I Thought My Soul Would Rise and Fly, page 6
Lately, I don’t feel like Patsy, though. Inside I am beginning to feel like Ruth and Cook and Mister Joe, who do what their minds tell them to do.
Friday, June 9, 1865
Dear Friend,
What excitement today! Ma’am got a letter from the magistrate ordering her to appear before him, regarding Nancy and Nancy’s mother. The court is going to decide who will keep Nancy. Ma’am and Nancy were both crying. (Ma’am either cries or cusses when she’s upset.) When the Wild One saw Nancy crying, he cried as well.
Sir quieted them all. He told Ma’am that she isn’t going before a Yankee military court, but before a civil court judge they know. “He is one of us,” he said. “He’s not going to take a child out of a good home. A child we have taken care of all of her life.” Nancy stopped crying, and so did the Wild One.
I hope the magistrate makes Nancy go with her own mother, because Nancy is too fool to know how lucky she is.
Saturday, June 10, 1865
Dear Friend,
Nancy is miserable. She is afraid she’ll have to go with her mother. I don’t feel sorry for her.
Ruth was paid her wages today, ten dollars, and she was so happy. Mister Joe had to go to the store for Sir and was taking Ruth and Luke with him. Luke chattered about it all morning. He’d never been to a store, nor had I. In the past, most of the things we needed were made right on Davis Hall. Anyway, during slavery time, we were never allowed to leave the plantation, except to walk down the road to St. Philip’s on Sunday mornings.
Ruth even put on her Sunday dress. “If anyone looks for me, Patsy, you tell them I went to the store and I’ll be back.”
I nodded, but I must have looked so sad. She asked me whether I’d emptied the chamber pots and made the beds. I nodded, yes, then she said, “Oh, gal, come on with us. Anybody say anything, I’ll say I need you to help me.”
“Come on, little daughter,” Mister Joe said as I limped up into the cart. He talked the whole time we rode into town.
We passed small farms with stick-and-mud houses and tiny cabins. Mister Joe told us they belonged mostly to poor white farmers. The whole family is working the fields. Then we rode past a larger farm, seemed almost as big as Davis Hall. The forest was pushed way back and the black laborers were working the cotton fields. Did Reverend McNeal preach at this farm, too?
The town was so very exciting. There is the store, in a white frame house, with a warehouse behind it, a mill, and a blacksmith shop. Mule and horse carts were tied to a railing that wound around the store. Some fancy horse and buggies sat on the other side of the road, shaded by large oak trees.
When we walked inside the store, it felt like Christmastime. It was crowded with people and so many things to buy! Luke’s eyes got so big, I thought they’d pop out of his head. My eyes were probably popping, too. Ruth’s mouth was wide open. The only one who acted like they had sense was Mister Joe. He walked up to the man who was selling things, while me, Ruth, and Luke stared all around us as if we were fools.
Oh, there were so many things, my Friend. Calico cloth in pink and blue, not like the plain homespun we always wear. I wiggled my toes as I stared at the beautiful slippers — some in yellow, others green. There were combs, ribbons, and soaps. Imagine not having to make your own soap. And there were jars overflowing with lemon drops and peppermint drops like Sir and Ma’am give us for Christmas. I saw sardines in cans, little silver brushes and mirrors, and beautiful chamber sets, with blue and white bowls and basins.
But, Friend, the thing that caught my eye was sheets of paper I could cut and add to you, so that I don’t use you up, and bottles of ink and pen nibs.
Ruth asked what she could buy for me — beautiful calico for a kerchief or candy. I shook my head, but she kept on, telling me she wanted to buy me something nice because I been such a big help to her. She offered me a beautiful lace handkerchief and a pretty little hand mirror. I wanted the paper and pen so much. I thought about how I wanted to be more like Ruth and Cook and speak up for myself.
I pointed to the stack of paper.
“What you want paper for?”
I was so rattled trying to tell my secret I stammered worse than ever.
Then Mister Joe spoke for me the way everyone always does. “I think daughter means she wants some paper for to write on when the school start.”
But Ruth just said I could get paper later on and bought me some lemon drops and material for a kerchief.
My heart and my head hold so many words and thoughts, but my mouth is like a jailer that won’t release them. Friend, I have to find a way to make Ruth and everyone else understand that I am not a dunce, though I felt like one today.
Sunday, June 11, 1865
Dear Friend,
At first the day began as a mighty disappointment because I could not go to the arbor. I had to help Nancy take care of the children. Nellie is growing teeth and frets all of the time. The Wild One has a fever. While Nancy was in the chamber putting cold compresses on his forehead, I took the baby into the library.
If anyone asked me why, I planned to say because it was cool in there and she was fretful everywhere else. I am still ashamed of myself for not speaking up yesterday at the store. I am free now. Why do I still keep this secret?
My heart danced when I found the Goody Two-Shoes book on the desk. I opened it, sat myself down on the floor, and rocked the cradle as I read.
Every time Nellie whimpered, I stuck my pinkie in her mouth so she’d have something to chew on. If Nancy saw me, I wasn’t going to hide what I was doing. And if Ma’am or Sir found me, I would say I was reading Nellie a story. Are you laughing, Friend? I am.
At least I was brave for a little while today, Friend.
Tomorrow, Ma’am and Nancy go before the magistrate.
Monday, June 12, 1865
Dear Friend,
Mister Joe was the coachman again today. He drove Nancy, Ma’am, and Sir to the magistrate this morning. I was hoping that Nancy would change her mind and go with her mother. How could she be so foolish and not accept her own mother?
It seemed as though many hours passed before I saw the carriage coming up the road. Nancy, dressed in one of Ma’am’s old frocks, had a big smile on her face. Ma’am was smiling, too. I knew then that Mary Ella, Nancy’s mother, was probably somewhere crying.
Mister Joe told Ruth the whole story. The magistrate wanted to know where Mary Ella lives and what she does for work. She is a nurse and a laundress and lives in a stick-and-mud house provided by the Yankee Army for the people who work for them. She told the magistrate that Nancy had lived with her until she was four years old, then Mistress Davis took her to live in The House even though Mary Ella begged her not to.
The magistrate said that because Mary Ella was the slave of Thomas Davis, Nancy belonged to him and his wife and they had the right to take her in those days. When the magistrate asked Nancy, “Is this woman your mother?” she just said she didn’t know and that she wanted to stay with her mistress. The magistrate declared Nancy a bound servant who has been treated well by the Davis family. She will remain in their care until she is eighteen years old.
Am I a bound servant until I am eighteen? I wonder. I suppose so. But if my mother or father appears at the gate, I will beg the magistrate to let me go.
Wednesday, June 14, 1865
Dear Friend,
Ruth went to the cabins again last night. She still doesn’t say why she’s going, and I’m afraid that the Union League she and Mister Joe talked about are making plans to leave Davis Hall.
It rained all day today. Ma’am scolded me for taking so long to iron. She says I should be able to wash and iron all in the same day. Ruth helped me as best she could, but she has so much of her own work. She is so nice to me. This morning as we cleaned Sir’s chamber, I tried again to tell her that I could read and write. But when I stuttered she just said, “Patsy, don’t upset yourself so.”
Friend, I lowered my head and kept sweeping so she couldn’t see the water welling up in my eyes. Why can’t I make her understand what I am saying? I will have to show her.
Saturday, June 17, 1865
Dear Friend,
The teacher must be coming soon. Ruth and I went to the quarters for a few hours and helped Violet and the other women finish cleaning the spinning house. The men made a long bench and Brother Solomon donated a small table for the teacher.
Douglass and another young man finished whitewashing the walls. Friend, if I could speak without sputtering I would have told him I prayed that his friend, Richard, is safe. I just smiled when he walked into the spinning house and said hello to everyone.
I felt good anyway, listening to the women gossip as I polished the bench and the teacher’s table with beeswax. Their stories were almost as good as Mister Joe’s. Violet knows everyone’s business in the quarters just like Ruth knows everyone’s business in The House. Some of the families are leaving for the sea islands tomorrow. They believe they will get land. “I think they foolish, myself,” Violet said. “Should wait till the end of the year. Land ain’t going nowhere.”
I was relieved when Ruth agreed. “No sense leaving with empty pockets,” she said. So Ruth will stay awhile, too.
As I sit in my chamber (storeroom) writing to you, Friend, I am thinking now that perhaps I will wait until the teacher comes and show her how well I can read, then she can tell Ruth. It will be so wonderful having lessons like Annie and Charles. And best of all I won’t have to sneak and hide.
I just had another thought, Friend. I hope Douglass and his mother and sister are not one of those families leaving.
Sunday, June 18, 1865
Dear Friend,
Today was wonderful! The first wonderful thing was, I scolded Nancy good. This morning she called me stupid. I told her she acted stupid when she treated her mother like an old head rag. I stammered it out good and clear.
Then I put on my cleaned and ironed homespun Sunday dress and wrapped my head in the new kerchief Ruth gave me and hurried to the arbor before Miss Sarah asked me to mind Nellie.
The next wonderful thing was Douglass is still here. But the most wonderful news, my Friend, is a teacher will come the beginning of July. Finally! Reverend McNeal told us this morning. He also said that the Freedmen’s Bureau will supply books, slates, and desks, and that the spinning house will do until we build a real school.
We are overjoyed. July cannot come fast enough.
Monday, June 19, 1865
Dear Friend,
Mister Joe stopped by the kitchen shed this morning after shaving Sir. He said that Brother Solomon is not telling Sir when people leave. The hands who remain will take their places. Though it means additional work, it means more money for them when they get their share of the crops. I pray that the families who left the coast get there safely.
Too tired to write much else. Today was wash day. I wonder how many stains Ma’am will find tomorrow.
Wednesday, June 21, 1865
Dear Friend,
Sir left for Charleston today. I’m sure he went to find the teacher for us, since there are already schools for black children there. I’m sure one of those teachers will be kind enough to come here and teach us.
Ruth went to the quarters again last night, and I stayed with Luke until she returned. It’s every Tuesday lately. Now that we almost have a school, I’m not so worried about her leaving. I don’t think anyone else is leaving for a while.
Thursday, June 22, 1865
Dear Friend,
My secret is out! This morning while Ma’am, Sarah, and Nancy were in the garden with the children, and Ruth and I cleaned the library, a feeling came over me that I could make her understand that I knew how to read. I took the Goody Two-Shoes book off the little partners desk and began to read aloud:
“‘Little Goody Two-Shoes, set forth at large for the benefit of those,
Who from a State of Rags and Care,
And having Shoes but half a pair;
Their Fortune and their Fame would fix,
And gallop in a Coach and Six.’”
“Patsy! You really reading? Oh lord, girl, you can actually read? And you ain’t stammering and stuttering?”
She hugged me so hard, I nearly lost my breath. Then she held me at arm’s length. “Now you ain’t playing with me, are you? You not just making believe?”
I shook my head. I told her how I’d learned. But I told her that I didn’t want anyone to know because it was against the law when I taught myself to read.
She said I could show Luke and some of the other children. I could show her. I couldn’t get a word in. I just kept saying, “But-but-but,” and Ruth kept chattering.
“Maybe you’re right, Patsy. Let Missus Davis keep thinking you ain’t got no sense, otherwise she’ll give you more work and you won’t have no time to teach me and Luke to read.”
I’m sorry, Friend, but I have to take a page from you so that I can write the alphabet for Luke and Ruth. We had our first lesson tonight. Ruth says she will buy paper, ink, and pen nibs on Saturday when she gets all of her wages. She says I’m like a little jewel that almost got lost under a pile of rags. Sometimes Ruth says very funny things.
Saturday, June 24, 1865
Dear Friend,
I am teaching Ruth and Luke one letter at a time as I saw the teacher do with Annie and Charles. I point to the letter and tell them its name and they repeat after me. Luke noticed that the letters don’t get stuck in my mouth the way words do. Ruth and I laughed. I also wrote their names for them: Ruth Johnson and Luke Johnson.
Ruth is like a madwoman. She rushed out of the kitchen this morning, and when she returned with Luke a few hours later, they had packages of paper, ink, pens, and nibs. I think Ruth spent all of her wages. Luke’s cheeks bulge with lemon drops.
Sunday, June 25, 1865
Dear Friend,
I have added pages to you with the paper Ruth gave me. I cut the paper in half so that the pages are exactly your size, and I’ve taken a piece of the string we use for candle wicks and tied the pages inside your back cover. I also found a piece of purple ribbon in the rag box to tie around the string. You look quite pretty, my Friend.
Reverend McNeal was not at the bush arbor this morning. He was preaching at one of the other farms. When it was time for people to give thanks and speak their minds, Ruth thanked God for the gift of a wonderful child. I thought that she was talking about Luke, but she pointed to me. “This girl can read and write as good as any teacher.” (How did Ruth know that? I wonder.)
I wanted to hide my face, Friend, when everyone gathered around me as if I was someone special. Violet’s eyes practically popped out of her head in surprise when she asked how I learned.
“Yes, tell us,” Douglass said, and smiled at me. My heart danced, and I looked pleadingly at Ruth. I wasn’t accustomed to people making a fuss over me. Ruth understood and explained for me.
Friend, I promise that I will try harder to speak for myself, but I was too excited and surprised to talk. Let me tell you a secret, though. I felt like a little queen this morning with everyone making a fuss over me — especially Douglass.
Monday, June 26, 1865
Dear Friend,
I am very much like Goody Two-Shoes. Now I will teach other children how to read, and some grown-ups, too.
Ruth has gone mad for reading. She practices the letters all day. If she sees a word on a box or a tin, she will ask me to read it for her and tell her the names of the letters. Old newspapers are saved from the fire now. Ruth has a growing stack of papers in her cottage.
As you know, Friend, today is wash day and I had so much work to do. With the baby, every day is wash day for her linen. Thank goodness the Wild One knows how to take himself to the chamber pot.
Luke was too sleepy tonight to look at letters. He fetched water all day for me, along with his other chores. Even Ruth was too worn out to memorize new letters tonight or have me read a little bit of the paper to her and Luke. I have moved back into their cottage. Ruth says that I can write and burn the candle all night if I wish to.
Friend, I am so happy these days. Ruth isn’t talking about leaving, and July is just next week. That means a teacher!
Tuesday, June 27, 1865
Dear Friend,
Ruth went to the cabins again tonight. I showed Luke some more letters. He learns very fast and knows from A to F. He and Ruth are also writing the letters as they say them, and they are practicing writing their names as well.
Sunday, July 2, 1865
Dear Friend,
Our worship was short this morning. Reverend McNeal spoke a few words and told us people from his church in Baltimore were collecting books to send to the plantation schools.
We sang a few songs and prayed before the men and women went back to the fields.
This is the busiest time of year, when the cotton plants have to be thinned so that they stand five feet apart. Mister Joe says that the hands have to struggle with the earth to bring in a good crop. The hands belong to the fields now and have little time for anything else.
Brother Solomon said that before Sir left for Charleston, he noticed that there seemed to be fewer people. But Brother Solomon told him that the fields were so fertile and large with plants, it just seemed that way.
Before they went back to work, Violet and several other women asked me to stay with the older children and show them their letters.
