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    Queen

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    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,

     
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