Queen

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,