Queen (115 page)

    sense of purpose, the bloody-minded determination to take what was right-

    fully, morally theirs, by combative action if necessary, thrilled him.

    The words that he had kept contained inside him because he saw no point

    in saying them burst out, and he became, in a short space of time, an

    admired and respected orator, and a considerable asset to the fledgling

    union cause.

    It was the union that sent him traveling, to the center of industrial

    unrest, and it was he who voiced the frustrations and

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ambitions and dreams of his black brethren. Many of the slaves had been

dispossessed from their only homes, which were the plantations, they had few

skills to earn a living in this new world of freedom, and, if they had the

skills, they were cheated and abused by their new Massas, the bosses.

    He took the high-minded words of the government to heart, and equality had

    genuine meaning for him. He wanted no more than that for his brothers, but

    he was determined to achieve at least that, and to take it forcibly if it

    was not given. He also understood something that set him apart from his

    peers, and gave him a purer sense of purpose, a purer power, and a purer

    ability to achieve his goals. He understood that it was not simply a matter

    of black versus white, but of worker against boss. While his speeches were

    directed primarily to blacks, he had the vision to include disgruntled,

    unemployed whites in his embrace, although most rejected him.

    The low-country plantations of Georgia and South Carolina grew rice and

    fermented trouble. In this swampy land of tidal rivers and intolerable

    summer weather, of disease and racist attitudes, the working conditions of

    the field hands were intolerable. It was in Brunswick, south of Beaufort,

    that the hands had revolted, as Queen had heard, and refused to obey their

    martinet masters, many of whom were veteran Confederate officers to whom

    the concept of free niggers was intolerable. Race riots had ensued, and

    units of the national guard were called out. The end of slavery, the end of

    an abundant supply of free labor, had revealed that many of the plantations

    were not economically viable, and so the hands were employed in vile

    conditions that bordered on paid slavery. Instead of being given their

    meager wages in cash, the hands were given checks that could be redeemed

    only at plantation stores, and so they were feudally bonded to their

    employers. Without specie, cash money, they could not survive, as there

    were few other jobs for unskilled men, and for most of them, the land was

    the only labor they knew. Davis had come to Beaufort to try to improve

    their conditions, but the plantation owners were completely resistant to

    change, claiming they could not afford it, and even more resistant to

    unions and a leader from somewhere else who incited their niggers to rebel,

    or inspired disturbing ambitions.

    QUEEN 701

    Davis was no revolutionary. He did not want to overthrow the system; he

    wanted the working black man's place within the system to be recognized.

    It was a fine distinction, which many whites who heard him speak refused

    to recognize, and to many he represented a potential for intolerable

    violence. The horrors of the French Revolution, the destruction of an

    entire class system and its egalitarian aftermath, were the foundation

    of the fears of the white ruling class, and the winds of industrial and

    social change that were sweeping through Europe fanned those fears into

    fires of burning resentment against anyone who spoke of equality, of race

    or class.

    Yet there was hope. A black man in Beaufort, encouraged by Davis, was

    determined to stand for mayor, and given the preponderance of newly

    enfranchised black voters, he might very well win. This prospect was

    deeply shocking to the whites, and, desperate as they were to find some

    focus for their rage, some scapegoat, Davis was increasingly and un-

    realistically seen as the single engine of black ambition. Davis laughed

    at the attention, for no one man was responsible for these surging

    changes; they were the consensus of the many. But he knew he could direct

    the general mood to particular ends.

    He also knew it was dangerous, and that the bosses, and many of the white

    working class, could not let the situation in Beaufort continue. A

    showdown was approaching, and Davis was ready for it, and did not fear

    its possible consequences.

Until Queen came to him.

    When he saw Queen standing in the moonlight outside his shack, his child

    in her arms, his heart sank. She was part of his past, the other him, and

    was safe there from danger. There was no place for her in his new life,

    because that might bring harm to her, or the boy, and he could not bear

    the thought of anything happening to her. She had suffered enough, and

    partly because of him. His sense of responsibility to her was so profound

    that he wanted her gone, even though her going would pain him as no fire

    ever could.

    But she was there, and he could not resist his heart. He had taken her

    to him, and loved her as well as he could because he owed her so much.

    But now he had to find some way to

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get her away from here, out of his life, and away from the possibility of

harm, which loomed so large on his horizon.

The striker who took Queen back to Beaufort delivered her to the back of

the hotel. Queen went to her room, and wondered how she could face Mrs.

Benson. She knew her Missy must be furiously angry, for she had missed at

least one feeding time for William, and although she had claimed sickness,

Mrs. Benson must surely have checked her room, and found her gone. Yet the

maternal side of her also worried for William, who seemed so helpless when

he lay in her arms, so dependent on her milk, on the sustenance she gave

him. She felt guilty about what she had done, but was inspired by Davis,

and so she went to Mrs. Benson's room, ready for anything.

    She heard William before she saw him, because the boy was yelling as if

    he had never been fed. Queen's spirit sank, but she tapped on the door

    and went into the room.

"There you are at last!" Mrs. Benson cried.

    Mrs. Benson was certainly angry, but it was not quite the wrath that

    Queen expected. Although the words were harsh, and the tone, there was

    also a tinge of relief in her voice. William was on her knee, and she was

    trying to feed him bread soaked in warm milk, but he didn't want that.

    Queen started an apology, but Mrs. Benson had to have her say.

    "The boy's been awake all night long," she complained. "I haven't had a

    wink of sleep, nor poor Mr. Benson, with so much on his mind."

    The room was a mess, for it was true: Mrs. Benson had been up half the

    night, trying to calm William, and change his linen, and at the same time

    assure her husband that all was well. It was another hot day, and she was

    cross with Queen for causing this interruption to her domestic

    arrangements, but not for anything else.

    "I's sorry," Queen apologized again. She had expected to be sacked, but

    now she didn't think that was going to happen, or not until William had

    been fed. She went to the boy, who quieted immediately and sought her

    breast through her blouse. Queen smiled at him, and told him to be

    patient. She sat on a chair and fed him, while Mrs. Benson made vain

    attempts to clean up the room, which smelled of baby.

"Aren't you going to tell me where you've been?" she

    QUEEN 703

demanded of Queen, and rang the bell to summon servants.

    Queen was puzzled. Although tetchy, Mrs. Benson was almost friendly to

    her, as if she'd been a naughty girl who had done some silly trivial

    wrong, and, the crisis over, was expected to share her naughty secrets.

    She tried to think of some lie that would satisfy Mrs. Benson, but none

    came to her.

    "'Men let me guess," Mrs Benson said, and sat at the table. "You've been

    with Abner's father, perhaps?"

    Queen did not look at her, but concentrated on the feeding William. She

    felt a rush of fear, because she did not know how Mrs. Benson knew of

    Davis or what her reaction would be. She blushed, and kept her head down.

    "Oh, don't be silly, Queen," Mrs. Benson laughed. "I saw you in the

    street yesterday, the way you looked at that wretched union man and told

    Abner he was his father. I know you lied to me when you told me you

    didn't know him."

    Queen's fear gave way to relief, for now she understood how Mrs. Benson

    knew, and it didn't seem devious.

"Yes, m'm" was all Queen said.

    There was a knock at the door, and a maid appeared. Mrs. Benson ordered

    a tray of breakfast for two, and busied herself at the washstand. She

    chattered about nothing and everything while she waited for breakfast,

    and Queen began to think that the woman was trying to make some girlish,

    foolish contact with her. She felt kindly toward Mrs. Benson, and

    relieved that someone else knew her secret.

    The staff arrived, and Mrs. Benson had breakfast set out on the table,

    while Queen changed William and put him down. When she came back from the

    nursery, Mrs. Benson was sitting at the table and another place was laid.

    For Mr. Benson, Queen assumed, but again, Mrs. Benson surprised her.

    "Sit down here with me," she said, "and have some breakfast, I'm sure

    you're hungry."

    Queen was very hungry; she'd had nothing to eat since her dinner the

    previous night. She pulled out the chair, sat on the edge of it, and took

    a piece of toast.

    "That's not enough," Mrs. Benson said. "We have to look after you, for

    William's sake."

    She piled a plate with eggs and toast, passed it to Queen, and began to

    eat herself.

704 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

    "Now," she said when Queen had relaxed sufficiently to feel comfortable.

    "Tell me about Abner's father."

Still, Queen was cautious, and Mrs. Benson giggled.

    "He's so very handsome," she said, like a schoolgirl with a crush. Queen

    smiled too, and told her a little of Davis. Not much, just trivial,

    womanly things, and Mrs. Benson's eyes were bright with gossip and she

    shared a few secrets of her own married life. When they were done, Mrs.

    Benson took her shopping, but said they should be off the streets that

    aftemoon for she had heard that there was to be a big strike parade and

    there could be trouble. It was best for the women to keep out of the way.

    Queen was entranced by her consideration, and felt herself warming to

    Mrs. Benson as the day went on. From the hotel windows, they watched the

    parade of strikers through the street in the early afternoon, with Davis

    being carried on the shoulders of some of the men. Queen was filled with

    pride, and pointed him out to Abner. White workers lined the streets,

    jeering the procession, and there were some fights.

    Mrs. Benson made a lot of complimentary comments about Davis, and tutted

    about the violence, and Queen forgot that she had said that the

    ringleaders ought to be shot. Queen saw Mr. Benson standing in the street

    with some other businessmen, watching the parade, and she asked why he

    was not with his wife. Mrs. Benson said something vague about business,

    and suggested that Queen must be tired and should have a nap.

    Queen was very tired; she hadn't really slept since yesterday. She took

    Abner to her room, lay down with him on the bed, and fell fast asleep

    with her son in her arms, dreaming of the boy's father.

She awoke, some hours later, at sundown, to an urgent tapping on the door,

and she heard a fierce whisper.

"Queen!" It was Mrs. Benson. "Wake up-!"

    She roused herself, blinked the sleep from her eyes, and opened the door.

    Mrs. Benson slipped into the room and shut the door. She was agitated,

    apparently frightened.

    "You must go to him, Abner's father," she whispered, her eyes wide with

    fear. Queen, still fuddled by sleep, did not quite understand.

    QUEEN 705

    "Get him away," Mrs. Benson said urgently. "They know where he is, and

    he is in danger."

    Queen was awake now, and caught Mrs. Benson's sense of fear but didn't

    know what to do. She looked at Abner.

    "I'll keep Abner safe with me till you return," Mrs. Benson assured her.

    Still it didn't make sense to Queen; she went to Abner, picked him up,

    gave him to Mrs. Benson, and looked about the room, pulled at her dress.

    "Quickly, take a horse from the stable," Mrs. Benson said, with more