great mansion, and The Sinks was not Becky's idea of the house that
suited the woman she had once been. She loved Jass, but he did not
provide her with enough slaves to regain her foothold in society. She
loved her grandson, young William, who had been named in honor of her
late husband, but he was not the William she wanted. She loved her other
grandchildren; the little ones were just gorgeous and she wanted to run
and tell her William all about them, but he was never there. She wished
they wouldn't bring that half-caste girl with them all the time. She
reminded Becky of things she would rather forget, but young William was
very fond of her and it was proper that he have a personal slave,
although it was high time the girl moved out of his room. If only she
weren't so very white. Queen, as the mostly white nigra slave child of
her son-in-law, perplexed Becky. Indeed, the whole issue of black and
white, slave and free, was confusing to her, as was much of the rest of
the modem world, and she no longer collected gossip or trivia or scandal,
because without William she had no one to tell it to, and without darkies
she could not go visiting. Everything she had ever been was what people
perceived her to be, and she could not bear to be thought of as a lonely
widow, eking out a solitary existence on someone else's charity.
438 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
She greeted them now, pleased to see them but frantically worried about
events in the world, and filled with questions. The few visitors who still
came to see her-Sally, and the minister's wife, and some others who,
distressed by her present circumstances, had forgiven her past
affectations-had kept her informed of the developing crisis between North
and South, and Becky was agog to know the outcome of the presidential
election. Jass had little positive news for her. The results had not reached
them yet, which was why he was going into town, but the general feeling was
that Abraham Lincoln would win on a platform dedicated to limiting the
extension and expansion of the slaveholding states, and that if he did,
South Carolina would almost certainly secede from the Union. It had
threatened it before, effectively done it before, thirty years ago, and over
the last couple of years the Southern dealings with Washington had been
increasingly, dangerously, fractious.
Becky said nothing, but held Little Sally to her, and tears dribbled from
her eyes. Any fool could tell that this Lincoln was an abolitionist at
heart, however cunningly disguised. The slaves believed it, they talked of
nothing else, and Becky trusted their gossip. Thus a Republican victory
would put an abolitionist in the White House, with inconceivable conse-
quences for the South, but it hardly seemed to bother her family. They took
tea, and chatted about inconsequential things, without seeming to
understand that they were standing on the very brink of a precipice. When
they said their good-byes, Becky begged Jass to send news of the election
as soon as he knew the outcome, and he promised that he would.
Jass kept his word, but tardily. He did not send old Ephraim to tell Becky
the result until the next day, and by then it was too late.
Nathan, one of Jass's slaves who attended Becky, heard the news from
Joshua, the gardener, who heard it from some men who had been rafting
downriver. Nathan told Mary, the cook, who told Becky.
"Massa Linkun Presyden'," she said.
Becky said nothing, but puzzled as always about the phenomenon that was the
slave grapevine. How had news of his
QUEEN 439
victory, for Becky had no doubt that it was true, reached them before it
reached her? Unable to read or write, or at least forbidden to, what could
they know of Abraham Lincoln, how did they have news of him, and how had
he become their hero? Becky didn't know very much about him herself, but
what she did know frightened her.
"Us gwine be free," Mary said, as a statement of fact, without any
excitement or rancor.
Becky finished her supper in silence, and went to her room. She spent a
long time preparing for bed, tying her hair in cotton curlers and putting
on her best nightgown. She tried to avoid thinking about the future,
although the future as envisioned by Mary kept impinging on her mind.
She was troubled by the nightmare of John Brown. Denmark Vesey had been
one thing, and Nat Turner anotherthey were nigras-but a white man freeing
slaves! Killing white folk! Becky could not imagine what the world was
coming to. Or rather, she could, for she knew that the election of
Lincoln almost certainly presaged a war between the statesno one had
talked about anything else for weeks-and while she believed passionately
that the dear Southern boys would fight to the very last drop of their
blood, and would whip those Yankee cuts in a matter of weeks, she dreaded
the possibility of their failure. If the South lost, the ramifications
were too appalling to consider, for how could they live without slaves?
What would happen to her, and to Lizzie, and to all of Lizzie's dear
children, who would never know the fabulous society that was their
birthright? She had an awful vision of Lizzie trying to run The Forks of
Cypress without any slaves, and the very idea of it made her weep in
horror.
Free nigras! It wasn't fair to them, they were children, the house ones,
who needed a finn, guiding white hand. And the field hands, the bucks,
would be running around raping and pillaging at will; no woman would be
safe in her bed. It was all very well for the Yankees to claim the blacks
were equal, but they were not, any fool knew that, the Bible said so, and
in any case, there were not so many blacks in the North for the Yankees
to be scared of. Thinking about a violent, impovefished South gave her
a sick headache, and she climbed into bed, determined not to leave that
bed until she felt better. She
440 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
picked up her Bible and it fell open at Revelation. It was an omen to Becky.
The last days were upon them.
Rather than contemplate the abysmal future or think of her impoverished
present, she let her mind frolic through the groves of her favorite realm,
the past. She dreamed that her retinue attended her still, as they did in
her glory days, when she was young, when the world was her oyster and she
its most precious pearl, and when William was there, to shield her and
provide for her and protect her.
She called out his name, and a miracle happened! A man came in the door,
although it was locked, she was sure-she always locked it in case the
darkies should forget themselves and come bursting in to ravish her, or
some white abolitionists to murder her. For a moment she was convinced it
was an avenging John Brown, come to destroy her, sword in one hand, Bible
in the other, and her heart skipped a beat. And another. And another. And
as her
heart went haywire, she realized it was William; she could see him
clearly, and the door was open, and there was light in the hallway beyond.
He stood by the bed and smiled at her, and she felt a flooding sense of
relief. He had come back to her, as she had always known he would, and now
she could pour out her heart to him, and tell him of her many problems, and
he would make it all fight again, and she could hold her head up high.
Now was not the time to talk, she knew that. He held out his hand to her,
and to her surprise, her sick headache had completely disappeared. She felt
better than she had done for years. She knew he wanted to take her to show
her the lovely new mansion he had been building for her, so she took his
hand. He helped her out of bed, and they walked together toward the door,
toward the light, which was getting stronger and stronger and held no fears
for her, even though she was improperly dressed for daylight, and her hair
was a mess.
But this was a welcoming light which told her that nothing mattered
anymore. She knew with absolute conviction that when she walked with
William into that dazzling light, she would, at last, be happy.
52
4====~
Wth defiant shouts of bravado, the South had lived in expectation of the
possibility of the election of a Republican president for months, It would
surely lead to secession by at least some of the states, and no one could
chart those unpredictable, stormy waters. Jass had tried to shield his
wife and children from the rumors and the passions kindled, but today was
a momentous day, perhaps a historic one, and he felt they should have some
understanding of the forces at work, for their lives might never be the
same again.
They said their farewells to Becky at The Sinks, and headed for Florence.
William and Mary were chattering excitedly, in a party mood, for visits
to town were rare, and even Queen, usually so shy in front of Lizzie, was
joining in the fun. Until Lizzie reminded her of her manners. Queen fell
silent then, her eyes down, fiddling with her handkerchief. Jass forgave
Lizzie in his mind, as he always did, for he knew she was on edge about
the day, and worried about her unborn child. He rode beside the carriage
and talked happily to the children, and occasionally to Queen, who looked
up at him with adoring, grateful eyes.
As they neared Florence, Jass began to regret his decision, for half the
county seemed to have had the same idea. Carriages packed with
countryfolk were descending on the town from all directions, and rough
men on horseback calling and hallooing to each other as if in boisterous
anticipation of a wild party. Yet this is what it is, thought Jass, and
I cannot shield them from the experience forever.
Isaac guided the horses carefully through the packed streets, and brought
the carriage to a halt outside the bank, where Jass was to meet Tom
Kirkman. The greatest crowd was gathered around the telegraph office, but
throughout the town the fes-
441
442 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
tive, volatile air prevailed. People were milling around, aimlessly,
excitedly, waiting for the news that might change their lives. Young men
roamed the streets publicly announcing the glory of an independent South
and the fate of the Yankees if Lincoln won, while older men on the
hustings urged those same young men to join militia units, in preparation
for the coming Armageddon, and other, more sober souls bewailed the
catastrophe of secession, and the glory of the Union.
Queen found it all very ftightening, and Lizzie was appalled. She hadn't
wanted to come, certainly hadn't wanted to bring the little ones, but
Jass had business to do, and she hadn't wanted to stay alone at The Forks
without his protection, on this day of days. She refused to leave the
carriage, and resisted her older children's pleas to be allowed to walk
for a while, until Jass interceded on their behalf.
Mary looked at the paramilitary activity in wonder and a little fear.
"is there going to be a war, Papa?" she asked her father.
"Of course not!" Jass was reassuring. "Why would Americans want to fight
Americans?"
No one had an answer for that. Except Queen.
"Perhaps because of slavery," Queen said, and made Lizzie angry.
"Hush, girl," Lizzie snapped. "Speak when you're spoken to. "
Queen looked down, and William jumped in. "It looks like war," he said.
"It's all a lot of fuss and bother about nothing," Jass told them, with
more conviction than he felt. Nor did he tell them why he was going to
the bank. "Don't you worry your little heads about it."
He gave them a little money and told them they could look in the shops
for half an hour, but they must be careful, must never lose sight of
Isaac and the carriage, and should not, under any circumstances, speak
to strange men.
"Oh, Papa," William groaned. "Everyone knows us here."
"Times have changed, and there are a lot of strange men in town." Lizzie
told him. "Queen, you may keep them company and look after them."
They set off in high spirits, the three of them, William,
QUEEN 443
Mary, and Queen, and excitedly nervous. Jass watched them for a moment,
reassured Lizzie as to their welfare, and went into the bank. Lizzie
stayed in the carriage with Poppy and the babies, and told Isaac to keep
his whip ready.
It was the best fun. Queen was a pretty girl, and even the roughest boys
made way for her as they passed by. Some whistled, which made William
giggle. They stopped to listen to a very loud man on a soapbox, exhorting
the brave to join his militia unit. He wore an old uniform that had seen
action against the Indians in the West, and he was attended by a couple
of younger men, in newer versions of the same uniform.
They didn't really understand what he was shouting-it all seemed to be
about blood and death and honor-and Queen thought the uniforms were ugly,
but it aroused the older people listening, and they cheered and clapped
everything he said.
It was a chilly afternoon, and they were quickly bored, and moved away
to find other amusements. Farther down the street, a minister was on
another soapbox, proclaiming the glory of the indissoluble Union that was
the United States, but only a small group was listening to him, a few
cheering, most booing, and a fight broke out between some young men and
one of the minister's supporters. Queen tried to shepherd her charges
away, but William made a fuss because he wanted to see the fight. Queen
told him she couldn't stand the sight of blood, and reluctantly William
agreed. They moved away, but fifty yards down the street they heard a
wolf whistle. They turned to see that the three young hooligans from the
fight were following them. They were poor whites, crackers, but dressed
in their Sunday best.
"Those rude boys!" Mary was angry. "How dare they!"
William winked at Queen, stopped walking, and pretended to look into a
shop window. "I think they like you, Queen," he said, for the fun of it
all appealed to him. Queen wanted to be away, out of here, home where it
was safe, as quickly as possible, but she had to attend William, and he
seemed to be enjoying himself.
They stared in a shop window, and within moments, they saw the
reflections of the young men behind them. They
444 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
turned from the window and the young men tipped their hats. "Afternoon,
sweetheart, pretty day," the biggest and handsomest said to Queen.
"We don't speak to strange men," Mary told them tartly, while William
pretended to be doing nothing.
"Oh, we're not strange," another laughed. "Just strangers. "
"And we'd like to be friends," his pal agreed.
Mary could do a fair imitation of her mother as Southern belle when she
wanted to. "Pay no attention to them," she told Queen.
"Oh, don't be so heartless." The first young man played his game. He had
no interest in Mary, who was too young, but if she was companion to that
older, dark-haired, violeteyed darling, that was fine by him. "We've come
to enlist for the war, and you might be the last young ladies we talk to
in years. "
"We might even die," another chimed in. "Defending your honor. "
Although they included Mary in the fun, they were staring at Queen. It
made her nervous, and she tried to hide behind Mary.
"My papa says there isn't going to be a war," Mary insisted, and the boys
laughed.
"Then your papa doesn't know much," the third one, who was very spotty,
said, and moved closer to Queen. "So how about it? One little kiss for
a soldier on his way to defend your honor?"
He grabbed the terrified Queen and gave a peck on the lips before she
really knew what was happening.
The boy grinned in triumph and his friends cheered. "There, that didn't
hurt, did it?"
It repelled Queen. She felt his hot breath on her face, stale with the
smell of beer and unwashed teeth, saw spots of blood on his shirt, and
knew it was the blood of the man the hooligans had beaten up. She felt
the-power in his arms when he grabbed her, knew she would be helpless if
he wanted any more from her. She knew he was white and she was a nigra.
She turned to William for help, and he had enjoyed the sport, but now
took command.
QUEEN 445
"I'm surprised at you," he told them. "How dare you kiss my slave girl!"
The effect was startling and immediate, and was what William intended and
Queen wanted. All sense of flirting deserted the young men, to be
replaced by surly anger. For a moment, Queen thought they might hit her.
The one who had kissed her spat violently, and wiped his mouth, Queen saw
hatred in his eyes, hatred for her.
"How was I to know?" He shouted his grievance to the world. "The bitch
looks white."
His friends were as angry. "Keep her off the streets; send her back to
the cotton fields where she belongs," the first said, as they moved away.
"Damned high yallas," the third called back. "Ought to be put down at
birth."
They were gone, still shouting abuse, and Queen shivered in relief. She
was used to slights about her color and her blood, but she had no
experience of men, and had never encountered anything like this before.
She had seen for the first time what the other slaves talked of
sometimes, this irrational urge of violence by white to black.
"Thank you, Massa Bill. I was scared," she said.
William had been scared for a moment too, but was proud of the way he had
coped, and continued his role as Massa.
"Pay no attention, they're just poor white trash," he told Queen.
But someone else was crying.
"I don't want a war," Mary sobbed, for the anger of the young men, and
the violence behind it, were something she, like Queen, had never seen