Hang a Thousand Trees with Ribbons by Ann Rinaldi

Author:Ann Rinaldi [Rinaldi, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Chapter Twenty-two

DECEMBER 1767

My poem about Messrs. Hussey and Coffin was published that December, right before Christmas, in the Newport Mercury. Unbenownst to me, Mrs. Wheatley worked her magic and it was accepted.

On the morning the paper arrived in the post, they were all waiting for me at the breakfast table, smiling. When I entered the room they stood and applauded. Then from behind me I felt the others come in, Aunt Cumsee, Prince, even a scowling Sulie.

"What is it?" I felt myself blushing. "What's happened?"

Mrs. Wheatley came forward and embraced me. "Nothing has happened, Phillis, except perhaps the greatest moment of your life. Your poem has been published. Look." She held the paper up in front of me.

My eyes scanned the words. My words. "Oh," I said again and burst into tears. So taken was I with the sheer joy of the moment that I could not face any of them. I hid my face against Mrs. Wheatley's snow white shawl collar.

The breakfast was festive, with fresh fish, sugared ham, Bohea tea, and lemon cake made with fresh lemons that had just arrived on the Wheatleys' ship yesterday. Mr. Wheatley and Nathaniel raised their mugs of rum in a toast. Twice there came a knocking on the front door and Prince brought in written congratulations, delivered by messenger, from the Wheatleys' friends.

My head was spinning. I coughed. My head felt feverish.

"There will be no calls today," Mrs. Wheatley announced. "You shall sit by the fire and read and be spoiled."

"More than she is already?" Nathaniel asked good-naturedly. But before he left for his countinghouse he leaned over me and planted a cool kiss on my forehead. "Congratulations, Phillis. You have made Mother very happy."

The kiss was cool, impersonal, such as I'd seen Mary give her pet cat. Still, I luxuriated in it And I felt its imprint on my forehead all morning.

But there was a price to pay. Even for that one poem.

I had the copy of the Newport Mercury in my hand. The house was quiet, except for sounds of pots and pans from the kitchen. It was the first opportunity I'd had to really study my words in the newspaper.

And then I saw the announcement that prefaced the poem.

Please to insert the following Lines, composed by a Negro Girl (belonging to one Mr. Wheatley of Boston) on the following Occasion, viz. Messrs. Hussey and Coffin, as undermentioned, belonging to Nantucket, being bound from thence to Boston, narrowly escaped being cast away on Cape Cod, in one of the late Storms; upon their Arrival, being at Mr. Wheatley's, and while at Dinner, told of their narrow Escape, this Negro Girl at the same Time 'tending Table, heard the Relation, from which she composed the following Verses.

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