Yellow Wife(23)

The boat sailed through the water, and the dipping over the waves made me nauseous. We were not offered any food or blankets. As the night grew long, the crew got louder from the upper deck. No doubt a bottle of spirits passed between them. I closed my eyes and tried to forget my suffering. I was unsure how much time had passed when I awakened to cold fingers on my knees, traveling higher up my thigh. My eyes flew open as the man with the hook nose climbed on top of me.

“Stop.” I crossed my ankles.

Not only did I want to protect my virtue, but my diary was hidden a few inches from his hands. I shook my leg so he would not detect it. Several teeth were missing from his mouth, and he reeked of tobacco. I scrambled to get out of his grasp, but there was no place to go. Not enough air to breathe.

“Stay still,” he mumbled and fumbled with his pants, “or I’ll make it hurt real bad.”

The people around me could not help me. Panic tightened in my chest. When he leaned over me, forcing my ankles apart, everything I had shot up from my belly. I threw up on him.

“Bitch.” He slapped me across the face. I called out to get the attention of the captain. He glanced down from the upper deck.

“Jack, leave the goods alone.”

“Come on, Captain.”

“Don’t want you messing with the money. Get back up here.”

Jack wore my waste on his shirt. He kicked my foot as he stood up, but to my relief, he followed orders. Matilda turned her matted head and linked her sad eyes with mine.

“Overseer put the baby in me.”

We comforted each other by letting our feet touch. The boat wafted along. A man in our row coughed and hacked all through the night, making sleep impossible. When morning came, Jack and another man passed out mush for breakfast. He handed me a bowl. When I looked down, my portion swam with phlegm. While the others ate, I closed my eyes and pretended to be in Aunt Hope’s kitchen. I must have fallen asleep again, because Matilda yanked at my rope and brought me to attention.

“What?”

She pointed with her chin. That’s when I saw it. The rise of tall buildings. The outline of a city the same way it looked in the newspaper. Beautiful, with the sun at its back and the sky pink and blue. It had to be Richmond. Our boat pulled along the river’s edge and the men dropped the anchor. A few canteens of water went around to revive us, and I drank heartily.

“They don’t like us parading the niggers ’round during the day. We will wait for nightfall!” the captain shouted to the crew.

Jack walked alongside me. “Got time to turn one of them loose for a little fun?” he shouted.

“Last time I turned one loose to you she lost her teeth. Cain’t afford to lose money on this deal.”

Once again, we were told to sit down on the grass. I still had the bug bites on my legs and arms from the last time. The water from the river was murky, but given the chance, I would still have bathed in it. We all sat quietly as the breeze whispered through the trees. I drummed my fingers on my thigh like I was playing the piano. It soothed me some. Then I hummed under my breath. At dusk, they passed around some cornbread and bacon. The small ration was not enough and I wished for more. When we finished eating, we were instructed to stand. Night had shaded the sky, and a handful of stars winked down at us.

“I don’t want to hear a sound from you. No talking, crying, singing. Now move along.”

The captain need not have admonished us; stories of hopelessness oozed from our sweat. I could see the despair of my fellow prisoners in the slump of their necks. We walked through the brush until I spotted a bridge up ahead. The post sign read MAYO BRIDGE. As we crossed it, the lights from the building in front of us twinkled like sparkly buttons. We marched past a big white building with pediments and columns. Then we were taken down streets with signs. I read CARY STREET. MAIN STREET. We made a right onto Franklin Street. I tried to record the direction in my head in case the opportunity came for me to run. Then our coffle turned into a smaller alley. It was chilly and stank of the most offensive odor I had encountered so far. Like the sweaty stench of death. The sign scripted on the wall read LAPIER’S ALLEY.

When I looked up, I saw a twelve-foot-high fence that was thickly set with iron spikes and stretched around the buildings. So this was the jail that Missus Delphina had sent me to. I had the keen sense to know that once I was inside it would be impossible for me to escape or even communicate with the outside world. I would be a prisoner. I tried to continue forward but stumbled over my misfortune. Before I could fall to my knees, I was yanked up by the rope connecting me to Matilda.





CHAPTER 11




The Lapier Jail

I took in every sight and sound as we were paraded through the courtyard. There were six wooden buildings on the small plot of land. Two of the structures were large, about two stories high. One looked to be the main house. The other four buildings appeared similar to those on the Bell plantation: the kitchen, laundry, office, and maybe a supply shed. I could hear dogs barking not far away. The stank I smelled in the alley intensified. Sickeningly pungent. A new crew of white men stood waiting for us. Five in total, clutching knives and rifles.

“Boys to the right. Girls to the left.”

The crew started unraveling the rope cords from our necks and cutting away at the ones binding our hands. The wounds on my wrists had crusted into scabs. Free for the first time in ten days, I stretched and arched like a newly awakened cat. Chains and metal padlocks clanked against the cobblestone as the men were unhooked from their restraints. Before any of us could enjoy this small sense of freedom, we were steered toward the center brick building. The wooden door was unlocked and the men shouted, “Move into the jail.”