Master of My Fate

by Sienna Brown

  Mistress Josephine call out to her from the parlour to ‘hurry up or else’. When she and Winnie heading out the door, she turn and give me the biggest smile. Now I know who that doll was meant for. Baby Jesus not going miss it one bit.

  Once Winnie return, put on her apron and start to cook. Pretty soon the place full up with the banging of pots and pans and smells to make you mouth water. And just like Melon, Winnie put me to work chopping up the wood she going need for all that cooking.

  Later, some of Mistress Josephine friends come over to help set up the house for the celebration. One time, when me heading to the parlour with some more chairs I have to fetch from next door, I overhear the women talking.

  ‘How come Josephine always manage to find herself a nice little mango?’

  ‘Well, why not? She paying for this one.’

  ‘Nice and juicy.’

  ‘Ripe.’

  ‘Ready for the picking.’

  When I enter, they stop talking and is a whole lot of giggling behind hands going on.

  I have just enough time to have a wash, get changed into the serving clothes Mistress Josephine want me to wear when the guest them start to arrive. She tell me to stand at the front door to greet them. If them arrive on foot, I must take the gentlemen hat and gloves, the ladies cloak, put them aside. If them arrive by carriage, I supposed to help them alight. It don’t take long before me running in and out the house helping gentlemen and ladies to enter. And when I see how them all dress, me have to stop meself from staring. Is like Christmas time, when everyone, even plantation slaves, get dressed up in them finest.

  Winnie tell me later. ‘Dem gowns. Dem is nothing fancy. You should see what they wear to the ball at the governor’s mansion.’

  By the time all the guest them arrive and I make it inside, the celebration is at its height. The room full up with a sea of black, brown and white faces, everybody mingling together. In one corner, a small group of musicians playing a lively tune. Nobody seem to be listening, though, because they all talking at once. Winnie don’t give me time to stand and gape. She hand me a tray and tell me to go round, pick up empty glasses and plates.

  While I make me way round the room, I notice that Mistress Josephine is the centre of it all. Moving here and there, talking and laughing with all her guests. I also notice how she sometimes look pon me, when she think me not looking, then fan herself before she turn back to the person she speaking to. I see Mister Potts trying hard to get her attention, but from where me standing, poor Mister Potts don’t have no hope in that direction.

  And there is little Rose, sitting in a window seat, her hair done up fancy with ribbons and a pretty pin. All straight-backed and being as good as can be. When I go past, me give her a quick smile and a wink. She check to make sure her mother not looking, then she smile right back. She must be have a sip of Winnie rum punch because when I pass, them smiles keep getting bigger and bigger.

  When things start to slow down, I decide to head outside onto the balcony to get some fresh air. The room too hot and all the people them make me feel closed in. I notice even though is late, the streets still full of people coming and going bout them business. It make plantation life seem very dull and lifeless.

  Round midnight some of the guests start to leave and is up to me to hand them back hats and coats, help bring up the carriages. Must be bout two in the morning when finally the last guest make him way down the stairs. Is Mister Potts and him seem to be in a bad mood. Look like I was right, him not going catch Mistress Josephine favour, not tonight.

  After we do a bit of cleaning up, Winnie leave me to lock up the doors and windows so she can go to bed. ‘Me poor feet burning me. Been standing on dem since early, early this morning.’

  When everything locked down tight, I head back upstairs to the parlour, bump into Mistress Josephine standing by the doorway.

  ‘What are you doing, boy?’

  ‘Cleaning up, Mistress,’ starting to put the last of the glasses on the tray.

  ‘Leave that until the morning.’ She pick up a candle snuffer, put out the candles one by one. The last one she leave lit, pick it up and head out the parlour. ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ looking back at me before she turn, start up the stairs. I stand there not sure what she want me to do.

  ‘Come, my little mango, come,’ she say, calling down to me. ‘Come and show your mistress how juicy you are.’

  Now I come to understand what it is Mistress Josephine is paying for. And with that, me feet come unstuck and I find meself leaping up the stairs, two by two.

  I spend three more weeks at the home of Mistress Josephine before she feel Massa pay him debt to her. During the day she have me work on the house. Make sure every little thing get fixed up good. When she go into town to do her shopping, she sometimes have me walk behind carrying her package them. Can’t help noticing how her lady friend them always whispering and giggling behind them fans as we walk by. Mistress Josephine pay them no mind.

  ‘Jealous,’ she say, and laugh.

  When Winnie too busy in the kitchen, sometimes I have to take little Rose to the school run by the church. They make it free for everybody. Whites, blacks and coloureds. If I don’t have work to do, me sit, just inside the door, listening to all the lessons. And it always bring James to mind knowing him must be learning all them lessons too.

  After lessons, if Mistress Josephine want some ‘peace and quiet’ I come to know mean she have a gentleman caller, and me must take little Rose for a walk. Rose always want to walk down Market Street, past all the shops, past the warehouses till we come to the port. Sit on the stone wall and eat sweetmeats, looking at the flags on all the tall sailing ships, try to name the country they come from. One afternoon she count, very proudly, at least sixteen of them large ships. And when we walk along the promenade she like to talk slave talk, not proper like she supposed to.

  ‘See that one there,’ she say, pointing. ‘One day,’ taking another sweetmeat, ‘one day, me going climb on board one of dem ships and sail far far away.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Me going sail round and round till me grow big and tall. Come back, and Mama can’t tell me what to do no more.’

  I nod me head. Sail round the world is a thing I never think bout before. But then, I reason to meself, I never imagine me going be sitting on a port bench eating sweetmeats, wearing fancy clothes, talking bout sailing ships.

  Then the thought of it get broken when little Rose point at one of the ships.

  ‘See dem two there. The big ones. Dem used to be slave ships. Bring plenty slaves from Africa. And even before dem ships come into port, everybody know, because you can smell dem a long time before you see dem. Stink like the outhouse. And the slaves is all chained up. Can barely stand. Have sores all over. That’s before they get fattened up and slavers rub oil on dem body. Get dem ready to be sold.’

  ‘Who tell you this?’

  ‘Winnie,’ little Rose say. ‘Make Mama plenty mad when she find out.’

  Later that night I ask Winnie bout it.

  ‘Little Rose need to know the truth,’ she tell me. ‘Is too late for you, me, for Mistress Josephine. We used to this slavery business, come to accept the way it is. But little Rose. One day, me hope that little girl going come to understand how wicked it is. Work hard to stop it. You think we freer here than out on the plantation? Think because Mistress not a backra it going be different? Slavery is slavery.’

  Fixing up the house, helping Winnie in the kitchen, looking after little Rose is one thing. But come night-time, now that is when the real work begin. Mistress Josephine like me to serve her a late supper, up in her bedroom. She have me dressed like a savage she call it. Have nothing on but a loincloth. While she eating, I must fill up the little copper bathtub she have sitting in one corner with hot water. When it ready, I help her to undress while she stand in front of the mirror to admire herself.

  ‘Do you find me beautiful, little Will?’

  �
��Yes, Mistress Josephine, the most beautiful woman in Montego Bay.’

  Mind you, not hard. She is the prettiest woman I ever seen.

  When she naked, she settle herself into the tub. Get me to wash her. Wash her all over, before I wrap a sheet round her. Lift her out and take her to bed.

  Is like living in a dream, one that I know soon going have to end. So while it last, I make the best of it. Indulge in whatever little whim or fancy Mistress Josephine instruct me to do. Back on the plantation, I favour a few of the giggling indoor slave girls. Meet them in secret, do me business and leave. Nothing fancy, never make no promises. I know Stella going choose for me. But spending time with Mistress Josephine, I come to understand what it mean to be a juicy mango and delight in the pleasure it bring Mistress Josephine. She also teach me to give her pleasure, before taking mine. Best of all though, she teach me the power, strength and beauty of me own kind.

  The day come for me to leave, and it seem to come up so fast. I say goodbye to Winnie in the kitchen. She hug me up good, give me her own fortified cake to send back to Melon. Little Rose start to cry and she cling to me, trying to make me stay. Even Mistress Josephine seem to have a watery look in her eyes. Was hard to say goodbye, put back on the raggedy slave clothes, sling me crocus bag over me shoulder. This time, I head out the front door, not the back, before I walk to the stable where me house that old mule me ride in on. Get up on him back and take the coast road leading out of town. Hoping that one day, I don’t know how, me going be like the town people them, like James, walking free down the street, holding me head up high.

  World of Loss

  After I come back from Montego Bay, everybody gather round, ask plenty plenty questions. Have to sit night after night outside the hut, tell them every little thing bout what life is like in the famous town. Tell them bout the harbour, the sailing ships, the town people seabathing in all that water. The fancy clothes, the shops, the streets at night, how them full of light. Tell them bout Mistress Josephine and little Rose, how them is free and never been no slave. But mainly everybody want to know how black, white and coloureds mingle in the streets all together. Melon come every night, Mary follow close behind, and when everybody gone, I have to tell her all the stories me collect bout Winnie. How she look, what she cook, how she faring. Even Floppy the dog get a mention. One time when I was storytelling, Massa come stumbling down the path, stand in the shadows listening. Then him go on him way to him latest favourite slave woman. Massa always like him rum, used to have a glass after supper, maybe two. But now it seem like the drinking habit catch him.

  After a while, the talking nights outside the hut come to an end. And all the memories I have, come down to one. How for a time, I walked like a free man down them streets in fancy clothes, holding me head up high. Is the only thing that keep me going when plantation life seem dull, seem slow. And the unfairness of my life, start to push and poke me. And the mosquitoes buzz and start to sting. One afternoon, after I spend all day weeding in Massa garden, him come up start yelling, tell me what a bad job I done. I look round and know is not true.

  ‘Do it youself, then!’ I shout at him, and throw down the spade. I don’t know who is more surprised, me or Massa. Him slap me hard cross the mouth.

  ‘Never raise your voice to me again, boy. Or next time you will feel the lash.’ And him turn him back on me and storm away.

  After that Massa must be tell Busha Davis to start jobbing me out. Send me all over the place to plantations far and wide. Sometimes the jobbing take me away for many weeks, sometimes only a few days. It make me happy to be free to work as I see fit, free to learn more bout building in stone. Sometimes even help build a new room on a massa Great House. Is hard work, but I enjoy it.

  Planting season come, gone and come again, and in time I stop longing for them happy days up in Montego Bay. But no matter how long I been away, when I return to Rock Pleasant, is like time stand still, and nothing much changed.

  Not this time, though.

  This time, when I return from the last job I finish, everything seem more quiet than usual. I search out Stella, but she sullen, do what she have to do, move on, do the next, but all the while say nothing, pay nobody no mind. When I ask after Eliza, Stella tell me she sick, must leave her alone. Then I start notice nobody seem able to look at me straight, them look at me sideways, have a funny look in them eyes. Finally, Calla tell me. Sit me down late one night, give me the news. At first she find it hard to speak, till finally she tell me.

  ‘Massa get drunk.’

  Nothing new bout that, me thinking. But then she go on.

  ‘Massa …’ Calla stop, collect herself. ‘Is a terrible thing, little Will. Him try to have him way with Eliza.’

  ‘Eliza?’

  Calla nod. ‘Only problem is Eliza start to holler. Cry and struggle, call out for Stella. When Stella hear, she come running up. Pulled Massa off her. She so angry, she stand there screaming, calling Massa names. Stella scream so loud, so long, could hear it all round the slave village,’ Calla say, shaking her head. ‘Massa get plenty mad. Want to hurt Stella, hurt her bad. Him order Winston to whip Eliza. Make Stella watch dem daughter get ten lashes. Ignore Stella when she get down on her hands and knees beg Massa to stop. Beg Massa to whip her instead. Was no use. Eliza get that whipping good and proper. Mark her back for life.’

  All these years I know what Massa been up to. But sweet Eliza, him own daughter? Made vomit rise up in me throat. Had to breathe deep to stop it. If I had been there, seen it, heard Eliza cry out, when Massa try to have him way with her. When the lash cut her back. What me going do? Turn that whip on Massa, give him the whipping him deserve? But when it come right down to it, like everybody else, me going do nothing. Nothing except hold down the vomit, hold it down good. Go bout me business like nothing happen.

  The other slave them, they glad. I can see it in them eyes. Specially Sydney. She think we act like we special, now Massa show that our little family is not. And the power Stella had over them, starting to fade.

  When I ask Sammy bout it, I can’t believe what him say.

  ‘Eliza should’a just stay quiet. Let Massa do him business. Use it to her advantage.’

  I go visit Stella and Eliza one night, bring wood I chop special just for them. Sit beside Eliza, hold her hand. Stella make bush tea and we drink it together. When Eliza fall into sleep, I ask Stella if she want me to stay with them in the hut. Stella shake her head, look up at me. I never see such deep sadness.

  ‘Nobody can help me, Willy. Me know it now.’

  Stella say nothing more after that, but her word them make me afraid. I know the power of the snake Stella have inside her. When it strike, it going do plenty damage. For now though, is best to let it be. Just sit quietly beside her, knowing she gathering her strength for whatever coming down the path to meet her.

  I wake early to a dark hut. The clouds moving a sheet of grey over the sky, over the sun. Hanging low, heavy, them seem so close. It feel like it going rain. By the time the clouds blow over, it turn into a day I never will forget.

  It start like normal. Is water barrel day. It going take me a whole day by the time I scrub and clean and fill them, but is a job I don’t much mind. Getting ready to head out to the pasture to find that mule to ride him down to the river, I hear me name called out. Look out the hut, see Eliza running up the path through the slave village.

  ‘William, come quick! Come quick! Something happen to Massa!’

  I use the shortcut past the bamboo grove. Move quick down to the Great House, sweating all the way. Run round the back, enter through the kitchen. Then I hear it. Lord what a lot of commotion, weeping and wailing coming from the parlour. What a shock when I enter. Everything in a terrible state. Massa laying on the couch, blood everywhere. Sydney winding her apron round him neck trying to stop the flow. Mistress Margaret slumped in a chair wringing her hands and moaning. One of the young house slaves on hands and knees mopping up the floor and weeping. Mary holding ont
o Melon, eyes wide, shaking her head from side to side.

  ‘What happen? What happen?’

  ‘Winston see Massa horse running, dragging Massa. Him foot catch up in the stirrup. Blood all over him clothes,’ Melon tell me in between the mopping and moaning and hand wringing. ‘Busha Davis gone fetch Doctor Watson.’

  Sammy come in bringing a big glass of rum for Mistress Margaret. I can see him eyes turn red from weeping. She grab the glass, gulp it down in one go.

  ‘Brandy!’ she shout. ‘Get some brandy for my son.’

  I look round for Stella. No sign of her. Eliza go get the brandy bottle from the cupboard. Mistress Margaret pour it into a spoon, try get Massa to drink. Make no difference. Massa just lay there, still, hardly breathing.

  Busha Davis show up bringing Doctor Watson. Tell Sydney to take Mistress Margaret to her room. Tell us all to get out. Go bout our business.

  ‘Back to work,’ him shout when nobody make a move.

  Massa never make it through the night. Dead and turning cold by the next morning. Doctor Watson have to give Mistress Margaret a big dose of tonic to calm her down.

  And everybody asking, how this can happen?

  That night, Stella come to me hut. She not come for a visit in a long time. Not after she move out the slave village. Not after she and Eliza living in the hut Massa had Winston build special for them.

  She come in close and I expect to see grief stretched cross her face. But in the flicking candle light, what I see is fear.

  ‘You find the hatchet?’

  ‘What you mean?’

  ‘Don’t act stupid. The one you lend Robert.’

  ‘Him never return it.’

  ‘You better look for it. Find it, and find it quick.’

  ‘Stella, what you saying?’ But I get no answer. She gone already. Slipped into the shadows of the night.

  The next day and many days after, I go looking for that hatchet. The one I lend McKellar when him tell me him going use it to chop wood. I never find it.