My Name's Not Friday

by Jon Walter

  ‘What news is that?’ Hubbard looks alarmed and searches her face for clues. ‘Are they both OK?’

  ‘They’ve fled the Hope plantation. Been gone two days now and no one’s seen ’em or can say where they are.’ She watches him closely. ‘Hubbard, can you tell me where they are?’

  Hubbard shakes his head. ‘I don’t know, ma’am.’ He wipes the back of his hand across his brow. ‘I hope they’re all right though. Where do you think they might have gone?’

  Peighton steps up onto our porch and leans against a post. ‘We thought they might have come here.’

  ‘Why would they come here?’ Hubbard shakes his head again. ‘They ain’t stupid, Mr Peighton. It’s the first place you’d look for ’em. I expect they’ve gone as far away from here as they could.’

  Peighton comes in closer, leaning against the frame of the door so he’s next to Hubbard. ‘Tell me what you know about it. Either you know where they are or you don’t.’

  Hubbard ignores him. He only speaks to the missus. ‘This is the first I heard, ma’am. The very first.’

  He’s twisting the fingers of his hands together and I can see he’s anxious.

  I try to interrupt. ‘He’d have told me if he knew, ma’am. But he ain’t said nothing to me.’

  But Mrs Allen don’t pay me no heed. She says, ‘You wouldn’t tell me if you knew, would you, Hubbard? That’s the problem I have. Do you see? I don’t think I can trust you to tell me what you know.’

  ‘How could I know, ma’am? We ain’t allowed to leave the plantation and we don’t get to speak to anyone. We’ve been in the dark about things for a good while now.’

  Mrs Allen walks across to stand by Peighton. ‘Mr Peighton believes you ain’t the kind of man who lets their wife and child go off alone, and I’m inclined to agree with him.’

  ‘He’ll be gone, Mrs Allen.’ Peighton smiles with satisfaction. ‘You take my word for it. With the Yankee lines this close, he’ll make a run for it soon as he gets the chance.’ He walks off the porch, calling back to the missus over his shoulder. ‘Soon as you turn your back, this one here’ll be gone.’ He lifts the fetters out of the dirt. ‘I’d sooner chain him now than let him leave you in the lurch like that.’

  Mrs Allen sucks at her bottom lip like she still ain’t sure. ‘Will they slow his work?’

  Peighton shrugs and ambles back towards the porch. ‘They’ll restrict him for sure, but he can still work. The length of the chain will let him walk OK, but he couldn’t run.’

  Lizzie comes up close to the porch so she’s near the shoulder of the missus. ‘We ain’t never had no one chained here, ma’am,’ she tells her quietly. ‘It ain’t the kind of thing the master would allow.’

  Mrs Allen nods. ‘I know that, Lizzie, but it seems I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.’

  ‘Do you really want to take the risk?’ Peighton holds up the length of chain and I feel the panic rise from my stomach to my throat as he reaches the porch steps. ‘It’s a short-term measure, Mrs Allen. It won’t be for ever. And it’ll protect your investment till we find his wife.’

  Seeing those chains up close makes the dread slither through my stomach like a snake, but Hubbard don’t look alarmed and I find that strange, what with him being such a proud man and everything.

  ‘Sit on the step,’ Mrs Allen tells him.

  Hubbard comes to the top step slowly, but he sits himself down without protest.

  ‘Take off your boots.’

  Hubbard places his big old boots, heels together, on the step beside him and lets his feet rest in the dirt. Peighton drops the chains at the side of the porch, then kneels and opens up a gate on the set of leg irons.

  ‘Let me do it.’ Mrs Allen crouches beside Peighton, who stands back to give her room. ‘Put your foot up here so I can see what I’m doing.’ Mrs Allen reaches down and takes hold of Hubbard’s heel, then lifts his foot so it rests in her lap. She takes the shackle and eases it around the back of his ankle, taking care to check that his skin won’t get caught before she closes the gate. ‘It’s pretty tight.’ She checks with Peighton. ‘Is that all right?’

  ‘Please, miss,’ I say, ‘I’m sure it ain’t necessary. I’ll keep an eye on him if you want me too. You can trust me, miss. I’ll even vouch for him myself.’

  Peighton takes a padlock from the pocket of his trousers and hands it over. ‘They don’t make ’em to size, but he’ll get used to it.’

  Mrs Allen puts the padlock in place and locks the gate, putting the key in the pocket of her dress, then she takes Hubbard’s other leg and does the same again. ‘Stand up,’ she tells him when she has finished. ‘Take a walk to the fire and back, so I can see.’

  Hubbard stands and steps away from the porch. He walks over to the fire and the chains sweep the dirt between his feet, making his stride half its usual length, so it looks like he stutters when he walks. He seems like a smaller man. We all can see it.

  Peighton lifts the second set of chains so they dangle at his side. ‘You want me to do his hands as well?’

  But Mrs Allen shakes her head. ‘I don’t think that will be necessary.’

  ‘It’s up to you. I’ll leave them up at the house so you can use them if you need to.’

  Peighton’s men have finished with the other cabins and they come past Hubbard and go up into ours. I can hear ’em walk the length of it, though they could see straight away that no one is there. When they come back onto the porch they shake their heads at Peighton, letting him know that it’s empty. ‘Well, that’s just as I expected,’ he announces. ‘But you all should know that we’ll be back.’

  Mrs Allen extends her hand to Peighton. ‘I’m hoping you’ll catch up with his family soon. Please let me know if you have any news?’

  ‘I’ll come straight over myself, Mrs Allen.’

  The missus takes one last look at Hubbard. ‘I hope this won’t have to be for long.’

  ‘I hope so too, ma’am. Please be sure to tell me if there’s any news of my wife and daughter.’

  Mrs Allen nods then accompanies the patrol back up to the house and we all gather around Hubbard as he sits back down on the step and feels around the edge of the irons with his finger. I go and fetch his pipe and Levi fills it for him with his own tobacco, though Hubbard could have done it himself; he ain’t helpless.

  Lizzie sucks at her front teeth. ‘This place is turning to the bad. I’ve seen it coming,’ she warns us. ‘I told you all.’

  Hubbard seems calmer than the rest of us. I don’t understand how he can just sit on our porch and let the smoke roll out of his mouth. When he’s finished his pipe, he stands up and takes himself inside the cabin. I follow him in and close the door. I wait for him to speak but he don’t. He keeps his back to me, making like he’s busy with the hearth.

  ‘You can’t let them do this to you.’

  ‘She can do as she likes. That’s the way it is.’

  ‘Hubbard, this ain’t right.’ He pokes at the ashes instead of answering me. I go and kneel next to him so I can see his face. ‘You ain’t even upset about it! What’s the matter with you? Why ain’t you fighting it? Why ain’t you standing up for yourself?’

  Hubbard stands up and walks away towards the door, his chains dragging across the floor as he goes. ‘Don’t go on about it,’ he tells me bluntly.

  I think of when he slapped me and how I said I hadn’t ever been so disappointed in a man. I won’t say it again but I’m thinking it again and he knows it too.

  Later that night, when I pray to the Lord, I try to list everything I’ve done that’s good today, but I can’t do it. I can’t work out what’s good or bad any more. It’s like I don’t know my right from my wrong and I can’t think what to do to make it all work out for the best.

  I decide to trust in the Lord. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll put my faith in His kindness and the mercy of His ways, to keep all of us safe, Mrs Allen included, cos if she only knew the error of her ways she could make ev
erything OK again. I know she could if she wanted to.

  Chapter 18

  The next day is a Sunday and Gerald knocks on our door just as soon as it is decent to do so. ‘Do you mind if I come inside?’ he asks when I answer.

  I let him in and he goes straight across to Hubbard, who’s sat on a chair up close to the hearth. He takes a moment to look at the shackles, then he kneels at Hubbard’s feet, feels the weight of the chains and runs a finger across the locks. ‘I’ll talk to Mother,’ he tells Hubbard. ‘I’m sorry this has happened.’

  It ain’t done for a master to apologize to a slave, and Hubbard’s embarrassed by it. He empties out his pipe and begins packing it again with new tobacco. ‘You don’t need to do that, Gerald. This won’t be for long. Your mother said so herself.’

  ‘It’s Peighton’s fault,’ I tell ’em both. ‘Every time he comes here there’s trouble, and now that him and the missus are getting along fine …’ I don’t bother finishing whatever point it is I think I’m making.

  Gerald stands and looks at me squarely. ‘Tell me where you learned to read, Friday.’

  Hubbard and I exchange a worried glance, but I tell the truth this time cos it’s all too late for anything else. ‘I’ve been reading as long as I can remember. I was taught at an orphanage along with a class of boys, all of us black.’

  ‘An orphanage?’

  ‘Yes, sir. You see, I ain’t really a slave. I was stolen away and sold by a trader who threatened to harm my brother. I should have told you long ago that I got a brother. It was that trader who named me Friday, named me after the day of the week, just like in Robinson Crusoe. But that ain’t me. Not the real me. Friday’s just someone that I had to be.’

  Gerald turns on Hubbard. ‘Did you know this?’

  ‘No. I mean, not at first – not at the auction. Samuel told me later.’

  I could kiss him for remembering my name.

  ‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’

  ‘I don’t see how we could have,’ Hubbard says steadily. ‘What were we gonna do about it?’

  It takes a moment, but Gerald comes up good, that big ol’ heart getting the better of his hurt feelings. ‘No,’ he says. ‘No, I don’t suppose you could.’ He puts a hand to his forehead as though it hurts. ‘Could I have a glass of water?’

  I hurry across, take a tin mug from the table and fetch it back, full to the brim. Gerald takes a good swig of it. ‘Can I ask you both a question? What would happen if you were all free? Right now, if you had the choice. Would you stay and work for a wage?’

  Hubbard and I stare at each other, unsure what we should say, but then I shrug. ‘Where would everyone go? They’ll still need a job and they’ll need a home, same as they always have. They’ve got those things here.’

  ‘You don’t think they’d go and join the Yankees?’

  Hubbard shakes his head. ‘I can’t see that happening. Those that wanted to fight have already gone.’

  And suddenly I can see what Gerald’s thinking, that freedom is on its way and there’s no stopping it, so if he frees us now he can make the best of it. We all can.

  ‘They’ll stay,’ I tell him. ‘I’m sure of it. And if they’re getting a wage then they’ll work harder, cos it’s for themselves as much as it is for you. It’ll be all of us working together, just like you wanted. We’d be like one big happy family. Your daddy always thought it would work out, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, he did.’ Gerald’s eyes are gleaming with the possibility of doing what his daddy always talked about.

  But Hubbard stops us right there and then. ‘You boys need to hold on. You’re forgetting ’bout the missus. It ain’t you who decides about that sort of thing, Gerald. It’s your mother.’

  And of course I knew that all along. I’d got carried away – we both had – cos there’s more chance of the Confederates winning the war than there is of Mrs Allen setting her slaves free.

  But Gerald don’t appear to think the way that I do. ‘Hubbard, listen to me. The truth of it is that Mother thinks Negroes are inferior. She said as much herself. So we got to change her mind.’ He looks at me. ‘That’s why I want you to read to her, Friday. Remember when I asked you to read to my father? Well, I want you to do it tonight for my mother. She’s got to see for herself what a Negro can do when he gets the same chances a white boy gets. Once she does, she won’t be able to believe the things she does. I’m certain we can convince her. I’m sure we can.’

  And suddenly I see it, clear as daylight, as if God were there in my head answering all my prayers Himself. ‘We’ve all got to read to her, Gerald. Not just me but every single one of us. If she’s gonna set us free, then we’ve got to show her what we all can do.’

  *

  I draw a line in chalk along the floorboards in Lizzie’s cabin.

  Every slave on the plantation is there and they stare at the white line. ‘Tomorrow we could all be free I tell ’em.’

  ‘How’s that gonna happen, Friday? Do you know something we don’t?’

  ‘I know we’re all gonna read to Mrs Allen and we’re going to do it tonight at evening prayers. We’re gonna convince her to give us our papers. I won’t have her think it’s just me who can read. She needs to know it’s all of us. She needs to know there’s not a slave in this country who can’t be educated if they’re given the chance to learn.’

  ‘I ain’t reading.’ Levi points a shaking finger at me. ‘You can count me out. She’ll have me whipped soon as look at me. What are you even thinking about?’

  Everyone starts shouting at once and arguing among themselves. It’s so loud I can’t make sense of what’s being said. I tell everyone to be quiet, but it makes no difference. No one can hear me anyway. So I take a pan and spoon from the hearth and bang them hard like the place is on fire. I make a real racket and it works. Suddenly everyone’s silent and they’re looking at me.

  I point the wooden spoon at Levi. ‘Are we a bunch of no-good Negroes?’ I wave the pan above my head. ‘Is that what we are? Just an ugly bunch of niggers who ain’t good for nothing except breaking our backs? Because I know I ain’t. I’m better than that and you are too.’

  Lizzie looks at me, all shamefaced and scared. ‘You’ve been free all that time, Friday. You don’t know what might happen. You don’t know what it’s like.’

  ‘That’s true.’ I agree with her. ‘That’s very true. But it’s the same the other way around. You all don’t know what it’s like to be free. You ain’t never owned your own body. You don’t dare think your own thoughts. You don’t even know what’s it like to be you. But if you never stand up for who you are, then no one else will.’ I look down at little Gil, cos he makes me think of Joshua. ‘We got to be brave. All of us have got to stick together and show some trust in one another.’ I point my spoon in the direction of the house. ‘Mrs Allen has no idea what we’re capable of. That’s the truth of it and she couldn’t treat us the way she does if she knew. You told me that, Lizzie. That’s the only reason they won’t let us read. It’s cos they’re scared of what we can do.’

  ‘But I’m scared of what they can do,’ says George.

  ‘Well, I can’t force any of you.’ I point to the line of chalk that separates them from me. ‘But this is our one chance to stand up for ourselves, it’s our chance to convince Mrs Allen to do the right thing, and if we ain’t willing to do it, then who else should?’ I look around the room, taking in each of their faces. ‘So who’ll come and stand with me?’

  Hubbard’s the first one to step across the line.

  *

  When Mrs Allen comes to read to us, the sun has set and rolls of thunder come in from the north on the warm night air. We are gathered by the fire pit and the flames light up our faces as we watch her oil lamp on its way past the trees, the missus carrying Virginia and Gerald walking beside her with the lamp held high.

  In one hand I have a grease lamp and in the other I hold a copy of the Bible, hidden from view behind my back with
a bookmark ready at the right page. When Mrs Allen arrives, she don’t notice anything different from any other evening. She calls for us to come in closer to the fire, then takes her usual place, with the flames crackling and spitting between us. She gives Virginia to Gerald and he stands her on the ground and takes hold of her hand as Mrs Allen lifts her prayer book and clears her throat to speak.

  ‘Excuse me?’ I step forward. ‘Mrs Allen?’

  She lowers her book and lifts her head. ‘Yes, Friday. What is it?’

  ‘Tonight, ma’am, I would like for us to read to you.’

  The missus puts a hand to her forehead and squints to get a better view of me. ‘What do you mean?’

  I open up my Bible. ‘It’s a passage from the Psalms.’ I clear my throat and begin before she can say another word. ‘“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters and he restores my soul.”’

  I hand the book to little Gil, who stands ready to my right, and he brings the grease lamp closer to the page so he can see it properly. ‘Go on now,’ I whisper. ‘Read it like we said.’

  Gil doesn’t let me down. He lifts his chin and his voice is sweet and clear. ‘“He leads me in the path of righteousness for his name’s sake.”’

  Across the fire from us, Mrs Allen looks like she’s seen the ghost of Jacob Marley. ‘What is this?’ she asks me. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

  Gerald puts a hand on her arm. ‘They’re reading, Mother. They been learning how to read.’

  Gil passes the book to George, who speaks up loudly. ‘“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil.”’ George passes it to Harriet. ‘“For thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff, they c … c …”’ I lean across and give her the word she struggles for. ‘“They comfort me,”’ she repeats after me.

  Mrs Allen has shaken Gerald’s hand from her arm and she walks quickly around the fire, never taking her eyes from our faces. ‘But they’re not reading,’ she says uncertainly, shaking her head and smiling, thinking she has the truth of it. ‘You’re reciting from memory. Everyone knows this Psalm. I can see you’ve been listening to Mr Chepstow, and well done – yes, well done to all of you. But that’s enough now.’ She holds out her hand for the book. ‘I want you to stop.’