“Jory, are you living by yourself on this boat?”
I looked up at him and didn’t know what to say. I started to shake my head when he said, “You ain’t gotta answer right now, you hear? You just remember where you can find me and Max if’n ever you need anything, okay?”
I nodded. “Jacob, thank you. Being a captain is incredible, nothing like it ever. Neatest thing I ever did in my entire life.”
He chuckled. “I don’t need no thanks. We’s partners, ain’t we?”
“We shore is,” I said with a straight face, which I was quite proud of.
As he tossed me the bowline, I sat down and grabbed the oars. Max gave three quick blasts of the horn and the diesels roared, spewing out exhaust from the stack as she gained speed. I knew exactly what Max was feeling, for I had just pushed those same throttles forward myself. As I watched the tug pull away, Jacob waved and shouted, “Take care, partner.”
I cupped my hands to my mouth, “Thank you, Jacob!” His hand went out in front of him in a thumbs-up.
The tug moved swiftly upstream, leaving a large wake and dark smoke fanning out at the stern, while Jacob’s Angel floated downstream with the current. The middle of the Mississippi wasn’t a safe place for a rowboat, so pulling hard on the oars, Jacob’s Angel moved toward shore. The trip back didn’t take much time at all rowing with the swift current. A number of barges moved up and downriver during my downstream trip. When I waved at each one, the captain would always sound the horn in reply.
With the canvas secured over the boat, I built a small fire on shore and roasted hotdogs. After eating, I climbed in the sleeping bag and relived the journey in the tug. As I pushed the chrome throttles forward, sleep overpowered the diesels.
17
Defense
SUMMER PASSED QUICKLY, and Jacob and Max became my friends. I saw them as often as I could, which was nearly every day unless the weather was bad. They would show me new things about diesel engines and tug repair. I would take a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and cookies with me, for I really liked sitting with them on the deck and having lunch, listening to the portable radio. It would make me feel like we were a team of three. They talked about all kinds of neat stuff. I learned that Jacob had run away from home when he was fourteen to get as far from his drunken father as he could. Neither Jacob nor Max had finished high school. Jacob made it to eighth grade, and Max never finished fourth.
We were eating lunch one day while Jacob was telling me about how, when he ran away, he was beaten up really bad once because he didn’t know how to fight. The boy who beat him up was big, and he had taken the only two dollars he had.
“What did you do?” I asked.
“Why, I swore to myself twern’t any other kid going to beat me up, not ever again, even though I was smaller.”
“How’d you learn how to fight?”
“Talked with a flatfoot, the cop who roamed around town watching things. He saw the two bullies run out of the alley, went in to see why they were running, and found me on the ground in a bloody mess. I didn’t want nothing to do with no cop. I was so mad I could have shot them two boys. He told me about when he was nearly killed by bullies when he was a kid, and he understood how I felt. He said that’s why he became a cop, so he could learn how to protect himself. He asked me if I wanted to make sure I’d never get beat up again. I looked at him and said, ‘Damn straight, I do.’”
Jacob took another bite of his sandwich. Without looking at me, he said. “Since you be on your own and got no one looking after you, hows about I show you a few things about taking care of yourself? I’m worried about you, boy. You ain’t very big, but you don’t need to be if you knows how to protect yourself. I don’t want you beaten up none.”
Max said, “Jacob here done showed me a thing or two. Good thing, or I’d of gotten the crap kicked out of me more than once. You best lets him show you.”
“Jacob,” I said, suddenly eager, “I’d be mighty pleased if you’d show me what I need to know.”
He smiled. “Okay, stand up.” I did. He stood in front of me, trying to make himself look bigger. “Make believe I’m a big, dumbass kid coming at you and you know I’m gonna bust your ass, okay?” He came slowly toward me. “What ya gonna do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Look here—put one arm in front of you, like this, opposite your chest, with that elbow straight out. Now, make a fist with your other hand and stand like this.” I did. “First off, this be telling the jerk you ready for him and he best be prepared to gets his ass whipped. Maybe he’s smart and reconsiders.”
He showed me how to block a punch coming at me, and how to take advantage of a block by slamming my fist into my opponent’s stomach. He said if I hit someone hard in the stomach, it would knock the breath out of him and leave him wide open. He showed me how to decide where to hit my opponent, how to open him up for a strike to the face, and how to block a punch and kick him in the balls. He told me a good kick to the crotch would put a guy’s lights out fast.
He showed how to tell when a kick was coming and how to turn my butt toward the guy so to avoid getting my balls bashed. I laughed in embarrassment when he said, “Your ass can take a hefty hard kick—your balls, well, that be another story. Just don’t get kicked there, believe me. Protect them there babies at all cost.”
For the next couple of weeks, at every lunch, Jacob was training me. He showed me how to pull a controlled punch in case you really didn’t need to hurt someone. We kept practicing the blocks, punches, kicks, and ridiculous balls-protecting butt twists. As I learned more, he got more aggressive so I’d have to figure a thing or two out by myself. Two or three times, his kick reached my crotch. Pulling a kick, he’d say, “You’re down, boy. I gotcha in the balls again. Where the hell was your ass?” I couldn’t stop laughing.
One afternoon, he told me, “Jory, the most important thing to do in a fight is to never lose perspective. Never stop thinking about what your opponent is gonna do, and what you’s gonna do. Never stop figurin’. If you do, it’s over and they win. Don’t ever lose control, even when you get punched. Just get up and take back the control, you hear me?”
I heard him.
18
Reading Time
LUCILLA AND MAYHEW WERE PLAYING CHECKERS AT THE TABLE in the living room, Bess was crocheting an afghan, and Moses was reading, as usual. I went to the bookshelf and saw books on science, lots of novels, philosophy, poetry, nature, astronomy, and a bunch of schoolbooks. Surely, Moses had read every one of them, and he probably remembered everything.
“Help yourself,” Moses said. “Books are to be read, and you have lots of choices there.”
I glanced at him. His eyes were on his book, and he had a small smile on his face, reading and talking at the same time. There were so many books on those shelves; I couldn’t imagine how he was able to purchase them all. “Where’d you get all these?” I asked.
Mayhew jumped in. “You think that’s a lot? You should see all the books in the boxes underneath the floor. There’s five time that many.”
I glanced at Moses. “What? How’d you get them all?”
“Same way I got this boat. A fine man by the name of Thornton Mills.”
“He gave them to you?”
“Upriver about fifty miles was the Mills plantation. Bess helped Mrs. Mills, Rebecca, in the house, and I worked as a carpenter for Thornton, Mr. Mills. We were young, only just married. Oh! the library they had. It covered one whole wall in his study. One day, while building more shelves for Mr. Mills, I spied a book on astronomy, that big red one there. I was looking through it when Mr. Mills came in. ‘What are you reading?’ he asked. I apologized for taking down the book, and told him I really liked the stars. When he asked me if I could read, I was embarrassed to tell him the truth. He said if I was to be a man of character, two things were necessary. I must know how to read, and I must always speak properly. Well, Miss Rebecca took time of the evenings to teach Bess and me how
to read, and both Miss Rebecca and Mr. Mills helped us use proper English. He said something I never forgot, ‘Each time you speak, you declare your intelligence. Tell the world you are of character and intellect, not dimwitted.’”
Mayhew shook his head. “Yeah, that’s why Grandpa and Grandma correct us all the time.”
Moses continued. “Mr. Mills had an old houseboat that had partially burned. One day, I asked him what he had in store for it, and he said he wanted to take it out in the channel and sink it because it was no good. I told him I’d be pleased to repair it for him, and he told me if I wanted to fix it up on my own time, I could have it.”
Bess looked up. “And you should have seen your grandpa. I didn’t see him for months after that. Every spare second he wasn’t working on the plantation, he was building on that boat. He tore the whole thing apart and started anew.”
Moses laughed. “Yes, and when Mr. Mills saw what I had done, he told me it was better than when he had bought it new. He said it now belonged to me. We moved from the tiny quarters on the plantation into this very boat. That was a long time ago.”
Bess said, “And when Mr. Mills died, and Rebecca had to sell the plantation, she told us she’d never had a sister or brother, but if she did, she’d want them to be like us. She told Moses, ‘I think you may have read just about every book in Thornton’s library, but in case you haven’t, the books belong to you now.’”
Bess chuckled. “Moses said he couldn’t accept the gift, and Miss Rebecca said, ‘Well, if they won’t sink your boat, they belong to you and that’s that. So please, you do my husband the honor to see to his last wish that you take ownership of his books.’”
Moses glanced at the library. “His honor was my honor.”
I could not imagine owning so many books. Just the sight of the library was overpowering. I reached out and removed the large, red book. “Is this the astronomy book?”
“Yup, it’s still my favorite.”
On the big cover in gold leaf was a drawing of Scorpio, and ASTRONOMY printed in grand lettering. In large print, the cover page read Larousse Encyclopedia of Astronomy, by Lucien Rudaux and G. De Vancouleurs, With an Introduction by F. L. Whipple, Professor of Astronomy, Harvard University. Sitting on the floor between the bookshelf and Moses, I began reading.
I said to Moses, “My dad got me a telescope. He was teaching me a lot about astronomy before he…died.”
Saying the word dug deep into my sadness. I stared at the open book, thinking about my father. I felt a gentle hand upon my shoulder; I looked up at Moses.
His expression was grave, yet gentle. His air of dignified benevolence was radiant. He had no false shell, no pretense. My father’s love was out of reach, buried in the earth, while inches in front of me was a love as powerful.
“I’m not playing with you no more. You always win,” Mayhew said to Lucilla.
Moses looked toward Mayhew. “Say that again, Mayhew.”
Mayhew’s shoulders slumped in exasperation before he said, “I’m not playing with you anymore.”
Moses nodded as his eyes moved back to the book.
“But it’s not fair, Grandpa. I never win playing Lucilla.”
Moses smiled. “The best way to become a good checker player is to play with someone better. You learn quickly if you pay attention to how your opponent plays. A challenge is always better than something easy.”
“No it isn’t,” Mayhew replied.
It was Saturday. Every other Saturday was shopping day, unless the weather was bad. After a sip of coffee, Moses said, “Beautiful day. Bess, you have your shopping list?”
“Yes, darling.”
It seemed weird getting in a boat to go shopping. We each found a seat; Bess with her folding metal basket on wheels. We went upriver toward Vicksburg and tied off to a pier. We walked into town where many people milled about, all of them white. I figured we were going to shop at a large grocery store we were heading for, but we walked past it and continued down the street. I looked up at Moses.
He shook his head. “No, we can’t shop there. We have to go to the store for colored folk, and it doesn’t have all the things the white folks’ store has, especially the meat. If there’s something you need we can’t get in our store, I’ll give you some money and you can get it in the big store.”
“I’m really sorry,” I said, lowering my head, ashamed to be white.
Bess put her arm around me. “You’re not to blame, son. Don’t you go and feel bad.”
“Is there anything you want I can get for you?” I asked.
“No, we’ll do just fine,” Bess said.
“Am I allowed to go into your store?”
Moses snickered. “Of course you are.”
When we entered the store, the woman at the only cash register said, “Howdy, Bess. Howdy, Moses!”
“Howdy, Miss Sarah,” they returned.
“Who might that handsome lad be you have with you?”
“He’s Jory,” Mayhew said. “He’s my friend.”
“Well, howdy to you, Jory.”
“Howdy, ma’am,” I replied.
“Now just call me Sarah, you hear?”
“Yes, Miss Sarah,” I replied.
Bess left her wheeled basket at the front of the store, and Mayhew found a shopping cart. He wanted to buy some cereal and candy, but Moses told him they didn’t have enough money for those special things this trip; maybe another time.
Lucilla came to the cart disappointed. “Grandma, all the powdered milk is gone. Can we get real milk?”
“Well, it’s not the first time. No, darling, fresh milk it too expensive, we’ll just have to do without.”
Everything fit into the wheeled basket and we headed back to the boat, past the big grocery store for whites only. Suddenly I blurted, “I can get the powdered milk. I’ll meet you at the boat.” I hurried into the store as they continued down the street.
I found the powdered milk and got the biggest box they had. Mayhew told me how much better the powdered milk was when Bess would mix it with real milk, so I added a gallon to the cart. Walking past the butcher counter, I saw big hams hung from a rack. I put one in the cart, and then found the cornflakes Mayhew wanted. Bess and Moses loved coffee, and to save on coffee beans, she would add fresh grounds to old. A two-pound bag was added to the cart.
On the way to the register, I passed the candy aisle and got Lucilla jellybeans she had wanted to get but couldn’t, and I got a Hershey’s chocolate bar for each of us. Looking around to make sure no one saw me, I lifted up my sweatshirt and took out what I thought was enough money to pay for the items.
When I got to the boat, I handed down the two bags I could barely carry. “What did you get?” Bess said.
“Just got a couple of things for us, that’s all.”
“How much was it?” Moses asked, his hand on his wallet.
“It wasn’t very much.”
“No, I need to pay you.”
“I’ve been eating your food. It’s only fair I help.”
“My, my,” Moses said. “We’ll talk about this later. Let’s go get the kero and gas.”
Lucilla and Bess stayed at the boat while the three of us headed down the dock to get the kerosene. I hadn’t noticed while walking to the grocery store, but people were looking at us in a suspicious way, or maybe an inquisitive and questioning way. I would see someone nudge their companion and look at us, sharing their dismay over a young white boy being with two colored people. Moses surely noticed, but he ignored it.
We rounded a corner and I could see a filling station just up the road. Ahead of us were three men standing next to a telephone pole, gawking at us. Mayhew moved closer to Moses. When we were nearly even with them, one man stepped forward, blocking the way. Moses angled his approach closer to the wall to avoid them.
“Hey, darky, what are you doing with a white boy in tow? Is he your master?”
Moses said nothing and just kept walking, Mayhew squashed against
him.
“I asked you a question, nigger. Now you answer me, or I’ll call the cops and get you arrested for kidnapping a white boy.”
“Yes,” Moses said, not looking directly at the man, “this is my master’s boy. I’m watching out for him today.”
“That’s better. You make sure you take good care of him now.”
“Yes, sir, I shall.”
I looked at the men. That was a mistake, for one of them looked at me, saying, “Them niggers taking good care of you, boy? If not, you just tell me, and I’ll fix it.”
They scared me, but I was more angry than frightened. “This is my grandpa,” I said. “I’m his grandson, not his master.”
“Grandpa!” They laughed. The one with rotten teeth said, “Boy, look at your skin. You white as me. You ain’t no colored.” They both laughed again.
Just loud enough for me to hear, Moses said, “Don’t say anything else, son. Not one word.”
“Hey, old man,” one of them shouted, spitting tobacco juice toward Moses, which made a big streak on the sidewalk. “You best not be brainwashing no white boy, you hear?”
Moses kept walking. “Don’t look back,” he said quietly.
“You hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” he replied, nodding, without glancing back.
“You take care of your master’s boy, now.”
“Yes, sir, I do,” Moses repeated, not looking back.
I started to turn around. “Only words, Jory, and words don’t hurt lessen you make them hurt. Don’t let words bring you anger, for anger only causes pain and more anger. Remember what I said about the moment. This is a moment you need to control. They are testing you.”
“They’re jerks. Horrible jerks. They make me mad.”
“Yes, but they don’t make you mad—only you can. Do not let their words do that or you make them winners. Feel sorry for them and be glad you are not like them. Just let it go, it’s over.” He was right, but I wasn’t any good at thinking the way I should.
My Water Path Page 9
