small purse of coins, and when he protested told him not to be a romantic
fool.
"You have to eat, boy," she said. "You have to live."
He took the purse, and she hesitated for a moment before asking her next
question.
"Shall you go and see Father?"
Jamie nodded. He had no alternative. His father was his only possible
source of money for his passage, and he wanted to make his peace with the
man who had given him birth, and whom he might never see again.
He stayed with Eleanor until Washington came from Baltybay, to return to
his school in Dublin. Washington was thrilled to see his daring brother,
and they pumped hands and slapped each other on the back, and sparred
with each other, laughingly, as brothers do. When he heard of Jamie's
plans, Washington let out a yell of jealousy, because America was his
dream; he longed to go there, and fight Indians. He swore he would join
Jamie as soon as he had finished school, and they would have a rollicking
time together. The brothers shared a room in Eleanor's house, and talked
themselves to sleep each night with plans for the future. And they talked
of Ballybay.
Things had improved for their father, Washington told him, since the
rebellion was put down. The local British had shown tokens of desire to
make amends, and pretend they had no hard feelings. The linen mill was
too valuable to them to do otherwise.
Jamie bought new clothes with some of the money Eleanor had given him,
and a cheap horse from the livery stables. He rode toward Ballybay, and
saw the country with adult eyes, and not those of an impetuous boy. He
loved it still, but it
BLOODLINES 43
seemed dank, and a little dirty to him, and the grinding poverty of the
peasants depressed him. The white-walled cottages that had once
represented home to him looked small and shabby now, and he began to
despise the superstitious, docile peasants who had not been able to rid
their land of a governing power, despite their greater numbers. Bands of
homeless trekked the road, looking for shelter, and ignored him, or turned
away from him, for he was better dressed than they. Beggars were not so
fearful of him, and accosted him. Red-coated soldiers tramped the
highways, and would stop him, and ask for his papers, and snigger when
they saw he was banished. He despised being a marked man, and looked
forward to the new life that awaited him, not so far away, just across the
ocean.
The song of America sang in his ears, and he was already casting off the
shackles of his old country.
On reaching Ballybay, he went to Maureen and Patrick's cottage, to tell
them the details of Sean's brave death and lie about his burial. They
greeted him politely, but suspiciously. They knew their son was dead, and
Jamie's tales of his bravery hardly comforted them, for their hearts were
empty. They were glad he died as a hero, but they did not want him dead.
Jamie could not resist the feeling that they resented him, because he had
survived.
He rode to his father's estate, and looked at the linen mill beside the
river. From before his birth, hundreds of peasants had toiled there,
earning a pittance from his wealthy father, whose sympathies lay not with
them, but with himself, and the British. For a moment he was not sure
which made him more angry, the blind acceptance by the peasants of their
lot, or the exploitation of them by the ruling class.
"They could get out, get away," he shouted to the wind, "Like me, to
America!"
The call of his new land, his new life exhilarated him, and he galloped
up the drive to his father's house, loving the clean fresh air of
freedom. Jugs might have been waiting for him, for she ran from the house
when she heard his horse, and cried out his name. She threw her apron
over her head, and sat on the steps weeping, because he was safe, and
home again.
He turned her tears to laughter by picking her up and swing- 44 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
ing her round, gasping good-naturedly with the effort.
"Put me down," she cried. "I'm too heavy!"
11 Yes, you are!" he laughed, and put her down. She held his face in her
hands and looked at him closely, as if inspecting every pore of him, to
see what the world had done to her boy. Satisfied that there were no
visible scars of his wars, she hugged him, and old Quinn came by, looking
older now, and walking with a stick. He shook Jamie's hand, and winked
that he would hear all his news in the stable, when old Jugs was done
with him.
She took him to the kitchen, and fed him mugs of thick sweet tea, and
oatcakes, and begged to hear all he had done.
He told her of his adventures, but briefly, because he could tell Jugs
did not want the details, they were too distressing for her. She crossed
herself when he described how Scan died, and she cursed the British when
he described Newgate Prison.
He told her he had to leave Ireland, and where he would go. Jugs turned
her head away, to compose herself.
" 'Tis proper that ye go," she said. "There's nothing for ye here. "
She tried hard to look on the bright side.
"And half of Ireland is there afore ye. Ye'll not lack for friends. "
But she could not hide her fear.
"But, oh, Master Jamie," she cried. "Be careful of them Injuns. They's
awful fierce, the heathen savages,"
He laughed and said he would be very careful, and then asked after his
father.
"In his study," Jugs said. "He's waiting for ye."
Jamie went to his father's study, rapped on the door, and went in when
called.
James Jackson was writing at his desk, and finished his signature before
he looked at his son. He stared at him for a few moments, and nodded his
head, as if in approval.
"You look none the worse for your misadventures," he said. "In fact, you
look positively healthy."
"Good evening, sir," Jamie smiled. "I trust you are well."
His father nodded again. "Things have come to a sorry pass," he said. "I
told you no good would come of mixing with croppies. "
BLOODLINES 45
Jamie felt a flash of anger, but controlled himself.
"I blame myself, of course," his father continued. "I should have been
stricter with you. I'm sorry if you found me wanting as a father. I tried
to do my best by you."
Jamie struggled hard to control a smile. It was hard for him to imagine
how his father could have been stricter with him.
~'To make some small amends I have booked you a passage to America. It
is not until April-it seems it is a popular destination. I suppose you
will want to stay here until then."
It was not a gracious invitation, but Jamie was pondering something else.
How did he know about America? Had Eleanor told him'?
He accepted the envelope his father gave him. "Thank you, sir," he said,
br /> but his father did not smile.
"I have also made arrangements for some portion of the family funds that
would have come to you to be sent in letters of credit for your use in
Philadelphia."
Uncle Henry had told him, Jamie guessed. He had not talked to Eleanor
about Philadelphia.
"After that," James Jackson said, "you may not expect another penny from
me, during my life, or in my will."
Jamie's cheeks flushed with angry shock. He had not expected much from
his father, some few words of comfort, perhaps a little well-intentioned
advice, or even a scolding. But he had not expected this. Banished and
disinherited. It was a cruet world. He was being treated as an errant,
headstrong boy. But he was not a boy anymore, he was a man, and he would
show his father how much of a man he had become.
"I will make my own way in this new world," he murmured, and could not
stop his voice from rising. "I will be richer than you ever imagined, and
more powerful than you have ever been. And I will use my money wisely,
like Lord Fitzgerald and Oliver Bond, in the people's interest-"
"The people," his father sneered. "The common rabble, you mean."
Jamie was close to losing his temper and struggled to control himself.
"I take this because I must," he said, holding up the envelope. "But I
do not want one penny more of your money,
46 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
or your damned letters of credit, in your life or when you are dead. "
But he could not make his father believe him.
'-You will never amount to anything," James Jackson said to his son.
Jamie wanted to cry out or to hit him, but he did neither. All the hope
of all the love he had ever wanted from his father came to nothing, and
he believed that his father had never cared one whit for him, for if he
cared, how could he disparage him so?
"I will make a liar of you yet!" he shouted. Fists clenched in rage and
bitter disappointment, he walked out of the room.
Jugs was waiting for him in the hall. She had heard the shouting through
the door, and tried to make amends.
"He didn't mean it," she said. "He's been worried about ye.
"He never cared about me for one day in his life," Jamie replied. "But
I will show him-you wait and see. I'll prove him wrong."
James Jackson sat at his desk, his face livid with rage, his hands
trembling with anger. He had done his best by the boy, had offered him his
portion, and it had been thrown back in his face. He had tried to do his
best by all his children, and all were ungrateful, and had turned on him.
All had been given every possible benefit when young, but their wretched
flirtations with the nationalist movement had almost destroyed his life,
his business, and their inheritance. He could not understand their
stupidity and ingratitude.
He poured himself a brandy, and tried to calm down.
He had not wanted children, except a son, to inherit what he had created.
Sadly, children went hand in glove with what he did want, for he loved
women, and needed their physical company. Since in order to have that
physical companionship he must have children, and since because of his
standing in the community he should have children, and because without
an heir everything he worked for would die with him, he had raised a
family. He was quite fond of each of them when they were little, but
intolerant of their demands on his time. The difficulty of running and
expanding a business such as his in
BLOODLINES 47
these troubled times had taken all his energy. He had provided his family
with everything they needed, had employed nannies and teachers for them,
and had asked, in return, simply that they behave themselves and not
trouble him. Surely that was not selfish? But they had troubled him, to
distraction, and when he could not accommodate the demands they made on
him, they had turned against him. He did not mind the behavior of the
girls so much, for they, at least, were pretty and womanly, and he
actually admired and defended Eleanor, despite his opposition to her
marriage. It was the boys who were truculent and troublesome, and he
wondered if there was too much of himself in them, or if he simply envied
their strength and youth and vitality. Most of all, he was disappointed
in Jamie, who shared his love of horse racing, and who, he thought, might
have been his true heir. In the end, even Jamie had let him down, and was
off to America to join his wastrel brothers.
The sense of complete failure of his domestic life was shocking to him,
but he did not blame himself. Matrimony, he decided, was an archaic
institution, of peasant origin, and worthless to the modern man. He had
refused to marry his mistress, Sarah Black, because he did not want to
be disappointed by marriage again, but she was content with the hours he
could give her, and he bad two fine boys by her, who appreciated him and
never asked for more than he could give. Why could not his legitimate
children be the same?
But still Jamie was his son, and he could not send him out into the world
without some provision for his welfare. He wrote to his lawyer advising
that Jamie should be excised from his will, but he did not cancel the
letters of credit. Whether the boy chose to use the money or not was up
to him. He had done his duty as a father. In the morning he went to
Belfast on business, and never made contact with Jamie again.
Jamie spent a day with Sara and Jimmy at their cottage, and they envied
his plans. With Washington at school in Dublin, Jimmy was no longer
employed as tutor, but had found some few hours of part-time work, with
other families, but was hardpressed to make a living. They had often
talked of emigrating, and Jamie's plans gave their own fresh impetus.
Jamie laughed that soon the whole family would be there.
48 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
"And why not?" Sara asked. "What is there for us here?" Jamie was anxious
to be gone from his father's house. He planned to return to Dublin and to
find work for a month, to give him some spending money, or to ask Eleanor
for a loan. He spent a happy evening with old Quinn in the barn, talking
of racehorses and getting drunk on poteen, and said a tearful farewell to
Jugs, when he staggered into the kitchen late that night.
She saw the moment she had been waiting for, and pressed a small bag of
money into his hand. It was not much, but as much as he needed. He looked
at it in surprise, and sobered up fast.
"It is some part of my savings," she said. "And ye have need of it. "
"I can't take this, Jugs," he protested, for her generosity embarrassed
him. She was a poor woman, and he could have been rich.
"Oh, tosh," she said. "Put it in your pocket, for I know ye have none.
Ye think I could rest easy with you going off to that savage land and not
a penny to bless yourself with?"
He would not take it.
/> " I have no need of it, " she cried. " I have everything here. And,
sensibly, she gave him a way out.
"It is a loan," she said. "Ye can easy pay me back when ye've made your
fortune."
That, and his need, convinced him, and he swore that he would pay back
every penny of it. He kept his word. From the first few dollars he earned
in America, he sent small sums back to Jugs until the loan was paid off,
and he continued to send her money for the rest of her life.
The following morning, at dawn, Sara and Jimmy came to the house to wish
him Godspeed, and they stood with Jugs and old Quinn, and watched him
trot down the drive and away, out of their lives. Then they went inside
and sat with Jugs, who wept for the boy she had raised and would never
see again.
The sadness and many tears of the leavetaking depressed Jamie, and halfway
down the drive he spurred his horse to a gallop. The sudden energy and
easy motion of the horse broke
BLOODLINES 49
him from melancholy, for he was on his way at last. He galloped through
the chill morning, the crisp wind biting his hands and ears, and felt an
extraordinary power of masculinity within him, for he was taking on the
world.
He stayed with Eleanor in Dublin again, and said his goodbyes to his
sister and Washington, and in late March he took the ferry to Liverpool.
As the boat sailed out of the harbor, he looked back on his native land
with little regret, for his father's insult still rang in his ears.
"You will never amount to anything."
He would amount to something, he swore to himself. He was casting off his
old life and taking on a new. He was not a boy anymore, he was a man,
hardened by life, blooded in war, forged in prison.
He was not young Jamie either. The diminutive always made him feel
little, if loved, and not quite a man. It had been used to distinguish
him from his father, but there was no need of it now, for he had no
father. A new name for a new life seemed fitting, and anyway, it was not
a new name, it was his true name, and his father's name, and perhaps to
spite the man who had sired him, he called out his name.
"James," he shouted at the seagulls.
And again, to convince himself.
"I am James."
In May, when he sailed from Liverpool on the good ship America, under the
command of Captain Silas Swain and bound for Philadelphia, the passenger
manifest listed him simply as James Jackson.
6
The ship pitched and rolled, and mountainous waves endlessly broke over
the bow. The storm had raged for two days, and the passengers had come to
believe that the ship could not withstand the tempest, and must break
apart. Most of the passengers, apart from James and some of the crew, were
wretchedly ill, and spent their days in their cabins, moaning their fear
and their distress. To a few of those who had never been to sea, the
sickness and fear were worse than death, and they begged the good Lord for
deliverance, and if that meant the ship would be smashed apart and plunge
them to a watery grave, it was preferable to their present plight. There
was talk of mutiny among some of the men who had no experience of the sea,
of forcing the captain to return to port, but he, an old sea dog, only
laughed at them.
"Would You have me go back into the teeth of the gale when we have nearly
ridden it out?"
They were hardly convinced that an end to their suffering was in sight,
but it gave them a small hope, and they could not countenance going back
and into the storm again.
The missionary Reverend Blake and his good wife spent hours on their
knees, when they were not on their bunks being ill, praying to their
Savior to calm the seas, as at Galilee, and on the third day, when the
waves subsided and the wind abated, they believed He had wrought a
miracle.
Jamie found his sea legs early. The Irish Sea had been choppy, but he soon
got used to the rolling motion of the ship and spent happy hours on deck,