Roots_ The Saga of an American Family - Alex Haley [271]
Some afternoons, after their training session was done and the cull birds they had used had been put back in their pens, Uncle Mingo would sit and tell George about the glory and the money that could be earned in hackfights. “Jes’ like de po’ peckerwoods hollers for massa to win, I’se seed niggers dat gits hollered for at de big hackfights. An’ it’s much as ten, twelve, even mo’ dollars can be winned in one fight, boy!”
“Ain’t never had a dollar, Uncle Mingo! Don’t hardly know what a dollar look like!”
“I aint never had many neither. Fact, ain’t got no use for none no mo’. But massa say he gwine stake you some bettin’ money, an’ if you wins any, he jes’ might let you have some of it—”
“You reckon he do dat?”
“I specks, ’cause I know he got to be feelin’ pretty good ’bout dat wing-strengthenin’ idea of your’n what done put good money in his pocket. Thing is if he do, is you gwine have sense enough to save up what you git?”
“Sho’ do dat! I sho’ would!”
“I’se even heared o’ niggers winnin’ an’ savin’ enough from hackfightin’ to buy deyselves free from dey massas.”
“Buy me an’ my mammy both!”
Immediately Uncle Mingo rose from the stump he had been sitting on; the lancing of jealousy that he had just experienced had not only come entirely unexpectedly, but it was also so unsettling deep within him that he found it hard to make any reply. Then he heard himself snapping, “Well—reckon ain’t nothin’ impossible!” Wanting suddenly to get away from a feeling that his own sense of sharing a truly close affection wasn’t being equally reciprocated, he walked quickly off toward his cabin, leaving George staring after him, puzzled.
At a big cockfight main with Massa Lea early during the 1824 season, Uncle Mingo heard from an old trainer he had known for years that a hackfight was due to be held that coming Saturday afternoon behind the large barn of a local plantation. “Reckon he’bout ready as he ever gwine be, Massa,” Mingo told the massa later. On Saturday morning, as he had promised, Massa Lea came down and counted out twenty dollars in small bills and coins to Uncle Mingo. “Now, you know my policy,” he said to both of them. “Don’t get in there fightin’ a bird if you’re afraid to bet on him! If you bet nothin’ you’ll never win nothin’! I’m willin’ to lose whatever you lose, but I’m puttin’ up the money and you’re fightin’ my chickens, so I want half of any winnin’s, you understand that? And if I even think there’s any messin’ around with my money, I’ll take it out of both your black hides!” But they could clearly see that he was only putting on a gruff act when he was really in a good humor as they chorused, “Yassuh, Massa!”
Rounding the corner of the large gray-painted barn, trying not to show how excited he was, George saw about twenty black hackfighters moving around, laughing and talking on one side of a wide, shallow cockpit. Recognizing about half of them from the big fights they’d attended with their massas, as he had, he waved and smiled his greetings, exchanging nods with others whose colorful dress and cockily independent air made him guess that they must be free blacks. Flicking glances at about an equal number of poor whites just across the cockpit, he was surprised to find that he knew some of them, too, and pridefully, he overheard one telling another, “Them two’s Tom Lea’s niggers.” Both the black and white hackfighters soon began untying their hay-filled crocus bags, withdrawing their crowing, clucking birds and starting to limber them up as Uncle Mingo stepped around the cockpit and said something to the stout, ruddy-faced referee, who nodded with a glance across at George.
The boy was diligently massaging his stag when Mingo returned and began working on the other bird they’d brought along. George felt vaguely uneasy at being physically closer than ever before to poor whites, who generally meant nothing but trouble for blacks, but he reminded himself that Uncle Mingo had told him on their way over here that hackfighting was the only thing he knew of that poor whites and blacks did together. The rule was