The Black Swan

by Day Taylor

  She was nearly breathless when the steeplechase began. Down the course were bales of hay, sections of snake fence, and a barrier of large flat rocks. At the starting gun the contestants were to clear all barriers, turn around at the end, and run against the tide of laggers back to the starting point.

  Phil and Waite took off at the "get ready*' count, and were ten feet down the lane before the shot sounded. "False start! Go on back!" Phil turned in one direction, Waite in the other. The mass of contestants pounded down * the track toward them. The cousins ran heavily into each other and went sprawling. Those in the rear had to leap over several fallen bodies before the casualties picked themselves up and continued running.

  The steeplechase was grueling, requiring tremendous strength and stamina as weU as speed. Contestants fell, agonizing over cramps in legs and sides. By accident or in malice some stepped on the heels of men in front of them, battling to be first over the barriers.

  Adam, running in front with Andrew, Robert, and several teen-age boys, had cleared the hay barriers and fences. Just ahead was the rock pile, too high to leap over, too wide to clear, and treacherous to climb. There was a mad scramble as others leaped for the same spot. The hurtling bodies, Adam among them, crashed down on the far side of the pile. With a triumphant "Yaa-hoo!" Leroy Biggs hurdled the rock pile and landed with both hands in the small of Adam's back.

  "You son of a bitch," Adam gasped.

  "Somethin' botherin' you, Cap'n?" Leroy smiled, then fell back as Lyman slid face first down the pile onto him.

  Adam, limping for the next few strides, went on. He leaped the last barrier—hay bales with slithery hay scattered on the far side—and sprawled again. He felt as bruised and mauled as he had when, as an apprentice aboard his first ship, he had learned to climb the rigging.

  On the way back he concentrated not on his competitors, but on the course. The rock barrier looked less formidable now. The runners had knocked it down to more manageable height, merely an ankle-spraining obstacle. At the hurdles Adam made up distance, his long stride and powerful legs taking him over the snake fences with ease. He was ahead, sprinting strongly down the quarter mile to the finish line.

  Leroy's heavy footsteps behind him spurred him on, knees high*, kick strong as he gauged his steps to the last hurdle. Leroy pulled up beside him. Again their eyes met, grim determination on both faces, mingled with the contorted grimaces of agonized lungs.

  "I'm a-gonna whup you, you smart-assed boat driver," Leroy gasped.

  "Like hell."

  They ran down the long lane, faces red, hearts slamming, pushed on by cheers and the sight of the finish line. At the last barrier something—someone?—hit against Adam's foot. His rhythm was gone. He couldn't clear the barrier. He could go through it or ... He dived in a forward roll, regained his balance, and kept running. At the finish line he was two paces behind Leroy and five ahead of Lyman Matthews and Robert Tilden.

  When the last contestant had straggled in, pandemonium reigned. Men bent over trying to regain their breath. Several vomited into the bushes. One teen-ager turned brilliant red, then ghost white as he passed out. Men were draped over the hay bales, chests heaving, sweat pouring.

  "Keep moving, boy, keep moving," Adam panted, forcing Phil Tilden to keep jogging with him, slowing the pace until they could stand it.

  There was a break while thirsty competitors crowded the refreshment table, laughing again and jostling each other. Leroy was lording his triumph. "Yes, sir, it just don't take much a-tall to beat out-a-town boys. Seems like if they ain't got a boat under their feet, they better get wheels!'* The laughter was general and good-natured, and Adam joined in.

  "Hey, Cap'n," Leroy beamed, "how 'bout a good ol' boxin' match? Jes' you an* me, jes' us two big boys? Whad-daya say to that?"

  "Sorry," said Adam, and finished his drink. "Too dangerous."

  Leroy's laughter boomed out. Dulcie, approaching with Gay and Jeannie, said, "What's he up to now?"

  "Haw! Haw! Haw! Too dangerous, the cap'n says. Well, by damn, Cap'n, even if I wasn't holdin' my cotton for better prices, I sho' wouldn't want to ship it with you!"

  Adam said, with a little smile, "I didn't say who it was dangerous for."

  Leroy's eyes narrowed. "I say you're afraid to face me fair and square."

  Adam's mind flashed back to dock brawls in London, Tokyo, Bombay. Then it had been learn quick or lose his life. "I'm not going to fight you, Biggs. Save it for the Yankees."

  Andrew said plaintively, "Leroy, ain't you never a-gonna grow up?"

  Gamille tucked her hand under Leroy's arm and gave him a strained smile. "Honey, that was a mighty fine race y'all ran. I'm right proud of you!"

  Leroy glowered at her and shoved her away. The others, embarrassed, covered up the awkward moment. Dulcie and Gay, chattering lightly, took Adam's arms, and they headed back toward the tournament grounds.

  The horn sounded for the rope climb. Jem said, "Now, friends and neighbors, we've got an easy-lookin' little competition here, just a short trip up to that first limb"—^heads went up, up to the sailor's knots in the rope, sixty feet above the ground—"and down. Everybody gets two tries."

  The younger boys went first. As one then another tried and failed to go up the rope, the audience and other contestants became eager to see somebody, anybody climb it. Glenn went higher than anyone before him; then he made the mistake of looking down. Leroy, who had sneered at the failures, was next. Like the others, he had watched the techniques of the better climbers. He pulled himself up until his feet could grip the rope. He went up hand over hand, more and more slowly, then he lost the hold with his feet, panicked, and started the rope to twisting. He slid back down.

  He blew elaborately on his burning hands, spat on them

  while glaring at the circle of watchers, and attacked the rope again. But it buckled and spun out of his grasp. His feet kicking furiously, he whirled until he was dizzy, then fell heavily to the ground. He lay there, then shook his head to clear it. "Whooo-eee!" he crowed. The audience laughed. "Well, I got higher than anybody, so I win."

  "Mind if I take a shot at it?" Adam said, walking past Leroy.

  "You already had your turn!" Leroy yelled.

  Waite cried, "He did not! You're cheatin', Leroy!"

  Leroy smirked. "Let's see what ya got, Cap'n. Mind you don't fall and hurt yo'self."

  There were shouts and some jeers from the audience.

  Adam grasped the rope, failed to catch it with his feet, and dropped back to the ground. The audience moaned its disappointment.

  "You're wastin' yo' time, Cap'n. Let's go to the next event," Leroy said.

  Adam looked at the spectators who crowded around them. "Everybody back now. I'll give it my second try."

  There were hoots and catcalls, and grins on every face.

  He strode up to the rope, examined it carefully, hoisted himself a few feet off the ground, bounced a few times, then hoisted himself up another ten feet. The shirt stretched taut across his powerful back, shoulder muscles working smoothly under the thin fabric. Silence grew as each man stepped back to watch. Adam unhaltingly raised himself thirty feet in the air. The rope stayed meekly still. Forty feet, and not a slip or faltering motion, no sign of fatigue in the muscular arms, no hesitation as he smoothly lifted his weight to fifty feet.

  Dulcie had never seen a man so high off the ground. He pulled himself to the limb, swinging his body over it with ease. With a wave to the astonished spectators gathered like curious ants below him, he came back down the same effortless way.

  Dulcie's heart leaped from her breast as the men, laughing, pounded him on his back, wrung his hand, and congratulated him.

  The Indian wrestling was the last event. Waite was the champion of the youths' division of wrestlers but promptly lost to his cousin Robert. Robert defended the title against several and lost to Lyman. Finally it was Adam defending, Leroy attacking.

  "Two falls out of three," Jem called. The audience, well aware o
f the animosity Leroy had for Adam, stirred and straijied for a better view.

  "Two out of three it is," said Leroy cheerfully, and before Adam knew it, he was oJ5 balance. "One outa three," Leroy crowed.

  Adam was ready for him, and Leroy shifted his foot first.

  "One even, one to go," said Robert, watching closely.

  Adam assumed the position. Leroy said, so low that only Adam could hear, "You an' me's goin' to fight, Cap'n. If you don't, that yella liver o' yours is gonna be hangin' right out fo' Dulcie to take a good look at."

  "Leave her out of this, you stupid animal.'*

  "Oh, no, Cap'n. You been gittin' it in the only girl I ever loved, an' I'm takin' exception to that."

  Adam felt his heart speed up. There were murmurings and restless stirrings in the viewing stand. He said, "You're wrong. Biggs."

  "She let me, Cap'n, so I reckon she's a-lettin' you. How d'you like yo' second-hand goods?"

  Adam's fury nearly blinded him. "Tell Moran to announce the match. I'll fight you. No holds barred."

  Leroy grinned. "My kind o' fight, Cap'n."

  Jem, looking from Adam's white fury to Leroy's mean smile, said, "I don't like this a bit."

  "Your guests should enjoy it, Mr. Moran," Adam said tightly.

  Jem looked at Leroy, then at Adam, taut with suppressed anger. "I guess you've got to get it out of your systems. But I reserve the right to stop this any time I see fit. Agreed?" When they nodded, he warned them, *Then, this will settle it, or I'll throw you both off my plantation."

  Jem's announcement electrified the guests to screaming applause. Some of the servants inched nearer to watch. Claudine clung to 'Polio's arm. Dulcie shrank in her seat Adam hadn't wanted to compete, hadn't wanted any part of this, and she'd told him he ought to. Whatever hatred drove Leroy, it had to be powerful. He'd try to hurt Adam and wouldn't care how he did it.

  Leroy and Adam stood face to face. "Go," said Robert, acting as referee. The two big men circled, taking measure

  of each other. They looked like jungle cats, graceful and ferocious.

  Leroy punched at Adam's mouth. Adam, knees bent slightly, pulled his head back a few inches. Leroy's body tilted forward. With one foot Adam tapped a muscle in Leroy's ankle, and Leroy's feet went out from under him.

  Dulcie sat still, her hand up to her mouth.

  "One fall—^Tremain," Robert intoned loudly.

  "You ain't makin' no fool outa me," Leroy declared. He crouched, then leaped, his right foot shooting out, aiming for Adam's crotch. Adam's back flexed as he caught Leroy's foot and flipped him over. Leroy fell heavily face forward onto the ground. The watchers shouted joyfully.

  "Two falls—Tremain! He wins!"

  Leroy rose, his nose bleeding, sand ground into his skin. Roaring, he charged at Adam, both fists swinging. Blood spurting from his nose and mouth, he came on like a demented bull. Adam dealt him a staggering blow to the belly, then came back with a left that laid Leroy out cold.

  The guests went wild, screaming for Leroy to get up. They surged out of the stand toward the impromptu arena. Adam made his way through the throng unsmiling. He was followed by several contestants. He was deaf to their cheers.

  Dulcie stood to one side. She knew that look and was afraid to meet his eyes. In some way not clear to her, she was the cause of his anger.

  Adam's entourage, mostly youths except for Robert, gradually fell away, realizing their hero had nothing to say to them. As they neared the house, Adam said to Phil, "I'll be back in a few minutes. D'you mind?"

  The boys left, but Robert stayed. "I'm comin* with you, Adam, so if you need to be alone, you're goin* to have to say so."

  Upstairs, Adam quickly stripped and washed in the cool water that was kept on the washstand, while Robert stalked around the room. Finally he turned to Adam, who stood, his muscles tensed, leaning over the basin, clutching the sides of the stand. "What'd Leroy say to you?"

  In one swift motion Adam picked up the washbowl and hurled it, spewing water, across the room until it crashed against the far wall.

  "About Dulcie?" Adam did not answer. After a while Robert said, "She likes to flirt, but that's alL"

  Adam struggled into clean trousers. The room was hot, and his skin was still moist. "I wouldn't know."

  By the time they rejoined the other guests, Adam was polite and outwardly sociable. Only his eyes and the firm set of his jaw betrayed his cold, jealous anger. Whenever Dulcie came near, her golden eyes unwittingly provocative, the hot, searing anger stirred in the frozen pit deep within.

  He left the parlor, where clusters of young people played a variety of games, half-expecting Dulcie to follow him. He paced the grand entrance hall alone, tormenting himself with thoughts of Leroy Biggs and Toby Dobbs and Andrew Whitaker and he didn't know how many other men.

  When she finally came out of the parlor, he was at her side in two long strides. He took her wrist, dragging her into Jem's empty study. He shut the door, leaning against it. Dulcie backed away from him.

  His eyes glittered dangerously. Tightly reined emotion worked on his face, threatening to break loose into violence as he stared at her. He stalked her, his voice low and intent. "Have you ever been with a man—any man?"

  She opened her mouth, horrified and frightened to the core of her being. Her face crumpled. She drew back, slapping him. He grabbed her shoulders. "Answer me, Dulcie!" he rasped. "Answer me!" He began to shake her.

  "No!" she cried. "No! No! No!" Her voice rose on the edge of hysteria. The door opened. Adam stared into Robert's stern face.

  "Go to your room, Dulcie." His eyes were steady on Adam. "Fll see to your guest."

  Dulcie ran to Robert. He gently pushed her toward the door. When she was gone, Robert said, "You should have taken my word. She flirts, that's all. She doesn't even understand why you are so angry."

  Adam stared bleakly at him, the anger drainmg away, leaving only remorse and jealousy to haunt him.

  It was unusually sultry even for Savannah in July. The young ladies were resting, refreshing themselves for the festivities that evening. Quiet fell over Mossrose.

  Dulcie hadn't invited anyone to share her cool room. She was tired of whispers and trivial girlish secrets. She wanted to lie alone on the crisp sheets, her hair unbound. She wanted to languish in the hopeless luxury of dreaming about Adam.

  She stirred restlessly, her voice dull. "Oh, Claudine, Adam will never propose to me. It'll all come to nothin'.'*

  Claudine smoothly changed hands on the heavy fan cord. "He'll come 'round, Miss Dulcie. Ah jes' doan know when."

  "Oh, if it could be true." She grew pensive and flopped back onto the bed, then leaped up to pace the room. "I can't stand bein' closed in here another minute."

  "Wheah you think yo* gwine? You ain't traipsin* aroun' by yo'seff."

  "Please don't fuss at me, Claudine. Come with me."

  Hersel complained, "Miss Dulcie, it's too hot to be takin' bosses out."

  In an excellent imitation of Jem's roar, Dulcie said, "Hersel! Shut your mouth and get me that horse!"

  "She ain't saddled yit."

  "Who cares!" She vaulted onto the horse's back. She laid the whip on Strawberry. They seemed to float ahead of the dust that rose from the red earth. Once she had crossed the pasture, scattering the milk cows, and put the hilly cornfields between herself and the house, she slowed the mare to a walk. She shook her russet hair free and let it ripple down around her shoulders like live flame competing with the sun.

  **You ain't gwine fin' nothin* but trouble feelin' like you is, Miss Dulcie."

  "Don't nag me, Claudine! Shut up and ridel" They trotted through the piney woods, then out into the sunshine, heading for a cool green grove of willow oaks. Dulcie's mood cleared, and she turned to Claudine with a grin. "Why don't we swim? It's a perfect day for it."

  "How you gwine 'splain yo' wet clo's?"

  "I'll swim in my shinmiy. Come on, Claudine, nobody'll see us."

  "Wheah de yoimg ma
stahs be at? Sho' doan wan' 'em catchin' us."

  "Why, they . . ." Dulcie reined in, putting her fingers to her lips. "Are they down at the dam? I thought I heard somethin'."

  Stealthily the two girls crept along the woodland path until they could see the large pool in the small swift-moving creek.

  "Oh, Lawd. You din't oughta look. Dey's mother nekkid."

  Claudine was looking, avidly. Dulcie usurped the small hole in the bushes. She had never seen a man without any clothing on.

  Nearly all the young men were there. They were playing in the water, splashmg and yelling. One or two at a time they scrambled up the sloping bank facing the watching girls, stood poised for a moment, then dived back into the clear depths. Dulcie stood statuelike.

  "Miss Dulcie."

  "Shh!"

  "Ah found a bigger peekyhole iffen you squat down heah."

  Everything that had been obscured by leaves and twigs sprang into view. Once more the war inside her began. Patricia's lifelong teaching waged furious battle with the hot-blooded feelings coursing through her. She fought hard to press the sinful thoughts away. She gasped, "Men without their clothes on look terrible!"

  Claudine giggled softly. "No'm, dey doan. Mastah Andrew dere, he got a middlin' nice body. Lots o' real strong muscle. Mastah Leroy lookin' purty good. Mastah Glenn's real slendah, ain't he?" She stifled a giggle. "Ooh, my, jes' catch a peek at his li'l twiggy thing! 'Taint hardly bigger'n mah thumb! But them's the kin' you wanta watch out fo'. Miss Dulcie, sometimes they puff up nice an' give you a real happy s'prise."

  Dulcie glared at her. "Hush! What do you know about men's things?'*

  "Ah seen a plenty things on black mens an' white mens. Lots o' dem big bulls got li'l horns."

  Dulcie sucked in her breath. Adam Tremain stood on the bank. The midaftemoon sun highlighted his heavy muscles and his smoothly tanned skin, casting soft shadows along the firm planes of his face.