Yellow Wife(24)

We were crammed into the already overcrowded holding cell, forced against the sweaty flesh of unknown bodies. The door quickly locked behind us. There must have been hundreds of people already packed in the room when we were added. Heat and funk surrounded me. The combination of feces, blood, and vomit made breathing impossible. I could taste the rotten air settling in my throat. When I walked, my feet trod through a runny, sticky substance on the floor. How could Missus Delphina send me to hell? This place that was completely unfit for human habitation? My head started to spin and I felt myself descending. Before I reached the floor, Matilda grabbed my arm and held me up.

“You okay?”

I could hardly make out her face in the dark, so I rested my head on her breast.

“This be the jail. We stay in here till they get us ready for auction.”

“How do you know?”

“Been here ’fore I’s sold to my last massa.”

“Do they ever clean it?” I hacked.

Matilda patted me like Mama would have. “You get use’t it.”

But I knew I would not. I had entered the bowels of slavery. My stomach contracted again, and I dry heaved until the sensation passed. I was alone and scared; sweat dripped all over me. Once our eyes adjusted to the blackness, people started moving around, looking for lost relatives and friends, seeking news of their whereabouts. Then Matilda gave a shout and scuffled away from me. She threw her arms around a tall man with broad shoulders. They hugged, kissed, and hugged again. I stood watching until she looked my way.

“This be my husband,” she explained with tears in her eyes. “He sold ’way from me three years ago.”

“Sam.”

“Pheby Delores Brown.”

“Ain’t that a lotta names?” Matilda laughed, and even in the dark her true beauty shined through. Watching them together made me long for Essex. “Nice to meet you.”

I walked on to give them time. After what Matilda had gone through, she deserved this slice of happiness, if only for one night. I turned sideways, stepping over bodies and into piles of crap as I made my way back to the front of the room. Mama often said that her mind was most clear after she had a bit of rest. I covered my nose and mouth with my sleeve and leaned my head against the grimy wall.



* * *



I did not know that the sun had risen until the door creaked open. The men shielded their noses and mouths behind white cloths as they belted out orders.

“Girls, move out.”

Matilda found me. “We goin’ to the block now. Some ain’t so lucky. Runaways be sent here for the whippin’.”

A fresh terror came over me. I whispered that my missus had wanted me punished for raising a hand to her.

“Pretty gal like you worth more unharmed. Copy me and don’t worry none.”

I followed her into the light. The air blew a little fresher and I breathed deeply.

“Over here.” The men handled us roughly, the same way they would push and prod hogs. We were divided into packs of five and then led into the yard where there were four water pumps.

“Clean up well.”

Two of us used one pump at a time, and while I waited my turn I noticed that some had small bags with them. I only had my diary stowed in my secret pocket, along with the necklace Essex had given me. Nothing to change into. When I stepped up to the spigot, I could only splash my face and hands and dampen my hair in the few minutes allotted. Next, we were directed into a small back room where a few servants handed out tin pans containing cabbage, Indian peas, and cornbread. I felt so relieved to have real food that for a split second I forgot my circumstances.

“May I have a spoon?” I asked.

The woman standing before me was dressed well, with her hair pinned up in an elaborate bun. “A spoon? You ain’t in the big house no mo’.” Her eyes chastised me, and she clucked her tongue before moving on.

Embarrassed by my mistake, I buried my face in my food. Using my fingers, I dipped the cabbage and Indian peas between my teeth. The dish could have used a bit of salt but besides that, it was indeed the best meal I had had since leaving the plantation. Once everyone in my group had eaten, the same servants returned with things for our hair. Wire cards, like the ones we used on the plantation for wool, flax, and hemp. Some of the women tied red scarves on their heads. I combed my hair simply because it felt good to groom myself, and then twisted it away from my face. My dress contained stains from my journey, and my shoes were mucked in waste, but I did not plan to doll myself up to please anyone. If Parrott brought Master Jacob to Richmond by carriage, he would get here fast enough to stop all of this foolishness. I just prayed that his injuries would not delay him further. After my many days of torture, I was ready to return home, even if it meant dealing with Missus Delphina.

The men barked more orders, and we were led toward the back door to one of the smaller buildings on the lot. A red flag hung over the entranceway. I could smell smoking pipes and hear men talking loudly, laughing, from inside. I was with five other women including Matilda, and four men followed closely behind. One of the women clutched a young girl to her chest, her eyes blazing with worry. Must have been her daughter. I prayed these men would be kind and keep them together.

The room we entered was small and stuffy. White men sat in tight rows; some stood along the back wall. All were wearing the latest fashions akin to the pictures in Missus Delphina’s magazines: highly starched cravats, silk vests. Some wore frock coats, even though it was hot as the dickens. A wooden platform shaped like a block sat in the center of the room. We walked in a row and stood in front of it. The first man on line was ushered up on the block. A robust white man with ruddy cheeks stood at the podium, cleared his throat, and began to read.