Drum (54 page)

"Thank you, Mr. Maxwell." Augusta placed the money in her reticule without counting it. "We shall understand thai this is my salary for a year. Next year, if you decide to retain my services, I shall expect a like amount."

"Granted." Hammond was glad that the womaa was business-like.

"And I hope I may serve you well, Mr. Maxwell. Ai Madame may have told you, I am not untrained in the duties of a mistress. Although my father's plantation was small anc we had only some thirty slaves, I did look out for them."

"At Falconhurst we gotten 'bout four hundred, ma'am,' Hammond stated rather proudly. Once more he bowed hi leave-taking and opened the door, nearly colliding witl Drumson who was waiting outside, straining to listen to wha was happening. Drumson's dark skin was a welcome relie after the surfeit of white to which Hammond had just beei exposed.

"Come on, boy, le's get the hell out of here."

"Yes suh, Mr. Hammond, yes suh." Drumson too was will ing to leave. After his short glimpse of the outside world, th close restriction of the Academy oppressed him.

Alix waited imtil she heard their footsteps descending th stairs and turned to Augusta who was still standing befoi her.

"Well, Gussie, what do you think of him?"

"He's handsomer than I had imagined. He's yoimg. He's rich." She clutched Alix' hand and patted it. "It will not be difficult. I might even fall in love with him."

"And when you get to be Mrs. Hammond Maxwell of Fal-conhurst...."

"I shall not forget who made it possible for me to become that." Augusta patted Alix' hand again and the two women exchanged glances.

chapter vi

i

It had been such a long ride—such a tiresome, plodding, dusty journey over rutted roads which at times were little more than weed-grown cart paths; through small, poverty-stricken, slab-sided villages; past impainted, decrepit farmhouses. Only occasionally was there a prosperous-looking plantation where the big house gleamed white through the long avenue of live oaks that bordered the entrance drive. It had been such a hot ride—^three days of blinding sun, rising dust and streaming sweat. It seemed to stretch into eternity as mile after weary mile of fields, woods and grubby countryside rolled by, all looking so depressingly familiar that one day became identical with the one that preceded it and the one that followed it. The journey was so long that Drumson despaired of ever reaching Falconhurst. The farther they progressed, the more-it seemed to recede into the distance. He had left New Orleans in high spirits, feeling that he was on the very edge of some new and great adventure which would transport him from his old familiar, imeventful life into another which promised something much more colorful and exciting. Their departure from the city had been early; in the morning when New Orleans was just awakening and: the streets nearly deserted. Their three vehicles made quitei an impressive caravan. First came the new barouche, shiny with varnish, bright with paint and impressive with its gray* broadcloth cushions and its raised top of smooth black' leather. Ajax, his imiform carefully brushed and cleaned by Drumson, sat on the high box, driving Mrs. Devereaux and, Regine, the quadroon girl Hammond had purchased at{ Maspero's. Regine, far more beautiful than any girl Drumson had ever seen before, with a tea-rose complexion and long, curling black hair, sat primly, as befitted her role of servant' to Mrs. Devereaux. She was dressed quietly in black, with little bands of white at the high neck and long cuffs, her face nearly hidden in a black poke boimet. Augusta, properly

garbed for traveling in shiny gray alpaca, wore the same rose-trimmed bonnet she had worn the first day Hammond had seen her. They were the only occupants of the barouche and Drumson felt proud of Miz Augusta, as he had been taught to call her, for her good looks and her modish clothes.

Hammond had instructed him that he was to obey her in all things and that, just as he was his master and owner, Miz Augusta would be his mistress. Although his pride and respect were already given to Augusta, his eyes were only for the beautiful Regine, who sat beside her. She, however, scarcely noticed him. Her eyes were only for Hammond. And, Drum-son observed, so were those of Miz Augusta. Just let Hammond approach the carriage and both were all smiles and fluttery compliance. When Drumson came near them he was treated kindly but impersonally. Yet he had caught Regine looking at him and he knew that she was aware of him.

Following the carriage with its varnished elegance, Hammond drove a team of mules, hitched to a long farm wagon in which rode his six new purchases—four lithesome, dark-skinned wenches, Phronia, Lesbia, Ann-Mary and Balsam, whom he had purchased along with Regine from Maspero. In truth, the four had cost him only a little more than he had paid for the beauteous Regine. He had purchased her for the clarity of her skin and the beauty of her face, but these four had been bought for their strength and their potential ability to bear children. That they were good-looking, too, was important, for Hammond had no desire to produce ugly slaves. They ranged in age from a possible fourteen to perhaps sixteen, but all were nubile, approaching the time when they would, Hammond hoped, produce a sucker a year for him until he sold them in their early twenties.

His other two purchases were two young brothers, one eight, the other ten. He had picked them up cheap. In bone structure and physique they promised to be healthy, valuable properties in another eight or ten years.

Although Drumson had never had any experience as a driver, he was given charge of the last team of mules and the big wagon they drew. This was piled high with luggage—Miz Augusta's numerous boxes, Regine's modest one, Drumson's own neat package. Hammond's valises, and the meager bundles the slaves had brought with them. In the back of the wagon, separated from Drumson by the pile of luggage, rode Meg and Alph, completely isolated from the rest of the party, their legs chained with spancels, their hands manacled

and themselves chained to the wagon. They sprawled on the floor, their legs hanging down over the tailboard, utterly miserable in their isolation. Hanmiond had never spoken a word to them since the day he purchased them. He had turned a deaf ear to all their pleadings, not even looking at them and completely ignoring them whenever he chanced to come near. What few orders he gave were passed on to them through Drumson who had strict orders to have no other communication with them. From his position up front he could hear but not always distinguish their mumbled conversation; much of the time Meg was sobbing and Alph cursing.

The first night en route they all spent at a large cotton plantation not far from the Louisiana-Mississippi line. Although the house had, at one time, possessed considerable grandeur, it was now only shabbily genteel, with evidences of approaching poverty in the threadbare carpets, the worn upholsteries and the faded curtains. It was evident by the reception they received that Hammond had been here before. Much ado was made over him by the master and mistress, and the two unmarried daughters of the household were charmingly in evidence, dressed in their best, fluttering their fans and never missing an opportvmity to exclaim "la, Mr. Maxwell." Augusta was treated as coldly as was compatible with good manners for it was evident that she presented a threat to the hopeful aspirations of the two daughters. That night Drumson slept on a tnmdle bed in Hammond's room, and Regine with Augusta. The female slaves were quartered in a hastily vacated cabin to which Hammond held the key. Meg and Alph were securely spancelled in the horse bam along with Shoat and Jackson, although the two young boys were not restrained. They showed no disposition to nm away, and were plainly grateful for the three plentiful meals a day Hammond provided and for the mothering and companionship of the four girls.

The second night was spent at an ordinary on the Tombig-bee River, whose course they were to follow north until they arrived at Falconhurst. Here there was only one large room available and there had been some problem in deciding how they were to sleep. The proprietress of the tavern, a tall. gaunt woman in a torn calico dress, taking it for granted that Hammond and Augusta were man and wife, had showr them to the room, which contained a large bedstead, spreac over with a soiled coverlet. But on being informed by Ham-

i

mond that he and Augusta were not married, the woman had grudgingly allowed Augusta to share her bed. The slaves, she insisted, must be quartered in the barn, which Hammond felt was safe enough; with Meg and Alph secured, the wenches would be in no particular danger either from the aged stableman or from Shoat and Jackson. This left only the disposal of Regine and Drumson, neither of whom Hammond would allow to stay in the barn, stating that he needed Drumson's services and that Regine was obviously too good to sleep in the hay. As there was no room for her in the restricted quarters which Augusta shared with the lady owner, Hammond solved the problem by ordering a shuck mattress placed in front of his door for Regine and a blanket spread on the floor of his room for Drumson.

When, however, Drumson had undressed his master and then himself and was about to blow out the candle, Hammond restrained him.

"Let that Regine girl come in here with me and you sleep out in the hallway."

Drumson opened the door and signaled to her to come in. She looked at him, wondering just what was required of her, but Hammond called to her softly from the bed and she ran across the floor. Heavy in heart, Drumson went out and closed the door. But he could not sleep. He could hear the movements inside—the rustle of the shuck mattress, the creak of the bed cords and all the little moans and sighs, the meaning of which he knew too well. Every fiber ached to be in Hammond's place. His anguish mounted until it seemed unendurable, and even his self-inflicted release, accompanied by those same little moans, brought him no respite. Finally there was a stillness and not long after, the door opened quietly and Regine came out. Drumson heard Hammond's voice.

"Come in here, boy, and go to bed."

He slept fitfully, and awakened early in the morning while Hammond was still sleeping. His roving eyes caught a splotch of rumpled white on the floor which he was certain had not been there the night before. He rose and picked up the garment; it was Regine's shift. He buried his face in it, smelling the faint odor of her, which again excited him, but he knew he must dispose of it. He tiptoed to the door to return it to her, but as he opened the door to drop it on her bed, Augusta, fully dressed, passed by. She looked at the telltale garment in his hand and then at him. It was sufficient

to tell her exactly what had happened. The color mounted j to her face, then dramed, leaving it curiously white.

"Good morning, Drumson," she said. "I hope your master i slept well last night"

"Yes ma'am, Miz 'Gusta, he shore did." Drumson dropped the offending garment on the still sleeping Regine and closed the door.

All the next day Drumson noticed that there was a decided coolness between Augusta and Hammond and an even more decided coolness between her and Regine. She answered Hammond's questions civilly and abruptly with a clipped measurement to her words which Drumson noted but Hammond completely disregarded.

The third night, they were quartered at a splendid plantation where Hammond once again was a welcome guest and where every provision was made for their comfort. As there were no marriageable daughters here, Augusta was received with as nmch warmth by the mistress as Hammond was by the master, and here, as on the first night, Drumson occupied a room alone with Hanoimond, and Regine had a closet off Augusta's room. The next morning Augusta was once again treating Regine with kindness and her pique with Hammond seemed to have disappeared.

When they stopped at noon on their fourth day, Hammond pointed out familiar landmarks, with the assurance that the) would be at Falconhurst in another hour or so. A short timt later, they passed through a dismal Uttle village which wan^ dered down two sides of a dusty street. It boasted the usua tavern and livery stable with loungers in the door; a genera store whose porch was crowded with a motley collection oi farm tools, washtubs and barrels; several tired-looking shop; and a few residences upon which the dust of the road hac settled, giving them a dull gray appearance. As they passec through the village, Drumson noticed that the men in th( doorway of the livery stable hailed Hammond, and tw< women, passing in the street, bowed to him. Drumson couI< see that his master was well known here.

"Thinkin' we'se at Benson," Drumson heard Meg say. "No fur now to Falconhurst. Be glad to git there."

"And git rid o' these goddam spancels," Alph answered.

"And see mammy."

"And get me a drink of com."

About three miles the other side of the town, Drumsoi saw Ajax turn the carriage off the road into a weed-growt

rutted lane which led straight up a rather steep knoll to an imposing house, which stood, painfully exposed in barren grandeur, about a quarter of a mile away. The pure lines of its pseudo-Greek elegance rose starkly over the dusty fields where rows of blackened stubble testified mutely to abandoned cotton fields. It reared itself to an imposing height of three stories over a bam and carriage house behind it, the third story having dormer windows under a sloping roof. In the front, four soaring white pillars, Ionic crowned, which reached from the foxmdation to the roofline, held up a semicircular porch and stood out with startling clarity against the pinkish-red bricks. No tree, bush nor shrub softened the raw newness of the house, only the green of rampant weeds.

Seeing Ajax and the carriage turn into this lane, Drumson had expected that Hammond and his wagon would follow them. To his surprise, Hammond continued along the main road and signaled, by standing up and waving, that Drumson was to follow him. Hanmiond continued, however, only a short distance, turning in at a much more traveled lane, between two wooden fence posts, to where a weatherbeaten two-story house, with a sweeping roof which hooded an upstairs and downstairs gallery, sat somnolently and a bit sway-backed a few hundred feet from the main road. Where the new house had risen starkly from the rough, raw fields, this one was shaded by trees and nestled comfortably to the earth in a bed of tangled greenery—tall sunflowers, un-pruned rose bushes, crepe myrtle, rank weeds and matted aowers, among which hens, guinea fowl and turkeys scratched, cackled and gobbled. The only sign of life was a group of naked pickaninnies, playing in the dust by the worn wooden steps that led up to the house. These, however, provided the alarum which turned the sleepy house into a frenzy 'of activity.