Queen (118 page)

    who had sometimes taken his pleasure with a slave woman, half black, half

    Cherokee, called Sabrina. It was a casual relationship, and when a son,

    Alec, was bom, he became a child of the plantation, owned by the Massa.

    An honest and industrious boy, he grew up in the protection of the

    extended family that slave life provided. His several surrogate fathers

    taught him well, and by the time he was a young man he could turn his

    hand to almost any job that the plantation required. He accepted his

    slavery only because he had no known other life, but he deeply resented

    his lack of freedom, his inability to choose his own life, and be his own

    Massa. The fact that he was never whipped did not reduce his hostility;

    it was injustice enough that he was not free.

    A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 721

    But he was cheerful and energetic, and looked for the best in all other

    aspects of his life. Shortly before the end of the war he fell in love

    with a tiny slave called Teenie, and married her when freedom came to

    them. He could have stayed on the plantation because Massa Haley

    respected his ability, but Alec had a young man's zest for adventure. He

    and Teenie set off to discover the world with their new daughter, Minnie.

    He took work where he could find it, as a farmhand, or driving cattle to

    the railroad, but times were hard in Alabama. Looking for opportunity,

    they headed North. They never got farther than Tennessee. In Savannah,

    Alec, looking for work, had been engaged by Mr. Cherry, and after proving

    his skill on the land, was given some acres to sharecrop. It was a hard

    life but a rewarding one. They were blessed with a son, whom they called

    Freeland, for this was the land of their freedom, and another daughter,

    Julie, and Teeme modified her name to Tennie, in honor of the state that

    was their new home.

    Tragedy struck when Tennie died in childbirth. Alec grieved for her

    sorely, and for a time lost his appetite for life, Mr. Cherry, perhaps

    as a form of solace for Alec, whom he liked and admired, purchased a boat

    to institute a ferry service across the river, and offered him the

    management of it. It was the balm that Alec needed. He loved the river

    life. He loved the river on sunny days, when the sun sparkled on the

    water, and the paddle steamers chugged by. He loved the river on cloudy

    days, when the fisherman came out in force, sitting for hours in the hope

    of a bite, cogitating the world, and calmed by their own unhurried pace

    and the reluctant appetite of the fish. He loved the river in the summer

    momings, when mist obscured the shores, and he loved it on winter days,

    when the crisp cold gave him something to complain about. He loved the

    fall, when the changing colors of the leaves delighted his eye, and he

    loved it in the spring, when he was filled with a sense of the renewal

    of life. He still farmed his acres, with the help of George, a local lad,

    an orphan who was like a son to him, but the river was his obsession.

    Apart from a few itinerant travelers, he knew most of his passengers by

    name, and much of the detail of their lives, and he basked in their

    endless, idle gossip and chatter. He was kind to those in need of

    assistance, stem with those who offended him, and did his best to provide

722 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

his children with a good home life. In many ways his life was full, but an

important part of his heart was empty. He missed Tennie sorely, and he was

lonely.

He looked at the thin, frail woman sitting on the bench, her child held

firmly in her protective embrace, and guessed that North was an ambivalent

destination for her, an ideal to cling to because she had nothing else, and

wished he could help and give her some other purpose. He had seen an endless

procession of freed slaves head North, only to return weeks, months, years

later, with nothing in their pockets but broken dreams. And for all those

who came back, he knew ten times that number stayed, in disillusion.

    He wondered where the woman would sleep that night, or what she would eat.

    He had seen that her purse was almost empty, and seized the moment. They

    were about halfway across the river.

    "That girl of your'n still looking for a job?" he called to Fred, the bald

    passenger, who was an old sparring partner.

    Fred stared at Alec in surprise. "She ain't lookin' fo' a job," he said.

    His daughter had a job, a good one, nanny to a white family.

    "Well, if'n you hear of anyone..." Alec shrugged. "Massa Cherry's been

    looking to' help this past two month, and no fool girl's got the sense to

    apply."

    Although it was said to Fred, he spoke loudly, above the rain, so that the

    woman would hear.

    "Good job fo' someone," he continued. "Room and board and good eatin'. And

    you know Dora, who cooks for Massa Cherry, she c'n make mean victuals. Her

    hog ribs with barbecue sauce-oh, man, that's eatin'."

    He knew he had struck home, because he saw a flicker of interest in the

    woman's eyes, and pushed his point.

"An' her pumpkin pie, and her peach cobbler-"

    But the mouths of the other passengers were watering too. It was late in

    the day; they were on their way home and looking forward to a good dinner.

    They shouted him down with aggrieved announcements that they hadn't eaten

    yet, or were hungry, or that their Missus could make the best peach pie in

    the country. The woman didn't respond to the din.

    A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 723

    "Jus' sayin'. " Alec shrugged again. "You cain't get a good hog up North.

    They all skinny ol' things up there."

    He docked the ferry at the northern jetty, and the passengers crowded

    off, bidding him farewell, hungry for their dinners. The woman quit the

    ferry with them, and stood on the shore for a moment as if wondering

    which way to go. New passengers began crowding on, jostling each other

    and complaining of the rain. Alec, who had been busy tying up the line,

    looked up to take the fares, and could see no sign of the woman. He

    shrugged and returned to his business.

    They sailed south again, and Alec could not get her out of his mind, an

    itty-bitty thing, who carried such a sense of hopelessness with her. He

    had done all he could; he had planted a seed and it hadn't taken. He

    wished her well, wherever she was, and fell into conversation about the

    grasshopper plague in the west.

    Freeland was waiting for him on the southern side, and dashed from the

    trees to help his father tie up. Fresh from school, which he hated,

    Freeland loved to work on the ferry with his father. School was a pain

    in the you know what. He helped passengers off and new ones on, and was

    allowed to take the fares, because he was good at counting.

    "Y'c'n count good, an' you never had much schoolin'," he said to his

    father, and barked an unnecessary order to the passengers. "All aboard!"

    "I still have trouble countin' past ten," his father grinned, and cast

    off.

    To Freeland, it was all grossly unfair. He could count past ten, he could

    count to anything, he did most of the money counting for his pappy, and

    he wanted to leave school and work on the farm, like George, his hero.

    He never missed an opportunity for stressing his case to his father,

    especially on the ferry, and did so now, as they headed north. But Alec

    was adamant.

    "You stayin' till you done sixth grade," Alec told him sharply, as he did

    almost every day. "It's what yo' mammy wanted. "

    It was the habitual end of the argument, and Freeland sighed, stared at

    the river, and dreamed of being as old as George, who was sixteen.

724 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

    Alec was sympathetic to his son's ambition. He'd never had much schooling,

    but had done well enough in life. He thought education was a waste of a

    boy's time, but counting was important, and he'd made a promise to Tennie.

    Besides, the discipline wouldn't harm Freeland, and he was still too small

    to be much use on the land.

    He guided the ferr y to the northern jetty, and was surprised to see the

    woman standing under a tree, her child still clutched to her. He felt a

    small sense of satisfaction. She had risen to his bait. Now she had to be

    hooked. He nodded a greeting to her, but she didn't respond. Freeland

    helped the leaving passengers off and the new ones embark, took the fares

    and saw Queen.

"Y' comin' on, lady?" he called. "Only a nickel."

    Everyone was staring at her, because she was holding up the departure.

    Queen hesitated. She wanted to go back south, she wanted the job the

    ferryman had talked about, she wanted food for herself and her boy, and she

    wanted a warm dry place to sleep. There was only one problem.

    "I ain't got a nickel," she cried out suddenly. "I ain't got one red cent.

    I ain't got nuttin'! "

    It was passionately spoken, and everyone looked at her in astonishment,

    mingled with some small pity for her plight, and annoyance, because they

    wanted to be on their way. Alec took charge.

    "Now I cain't hardly charge you fo' takin' you back where you came from,"

    he called. "Only don't tell all these other niggers, else they'll all want

    a free ride."

    The passengers laughed. They knew the woman would ride for free, because

    Alec was a kind man and she looked so poor, and they knew they'd all pay

    their own fares without hesitation, but with considerable, vocal complaint.

    It added a spark of interest to an otherwise ordinary ferry crossing.

    Queen, angry at having to reveal her poverty and furious at their laughter,

    made her way to the boat. She wouldn't take charity, she told Alec

    grumpily. As soon as she got a job, as soon as she got back on her feet,

    she would repay him. Alec smiled, and agreed that was the best solution.

    Queen settled on the bench and glared angrily at the other passengers.

"Y'all quit staring at me, y'hear?" she shouted. "What you

    A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 725

think I am, white trash? I's black like you, so you keep yo' eyes off me."

    Everyone looked the other way and pretended they hadn't heard. Except

    Alec, who couldn't take his eyes off her.

    "An' that goes for you too," she shouted at him now. "You and all men,

    y'all got just one thing on your minds, and I ain't got no time fo' none

    of you!"

    Her fury was formidable, and her performance spectacular. It drew murmurs

    of agreement and appreciation from the other passengers, who variously

    assured her that they heard her and wouldn't look at her.

    Except Alec, who simply watched her, and she, perhaps embarrassed,

    changed Abner to her other arm, and stared at the river.

Freeland was wide-eyed in wonder.

    "Glory be, Pops," he said. "That is one mean-tempered woman."

    "Ain't she just," Alec agreed, clearly impressed by her. They sailed

    south. Queen's temper was almost permanently mean these days, for she

    wore her troubles, her deep anger and her heartbreak, about her like a

    shroud, and the world responded to her in kind.

She had never gone back to Mrs. Benson, but some strikers, aware of her

relationship to Davis, took pity on her, and gave her shelter. They had

little else to give her because they had so little themselves, and when

the strike was broken, only days later, they had even less. But their

spirits, unlike Queen's, were not broken. They had not succeeded this

time, but Davis had given them a sense of purpose and unity, and a belief

in the future. Three years later they would strike again, and this time

they would succeed, but Queen was not there for their victory. She hated

Beaufort, for it reminded her of Davis, and she set off on her journey

again, with no idea of where she was going, except to find some small

elusive peace. She did not go North, for if she had gone there and found

unhappiness again, where else was left to her? Without clearly

understanding what she was doing, she headed east, back to Georgia, to

Alabama, and to Florence. If she had thought about it, she would not have

believed that The Forks represented any kind of sanctuary, but

726 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

she didn't think about anything anymore; her only concern was for Abner's

survival, and, to a lesser extent, her own.

    Without direction, without ambition, she existed, rather than lived. Her

    temper quickened and her speech coarsened. She accepted rides from

    strangers, but would not talk to them, only to her child. She hardened her

    heart against the world, because she had lost all sense of trust in other