Drum (47 page)

"Believe me, Mr. Maxwell, your problem is one I have never encountered before. Had you come here this afternoon, desiring one of my girls, I could have supplied you. But to provide you with a housekeeper, a preceptress for your daughter and possibly also a companion for yourself. . . ." Alix threw up her hands. "I'd like to help you, but frankly there is not a white girl in my house I would recommend. . . ." She paused, and suddenly snapped her brittle fingers. "I think I have an idea. But I can't tell you now. You must give me time to think it over."

Hammond thanked her with a smile. "Didn't 'spect to walk in here and walk out with one, Miz Alecks. Don' even buy me a slave that way. Kin I come back tomorrow?"

"Do! Even then I may not be able to help you, but I dc have someone in mind."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Then tomorrow. Tomorrow evening, if possible." Th<; tone of her voice dismissed him and she sank back amonjl the pillows, her mind already busy with, prospects and thd price she intended to charge.

Hammond made no move to leave. Instead he settlec back in his chair. 1

"And now, Miz Alecks, I'd like to talk about anothe? matter about which I've more 'sperience. When I came ii here, yoijr servant opened the door for me. Does that bo] have Mandingo blood?"

"You mean Drumson?" Alix shook her head. "Before w«; discuss him, let me say, Mr. Maxwell, he is not for sale ii: that is what you have in mind." j

"That's 'zactly what I had in mind, Miz Alecks. But donj say he's not for sale. Every slave is for sale, ifn the price!! is high 'nuf." 'l

"But not Drumson." Alix continued to shake her head! "And besides, he has no Mandingo blood, and I shoukl know because his father and his grandfather were my} slaves. His grandfather was Hausa—direct from Africa." '

"Hausas are good," Hammond acknowledged. "Practically-as good as Mandingos." I

"His grandfather was Royal Hausa, which is better thaii any Mandingo."

"Rare," Hammond agreed I

"Drumson's good on both sides but he's not for sale.''

'Taken me a great notion to him." Hanunond pressec his case. "Offerin' you good price, say two thousand dollars.'l

'Two thousand dollars?" In spite of her refusal to seL Drumson, Alix was interested. She had estimated his wort! at aroimd fifteen hvmdred. Two thousand was a temptint offer, but she sensed that Hammond might go higher.

"Would want to look him over again 'fore I decided."

"No, Mr. Maxwell, Drumson's not for sale." Her words however, did not have the finality they implied.

"Falconhurst a good home fer him. Like to breed him Good blood lines runnin' out in niggers today. Hard to gi anything good any more. Mos' slaves today nothin' but mon grels. m make it twenty-five hundred."

Alix was weakening. "He's not been brought up for plan

tation work. He's a city nigger. Couldn't work on a plantation—house-bom, house-broken and house-trained."

"Don' mean to make him no field hand, Miz Alecks. We don't raise crops. Raises only niggers—they's the best cash crop. Ill put him in charge of the new house."

"And then, after you'd kept him a few years and bred him out, you'd sell him."

"Don't sell our house slaves. Had Lucretia Borgia afore

I was bom. Had Memnon for years too. This boy turn

out well, I won't sell him. Turn out mean and omery, I'll

git rid of him. Cain't have a mean nigger 'round the house."

"Nothing mean about Drunoson."

Hammond started to answer but a wave of Alix' hand stopped him. For a long moment she did not speak.

"You have come to me today, Mr. Maxwell with two very imusual propositions. I am a business woman and I try not to be sentimental. I shall try to help you on your first proposition . . . for a price." She looked up at him and he nodded his head. "As to your second, I hesitate. I am an old woman, Mr. Maxwell. Older than you might think to look at me. When I die I do not know what will happen here. I've nobody in the world to leave my money to so I shall leave it to the church in the hope that the masses said for me will expiate my sins. My slaves and my girls who are not white will probably be sold at auction. Drumson might be a lot worse off than with you. I'll sell him to you at the price you mention. I'll know he'll not be sold as a field hand after my death and I have heard enough about Falconhurst to know it will be a good place for him."

"Agreed," Hammond nodded, "but I'd like to look him over again."

"Certainly, I'll have him come here." Hammond's face flushed an even deeper red, he hesitated, [then stammered. "But I want him to strip down so's I can I go over him."

j "Naturally," she smiled as she reached for the bell cord. "Mr. Maxwell, I've kept a brothel for many years. There is ! little about the anatomy of man or woman I am not acquainted with. When I buy myself a buck, I go over him [exactly as you intend to do." She pulled on the bell cord jand sat up among her pillows.

chapter ii

Almost before the last notes of the bell had ceased the tinny echoing in the courtyard below, Drumson was agai knocking on Alix' door. At her mumbled permission, t entered, slowly and with fear. He wondered what she an the white man had been talking about. He sensed that 1 had been an important part of their conversation.

"You rang for me, Madame?"

"Come in here and close the door behind you. Step ov«; there in fe-ont of Mr. Maxwell and shuck yourself dow)' boy. Mr. Maxwell wants to look you over."

Drumson's fingers trembled as he undid the buttons < his shirt and dropped it to the floor. He had no hesitanci about imdressing in front of Madame—^she had seen hi, and Blaise working out naked many times in the courtyai —but the trembling in his fingers increased as he unti«i the drawstring that held up his pants. They fell to tl floor and he stepped out of their limp folds. He was w< aware that such an examination as this was the prelude , a sale—the sale of his own body to a prospective custorac True, he had bragged to himself that he wanted to be sol Now, faced with it, he was frightened. This was his hom the only home he had ever known. As Madame's sla\ with Blaise and his mother and his own room in t> gargonniere, he had been secure. This unknown man b fore him was a stranger. Suddenly the outside world seem^ big and unfriendly.

Hammond motioned for Drumson to come closer to hi and with expert fingers made a thorough examination of t boy's body. Drumson's thin cotton clothes had not conceal; his physique. Only once before in a lifetime of buying, breei ing and selling slaves had Hammond beheld such physic i perfection, and now his thoughts went back to that d[ some nine years ago in old Mr. Wilson's Ubrary when had first seen Mede, the Mandingo. That was perfection, tc^

He had known the instant he had seen Mede standing before him that he must have him at any price, and he had l)Ought him. Now he was equally sure he must own Drumson. rhe boy was not as heavy, not as massive as Mede had been, but he was as perfect. Where Mede's perfection had l)een in his savage magnificence, this boy's excellence was heightened by intelligence. His features were finer, more classically chiseled than Mede's had been. His eyes were keener, brighter and showed a depth of emotion which Mede's had never shown.

Hammond's hands pulled Drumson down to his knees before him and then wandered over his head. Phrenology was in vogue at that time and Hammond, purely for business purposes, had laboriously digested a book on the subject. About the only thing he remembered was that the bump of amativeness was located at the base of the craniimi and his fingers now informed him that this boy was well endowed in that respect. So much the better. He needed an excess of amativeness to make him a good breeder. Hamjnond's fingers spread open Drumson's eyelids and noted the clear bluish white of the eyeballs; they opened the wide mouth and entered it to feel the formation of the strong even teeth; then wandered down the thick colvunn of the neck with its pulsating veins to the broad shoulders.

Carefully he examined the flawless surface, the satin smoothness of the copper-colored skin, for wens, moles, pimples or welts left by a whip, but found none. A few rudimentary hairs in ihe cleavage between the pectoral muscles caused him to frown. He had a desire to pull them out—a Negro's body should be smooth. Well, what were a few hairs? His hands proceeded and found Dnmison's beUy to be flat and well muscled with the navel deep and well formed, not protruding in a liunp as it did on so many Negroes. He lifted the genitals with one hand, weighing them and testing their solid heaviness. With the other hand he drew back the foreskin and released it, letting it roll back in place.

Ignoring Drumson, Hammond addressed Alix.

"Ever bred this boy, Miz Alecks?"

She shook her head.

"Looks like he has good sap in him," Hammond considered, "but never kin tell. Sometimes these big bucks ain't no good 'tall when it comes to gittin' suckers. Lotsa beef but no sap." Hammond's hands turned Drumson around and signaled for him to bend over. He spread the cheeks

of the boy's buttocks and then slapped his rump gently as i a signal for him to stand up. His hands glided over Drum- ; son's calves and then down to his toes. Having completed his thorough examination, he pushed Drumson aside, the better to talk with Alix.

"Waz-zat doodad he's a-wearin'?" He pursed his lips and pointed to the sUver pendant.

"His grandfather's and it belongs to him. He must always wear it." Alix was emphatic.

"Ain't never bo't me no nigger before a-wearin' jewelry but if n it's his'n, it's his'n." Hammond could not keep his eyes ofiE Drumson. He was envisioning another generation of tall young slaves like this one. Big Pearl, his Mandingo wench, was young enough to have a lot of suckers in her yet. She was only about twenty-five or so, and with this fellow siring her progeny, he would have slaves that would be fancies in any market. Also, with Drumson he'd not have to worry about inbreeding as he had with Mede. Mede's son out of Big Pearl, who was Mede's own sister, was already big and strong for his eleven years, but stupid— danrn stupid in fact; could hardly make himself understood.

"I wants this boy, Miz Alecks. Wants to take him with me right now. Les' see now. We agreed at twenty-five himdred. Right?"

She faltered. "Oh I really . . . Doesn't seem as though . . . I don't know. ..."

Hammond reached into his coat pocket and took out a thick wallet. He opened it and took out the bills and slowly counted off twenty hundreds and ten fifties. Carefully he smoothed them, aligned them, and proferred them to Alix.

Drumson's eyes followed his movements. He could count and he realized that he was bringing a high price. Pride in his value made him stand even straighter.

Alix counted the bills slowly and wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.

"Your bill of sale, Mr. Maxwell?"

"Gets it when I comes back tomorrow." He turned to Drumson. "You got any other clothes than these?" He pointed to the shapeless heap of garments on the floor.

"Go and change into your black suit, Drumson, and then come back here." Alix clapped her hands together. "Allons!"

"You sold me, madame?" Now that it had actually happened, he was aware of the enormity of the transaction. He pulled on his clothes, looking at her reproachfully.

"Go along now! Perhaps Mr. Maxwell will allow me five minutes with you when you return."

"Sure thing, ma'am." Hammond rose awkwardly, not knowing just how to take leave of the woman on the bed. He bowed stiffly. "I'll go with him and wait for him downstairs and 111 come back tomorrow."

They left and Alix sank back on the pillows. She looked at the bills in her hand and counted them over again. These pieces of paper for her grandson? Yes, he was really her grandson. She . . . grandmother to a black slave! Ridiculous, but it was true. Surely she didn't need the money and it would only be more for the fat priests to gloat over. She could have given the boy his freedom but manumission was a long and costly process and besides he was far too young to be free. Better to sell him to a man like Hanunond Maxwell than to have him running aroimd the city as a freedman or have him standing on the auction block under the rotunda of the St. Louis Hotel, being knocked down to some planter. She had heard enough about the Maxwells and their plantation to know that he would be well off there and he needed some sort of discipline.

The door opened and Drumson entered, dressed in a plain but well-tailored suit of black alpaca. Its short, waist-length jacket covered a white linen shirt and the long trousers reached to decent black shoes which glistened with polish.

"Come over here," Alix beckoned. "Kneel down." She waited for him to kneel beside the bed and her hand went under his chin to untie the string tie and undo the button of his neckband. The dry, aged fingers crep along the warm dark flesh until they encountered the silver chain. For the first time since that long-ago day in Havana when she had picked up the sodden little bag Tamboura had worn around his neck, it was passing out of her possession. It was her last link with Tamboura. She fingered the warm metal, moist from Drumson's sweat. Her fingers left it reluctantly.

"Don't ever part with this, Drumson, and if you have a son, give it to him. Your grandfather brought it from Africa. Never forget that he was the son of a king. You are Royal Hausa. Remember it."

"Why are you selling me, madame?"

"Why did I sell Tom-Ned and Blazes? I am selling you for the same reason. There's not enough work here to keep you busy. And besides, I might die tomorrow. Then where would you be? You might end up in the cane fields. Now I'll at

least know where you are. It's better, Drumson, better fbh way."

"Don't want to leave Blaise and mammy. Don't want leave you, madame."

"Be good for you to get away from here. This isn't very good place for a healthy young buck like you. Be a gc boy and mind Mr. Maxwell. Do as he tells you and neve argue with him. You'll be coming back tomorrow and probably Mr. Maxwell will be coming to New Orleans again and maybe he'll bring you with him. You'll see Calinda and Blaise often. Now go, boy, I'm tired." She seemed anxious tc, be rid of him.