
come back to her from that awful place, but she knew he would not hear
her.
She didn't cry out; she whispered an order to the slave instead:
"Fetch the Master."
41
lass swam easily in the flowing stre
am. Although it had been a warm
summer, the creek water was still cool and refreshing, caressing his naked
body as ice calms a bum, the gentle pressure of the current soothing his
muscles, tense from a hard ride on Morgan.
The unspeakable happened, not from any immediate sexual need but the
continuous pressure of the surrounding element. Jass was aware of it and
indulged the sensation, swimming harder now, and recognizing the need
that was being signaled that had to be filled.
For Jass was determined to lose his virginity before he went to college,
which left him a year to achieve his ambition. All his classmates had
told him, truthfully or otherwise, that they had taken the final step
into the world of manhood, and laughed at Jass for his lack of
initiative. Then he had received a vibrant letter from Wesley in Texas.
The western adventure had proved to be everything that Wesley had wanted.
He had joined Sam Houston's army, had fought in battles for the new
republic, and was living the life of a young man's dreams. Following the
model of his hero, Houston, he had abandoned European comforts and had
taken two Comanche women in polygamous marriage. He had been made blood
brother into their tribe, was learning the skills of a warrior, and had
even scalped a man, a Mexican, in some small skirmish. But reading
334 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
between the lines, Jass could tell that Wesley had no sense of permanent
obligation to either woman but would abandon them if he was bored, or if
some new horizon beckoned. Home was the prairie, their house a teepee, and
he sang the glory of wild Texas. He had adopted the Lone Star Republic as
his new country, and almost seemed to regret the political bartering that
would eventually incorporate his new nation into his old. Now it is a
challenge to any true man, he wrote. If it becomes part of the United
States, those petty fellows from Washington will turn it into something
as dull as the rest of the world.
The letter made Jass envious. Compared to the swashbuckling Wesley, he
felt himself to be a callow, inexperienced boy who had not yet even been
brave enough to take a woman, while Wesley had already savored all the
delights that virile masculinity had to offer. He stopped swimming,
climbed onto a flat rock, and stretched out to bask in the warmth of the
sun and consider the possibilities.
Lizzie was not any part of the solution. He liked Lizzie very much, he
wanted her in his life, and what he felt for her was something he wanted
in his life, too. He didn't think it was love-he still didn't know what
love was, or thought he didn't-but it was something positive, and he
imagined that he and Lizzie would always be friends. He didn't have a lot
of carnal thoughts about Lizzie, a few but not many, and when he did it
was only to get his own back on her for a silly tiff they'd had, or
because she would sometimes edge her way into his nocturnal dreams and
there were few other white women he wanted to dream about.
Lizzie was a white woman of a certain class, a possible, potential bride,
and, Jass imagined, a virgin, and he would no more have attempted to
seduce any such woman than fly to the moon.
He had heard stories of a few white women of easy virtue who lived in
Decatur, but they expected payment for their services, and Jass didn't
want his first experience to be with someone like that.
This narrowed the field to nigras, which expanded the potential
co-celebrants of his initiation to a remarkable number. Almost any black
woman he chose to have was available to
MERGING 335
him, any of his own slave women, any of his friends' slave women, or any
slave women owned by strangers. In the two latter cases, the actual owner
might cause a fuss, but if he asked that owner first, it was probable the
permission would be granted. As to his own slaves, his power over them was
such that he had only to snap his fingers and they had no choice but to
lie down and open their legs to him. They could holler and protest for all
they were worth, and it would do no good. He was their Massa, and as such