Andrea Levy by The Long Song

Author:The Long Song
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fiction - General, Jamaica, English Contemporary Fiction - Individual Authors, Jamaica - History - 19th century, Slavery, Fiction, Literary, Historical, General, 19th century, History
ISBN: 9780374192174
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Published: 2010-09-15T21:24:18+00:00

And that is exactly what Caroline did. ‘Close it up. Close it up,’ she commanded the overseer, ‘and hope the magistrate never heard tell of it.’ She made Henry Reed not only empty its chambers of all the captives but also, at July’s suggestion, fire the dungeon to smoke out its callousness. Henry Reed may soon have left her employ bewailing that he now had no inducement that could extract more effort from the idle, the indolent, and the not working well, but that dread dungeon was no more.

And so puffed did our missus become after that splendid resolution that she proclaimed that, from that day onward, her house-maid July (or Marguerite as she still insisted upon calling her), should serve her also in the administering of the plantation. For when her brother was alive, was it not July who stood at Caroline Mortimer’s side to sift the skulkers from the sick upon Monday mornings? ‘No. Him jus’ have sore head from too much rum,’ July would tell her or, ‘That black tongue not be sickness, it can be wipe off,’ or, ‘Caution, missus—yaws!’ If July could assist her then, when she was no more than a child, what better help could she be now? There was the register of slaves to be taken, compensation to be claimed, always overseers and bookkeepers to be found . . .

‘Me can’t, missus,’ July told her.

‘Nonsense. I say you will, then you will,’ the missus twittered. ‘We will bring the negroes in a line and they will tell their name and you will put it in the ledger. I will need it for inspection for the compensation.’

‘But me can’t, missus,’ July repeated, ‘Me can neither read, nor write.’

Her missus was nearly felled by the force of that sudden understanding.

‘Oh, Marguerite,’ she said with exasperation, ‘why ever not!?’

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