by Marlon James
Night time come and Lilith in the cellar, her nerves worse. She think about what she can do now that them find out her secret. Lilith wonder when he was goin’ strike her again, Massa Humphrey. She wonder how he find out about her and why he taking so long to beat her. Lilith sweating on this and remember something Homer say about when a puss catch a bird. The massa was looking at her all queer-like, so why not come to her that very instant and beat the lying out her frame? But he be white man, after all. Taking they good time to move in for the kill is they most favourite thing. Lilith tell herself she don’t care, she dead from the day she born.
Lilith look around the kitchen. She blind in the dark, but know where everything be. She know where the knife keep. She know where Homer keep the razor to shave Massa Humphrey, like she do most Sunday. A house nigger deal with herself that way one time and Homer say that if you cut across your wrist right you don’t even feel pain, but a slower kind of feeling, like when you smoke certain bush.
Down in the cellar Lilith think of blood and on the cellar floor, Mistress Roget blood spread like wings. Mistress Roget eye open wide and she scream hellfire. Lilith shake her head out of it. White man God say vengeance is mine and he always ready to judge the quick and the dead. The night woman don’t come back no more. Maybe she be neither Anansi or the Abarra but the Ogun, who Homer say negro womens must never talk ’bout. Homer make Ogun sound like man, but maybe Ogun pretty and terrible and shift like hot wind, a she not a he, who always and never the same.
Then Lilith see blood on her hands and have a start. She run upstairs and buck her toe on the step. Lilith run into the kitchen, feeling her way through the space that she know. By the counter under the window, the open barrel of water be where it always be. She scrub her hands in the barrel. Then she cup some water in her hand and bury her face. The coldness snap Lilith right down her back. The splashing make noise and she didn’t hear the first step. But she hear the second. And the third. Lilith run over to other end of the kitchen, dodging pot and pans that hanging above and banana bunches that lie on the floor. Four and five step. Too late to run down the stairs back to the cellar. Lilith run into the darkest corner and make herself like shadow.
Sixth step. In the room. Miss Isobel yellow hair push up in a hat. She wearing man tails and man breeches that too loose on her hip and boots. Lilith look at Miss Isobel face and see a mask, shiny like she coming from a costume ball. Miss Isobel halt. Lilith still. Lilith pushing herself in the corner trying to make herself smaller. Between Lilith and Miss Isobel be the counter in the center of the kitchen. Miss Isobel turn to the door and let herself out.
The next morning Lilith rise again and go to the kitchen. The sun don’t rise yet and not even cock crowing. As she reach the top step, she stop. In the kitchen be Homer at the table, and making noise as he drinking tea be Robert Quinn.
—Speak of the devil, massa, Homer say.
—Aye, lass, the person I’ve been expecting, Robert Quinn say.
Lilith perplex.
Robert Quinn gargling the tea.
—Massa Quinn, he have good news for you, girl chile. Good, good news, Homer say, but the smile come too late and go too early. Lilith don’t like the look of it.
—Massa Quinn come for you belongings. You goin’ live with him now, girl chile.
21
EVEN THE DIRTIEST, SMELLIEST POOREST, MOST GODFORSOOK, black teeth, worthless Cockney bastard know that white skin carry God power. White people say something to that sort all the time. Usually is planter and other rich white man talking ’bout they fellow white man who poorer, who come to Jamaica and see that there be nothing like danger in black flesh to make all white man realise they have the same standing. Good money wagering that this not be how things go back in the London, or Liverpool, or Birmingham or whatever ham or hell the white man come from. But even fool-fool white man know that he worth something as soon as he take foot in the West Indies.
The truth be this. They’s scared of the negroes. They scared of the arms that can grab three stalk of cane in one grip and chop it straight through with one swing. They scared of the fingers that sprinkle something in the soup that might be pepper today, poison tomorrow. They scared that the hand that can wring a chicken neck can wring a lady neck. They scared that what between negro man leg goin’ battering ram up in white woman and leave her loose with niggerkin, and ruin her. They scared that deep in the blackest pussy more bewitching than opium.
There be thirty-three negro for every white in Jamaica. And when most of them negroes be Ashanti, there goin’ be more hataclaps in the colony than in hell itself. 1702: Rebellion in the east county, not far from Montpelier. 1717: Twelve rebellion in the east and west, so much so that the king send more militia to the colony and they didn’t leave. 1722: Slave rebellion in Montego Bay so bad that the governor have to send for the Mosquito Indians to fight the negroes. By now, the negroes take to fleeing to the hills and joining the Maroons. Maroon take residence and beat the British so much they turn fool. 1734: Rebellion. The backra sack Nanny Town. 1738: Rebellion. 1739: Rebellion. 1740: Rebellion. 1745: The plot to kill all the whites. 1746: Rebellion. 1758: Rebellion. 1760: The worsest rebellion under Tacky—sixty whites and four hundred blacks get killed. 1765: Rebellion. 1766: Rebellion. 1771: Militia discover a new slave plot and find there be five hundred negroes plotting. 1777: Rebellion. 1782: Rebellion.
White man know that there never be a safe day in the colony. So they whip we. One hundred, two hundred, three hundred lash and whatever number come after that. They burn they mark with hot iron on you chest, breast or arse cheek. They chop off a foot if you run away, a hand if they think you thief and a balls if they showing you a lesson. They derby-dose you, stuff you mouth with nigger shit and wire it shut until you swallow it. They beat you if you sick, they beat you if you well. They make a well man sick. They shoot you in the head if the cane don’t cut right, they shoot you in the arse if you not moving with haste. They step on you after the whipping and rub salt pickle, lime juice and bird pepper in the wound until you cry blood. They make one negro piss in another negro eye or mouth. They rub molasses on a naked negro so that fly set ’pon him in the day and mosquito take over in the night.
They take a mama new young’un and kill it in front of the mama. They take a mama new young’un and give it to other negro to suckle. They take a mama new young’un and sell it before it reach six.
They say black woman titty lank like goat and black man head low like rooster. They say you lazy, lying, thiefing, lusty, savage, wicked, ungodly, stink, rank, sweaty, vile, stupid, backward, sickly, worthless and brutish. They say you eat negro flesh, drink negro blood and rutt you own father, mother, brother and sister. Then they look at you breast and watch they own crotch rise. They work you from before sunrise to after sundown and in crop time, through the night.
They takes you from the Africa. Plenty negro born on the estate, but in 1800 plenty negro still come from the Africa. They pile six hundred negro in the ship beside and on top of each other, lying down with a chain on they foot for three months. They take the negro out and talk to them in a tongue they don’t understand and wash they shit and rankness off with sea water and whip two or three for amusement. People think the Igbo negro fool, but the Igbo have sense to wait until they take up all the negroes on deck for cleaning and whipping, and he or she would tip over the edge of the ship and drown and take the baby too. Six hundred negro sail from the Africa, four hundred negro living when the ship dock. Lilith have a quilt on her back, but there be a bigger quilt, a patchwork of negro bones that reach from the Africa to the West Indies.
But sometime, a negro get tired of white man stomping so he grab the foot, twist and break it. Sometime a negro say, Enough done be enough now.
The year of our lord, 1784. December. Jack Wilkins get correspondence that a Coromantee nigger they call Bacchus run away to the swamp. Rage fly up in Jack Wilkins’ face that get red like annatto. He storm into the dining room where Massa and
Mistress Wilson taking tea and say one rude nigger gone take it ’pon himself to run away and this is what happen when they look at a white man and see only weakness. The massa look down on the ground, but the mistress say that if Jack Wilkins so strong, then he should get going and catch the negro, since they don’t pay overseers two hundred pounds a year to stand up and chat about how brutish a man of lower birth like him can be. Jack Wilkins storm out of the house with him face redder.
Jack Wilkins get more correspondence from the same house nigger that Bacchus be seen on the west end of the swamp, waiting for sunset to flee. Jack Wilkins head to the bush and see Bacchus right away standing in the swamp with grass that tall like tree, and tree that swinging with green vine, and vine that swimming in the swamp river that giggle and gurgle. The sun setting and sometimes light slip past a tree branch and stun Jack Wilkins. Jack Wilkins coming, but Bacchus not running, not at all. Jack Wilkins cursing ’bout how he going chop Bacchus member off, but Bacchus still standing, up to him calf in swamp water. Jack Wilkins ’bout ten or twelve paces from Bacchus and uncoil the whip. Bacchus smile. Jack Wilkins crack the whip but the swamp tree too plenty and every time he swing the whip, it coil round a branch. Jack Wilkins struggling to pull the whip and making noise in the water. But Bacchus quiet like a mouse.
Cronos even quieter.
Jack Wilkins didn’t see Cronos until a big black hand wrap round him neck and start to choke him. Jack Wilkins push back and the two of them stumble into the water. Wilkins trying to pull off Cronos’ hand but Cronos too strong. Cronos squeeze down on Wilkins’ neck as if he goin’ crush it before Wilkins strangle. The whole swamp hearing the sound of him splashing in the water and coughing cause he can’t breathe. Wilkins hand flay and flay until he manage to pull out the musket he keep on him chest. The gun damp but not wet. Wilkins manage to push the musket up under Cronos’ chin and pull the trigger. One click, then nothing. Cronos laugh.—Jus’ like a backra, fi have gun that can’t shoot, he say. Cronos choking Wilkins and swinging him around like a dolly. Wilkins look like all blood squeeze into him head and soon bust. Wilkins try again, two, three time, he try so hard that he didn’t know that Cronos dead until blood start flowing down him white cheek. Cronos’ death grip tighter than the strangle and Wilkins make great effort to push the nigger off. But musket only have one shot, and Bacchus know.
By now, plenty slave out surrounding the swamp and watching. Just watching. Nobody come in the swamp, but stay outside, just watching. Wilkins stumble and try to run but the water too shifty, the mud too deceiving and the trees too plenty. He turn west but Bacchus chasing after him.
—I’s gone kill you, you bombocloth! I’s gone chops off you cocky and cut you a new-fangle pussyhole! Bacchus say.
Wilkins push him off and run. Bacchus swing the cutlass but strike a tree. Wilkins running to the setting sun, but the west is deep water.—Come back, backra! Come get you judgement, Bacchus say. Wilkins run and stumble. Wilkins cry out for help but none of the negroes move. All the negroes watch. Wilkins cry out for help again and promise double portion of food to the slave that help. The negroes watch. Wilkins can’t see no face. He turn around and Bacchus jump him. They twist and turn and roll and struggle like two crocodile. Bacchus swing the ’lass and slice Wilkins right near the knee. Wilkins try to grab Bacchus’ throat but him neck slippery. Bacchus set down the cutlass in the water and grab Wilkins’ neck. Bacchus push Wilkins under the water so far that only him legs be kicking and splashing. Wilkins kicking and Bacchus still have him under the water. Wilkins make one last kick and hit Bacchus square in the balls and Bacchus yell and fall back in the water. While Bacchus groaning and clutching him belly, Wilkins find the cutlass. The baby crocodiles wake up to the smell of man blood. The whole fight take twenty minutes or so. Only one man come from the swamp. Jack Wilkins take Bacchus’ chop-off head and go straight back into the dining room, where he slam it on the table right in the massa plate. The mistress swoon and the massa throw up.
—This is law and order according to the tropics, Jack Wilkins say.
Later that night he shove Bacchus’ head on a stick and plant the stick right in front of the slave quarters, where Bacchus stay until he rot off. Knowing who Bacchus’ sister be, a house slave who not yet fourteen, he drag her from great house to the stable, where he rape her and leave him seed in her. Eight month later, in a birth that kill the mama, come a girl black like pitch with the prettiest green eyes anybody ever done see. Word was that Wilkins see the girl lifeblood on the ground, making the way from the boiling house to the midwifery, get full up with pity when he hear she dead, and put Lilith to live with Circe and Tantalus the mad nigger, under a sort of arrangement that make Circe all but a free nigger. That was the last good deed Jack Wilkins do for the rest of him life.
From that day in the swamp Jack Wilkins carry two musket. Many slave take the heed, but some stay spirited. One of the little boys that the massa was teaching to ride pull a knife on him and scrape him cheek a little. Jack Wilkins have him gibbeted for attacking a Christian. Two negro slave run away to go live with the Maroon negroes in the mountain, but when Jack Wilkins set the dogs after them, they leave only pieces of meat to eat later.
But even negro woman was showing sass. They talk back and they act poorly and they mimic the mistress. Plenty get whipped, two or three get chop, one get gibbet and one get red-hot iron poker ram up her pussy, which kill her in one day. Wilkins tell the massa that it lookin’ like he weak and if he keep up in this fashion the negroes was goin’ soon rebel like they do in the east county and kill every white man within three hundred miles. Wilkins say they must teach the negroes a lesson.
That Saturday, the negroes get the learning. In the morning when the womens washing before they go to the field, Wilkins ride up and grab Leto, a girl who not be sixteen yet. Leto scream. One hour or so later he summon all the slave to one of the empty fields.—This is what happen to you when you cross with your master! Jack Wilkins say. In the middle of the field was bundles of stick and bush. In the middle of the bundle was a tree trunk. Tied to the tree trunk was Leto who screaming, pleading and crying. Jack Wilkins wave him hand and a Johnny-jumper come with a burnin’ stick. Behind the negroes go the sound of click. White slave-driver and black slave-driver all pointing gun so that nobody can even turn away. The only choice was to close the eye and hear the scream, the likes of which nobody hear before or again. The only choice was to hear the scream and pray she catch fire quick and knock out and wait until the grounds full with the smell of burnin’ negro.
Montpelier negroes behave after that. The estate get good name for having the most docile negroes and even the Coromantees learn to be obedient. They behave even after the massa die and Jack Wilkins get replace and they behave good now with Massa Humphrey and Robert Quinn. But some fire don’t go out, they go quiet under the ash, waiting for one little dry stick to feed. So the white man sleep with one eye open, waiting for the fire next time.
That fire coming.
22
LILITH SET DOWN HER BELONGINGS AND WATCH THE MORNING rise on the curtain and colour the room red. Robert Quinn house change plenty since the last time she be there, but that was in the night, so she not really sure. But she remember looking out the window and seeing sky, so the red curtain must be new. The floor clean and there seem to be one or two new chair in the house. The wall wear down from old age so they look grey. Two paintings still on the wall and a map that say Jamaica. Lilith remember the table and she remember him sitting on it, with him eyebrow raise, trying to get to the bottom of what she all about.
—Since I have no wish to dine with the Wilsons, I expect a hearty supper when I get back, he say to her as he leaving. She listen to the horse riding away from the house. Only she and the breeze left inside. Lilith stand still in place and don’t move for a long time. The house bigger than she remember. Lilith go down the corridor and find what supposed to be the bedroom, but the curtains draw and the room dark and hot like August
night. She nearly stumble two time as she go over to the window. Lilith pull back the curtain and light rush in past her without permission. She can see the estate, the mountains and even the sea to the far west. She turn around and look about the room. The bed so big that there not be room for much else, and clothes all over the floor. She pick up all the boots—more than the massa—and match them, then set them in the closet. She pile all the dirty clothes outside the room and set to spreading the bed with new linen, linen that set aside on the chest of drawers on the other side of the room. The linen smell like the curtain, like perfume and new things. She use a old sheet to dust the room, then spread the bed with the new sheet that deep red like wine. The sunlight agree. The bedpost shine and the chest of drawer change from black to brown.
She leave the room and find another room on the other side that not bigger than the mistress closet. There she set her belongings. In another room down by the corridor be a trunk and old clothes and horseshoes and other things man put in house when no woman be there to say no. There she find bucket. Half day later, the whole house spotless. Lilith set down her blankets on the kitchen floor and go about with the cooking, killing a chicken from the pen and cooking it down in salt, pepper, thyme, ginger and green pawpaw, a trick she learn from Homer.