Chapter 2 – Alejandro
The next day, the green fields again shone in the bright sun as Colonel Williams rode home from an errand in town. It was close to five in the afternoon. He sung softly to himself as he approached the fields of the slaves, remembering the songs that he had heard them sing on the many occasions. Today, though, there was no singing as he neared the fields. All he heard was shouting. Loud pleadings of mercy interwove with cruel shouts of anger and the intermittent crack of a whip.
As the fields came into view, Williams saw the reason for the turmoil. A new slave, small in stature and dark tan as one from the Caribbean, cowered on the ground. Towering over him was the overseer, enraged and off his horse. The whip in the overseer’s hands rose and fell on the slave’s back again.
“Up, you lazy good-for-nothing,” the foreman shouted at the slave. “You’re far behind the others in weeding your row, and you’re going to get me whipped if you don’t get your lazy butt in gear.”
The slave looked up at the foreman in bewilderment. It was clear to everyone but the foreman that he had no clue what the foreman was saying. Tears filled the slave’s eyes, and the distant look in his eyes told of a pain far greater than that of a few whip blows. Though he knew it would not work, he addressed the foreman once more in Spanish, “No entiendo, Señor. No hablo inglés.”
The foreign language further incensed the irate foreman. “Shut your mouth or speak in English, foreigner,” he screamed. He proceeded to curse the slave with various slurs as he raised his whip to deliver another blow.
The blow never fell. Colonel Williams’ strong hand grabbed the foreman’s arm just before it began its downward swing. The two men strained against each other, the foreman determined to finish his interrupted stroke. Being so focused on the recalcitrant slave, he had not noticed the arrival of Williams.
“Enough! Enough, Fulton,” Williams said, grunting with the strain of restraining the other man’s arm. “It’s perfectly clear this poor man has no idea what he’s done wrong or why he’s being beaten.”
Chad Fulton, the foreman, swore. “And it’s perfectly clear that you’re meddling in business that has nothing to do with you, Colonel Williams. This servant hasn’t been doing his job, and it’s my job to make sure he does it. So, let me finish my job and get the rest of my crew back to work.” He fully expected to be able to overcome the older Williams, and the Colonel’s strength surprised him.
“I’m not going to let you beat him, Fulton,” Williams replied, sweat on his forehead and a glint in his eyes. “And I’m going to stand here as long as I need to in order to keep you from beating him more.”
“This isn’t your business, Colonel,” Fulton repeated. “Mister Andrews isn’t going to take kindly to your meddling in his affairs.”
“Let’s deal with Andrews in a minute, Fulton. For now, you’re done. Let me talk to the man and at least try to explain the situation. If you don’t make your quota, I’ll intervene with your master so that you don’t get beaten.”
The promise of protection seemed to satisfy Fulton a little. He stopped straining and dropped the whip to his side.
“Now, what’s going on here?” Williams demanded.
A slave spoke up, “Well, Colonel, this new guy was brought in here today…”
Fulton interrupted, “Silence, sla…servant!” With his whip, he lashed the shoulder of the slave who had spoken. “Let that teach you to speak out of turn!
“What’s going on here, Colonel, is that Mister Andrews purchased this man’s services yesterday in town, fair and square. The man cried all night and has only gotten half a day’s work done in near a day’s time. I’m just trying to discipline the laziness out of him.”
Williams stared at the foreman in amazement at the man’s cruelty. “Did it ever occur to you, Fulton, that this man hasn’t understood a thing you said and that he’s mourning for a good reason? Did it ever occur to you to find out what’s bothering him?”
“I don’t rightly care, Colonel,” Fulton replied, spitting some tobacco juice on the ground to accentuate his indifference. “My only concern is getting these fields tended the way Mister Andrews wishes. And I don’t care for any of that ‘I don’t understand’ nonsense. He understands this well enough.” He patted his whip.
“Let me talk to him a minute, Fulton. I know some Spanish from my years in the military.”
“All right, Colonel. If you can speak his nonsense language, go for it. I’m not going to make my quota as it is, but you’d better hold to your promise to speak up for me to Mister Andrews.” He turned to the rest of the slaves who were standing around in fear. “Everybody else back to your quarters. You’ll be fed at the usual time.”
The slaves wandered away, except for the man on the ground, whom Fulton dragged to his feet and held him back. “This here man wants to talk to you, ‘Al-le-hand-row’, so listen up good, ‘k?”
The bewildered expression of the man still indicated that he had clue what was going on, but he also knew better than to resist the force of the foreman.
Williams looked at the man with pity. “Who are you?” he asked the slave as best he could in Spanish. “Why are you here?”
“Señor,” the slave replied in Spanish, “thank you for keeping this man from beating me any more. I’m Alejandro, and I came from Cuba two weeks ago with my wife and daughter. Upon arriving here, the man who transported us suddenly tripled his fare. Unable to pay, we were forced to sell ourselves into slavery to try to pay off the debt. The man who ran the market assured me that he would keep our entire family together, but when our turn came, I was bought by one man and my family another. Now, I’m trapped here, separated from them, and I’m probably never going to see them again!” He began to cry again.
“Don’t worry,” Williams reassured him. “I know the man who bought you. I can buy your freedom, and then I’ll help you search for your family.”
“Oh, Señor, gracias, gracias,” Alejandro replied. “This is more than I could have hoped for. If you can do this, I will become your slave.”
“I don’t want a slave, Alejandro,” Williams said, “I want to help you.”
He turned to Fulton. “Quiero hablar…err…I mean, I want to speak to Mister Andrews as soon as possible, Fulton. And I want Alejandro to come with us.”
“All right, Colonel. You can come back with me, but Alejandro’s going to have to wait outside. We don’t allow field workers to come into the house.”
No comments:
Post a Comment