THE BLACK BORDER
NOBLESSE OBLIGE
Joe Fields was the most onery looking darkey on Pon Pon. Squat, knock-kneed, lopsided, slew-footed, black as a crow, pop-eyed, with a few truculent looking yellow teeth set “slantindicularly” in a prognathous jaw, he was the embodiment of ramshackle inefficiency. Although he worked only now and then, thanks to the industry of a hard-working wife, he usually owned, encumbered by a chattel mortgage, a wretched half-starved horse upon which he rode to his occasional employments.
Joe, runt as he was, had two sources of pride—the aristocratic lineage of his “owners,” for he had belonged to the Heywards, and the achievement, on his own behalf, of the paternity of twins. Poor, patient Philippa, being only the mother, and a person of no family to speak of, having been the slave of a Charleston baker—whose fortunes rose during the war, though his Confederate yeast didn’t—Philippa, of the bourgeoisie, was not taken into account. “Dem two twin duh my’own,” and “Me nyuse to blonx to Mass Clinch,” were the Andante and Allegro of Joe’s prideful song. When some lusty young wench, during the customary “chaffing” of the plantation dinner hour, would ridicule his small size, Joe would swell with importance, grin like a ’possum, and overwhelm her with the retort: “Little axe cut down big tree! You see dem two twin, enty? Dem duhmy’own.” But the “two twins,” poor little dusky wights, were in evidence in the neighborhood and could be estimated at their truevalue and Joe’s paternal prowess appraised accordingly, but “Mass Clinch” lived away off “een Walterburruh” and, later, as governor, in Columbia, and his name, mouthed unctuously by his former slave, carried with it a weird, mystical importance, a portentous something that held his auditors with staring eyes and dropping jaws till Joe reached his climax, when the tension relaxed and they returned to earth.
Once started, Joe’s imagination fed upon his words as a dog upon his own fleas. One day when Philippa reprobated his want of industry, Joe, other negroes being present, began to brag: “Wunnuh haffuh wu’k ’cause wunnuh blan blonx to po’ buckruh. Yo’ maussuh’selfhaffuh wu’k! Enty I shum een town one time duh stan’ een ’e bake sto’ duh mek bread, en’ ’e kibbuh wid flour ’tell ’e baid stan’ sukkuh deseyuh cedar hedge duh wintuhtime w’en w’ite fros’ dey ’puntop’um?”
“Enty yo’ maussuh wu’k, Joe?”
“Who?My Maussuh?Mass Clinch?’Ooman, you mus’ be fool! Enty wunnuh know him duh quality? You ebbuh yeddy ’boutqualitywu’k? Wuffuh him haffuh wu’k? No, suh! Him hab him ob’shay, Mistuh Jokok, fuh wu’k.Mymaussuh tek ’e pledjuh. ’E ride hawss, ’e eat ricebu’d en’ summuh duck en’ t’ing’. Him hab t’irteen plantesshun ’puntop Cumbee Ribbuh. Him plant seb’n t’ous’n’ acre’ rice.”
“Seb’n t’ous’n’ acre’!”
“Yaas, enty uh tell wunnuh ’e plant nine t’ous’n’ acre’ rice? Wunnuh t’ink me duh lie, enty? Uh swaytogawd, w’en uh bin Cumbee one time uh count fo’ t’ous’n’ head uh nigguh’ duh hoe rice een de baa’nyaa’d fiel’. Nigguh’ stan’ een Mass Clinch’ fiel’ sukkuh crow’ duh mustuh! En’ him hab seb’n hund’ud mule’!”
“De mule’ wu’k ’pun Cumbee?” asked an iconoclast.
“Co’se de mule’ wu’k, en’ de nigguh’ wu’k, en’ Mistuh Jokok wu’k. Eb’rybody wu’k ’scusin’ my maussuh. Dem mule’ hab long tail’ dull summuhtime fuh switch fly, but w’en wintuhtime come en’ dem ’leb’n hund’ud mule’ tail’ roach, de pyo’ hair wuh shabe off’um mek one pile stan’ big mo’nuh rice rick!”
“Hukkuh yo’ maussuh plant all dat rice en’ t’ing’ ef ’e yent wu’k?”
“Enty I tell wunnuh him lib een Walterburruh? Duh summuhtime ’e does dribe duh plantesshun now en’ den fuh see how him crap stan’. Him dribe two hawss’, en’ de buckle on ’e haa’ness shine lukkuh gol’. One nigguh duh seddown behine ’e buggy wid alltwo ’e han’ fol’ befor’um lukkuh hog tie. Mass Clinch hab on one kid glub ’pun ’e han’ wuh come to ’e elbow. W’en ’e git Cumbee, ’e light out ’e buggy. T’ree nigguh’ run up fuh hol’ ’e hawss’ head. Mistuh Jokok mek’um uh low bow. Mass Clinch iz uh berry mannussubble juntlemun, alldo’ himizquality, en’ him ’spon’ to de bow. Den ’e biggin fuh walk. Him hab shishuh rich walk! Den ’e cock ’e hat one side ’e head. You nebbuh see nobody kin cock ’e hat stylish lukkuh Mass Clinch. Den ’e onbutt’n ’e weskit. ’E pit ’e lef’ han’ een ’e britchiz pocket, en’ swing ’e walkin’ stick een ’e right han’, en’ biggin fuh quizzit him ob’shay. By dis time ’e git ’puntop de baa’nyaa’d hill en’ look obuh ’e fiel’.
“‘Jokok’,” ’e say, “‘dat de stretch flow you got on my rice, enty?’”
“‘No, suh, dat de haa’bis’ flow.’”
“‘De debble’!” ’e say. “‘’E mus’ be mos’ time fuh ricebu’d!’”
“‘Yaas, suh. We gwine hab some fuh dinnuh’.”
“‘Wuh else you got fuh eat?’” Maussuh quizzit’um.
“‘We got one cootuh soup mek out’uh tarrypin’ wuh bin een one pen duh fatten ’pun gritch en’ t’ing,’ en’ one trout fish, en’ summuh duck’.”
“‘You hab enny mint?’”
“‘Yaas, suh, we hab ’nuf.’”
“‘Berry well, mek we a few julip’,” ’e say. “‘You got enny mo’ ’pawtun’ bidness dat ’quire my ’tenshun?’”
“‘Yaas, suh; snake hole en’ crawfish en’ t’ing’ spile one uh we bank, en’ de trunk blow out, en’ uh hab uh berry bad break, en’ Cumbee ribbuh comin’ een de fiel’. You wantuh shum, suh?’”
“‘No, I t’engk you’,” ’e say. “‘Leh de ribbuh tek ’e co’se. Leh we eat’.”
“W’en ’e gitt’ru ’e bittle, ’e hab ’e fo’ hawss’ hitch up, en’ Mistuh Jokok pit two-t’ree bag uh cootuh en’ ricebu’d en’ summuh duck een him cyaaridge, en’ ’e gonespangWalterburruh, same lukkuh bu’d fly! Da’ duhmymaussuh!”
By the time Joe concluded his story the noon hour was over, and the awed negroes rose silently to resume their work. One old mauma, turning to Joe as she knocked the ashes out of her clay pipe and carefully stuck it in the knotty wool behind her ear, said, “Joe, dat duh Gawd you binnuh talk ’bout, enty?”
“No, enty I tell wunnuh duh Mass Clinch Heywu’d! Him duh my maussuh, me duh him nigguh. Me ain’ haffuh wu’k, him ain’ haffuh wu’k. W’en wunnuh look ’puntop’uh she, wunnuh look ’puntop’uh me. Me en’ him alltwo stan’ same fashi’n.”
“I t’aw’t,” said the old woman, scornfully, “I t’aw’t ’e mus’ be de blessed Gawd you bin gib shishuh highpraise, but I always yeddy suh Him duh de ainjul’ maussuh, en’ I yeddy suh de ainjul’ w’ite en’ shiny lukkuh staar een de sky, butyou, nigguh!YOU blackez uhbuzzut!”