Roots_ The Saga of an American Family - Alex Haley [325]
Amid a snuffling chorus of “We sho’ will”... “Ain’t gon’ never fo’git, Gran’mammy,” she brushed the nearest faces with her hand, “SHUSH, now! Ever’thing gwine be fine! Heish up, done tol’ you! Y’all gwine flood me right out de do’!”
Four days somehow passed with those who were leaving getting packed, and finally Saturday morning came. Everyone had been up through most of the night. With scarcely a word uttered, they gathered, holding each other’s hands, watching the sun come up. Finally the wagons arrived. One by one those who were leaving turned silently to embrace those who were to remain behind.
“Where’s Uncle Pompey?” asked someone.
Miss Malizy said, “Po’ ol’ soul tol’ me las’ night he couldn’t stan’ to see y’all go—”
“I run kiss ’im, anyhow!” exclaimed L’il Kizzy, and went running toward the cabin.
In a little while, they heard her: “Oh, NO!”
Others already on the ground, or leaping from the wagon, went dashing. The old man sat there in his chair. And he was dead.
CHAPTER 105
On the new plantation, it wasn’t until the next Sunday, when Massa and Missis Murray drove off in their buggy to attend church services, that the whole family had a chance to sit down together for a talk.
“Well, I sho’ ain’t want to judge too quick,” said Matilda, looking around at all of her brood, “but all through de week me an’ Missis Murray done plenty talkin’ in de kitchen whilst I been cookin’. I got to say she an’ dis new massa soun’s like good Christian peoples. I feels like we’s gwine be whole lot better off here,’cept yo’ pappy still ain’t back, an’ Gran’mammy an’ dem still at Massa Lea’s.” Again studying her children’s faces, she asked, “Well, from what y’all’s seed an’ heared, how y’all feel?”
Virgil spoke. “Well, dis Massa Murray don’t seem like he know much ’bout farmin’, or bein’ no massa, neither.”
Matilda interrupted. “Dat’s ’cause dey was town folks runnin’ a sto’ in Burlington, ’til his uncle died an’ in ’is will lef’em dis place.”
Virgil said, “Ever’ time he done talked to me, he’s said he lookin’ fo’ a white oberseer to hire to work us. I done kept tellin’ ’im ain’t no need to spend dat money, dat worse’n a oberseer he needed leas’ five, six mo’ fiel’ han’s. Tol’ ’im jes’ give us chance, we raise ’im good tobacco crops by ourself—”
Ashford broke in, “I ain’t stayin’ long nowhere wid no cracker oberseer trackin’ every move!”
After a pointed look at Ashford, Virgil went on. “Massa Murray say he watch awhile an’ see how we do.” He paused. “I jes’ ’bout begged ’im to buy my Lilly Sue an’ young’un from Massa Curry back yonder an’ bring ’em here. Tol’ ’im Lilly Sue work hard as anybody he ever gon’ git. He say he think ’bout it, but to buy us, dey already done had to take out a bank mor’gage on de big house, an’ he see how much ’baccy he sell dis year.” Virgil paused. “So we all got to pitch in! I can tell odder white folks been givin’ ’im plenty advisin’ niggers won’t half work by deyselves. Let ’im see any hangin’ back an’ playin’ roun’, we sho’ liable win’ up wid some oberseer.” Glancing again at the sullen Ashford, Virgil added, “Fac’, I ’speck it be good when Massa Murray ride out where we’s workin’ I’ll holler at y’all some, but y’all know why.”
“Sho’!” burst out Ashford, “you an’ somebody else I knows always tries to be massa’s special nigger!”
Tom tensed, but managed to seem as if he totally ignored Ashford’s remark while Virgil half rose, lancing forward a work-calloused forefinger, “Boy, lemme tell you, sump’n wrong anybody don’ git ’long wid nobody! Gwine git you in big trouble one dese days! Jes’ speakin’ fo’ myself, if’n it be’s wid me, somebody gwine carry off one us!”
“Heish! Bofe y’all heish up dat mess!” Matilda glared at them both, then particularly at Ashford, before turning an entreating look onto Tom, clearly