by Sienna Brown
‘Why you think bout that?’ I ask. Watch as him struggle to tell me.
‘Massa catch me.’
‘Catch you? Catch you doing what?’
‘Catch me drawing.’
‘Him give you a good beating?’
‘No,’ James say. ‘Him just take away the paper. Look pon it. Look pon it a long time.’
‘Tell you him going beat you, if him catch you doing it again?’
‘No. Him say nothing. Turn him back and walk away.’
Is one strange business, this. I stop walking. Look him in the eyes like Stella, like Calla, done to me.
‘Promise me, James. No more drawing business.’
‘Why I must stop drawing? Why?’
‘Don’t act stupid!’ grabbing him by the shoulders. ‘Drawing not meant for the likes of you and me.’
James hang him head, tears trickling down him face. ‘But I love it,’ he say, and I can hear the torment in him voice. ‘Make me feel good. Make me forget me born a slave.’
James not as strong as me, as Stella, as Sammy. Him have a tender streak. If we not careful, don’t watch out for him, him going get crushed like the cane stalks up in the mill.
Trying to cheer him up. ‘Race you to that crab wood,’ I say.
And then we both start running, like some rolling calf duppie with him big fiery eyes chasing after us.
Visitors
All the oil lamps burning in the Great House. Massa cousin them coming from the Mother Country to visit Rock Pleasant and is all anybody can talk bout. Is the first time we have visitors from cross the seas. It cause Stella plenty upset because Mistress Margaret turn hawk, checking on every little thing she do. Mean Stella snake rear up and she strike left, right, centre, even the extra slave girls she bring in from the fields to help clean and scrub the Great House from top to bottom. Can’t stop work till all the silver them shining like the sun. And every night Stella stay up late making new curtains, sewing cushion covers, to ‘brighten the place up’.
Inside the kitchen, Melon all a-flutter. She have a few extra helpers scrubbing floors and ovens, cleaning up the fireplace where she hang the boiling pots, and she slapping and bossing all of them round just like Stella. Poor Mary, she make her scrub all the pots and pans over and over again till them look brand new. Mistress Margaret been coming down on her too. Most times she know to stay out of Melon kitchen, but since the news reach us bout them cousins, she in and out like she know how to cook.
‘Stupid woman. Get in’a me way,’ Melon muttering. ‘She not know pot from pan. Yam from sweet potato. If she not leave tings alone, me going sit right down, not move a finga.’
Finally the big day arrive. And what a whole heap of ruckus Massa family cause when them drive through the entrance to the plantation in them fancy carriage, till them drive back the way they came. Nothing but a whole heap of ruckus!
Is Massa first cousin on Old Massa William side. Master Jack and Mistress Caroline, same blood, but they talk, walk, act different, look at the world through different eyes. Skin pale like the colour of milk. They even bring two white servants with them from the Mother Country to help them dress when they wake, help them put on night clothes when them ready for sleep. Is funny. Massa don’t need nobody to dress him. And every time Master and Mistress look pon us, they don’t know which way to turn.
Not that many visitors come to Rock Pleasant, mostly Massa men friends, so when the cousin them arrive, everybody try find some excuse to come up to the Great House. And after the looking, gossip ride up and down the plantation, till the story come round again, get much bigger in the telling. When it come to gossip, I don’t bother listen though. The only person I trust is Calla.
‘Massa run the plantation. Yes, is true. But him only own half of it. The cousin dem? They own the rest of it. Most of the money Massa make, it get sent to the cousin dem who live cross the seas.’
First few days, Master Jack and Mistress Caroline stay close to the Great House, resting after them long journey. Sometimes sit on the front verandah drinking lemonade, eating Melon plantain tarts. Walk in the garden, servants trailing behind. Mistress Caroline have them fill up every room in the Great House with only roses, Stella tell me.
A few more days pass before Massa take Master Jack out to the canefield them to see how things get run. Watch the field slaves dig up the earth, plant the young cane shoots. Flinch every time Winston crack him whip. And even though is not crop season, Massa take him up to the cattle mill. Show him where they crush the cane, boil up the juice, dry, pack the sugar in barrels. Master Jack come back from one of them visits and tell Massa how impressed he is with the whole operation. Make Massa feel proud, put a smile on him face.
Mistress Caroline refuse to go. She want no part of them canefield them. She stay back at the Great House, spend most of the day inside, with the shutters closed, waiting for the heat to drop. Must make Mistress Margaret happy now she have somebody to sit and read with. Stella tell me the woman servant do her bidding, just like a slave. Run up, down, fetch any little thing Mistress Caroline need. In the late afternoon, she and Mistress Margaret move to the back verandah, hoping to catch the little breeze that sometimes flow up from the valley. Sit fanning and talking till the twilight set in, till the mosquitoes come round, till Stella enter the parlour to light all the candle them to make it ready for evening drinks.
One morning, Mistress Caroline tell Massa she want to go riding. Seem like she do a lot of riding on the country estate back in the Mother Country and she missing it. I guess she probably want to get away from listening to Mistress Margaret complain all day. Massa decide him going take the cousin them on a picnic, to a place down by the river where Massa and Mistress Margaret used to go when Old Massa William was alive. That way, them can ‘get a feel for the lay of the island’, him say.
I spend the day cleaning up the bush, cutting it back to make a path down to the river while they all out riding. When Massa, Mistress Margaret and the cousin them come back, I lead the horses away to graze. Help the servants put out all the food and drink on a lilywhite tablecloth under the shade of a big old silk-cotton tree. Sit watching and waiting for lunch to finish hoping I can get a little something from what leave-over.
And it come like the old days, when I was a pickney and would listen in on all the stories, run them round and round in me mind, storing them high up in the old breadfruit tree.
‘The girl who helps Melon in the kitchen? That’s Mary,’ I hear Massa say, answering Mistress Caroline question bout who every body is. ‘She scrubs the pots and pans. Feeds the dogs, but sometimes forgets and Mother has to scold her.’
‘Oh, Cargill,’ Mistress Margaret say, tapping Massa shoulder with her fan. ‘She’s just a little slow in the head, that’s all. She used to sing. She’d sing all the time,’ she say, before holding up the pitcher and asking, ‘More ginger beer?’
Me and the servants look plenty hopeful at that pitcher of ginger beer.
‘It’s so very refreshing, I insist you have another glass,’ Mistress Margaret say, and she go ahead fill them cousin glasses to the brim. ‘We grow it ourselves, you know. Melon grates the ginger, makes it fresh. I’ve instructed her to teach Mary. Melon’s tried and tried, but poor Mary. All she’s good for is pot scrubbing,’ Mistress Margaret say, shrugging her shoulders. The cousin them nod and smile. Take a little sip before quickly helping themselves to more claret. ‘She does have a sweet voice, though. We have her sing for us on special occasions, when we have visitors.’ Leaning in close like she sharing a secret. ‘Special visitors. We’ll make her sing for you tonight.’
What wrong with Mistress Margaret? Must be that ginger beer. Sometimes Melon put a splash of rum in it. Maybe she put a little too much this time.
‘Gave birth to a healthy baby boy, though. We called him Thomas, after my dear departed brother.’ Then Mistress Margaret fan herself with her kerchief, look like she going cry. ‘Diphtheria. Lost him very quickly.’
Ba
by Tom-Tom is what we call him. Too many of us been named after this long-dead brother. How come Mistress Margaret don’t tell the cousins bout how Mary get used by Massa men friend, and nobody know which one is the father. How it take a long time before she start sing again. And some days, not a sound pass her lips. Problem is, Mary love baby Tom-Tom too much. Is going be plenty trouble when him grow a little bigger and she have to give him up. Start him life of slavery.
‘And there’s my pride and joy, Sydney,’ Mistress Margaret say. ‘She’s been serving me since she was a young girl.’
‘And how long have you had Sydney?’ Master Jack ask.
‘Oh, I’m not sure. She was a gift to me from your late uncle. Dear, dear William.’ Another fluttering of the kerchief, watery eyes. ‘He purchased her in Port Royal from a family, down on their luck after a hurricane. A pretty little thing when she first arrived. I would say at least four decades ago.’
So if Sydney that old, mean Mistress Margaret must be real old! Must be why she use all the cream and potion them, trying to work some magic on her skin. Mind you, Sydney skin softer than brown velvet. Not a wrinkle on her face. Nothing Mistress Margaret can do to make her skin look smooth and silky like Sydney.
‘Does she have children?’ Mistress Caroline ask.
‘Sydney’s daughters? They are all grown up by now,’ Mistress Margaret say. ‘Sold long ago to the plantation across the valley.’
Mistress Caroline put down her plate. Stop eating. Look at Mistress Margaret hard. Look at Massa even harder.
‘And Stella? How long have you had her?’
‘Stella!’ Massa say, jumping in. ‘A Creole, born right here on the plantation. Never sold. Has thirty-four good years on her. Getting a little old for breeding, but she’s my prize female Negro. Very good stock. Produced sturdy offspring. William, over there,’ Massa say pointing him fork at me. ‘He’s about … fifteen.’
I notice a look pass between brother and sister.
Master Jack look from Massa to me and back again. ‘Shall I refer to him as a mulatto?’ him ask.
Massa just nod.
‘And the other mulattos?’ Mistress Caroline jump in.
‘Sammy, he serves at table. And there’s James. A quiet child. He’s the one I was telling you about.’
‘I’ve seen a young girl. Pretty little thing,’ Mistress Caroline say, and her face light up.
‘That’s Eliza, just turned seven I believe. I hope she’ll be a good little breeder too.’
‘What are you saying?’ Mistress Caroline ask and I can see she getting more upset.
‘Thankfully the government pays us a sum, for every healthy child born on the plantation. As they should!’ Massa say.
Everything go a little quiet.
‘And the father?’ Mistress Caroline ask as she brush away a fly that land on her pretty blue and white dress. ‘Is that …’
‘Is that Mister Davis, the overseer?’ Master Jack ask, jumping in over Mistress Caroline.
Massa say nothing. Mistress Margaret face turn bright red like the roses in the garden.
‘It’s different out here in the tropics. Different set of rules,’ she say, fanning herself hard. ‘We are so far away from the influence of good Christian breeding. There is not much a poor woman like myself can do about it.’
‘Mother, please! Enough of your moralising,’ Massa say, putting him plate down. ‘I am sure our cousins are quite aware of the Creole lifestyle. And if they are not, it’s high time they learnt. All that fancy education and good breeding – how do you think it gets paid for?’ pouring himself a large glass of ginger beer. Gulping it down. ‘Sacrifices. Hard work. Living under conditions they would not deign to endure!’
Mistress Caroline pour some water from a jug onto her kerchief. Use it to dab her face, trying to cool down.
‘Quite right!’ she say. ‘It has been an education to see how members of the ruling class conduct themselves out here in the colonies.’
‘Oh, Caroline, be quiet. You’re always sticking your nose in where you shouldn’t,’ Master Jack say, but Mistress Caroline ignore him and just keep going.
‘And why they fight so fiercely in parliament to protect their little island home. Not only to maintain their wealth through the trading rights they have acquired, but also certain freedoms – freedoms that would perhaps not be looked at so charitably in the drawing rooms of London.’
‘I would not be so quick to judge,’ Massa say, anger rising in him voice. ‘Our way of life pours money into the coffers of England. It makes her one of the wealthiest nations and allows you both to live in the style you have grown accustomed to. You have no idea of the labour and expense involved in acquiring new slaves, especially since they outlawed the slave trade. Every year the price of a good working Negro goes up and up, while the price of sugar keeps fluctuating, and profits get slimmer and slimmer,’ Massa say, gulping down more ginger beer. ‘Profits you have the luxury of enjoying. It would be niggardly to sit in judgement and be ungrateful for our efforts,’ and him sound very put out.
‘We are very grateful for all your efforts,’ Master Jack say. ‘And I don’t have a problem with the Creole lifestyle. I see that most cut the cloth both ways. It’s the French style. They have a wife and what would pass for a mistress.’
‘However, this is not the case. Is it, Cargill?’ Mistress Caroline ask, jumping in again. ‘You have no wife and yet you have children. Children who are slaves. How can you live like this?’
‘That’s enough, Caroline. Mind your manners,’ Master Jack say. ‘This is not your business, or mine for that matter.’
‘Oh, I think it is,’ Mistress Caroline say. ‘I think it is very much our business,’ she say, looking at me sitting under the tree trying to catch a little shade, turning away like me minding me own business. ‘And what of the slaves? Do you think it is their wish to be denied their freedom? You may treat them in a debased fashion, but this does not mean it is their true nature.’
‘Let me guess, you have been associating with those damn abolitionists. Beware, dear cousin. They speak of freedom, but the true cause they seek is to undermine our way of life.’
After that is not easy to follow all of what Mistress Caroline and the Massa talk bout, but seem like them is on opposite sides of the cow pasture, no matter what the argument. And whatever words they have, make Massa scowl.
Eventually, they stop speaking and we just sit in the heat of the afternoon, sweating, swatting the fly them, listening to the loud singing of the crickets. The river burbling. A small distraction when a flock of parrots come land on a flame tree nearby, squawking loudly as them eat the buds and flowers. At last it cool down enough to mount the horses and ride back to the plantation.
Is the first time I hear backra ask that question. Is it right to keep children of Massa like a slave? Massa seem to have no worry keeping the two apart, only hold tight to the reins of ownership. Not the reins of fatherhood.
As to him children? What bout us? We learn to look to Massa only to see what little freedoms we can get, and complain bout the ones we don’t. Mistress Caroline must have something different under the skin to question things. Is good, but it also cause pain. After what I hear her say, when I look at Massa, the feelings I bury so long ago push forward, no matter how much I try to stop them. Father. Son. Them words just make me confused, angry, and underneath, inside the shadow, them stir up a deep, deep sorrow. Mistress Caroline kindle a longing for a different kind of life, but is a longing that resemble a calabash with gaping big holes, mean nothing can ever fulfil it. In the long run, make no difference whether or not Massa think bout me as him son. Because all Massa see in me is a slave.
The cousin them stay another month. They come and go, visiting other plantations, sometimes stay overnight. Them not used to this life, sitting down round eleven to second breakfast, Creole-style. Instead Mistress Caroline push to get served a big fancy meal in the evening. She tell Mistress Margaret she want to do it proper, li
ke back in the Mother Country. So now in the evening they sit down to supper with many dishes like chicken soup, pickled pork, roasted pigeon, beef tongue, cassava cakes, fruit and little sweets, pots of tea, coffee and claret. The servants alongside Sammy, waiting by the table to serve up the food, serve up the wine. Change plates and glasses so many times Stella have to bring in a few extra girls to help wash and clean things overnight. Make Melon even more bad-tempered. No sir, I wouldn’t like to be working in her kitchens. Many a time some poor girl come rushing out the back door crying. And each day that go by, Massa and Mistress Caroline act polite, but barely have two words between them. Storm brewing and we can all feel it.
One morning weeding in the garden, I overhear Master Jack and Mistress Caroline quarrelling.
‘This is appalling! We must do something.’
‘What would you have us do? Sell the plantation. Free the slaves. Then what?’
‘But they are our, our, our …’
‘Our what, Caroline? Relations? You cannot even bring yourself to say it.’
‘There are freed slaves in London who have been brought up and educated as gentlemen and ladies.’
‘Is that what you’re proposing? You take Cargill’s Negro children and bring them up in our household? Perhaps if you were not so headstrong and particular you would have been married by now and have children of your own.’
‘That’s unfair, Jack. We are both happy in our independence. Does it not press on your humanity when you see how the slaves are treated?’
‘Cargill is right. Those damn abolitionists you’ve been associating with have turned your head. Don’t forget it’s the profits of slavery that pay for all those little tea parties of yours, where you talk about freedom and even the rights of workers. Where will it all end?’
‘It is the principle of the thing. How can you father children and keep them as slaves? It’s wrong and you know it. My mind is made up. I’m going to discuss this with Cargill, tonight, after the evening meal.’
Just then Busha Davis come out, so I move off. Later that night when I tell Stella what me heard, it make her worry and fret like she never worry and fret before. If Mistress Caroline have her way, she going lose her children. And for all of Mistress Caroline talk bout how much she care bout slave children, she never think to ask the mother of the children what she think. She only talk to Massa, the one that own them.