Song of Slaves in the Desert - Alan Cheuse [124]
“I beg your pardon, Cuz. You and my wife must speak more about this.”
And he leaned toward me and I smelled the liquor on his breath and things sharpened a little in my understanding.
“And so have you decided,” he said, “about staying or leaving?”
I watched as Liza made her way to the big house, picturing her shifting hips beneath the bright clothes she wore.
“I am going to stay a while,” I said. “At least through the rice harvest,” surprising myself again with my certainty. I watched my cousin’s eyes following her.
“You have given this some serious thought, and it makes me happy,” he said. But the look on his face did not affect happiness, not at all.
All this I attributed to his drinking.
My uncle, however, behaved rather jovially at the lunch table and I did not believe it had anything to do with drink. That so many things were about to erupt I had no inkling.
“I’m pleased to hear that you will be staying on a while longer, nephew,” he said.
“It pleases me, too, Nathaniel,” my aunt said.
Rebecca echoed her sentiment.
“I hope this means you will help me with our teaching.”
“Certainly,” I said. “I believe that is important.”
“Important for…” Jonathan stopped, glanced around the room. Precious Sally, standing at her usual post in the doorway, made a sound in her throat, but said nothing, of course.
“Important for the slaves,” I said. “To be free and illiterate, that is not true freedom.”
“Yes, yes,” my cousin said. “To be free like me, able to read, that is true freedom.”
“It is, Jonathan,” Rebecca said.
“Yes, I am glad to be free to read this,” he said, pulling a letter from his coat pocket and holding it up to the light.
“Do not—” my uncle said.
“I want him to hear it,” Jonathan cut him off. “He is part of the family…our wonderfully large family…”
“Very well then,” my uncle said, and slumped back in his chair.
“This note arrived early this morning.”
“Yes,” I said, ignoring what I took to be his prescience about my purposes there. And Liza’s. Did he suspect us? Of course, he suspected us. Or perhaps he had even ordered her to…? Fortunately for my mental state at the moment, he cut off my thoughts as he waved the letter in front of us.
And then began to read.
“‘Christians of Charleston! Awake! While you have been sleeping certain Forces have gathered in the countryside, teaching slaves to study murder. A certain Jew has been showing them a Plan! Under the oaks a travesty is brewing! Tend to your possessions, tend to your Souls! The True Way is to follow Jesus! Step off the Path and you are Lost! Watch for my next Bulletin!’ Signed ‘Your Brother in Christ.’”
Rebecca burst into tears.
“They want to scare me. This is not fair. I discovered years ago that our good doctor friend from time to time has also been teaching Africans to read. Then why should I stop? I will not stop. I will go on with my instruction.”
“Of course, you will,” Jonathan said. “But we do have to be aware there are certain parties opposed to it.”
“It is none of their business,” Rebecca said.
“They are making it their business,” Jonathan said.
“I will not stop. That is the end of it.”
“Yet it might be the end of us,” my cousin said.
“Nonsense,” I said, thinking back to the inquisitive shipping clerk. “This is the doing of some befuddled individual and surely not the majority view in the city.”
“I believe that is so,” my uncle said. “They are good to us here.”
“They are not good. They are merely tolerant,” my aunt said. “I was afraid this might happen.”
“It is nothing of the kind,” my uncle said.
Rebecca wept again.
“You never liked me,” she said to my aunt.
“This is not true,” my uncle said. “She does like you. She loves you, child.”
“When you go, she will be mean to me,” Rebecca said.
My aunt stood up and went to the doorway.
“When he goes, I am moving to town.”
“And how will you live, Mother?” Jonathan said.
“I will establish myself as a sole trader. I will open a business.”
“What business?” my uncle said. “What business do you know?”
“I will sell lace, perhaps. I will sell dresses.”
“What do you know