Roots_ The Saga of an American Family - Alex Haley [223]
“The system may be starting to change without many realizing it,” said the massa’s cousin. “Look at these upstart rednecks strutting around as if they’ve entered the planter class just because they’ve bought one or two broken-down slaves to finish working them to death at building up their pitiful little crops of cotton and tobacco. They’re beyond contempt, but rednecks seemed to breed even faster than niggers. Just in sheer numbers they may begin to encroach on our land before long as well as on our labor.”
“Well, I don’t think we have much to worry about”—the massa chuckled, seemingly amused at his thought—“not as long as poor whites are competing with free blacks to buy the cast-off slaves.”
His cousin joined him in laughter. “Yes, isn’t it unbelievable? I hear that half the free niggers in the cities work day and night to save enough money to buy their kinfolk, and then set them free.”
“It’s why we have so many free blacks in the South,” said the massa.
“I think we’re permitting too many of them in Virginia,” said his cousin. “It’s not just how they’re sapping our labor supply by buying up their kin and creating more free blacks They’re also at the root of most uprisings. We don’t ever want to forget that blacksmith in Richmond.”
“True!” said Massa Waller. “But I still think that with enough good, strict laws to keep them in their places, and proper examples made of troublemakers, then most of them can serve useful purposes—in the cities. I’m told that right now, they just about dominate in most of the trades.”
“In the traveling I do, I’ve seen myself how widespread that is,” said his cousin. “They’re warehouse and waterfront workers, merchants, undertakers, gardeners. They’re the best cooks, also musicians, of course! And I’ve heard there’s not even one white barber in the whole city of Lynchburg. I’d have to grow a beard! I’d never let one of them near my throat with a razor!”
They both laughed. But then the massa grew serious. “I think the cities may be spawning for us a bigger social problem than free blacks—I mean these slick-tongued con-man slave traders. I hear most are former tavern owners, speculators, jackleg teachers, lawyers, preachers, and the like. Three or four have approached me in the county seat offering sight-unseen prices for my slaves, and one even had the nerve to leave his card here at the house! Far as I’m concerned, they’re totally vultures without scruples.”
They had arrived at Massa Waller’s house, and Kunta—seeming as if he hadn’t heard a word they’d said—jumped down to help them out. By the time they’d gone inside, washed up after the dusty ride, then settled in the drawing room and called Bell to bring them drinks, she and everyone else on the plantation knew from Kunta the vital fact that the massa had no plans to sell them. And not long after supper, Kunta repeated to his rapt slave-row audience the entire conversation, as best he could duplicate it.
There was silence for a moment. Then Sister Mandy spoke. “Massa an his cousin talkin’ ’bout free niggers savin’ up to buy kinfolks free. I wants to know how dem free niggers got deyselves free!”
“Well,” said the fiddler, “whole lotta city slaves’ massas lets ’em learn trades, den hires ’em out fo’ pay an’ gives ’em some de money, like massa do wid me. So wid ten, fi’teen years o’ savin’, if’n he real lucky, a hire-out nigger can maybe give his massa de money to buy hisself free.”
“Dat why you keeps so busy fiddlin’?”’ asked Cato.
“Ain’t doin’ it ’cause I loves to see white folks dance,” said the fiddler.
“You got ’nough to buy yo’self yet?”
“If I did, I wouldn’ be here fo’ you to ax dat question.” Everyone laughed.
“Is you close, anyways?” Cato persisted.
“Don’ give up, does you?” said the fiddler, exasperated. “I’se closer’n I was las’ week, but not close I’se gwine be nex’ week.”
“Awright, but when you gits it, what you gwine do?”
“Split de win’ brudder! Headin’ Nawth! Hear some dem northern free niggers