The Emancipation of Robert Sadler (8 page)

She ran her fingers along my cheek, “Honey, who done tole you heaven is jes fo white folk?”

Her touch was sweet, gentle. I wasn't used to such a touch. I stared at her.

“Chile, don't you pay no mind to them lies.”

Her face was so kind, without teeth and with deep creases and milky eyes. “Ceily, do Jesus live in heaven?”

“Yes, chile. He do.”

“And do they be colored people in heaven?”

“Yes, chile. They be.”

She laughed and gave my head a rub. Jerry, Amos, and Agatha laughed with her.

I felt kind of light and happy inside. “Fo a fact?”

“I spect so, chile, I spect so.”

She prayed again for me. Prayed that I would come to know the Lord and serve Him. “Come back and see me, chile,” she said.

I left her there with Harriet's children on her lap and made my way through the rows of shacks to the path leading to the Big House.

I deliberately passed the boys who had bullied me. If I ran from them, I'd never have face in the quarter. They watched me but didn't do or say anything. I passed Buck and Corrie's shanty, and they were sitting outside against the house in the heated shade. “Oh, Robert,” Corrie called as I came near. “I done forgot to tell yoll!”

“Ma'am?”

“Yoll be eight years old now!”

I was not too eager to return to the quarter after the fight with the colored boys. I didn't want any more trouble, and I knew what happened to spies or traitors. I wondered if that's not why Master Beal allowed me to go to the quarter, so I'd spy for him and get killed for doing it. I was no spy. I was no traitor. I'd just stay away from the quarter. I began, instead, to take long walks around the plantation. I discovered the location of the dreaded overseers' houses. To my amazement, they were little better than the shacks the slaves lived in. Thrasher's house was a small white-washed cabin with a tiny garden growing alongside it and a small shed for his horse and tools. I saw Mrs. Thrasher hanging out clothes on the clothesline, and playing around her were some raggedy babies.

On the afternoons I'd hide in the tall weeds and watch the slaves in the field hoeing cotton. I saw the whip rise and fall and I heard the low, mournful voices singing and groaning as they labored.

There was never a time when I left the Big House that Big Mac didn't know it. Sometimes he would be in the yard cleaning fish or in the back kitchen putting up pork, but he always knew when I was gone. When I returned, he'd be waiting for me. “Watch yo'self, boy,” he'd warn me. And if Master was drunk or in an evil temper, this was what I needed to know to keep out of his way.

One day as I returned from a walk in the woods alongside the far field, Mac was pulling water from the well on the porch. With one look, I knew there was danger in the kitchen. I ran from the porch and hid alongside the house, and from there I could hear Mistress beating the new house girl who had not pleased her in some chore.

The girl was about thirteen, pretty, with very black skin and a strong body. Her name was Tennessee. Mistress didn't take to her and she didn't like her name; she took to calling her Carolina instead. Tennessee didn't like the name Carolina because, she said, “My mama done name me Tennessee, that's where I be borned,” and she refused to answer to Carolina.

“You in Carolina now, girl!” Missus hollered, but Tennessee didn't flinch. She looked like she was bored when Missus hollered at her.

Tennessee never moved quickly enough and never seemed to be afraid of Master or Mistress. Whenever Mistress screamed at her or hit her, she just sneered or looked at her with that cold look in her eye. There was nothing Mistress could do to break her.

Then one afternoon when Master was in the house, Tennessee sat down at the white folks' table and buttered herself a piece of bread. Even Mary Webb was shocked. She reached for a knife to throw, but as she did, Master entered the room. “I'll handle this!” Tennessee didn't even look up. She just took a bite of the bread and sat chomping on it. Master watched her eat the whole thing and didn't say a word. I thought sure there'd be a whupping. But Master Beal just turned, left, and didn't even say one word.

Living in the house that summer was like sitting on a keg of dynamite. There were always fights. Mistress and Master fought and yelled at one another whenever they were together. The overseers fought, too, because there was a lot of rivalry and jealousy among them.

I got up the courage to run to the quarter during these months to see Miss Ceily. She was always happy to see me. I would help her with the children in her charge if I could. One of Tennessee's chores was to carry the large caldron of corn mush at noontime for the children, and she would linger a moment to talk. Miss Ceily was so filled with compassion and mercy that Tennessee warmed up to her right away.

One of Miss Ceily's sons was sick in bed. His name was John Henry, and he was about eighteen years old. He had worked in the field since he was eleven. The bed he lay in was only a 12-inch slab of wood with a little pile of sticks for a pillow. In the humidity and heat, the floor of the shanty smelled of wet earth. I sat with John Henry and dipped cool water on his face. He had the fever and moaned all day. Ceily prayed over him and didn't seem to be at all worried about his condition. “The Lord's healin is on him,” she said confidently.

One day when Tennessee came with the mush for the children, she had a jar of honey tucked under her skirts, which she presented to Ceily. “It's for yo son who be ailin, Ma'am,” she said.

Ceily took it, and they came into the cabin to John Henry's bedside, where I was sitting. I saw John's face when he saw Tennessee. It was as though a little light went on in his eyes.

John Henry got well just like Ceily said he would and was back picking cotton in a couple of days.

Every chance Tennessee got, she would be at Ceily's shanty or else John Henry would be at the shanty where Tennessee lived. I noticed that Tennessee was becoming a little more lively.

On a bright August morning when the slaves were all in the field and I was helping peel apples in the kitchen, I was given charge of baby Anna again. I wasn't very happy about it.

“Why can't Tennessee or one of the girls mind Anna?”

“Yors ain't to question, Robert. Massuh done gived the order.”

I wanted to dislike the blond-haired girl. I had no intention of treating her with any kindness.

“Go 'head an' climb up on Robert's lap, honey,” Miss Harriet prodded.

Anna looked up at me with sparkling blue eyes and a shy smile, and then she threw open her arms and climbed into my lap. Her arms went around my neck, and she giggled softly close to my cheek.

Her face was filled with trust, and she had no mischief in her eyes.

“Robert's gonna mind yoll now, hear?”

Little Anna giggled and seemed very pleased with the idea.

With her trusting look, happy nature, and loving personality, Anna brought back memories of my own little sister, Ella. I found myself playing the games Ella and I had played, and once again I had the love and trust of a small child.

I was embarrassed to be Anna's “maid” though, and I hated it when other slaves saw me minding her. I knew they were calling me a sissy and a Tom. It made me angry. Sometimes I took this anger out on Anna.

“Come here, Anna!”

“Whatchoo want, Robert?”

“I'm gonna whup yor hide.”

“Ahhhhhhhhh!”

I'd scare her practically out of her wits, but then I would never hurt her. If she cried, I'd feel a certain sense of fulfillment.

One Sunday afternoon when the Beal family was gone, I went down to the quarter to visit Miss Ceily. She was praying for her son, Little William, when I got there. Little William was about twelve years old and his mind didn't seem right. He would take to yelling at the air or kicking and throwing his body around as though something invisible were attacking him.

I sat with her outside the shanty with John Henry, and I got to talking about Anna. Miss Ceily heard our talk and she didn't like the part about my bullying her around.

“Child, you need Jesus.”

I looked at her, surprised.

“Did you ever ast Jesus to fill yor heart and forgive yor sins?”

“Not to my rememberin.”

“Well, that's what you need to do. You need salvation, that's what you need. You is doin an evil thing up there in that Big House scarin that chile, and the Lord want you to repent of it and ast Him to save you so's you kin be
His
boy instead of the devil's. A man's revenge don't mean nothin, chile. It's the
Lord
who do the revengin. He know how better'n any man know.”

“Revengin?”

“I want you to git on yor knees, boy, and I'm gonna learn yoll how to pray.”

I did as she said, and I heard myself talking to an invisible person, Jesus. John Henry quietly prayed beside me on his knees.

Something happened to me that day. I knew even then that something had taken place, something mysterious. Ceily told me to pray every day, and she began to teach me what she called the Lord's Prayer.

“Our Father which awt in heav'n . . .”

Cotton-picking time was the worst time of year for the slaves because they were driven so hard. After they returned to their homes at night, they had the cooking for the family to do and the tending of their own tiny gardens. They had only a few hours in which to sleep at night—oversleeping meant a whupping.

Then something terrible happened. Ceily's boy, Little William, turned on his mama. Ceily found out he took money from the overseers to give information about the folk in the quarter. Nobody realized Little William was sneaking around listening to conversations and trying to find out if anybody was planning on escaping or if anyone was saying bad things about the master.

“His mind is tore up,” Ceily lamented. “Jesus, hepp him, hepp him.”

Then, all of a sudden, Little William disappeared. Nobody knew what happened to him. Some said he escaped. He was missing for several days when finally he was found in the swamp under a cypress tree. His throat had been sliced from one ear to the other, and birds had already begun to eat on him.

When they lowered Little William into the grave, Miss Ceily said quietly under her breath, “Jesus done answered my prayer. He helped him. He's in glory now.”

Autumn was on its way. It was time for the white children to return to school. I had heard about a Negro school not far from us, and I once again began begging to go to school. It was hopeless. Master wouldn't hear of it. “Schoolin and learnin ain't for niggers!”

Having charge of Anna all day long made it almost impossible to get to the quarter. I had to stay near the Big House with her. The only time I could escape the prison of the Big House was on Sundays if the Beal family went visiting.

Thomas and John continued to enjoy their sport of jumping me. One cool Sunday afternoon they both jumped me right outside the kitchen door. I drew up with every bit of energy in me, took them both by their straight, slippery hair and with a swift surge of strength crashed their heads together. They fell to the ground, and I then pulled them up one at a time and smacked them in the belly and chest with my fists. When they got up I hit John so hard he went flying across the dirt. When Thomas saw that, he took off running. I knew I would get a terrible beating from Master Beal for what I did, but I knew I could lick both of those boys, and I didn't care.

Big Mac had seen the whole thing from the smokehouse, where he had been working. When he came into the kitchen later he was whistling, and then he hopped around doing a little dance.

Tell me, Jim, whatcha got in tha bag,

Oh Mary, Oh Mary,

Saw a nigger whup the massuh's boys,

Law diddie, Law diddie, Law dee day.

Saw that nigger done whup they hide,

Oh Mary, Oh Mary,

Massuh goin whup that nigger tonight.

Law diddie, Law diddie, Law dee day.

I joined him in his whimsical dance.

I whup em once, and I'll whup em again,

Oh Mary, Oh Mary . . .

I was delighted to see Big Mac's approval of what I had done. It was worth the whuppin I was going to receive.

It came sometime after supper. Master Beal dragged me out behind the barn and made me lie down on my belly. He whupped me just once with the buggy trace. I pushed my face down hard in the ground so I wouldn't cry out. As I followed him back to the house I still felt good about having taken his two boys. When we got halfway across the yard, Master turned to me, and with a funny kind of gesture he said, “I don't like to whup you, boy; mind yo'self so's I don't have to do it again. I'll turn Thrasher on yoll next time.”

I thought for just the tiniest second that he was trying to tell me he didn't like hitting me, not because it wore him out but because he liked me. The idea was crazy, but I kept it in my mind and I studied on it.

The winter of 1919 passed, as did the frenzied spring of 1920 with cultivating and planting. That spring Tennessee gave birth to a baby boy in her little shack by the house, and she named him Amos because she had heard that her father's name was Amos. Master moved Tennessee and the baby to a cabin away from the Big House. I think he was afraid Mistress knew the baby had a white daddy and would try to do something evil to them.

The summer of 1920 was hot and long, and I was given permission to take Anna to the creek to wade and play. “Do you gots a mama, Robert?” Anna asked me one day.

I looked at her large blue eyes. “No, chile, I don't got no mama. My mama daid.”

“Do you gots a daddy?” For a minute I saw white lights pass before my eyes, like lightning. The thought of my father aroused in me a sudden, unexpected fury.

“Hunh?”

“Do you gots a daddy?”

“. . . Ah reckon ah gots a daddy, Miz Anna.”

“Do he be a nice man like my daddy be?”

I looked at her little upturned face, the round cheeks just right for tweaking. “Ah reckon so, yes, ah reckon so. My daddy be jes right nice like yo daddy be.”

I sat at the edge of the creek, my feet stretched out into the water. Anna sat close to me digging her toes in the mud.

“Robert, you knows what?”

“Uh.”

“Robert, you be's my honey baby. I love you!” She threw her arms around me, laughing happily.

Anna would tell me what she learned in Sunday school each week.

“Jesus, He come down to be the Savior,” Anna explained.

“Whey'd He come from?”

“He come from the heaven. He come because He want the people to love God. It say so in the Bible.”

“Some day, Anna, you'll be able to read the Bible, and then you can teach me all about Jesus.”

Anna sang a little song that went

He washed my sins away,

He washed my sins away,

Now I'm white, white like snow,

for He washed my sins away.

These words haunted me. I remembered what Mistress Beal had said about the sins black people had committed that made our skins black and forever in debt to the white folk as their slaves. I wondered if there was a way for me to get my sins washed away and be made white as snow. But why would God make a sinner like me white and not Miss Ceily? She was a praying lady. Surely she would be the first one He would wash til she was white.