Douglass’ Women (9 page)

“Our own.”

“Where I have an opportunity to help others by speaking out against the ills of slavery.”

“’Tis a blessing.”

“Yes.” He got up again, pacing, so much restless energy, I thought. Here be the man I first saw on the prow of the ship, the man looking beyond the horizon, seeing what I couldn’t. Well and good. Time for me to help him with what I knew. I’d not shame this man. I’d be stronger than I’d ever been.

“Freddy?”

“Frederick, please, Anna.”

“Fred—rick.” I tasted the sound. Then rose, wriggling my toes on the bare floor. “Let me have your clothes. I’ll fold them so they won’t need ironing tomorrow. I should draw water, too, for us to wash. Put away our clothes. Lay out our bedclothes. These my wifely duties. I should start as I mean to go on.”

I stood square with my hands firm on my hips.

Freddy’s head tilted, his eyes sparkled.

“I should start, too, as I mean to go on.”

He blew out the candles and put another log on the fire. “Domestic duties and wifely duties are not to be confused.”

If I was less dark, I would’ve been red. I touched my wedding band.

Freddy took off his shirt and his flesh glowed gold. He took my hands and sat us both down, side by side, on the bed.

“I’m glad to have met you, Anna.” Simple as that. Then, he kissed me sweeter, deeper than ever before. My arms reached round and tried to soothe what I couldn’t see, the crisscross scars on his back.

“I would’ve perished were it not for you.” His mouth moved down my cheek onto my neck and I felt such yearning, weeks, months, years of yearning banked down, sparking into flames. He undid my many buttons, his big hands so gentle, so quick. Then he stroked my breasts while still kissing me and leaning me deep, backwards onto the bed.

“Thank you, Anna.” He kissed me fierce. His hands touching, caressing everywhere. I trembled from the sheer joy of it, from having a lawful husband.

Before I knew it, we were both naked, hot, sweaty, moving our bodies into one. I let myself be shameless and rose up to meet him. I gave him joy as best I could. And when he began to make small moaning noises, when I could feel all the power of him finding a place inside of me, I cried out with him. Shameless, shameful Delilah. But if such pleasure-taking be sin, then God would just have to forgive me.

He talked almost all night. “Abolitionists are a new force.” “There will be a war.” “The righteous will prevail.” “Garrison has his own paper. Devoted to colored people’s liberation.”

“Mmm,” I murmured.

I got up from the bed, stepped into my dress, fallen on the floor, and he followed me, still talking, not caring he was bare. It be cold. I took secret delight ’cause I think maybe all this time, with these new people, these white people, he had nobody just to talk with—to sing out his ideas.

I thought, “It matter that I his woman.” I knew him in Baltimore when he slaved on the docks. Our history be deeper than these new acquaintances. Would always be deeper. I his wife.

I went to the kitchen and found a good stock of bread, butter, and apples. A side of smoked ham. Found even a flask of wine. I found two mugs, then a tray and carried the food and wine back to bed. Freddy would surely freeze if we sat at the kitchen table. I pretended that the bed was our shore and spread our food. In between his many words, I fed Freddy a slice of ham, a tuft of bread, a slice of apple. So many words. I watched him eat. Said, “Mmm,” when he paused and offered more wine and food. I got giddy seeing him so happy, so alive. My heart was full and my body, warmed from the wine, asked for more of him. I set the tray on the floor, slipped off my dress, and reached for him in the bed.

Later, when we were wrapped in each other’s arms, with only embers left in the fire and dawn sneaking in the window, I spoke, “Freddy—”

“Frederick.”

“I like Freddy better.”

“I’m a new man with a new name. If a wife accords a husband dignity, others will follow. You must understand that, Anna.”

“I do,” I say. “But when I touch you like this …” I touched him low, between his thighs, and watched his face change. “Freddy seems the name.”

“Anna, please. I must insist. It’s how cultured people speak. ‘Frederick’ is even lenient—most wives call their husbands Mister. Mister Ruggles. Mister Quincy.”

“These all white people you speaking about?”

“White people are our model. If colored people propose to advance, we must show all whites, we, too, are cultured, respectable.”

“Mam called Pa any name she wished.”

“So she should, if your father didn’t mind. But, I do mind, Anna.”

I didn’t want him to talk anymore. I didn’t want to argue. I touched between his thighs again.

“In private,” I whispered, kissing him. “In private, I must call you Freddy as I wish.”

I felt him tense despite my touch, my kiss.

“A mother-to-be should get some respect. Some wishes granted.”

That stopped him. He searched my face and, for the first time, I let him hear my laugh. We held fast. And soon it be my head pushing into the pillows and my Freddy, above me, eyes closed, face shining, moving like a man trying to find home inside my body’s horizon.

When the cock crowed, Freddy was asleep beside me both like a baby and a man satisfied with life. I told the sunrise, “Thank you. Jesus,” I say, “thank you.”

I hoped New Bedford had a sea. I could open the window to see if I smelled it. But I didn’t want to wake Frederick. My Freddy. There must be a shoreline with clams, starfish, and shells… . There must be a world outside
that be familiar to me. While the people be new, the town be new, water be as old and as ancient as ever.

I smiled at how far I’d come. Wife. Mother. Anna Douglass. I looked at my husband and thought:
Inside this house there will be much love
. I vow:
My body will never be closed to his
.

Two days we lived private. Much joy in our house. We found water—a colder, rougher Atlantic, with all manner of ships: whalers, fishing junkets, navy ships. The Bedford wharf was a busy place, not as big as Baltimore, but big enough for me to buy new cloth, pins, a candy stick. Freddy bought paper and a small slate to teach me words. He bought a Bible and inside it wrote our names on a family tree, etched in gold. He also bought some “fine vellum,” he called it, to write to Mam.

There were many, many colored folk. As we walked the wharf, most nodded at us or smiled. Several spoke with Frederick. Told him about work, all kinds: blacksmithing, welding, caulking. I was proud. Freddy could turn his mind to anything.

Freddy said I should turn my mind to caring for our children. He doesn’t want me working for anyone—colored or white. I told him I’d like that just fine. I’d sew, cook, garden, put up preserves, and clean our house so lovely, that everyone would know I be a happy wife.

Colored men said they’d send their wives. Right away. But, then, they say, “In a day or two,” when they discover we just married. Suited me fine. I didn’t want visitors. I wanted our house quiet, just filled with me, and Freddy and the baby-to-be.

The third day, the Preacher and his wife came. He be fine-boned and thin. She be a big woman—bigger than me. Preacher be quiet. Polite. She chattered and wore a hat with purple feathers which swayed every time she moved. Swayed as she bobbed her head, telling me gossip. She had stories about everyone in the congregation. I said little for I didn’t want her to gossip about me. Preacher just say, “Bless you. Bless this house.”

Freddy and I both laughed when they were gone. But after the Preacher’s visit, there be a flood of people coming to meet us. I was worn out, making seed cakes, serving tea. But I saw how everyone respected and admired Freddy. He’d be a big man among these people, I thought. He might rise to deacon in their church.

My thoughts about our world were too small. The next day a letter came. Freddy, face delighted, told me Garrison has asked him to speak before the Nantucket Anti-Slavery Society. Three days hence at 7:00 P.M. In Mercantile Hall.

“But you still a slave. Won’t slave-trackers be there, too?”

“It’s something I must do, Anna.”

“But the danger? We don’t need this house if it means you must speak and be in danger.”

“Anna, you don’t understand.”

“Quakers can take it back.”

“They will once I have means to support us. This house is but a way station for slaves with families. We’ll be journeying on, Anna.”

“And I’ll be ready. Long as you safe. Long as no man’s hunting my baby’s father.”

Freddy brushed aside his hair and sighed. His frustration reminded me he be much younger than me. I wanted to stay inside; he wanted to go out into the world.

“Anna, we can’t abandon those less fortunate. I did speak once in New York. It was dangerous, I know. Mr. Garrison convinced me to say a few words at a meeting.

“Anna, you’d be surprised at the people who’ve never heard a slave speak. Some thought slave hardships were fairy tales—”

“What?”

“Stories, lies made up by abolitionists. When they saw me, Anna, they began to believe a little. Believe that not all slaveholders were kindly and good-intentioned. I spoke no more than five minutes, but those five minutes, I felt, meant something. Did good.”

I was still frowning.

“Anna, please come here.” I walked to Freddy by the back window. “See,” he say, “you bought seeds to grow in that little plot of earth.”

The yard was a mess but there were old trestles, marking a square where once a thriving garden had been.

“You hope your seeds will take root and grow. So, too, my words.” He touched me beneath my chin, urging my head up, to face him, eye to eye. He knew I couldn’t help but give in. He be too handsome to refuse.

“Only a few words. Only this time. Then I’ll work ever so hard. We’ll be rich, for I needn’t give any money to Hugh Auld. We’ll make a home. I’ll even serve in the church.”

I smiled.

“You think I don’t know your dreams for me? I’ll be sober, somber, upright as a Preacher. A Christian man of good sense and learning.”

“Will we live here long enough to harvest my garden?”

“I can’t promise. But would it matter? You’ll plant your seeds anyway. Just as I must plant mine.”

That night Freddy asked me to make tea. At the kitchen table, he counted the money he had left from his escape, and he counted the last few coins I had: six dollars and eighty-two cents. Still a small fortune. A dollar a week be good pay.

“We’ll spend a dollar on a new dress and shoes for you, Anna.”

“Why?”

“You must look well for my speech. Properly clothed. People will want to meet you.”

I felt nervous. I didn’t want nobody looking at me.

“They’ll wish to know you, because you’re my wife.”

I looked hard at Freddy. “This one time?”

“Yes.”

I breathed deep. “Then give me twenty-five cents. I’ll buy shoes. The rest we’ll save for the future, our babies.”

“But, Anna, you must have a fine dress.”

“So I don’t shame you?” I asked softly.

He shook his head. “Anna, this is important to me.”

“It be important to me, too, Mister Douglass.” My voice edged high. “I’ll wear the dress I didn’t wear for my wedding. It be as fine as any dress any woman, white or colored, would wear.”

“I believe you, Anna.” He handed me a quarter and put the rest of the money inside a sock, which he hid in a drawer.

He kissed me and just as I moved my arms round his neck, he placed them down by my sides.

“Sleep, Mrs. Douglass. I’ll be up awhile. I’ll write a speech more eloquent than the broken words I gave in New York.”

In the morning, he was still writing. But, mainly, crossing out his lines for all I saw. A good two pennies’ worth of paper on the floor. He looked a mess. His shirt unbuttoned; his shoes off. His hair tangled from where his fingers pulled. His skin be nearly gray.

“Freddy,” I say.

He didn’t look up.

“Just speak from your heart. Speak your heart and everybody listen.”

I swore I would listen and obey him.
Love be true
.

Just speak from your heart,” I whispered when I saw Freddy take the stage. Mr. Garrison be speaking first. “Customary,” say Freddy. “It’s the custom for a white person ‘to vouch’ for the colored.”

To me, this made no sense. Why have a man say ahead of time that what the other man be going to say be truth? They think colored men lie?

It angered me and, I admit, my anger helped me feel less nervous.

The hall be huge. Almost like a warehouse. Filled with chattering, noisy people. Gentlemen argued about President Tyler, about the Negro character. Ladies talked about souls needing salvation, about the sins of slavery. Some women even be crying. Some men passed out copies of the
Liberator
. Others smoked cigars, slapping each others’ backs. Two men fell to fisticuffs and had to be pulled apart like dogs in the road.

A small crowd of free coloreds sat in the back, more quiet and proper than the whites. Freddy made me sit in the front. I didn’t like it. The gas lamps smelled awful and I was afraid the smoke would ruin my dress. I looked pretty but I felt sick. Me, never sick in Baltimore, never sick on the sea voyage here. But a month up north, and I’d been ill twice!

Abolition make passions run high. This crowd be rough. Not genteel like I expected.

I felt sweat on my lips. I looked at the plain-dressed men, thinking one must be a slave catcher. I wanted to shout, “Run, Freddy. Run far.” My mouth made no sound.

Mr. Garrison stood up. There was applause, men whistling, stomping their feet. There were boos too. Each boo came from a catcher ready to steal Freddy, take him south, way deep, beyond Maryland, where I’d never find him.

“Remarkable story, remarkable man.” Mister Garrison smiled like a proud papa. I wanted to tell him hush, to stop praising my Freddy. He pointed and Freddy stepped forward proudly.

Someone shouted, “Nigger. No better than a monkey.” Others must’ve lashed out, for I heard a shriek of pain. Freddy acted like he’d heard nothing. He stood at the podium, looking out at the hundred, no, hundreds of people come to hear him.