by Smith, Skye
"Does Robert smoke tobacco?" Britta pointed to some large leaves hanging from a wooden rail.
"His other addiction left over from the war," admitted Lydia, "though at least he no longer chews it. That was disgusting."
"And he is addicted to rum, too?" asked Britta.
"No, thank heavens, but never put a full bottle down in front of Red Jennison. He will not leave it until it is empty."
Britta scanned her eyes over the medicines. She would have to spend more time with them to see what there was. The little boxes were all labeled, but she did not know her herbs by letters, but by look and smell and taste. There was only one bottle of opium syrup and it was half gone.
Lydia smiled, "The level has not changed in six months. I am close to curing him of it. The East India Company profited well from him for many years, but no more."
"The Company, how so?" asked Britta.
"Except for the things from New Spain, and the local herbs and tobacco, the rest of these expensive things come here on Company ships. Sometimes I think that the Company gave the syrup to the army surgeons just to make sure that the patient's families would have to keep buying opium from them forever."
"But also the spices, yes?" said Britta. "Those are cloves. I saw them in a market once. They wanted a penny for five cloves. Five cloves weigh nothing. And that is cinnamon. That and that and that I don't know, but ...."
"Enough for now. I can hear Robby. The boxes and jars and drawers are all labeled. I did that myself. When they have need of some, the cooks ask for them by those same names."
Britta looked at the letters of the words on the closest label. Though it was slow going, she sort of knew how to sound the written letters out.
* * * * *
* * * * *
MAYA’S AURA - the Redemptioner by Skye Smith
Chapter 9 - The Dairy Plantation
Robert and Jon walked Red and James as far as the footbridge that crossed the small river that separated Robert's estate from Red's. They walked back slowly and enjoyed the shade of the gracefully weeping willows along the bank.
"This is the largest dairy farm in the valley, by far," Robert told him proudly. "Dairy farms are endless work, and endless work that must be done every day. My farm workers are all women. Black women. Chattel slaves. There are fifteen of them, if you include Lucy the overseer.
The secret to making a dairy farm profitable is the choice of workers. When my grand father first settled here, the only dairy was run by a Dutch family. They depended on the labor of their many children. My grandfather decided to build a dairy farm using the plantation method they use in Rhode Island and in the Caribbean. He tried all different mixes of labor trying to make it work. Red Indian men, Red Indian women, redemptioners, Irish slaves, African slaves, and finally Caribbean slaves.
When my father took it over from my grandfather, he stuck to two rules. Use only female labor, and buy chattel slaves, so you can breed them as you breed the cattle. My women are now a mix of races. Though they look like Blacks, many of them have Irish last names. I added one more rule. Don't let the local men hump the women. I don't allow any men on my land unless they have business with me."
He stopped walking and leaned against a fence railing and looked out over the peaceful rolling pastures and the cattle. "My plantation dairy is now so successful, that one by one I am buying out all the surrounding farms. It is a lot to manage, because there are fifteen women, and over fifty children working here."
Jon knew from Robert's tone that there was a 'Yeh, but' coming up. "Are you about to say 'but'?"
Robert chuckled and scrubbed Jon's hair roughly in fun, and then had to apologize for how much is carefree action had hurt the lad's facial bruises. "Your a good lad, and smart. Yes there is a 'but'. But my successful plantation dairy is on the wrong side of that border over there." He pointed south towards Rhode Island. "Chattel slavery doesn't sit well with the Puritans of Massachusetts. Not that they are completely against slavery, but they do not believe that anyone should be born a slave."
"Ah, the child of a chattel women is born a chattel," Jon quoted James.
"Aye, but if I wasn't allowed to breed my women, then this plantation would not pay for itself. I would go broke feeding all the children if I were not be able to sell them when they were of age. Eventually I will be shut down by the Puritans, and the farmers around me will be glad of it. So, I have two choices. Close the dairy while I can still sell the assets, or trade my land for land in Rhode Island and move the dairy."
"So Rhode Island doesn't have the same feeling about slaves?" asked Jon.
"No, not at all. There are many plantations in Rhode Island. The Puritans do not control the politics there, for Rhode Island allows churches of all types, excepting Papists of course. A lot of Baptists, because that church is more forgiving of privateers, smugglers, and slavers. And Newport, well Newport is the richest town in New England, and much of it because there are so many canny Jews."
Jon was eager to show that he did know things. "Because they were privateers during the world war, right, and because of whaling."
"Partially I suppose," said Robert thoughtfully. "Mainly though, because a large number of Portuguese Jewish families moved to Newport to escape the Papist Inquisition. Families that knew the sugar industry, and how to make rum, and what and where to trade for the slaves that the sugar plantations need."
They had reached the bunkhouse closest to the house. "Lucy," Robert called out. "Lucy, are you home. I have someone for you to meet." An older black woman came to the door and smiled at them both. Her smile was big and white and healthy despite her age. "Lucy, this is Jon. He is my new bond servant and he needs to be trained in the running of the farm. Could you check him out for me." Then he turned to Jon and said, "Follow her and do whatever she asks."
"Come in Jon," she said in a friendly voice and led him into her room. "Now take off all your clothes and then stand still. My, that is a nasty cheek and eye. Are you a fighter? Hurry now. I said all of your clothes."
"I was hit by a musket butt. The surgeon said it will look worse than it is."
"Well it looks mighty bad. All of your clothes. Master Robert wants me to check your health." He jumped backwards away from her when she reached out and grabbed his manhood. "Relax, sugar. I'm just having a good look. Turn a bit so I have better light. You ever have any funny sores on it?"
She grabbed a flagon from a shelf and poured it over his manhood. "Just a bit of vinegar, sugar. Does it sting? No. That is good."
Despite her being old, her experienced touch aroused him, and then aroused him more and more until he spurted. "All right lad, that is all I need to know. Put your clothes back on while I go and talk to Master Robert." She stood and walked out into the sunlight leaving him alone in the small room.
"He is clean," she said to Robert, "and he has the typical hair trigger and abundancy of a teenage boy. I didn't even have to use my mouth. Were you thinking of using him to stud the women. They will be pleased, cause he will give them cute babies."
"How many do you think we should breed this season?" he asked.
"Likely five. At his age he should be able to do all of them every day. Are you going to do any this time around?" She had asked him this question every year since the war ended. He always refused, but it was his right as the master, so she always asked it.
"No, Lucy, I am too old. They don't need some old codger huffing and puffing over them."
"I used to enjoy your visits," Lucy buttered him up. Long ago she had been his favorite. "Should I start him now?"
"He is tired from his trip and his cheek is paining him. Put him with one and show him what is expected. Someone young and gentle. Where do you think he should bed down?"
"Hmmm, another white man on the farm?" she said to him with a smile and an expression mocking shock. "Well then the watchman's room near the front door would be best."
Jon came out of the door, dressed again and looking sheepish. "Jon, sta
y here with Lucy. She will show you your duties and your room. Have you ever fired a musket before?" The boy looked stunned. "Oh never mind. That will be for tomorrow."
* * * * *
"Your house is a wonder," laughed Britta and swirled around in the kitchen looking at everything. There was even an indoor pump.
"It's not my house. Robert built it for his first wife. Before that they lived in the old farm house. His old auntie lives there now. She despises me. It has become mutual so we never see her anymore." A band of roving black children ran through the kitchen playing some game and looking for any food that may have been left out. She clapped her hands at them and they gave her a big smile and ran out towards the front porch.
"You will have to do the carrying up and down stairs," Lydia continued. "When my husband is not here I get the children to do it, but he forbids them the upstairs. In fact, if you want anything just ask the children. They are all eager to be helpful. I am a kinder to them than their mothers."
"There certainly are a lot of them."
"Well, my husband keeps herds of dairy cattle and herds of dairy blacks and they take good care of each other. He sells produce and those bred from the herds, and it keeps him wealthy. Caldwell butter, Caldwell cattle, and Caldwell blacks are always of the highest quality. By the time we sell the children, they can read and write and have manners fit for a manor. I teach them."
"You sell the children?" Britta clamped her hand across her mouth. It had just slipped out.
Lydia was immediately defensive. "That is one of the businesses we are in. Since they are trained and can read and write, they go to good homes where they will be treated well. Can you read and write?"
"I, ugh, a little," Britta lied. She hoped she wasn't asked about manners.
Lydia watched the girls reaction, "Then I will teach you, so that you can help to teach the children. How about your brother?" The girl shook her head. "Then I will teach him as well. Don't be embarrassed. Robert spent much time teaching me when his wife was poorly. Too much time. He had vowed to his wife that he would not take me, but, well, then during my lessons we started sitting closer and closer to each other." She shrugged and smiled. "I shouldn't complain. If it weren't for our adultery, I wouldn't have Robby."
"Will you make him vow to stay away from me?" asked Britta.
"How can I? I would be a hypocrite. He inherited my bond from his wife, so I belonged to him when we wed. We did not love each other, but the wedding solved many problems for the both of us. He gave his name to my child, and I comforted him though his loss." Lydia frowned. "I wish there was more love between us, and more sex. I try so hard to make him love me, but I will settle for lust."
Britta saw the sadness in Lydia's face, or was it loneliness. "Do you have many visitors, or parties? This house was designed for entertaining."
"I suppose you mean other than the fifteen women and their fifty children. When his first wife was healthy she was always entertaining. Those same people shun me. In the two years since she got very ill, only Red Jennison visits out of friendship." Lydia smiled naughtily. "I really shouldn't tease Red so. One day it will go too far and Robert will shoot him."
Another group of children, even younger than the first, roared through the large kitchen. "So many children," said Britta, and all so happy she noticed.
"We try to breed some of the herd every year, so there is at least two years between siblings."
"The cattle?"
"Both herds," replied Lydia. "We rotate the bull with other farms every two years to keep the bloodlines clear." She looked at Britta and saw confusion on her face. "Since he is here anyway, your brother will be the next bull for the women." She saw a twinkle come to Britta's eye, and a slow smile. "Wipe that slut's smirk from your face. Your brother will lose his smirk soon enough once a half dozen hefty women have their way with him."
Britta responded without thinking, "Well perhaps dreaming of you will keep him going."
Lydia grabbed her arm and pulled her face to face. "Warn Jon to ignore me at all times. Robert is a possessive and jealous man. Violently so." She let her go and calmed herself. "Come, I'll take Robby. Let's go back upstairs. Bring two buckets of hot water and we will bathe him."
* * * * *
Britta was in the nursery with cute little Robby when Robert came upstairs. The nursery was like a small bedroom off the master suite and the only way in, was through that suite. The master and mistress of the house did not hush their tones when they spoke in front of the servants. She supposed that was normal for people accustomed to being waited on.
Robert strode purposefully into the bedroom and swung Lydia around to face him. "How dare you embarrass me in front of strangers. Have you no shame?"
Instead of fighting his grip she came closer to him until her breast was touching his. "I was hoping to ignite your flame, not theirs. But a flame of lust, not anger. I'm sorry. It was foolish. Forgive me." She put her hand around the back of his neck and pulled herself up to his lips. He pushed her away.
She sobbed a little. "Why do you do that. You haven't slept with me for two months. The baby is weaned. I am hungry for another. Oh please, please desire me, hold me, be lustful with me."
"You dressed like a whore."
"I dressed in the latest fashion from Boston. What whore could afford such fabric? Now that we have Britta to care for the child, will you take me to Boston. Oh please. Let me dress up and be around other well dressed-women. At a dance perhaps, at the music hall. I am like a wild flower wilting away in this valley of boring weeds. Oh promise me, the next time you go to a city on business, to take me there and let me make you proud of me."
"Make me proud of you. You mean by flaunting yourself to more strangers."
"So they will envy you. Don't you want to be envied? You know I am faithful." She remembered what Britta had said just hours before and now she repeated it. "Men enjoy looking. Looking is free and it is what they do best. What you see as lust for me for a moment, becomes envy of you for days. What good is all of this wealth if other men do not envy you." They both turned when they heard the happy gurgle of a baby.
Britta stood in the doorway to the nursery holding baby Robby. She was still damp from bathing Robby and her slightly damp shift was stuck to her curves. "Oh, I'm sorry." She turned to go back to the nursery, but was called back by Robert. She shifted her hold on Robby to be more modest.
"Hand him to me." He reached out for his son and swept him up into his arms, which forced Britta to reach up also. He caught his breath at the sight of her, and then lowered the baby to face level and spoke affectionately to him. He glanced at Lydia, hoping his obvious leers at Britta had angered her.
"Go ahead," Lydia said, "take a long stare at her. Britta, turn for him. Look at her Robert, see her nipples through the wet smock. Feel your lust rise, and feel your envy. That is what I was talking about. I really don't care where you get your appetite so long as you eat at home."
Britta looked between master and mistress to gage their mood. She covered her breasts with her arms, but then caught Lydia's eye. Could it be that Lydia wanted her to tease Robert. Oh no. That was too dangerous. Lydia was giving her a stern look, like it was an order. She uncrossed her arms and then turned slowly in place for Robert to watch.
"Not in front of the child," he said in a weak excuse. His pulse was racing and he was short of breath as if he had been climbing stairs. "Leave us, Britta. Take the baby out into the sunshine."
Britta did not bother with other clothes or even her shoes. She was so relieved that she took the baby and hurried away from them in just her damp shift and bare feet. She closed the door but just before it was completely closed she snuck a peek through the last crack. Robert was pulling Lydia towards the bed. Lydia was offering him the small kief pipe from her pocket. Good, hopefully his lust for Lydia will keep him away from me.
* * * * *
"He is very skinny for a bull," giggled Mandy, the comely young black woman standing in fron
t of Jon. She was as tall as he and about the same weight and much of that weight was muscle.
"Don't put him off, Mandy. It's his first time," cautioned Lucy from behind Jon.
"His first time, you mean here or anywhere?" She looked at Jon's face. "He is a pretty boy isn't he? I hope those bruises heal well. What did you do to yourself?"
"I tried to stop a killing, and got hit by a musket butt as my reward." Jon knew he had said too much but he felt the need to brag about something, anything, to prove himself a man to these women.
"Come on then sugar, step out of your britches and I will step out of mine." Mandy undid the rope around her waist and pulled down the men’s britches she wore when working with the cattle.
Jon watched her wriggle out of the clothes, and then shucked his own. He looked at her mat of dark curly hair, while she looked at his silky blonde thatch. "Should we start by kissing or something?" he asked.
"We are not lovers, sugar," she whispered, "you just need to fill me with your seed."
Lucy spoke in a low smooth tone. "Pamper him Mandy. It is his first time."
"I don't think I should, but you're the boss." Mandy stood in just her shirt. Jon was naked. She pulled him to her and put a finger under his chin to lift it, and then kissed him gently so as not to hurt his wound. The kiss was slow and sweet. She pushed her tongue gently into his mouth, but his body stiffened in her arms, and she stepped back and looked down her front. "Ugh, already. Look what have you done to my best shirt. It is soaking." She looked at Lucy. "See, I told you I shouldna."
"Oh my," said Lucy and started to laugh. "The hair triggers of teens."
"Hair triggers and lots of mess," Mandy was laughing too but then she saw the embarrassed shame on the boy's face. "That's all right, sugar. We have time enough to wait and time enough to try again. Next time I'll kiss other things than your lips."
