by James Fearn
Mr Godbehere read the clerk’s letter of introduction and immediately showed interest in the young people. ‘Ah can see y’ve come from Australia. Ah’ve bin out there. Great frontier country! Sheep oughta do well.’
‘That’s right’, said John. ‘Anna and I have spent some time on the goldfields, but were hoping for a better life here and want to raise a family too.’ John nodded in the direction of his pregnant wife. ‘He’s not afraid of hard work, my John’, put in Anna. ‘Goodness, the hours he spent digging and sifting for gold . . . and with such little reward’, she said with downcast eyes. ‘It was enough to break any man’s spirit.’
‘So, y’re lookin’ for job, are y’? Well, as it happens, Ah could use another hand around ’ere. Ah’m gettin’ on a bit an’ Ah need someone to help me manage the place.’ He spoke with a touch of disappointment in his voice. John and Anna were to discover the implications of this comment quite soon. ‘Ah’ll make y’ a deal. Two dollars a week plus keep for you and y’re missus,’ said Jesse recognising a good worker when he saw one. ‘Y’ can ’ave a room o’ y’re own in the servants’ quarters. What do y’ say?’ Anna turned to John and smiled approvingly.
Suddenly, the sound of a horse’s hoofs on the gravel pathway in front of the house interrupted their discussion. The planter looked out of the window and expressed his pleasure at the imminent arrival of Peter Moss, Master of one of the larger plantations in the district. Excusing himself, he strode to the front door and opened it before the visitor had time to dismount. The two men remained outside for some time deep in serious discussion. After five minutes, Jesse turned abruptly towards the front door and beckoned to Peter to come in with him. ‘We’ve got some noo arrivals in town Ah think y’ oughta meet.’ Moss followed his friend into the vestibule, handing his large hat and riding gloves to the black girl standing near the door.
‘Peter, this is John and Anna Francis. They’ve come from Australia an’ wanna work ’ere with us,’ announced Jesse. ‘Francis, eh? Welcome t’ De Soto County,’ Moss responded, emitting a shrill whistle on each of his sibilants. ‘Ah hear wool’s goin’ well down under.’
‘Molly, will y’ please show these folks t’ the spare room in y’re quarters’, said the Master. John and Anna thanked their new boss and followed Molly out into the vestibule.
Jesse and Mary Godbehere had raised three sons, two of whom now lived in other parts of the state. The unmarried youngest son, Charles lived on the plantation. But he was something of a wastrel and was of little use to his father in the administration of the property, preferring a dissipated life of unrestrained leisure. It was always a great disappointment to Jesse that his son had succumbed to the lure of corn liquor and loose women in his late teens. Indeed there were times, when the older man was so ashamed of his son’s actions that he had threatened to write Charles out of his will. This had provoked considerable animosity between them.
Molly and her husband, Moses, and the older black members of the household lived in simple quarters at the back of the house. Anna struck up a rapport with Molly immediately and being of a similar age had quite a lot in common despite their radically different backgrounds.
Arriving at the spare room, Anna addressed the slave girl. ‘Tell me, Molly, what’s Mr Godbehere like as a master?’ Molly’s face lit up as if Anna had inquired about her father. ‘Oh! He’s a kind man. All of us darkies loves ’im,’ she replied. ‘We’d do anything for Massa Godbehere.’
‘And your husband, what does he do on the farm, Molly?’ asked John. ‘Moses works around de farm mindin’ de cotton and de pigs, Massa,’ she answered. ‘You want to learn ’bout all that?’ She looked incredulously at John, and shrugging her shoulders began to walk away.
‘Just a moment’, said Anna. ‘Tell us about your life on the plantation.’ Anna was intrigued as Molly told them a little about her life as a slave. Anna found it very hard to come to terms with what she was hearing. He she was talking to one of the enslaved people of the south who was expressing affection for her owner. What kind of crazy morality was this? John was pondering it too when his attention was suddenly taken by the view out of the window.
It had been a long day, and Anna, now seven months pregnant, lay down upon the bed to rest. ‘Just look at that. He must have about forty acres of cotton out there,’ said John. He could just make out the distant form of a black man, his sweaty torso gleaming in the sunshine.
‘Is that your husband out there, Molly?’ asked John. ‘Sure is! Dat’s ma man, Moses’, said Molly. ‘Now dare’s a good man if eber God made one,’ she said with a gleam of pride in her eyes. ‘He works out dare in de blazin’ sun, bendin’ and pushin’, liftin’ and heavin’, an’ den ’e comes ’ome at night an’ helps me roun’ de ’ouse. Darned ef Ah knows where ’e gets de energy.’
That evening John and Anna took their places at the large kitchen table for the evening meal. At the head of the table sat Moses, the senior male of the slave household with his wife of two years, Molly on his left. Five other slaves, three young women and two youths sat at the table. Moses welcomed ’De white folks who ’ad come to work on de farm with us.’ Then he bowed his head to give thanks for the food.
‘Oh Lord, we shure grateful for all y’re goodness t’us ’specially for dis food. Give us y’re blessin’ t’night, Lord, an’ de strength t’ work t’morrer. Amen.’ Amens echoed all around the table.
The meal of boiled pork and beans, cabbage and potato, was bland but nourishing. Anna felt a little uncomfortable as the dark brown eyes of the younger slaves stared at her and her husband as if to say, ‘What’s your business here?’ They both found it almost impossible to read the faces of those that sat at table with them. Were they resentful at having to share their table with white people? Distrustful? Apprehensive? How did such enslaved people think, anyway? Were they as ignorant and unteachable as tradition would have it?
‘Molly’s bin tellin’ me you folks is from Australia,’ said Moses. Of all those around the table, he seemed the most relaxed and accepting of the whites eating with them. The younger slaves sat wide-eyed as John with typical hyperbole described the long journey from the land away down near the bottom of the Earth. He told them of the strange place where some people had found lumps of gold as big as your fist lying on the ground, of the land where it was very hot at Christmas time, and where trees with little yellow balls of fluff grow in the forest. He told them stories of the strange animals, which carry their babies in little pouches and which hop across the grassy fields in giant leaps.
‘Ah’ve heard o’ dat place’, interrupted Moses. ’Dey got colored folks dare too ain’t dey?’ John seized upon this point of contact and amazed his hearers with an account of how the aboriginal people of Australia can throw wooden sticks that curve in the air and return to the throwers.
‘One day’, he said, ‘I saw a black man carrying his spear and his boomerang, and stalking a kangaroo. Then with a flick of his arm, he threw the boomerang spinning in the air. Its path through the air curved around a large tree and struck the kangaroo behind the right ear. The creature fell kicking to the ground.’ John’s wide-opened eyes and dramatic voice and gestures held the youngsters in wrapt attention.
‘Did ’e eat it?’ queried Molly. ‘Well, he dragged it back through the forest to his camp. There the whole tribe gathered around as he skinned it and prepared it for cooking,’ said John.
One of the younger slaves grimaced at the thought of eating a creature that hopped everywhere. But John put her at ease by saying that the meat was very good to eat and that they would enjoy it.
Recognising that John was beginning to build good relationships with the slaves by telling them stories Anna began to tell of the wonderful rock paintings that she had seen in the Australian caves. ‘These’, she explained, ‘had been painted on the cave walls by black Australians many thousands of years ago well before the white folks had gone there to live. The
y are the original Australians you know.’
As the evening wore on, it became apparent that the openness and friendliness that John and Anna had shown to the willing audience had broken down many of the barriers. As they went to their cabins, the slaves shook hands with their new friends and smiled broadly.
‘John’, said Anna. ‘I wonder if any of these people can read?’
‘I doubt it,’ replied John. ‘They’re no sooner weaned than they go out into the fields on their mothers’ backs. It’s straight from the cradle to the workplace, I’d say.’
‘Well, if they’re willing to learn, I’d like to teach them,’ said Anna with all of the conviction of a woman on a mission. Thus it was that Moses and Molly were taught the basics of literacy. Every evening for an hour or so they would sit with Anna until after several months they could write a simple sentence of their own construction and read the stories that Anna would write for them. They could even read the stories of Jesus in the Bible although St. Paul’s letters made no sense at all. This and other acts of kindness sealed a warm friendship between Moses and Molly and the two Australians.
Cotton farming was a highly labour-intensive industry and success demanded much from those who practised it. For the whole season, numerous tasks demanded long hours of labour from the farmhands and their overseers. Prior to ploughing at the end of the fall, tillage operations were conducted to dispose of the stalks and weeds of the previous crop. Following the short but sometimes severe winter, the fields were fertilised by hand with cotton seed meal, dried blood, and fish scraps. As soon as the period of frosts was past, seed planting was commenced, and after several weeks, the back-breaking work of the thinning of the seedlings started.
Between the rows of cotton or maize, Jesse Godbehere liked to plant groundnuts and cowpeas as fodder for the pigs, which returned excellent nutrient to the soil. Watering and weeding throughout the hot summer months culminated in the harvest. The cotton seed could not be detached from the boll by a straight pull, but required a twist of the wrist as it was removed and deposited in a heavy duck bag slung over the shoulder. A ten-hour day would leave even the strongest of the slaves near exhaustion.
As overseer, John administered the day-to-day farming operations and was responsible to see that the slaves’ time was profitably occupied. On some plantations, bonuses were paid to overseers in proportion to the productivity of the farm. As a consequence, the slaves were often treated unmercifully by their overseers with excessively long hours of work and lashings for any hints of indolence or misdemeanour. By such standards, John was easy-going, preferring to offer performance incentives in the form of free time rather than retribution for slackness. The carrot would always prove more efficacious than the stick.
Jesse Godbehere’s farm soon earned a reputation for its good morale and high productivity. Jesse’s neighbours were quite amazed at the change that had taken place on his plantation since John’s appointment as overseer. They had been critical of the apparent lack of interest that Charles had taken in the property, spending more time socialising than working. They regarded Jesse as a good stout citizen and were pleased that at last he had good support in the management of his farm.
John had little time for Charles, whose lifestyle reminded him of a life he had long since rejected as hollow and parasitic. Neither did the growing reputation of the newcomer endear John to Charles who saw him as a threat to his own position on the farm. There were occasions when overt animosity was apparent.
‘Isn’t this a beautiful place, John?’ said Anna as they strolled by the nearby bayou one summer’s evening. The air was laden with the aroma of the Magnolias, which were in full bloom. The Bald Cypress trees and the long grasses provided an idyllic setting for the young couple as they stood hand in hand, watching their reflections in the water.
‘Yes’, replied John pensively, ‘provided you don’t look too far below the surface.’
Anna turned and looked at her husband. ‘Don’t be so pessimistic, John. We’re beginning to settle here. You’ve got a good job. We like these people, and they seem to like us.’
‘All except Charles Godbehere,’ he quipped. ‘Oh, John, don’t be awful!’ she chided.
‘Yes, it’s a lovely place, Anna. But it’s deceptive. Louisiana looks so stable and so peaceful on the surface. But it’s like a resting volcano. There are hidden pressures and tensions that could so easily erupt.’
They came to a narrow bridge over the bayou and had proceeded about twenty paces over it when Charles and one of his women friends appeared at the far end. Both were considerably the worse for wear with corn liquor and their dishevelled appearance and noisy uncouth conversation suggested a day of carousing for which Charles had a justified reputation.
‘Shtand ashide, Francish!’ he yelled as he lurched unsteadily on to the bridge.
Anna clutched at John’s arm fearful that he might act impetuously. She had never seen Charles Godbehere in such an aggressive mood before.
‘Not so, Charles! We are halfway across while you have only just set foot on the bridge,’ responded John in assured tones. ‘Let us pass, please.’
‘Thish bridge is Godbehere property, and Charles and I’ll cross first,’ yelled the girl in slurred defiance.
‘Come on, John. Let’s go back home. We don’t want to cause trouble with Charles,’ urged Anna.
‘Anna!’ said John forcefully. ‘If we back down on a trivial matter like who crosses the bridge first we’ll always be under his heel. We were here first. We’ll cross first.’
The two couples met face-to-face on the bridge neither of the men prepared to give way. Anna was disgusted when she saw at close quarters the disreputable drunken state of Charles and his woman. Neither could walk without one supporting the other and the swaying bridge exacerbated their instability.
‘Y’all think yer shmart, don’t yer! Ah can see what yer fixin’ to do. Y’all want me out o’ me inheritansh. Shtand ashide,’ shouted Charles, his bloodshot eyes blazing with hatred.
With that he swung a blow at John with his clenched fist. Leaning backward to avoid contact John felt the rust of air as the fist flew past his jaw. Losing his precarious balance Charles grabbed the girl and both toppled ignominiously into the water below. At that point, the bayou was barely two feet deep. Swearing and cursing the sodden and somewhat-sobered pair struggled to the bank. By this time, John and Anna had completed their crossing and were walking briskly back to the house.
News travels fast in small communities, and it took less than a day for the story of how the newcomer from Australia had tipped Charles Godbehere into the bayou. Not that people objected. It was about time someone had the gumption to teach the arrogant young puppy a lesson.
Next morning Jesse called John and Moses to his study. The overseer and the senior slave had become good friends and worked well as a team, a fact not lost on Jesse Godbehere. Moses recognised John’s authority over him as one of responsibility not ownership. But although Jesse has always treated Moses in a fair and kindly manner, the slave had always responded to his master with great deference, a vestige of his early conditioning.
‘John, Ah’ve bin thinkin’, said Jesse. ‘Now that y’ve settled in as overseer we can prob’ly develop some o’ that forest land at the bottom o’ the property. There’s twenty acres or so down there an’ we could put half of it under cotton next season if we clear it after the comin’ harvest.’ John’s first reaction was one of apprehension. He had reckoned that Godbehere’s plantation was really undermanned as it was. But Jesse’s next comment eased his mind. ‘Ah think we’re gonna need a few more slaves t’ work it, don’t you?’
Moses stood silently while the two white men discussed the proposition. ‘Where do you usually get your workers?’ queried John. He avoided using the word slave. It grated on his sensitivities and would no doubt have been irksome to Moses.
‘There’s a good
market in New Orleans’, responded Jesse. Moses winced as he remembered his own experience as a slave purchase some three years earlier at that same degrading place. ‘We could ride over t’ Smithport an’ take the river steamer down the Mississippi. It’s a five-day roun’ trip, but y’d find it interestin’.’ John wondered whether he could stomach the idea of visiting a slave market. He felt that he might be about to experience the darker side of his decision to emigrate from Australia.
Turning to Moses, the planter said, ‘You can take charge here for a few days, Moses.’ It was not unusual for plantation owners or overseers to leave a trusted senior slave in charge of the farm for a short period particularly on those properties where good relations existed between the Master and his slaves. ‘Yas, Massa!’ replied Moses. ‘Done then. We’ll go next Monday John,’ said Jesse in his usual decisive manner.
The discussion was suddenly terminated by an urgent banging at the door of the study. Uncharacteristically Molly burst in. ‘Excuse me, Massa! But Mrs Anna’s babby’s comin’ an’ we all need de midwife quick!’ Without excusing himself, John rushed from the room to the stables leapt upon his horse and galloped off to fetch Mrs Gillespie, the local midwife. His mind flashed back to a similar situation on the goldfields, and he prayed that this midwife would prove to be more reliable. But this time, there were no such problems and within minutes John and the side-saddled Mrs Gillespie arrived at the farm.
Dismounting, they hurried towards Anna’s room and were greeted by the shrill cries of a newborn babe. John burst into the room. There on the bed lay a tired-looking Anna clutching a tiny bundle to her breast while Molly stood beaming at the foot of the bed. So much for Mrs Gillespie.
‘It’s a little girl’, said Anna proudly. John bent over and kissed her warmly before turning to admire his daughter. He took the little one gently in his arms stood up to his full height and announced, ‘We will shall call her Anola Mary, and she will be a joy to us forever.’