New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [58]
I could tell that boy loved to be on the river. He felt at home there. And I hoped that he would make his living on the river rather than with the slaving ships.
And it may be, as it happened, that I was able to affect his life in that regard. For one day, when I was washing in my room in the attic, and thinking myself alone, I heard little Dirk’s voice behind me.
“What are all those marks on your back, Quash?”
The whipping at the farm had left terrible scars all over my back, which I always concealed, and I would not have had the boy see them for all the world.
“Something that happened a long time ago,” I told him. “You just put it out of your mind, now.” And I made him go back downstairs.
But later that day, Miss Clara came by when I was tending some flowers in the garden, and she touched my arm and said, “Oh Quash, I’m so sorry.” A couple of days after that I was serving the family at table when little Dirk pipes up, “Father, is it ever right to whip a slave?” And his father looked awkward and muttered, “Well, it all depends.” But Miss Clara just said, very quiet, “No, it is never right.” And with her character, I knew she wouldn’t be changing her mind about that.
Indeed, I heard her say to her husband once that she wouldn’t be sorry if the whole business of slavery came to an end. But he answered that as things stood, he reckoned a good part of the wealth of the British Empire depended on the slaves in the sugar plantations, so it wouldn’t be ended any time soon.
I stayed with Miss Clara and her husband through that year. During that time there was an outbreak of yellow fever in the city, but fortunately it didn’t touch our house. And I remained with them most of the next.
Back in England, both Queen Mary and her husband, Dutch King William, had now died, and so the throne was given to Mary’s sister, Anne. And the government at this time thought so highly of the importance of America that they sent out a great gentleman that was cousin to the queen herself, and his name was Lord Cornbury. So Lord Cornbury came to live in New York.
None of this would have affected me if it hadn’t been for the Mistress. Nobody knew why—Jan said he reckoned she’d probably quarreled with somebody—but in October she sent a letter, saying she might be returning to New York, and Miss Clara called her brother round to her house to decide what they should do. I was in the parlor with them. “But you’d better not be here, Quash,” they both told me, “if she comes.”
“We are looking after Quash,” said Miss Clara.
“Of course we are,” said Jan. “And I think I have the answer. A place where his duties would be light, and he’d be well taken care of.” He nodded and gave me a smile. “For I have just been with the governor himself.”
“Lord Cornbury?” says Miss Clara.
“No less. It seems that His Lordship is looking for a personal manservant. I told him all about Quash, and he was most interested.” He turned to me. “If you work for him, Quash, you’ll be well treated. Not only that. Governors only stay a few years, then they return to England. If you please His Lordship, as I know you will, then at the end of his stay, he has agreed that he’ll give you your freedom.”
“But what if Lord Cornbury changes his mind and decides to sell Quash?” Miss Clara objected.
“I thought of that. I have Lord Cornbury’s word that if he were not satisfied, he would sell Quash back to us for the price he paid.”
“You’re sure Quash would be comfortable?” Miss Clara asked.
“Comfortable?” Mr. Master laughed. “He’d live better than we do.”
“Quash,” said Miss Clara, “if you’re not happy, you come straight back here to me.”
“Well,” said Jan, “Lord Cornbury hasn’t seen Quash yet. But if it goes well, Quash, I shall be grateful to you, for this will certainly put me in good standing with the governor.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said.
And so it was that in the space of only a year and a half, I passed from the ownership of that cruel planter into the household of the governor himself.
His Lordship belonged to the ancient family of Hyde,