Queen (76 page)

    been. Eighty years ago, a group of sovereign teff itories had joined

    together in a common cause, and once the British were defeated they had

    little in common. All the arguments and treaties for union were a waste

    of time, because disunion was inevitable. The Missouri Compromise, Henry

    Clay's Compromise of 1850, the Fugitive Slave Act, and so many others

    were all attempts to paper over an essential gulf.

    "A house divided against itself cannot stand," Lincoln had said, and Jass

    agreed with him. And since the house was divided, then let it fall into

    its separate parts. His fervent prayer now was that the North would not

    interfere with the Southern ambitions, but if they did, if there was war,

    the South would fight to protect its own, and Jass would fight to protect

    what was rightfully, morally, his. And they would win.

    Lizzie had been wrong about his plans for this evening. He would go to

    see Easter, but later. First he had other, more important things to do.

    He went to his study, opened the safe, and took out the two small boxes

    Tom had given him at the bank. Each was filled with a thousand gold

    coins, British sovereigns. Jass went down to the cellar and buried one

    of the boxes in a small hole that he had prepared the previous day, under

    the duckboards, so that it would be unseen.

    He took the other box, a lamp, and a small shovel, and went out into the

    wintry night.

    Not far from the weaving house, in a small grove of trees, was an old,

    spreading oak. The ground around it was hard, but Jass was full of vigor,

    and he quickly dug a hole, laid the box in it, and covered it over. He

    tramped on the freshly dug earth, covered the small scar with dried

    leaves, and hoped for rain to disguise his handiwork, but in any case he

    had chosen his spot carefully. Few people had any reason to come here.

    The physical labor had tired him and energized him, and now he went to

    Easter.

She was in bed, asleep, but stirred when he came in. She lay silent for

a while, watching him wash his hands in the basin.

"What you bin doin'?" she asked.

    He turned and smiled at her. "Nuttin'," he said. She knew better than to

    question him further.

462 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

    He stripped off his clothes, and climbed into bed with her, snuggling

    hard against her, letting her body warm him.

    She stroked his hair, and bided her time. She always knew when he needed

    to talk to her.

"There's going to be a war, Easter," he said at last.

    She did not really understand the implications, very few people did, for

    wars didn't happen in Alabama, except once, long ago, against Indians,

    but no one could remember that, and Indians didn't count.

    She understood one thing, though. She knew the war would be about

    slavery, and that if the North won, she might be free. It frightened her,

    for she didn't want her life to change.

    "Because of slavery?" She knew it, but wanted to hear him confirm it.

"Yes," he said.

    They lay in silence again, while another, as frightening, thought crept

    up on her.

"Will you fight?" Her voice was a tiny whisper.

He didn't speak, but she felt his head nod.

"Because of slavery?"

Now he moved astride, and looked into her eyes.

    "Because of you," he said. "Because I couldn't bear to lose you."

    Love of him swept through her, and she gave herself to him, and when he

    kissed her, he ignored the taste of salt tears on her cheeks.

    Afterward, they drifted to sleep, but woke as they always did, just

    before dawn. He dressed and went back to the big house, and remembered

    to tell Ephraim, who was already at the stables, to fide to The Sinks and

    tell Miss Becky that Lincoln had won the election.

Ephraim stared at him for a long moment.

"We gwine be free, Massa?" he asked.

    "Hope not," Jass replied blithely. "I couldn't afford to pay you wages."

    He went upstairs, took a bath, dressed for breakfast, and came downstairs

    again. Which is when Ephraim came back with the awful news that Miss

    Becky had died in the night.

    Jass told Lizzie himself, and William and Mary, while Lizzie wept. The

    rest of that day was spent in coping with the bereavement.

    QUEEN 463

    It was not until two days later that he had the time to take Sally for

    a walk to an old oak tree behind the weaving house. Already there was

    scant evidence of the hole he had dug. He showed it to her, in case

    anything should happen to him, and told her of the small provision it

    contained for their uncertain future.

    54

Pocahontas Rebecca Meredith Boiling Perkins was buried two days later in

a simple grave next to that of her dear departed husband, William. Her

death cast a further pall of despondency over the Jackson family, and no

one except Jass looked forward to Christmas with much enthusiasm. Lizzie

took to her bed for a week, partly out of grief for her mother, partly out

of concern for the general political situation, and partly out of care for

her unborn child. Sally took over as surrogate mother, and tried to

brighten everyone's spirits, but she was concerned at what the coming year

would bring, and had no real heart for frivolity. William and Mary had

never experienced the death of a loved one in any real sense-they had been

too young to fully understand the passing of Gran'pa Perkins-and Becky's

death disturbed them greatly. Christmas became more of a religious holiday

than a festive one to them, for death and the dangerous times had turned

all their thoughts to God.

    Except for Jass, who moumed for Becky but gloried in the preparations for

    the coming Southern triumph. He spent little time with his family, but

    journeyed each day to Florence, to plot and plan with like-minded

    friends, and to be near the telegraph office. Hope of a bright,

    independent future, and the excitement of possible action, overrode their

    genuine fear of war. All of them believed that the critical arguments

    between the North and the South, as old as the country, had to be

    resolved, but there were many who were dedicated to the Un-

    464 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

ion, and the arguments for and against breaking away raged between

lifelong friends.

    In the middle of December Jass received a letter from his old college

    chum, George Pritchard. The letter was friendly and informative,

    describing the Northern attitude to the election, and the present public

    mood. Although a few thought that if any Southern states wanted to secede

    they should be allowed to go in peace, for it was not worth blood to keep

    them, most of his friends believed that the Union must be preserved at

    no matter what cost, and the truculent Southern states be brought to

    heel. George reiterated his strident opposition to the institution of

    slavery, and asked Jass to cast his lot with those Southerners, and there

    were many, George thought, who believed in emancipation. Most of all, he

    begged Jass to use whatever influence he had to persuade his political

    friends in Alabama not to take the dangerous path of disunion.

    "We are the future," George wrote, "it is molded by us, and perhaps the

    die is already cast. But we cannot go lightly into this unknown

    territory, for it may bring the end of that which we both hold dear and

    for which we would gladly have given our lives, our country. We are one

    nation, under God, indivisible. It is my most fervent belief that the new

    President will act most forcibly against any attempt to wreck that cov-

    enant, and that will set friend against friend, cousin against cousin,

    brother against brother. Surely there must be a way to bring about a

    peaceful resolution to this crisis, for I cannot believe that, in your

    heart, you wish to kill me, just as I have no desire to destroy you. Yet

    if the extreme voices on both sides have their way, that will surely be

    the outcome, and all of us will lose."

    The letter ended warmly and affectionately with the compliments of the

    season to all the Jacksons from all the Pritchard family, and George

    wished especially to be remembered to Cap'n Jack.

    Jass was touched by the letter. He read it twice and then put it away in

    a drawer. It was too late; the die was already cast. Alabama would not

    be the first to secede, and if no other state did, Alabama would not, he

    knew from discussions with his political friends. But if another state

    took the giant leap first, Alabama would not be the last to follow.

    QUEEN 465

On the twentieth of December South Carolina adopted the ordinance of

secession from the Union. Throughout the state the announcement was

greeted with bands, church bells, and cannon fire, and joyously received

by the populace. Whatever their attitude to South Carolina's actions, the

rest of the South held its breath, but nothing happened.

    Outgoing President Buchanan chose to do nothing. The president-elect

    could do nothing. So nothing was done.

    Euphoria swept the South. Sanity had prevailed. South Carolina was now

    a sovereign country, and no wrathful Yankee army challenged her

    independence. Christmas Eve in Florence was as splendid and exultant as

    anyone could remember. The churches were full. The shops stayed open

    late; the taverns didn't close their doors. The streets were thronged

    with people, all wishing each other, from the bottom of their hearts, the

    merriest Christmas and the happiest of all New Years.

    There were dissenting voices, those who, like George Pritchard, took

    their pledge of allegiance to the Union as a most solemn vow, but they

    were lost in the extravagant excitement and the general relief that there

    wasn't going to be a war, Jass was euphoric, and galloped home from

    Florence, shouting the news to anyone who might listen. He gathered his

    family into his joyous embrace, and Christmas became, after all, a splen-

    did celebration, with Jass the most genial Santa Claus.

The slaves at The Forks had no cause to celebrate or the means to do so.

South Carolina's action was fatal to their dreams, and the lack of

retaliation by the North proved the promises of Linkun to be empty. They

knew little of him except what they had heard through the grapevine, but

they had allowed themselves to believe, because they wanted to, because

they needed to, that he represented a possible end to their bondage. Now

all they saw was a future as hopeless as their past.

    Cap'n Jack shut himself in his cabin, and swore he would not come out

    until he was carried out, in his coffin. Queen was allowed to spend part

    of Christmas Day with her mammy, and she and Easter went to Cap'n Jack's

    cabin and banged on the door, begging him to join them at the weaving

    house, but he would not. The last best chance of seeing freedom in his

466 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

lifetime was gone and now he wanted to die, he shouted at them.

    The women shrugged and left him to his tantrum. They spent a happy day

    together, with no special celebration, content to be in each other's

    company, and content with the way the world was going, for neither of

    them wanted war, neither of them particularly wanted the slave dream of

    freedom to become reality without the condition both women attached to

    it, which was that they be allowed to stay at The Forks, in circumstances

    they both understood. For each woman, in her separate way, loved the same

    man, and that man was their Massa.

    Parson Dick was as depressed as Cap'n Jack, but had a happier solution.

    He stole a bottle of brandy from the cellar and decided to get drunk. Not

    wanting to be alone, he tucked the bottle under his jacket and went to

    Cap'n Jack's cabin.

"Go away," the recluse shouted.

"I got liquor," Parson Dick called softly.

    After a few moments of silence, Cap'n Jack opened the door. Parson Dick

    went inside, and the two old friends drowned their sorrows in Jass's good

    cognac.

    Like the other slaves, Parson Dick had heard the rumors that this new

    president was their champion against slavery, but he had more immediate

    reasons than most to hope that the rumors were true.

For Parson Dick had fallen in love.

    A few months ago, the Coffee family had requested that Jass loan them

    Parson Dick for a week. Their own butler was ill, they had two important

    functions to host, and it seemed silly to buy a new slave, but they would

    happily pay for the temporary butler. Jass, genial as ever and having no

    particular need of Parson Dick that week, had agreed. Slaves were fre-