Second Daughter

by Walter, Mildred Pitts;

So far I am well, but I can see that war is not good for the mind. I now understand your not wanting me to go. But remember, I will be home and take you away from there to one hundred acres of our land, and we will begin a new life with Ayisha and Aissa.

  God be with you and ours until I see you again.

  Your husband, Josiah Freeman.

  When John had finished reading the letter, he carefully folded it and handed it to Bett and quietly left.

  “The mistress will hear about this. Will you let her read your letter?” I asked.

  “The mistress is never out of your mind, is she? Why would she want to read my letter?”

  “Why does she want to own us? Will you let her read it?”

  “No.”

  I took the letter and pushed it in between planks in the wall so that it could not be seen. “You can’t read, so what reason is there to keep a letter?”

  The next few days we went about our work with a sense of relief, knowing Josiah was now with the army. With Little Bett now seven years old and in the kitchen helping Nance and doing the chores that were once mine, I spent more time in the fields. Late evenings we worked at Bett’s place and planted crops there. Little Bett was calm, an even-tempered child like her mother, and did not often raise the mistress’s ire.

  Early one morning as we were about to go to the master’s field, the mistress summoned Bett. I went ahead. The sun was already giving a warning of a hot day. My long dress was not at all comfortable in this work. I often thought how nice it would be if we could wear pants. Men had everything made easier for them. If I were a man, I thought, I’d be in Boston where the ships come and go. Far away from this place—gone to where Baaba and Yaaye came from.

  I had not seen Bett until she was right upon me. I knew she was angry and upset. “Now what?” I asked.

  “John told about the letter. The mistress said she’d waited for me to come and tell her, or the master, about it. Why hadn’t I come?”

  “Why did John tell?”

  “He had to. I don’t blame John. I knew he’d tell. And I told her that with John’s telling, there was no need for me.”

  “Was she angry?”

  “She’s always angry. She demanded to see the letter. I told her I didn’t have it. She ranted and raged and said I had better get it and bring it to her or I would be severely punished. Then, Aissa, I remembered what you’d said. ‘I can’t read,’ I said, ‘so why would I keep a letter?’ She called me a liar and said she would find it. ‘Get to the field!’ she shouted. So I’m here.”

  I was frightened for Bett. What would the mistress do? I wondered.

  That night when we went to our room, we found it in shambles. The mattress was off the bed, covers scattered all about. Our belongings were all over the room. Bett’s herbs were spilled, all mixed together. I had never known feelings of such humiliation and shame. I looked at Bett and for the first time our eyes could not hold. We both lowered our heads. I was surprised that of all the feelings that rushed over me, anger was not one. Helplessness and anger do not go together.

  We did not speak but we both went to the wall. The letter was still there. We burst out laughing. We laughed until tears rolled down our cheeks. In our defeat we had won.

  19

  The mistress punished Bett. She would not let her away from the place day or night. With all the leaves and roots of the herbs mixed together, there was no medicine for Bett to use, and being watched so closely, she could not go into the forest to collect what she needed. Although the mistress was angry, and refused to let Bett see others, she still had Bett do the most personal things: comb her hair, help her dress for her outings, and serve her meals when she ate alone.

  It was Bett’s duty to go through the mistress’s clothes to find what needed mending or restyling. Mistress Anna Ashley gave away few clothes. Of course, neither Bett, Nance, nor I could wear her things. Sarah could, and often Sarah was called to do the mending and restyling for a small fee and a worn garment.

  We had not seen Sarah for a long time. With the shortages of men and of food and other supplies, we had few get-togethers on our rare days off. There had been no Christmas parties, and the one day off for the New Year had been spent on the place. So when Sarah came to sew for the mistress, we were all very happy to see her.

  When Josiah chose Bett for his wife, Sarah was jealous. But soon after Sarah was married, her feelings of jealousy had disappeared. She became a friend again. We were all having breakfast together the morning she arrived. Brom greeted her politely, but the rest of us shouted and laughed, hugged her, and set a place for her at the table.

  We felt lucky to have someone bring us news from the free Africans in the area. Sarah told us that many of the men had gone to war, many for the British. Bett told Sarah about the letter from Josiah and seemed proud that he had decided to fight on the side of the Colonials. When Sarah heard that the mistress had destroyed all of Bett’s herbs, she told us about an Indian woman who might be willing to share some that she had.

  “How will I get to her? I can’t go anywhere. Not even to my house and farm.”

  “Oh, you would have to go. She would have to see you and talk with you to be sure you were the right person. Not just anybody is trusted with their medicines.”

  “The invisible spirits will find uh way tuh wing you dere,” Nance said. “Will it, and de way’ll be dere.”

  Bett, Brom, and I went with the others to the field, leaving Nance and Little Bett to their house chores and Sarah to her sewing. We sang along the way passing the cobble, the rocks that seemed all the more white under the blue skies. Ashley Falls roared in the valley, which was carpeted with flowers in bloom.

  We worked on the far end of the farm near the dense forest. With the shortage of men, there was no one to supervise our work. Sometimes the master appeared late in the day and sometimes Little John might ride through with his friends to see how things were going. Suddenly, I had an idea. “Bett, why don’t you go and gather herbs?”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “How will the mistress know? Who’s there to tell? We’ll do enough work so that you’ll not be missed.”

  In the middle of the day we took little time to eat our bread and berries and to drink from the pail, for we wanted to make sure we did Bett’s work and ours. When the darkness from the forest spread outward and made shadows on the hills, my sister returned. She carried a bark basket on her head with one hand and in the other she held her head scarf tied around leaves and roots.

  “How did you ever gather so many in such a short time?” I asked.

  “You’ll not believe this. The forest was so peaceful that my mind didn’t stray from my purpose. My eyes saw everything clearly, and I was busy digging when suddenly right upon me was this tall bronze man as straight as a strong young spruce. He wore white leather pants and shirt and a band of beads around his head. Strangely, I had no fear and I smiled at him and said, ‘The peace here is still undisturbed.’

  “He knows Josiah and was pleased to hear I’m his wife. Then, as if out of nowhere, this woman appears. She, too, is tall and straight as an arrow. Her wrinkled skin, brown as a walnut, and her round black eyes marked her as one with wisdom. Immediately, I thought of Olubunmi.”

  Suddenly my chest and throat filled with the tears that would not flow, and I was glad that my sister did not notice as she went on with her story.

  “She spoke her native tongue to her son and he asked me who was I and why was I in the forest. I told her my name and to whom I belong. I assured them I was alone. That I was there to gather herbs for healing. She asked questions of me through her son. What was I looking for? How did I use it? She always smiled when her son responded. Where had I learned? I told her all about Olubunmi and how she had taught me all I know.”

  “Did she show you anything new?”

  From the bark basket Bett took a yellow-brown rooted plant with hollow stems that held about fourteen leaflets with sawlike notches along the
edges. The rose-colored flowers were small, close together in a flat-topped cluster. The fragrance? I could not describe how wonderful.

  “She told me how to use it, but her son had no way to tell me the name in our language. Then she helped me gather all of the things I needed to replace my supply. That’s why I was able to get so much in such a short time.”

  I looked at the well-made basket and knew it was a gift from one healer to another, and I felt a bit ashamed that I had not given the right respect to my sister.

  Finally the mistress forgot about the letter, and Bett and I were able to go to the farm. We had expected the place to be overgrown, the animals to be either dead or lost, but to our surprise, things were not as bad as we had thought they would be.

  We found the goats in the woods, the chickens thinner but in place, and the weeds not unbearable. So, in time, things were back to normal. If only the master would grant us just one day to work for ourselves.

  20

  The war kept the master and his friends busy with planning and scheming how to get more men for the Continental Army. Bett, again, found herself always rushing between her regular chores and keeping the master’s company satisfied in the upstairs room. Not only did they deal with the demands of the war, but they were also writing a constitution for their state, Massachusetts.

  Bett was often ill-tempered. “I am beginning to understand what Josiah and Grippy meant about how these people make a difference between laws that have to do with people and those that have to do with property. The rights of the people will not be decided by all of the people, but only by those who own property.”

  I listened, but I didn’t care about their laws. I was worried about Nance, who was not at all well. And about Josiah. We hadn’t heard from him in a long time. We didn’t know whether he was dead or alive. The only thing we heard was that the Africans in the war could not sign up for just three months; they had to sign up for the duration. Josiah had been gone now for more than a year and we had received only one letter.

  “Aissa,” Bett said, “I heard them talking about raising money for the families of soldiers in the war. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  “You think the master will let you have your share?”

  “I don’t know, but they seem to be concerned more than other colonies. And they are angry, too. They’re doing more and getting less credit. They don’t like that General Washington. They wanted somebody named John Hancock, but their own representative there in Philadelphia, John Adams, chose Washington.”

  “I don’t want to hear that. The only soldier I want to hear about is Josiah.”

  Bett rushed from the room, leaving me and Little Bett alone in the darkness. I knew I had hurt her feelings. She always refused to talk about things that might let me know that she had feelings like the rest of us.

  The next time I was sent into the main street for oil, candles, and other items for the house, I saw men marching up and down with guns practicing for war. Some as young as fifteen. I heard they had to have their own guns. Some of them had big rifles, and others had what appeared to be guns for shooting birds. Little John told his father that he wanted to sign up, but the mistress would hear nothing of that. She would buy him a replacement first.

  There was some excitement in the house one day when Little John walked in with a young man about his own age. The two were having lively talk and I could tell the friend was not a gentleman’s son. The mistress was sitting in the room and when she heard the chatter, she stood. John was sort of taken back with surprise, but the other young man stood smiling, waiting, I thought, for John to say something.

  “Don’t stand there with your cap on like the ruffian you are. Remove your cap in my presence,” the mistress said, coldly.

  The young man, confused, stood with a look of disbelief on his face, then he jerked the cap from his head, leaving his hair untidy. Finally John said, “Mother, this is Simon. He will be going to war soon. I want him to see my guns. Come with me, Simon.” John spoke as if the outburst had not occurred.

  “I must be on my way,” Simon said, squaring his shoulders. “I feel I’d be intruding if I stayed. But thank you anyway. Maybe I’ll see your guns in battle.” He stuffed his cap back on his head and was about to leave the room.

  “Wait,” the mistress said. “I will give you sixty pounds if you will agree to take John’s place in the service.”

  “Sixty pounds?”

  “His father will add more, I am sure, if that is not enough.”

  “Enough for what?” the master said as he walked into the room.

  “This young man is willing to take John’s place in service.”

  “And who said John’s place is for sale?” the master asked. “Is this your doing, John?”

  “I brought him here to see my guns because he is off soon. It’s not my idea.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Simon said. “There’s a mistake. I’m going in my own place.” He hurried off.

  “John,” the master said, “you are excused.” After John left, the master said to the mistress, “Why did you assume John will not do his duty as a soldier when it is time?”

  “Because I don’t want him to,” she cried.

  “It’s not left up to you, or to me. It is strictly his decision and I don’t want you to interfere. Is that clear?”

  I soon left the house for chores away from the mistress, for I knew she was angry at the master and my very presence could easily spark a violent storm.

  Nance got no better, and when Sarah came in for sewing she helped Nance with the cooking. Sarah did the strenuous things like kneading bread and lifting heavy pans out of the oven. Her news was sad. More and more men were joining the service, including Agrippa.

  That year, 1778, we had an early fall and the days were cold and damp. With few men to harvest the fields and orchards, the mistress and the girls had to help. The mistress did no picking; she took the pails back and forth to the cart that held the picked fruit. I was surprised to see that she was getting older and still she hadn’t learned to control her temper.

  Though Nance had been coughing and had a fever, she had to come into the orchard to help pick the fruit. I tried to work close to her and put fruit in her pail so that the mistress would not complain. I was off at the cart with a pail of pickings and when I returned, Nance had fallen, facedown, and could not get up.

  “Come, boy,” the mistress called to Brom. “Take her to her quarters and hurry back to work.”

  “I’ll go with her to see that she’s all right,” Bett said.

  “She’ll be fine. We must get this fruit picked.”

  “Mother,” Mary said, alarmed. “I’ll go with her.”

  “You will do no such thing. I am sure she’ll be all right.”

  It was late when we returned to our room. Immediately we went to see about Nance. She was unable to talk, but groaned as if in great pain. Bett went for the master. When he saw Nance he said, “Why have you waited so long to tell me she was sick?”

  “When she fell in the orchard, the mistress said she’d be all right and that I must keep working.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Just before midday meal.”

  He sighed deeply. “A doctor could have been called then. I’ll have to wait until morning now.”

  We sat all night. Just before the cock crowed, Nance became quiet and I fell asleep. Day was dawning when Bett awoke me. “Nance is dead,” she said.

  “She can’t be. She can’t leave us now.” I began to cry.

  “Aissa, don’t. Let her spirit depart in peace. For sure, Nance is now free. Let us rejoice in her freedom.”

  I could not rejoice. I could only feel angry that nothing had been done to make sure that nothing could be done.

  Nance’s funeral was held in the early evening on a warm autumn day so that other slaves could come after their work. The mistress gave Bett cotton to make a winding sheet and the master provided a coffin. The men brought wood to make torc
hes to lighten the dark. A friend, Felix Cato, who was also a Methodist preacher, was asked to do the service.

  We all met around the coffin that lay on a trestle in front of the building where we lived. Only Mary came from the house. She stood with us, a small figure, her fair hair falling to her shoulders, and listened silently as we all lifted our voices in a hymn. When the prayer was said, we knelt in the soft grass and sand. At first Mary seemed uncertain, then she sank to her knees.

  Minister Felix closed his prayer with a blessing upon the master and mistress and upon the little mistress who had graced us with her presence.

  I glanced at Mary. Her head was lowered, her face and neck scarlet, and tears were beginning to flow. In this act of facing God, did she accept us as equals? The full moon hung golden on the horizon as we walked to the small plot where slaves were buried, under the sound of those words that assured us that there was a resurrection and life, and those who died would live again. After prayer and song at the grave, Minister Felix said a few words, once more assuring us that Nance would live again. “Didn’t God raise Lazarus from the dead?” he asked in his deep, spellbinding voice. “Then why not our sister, Nance?”

  It was not until the body was lowered into the ground that we all sensed our loss and poured out our grief in cries and lamentations, Little Bett most piteously. My sister stood dry-eyed and Mary looked amazed and a little frightened at our outcry, but she stayed until we were all ready to walk back.

  Mary walked alone ahead of us and went directly home. For a few minutes we stood about while Bett expressed our thanks to all for coming. The full moon was now a cold white light as we said good-bye to our friends and went to our room.

  We quietly undressed and while we were saying our prayers, Bett broke down and cried. “Oh, if only there was someone I could turn to who’ll be there.”

  I wanted to take her in my arms and assure her that she could turn to me. I was there for her, but I could not move, and the moment was lost forever.

  21

  After Nance’s death, the mistress tried to make a cook out of Bett. Bett had never been a kitchen person. She was always lady’s maid, housekeeper, errand-runner, plus assistant to the master. I was at my best alone, outside in the field. The master often came by and looked at my work. My rows were straight and always shaped so that the water settled to nourish the roots. I made ditches nearby to hold water that could be used when we had a dry spell. He noticed, but never said anything. Where I worked, the yield was better. I knew if I had owned land, I would have been a good farmer.