He leaned against a damp wall. Whut in the worls keepin Bob so long? Well, in a way all of this was his own fault. He had had a chance to get away and he had acted like a fool and had not taken it. He had figured that the water would soon go down. He had thought if he stayed he would be the first to get back to the fields and start spring plowing. But now even the mule was gone. Yes, he should have cleared-out when the Government offered him the boat. Now he had no money for a boat, and Bob had said that he could not even get near that Red Cross.
He took a gourd from the wall and dipped some muddy water out of a bucket. It tasted thick and bitter and he could not swallow it. He hung the gourd back and spat the water into a corner. He cocked his head, listening. It seemed he had heard the sound of a shot. There it was again. Something happenin in town, he thought. Over the yellow water he heard another shot, thin, dry, far away. Mus be trouble, mus be trouble somewhere. He had heard that the white folks were threatening to conscript all Negroes they could lay their hands on to pile sand- and cement-bags on the levee. And they were talking about bringing in soldiers, too. They were afraid of stores and homes being looted. Yes, it was hard to tell just what was happening in town. Shucks, in times like these theyll shoota nigger down jus lika dog n think nothin of it. Tha shootin might mean anything. But likely as not its jus some po black man gone…
He faced the window again, thinking, Ahma git mah pistol outta tha dresser drawer when Ah go inter Lulus room. He rolled the tattered curtain up as far as it would go; a brackish light seeped into the kitchen. He looked out; his house was about twelve feet above the water. And water was everywhere. Yellow water. Swirling water. Droning water. For four long days and nights it had been there, flowing past. For a moment he had the illusion that that water had always been there, and would always be there. Yes, it seemed that the water had always been there and this was just the first time he had noticed it. Mabbe somebody jus dropped them houses n trees down inter tha watah… He felt giddy and a nervous shudder went through him. He rubbed his eyes. Lawd, Ah got fever. His head ached and felt heavy; he wanted sleep and rest.
The view opposite his window was clear for half a mile. Most of the houses had already washed away. Nearby a few trees stood, casting black shadows into the yellow water. The sky was grey with the threat of rain. Suddenly every muscle in his body stretched taut as a low rumble of thunder rose and died away. He shook his head. Nothin could be worsen rain right now. A heavy rainll carry tha ol levee erway sho as hell…
“Brother Mann!”
He turned and saw Sister Jeff standing in the hall door.
“How Lulu?” he asked.
The old woman shook her head.
“She poly.”
“Yuh reckon shell have it soon?”
“Cant say, Brother Mann. Mabbe she will n mabbe she wont. She havin the time of her life.”
“Cant we do nothin fer her?”
“Naw. We jus have t wait, thas all. Lawd, Ahm scared shell never have tha baby widout a doctah. Her hips is jus too little.”
“There ain no way t git a doctah now.”
“But yuh gotta do something, Brother Mann.”
“Ah don know whut t do,” he sighed. “Where Peewee?”
“He sleep, in Lulus room.”
She came close to him and looked hard into his face.
“Brother Mann, there ain nothin t eat in the house. Yuh gotta do something.”
He turned from her, back to the window.
“Ah sent Bob wid the mule t try t git a boat,” he said.
She sighed. He swallowed with effort, hearing the whisper of her soft shoes die away down the hall. No boat. No money. No doctah. Nothin t eat. N Bob ain back here yit. Lulu could not last much longer this way. If Bob came with a boat he would pile Lulu in and row her over to that Red Cross Hospital, no matter what. The white folks would take her in. They would have to take her in. They would not let a woman die just because she was black; they would not let a baby kill a woman. They would not. He grew rigid, looking out of the window, straining to listen. He thought he had heard another shot. But the only sound was the drone of swirling water. The water was darkening. In the open stretches it was a muddy yellow; but near the houses and trees it was growing black. Its gittin night, he thought. Then came the sound of shots, thin, dry, distant. Wun… Tuh… Three…
“Brother Mann! Its Bob!”
He hurried to the front door walking heavily on the heels of his big shoes. He saw Bob standing far down on the long steps near the water, bending over and fumbling with a coil of rope. Behind him a white rowboat trembled in the current.
“How yuh come out, Bob?”
Bob looked up and flashed a white grin.
“See?” he said, pointing to the white boat.
Mann’s whole body glowed. Thank Gawd, we gotta boat! Now we kin git erway…
“Who yuh git it from?”
Bob did not answer. He drew the rope tight and came up the steps.
“Ahm one tired soul,” Bob said.
They went into the hall. Mann watched Bob pull out a pocket handkerchief and mop his black face. Peewee came in, rubbing his eyes and looking at Bob.
“Yuh git a boat, Uncle Bob?”
“Keep quiet, Peewee,” said Mann.
Sister Jeff and Grannie came and stood behind Peewee. They looked from Bob to Mann. Bob tucked his handkerchief away, taking his time to do it, laughing a little.
“Lawd, Ahm one tired soul,” he said again.
“Who bought the mule?” asked Mann.
“Ol man Bowman bought the mule, but he didnt wanna pay me much.” Bob paused and pulled out a crumpled wad of one-dollar bills. “He gimme fifteen dollahs…”
“Is tha all he give yuh?”
“Ever penny, so hep me Gawd! N tha ol stingy white ape didnt wanna gimme tha, neither. Lawd, ol man Bowman hada pila dough on im big ernuff t choka cow! Ah swear t Gawd Ah never wanted t rob a man so much in all mah life…”
“Don yuh go thinkin sin, Bob!” said Grannie. “Wes got ernuff trouble here now widout yuh thinkin sin!”
Bob looked at her.
“Its a boat!” cried Peewee, running from the front door.
Mann stood fingering the bills.
“But how yuh git tha boat, Bob?” he asked.
“Is it our boat?” Peewee asked.
“Hush, Peewee!” Grannie said.
“Don worry! Yuhll git a chance t ride in tha boat, Peewee,” said Bob. He laughed and caught Peewee up in his arms. He looked around, then dropped into a chair. “When Ah lef Bowmans place Ah caughta ride downtown in a motorboat wid Brother Hall. Ah went everwheres, lookin high n low fer a boat. Some wanted forty dollahs. Some fifty. Ah met one man whut wanted a hundred. Ah couldnt buy a boat nowheres, so Ah ups n steals a boat when nobody wuz lookin…”
“Yuh stole the boat?” asked Mann.
“There wouldnt be no boat out there now ef Ah hadnt.”
“Son, yuh a fool t go stealin them white folks boats in times like these,” said Grannie.
Bob slapped his thigh and laughed.
“Awright, Ma. Ahll take the boat back. Hows tha? Wan me t take it back?”
Grannie turned away.
“Ah ain gonna ride in it,” she said.
“Awright. Stay here n drown in the watah,” said Bob.
Mann sighed.
“Bob, Ah sho wished yuh hadnt stole it.”
“Aw,” said Bob with an impatient wave of his hand. “Whut yuh so scared fer? Ain nobody gonna see yuh wid it. All yuh gotta do is git in n make fer the hills n make fer em quick. Ef Ah hadnt stole tha boat yuh all woulda had t stay here till the watah washed yuh erway…” He pushed Peewee off his knee and looked up seriously. “How Lulu?”
“She poly,” said Sister Jeff.
Grannie came forward.
“Whutcha gonna do, Mann? Yuh gonna take Lulu in the boat Bob done stole? Yuh know them white folks is gonna be lookin fer tha boat. Sistah James boy got killed in a flood jus like
this…”
“She cant stay here in the fix she in,” said Mann.
“Is Ah goin, Pa?” asked Peewee.
“Shut up fo Ah slaps yuh!” said Grannie.
“Whutcha gonna do, Brother Mann?” asked Sister Jeff.
Mann hesitated.
“Wrap her up,” he said. “Ahma row her over t the Red Cross Hospital…”
Bob stood up.
“Red Cross Hospital? Ah thought yuh said yuh wuz gonna make fer the hills?”
“We gotta git Lulu t a doctah,” said Mann.
“Yuh mean t take her in the boat Ah stole?”
“There ain nothin else t do.”
Bob scratched his head.
“Mann, Ahm mighty scared yuhll git in trouble takin tha boat thu town. Ah stole tha boat from the Pos Office. Its ol man Heartfiels, n yuh know how he hates niggers. Everbody knows his boat when they see it; its white n yuh couldnt git erway wid it. N lissen, theres trouble a-startin in town, too. Tha levees still overflowin in the Noth, n theys spectin the one by the cement plant t go any minute. They done put ever nigger they could fin on the levee by the railroad, pilin san n cement bags. They drivin em like slaves. Ah heard they done killed two-three awready whut tried t run erway. N ef anything happened t yuh, yuh just couldnt git erway, cause two mo bridges done washed erway this mawnin n ain no trains runnin. Things awful bad there in town. A lotta them white folks done took down wid typhoid, n tha Red Cross is vaxinatin everbody, black n white. Everwhere Ah looked wuznt nothin but white men wid guns. They wuz a-waiting fer the soljers when Ah lef, n yuh know whut tha means…”
Bob’s voice died away and they could hear Lulu groaning in the front room.
“Is yuh gonna take her, Brother Mann?” asked Sister Jeff.
“There ain nothin else t do,” said Mann. “Ahll try t take tha boat back t the white folks aftah Ah git Lulu t the hospital. But Ah sho wish yuh hadnt stole tha boat, Bob. But we gotta use it now. Ah don like t rile them white folks…”
“Ah ain goin in tha boat!” said Grannie. “Ah ain goin outta here t meet mah death today!”
“Stay here n drown, then!” said Mann. “Ahm takin Lulu t the hospital!”
Grannie cried and went into the front room. Sister Jeff followed.
“Pa, is Ah goin?” asked Peewee.
“Yeah. Git yo cloes. N tell Grannie t git hers ef she don wanna stay here, cause Ahm gittin ready t leave!”
Bob was restless. He pursed his lips and looked at the floor.
“Yuh gotta hard job, rowin tha boat from here t the hospital. Yuhll be rowin ergin the current ever inch, n wid a boat full itll be the Devil t pay. The watahs twelve foot deep n flowing strong n tricky.”
“There ain nothin else t do,” sighed Mann.
“Yuh bettah take something wid yuh. Tha ain nobodys plaything there in town.”
“Ahma take mah gun,” said Mann. “But Ahm sho sorry yuh had t steal them white folks boat…”
Like a far away echo a voice floated over the water.
“Brother Mann! Yuh there, Brother Mann!”
“Thas Elder Murray,” said Bob.
Mann opened the door. It was pitch black outside. A tall man was standing in a rowboat, his hand holding onto a rope by the steps.
“Tha yuh, Brother Mann?”
“How yuh, Elder?”
“Yuh all ain gone yit?”
“We jus fixin t go. Won’t yuh come up?”
“Jus fer a minute.”
Murray came up the steps and stood in the doorway, rubbing his hands.
“How Sistah Lulu?”
“We aimin t take her t the Red Cross…”
“Yuh mean t say she ain had tha baby yit?”
“She too little t have it widout a doctah, Elder.”
“Lawd, have mercy! Kin Ah see her?”
Mann led the way into Lulu’s room where a smoking pine-knot made shadows blink on the walls. Bob, Peewee, Sister Jeff, Grannie, Murray and Mann stood about the bed. Lulu lay on top of the bed-covers, wrapped in a heavy quilt. Her hair was disordered and her face was wet. Her breath came fast.
“How yuh feelin, Sistah Lulu?” asked Murray.
Lulu looked at him weakly. She was a small woman with large shining eyes. Her arms were stretched out at her sides and her hands clutched the quilt.
“How yuh feelin?” asked Murray again.
“She awful weak,” said Grannie.
Murray turned to Mann.
“Lissen, yuh bettah be mighty careful takin tha boat thu town. Them white folks is makin trouble n that currents strong.”
Mann turned from the bed to the dresser, eased his pistol out of the top drawer and slipped it into his pocket.
“Pa, whuts that?” asked Peewee.
“Hush!” said Mann.
“Brothers n Sistahs, les all kneel n pray,” said Murray.
They all got to their knees. Lulu groaned. For a split second a blue sheet of lightning lit up the room, then a hard clap of thunder seemed to rock the earth. No one spoke until the last rumble had rolled away.
“Lawd Gawd Awmighty in Heaven, wes a-bowin befo Yuh once ergin, humble in Yo sight, a-pleadin fer fergiveness n mercy! Hear us today, Lawd! Hear us today ef Yuh ain never heard us befo! We needs Yuh now t hep us n guide us! N hep these po folks, Lawd! Deys Yo chillun! Yuh made em n Yuh made em in Yo own image! Open up their hearts n hep em t have faith in Yo word! N hep this po woman, Lawd! Ease her labor, fer Yuh said, Lawd, she has t bring foth her chillun in pain…”
Mann closed his eyes and rested his hands on his hips. That slow dull ache had come back to his head. He wished with all his heart that Elder Murray would hurry up and get through with the prayer, for he wanted to be in that boat. He would not feel safe until he was in that boat. It was too bad Bob had to steal it. But there was no help for that now. The quicker wes in tha boat the bettah, he thought. Ef them white folks come by here n take it back well all be jus where we wuz befo. Yeah, Ahma take tha boat back t the white folks aftah Ah git Lulu t the hospital. Oh, yeah! Mabbe the Elderll take mah boat n lemme have his since hes on his way t the hills? Lawd, yeah! Thall be a good way t dodge them white folks! Ahma ast im…
“…Lawd, Yuh said call on Yo name n Yuhd answer! Yuh said seek n fin! Today wes callin on Yuh n wes seekin Yuh, Lawd! Yuh said blieve in the blooda Yo son Jesus, n today wes blievin n waitin fer Yuh t hep us! N soften the hard hearts of them white folks there in town, Lawd! Purify their hearts! Fer Yuh said, Lawd, only clean hearts kin come t Yuh fer mercy…”
Mann rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat. Naw, he thought, ain no use astin the Elder t take mah boat. Hell wanna know why n then Ahll have t tell im Bob stole it. N the Elder ain gonna hep nobody he thinks ain doin right. Mabbe ef Ah tol ol man Heartfiel jus why Bob stole his boat mabbe he wont hol it ergin me? Yeah, he oughta be glad ef Ah brings im his boat back. N yeah, mabbe the Elder kin take Sistah Jeff n Bob t the hills in his boat? Thad hep a lots…
“…n save our souls for Jesus sake! Ahmen!”
Murray stood up and began to sing. The others chimed in softly.
Ahm gonna lay down mah sword n shiel
Down by the riverside
Down by the riverside
Down by the riverside
Ahm gonna lay down mah sword n shiel
Down by the riverside
Ah ain gonna study war no mo…
Ah ain gonna study war no mo
Ah ain gonna study war no mo
Ah ain gonna study war no mo
Ah ain gonna study war no mo
Ah ain gonna study war no mo
Ah ain gonna study war no mo…
Murray wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and fumbled with his hat.
“Waal, Brothers n Sistahs. Ahm gittin on t the hills. Mah folks is there awready. Ah gotta boatloada stuff outside, but theres room fer two-three mo ef anybody wanna go.”
“Kin yuh take Sistah Jeff n Bob erlong?” asked Mann.
“Sho!”
Gr
annie was crying; she pulled on her coat and went into the hall. Bob came from the kitchen with a bundle. Mann lifted Lulu in his arms. Murray held the door for him. Peewee followed, holding a ragged teddy bear. Sister Jeff put out the pine-knot. They all paused in the front doorway.
“Bob, yuh bettah go down n steady tha boat,” said Mann.
“Lemme go wid yuh!” said Peewee.
“Yuh c mere!” said Grannie, grabbing his arm.
Bob pulled the boat close to the steps. Mann went down sideways, slowly.
“Take it easy, Brother Mann!” called Murray.
Mann stepped into the boat and rested Lulu in the back seat. Bob held her by the shoulders.
“C mon, yuh all!” Mann called to Grannie and Peewee.
They came, stepping gingerly. Murray helped them down.
“Ahll see yuh all at the hills!” he said.
Bob and Sister Jeff got into Murray’s boat. Murray was first to shove off.
“Ahm gone, folks! Good-bye n Gawd bless yuh!”
“Good-bye!”
Mann grasped the oars, wet the handles to prevent creaking, dipped, pulled, and the boat glided outward, over the darkening flood.
II
To all sides of Mann the flood rustled, gurgled, droned, glistening blackly like an ocean of bubbling oil. Above his head the sky was streaked with faint grey light. The air was warm, humid, blowing in fitful gusts. All around he was ringed in by walls of solid darkness. He knew that houses and trees were hidden by those walls and he knew he had to be careful. As he rowed he could feel the force of the current tugging at his left. With each sweep of the oars he weighed the bulk of the boat in his back, his neck, his shoulders. And fear flowed under everything. Lawd, ef only tha ol levee don break! An oak tree loomed ghostily, its leaves whispering. He remembered it had stood at the fork of a road. His mind weaved about the clue of the tree a quick image of cornfield in sunshine. He would have to turn here at a sharp angle and make for the railroad. With one oar resting, he turned by paddling with the other. The boat struck the current full, and spun. He bent to with the oars, straining, sweeping hard, feeling that now he must fight. He would have to keep the boat moving at a steady pace if he wanted to row in a straight line. And the strokes of the oars would have to be timed, not a second apart. He bent to, lifting the oars; he leaned back, dipping them; then he pulled with tight fingers, feeling the glide of the boat over the water in darkness. Lawd, ef only tha ol levee don break!
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