Second Daughter Read online

  “He was sold to a trader. For days he slept in an open shed where each morning he and others were placed on the block for sale. In the afternoons he lay under the bright sun, his eyes always on the sea eastward, his thoughts of home as he regained his strength eating papaya, oranges, and mangoes, and drinking the cool milk of the coconut. In the light of day he lived wondering what would happen to him in this new land; at night in his dreams he was always back in Africa.

  “When he was not readily sold, the slave merchant used him to translate the languages of the slaves to determine from where the slaves had come. There in Barbados he saw many Africans, but only a few who spoke his language. And when he heard his language, his heart leaped in his chest, but afraid that he would never hear it again, he stayed a distance from the one who spoke it until they could disguise their kinship.

  “He grew into young manhood. Not very tall, he had smooth black skin like polished ebony and his hair was tightly curled to his head. When Cornelis Hogeboom purchased him, he also bought ten other slaves. Our mother was one of those ten.”

  “Fatou, tell me now. What was she like?” I pleaded.

  “Baaba says when he first saw her, he knew she was different from other women. Beautiful, bold and shy at the same time. She was tall, the color of chocolate, and she wore her long hair in one large braid with a thin strip of cloth tied at the end. When he asked her name, he was surprised at her almost defiant answer, ‘The name is Ayisha.’ She spoke in Fulfulde, confirming his belief that she was a Fulani. He, of the Mande group, had long associated with the Fulani, so he spoke her language, too.”

  So that’s who Fatou looks like, I thought, and I remembered her dancing at the first Christmas party and at her wedding. I look more like our father.

  “The journey ended in Claverack, the wilderness that was called New Amsterdam. Baaba at first thought he would have to work for Hogeboom only for a while, show his abilities, and soon be able to do things for himself, get married and become part of the people, the way slaves were treated in Africa. He wanted to own a small plot of land. But after ten years he saw that he was not ever going to become part of the life of Claverack. He became moody, didn’t do his work. Once he ran away and stayed in the woods for two whole weeks. He had no place to go, so one day he came back to the farm, dirty, hungry, and very tired. The master, thinking that Baaba had escaped or died, was so glad to have his property back that he did not punish Baaba.

  “Soon after that the master gave Yaaye to Baaba in marriage. Over time they had seven children, including five sons. Again, Baaba thought surely his children would be given a chance to grow to be part of the people of the town, but no. No people from Africa, even those who were not bonded or bought, were treated with respect. He knew then that he was in a strange land that did not know him, would never know him, because he was not wanted to be known.

  “With the slaves increasing on the farm, our brothers were sold for money, and the highest prices were paid by southern plantation owners. Baaba showed his rage. That was when he was beaten to death. Yaaye gave up. Lost in her memories and grief, she died. We were sold to Master John and Mistress Anna, so we belong to them.”

  I lay in the dark thinking about Baaba and Yaaye and the words that I hardly understood: free, equal, and independent. But deep down inside of me I knew. I belonged to nobody—no master and no king.

  12

  The roads passing through our town were now widened and in fair condition, so many people came through. Some stayed, and the population of Sheffield increased.

  Bett remained a loyal slave, but she also continued her duties as a wife, midwife, and healer. Any money she earned for her outside work went to the master. When paid with old clothes, chickens, a goat, or a sheep, those she was allowed to keep.

  As time went by, I learned to adjust to Bett’s being away much of her free time. She stayed on the plot of land she and Josiah owned, on which they kept the animals and planted a garden. Sometimes, late on long summer days, Bett and I would go to her small house. There were only two rooms—one where people gathered and a tiny room where she and Josiah slept. The kitchen was separate from the house, with a stone oven and an open fire over which cooking pots were hung.

  I loved being with them and often went to help them after Bett and I had worked all day at the master’s. Working in Bett’s garden didn’t seem like work at all. As we planted and weeded, we laughed and sang, Josiah’s voice ringing clear and beautiful. And when we weren’t singing, Bett talked about what was going on upstairs. She told Josiah of the talk about separation from England.

  He was interested and excited and wanted to hear all about it. “Are they saying why they want this separation?”

  “Every one of them there is rich, and they’re riled up about a lot of things.”

  “Who are some of them?” Josiah asked.

  “Deacon Smith, Captain Fellows, Dr. Barnard, and Dr. Kellog, and recently, a lawyer named Sedgwick.”

  “They’re the rich rich,” Josiah said, and we laughed. “I would guess that most of them don’t want out from under the king.”

  “I’m not sure about that. Some are determined to take themselves from under him,” Bett said.

  “I think most are not,” Josiah said. “They may be angry all right, but what will they do about farmers who rent from them? If they don’t want to pay taxes to the king, farmers will not want to pay taxes to them.”

  To my surprise, Josiah spoke as if he knew what was going on.

  Bett said, “That’s what Deacon Smith brought up. Farmers will think they should have as much as the rich men have and will cause trouble. But Master Ashley said they shouldn’t worry about poor farmers, but about New Yorkers who want to claim the Massachusetts territory.”

  “Did the others agree?” Josiah asked.

  “Lawyer Sedgwick said, ‘Yes, men without property have no say in what will happen. What we say in this room refers to those of us who own the land, not to those who are renters and laborers. We must rid ourselves of the king and the Dutch who want to claim that New York’s eastern line is the Connecticut River.’”

  “I’ll bet Master Ashley didn’t go along with all of that,” Josiah said.

  “He agreed that although the New York Dutch were the first to find the Connecticut River and trade with the Indians, that gave them no claim to Massachusetts. But he didn’t agree about the king.”

  “I knew it. He’s a staunch Tory,” Josiah said.

  “What’s a Tory?” I asked.

  “I didn’t think you were listening, Aissa,” Josiah said affectionately. “That’s a person who is loyal to Britain and wants no part of independence.”

  Bett went on as though we had not interrupted. “Oh, there was a lot of loud talk then. The men taking sides. Master Ashley reminded them that if they refused to pay taxes, things could get worse. That they would be no match for the king’s soldiers. He said, ‘Do you want war?’ Deacon Smith and Dr. Barnard agreed with Master Ashley.”

  “What about the others?” Josiah asked.

  “They were with Master Sedgwick. And by the time he finished using those words freedom and liberty, everyone agreed that they should send the king’s men packing. Master Ashley kept quiet. And the writing went on.”

  I listened to them talk while we planted pumpkins, potatoes, all kinds of squash, spinach, and a small plot of wheat. When the moon was full, we often talked and worked until it was time for us to walk back to the master’s house.

  Then I noticed that Bett was sleeping more than usual. She was often sick in the mornings, was short-tempered, and didn’t want to get out of bed. I was worried. One morning, I was so alarmed I ran for Nance. “Come, come, I think Bett is poisoned.”

  Nance rushed to our room without getting dressed. “Whut you been eatin’?” Nance wanted to know.

  Bett laughed. “My poison will be over in nine months. Rejoice, I am going to have a baby.”

  Bett’s sickness did not last long and soon sh
e was growing round, her stomach like a calabash. She went about her duties pleased and happy with herself. Josiah appeared pleased, but also very concerned. One night I heard him talking to Bett.

  “We were not wise in conceiving this child. Because you are a slave, he, too, will be a slave.”

  “How do you know it’s a he?” Bett said, trying to lighten the conversation.

  “Please, this is serious.”

  “Who knows how serious more than I? I’m the slave. But I want a child. I have hope that slavery will end and she will be free.”

  “Don’t say ‘she.’ We will have a son. I will work hard and buy his freedom. You will see. There is no law that says a free man cannot buy his child.”

  Not long after that, Agrippa came to town and Josiah invited African men, free and slave, to his house to greet him and hear what he had to say. Agrippa had heard about Colonials wanting to petition the king for independence, but not about the petition being written upstairs in the Ashley house. Josiah called Bett into the room and asked her to tell what she had discussed with him.

  Bett, heavy with her unborn, was shy and reluctant. I knew her shyness was not due to her pregnancy alone. “She’s not going to talk,” I said. “She believes that, among men, women should be seen and not heard.”

  They all looked at me as if in disbelief. Agrippa said, “Bett is a good example of an African woman who knows her role as wife and mother. You would do well to watch your sister and become like her.”

  There were those words again. I was determined not to be like Bett. “Maybe. But Bett is the only one who knows anything, and if she doesn’t talk, then you’ll know nothing.”

  They all looked at Josiah as if to ask, You have a woman in your house who is as disrespectful as that? Josiah surprised me. He seemed disappointed with Bett, not me; and I think he was a little ashamed that a woman who knew so much was made unwilling to share. He urged his wife to speak, and she became the center of attention when she told about the writing of the document and the plan for freedom and self-rule in the petition to the king. She repeated those words that headed the document: “We in a state of nature are equal, free and independent of each other, and have a right to the enjoyment of life, liberty, and property.”

  There was much excitement and the men there asked many questions. “Wuz us Af’icans spoke of at all in dis talk ’bout freedom?” Zach wanted to know.

  “When will the county hear about this?” Brom asked.

  Bett didn’t know when, and she answered, “We were never mentioned at all, and what mention they made of the farmers and poor was that they were to be under the rule of the rich, as the rich were under the king.”

  “They speak of life, liberty, and property. Those of us who are not free are ‘property,’” Agrippa said. “Men like your boss, Josiah, and mine are not interested in ridding themselves of their ‘property.’”

  “They are only interested in getting more. But we must keep our eyes open. Bett will be our ears and when the time comes we will be there to speak our minds, too.” Josiah spoke calmly.

  After that meeting, for a while Josiah was not as warm toward me. Was there something wrong? If so, why didn’t he say so? Then finally he said, “Aissa, I wish when you are in the discussions of men, you would hold your tongue. We have a saying: The hen knows it is morning, but she watches the mouth of the cock.”

  “She waits for the cock to crow, right?”

  “As she should.”

  “But why?”

  “It is an African custom and our customs keep our people safe.”

  “But Josiah, we are here and women work just as hard, side by side with the men. And we are treated just as harshly. So why can’t we speak for freedom, too?”

  There was silence between us. In his calm manner, he finally said, “Because we are here under these unusual conditions, it is all the more important that our customs survive. And I hope you will remember that.”

  I didn’t agree, but I said nothing, knowing that whenever I had the opportunity to speak out for my freedom, I would speak.

  13

  On December 1, 1772, Bett, with Nance and with my help, delivered a fine baby girl. I had thought Josiah would not be happy with a girl. But he was very pleased. Proudly he held his baby and, showing her to the north, south, east, and west corners of the earth, he said, “I name you Ayisha for your grandmother, Omosupe [oh-MOH-soo-peh] because a child is the most precious thing, and Freeman because your father is a free man.”

  When the master registered the child as his slave, Bett said, “Her name is the same as mine: Bett.” The master was pleased.

  With Bett being so busy, Little Bett became as much my baby as hers. I tied her on my back and felt her warmth and her little heartbeat, and for the first time I loved, expecting nothing in return.

  In January of 1773, there was much coming and going in the Ashley house. The plan that my sister had talked about became the Sheffield Declaration. It was now ready. Josiah called his friends and others together and Bett reported, “Master Ashley and his friends are planning a town meeting for all the citizens to hear what they have decided to send to the king’s representative. The master still seems uncertain about separating from the king, but certain that he wants the Bay Colony of Massachusetts to draw the borderline between them and New York.”

  “That John Ashley is a Tory, isn’t he?” Agrippa said. “One of a few around here who fully supports the king. He must know that a lot of people don’t care for him because of that.”

  “Things are changing and he is beginning to see he has to be either for this colony or for the king. I think he is for this colony,” Josiah said.

  “It doesn’t matter who they’re for, I want to know who’s for us?” Brom said. “We have a right to freedom and liberty just as much as they have.”

  “Agrippa, as free men we should go and see what this is all about,” Josiah said.

  “Why don’t you take ‘resolves’ like theirs and present them?” Bett asked.

  “To the king’s representative?” Agrippa asked.

  “No, to Master Ashley and the men who wrote their declaration,” Bett said. “Add your words to theirs.”

  “Bett is right. We must be ready with just what we want to say,” Josiah said.

  All that Saturday night and the next day, they worked on the paper, Bett remembering much of what had been said in the room upstairs. Agrippa did the writing. I was so proud of all of them—the men and Bett working together. My hopes of freedom filled me with joy. I looked at Little Bett, finally walking on her own. I lifted her up, hugged her close, and whispered into her ear, “Mijn schatje [my honey], we’ll be free, free, free!”

  On January 12, cold winds were blowing and the icy rain was in heavy clouds just waiting to drench those many white men and few free blacks who had come from around the county to accept or reject the Sheffield Declaration. Bett was as nervous and as anxious as any of the men who had done the writing. I knew if she had been a man she would have been there at the Sheffield town hall, but no woman, slave or free, was allowed to attend.

  Around noon rain was still falling and the cold winds were even more cold. Finally, after waiting for the master a long time, lunch was served, and I was busy finishing the cleaning. As if she had suddenly gotten the idea, the mistress said, “Lizzie, I want you to go to that meeting place and take your master some food and hot rum.”

  In that icy rain, I thought. Hot rum would be cold by the time I arrived. My body tightened with anger, but I said nothing as I wrapped myself in an old shawl that would do little to protect me from the rain. Nance wrapped the food and drink in thick layers of cloth, tied to give me a handle.

  Along the muddy road, horses still hitched to wagons stood heads down, their bodies giving off steam. I hurried, the icy rain stinging my face, numbing my hands. When I came to the hall, just beyond the tailor shop, I went toward the front, but the crowd there was so thick I was afraid that I would not be able to enter. At
the back the crowd was just as thick. Knowing that I had to find the master, I forced my way inside. The heat, the stench of damp bodies, and the fog of tobacco smoke gave me a fit of coughing.

  Moving beyond elbows and rough coats, I soon found the master up front seated on a small platform with about six other men, all of whom I had seen in the house. I recognized Lawyer Sedgwick, a broad-shouldered man with a big body and large head, who was reading aloud from a paper. A white scarf around his neck accented the pink face that stood out even more because his hair was thinning. His voice was deep and loud enough to be heard throughout the hall.

  On seeing me, the master frowned. When I held up the bundle, he smiled and waved me forward. “The mistress sent this,” I said. He opened the bundle right away and drank from the jar of rum, which was still warm. I sat in back of the platform listening while I waited for the master to finish. When Lawyer Sedgwick completed the page, someone in the back shouted, “Lawyer Sedgwick, I didn’t understand all that you read. Please read it again.”

  “Yes! Yes!” came shouts from around the room.

  One of the men on the platform stood. “We must get on with this business.”

  Lawyer Sedgwick said, “I will read it only once more. There must be order if you are to hear.”

  The hall became quieter as he read. “Resolved that Mankind in a state of nature are equal, free and independent of each other and have a right to the undisturbed enjoyment of their lives, their liberty and property.”

  I am in this meeting, the only woman. I am here! I thought. I became so excited but also afraid that they would notice and ask me to leave. I pulled the shawl around me and tried to pretend that I was not at all interested in what was being said.

  “Resolved that the great end of political society is to secure in a more effectual manner those rights and privileges wherewith God and nature have made us free.” He read on, a lot of things I did not understand nor have any interest in. The master placed the plate and the jar on the floor and covered them over, but he gave no sign that I should leave.