Second Daughter (14 page)

I sat in a corner, hoping the mistress would ignore my presence. The mistress rushed to Bett. “Oh, Bett. How are you? Let me see that arm.”

“My arm is painful,” Bett said matter-of-factly. “It's not good to uncover it.” She refused to show the wound.

“Bett,” the mistress cried. “Bett, you know I'd do nothing to harm you. I lost my temper.” She looked around the room and when she saw me, she went stiff and no words would come. I fled the room.

I joined others at work in the fields, but Bett could do no work with that arm. My sister was quiet, and when I tried to talk to her, she refused to talk. We were busy trying to keep her arm from getting worse. Luckily Bett knew how to keep the wound clean and loosely wrapped to let it air. The herbs and salves were healing, but the scar tissue had to be removed daily to keep the wound from pulling the arm out of shape with the scarring. It was very painful. At night I heard her praying, but mostly for our release.

24

Two weeks later, we asked permission to go with Brom to Bett's farm to pick up our belongings. The master consented. On the way, Brom was quiet.

“What is it, Brom?” I asked.

“I'm ashamed that I could not protect you and Bett.”

“Don't be ashamed, Brom,” Bett said. “To have hit her would have meant your death. I could not bear losing you, too,” Bett said.

“But what am I worth if I can't protect my sisters? Just breathing is not a life. Bett, I'm a man.”

“Surely you are, Brom.” Then we were silent. As if speaking to herself, Bett said, “I meant what I said. I'm not going back!” She looked at Brom. “I have the money from Josiah; he wanted me to use it to buy freedom. That constitution that says we are all born free and equal means you and me. We're going to see a lawyer.”

“You're a woman and can't stand in the courts,” Brom said.

“Brom, you can,” I said.

“We'll do it together,” Bett promised.

So instead of going for our things, we set out to find the only lawyer near that Bett knew. There was no certainty that he would even listen, but there wasn't much time, and I sensed that Bett had to act now for fear of losing control of the situation. She must not wait.

We walked a great distance to get to the Sedgwick place. It was late when we arrived. The house was nothing like the master's but it was well built for comfort.

Before Brom knocked on the door, Bett looked at me and said, “Let me do all the talking unless I ask you to say something.” A young girl answered the door, with a look of surprise to see Brom and the rest of us on the steps. She asked us in and went immediately for her father. I noticed a wan woman on a small cot; she had dark circles under her large, pale eyes.

Master Sedgwick invited us into a small room crowded with a desk and books in shelves on the wall. We stood while Bett told him that she wanted to obtain his help to win her freedom.

“I am not sure I can help you. There is no specific law on which I can base your case.”

“What about the constitution that states we are all born free and equal?”

He looked surprised. “What do you know about the constitution?” he asked.

“I keep quiet and listen. I heard what was said in Master Ashley's house. On what I heard, I believe we can be freed.”

“Bett, you know that your master is my friend. He is good to his servants, and both he and your mistress think the world of you. They always brag about what a good servant you are and how they could not do without your help.”

Bett smiled and I thought, Surely Bett knows we are not servants; we are slaves, and the master and mistress are not good to us.

The lawyer went on, “Besides, there being no specific law, I'm afraid I would not want to take a case against a fine, outstanding citizen who is also a judge.”

“Maybe there is no law. But the people wanted a law to say that slavery is wrong. Twice they asked for such a law, and the king and his governors said no,” Bett said.

As she was speaking, the lawyer, Tapping Reeve, was led into the room. “Why, Tapping, how good to see you. Bear with me,” Lawyer Sedgwick said. “These people will be leaving in a minute.”

“I'm in your area on a case and wanted to say hello. Don't let me interrupt what must be business.” He turned to Bett. “I run into you everywhere in this town.”

“She is quite a person, a good servant to our friend Judge Ashley.”

“Slave, not servant,” I said.

Bett gave me a withering look and said, “Mr. Reeve, my sister is for saying aloud what she thinks. Please don't mind her.”

“So am I, and there
is
a difference between servant and slave,” Reeve said.

“Yes,” Sedgwick said, “and, Tapping, knowing you, it may be of interest that Bett is here seeking freedom under our state's constitution. I told her that there is nothing specific in that document that grants a slave's right to freedom.”

“Hmm, that is most interesting,” Reeve answered.

“It is interesting, but I hesitate because she has no complaints of any abuse. Her master is a good, kind man who does justice by his servants.”

Why does he keep saying “servants”? I wondered. We are slaves! I wanted to remind him again. He went on. “There is absolutely no proof that there has been abuse.”

I waited for Bett to show them that ugly wound. Bett sat, her chest rising and falling; she was like a dam filled to overflowing. Show them! I wanted to shout to her. Then Bett said, “Words describing a
good
and
kind
master do not go together when talking about slavery.” Her voice broke as she said, “With or without wounds, we deserve to be free.”

“Please,” I said, looking at Bett crying, “my sister is not crying for your pity. She wants only justice, which she feels can come in that bill of rights.”

“Maybe we can make hers
the
test case to see if your constitution with its bill of rights is more than words—a working law capable of ending slavery,” Reeve said.

“We might be able to do something by appealing to the sentiments of the people as Bett has suggested, and this time end this slave business under the constitution,” Master Sedgwick said.

“I'll be happy to join you in defense of her. But can a woman stand in your courts?” Reeve asked.

Bett spoke quickly. “My brother, Brom, here is willing to stand, sir, and the money you were kind enough to help me get will pay the fees.”

“Oh, don't worry about money,” Sedgwick said. “If we win we'll insist that Colonel Ashley pay the fees and pay you something, too. This case can be a groundbreaker.”

As we were leaving, the woman on the cot beckoned to Bett, and Bett urged us to go on as she went to speak to her. We walked the miles back and Brom and I said little. “Servants,” he said, and nothing more, and I knew what he meant.

We were anxious to get back, but Bett took her time coming. What if the master came looking for us and found her at the Sedgwicks'? When Bett finally came, she reported, “That woman was Master Sedgwick's wife. She is in bad shape in both body and mind. Her baby is less than a year old and she's expecting another. I think I'll go and help her.”

“How can you think of helping somebody when you don't know what the master is up to? How do you know we won't be going to jail or be sold off somewhere?”

“He wouldn't dare. He's too well known and wouldn't want people to know that his wife had done such a thing. Besides, he is a judge himself, and has to respect the law.”

“What law? They keep telling you we are under no law,” I said heatedly, for knowing Bett I was afraid she might take this too lightly.

“They said they would take the case, so I am not going to worry. I must heal my arm.” That was that. She refused to talk anymore about what we were going to do.

When we arrived at the master's, Sarah was waiting for us in our quarters. “The mistress is very angry that you were allowed to go away. ‘How do you know what they're up to?' she screamed to the master. She was so afraid you were not coming back. Don't be surprised if she tightens the noose.”

For days we were there as prisoners, working around the place with our hearts not in the work and our minds on nothing but being free. This went on day after day, with the master and Little John now keeping guard over us. Bett, because of the wound, did little work.

Two weeks later, the sheriff came with a court order to remove Bett and Brom. The order stated that the two were being held against their will and could not be so detained unless they were taken by the court for a crime such as murder. The master had to state why he was holding them.

The master flatly refused to let them go. He stated his reason: Bett and Brom were his servants for life and he claimed a right to their servitude.

After the sheriff had come three times with an order to free them, and the master refused each time, on May 28, 1781, the stage was set for the matter to come to trial. The court ordered release, but only if Bett and Brom could post bond to guarantee that their case would continue.

My sister was happy that she had enough for the bond, but worried about paying the lawyers. The bond was paid. Bett and Brom were freed, and the sheriff issued a summons to the Ashleys to appear at the next regular session of the Court of Common Pleas on August 21. Little Bett, taking on the status of her mother, was allowed to go.

“What about me?” I asked the master when my sister and brother were released.

“The mistress will decide.”

My heart felt swollen in my chest as it beat rapidly, and I felt weak. How could he put my fate in the hands of the mistress? He knew how she became like a whirlwind in a closet when I was around. This would be worse than Barbados. I did something that I had thought I would never do. “Please, master, let me live with my sister. You know that the mistress never wanted me. And I don't believe she is happy with me here. Please, let me go.”

“Go. I will talk to the mistress, and if she wants you back, you will come. In the meantime you must understand that you owe me, and I expect you to pay, for the years of service you still have ahead.”

I thought I would faint, but I held on. “Thank you, and I do understand.”

25

We stayed at the house. Bett went about her duties with her arm loosely bandaged to keep air flowing to the wound. Whenever someone asked what was wrong with it, she replied, “Ask the mistress Ashley.” She spent much of her time at the Sedgwicks', trying to get the children's mother well enough to perform the duties left to her when her husband was away, which was most of the time.

Brom and I worked our small plot and cleared more land around us that seemed to belong to no one, since much of the Indian land had been added to Sheffield and Great Barrington. I used my farming skills, making our plot look like the master's. We planted wheat, corn, squash, and potatoes, and cultivated the wild grapes and berries and apple trees on the place. We had only three maple trees, but if we were there the next spring we planned to bleed them and make syrup and sugar.

Little Bett blossomed, and I became her mother while Bett went daily to the Sedgwicks' and to other jobs. We were all grateful for work in the day. Our nights were spent wondering what was going to happen. I talked to Little Bett about freedom, and about that whispering man who was going to use the law to set us free.

We waited. Then one day Sarah came by. “The mistress is drowning in her sorrow. She can't pull herself together. She's now even claiming that Bett is the best cook in the world, not to mention housekeeper, nurse, and rippler of flax. When people ask what happened, she blames it all on you, Aissa, and your devilish ways.”

“I hope she never asks me to come back,” I said.

“They have been served notice that Bett and Brom are suing for their freedom. I think they are afraid to react, for the law is not clear. So they're waiting until their day in court. The master's hired David Noble from around here and John Canfield of Connecticut, two fine lawyers. I think, however, he was stunned when his good friend, Theodore Sedgwick, took Bett's case and was joined by, of all people, Tapping Reeve,
the
best lawyer anywhere. Master Ashley has even resigned his judgeship.”

“What is the mistress saying about all of this? She was proud to be a judge's wife,” I said.

“The mistress is as mad as a wet hen. She dislikes the Sedgwicks. Claims he's haughty though his father was nothing but a humble shopkeeper. His brother had to sacrifice to send him to Yale. She says his wife is insane and can do nothing but have babies. In a special place in the house she even lets him keep a picture of his first wife, who died of chicken pox. Can you believe that? Ask Bett if that's true.”

“My sister never talks about her patients. His wife is her patient now. If we learn the truth, it won't be from Bett.”

In June of 1781, Bett came home with news that a slave, Quok Walker, had brought suit against his master, Nathaniel Jennison, for assault, and had won. Before Bett could finish telling us, Sarah, to our surprise, came to see us, bringing a cake, some homemade rum, and apple cider. “Celebration time,” she said. She had heard the news at the Ashleys'. We had a great time and felt sure that Bett and Brom would win, and we all would be free.

Ayisha was now nine years old and a good worker. She had her father's smile, his good singing voice, and her mother's quiet poise; but there were moments, when she was crossed, she showed some of the fire that burned in me. I loved this child more than myself, and we worked well together.

Finally, in late August, word came that the court would, indeed, meet in Great Barrington on the twenty-first. Early on that morning, Brom, Bett, Little Bett, and I started the six-mile journey to Great Barrington. We dressed in our nicest calico, for the day was warm with the promise of heat ahead. Not knowing what to expect, we walked at a steady pace in silence. My mind was filled with doubts and fear. What if the court found no reason to free us and sent us back to the master? I tried to focus on the surroundings and the quiet of the forest, but I could not let go of the fear.