They hesitated a fraction too long, for suddenly Henderson barked a
military command at them.
"Jump to it! I ain't afraid of using the lash!
The slaves groaned inwardly, but shuffled about, trying to look busy.
Clearly there were going to be changes, and none of them for the better.
Mitchell had lingered outside and had heard Henderson use his authority.
He
wasn't too worried about it. All young men were overeager in a new job, and
the slaves could stand a little shaking up.
The arthritis in his leg was troubling him badly, and he limped away to
somewhere warrn and dry. He hoped that Henderson would work out, because
then he could retire. Not for a year or two, of course. But soon.
Henderson knew he was on trial, and knew that if he made a good impression,
one of the plum jobs in the district was his for the taking.
Youngest of five sons of a dirt-poor tobacco sharecropper, Henderson had
been raised to the land and was a good and muscular worker, determined to
better himself in life. He had
402 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
no expectations from his father, a drunkard with whom the boy had been
constantly at war, and he had upped and left six months ago, with a couple
of dollars his mother, old before her time and ailing from a life of
unrelenting hardship, had given him. Living by his wits and his strength,
which he offered for hire wherever he could find work, he had been searching
for a position with potential. He had heard of The Forks of Cypress and its
aging overseer, and that there was no white assistant to succeed to the job.
He did his homework well. He found out all he could about Mitchell,
discovered the man was considered lenient in his treatment of blacks, spent
hours thinking up proper responses to possible questions, and, in speech at
least, tempered his own ruthless, lifelong dislike and distrust of niggers.
His timing and responses were perfect. He presented his most reasonable face
to Mitchell, who liked the boy and decided to give him a chance.
The roof of the weaving house was leaking, too, seeping in through the
cracks, dripping into buckets set out by Easter. She'd complained about it
several times to Mitchell, but nothing ever got done. Mitchell forgot a lot
of things these days.
She sat at the loom trying to weave, but a persistent drip was making the
new cloth damp. It aggravated her, and she was not in a good mood.
Cap'n Jack was sitting on the floor with Queen, holding up some brightly
painted cards that he'd made for her.
It was a game that Queen loved. Cap'n Jack held up a C, and Queen knew
that, it was for Cat, and D was for Dog. But she always had trouble with
the next one-it was a big word.
"Effalump," she tried.
"No, chile, that's 'el-e-phant.' " Cap'n Jack laughed.
"Filling her head with useless nonsense," Easter grumbled, ignored by both
of them.
"What's an elly phan?" Queen asked her gran'pappy. Although she already
knew, she loved the story.
"A elephant is a great big animal, with a long nose that's called a trunk,"
Cap'n Jack told her. "He live in Africa, where yo' mammy and yo' gran'mammy
and me, and all yo' family come from."
"I ain't from Africa, I's from Alabama," Easter grumbled her counterpoint.
MERGING 403
Cap'n Jack ignored her. "Africa is a beautiful country, long, long ways
from here, where everybody free and happy," he told the child.
"Is that where my pappy is?" Queen longed to meet her pappy.
Cap'n Jack didn't look at Easter. Queen's paternity was a bone of
contention between them. Cap'n Jack thought Queen should know who her real
father was, but Easter, ever more practical, forbade it. It would seriously
offend the Jackson family and would be of no advantage to Queen. for even
though everyone knew it was true, it could not be admitted. She had seen
the other slave children taunting Queen about the color of her skin, and
to
claim the Massa as her father would make her the object of even greater
derision. Children of the plantation were simply that, and she wished her
father would forget his silly, and even dangerous, ideas about some
eventual equality of whites and blacks.
Aware of Easter's feelings and, in his more realistic moments, forced to
agree with them, Cap'n Jack still harbored unrealistic dreams for Queen,
much as he had once done for his daughter. He longed to see Queen taken
into the big house, as some Massas did with their half-caste offspring,
even though the paternity was never admitted. These chosen few children had
a better life, Cap'n Jack thought, than those who were relegated to a life
with the field hands, and Capn Jack prayed it would happen to Queen one
day. He hugged her to him.
"No, chile, yo' pappy's a very important man," he whispered in her ear.
"An' if'n yo' learn good an' work hard, one day yo'll live in a fine house
with yo' pappy, an' wear pretty dresses, an' be happy, like a Princess."
Easter was furious with him. "You stop that, Cap'n Jack, yo' hear?" Why
couldn't he understand it would never be, and that Easter didn't want it
to
be? Queen was hers; she made Easter's world whole and complete. She didn't
want to lose her, and didn't want to expose her to the less than tender
mercies of Lizzie. "She a slave chile, and she allus will be! Jus' like
I'll allus be a slave, and yo'll allus be a slave!"
Cap'n Jack ignored her anger. "We gonna be free one day, yo' hear the talk,
the day is comin'," he whispered, as much to Queen as to Easter.
404 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
The edge of Easter's fury had gone. At least they'd changed the subject.
"We won't be here to see it," she said.
Cap'n Jack didn't argue, for there was no point. But in his heart he
believed the day was coming. Every time he heard white folk talking these
days, it was about the Yankees, and the North, and abolition. He remembered
his own years in the North, and what he had seen and learned there, the
good and the bad. He believed that when freedom came, the blacks had to be
ready for it. There was no use in having freedom if they didn't have
learning, if they couldn't better themselves. He dreamed of that better day
for Queen.
Easter was still speaking. "She be better off learnin' weavin', or sewin',
or summat useful."
She glared at the rain dripping in.
"Or fixin' roofs."
Cap'n Jack had been promising to fix the roof since last winter. "I'll git
roun' to it one day," he said.
Easter laughed. "Chile die of newmonya 'fore that day happen."
She busied herself at the loom. Cap'n Jack rocked Queen on his knee. She
was tired, and was drifting to steep. He hummed a gentle lullaby to her,
softly, so that Easter would not hear.
"The day will come, chile," he sang. "The day will come. "
The rain was relentless, and Easter took matters into her own hands. Since
br /> Jass was not there, she knew the person who would help was Sally, but knew
she had to be careful. She was called to the laundry one day, to help iron
sheets that had not dried properly in the rain, and Sally was there, sorting
through the linen with Pattie and Jessica. Sally never acknowledged Easter's
presence in the big house.
Easter began to mumble to herself as she ironed. Slaves often mumbled to
themselves, and a good mistress listened to the mumbling, for much could
be
discovered from it.
" I suppose we could turn these sheets sides to the middle," Sally said to
Pattie, intent on household affairs. "It seems a waste to throw them out."
She left gaps in her comments so that Easter's mumbling might take form and
meaning.
MERGING 405
"But we seem to have enough pillowcases to get us through the winter. "
"Rotten, no-account, leaky house me an' the chile lives in," Sally
deciphered Easter.
"I'm certainly not taking another trip to Charleston until spring," Sally
said in counterpoint.
"Roof's useless, e'vry drop a rain comes in."
"But we do need some towels." Sally was listening intently now.
"Po' Fil Queen could catch her death of cole." So that was it, and of
course, something had to be done, for Queen's sake. Easter could stop
mumbling now, but Sally had to let her know the message had been
received. She turned on Pattie and Jessica.
"I've never known a household to get through towels the way we do," she
said, as if it was the slave maids' fault. "This is good sturdy cotton,
too. You'd think it would last a little longer. "
Pattie and Jessica, who was young and learning the skills of a
chambermaid, started mumbling that it was nothing to do with them, Massa
George was to blame.
Sally spoke to Mitchell, and Mitchell gave the job to Henderson. With a
cautious warning.
Henderson was intrigued. He'd heard of Easter, the Massa's whore, and her
bastard child, had seen them from a distance, but until now had no reason
to go to the weaving house. What he knew of them surprised him. If the
Massa wanted some nigra on the side, that was all right by Henderson,
although he'd never had a taste for black flesh himself-it revolted him,
and he hated to see the high-yella brats they fathered. But this bitch
seemed permanent to the Massa; they had an ongoing connection, and he
could not understand that, especially when the new mistress was such a
gorgeous creature. Henderson would have gladly given his right arm for
a woman like Lizzie.
He took a couple of men to the weaving house, threatened a whipping
unless they did a good job, and went inside.
How could the Massa bear it, how could any white man? This grubby little
shack, and this drably clothed slut. He could smell her from the doorway,
at least in his mind, and it dis-
406 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
gusted him. Not that she was ugly; she was quite a piece of woman, and if
that's the way your fancy went you could do worse. If that's the way your
fancy went. He stared at the child playing on the floor, and his gorge
rose. She'd fool anyone. Could be white, sitting there, staring at him
with those big, round, scared eyes. But she wasn't white. She was a nigra.
The chaos she'll cause when she's grown, he thought. Some unsuspecting
white boy'll do her, and get a bastard, and they'll take over the world
one day, and we'll all end up like them. Lazy, shiftless, and
good-for-nothing. He thought of his own mother, who'd worked so hard all
her life and had nothing, and it infuriated him that this pickaninny and
her mammy could have pretty much what they wanted, all because the mulatta
was good in bed.
The child was scared of him, he could see. And fear, in others of him,
had a powerful effect on this young man who had never had dominion over
anyone except a few no-account darkies.
"It'll be fixed by nightfall," he said to Easter, looking at Queen. "Hope
it'll be to your satisfaction, Miss High and Mighty. "
Easter was unsure of Henderson. "Thank you, Massa," she said.
He turned to her, and knew that she wasn't scared of him, and wanted to
make her fear him, for it was sweet to him.
"And in future, if you've got any complaints, you bring em to me, " he
told her. " Don't go running to the big house. "
Easter said nothing. That angered Henderson even more. He walked close
to her, so that she might sense his power.
"I know your game," he said, "You may be the Massa's fancy woman, but
you're still a slave. And I'm in charge of slaves."
"Massa Mitchell the overseer," Easter said calmly. But she was scared,
just a little bit; Henderson knew that. He could smell fear. He didn't
have to push too hard.
"He wouldn't know what time of day it is." Henderson was not afraid to
be honest with her. "Couple of years, he'll retire, and his job's for me.
Then things'll be different round here."
He didn't want to push too hard, not yet, and might not
MERGING 407
have under different circumstances. She could go running to the Massa and
pour poison in his ear, and if she had enough power, she could even get
him sacked. But the Massa was away for at least a year, and by the time
he came back, Henderson was determined his position would be unassailable.
"And I've got a long memory." He turned his attention to the sniveling
child. "So you keep a civil tongue in your head, and that brat of yours.
Or you'll be sorry."
Queen started to cry. It pleased Henderson, who looked at Easter again,
and then left.
He thought that Easter would be no trouble to him because he could always
scare the child, and the child wouldn't tell. He felt satisfied with his
morning's work, and yelled some abuse at the niggers on the roof.
Easter ran to Queen, picked her up, and hugged her hard. She sat on the
bed with her daughter and hummed a little lullaby.
The world was changing too fast for her. Lizzie, even though absent, was
mistress now, and no one could guess what changes she might introduce on
her return to The Forks, or how she might affect her new husband's
attitudes and behavior.
And Henderson was right. Mitchell must retire soon, and clearly the
slaves could expect a different order when he was gone.
If only Jass were here. Jass would make everything all right.
49
The honeymoon had begun disastrously. Jass and Lizzie had
planned to spend the first night at the Florence Hotel and then
make a leisurely journey to Charleston, but the rain made the
roads impassable, and they were forced to stay at Florence for
four days. It seemed so silly. They should have gone home,
but even the road to The Forks had turned into a quagmire,
408 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
and anyway, Lizzie
showed no particular desire to spend the early days of
her marriage under her mother-in-law's eye.
The first evening had been pleasant enough. They had dined in a private
room, and the staff had done their best to give the dinner some sense of
romantic occasion. Lizzie had retired early, to prepare herself for her
wedding night, and Jass had stayed talking with the proprietor, who was a
close acquaintance, and had drunk several glasses of port.
Jass felt at peace with most of the world as he climbed the stairs and made
his way to their room, but a little part of his brain was worried about
what must happen next with Lizzie. The port had not dulled his concerns.
She was in bed when he came in, wearing a pretty nightdress, with the
blankets pulled up, demurely, under her chin. Jass had chatted about the
weather; then he sat beside her and kissed her gently, and he knew that
Lizzie was scared. What was of more concern to him was that he felt no
sense of anticipation or arousal. She was not unattractive to him, but it
was in a general way, as a pretty friend, lacking that sense of desire and
passion he felt when he was close to Easter. After a while he excused
himself, went into their sitting room, and changed into his nightclothes.
When he came back to the bedroom, Lizzie had turned down the lamps, and
because of the rain there was no moon. Jass felt his way to the bed, lay
down beside Lizzie, and she curled into the crook of his arm and chattered
nervously about their coming year in Europe. Jass understood that she was
trying to delay the inevitable, but it had to happen and he was tired, and
the port was making him drowsy.
He kissed her again, and forced his tongue into her mouth. Lizzie did not
protest, but she did not relax. He fondled her breasts and lay astride, and
she submitted to him, as she had been told to do, and as she knew she must,
but she didn't appear to be enjoying herself in any way.
Jass was lost. His only experience of a woman was with Easter, who yielded
to him readily, willingly, and with a sense of abandon. He wondered what
on
earth he could do to calm the fears of his shivering bride, and what he
might do to excite himself, for her fear was unmanning him.
Lizzie was in a turmoil. She wanted Jass, desperately. She
MERGING 409
wanted to prove to him that she would be a good wife, but the prospect of
the thing that had to happen was terrifying to her. She had no sense of
titillation, for there was an edge of impending violence to his kisses,
and the one honest thing her mother had told her about her first time was
that it would hurt. When he thrust his tongue into her mouth, Lizzie
almost screamed in horror, for she realized that she had no possible route
of escape, and when he lay astride her and she felt, for the first time,
that hard thing pressing on her abdomen, she almost fainted in fear of it.
Now something odd had happened. The hard monster wasn't hard anymore; it
was soft again, and all sense of urgency had deserted Jass. She couldn't
believe it was over-it couldn't be this short, this easy, and there had
been no pain-but some crisis had passed and Lizzie relaxed and started to
enjoy herself.
She loved lying in his arms as he gently caressed her shoulders, and she
allowed her own hands to explore his chest, and his biceps, and his neck,
and she even let her fingers trace their way to his lips, and he kissed
them gently. If it was always going to be like this, then Lizzie wasn't
scared anymore; in fact she quite liked it, and found herself liking it
more and more as the minutes ticked by, and nothing was going to hurt her
now. She felt sensations she had never experienced, of warmth and
security, and she felt a curious tingle somewhere in the pit of her
stomach, and moistness in that place she didn't like to think about.
It changed again, without any evidence that anything had changed. Jass
took her hand and dragged it down to his stomach and put it onto the
monster that was hard and hot. It felt enormous to Lizzie and malevolent,