Brother Fish

by Bryce Courtenay

  She was fixing ham and eggs in the kitchen when she heard the commotion at the laundry door. Thinking it was Jimmy coming in early from the hothouse for breakfast, she called out, ‘Guten Morgen, meine

  Liebling!’ Then, sensing something amiss, she glanced back at the door to be confronted by her twin sons. She screamed and dropped the cast-iron skillet, spilling ham and eggs over the scrubbed kitchen floor. Then she sank to her knees and began to howl.

  Not having any idea of how to pacify their mother, the twins left her where she knelt weeping and went through to their bedroom to drop their kit. Here they discovered Frau Kraus had a boarder who owned a pair of highly polished western riding boots, a carefully brushed white Stetson, a neatly ironed tartan shirt and a pair of freshly laundered blue jeans. They returned to the kitchen to find her now lying prostrate, sobbing into her folded arms.

  ‘Who’s the cowboy staying in our room?’ Fritz demanded.

  Frau Kraus clutched Fritz around his ankles. ‘Jimmy gut boy!’ she pleaded.

  ‘Jesus Christ! She’s let the nigger stay in our room!’ Henrik exclaimed. ‘The dirty black bastard is staying in our room!’

  ‘The old bitch is probably shagging him,’ Fritz declared contemptuously. ‘You sleeping with the nigger, Frau Kraus?’

  Frau Kraus was too overcome to answer, other than to repeat, ‘Jimmy gut boy!’ and then commence to sob afresh, repeating the three words over and over.

  ‘Why, you dirty old bitch!’ Henrik shouted down at her. ‘Where is he?’

  This only caused Frau Kraus to sob with greater gusto.

  Jimmy was in the tomato hothouse cleaning and scrubbing the large structure. Cleaning and making potting mix, as well as preparing the seed trays they would plant in mid-January, took from mid-October until the early part of January. It was cold and dirty work, and Jimmy was looking forward to his breakfast when he heard footsteps outside the hothouse and looked up to see two uniformed soldiers enter, each armed with a baseball bat.

  Jimmy recognised the Kraus twins immediately. ‘You done come home!’ Jimmy called, walking towards them, wiping his hand on his overalls before extending it to greet them.

  ‘You’ve been fucking Frau Kraus, nigger!’ Then, not waiting for a reply, Fritz swung the baseball bat at Jimmy’s head.

  Jimmy lifted his right arm to avoid the blow that struck him hard on the hand.

  The twins beat Jimmy to a pulp and then loaded his unconscious body onto the back of the Dodge truck. They drove him well past Somerville and eventually headed along the Kinderkamack Road, which runs beside the Hackensack River in Bergen County. They may well have thought about throwing him in the river but elected instead to dump him on the outskirts of the borough of River Edge, for all intents and purposes making it look like a hit-and-run accident.

  It was here that the highway patrol discovered Jimmy after responding to a call from a member of the public claiming a dead Negro lay at the side of the road about two miles out near the Erie Railroad track. The police officers concluded that he’d been the victim of a hit-and-run accident and radioed for an ambulance. Jimmy, still unconscious, was wrapped in a blanket and taken to Holy Name Hospital on the outskirts of River Edge, where he was admitted to the emergency room. Medical staff checked his blood pressure and vital signs, and put him on a drip.

  Jimmy regained consciousness several hours later and was asked where he hurt. He could neither speak nor use his dislocated arm or broken hand to indicate and, in any case, had been so thoroughly beaten he wouldn’t have known where to begin. He was taken into theatre and examined. The X-rays showed he’d broken his hand and his nose, and six of his ribs. His jaw was badly swollen but did not appear to be broken, and his shoulder was dislocated. In the care of the Holy Name medical staff, his shoulder was realigned, his hand set and plastered and his ribs strapped. In addition, a laceration on the left side of his face required twenty-seven stitches.

  Five days later Jimmy, now black and blue from multiple bruising, the swelling in his jaw somewhat subsided, was sufficiently recovered to be interviewed. The sister in charge of the ward asked him if he’d seen the vehicle that hit him, as the police were anxious to interview him. Jimmy then proceeded to tell the nun the story of his beating. She immediately reported what she’d heard to her Mother General, Agatha Black, the hospital superintendent, who then called Somerville County Courthouse where she was put through to the sheriff.

  Sheriff Daimon T. Waterman, a bear of a man who weighed close to 280 pounds and was locally known as Diamond T., the make of a large road-haulage truck common at the time, decided to personally take charge of the case. He arrived at the hospital that same afternoon, ostensibly to conduct an interview and take a statement from Jimmy.

  ‘Dat sheriff, he da man who done give me mah special drivin’ licence,’ Jimmy explained. ‘He da man who arrest Herr Kraus dat one time dey take him away. He know me, man. He know I’s a good nigger!’ Jimmy sighed. ‘But now suddenly he don’t want to know me no more.

  ‘“Jimmy, you’re in big trouble,” he say to me straight off. “Big, big, trouble.”

  ‘“Why so, sheriff, sir?” I ask, “I ain’t done nothing wrong!”

  ‘He thinks some, den he say, “You put your black dick in a white woman’s pussy, Jimmy.”

  ‘“I ain’t, Sheriff! I swear I ain’t put no dick in dat place! Frau Kraus she mah friend, you can ask her yohself.”

  ‘“Hmm,” the sheriff say, den he think some more an’ he rub his chin. “Jimmy, the boys, the Kraus twins, they’re war heroes who fought at Guadalcanal, Iwo Jima and Okinawa. They’ve survived the Japanese to come home to find the black help is fornicating with their mama. Naturally, they’re mighty upset.”

  ‘I don’t know what dis forn-catin’ is, but I can tell from what he say it ain’t good. “Sheriff, I tol’ you I ain’t done dat. I ain’t done no forn-catin’ wid der mama, wid Frau Kraus. God’s truth, I swear it!”

  ‘He don’t say nothin’, he jes look at me, den he open his briefcase and take out a piece of paper and he hold it up so, in da air in front mah face. “Jimmy, I have here a signed statement from the Kraus twins. It states that they arrived home at six-thirty a.m on the 18th of October to find you in the act of having intercourse with their mother.”

  ‘“What dis intercourse?” I ask him. I also don’t know dat time what means dis word. ‘I always in da tomato hothouse dat time, sheriff. I’s mixin’ pottin’ an’ scubbin’ an’ cleaning. I always start early, five-thirty o’clock. At seven o’clock Frau Kraus she always fixin’ mah breakfast. I in da hothouse dat time Mr Fritz and Mr Henrik say I done do what dey say I done to Frau Kraus.”

  ‘He shake his head. “Jimmy, it’s your word against theirs. A black kid from an institution, against the word of two war heroes defending their mother’s honour. Who do you think the judge will believe, eh?”

  ‘“I don’t know, sheriff, but I ain’t lying – I ain’t done nothin’ bad,” I say to him.

  ‘He sit and I can see he thinking, then he say, “Jimmy, can I give you some advice?”

  ‘“Yessir, sheriff.”

  ‘“Well now, let’s see, you are in big trouble, boy. Big, big trouble.”

  He smile. “But boys will be boys, sowing their wild oats, eh?”

  ‘I don’t ask him what mean sowin’ wild oats. I already got all dem other things he say I done, which I ain’t. Tomatoes I done sow plenty, but I ain’t never sowed no wild oats, dat another thing I ain’t done.

  ‘“I don’t want you to say anything to anyone, you hear boy?” he asks. “I’m not going to take down your statement – not today, anyhow. I want you to think about what I’ve said, then you can talk to me again. You only talk to me and I talk to the judge and I tell him you’re a good, hardworking boy and that you’ve never been in trouble before. We can settle this thing if you do as I say.” He stop and he look at me and shake his head. “If you don’t the judge will send you to Elmira. You heard of Elmira, Jimmy?”r />
  ‘I tell him I don’t know dis place. He explain Elmira a Re-form-a-tory for boys in New York.

  ‘“If I hear you’ve been talking to anyone else, you’re in big trouble, Jimmy. Do you understand?” he asks, and he point his finger at me.

  ‘“Yessir, sheriff,” I say to him. I scared, man. I’s fifteen years old and I don’t want to go to no Elmira Re-form-a-tory. I ain’t done dem things he say – forn-catin’, intercourse and sowin’ dem wild oats, but I’s a nigger – nobody gonna believe me. Maybe da sheriff he’s gonna find out about da gobblin’ spider, maybe dat just as bad as dem other things I ain’t done.’ Jimmy laughed. ‘And gobblin’ spider, dat somethin’ I def-fin-nately done and den maybe I in big, big trouble, man!

  ‘“Jimmy, I’ve got an idea,” da sheriff now say. “You’re a man now – do you think you can look after yourself?”

  ‘“Yessir, sheriff.”

  ‘“Then listen to me, boy. It’s much better that you vamoose. You know what I mean? Get lost. Go to New York, stay there, maybe change your name.”

  ‘“Why I gonna do dat, sheriff?” I ask him. “You jes say you gonna speak to the judge, tell him I’m a good nigger?”

  ‘Da sheriff, he nod his head and smile. “Certainly I can do that, and it might work. But your case is to be heard at the County Courthouse in Hackensack and not in Somerset County – that’s not my jurisdiction, I won’t be able to help you that much.” He think some den he say, “You want my honest opinion, Jimmy?”

  ‘I nods mah head.

  ‘“You are fifteen years old and a dependent child, also a foster child, and there is strong evidence that you’ve been having sexual relations with your foster mother.” He look at me. “That’s called carnal knowledge – the judge ain’t going to like that, and he’s very likely to sentence you to Elmira Reformatory.”

  ‘“But I tol’ you, I ain’t done nothin’, sheriff!”

  ‘He sigh, den he say, “It’s your word against the Kraus twins, the war heroes. I don’t think the judge will take the word of a Negro boy against theirs.”

  ‘“Sheriff, sir,” I say, “I ain’t got no clothes, I ain’t got no money! How’s I gonna get me the bus to New York?”

  ‘“Have you got clothes at the farm? With Frau Kraus?” he ask.

  ‘“I got mah Sunday best for drivin’ Frau Kraus to church,” I tell him.

  ‘Before he leave he take out two bills an’ make to shake my hand an’ now I’m holdin’ da money. Den he say real quiet, “Jimmy, you’re doing the right thing, you hear? This way you save everyone a lot of trouble, but mostly yourself. I’ll tell the judge your jaw was too swollen to talk, to make a statement, then later when I returned you’d run away. If you want to stay out of the reformatory, you’ll catch that bus. You hear, boy? Catch the bus. I don’t want to see you in Somerville ever again.”

  ‘When the sheriff gone, in come da Mother General who don’t know what jus’ happen with Sheriff Diamond T. “Jimmy, don’t worry, I’ve spoken to the bishop and we’re going to make sure you get justice,” she says to me.

  ‘“Yes, ma’am, thank you.” I say to her. Now I really scared, man! She wrong one hundred per cent! A boy like me ain’t gonna get no justice. The sheriff, he right – da judge he gonna put me in dat Elmira Re-form-a-tory, dat for sure! Ain’t no bish-op gonna help me get no justice, man.

  ‘Den da Mother General, she say, “Jimmy, the doctor says you can leave the hospital in four days and as you cannot return to your foster home you revert to being a dependent child, a ward of the court. We applied to the court to release you into the care of the church and the bishop has agreed to make a place for you in a Catholic boys’ home. But the court has decided that you should go to a local institution, just down the street from the courthouse, and you will be going to the Bergen County Children’s Home in Hackensack.” She smiled. “I’m sorry you can’t experience the Catholic influence, but you’ll be in safe enough hands where you’re going.”

  ‘Now I got me some more big trouble, man. I don’t want to go to no children’s home. I’s a man now, I done me a man’s work foh three years. I don’t want to be treated like no chile no more. Frau Kraus she treat me good, like a man. Next day someone leave a hessian sack at the hospital for me. It tied at da top wid red twine the same as we use for tying labels to dem bif-steak tomato plants. Inside is my Stetson, boots, mah belt wid’ a solid silver buckle an’ dem tore-quoi stones, tar-tan shirt, jeans an’ mah two pair special knitted Frau Kraus red birthday socks. In da shirt pocket is a note, ‘Jimmy, danke meine Liebling, Frau Kraus’. Also in da pocket she put fifty dollars. I’s rich, man! I got me two ten-dollar bills from da sheriff and now I got seventy dollars. It time to kick da dust. I’m outta dere pronto, I’m gonna find me a life in da big wide worl.’

  ‘What about the court case?’ I asked him. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Nah, man, I too scared da judge gonna send me to dat Elmira Reform-a-tory.’

  ‘But you were innocent!’ I protested.

  Jimmy shrugged. ‘Nigger ain’t never innocent, dat for sure, Brother Fish. I never done find out what happened. Four o’clock next mornin’ da ward sister she asleep, she snorin’ like she cuttin’ logs. I get me up and dress in mah Frau Kraus birthday clothes and I carry mah boots ’til I outside dat place. Den I escape myself away from dat hospital an’ da bishop an’ me gettin’ no justice I ain’t gonna get an’ da boys home an’ da judge who gonna send me to Elmira Re-form-a-tory. I gone, man! I sad ’bout only one thing – I ain’t never gonna see Frau Kraus no more. She bin kind to me. She always treat me like her own son. I love her big time, man!’

  At the time Jimmy told me the story I confess I was disappointed. In my imagination I had him winning the case, with the twins receiving a lengthy jail sentence. I guess everyone likes a happy ending.

  But, of course, life doesn’t work like that. In particular, it doesn’t for a fifteen-year-old Negro boy without anyone to guide him. It wasn’t hard to understand why he’d run away. The sheriff had convinced him he was in big trouble. Despite not having done any of the things the Kraus twins had accused him of he’d nevertheless participated in frequent gobbling-spider episodes. If the judge were to discover these he’d be a dead cert for Elmira. Even if he didn’t find out, the sheriff had already warned him that the judge wouldn’t take his word against two war heroes. He’d be found guilty of intercourse, ‘forn-cation’, sowing wild oats and, possibly, spider-gobbling.

  Furthermore, there was the highly undesirable prospect of being placed in the care of the Bergen County Children’s Home. Jimmy would be returning to an institution with all its rules and restrictions after having been treated like the man of the house by Frau Kraus. He’d proved he could run the farm as well as Otto Kraus. In fact, the bank manager at Somerville’s First National, Mr Simon Lean, told Frau Kraus she was making more money from her pots of beefsteak tomato plants than her husband had ever banked in a season from his entire tomato crop.

  The untimely death of Otto Kraus was yet another thing on Jimmy’s overburdened mind. In the urge to confess what humans so often feel when they’ve got something on their conscience, Frau Kraus had told

  Jimmy about the arsenic she’d put into her husband’s after-dinner coffee. She’d emphasised that she’d diligently warned her husband on every single occasion not to drink the coffee, adding that she’d also never personally placed it in front of him.

  Jimmy, who had observed how Otto Kraus treated his wife, accepted her revenge as rough and simple justice. The fact that she’d warned him not to drink it and hadn’t placed it in front of him, in his mind, made her practically innocent. He didn’t see it as an act perpetrated by someone who might not be entirely sane. He accepted that Frau Kraus was a strange woman but lacked the experience to judge her actions against those of any other woman in similar circumstances. The only women he’d known previously were the ones at the orphanage, who, even without husbands, had been pretty strange, while none of th
em had shown him the loving-kindness and generosity Frau Kraus had lavished on him. She’d treated him like the mother he’d never had and while the occasional gobbling-spider episode was something that happened between them, it had never led to anything else. In fact, with the arrogance typical of the young male, he’d come to regard the little incidents in the shower as a service he rendered to Frau Kraus with the added bonus of mutual pleasure. Nevertheless Jimmy knew enough to know her poisoning of Otto Kraus was a secret that must never be revealed. He felt sure that the judge might force this knowledge out of him by some devious and trick questioning. Everyone knew judges were the cleverest people in the world and could get you to confess everything you’d ever done, and more. He’d be responsible for Frau Kraus going to prison, or even being sentenced to the electric chair.

  Come to think of it, if I had found myself in the same circumstances at Jimmy’s age, and with nobody to reassure or advise me, I’m pretty certain I would have come to the same decision as he had and done a runner to New York. He was simply carrying too much emotional weight for a fifteen-year-old.

  When Jimmy told me his side of the story in prison camp, I’d always wanted to know what happened after he’d taken his unauthorised leave of absence from Holy Name Hospital. In particular, I was anxious to know how Frau Kraus had ended up.

  Some twenty years after the Korean War, I was in New York negotiating to buy a fishing trawler. Finding myself with a day to spare I hired an Avis car and drove the short distance to Somerville. To my surprise Somerset County was still a rural community growing apples, peaches and blueberries, as well as mixed farming. I saw a soya-bean crop, potatoes and corn and several fields where jersey cows grazed. The town must have grown a little since Jimmy’s time as there seemed to be some recent new buildings, but it had missed the post-war development I observed in Teaneck and Hackensack in neighbouring Bergen County. I called in at the offices of the Somerset Messenger-Gazette and made inquiries. The editor knew nothing about the Kraus case and told me they only kept files for fifteen years, except for exceptional events, and he suggested that a court case such as the one I’d mentioned was unlikely to fall into this category. ‘We’ll ask Bessie,’ he volunteered. ‘She’s been in our cutting service for thirty-five years – she may remember a case like that.’