'But you have the drivers,' Tony said. 'I have been talking to that chap Merriman.'
'Merriman,' Dick exclaimed. 'By God. Joshua, are you there?'
'Well, here I am, Mr Hilton.' Merriman wore his hat and also carried a crop. ‘I’s best be getting back to town, or Mr Reynolds going have the Custos out after me.' He grinned at Dick. 'You's the master now, Mr Hilton. You's just got to show them boys, and they going obey you all right.' His right hand started to move, and then hastily dropped back to his side.
But Dick was gazing at him in delight, an idea forming in his mind. 'Joshua. You'll stay.' 'Eh? Mr Reynolds. . .'
'I'll send to Mr Reynolds. Make him an offer. Stay and be my overseer.' 'Mr, Mr Hilton?'
'A black man?' Harriet demanded. 'That is not possible.' 'Why not?'
'Well. . . I'm sure it's not legal.'
'Mistress Laidlaw told me I am the law, on Hilltop. You know planting, Joshua. You told me so.'
'Well, that is a fact, Mr Hilton.'
'You'll head the drivers,' Dick decided.
'I wonder if you are not being a little premature,' Tony said. 'Will the niggers follow one of their own people?'
'Or will they follow him too well?' Harriet suggested.
'They will follow us,' Dick said. 'Joshua will act for us. Now, Joshua, go down the hill and tell them I will address them in half an hour.'
'Yes, sir, Mr Hilton.' Joshua ran for his mule.
'Address them?' Tony inquired.
'You do not speak with those creatures, Mr Hilton,' Harriet said. 'They understand the whip, and nothing less.'
'Couldn't that be because they have never known anything different?' Dick asked. 'And in any event, surely they are entitled at least to see their new owner.'
'There's a point,' Tony agreed. 'Whips. We'll need whips. You have whips, Boscawen?'
'There's Mr Robert's big whip, sir.'
'Fetch it.'
'I'm not going to whip anyone,' Dick said. 'I'm going to speak with them.'
'Can't be too careful, old boy,' Tony said. 'Besides, the whip is the symbol of authority in these parts, eh? I've read all about it.'
'Your brother is right,' Harriet said. 'No white man should go amidst the blacks without a whip.'
'Oh, very well,' Dick said. 'You can carry the whip, Tony. Shall we go?'
He led them down the stairs, climbed into the saddle; the waiting grooms held the stirrup and made a back for Harriet, and she settled herself side saddle, right knee high, pulling gloves over her fingers. It occurred to Dick that she was the loveliest sight he had ever seen. But what an amazing thought. He had only left Ellen and Mama five weeks before. And yet, it was a thought quite in keeping with his surroundings, the heat and the dust and the glaring sun, and his position, sitting on a horse in front of a magnificent house, also his, having dismissed with a wave of his hand some thirty employees, and now about to face up to ... he had no idea how many more. Surely he was dreaming all of this. Or he had dreamed all of his previous existence. But there was the truth of the matter. The old cliche that the West Indies were a different world was absolutely true.
'Well?' Tony was also mounted, the huge bull whip resting in front of him on his horse's neck.
Dick kicked his mount, moved slowly down the hill. First the town had to be passed, and the bookkeepers stopped in their work to watch him. He expected more than just looks, but they offered no comments. Again, this was not England, where one man was as good as the next, at least in physical matters. As Clarissa Laidlaw had truly said, he was the master, the law itself, within the valley of Hilltop, and no one would risk his anger. He felt almost sick with excitement.
The town was behind him, and he faced the village, and the largest crowd he had ever seen, or so it seemed. He drew rein, and watched Joshua spurring up the rise towards him.
'They's waiting, Mr Hilton.'
'Good man. How many are there?'
Joshua rolled his eyes. 'A good number, sir. A good number.' 'There are one thousand and fifty-three slaves on Hilltop, at the last count,' Harriet said. 'Good Lord. How do you know?'
'Your uncle kept a very careful tally,' she said. 'Now, there were three women due to deliver, last week. But I do not know if they have, and if the piccaninnies were born alive.'
Dick frowned at her; she might have been speaking of a herd of cattle.
She returned a smile. 'That is something you have to deal with as well. But I will help you. I love watching the births.'
'Eh? Oh. Good Lord.' Watch a birth? He walked his horse down the hill, Joshua failing in at his rear, and checked again. 'What on earth are they guilty of?'
He pointed at the four triangles, each filled with a naked black man, suspended by the wrists, feet dragging in the dust.
'Well, I ain't knowing that, Mr Hilton,' Joshua confessed. 'You got for ask Absolom.'
The drivers waited in a group in front of the slaves, dominated by the bulk of Absolom. Dick turned his horse towards them.
'Why are those fellows suspended?'
'They're waiting for the lash, Mr Hilton, sir,' Absolom said. 'I does beat them, but a bookkeeper got for be present.' 'And their crime?'
'Well, sir, they does be insolent and lazy fellows. Mr Laidlaw done say so.'
'Ah. Well, cut them down.' 'Sir?'
'Cut them down. This is my first day on Hilltop, and there'll be no whipping today. Haste, man.'
'They should be whipped,' Harriet said. 'A flogging does them good.'
'Let's call it an amnesty,' he said. 'My aim is to win the affection, the hearts, if you like, of these people.'
'My God,' Tony said, apparently to himself.
Harriet was frowning. 'They have no hearts, no affection,' she declared. 'They are ruled by fear. I quote your uncle, Mr Hilton. The sentiments are not me own.'
'We shall see.' Dick watched the four naked men, having been released from the triangles, coming towards him. 'Cover them up,' he bawled, flushing with embarrassment, wondering if being tied up to await a whipping would have the same effect on him.
Absolom hastily marched the men round the back of the crowd, and Dick moved closer. He regarded, by Harriet's figures, a thousand and more people, men and women and children, gathered in a huge dark group, black faces remarkably contrasting with the white cotton drawers and chemises which were all any of them wore; while the children were naked. But as he approached he realized that they were not all of the same colour, while their faces were noticeably varied, from the broad, friendly features of the darker Congolese Negroes to the aquiline reservedness of the Mandingoes.
'Will they all understand English?' he asked Joshua.
'I think so, Mr Hilton. They all must be living in Jamaica these two years at the least.'
He drew a long breath. The crowd seemed absolutely still, save for the restless movements of the children. But they gazed at him, expectantly. And with what in their hearts, he wondered. Hatred? Respect? Fear? Or merely apathy?
‘I am Richard Hilton,' he shouted. 'I shall live here from now on. I shall take the place of my uncle, Robert Hilton. But I am not Robert Hilton. You will discover who I am, as the days go by. I am here to grow sugar, to make this plantation prosperous. You will help me to do that. You will work hard, and please me, and none of you will be punished. And I will work beside you, as hard as any of you. So will my brother here, and in all things you will regard him as me. With mine, his word is law on Hilltop. Should you not work hard, be sure that you will be punished. But why be punished? See, I have taken down your four comrades who were to be whipped, because I will have no man suffer for a crime committed before I came to Hilltop. And I have dismissed my bookkeepers, because they would rule by the whip. Now then, this afternoon there will be no more work. Tomorrow morning you will go aback as usual, and recommence your labour. You will be commanded by Absolom here, and his drivers, and the inspection will be carried out by this gentleman, Joshua Merriman, who you will regard as my deputy in all things. Very goo
d. You are dismissed to your houses.' He turned to Joshua. 'Go amongst them, and make sure they understand me.'
'Oh, I going do that, Mr Hilton. They going follow you, sir. They going follow you.'
He rode down the hill towards the silent crowd.
'What do you think?'
'A very good speech,' Harriet said. 'I doubt they'll know what to make of it. Let's get back to the house. The stench of their bodies afflicts me nostrils.'
'You said something about an inspection.'
'Tomorrow will do,' she said. 'Christ, how me throat is dry.'
'Me too,' Tony said. 'When I saw all those black faces, why, I doubted not our last moment had come.'
'Rubbish,' Dick declared. 'They are but people, who require to be treated as people, and we shall have no trouble.' He wheeled his horse, saw Laidlaw seated on his mount only a few feet away; the first of the wagons had already begun its journey down the drive.
'You speak well, Mr Hilton,' the manager said. 'You should be a politician, like your father. But these people need the whip, not words.'
'They'll work, Mr Laidlaw. They'll work.'
'Aye,' Laidlaw said. 'We'll see how they work, when it comes to grinding.'
'A toast.' Tony Hilton stood, and raised his glass. 'To the Hiltons of Hilltop. Long may they prosper.'
He slurred, very slightly, and swayed. At the opposite side of the table Harriet Gale gave a giggle of tipsy laughter. They had both drunk far too much.
But then, Dick wondered, had he not also drunk far too much? Without achieving the blessings of inebriation. He kept thinking how absurd they looked, the three of them, he and Tony in their black jackets and white socks. Harriet in a splendid evening gown in dark blue taffeta which seemed to hang from her breasts as if attached there, leaving shoulders and arms exposed; they were milky-white shoulders and arms, with a dusting of freckles, and plumper than he had first observed.
Now she tossed her head, scattering that long, straight dark mane, so that some fell behind and odd strands descended most entrancingly in front, trickling across the white swell of flesh, and raised her own glass, to squint through it at the light. 'Empty, by God. Vernon, you black devil, fill it up. Fill it up.'
Dick sighed, and watched the footman hastily reaching for the decanter. It apparently had been his uncle's humour to name all of his house servants after British admirals. But he also felt like another drink. It was a form of hysterical release, he decided. The bookkeepers, and their wives, and their children, and their dogs, had gone. The town stood derelict. No doubt it would soon fill again, as Reynolds advertised, as they obtained the right people. But what a remarkable day it had been. No, indeed, what a remarkable two days; he had not slept a wink last night. Now he could hardly keep his eyes open, and his head swung, at once with exhaustion and alcohol, and his brain seemed filled with nothing but the presence of Harriet Gale. He thought he could sit here the entire night, just staring at the freckled flesh, just dreaming.
The decanter crashed past his ear, struck the parquet and shattered into a hundred pieces of crystal.
'Ow me God,' cried Vernon, staring at the liquid spreading across the floor.
'Oh, Christ,' Harriet screamed, sitting up.
'God damn you for a bastard,' Tony bawled.
Dick rubbed his ears, watched Boscawen pounding in from the pantry.
'What is this?' cried the butler.
'It slip, man, it slip.' Vernon was on his knees, his napkin turning red as he swabbed at the wine.
'Ah, well, fetch another,' Tony commanded.
'Crystal,' Dick said. 'My God. What did that thing cost? Mistress Gale?'
'Ah, what does it matter. 'Tis a waste of good wine,' she said. 'There's the problem. They are crazy swine, these people, careless as devils from hell. ' 'Tis break this and smash that, all the while.'
'Crystal,' he muttered. 'There's pounds and pounds. My God.' His money. Supposing he had any. He hadn't seen a single entry in a book, so far, to prove he wasn't bankrupt. If they threw crystal around like snowballs ... he sat upright at the sound of hooves. 'What's that?'
'See to it, Boascawen,' Tony commanded. 'And for God's sake bring on the meat, man.'
'Yes, sir, Mr Hilton, sir.' Boscawen took the commands in order, daintily stepped round the kneeling figure of Vernon, crunched some glass beneath his bare feet and paused, with a pained expression on his face, then continued towards the door, without even a limp. 'Absolom? But what you doing up here this time?'
The driver wore only his drawers; his huge chest heaved and dripped sweat. 'Is that Mary Nine. She screaming fit to raise Damballah.'
'Eh?' Dick raised his head. 'Screaming?'
'Well, is the child, see, Mr Hilton, sir? He pushing he head out and causing she too much pain. And is a fact Mr Roche done gone with them others.'
'Roche?' Dick asked, stupidly.
'The white dispenser,' Harriet said. 'This girl, Mary Nine, is too young to have a child, really. She will probably die.'
'Die?' Dick scrambled to his feet. 'We must do something, Harriet. Mistress Gale, you must help me.' He inhaled. 'I mean help her.'
'Me? Help a nigger girl give birth?'
'You must. You said you like to watch. Now you can do more. Horses, Mr Boscawen. Quick, now.'
Boscawen glared at Absolom. 'You seeing what you done, you stupid black man? You upset the master.'
'Well, she screaming . . .'
'Horses,' Dick said firmly. He seized Harriet's wrist and half dragged her from her chair. 'Please. Tony . . .?'
Tony was regarding the enormous side of beef being brought into the dining room by two other of the footmen. 'I'll just stay here and mind the house,' he said.
'For God's sake.' Dick pulled Harriet from the room. 'Horses.'
'You can use mine, Mr Hilton, sir,' Absolom said. 'Oh, thanks.' Dick gasped, and swung into the saddle. 'I will come whenever mine is saddled,' Harriet decided. 'Now,' he insisted, leaned down, grasped her under the armpits, and tried to lift her.
'Help me,' he shouted at Absolom.
The driver hesitated for a moment, then ran forward, seized Harriet's ankles, and pumped them upwards. A moment later she was sitting in the saddle in front of Dick, squirming to make herself comfortable, her hair flowing back to fill his mouth, while she gasped for breath.
He was already kicking the horse forward, sending it galloping down the hill, towards the hubbub which marked the slave village.
'Really, Mr Hilton,' she said, having got her breathing under control. "Tis no way to treat a lady, indeed it is not. I'd not remained on Hilltop to be midwife to a black.'
'I'd not know what to do without you,' he said, and rode into the street of the village, to find himself in the midst of the slaves, all clamouring at him, setting up a tremendous din, but mostly, he realized, in wonderment at his presence.
'Is the master, man.'
'Eh-eh, but you seeing that?'
'And Mistress Gale.'
'Man, but what is this?'
Harriet slid from the saddle, struck the ground rather heavily, and hastily adjusted her skirts. Dick jumped down beside her. 'Where is the hospital?'
'Hospital, massa? Hospital?'
'The dispensary,' Harriet shouted, possibly at him.
'Ah, yes, the dispensary.'
The unearthly scream which cut through the night was a better directive than any of the gabbled instructions. He thrust them aside and ducked his head to enter the building, slightly larger than the average hut, to recoil in horror at the foetid stench which swept across his nostrils. The dispensary was hardly less crowded than the street, and the flickering torches seemed to be licking at the very beams of the rafters. In the centre of the floor a space had been left clear, and here Joshua Merriman knelt.
'Joshua,' Dick gasped in relief, ran to his side, and again recoiled as he watched the blood trickling across the beaten earth floor, issuing from between the legs of the young Negress, she really was only a girl, who lay t
here, her head on Joshua's knees.
'Oh, my Christ.' Harriet stood beside him. 'She's gone.' 'Joshua?'
Joshua raised his head. He looked tired. But he held in his hands a tiny scrap of black humanity. 'It jammed up,' he said. 'I had to take it, hard.'
'Godalmighty!' Dick had to shake his head to clear his senses. 'And the child?'
Joshua sighed. 'That too, Mr Hilton, sir. That too. I done make a messup of this one.'
'And you needn't have called us at all,' Harriet said severely. 'Ugh. Me dress has blood on it. Really, Mr Hilton . . .'
'You can have another dress,' he promised. Wasn't that the attitude around here, and with lives no less than possessions? 'What do we do?'
Joshua laid the babe beside its mother. 'Well, we got for bury them, Mr Hilton. You there, take them out.'
Two of the men came forward, one to seize the wrists and the other the ankles of the dead woman, as if she had been a sack of coal. Another picked up the child by the ankles.
'My God,' Dick said. 'It can't be done now. There is no coffin, no priest. . .'
'Coffin? For a black girl?' Joshua was amazed.
'Well, at least let us wait until morning.'
'It warm, Mr Hilton, sir,' Joshua pointed out. 'Morning time she going be smelling high, and causing sickness.'
Dick scratched his head. The bodies had already been removed. 'But... a priest. . .'
'Mr Hilton, sir, that girl ain't no Christian. If you can pray like Damballah, now, then maybe you got cause.'
'Damballah?'
'He speaks of the voodoo gods,' Harriet whispered. 'These people are heathens, snake worshippers, most of them. For Christ's sake, Mr Hilton, let us be away.'
'Is a fact, Mr Hilton,' Joshua said. 'I am too sorry to interrupt your dinner, for nothing.'
'For. heaven's sake,' Dick said, 'you did the right thing, Joshua. I should be present whenever any one of them is born. Or dies. They are my people.'
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