endless, idle gossip and chatter. He was kind to those in need of
assistance, stem with those who offended him, and did his best to provide
722 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
his children with a good home life. In many ways his life was full, but an
important part of his heart was empty. He missed Tennie sorely, and he was
lonely.
He looked at the thin, frail woman sitting on the bench, her child held
firmly in her protective embrace, and guessed that North was an ambivalent
destination for her, an ideal to cling to because she had nothing else, and
wished he could help and give her some other purpose. He had seen an endless
procession of freed slaves head North, only to return weeks, months, years
later, with nothing in their pockets but broken dreams. And for all those
who came back, he knew ten times that number stayed, in disillusion.
He wondered where the woman would sleep that night, or what she would eat.
He had seen that her purse was almost empty, and seized the moment. They
were about halfway across the river.
"That girl of your'n still looking for a job?" he called to Fred, the bald
passenger, who was an old sparring partner.
Fred stared at Alec in surprise. "She ain't lookin' fo' a job," he said.
His daughter had a job, a good one, nanny to a white family.
"Well, if'n you hear of anyone..." Alec shrugged. "Massa Cherry's been
looking to' help this past two month, and no fool girl's got the sense to
apply."
Although it was said to Fred, he spoke loudly, above the rain, so that the
woman would hear.
"Good job fo' someone," he continued. "Room and board and good eatin'. And
you know Dora, who cooks for Massa Cherry, she c'n make mean victuals. Her
hog ribs with barbecue sauce-oh, man, that's eatin'."
He knew he had struck home, because he saw a flicker of interest in the
woman's eyes, and pushed his point.
"An' her pumpkin pie, and her peach cobbler-"
But the mouths of the other passengers were watering too. It was late in
the day; they were on their way home and looking forward to a good dinner.
They shouted him down with aggrieved announcements that they hadn't eaten
yet, or were hungry, or that their Missus could make the best peach pie in
the country. The woman didn't respond to the din.
A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 723
"Jus' sayin'. " Alec shrugged again. "You cain't get a good hog up North.
They all skinny ol' things up there."
He docked the ferry at the northern jetty, and the passengers crowded
off, bidding him farewell, hungry for their dinners. The woman quit the
ferry with them, and stood on the shore for a moment as if wondering
which way to go. New passengers began crowding on, jostling each other
and complaining of the rain. Alec, who had been busy tying up the line,
looked up to take the fares, and could see no sign of the woman. He
shrugged and returned to his business.
They sailed south again, and Alec could not get her out of his mind, an
itty-bitty thing, who carried such a sense of hopelessness with her. He
had done all he could; he had planted a seed and it hadn't taken. He
wished her well, wherever she was, and fell into conversation about the
grasshopper plague in the west.
Freeland was waiting for him on the southern side, and dashed from the
trees to help his father tie up. Fresh from school, which he hated,
Freeland loved to work on the ferry with his father. School was a pain
in the you know what. He helped passengers off and new ones on, and was
allowed to take the fares, because he was good at counting.
"Y'c'n count good, an' you never had much schoolin'," he said to his
father, and barked an unnecessary order to the passengers. "All aboard!"
"I still have trouble countin' past ten," his father grinned, and cast
off.
To Freeland, it was all grossly unfair. He could count past ten, he could
count to anything, he did most of the money counting for his pappy, and
he wanted to leave school and work on the farm, like George, his hero.
He never missed an opportunity for stressing his case to his father,
especially on the ferry, and did so now, as they headed north. But Alec
was adamant.
"You stayin' till you done sixth grade," Alec told him sharply, as he did
almost every day. "It's what yo' mammy wanted. "
It was the habitual end of the argument, and Freeland sighed, stared at
the river, and dreamed of being as old as George, who was sixteen.
724 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
Alec was sympathetic to his son's ambition. He'd never had much schooling,
but had done well enough in life. He thought education was a waste of a
boy's time, but counting was important, and he'd made a promise to Tennie.
Besides, the discipline wouldn't harm Freeland, and he was still too small
to be much use on the land.
He guided the ferr y to the northern jetty, and was surprised to see the
woman standing under a tree, her child still clutched to her. He felt a
small sense of satisfaction. She had risen to his bait. Now she had to be
hooked. He nodded a greeting to her, but she didn't respond. Freeland
helped the leaving passengers off and the new ones embark, took the fares
and saw Queen.
"Y' comin' on, lady?" he called. "Only a nickel."
Everyone was staring at her, because she was holding up the departure.
Queen hesitated. She wanted to go back south, she wanted the job the
ferryman had talked about, she wanted food for herself and her boy, and she
wanted a warm dry place to sleep. There was only one problem.
"I ain't got a nickel," she cried out suddenly. "I ain't got one red cent.
I ain't got nuttin'! "
It was passionately spoken, and everyone looked at her in astonishment,
mingled with some small pity for her plight, and annoyance, because they
wanted to be on their way. Alec took charge.
"Now I cain't hardly charge you fo' takin' you back where you came from,"
he called. "Only don't tell all these other niggers, else they'll all want
a free ride."
The passengers laughed. They knew the woman would ride for free, because
Alec was a kind man and she looked so poor, and they knew they'd all pay
their own fares without hesitation, but with considerable, vocal complaint.
It added a spark of interest to an otherwise ordinary ferry crossing.
Queen, angry at having to reveal her poverty and furious at their laughter,
made her way to the boat. She wouldn't take charity, she told Alec
grumpily. As soon as she got a job, as soon as she got back on her feet,
she would repay him. Alec smiled, and agreed that was the best solution.
Queen settled on the bench and glared angrily at the other passengers.
"Y'all quit staring at me, y'hear?" she shouted. "What you
A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 725
think I am, white trash? I's black like you, so you keep yo' eyes off me."
Everyone looked the other way and pretended they hadn't heard. Except
/> Alec, who couldn't take his eyes off her.
"An' that goes for you too," she shouted at him now. "You and all men,
y'all got just one thing on your minds, and I ain't got no time fo' none
of you!"
Her fury was formidable, and her performance spectacular. It drew murmurs
of agreement and appreciation from the other passengers, who variously
assured her that they heard her and wouldn't look at her.
Except Alec, who simply watched her, and she, perhaps embarrassed,
changed Abner to her other arm, and stared at the river.
Freeland was wide-eyed in wonder.
"Glory be, Pops," he said. "That is one mean-tempered woman."
"Ain't she just," Alec agreed, clearly impressed by her. They sailed
south. Queen's temper was almost permanently mean these days, for she
wore her troubles, her deep anger and her heartbreak, about her like a
shroud, and the world responded to her in kind.
She had never gone back to Mrs. Benson, but some strikers, aware of her
relationship to Davis, took pity on her, and gave her shelter. They had
little else to give her because they had so little themselves, and when
the strike was broken, only days later, they had even less. But their
spirits, unlike Queen's, were not broken. They had not succeeded this
time, but Davis had given them a sense of purpose and unity, and a belief
in the future. Three years later they would strike again, and this time
they would succeed, but Queen was not there for their victory. She hated
Beaufort, for it reminded her of Davis, and she set off on her journey
again, with no idea of where she was going, except to find some small
elusive peace. She did not go North, for if she had gone there and found
unhappiness again, where else was left to her? Without clearly
understanding what she was doing, she headed east, back to Georgia, to
Alabama, and to Florence. If she had thought about it, she would not have
believed that The Forks represented any kind of sanctuary, but
726 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
she didn't think about anything anymore; her only concern was for Abner's
survival, and, to a lesser extent, her own.
Without direction, without ambition, she existed, rather than lived. Her
temper quickened and her speech coarsened. She accepted rides from
strangers, but would not talk to them, only to her child. She hardened her
heart against the world, because she had lost all sense of trust in other
people. She took charity, gracelessly, where she could find it, and begged
or borrowed or stole when there was nothing else. Abner was her only
consolation, and the only contact she made with anyone was for his welfare.
He settled into an extraordinary acceptance of their circumstances. He
stared out at the world with round, open eyes, received gratefully all that
it offered, and cried only if he was hungry and they had no food, or if he
was tired and they had no bed for the night. She took jobs if she could
find them, only to be dismissed because of her short temper. And yet the
world was kinder to her than she allowed it to be. Folk took pity on her,
perhaps because ~he was so desolate, or for the boy's sake, and she
survived. She avoided anywhere that she might be known, such as Huntsville
or Decatur, and tried to avoid anywhere she had been.
After a year of wandering, she came to the outskirts of Florence, and was
forced to make a decision. She could go back to The Forks of Cypress and
beg some shelter at least, from Jass, or Missy Sally, or she could go on.
Since going back to an unhappy past was almost worse than her surviving
present, she chose to go on, but to where she did not know. She followed
the river and eventually she came to Savannah. She took the ferry north,
and when the ferryman talked of a job and food, her mouth watered, for she
had not eaten in two days, and her body craved for shelter, for she had not
slept in a bed for a week. When she got off the ferry, she walked for a few
hundred yards on the northern shore, well aware of her empty purse and her
hopeless position, and then turned back, to throw herself on the mercy of
the ferryman.
It was the last run for the day. Soon it would be night. As Alec docked, he
looked at Queen.
"Wait there," he said, nodding to the trees. Queen did as he bade, not
knowing what he had in mind, but put herself in
A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 727
his hands because she was beyond making a decision for herself. If he
proved as venal as all men, she would defend herself, and she would
survive somehow, but at that moment, she did not know how, or for what
reason, except Abner.
Alec tied up the ferry and sent Freeland home. He offered to carry Abner,
but Queen would not part with the boy. He led her up the muddy path to
the Cherry mansion, took her in the back way, and introduced her to Dora,
who was cook and housekeeper to Mr. Cherry.
Dora was mountainous and magnificent, of brisk manner and immense heart.
She took one look at the sodden sparrow clutching her boy to her and
gathered them up and cared for them as if they were her own. She made
warm milk immediately, then took them into her own bedroom, next to the
kitchen, and found warm dry clothes for Queen and a fresh, dry blanket
for Abner. She poured a big basin of hot water for them to wash, and went
back to the kitchen while Queen changed. She heated up a pot of thick
stew and talked to Alec, who had made himself comfortable by the fire.
Both guessed at her circumstances without reaching any conclusions, and
Alec told her that he had mentioned the job to the woman.
"Time enough fo' that later," Dora said to Alec, as Queen came nervously
back into the kitchen. She felt a little silly in the enormous dressing
gown, and still held Abner close to her, as she was wont to do in a house
of strangers, however wellintentioned they appeared to be. Dora sat her
at the table and put a big plate of stew in front of her, and cut some
slabs of bread. Queen mushed up some meat and vegetables and fed them to
Abner, making sure he was satisfied before she attended to her own
hunger. She would not speak, and only answered questions with a grunt or
a monosyllable, which made Alec a little cross. Thank you was not such
a hard thing to say. But her devotion to the boy impressed him, and he
glanced at Dora. She flicked her head at the door, suggesting he leave,
for she thought Queen might respond better if she was alone with a woman.
Alec took the hint and made his good-nights. He had to be home to his
brood, and see what problems the day had brought. Queen did not
acknowledge his leaving.
It was clear to Dora that Abner had eaten as much as he needed, and Queen
very little.
728 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
"The chile's done eatin', she said. "I'll hold him while you finish up."
But Queen would not let Abner go.
"Don't touch him," she said.
Dora was puzzled and concerned.
br /> "Lord, girl, what you think, I'm gwine steal him from you?"
Queen shrugged. Too many people had tried to take Abner away from her
already, but she had no way of explaining that.
Dora busied herself with pots and pans, and asked about her
qualifications. Queen responded less curtly, and her answers satisfied
Dora, who agreed she could have the job for a week, on a trial basis. It
was long hours and hard work, but Mr. Cherry was a fine, fair man, and
if Queen proved suitable she would be asked to stay on. There was no
response, and as Dora turned from the stove, she saw Queen filching some
bread from the table and stuffing it into her pocket. Again, Dora was
intrigued, but made no comment about it. She saw that Abner was asleep.
"Look at that boy, fast asleep in his mammy's arms," she said. "Sweetest
sight in all the world."
She sat beside Queen, to try to find some way to communicate with her.
"Is you still hungry?" she asked, and Queen shook her head. She was
staring down at her plate, as if her head was too heavy to hold up
upright.
"Is you tired?" Dora asked. For a moment there was no reply, but then
Queen looked at her and tears were streaming down her face. She hadn't
cried since the death of Davisthere was no point in it-but now in this
warm kitchen, in the company of a kindly woman, with a job and not hungry
anymore, a year's worth of tears found their release.
"I never been so tired in all my life," she said. She held on to Abner
and wept. She could not go to another human being for comfort, because
she had been too long alone, so Dora went to her. She put her embracing
arms around the unhappy woman, and held her to her bosom while she cried.
As mammies do.
Dora let Queen cry until she was done, then dried her eyes and told her
everything was going to be all right now. She
A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 729
might have taken her up the back stairs to her room, but she wanted Queen
to have some appreciation of the job she had been offered, and led her
through the main hall of the house, and up the sweeping staircase.
The hall was elegantly appointed, and fine portraits hung on the walls,
reminding Queen of The Forks of Cypress. She walked up the stairs feeling
as if she were back where she started, and remembered herself climbing
stairs similar to this, many years ago, in the company of a woman who
didn't love her, taking her away from her mammy, who did.
"Massa won't mind Abner being with me?" she asked Dora, who laughed.
"Do his heart good to have a chile in the house again," she said. "This
ol' place has been all echoes and shadows since Massa Cherry's chillun
done leave home."
She was anxious to learn what she could of Queen's background, and pried
gently.
"Don't s'ppose you ever seen the like," she said, referring to the
magnificent hall, and the splendid portraits.
Queen's mind was filled with ghosts.
"Oh, yes," she nodded. "My pappy was a great man. I lived in the big
house."
It wasn't much, but Dora thought it was a considerable breakthrough.
"Where yo' pappy now?" she asked, as they moved across the upper hall to
the second stairs. "He passed on?"
She didn't react when she heard a soft, sad voice behind her, but the
words stung her heart.
"No," Queen said. "He didn't love me. Because I am black. "
Her room was small, but comfortable, and blessedly warm. She made Abner
comfortable under the blankets, his head on a pillow, and Dora told her
to steep in the dressing gown.
"First thing tomorrow, we get you some decent clothes," she said,
thinking nothing of it. This was too much generosity for Queen, who was
used to begging for it, and stealing it.
"I don't want no charity," she muttered angrily.
Dora was concerned. She needed help in the house and Queen had the
qualifications, but under normal circumstances, she would have preferred
someone with a happier personality.
730 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN