Drum (31 page)

"Yes." Although Alix resented the old woman's good humor, she felt encouraged by it.

"Bien! li kalle maifnon! Soon him sleep. When wake up, feel better. Mere Angelique fix 'im good." She laid the squawking rooster aside and rummaged in her basket, picking out a bvmch of leaves here, a few roots there, some more leaves which she considered carefully only to throw them back in the basket, then more leaves and some bark which she stripped from the withes, until she had a sizeable bundle in her lap. These she handed to Rachel with orders . to go into the kitchen and boil them. While Rachel was gone,,, Mere AngeUque managed to lower herself to the floor. A[ search in the pile of rags which covered her produced a longj rosary, crudely made of large black seeds, strung on di twine with a crucifix of white bone at the end. At each| bead she mumbled an unintelligible prayer:

Heru mande, heru mande, heru mande Tigi li papa Heru mande Tigi li papa Heru mande Do se dans godo Heru mande.

When she reached an occasional larger bead she lapsed] into a fairly intelUgible Gombo version of the Our Father, to which she aflBxed a long roster of saints' names. By the: time she had accomplished the long process, Rachel was back ( in the room with the steaming pot of herbs. Mere Angelique,'

shook the rosary over them, clicking the beads together, and then doused them in the steaming mess. She snatched the sheet that had covered Drum and tore a square from it. Dumping the pottage into it, she passed it gingerly back and forth from one hand to the other until it reached the right temperature, then placed it on Drum's leg. He winced from the heat but she held it in place until he became accustomed to it. Then her hands reached for the red cock, and she laid it on its back on the floor. Taking a long knife from her basket, she held it over the bird while she mimibled another series of unintelligible words. The rooster, evidently sensing that his last moment had arrived, emitted a forlorn crow which seemed to please the old hag, for she laughed again at what seemed to be a good omen. With one slash of the knife, she laid the fowl open, neatly cleaving it from neck to tail. Spreading open its severed body, she laid it over the steaming poultice, then tore the remainder of the sheet into strips and bandaged the whole agglomeration tightly to Drum's leg.

"Six days,"—she counted them off on her fingers—"six days no touch. Bile this." She handed a tied bundle of herbs to Rachel. "Make him drink it. Keep him shittin' all-a time. Make him drink lots water. Keep him pissin' all-a time." She pointed to the bulging bandage on Drum's leg. "Pretty soon big stink. Phew! but no take oflf. One day God de father, one day, Holy Virgin, one day Jesus Christ, three day, con-jur' spirits, much betta, goddam strong. Two dollar please."

Alix paid her and she gathered up her basket, tucked the rosary in her hidden pocket and signaled to Rachel to show her out. Rachel returned and the three women remaiqed with Drum—Alix on the chair, Rachel standing behind her and Calinda kneeUng on the floor beside the bed.

"You're going to be all right. Drum," Alix tried to encourage him.

"Pain's eased, madame." Drum attempted a weak smile.

"You needn't fight any more if you get well."

"Like to fight, madame." Drum's smile waxed a little stronger.

"As you wish." Alix silenced Calinda, who was about to protest, with a look that caused the girl to sink back on her knees.

Within an hour, beads of perspiration appeared on Drum's forehead and he slept. Throughout the long afternoon he continued to sleep and his breathing became slow and regu-

lar. Even the erection of the mosquito bcdre did not disturb his deep sleep and when the baire was in place, a fresh sheet found to cover him, the shutters closed to keep out the sun and the room straightened, Alix left, arguing with herself that the death of a slave, outside of the monetary loss it would cause her, made very little difference, yet knowing in her heart that it did. For the first time, she felt that Drum was hers—^her son. Yes, her son and Tamboura's. I

Later that evening, when Dr. Roberts dropped in for his usual round of drinks—inferior now that Drum was not mixing them—he went across to the courtyard to see the sick man. He foimd him sleeping comfortably, with Calinda beside him on the floor, still plying the fan. He felt of Drum's forehead, then pulled down the sheet to see the misshapen bulge of the poultice on Drum's leg.

"Mere Angelique?" he asked of Calinda.

She bowed her head.

"Then leave it on." He bit his underlip. "A dead rooster^ I suppose, and some of her herbs. It's worked before and there's no denying he's more comfortable. Yale could dc worse than to send down for the old woman and let hei teach a class. Beats me how she does it, but at times I thin! the old hag knows more than I do." He drew the sheet bad up and left the room.

Drum slept throughout the night and intermittentl; throughout the next day except when Calinda woke him U pour the bitter brew from Mere Angelique's steeped herb< down his throat. His face lost the dry, ashen, lifeless lool and some of the sheen reappeared on his skin. Calinda neve left him and Alix wisely did not insist on her doing thi work around the house, quite content to let her devote he time to Drum. As each day passed, Mere Angelique^ prophecy that the poultice would stink became overpowei ingly apparent. By the third day, its odor was so bad tha even Calinda was nauseated and Rachel could scarcely ente the room. Its stench floated out the window and settle in the courtyard and by the fifth day it had permeated th front of the house. But each day Dnmi improved and on th sixth day he was propped up in bed and heartily enjoy© his food, quite oblivious of the horrible smell.

That same afternoon Mere Angelique arrived again, too a long satisfied look at her patient, and then, with the sam knife that had split the cock, she proceeded to cut off th putrid poultice attached to Drum's leg. It came off In a mas

of crawling maggots, but after Mere Angelique had washed the leg with warm water, there was nothing but a clean, nearly healed wound in the midst of an expanse of pale, lavender-colored flesh. She clucked happily and applied another clean bandage.

"Mainfnon, you be usin' that thing agin." She pointed to Drum's naked body and giggled. "If n pore old Mere Angelique once again young, she no charge yo' nuttin'. She take her money a-lettin' you pester her. Hiy, yi," she turned to Calinda, "you's lucky, gal. Goddam few women so lucky as yo'. Enjoy it, gal, enjoy it long's you kin. But don' tucker him out now. Don' heat 'im up. Whure'all I gits me my money? Whure's de madam what keeps dis who'house. She owin' me two dollars more." She turned to leave, only to meet Dr. Roberts and Dominique You coming into the room.

"Here's your two dollars. Mere Angelique." Dominique You reached into his pocket and took out two silver dollars.

"And here's two more." Dr. Roberts handed her another pair. "But I'll give you five if you'll tell me what leaves and herbs you used to cure Drum."

The old woman looked at him suspiciously. She had no intention of disclosing her secrets but she had no desire to incur the white man's enmity.

"La, m'sieur, old Mere Angelique pas connai. Jes' don' know. Fust I tells de prayer and den after de prayer, de spirits tells me what to use. Each time diflf'rent. No can tell yo'. Be much obliged ifn I could 'cause sure would like them five dollars but jes' cain't remember."

She left and Dr. Roberts and Dominique You came over to stand by Drum's bed.

"How you feeling. Drum?" Roberts asked. "Let me look at your leg." He studied the healing wound carefully. "Looks good to me, how does it feel?"

"Feels good now that that stinking mess's oflf," Drum laughed. "I feel good too. Feel so good that tonight Calinda is going to sleep alongside me instead of on the floor. About time, hein?" He looked up at Calinda who hung her head, embarrassed by the white man.

"Alix tells me you want to keep on fighting, Drum," Dominique You said.

"Oh no!" Calinda finally found words.

"Shut your mouth, gal. K I want to fight, I'll fight."

"You like fightin'. Drum?"

I

"Sure do, Doctor, sir. Like to push my fist into another man's guts and feel him crumble up."

"All right then, fight, you stubborn bastard." You cuffed him gently, "But if you're going to fight, you're going to learn how to do it. A good fighter's like a good swordsman. He's got to know. Look at Bernard de Marigny! The best man with a rapier in the city but he practices at it. Spends a couple of hours a day with Bastille Croquere. That's what makes him good."

"Fighting with your fists is different from fighting with a sword." Drum's conceit would not admit that there was anything about fighting he didn't already know.

"No!" You bellowed. "It's just the same and, dammit, you're going to learn to fight. There's a man down on the: levee, an Englishman, used to be a champion in London and he knows as much about fist fighting as Croquere does about dueling. Just as soon as you're up and about, we're going to see him. No more fights for a couple of months anyway—not until you learn something—and then, we'll make you a champion, maybe send you to England like they did Tom Molyneux. Til foot the bill for the lessons and Alix will damned well give you the time off. Agreed?"

"If you say so, m'sieur."

"I do say so." You turned to Roberts. "Doctor, when will this buck be up and rarin' to go?"

Dr. Roberts looked down at Drum and winked.

"Looks as though he's up and rarin' to go now."

"Sure am. Doctor," Dnmi winked back. |

"I'd say in about another week. He's got to exercise thai leg some before he can start. Have the woman massage il and as soon as he can, have him walk on it. Soon as he gets the stiffness out of it, he'll be as good as ever, thanks to old Mother Angelique."

"I'll be back in a week," Dominique promised, "and now we'll leave you."

Drum waited for the diminishing sound of their footsteps on the stairs. He turned and pushed the piled-up pillows ontc the floor and threw the sheet back.

"Calinda." His voice was thick with impatience and d©-: sire. "Get out of that dress and come over here. There's just one thing I need now to make me feel like a man again

"I know. Drum." Calinda closed the door with one hand and stripped the dress over her head with the othen

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She looked at the bright body lying on the bed and as always, when she looked at it she marveled at it. "And I'll feel like a woman again." One step took her to the bed and to the arms that were waiting for her.

chapter vi

Drum had always loved the levee, but since coming to Mad-ame's Academy of Music he had had few opportunities to go there and enjoy the excitement. Now once again, seated up beside the coachman, with Dominique You behind on the velvet cushions of his open barouche, he thrilled to the life of the levee.

Vessels of all rigs, shapes and sizes were tied up, sometimes three deep, along the big crescent curve the Mississippi i made around the city. There were ocean-going ships, sails i furled and their gangplanks spewing forth sailors of a dozen i different nationalities to add to the turbulence of the levee. Further up the river, bordering on the American town, huddled a conglomeration of flatboats, keelboats and smaller river craft, with here and there a floating store, presided over by some tobacco-chewing Kaintuck. Over all hovered an aroma of raw hides, salted meats, rum, tar and coffee, all intermingled with the damp smell of river mud. Dark-skinned Cubans jostled brisk Yankees from New Hampshire; red-faced Englishmen spouted cockney phrases to uncomprehending Portuguese bravas; Carolinians talked of horses, Kentuckians of liquor, Georgians of women; and supercilious Creoles regarded them all with disdainful curiosity. Throughout the long day and far into the night,] burly Negro stevedores scurried back and forth unloading and loading ships to the never-ending din of hawkers, blind fiddlers, beggars, pickaninnies jigging for pennies, flower sellers, importiming drabs and enormous Negro women who waddled by, steaming coffee pots on their i heads, ready to pour a cup for a penny.

Grogshops did a thriving business, with here and there a tin-roofed shanty where a man shucked oysters, offering them with a peppery sauce which scalded the tongue but gave a delicious flavor. Further back were lines of miserable cribs where two-bit prostitutes did a thriving business, sometimes:

unable to get off their backs for hours at a time when the lines of sailors who had made this their first destination on quitting ship grew block-long.

Dominique You's carriage moved slowly through the confusion of traffic, halting frequently for the passing of huge drays or of another shiny Creole carriage. Drum, high up on the box, dressed in his plain white cotton shirt and pantaloons, had a vantage point to view the life that ebbed and flowed around him. With diflBculty the coachman squeezed the horses through the crowd and over the canal which separated the Vieux Carre from the American part of the city. Turning at the levee, they proceeded a short way up Gravier Street where, at Dominique's order, they paused before a narrow frame house a block up from the levee, which displayed a small, crudely lettered sign: genteel accommodations FOR ENGLISH SEAMEN ONLY.

Drum held the reins while the coachman jumped down and knocked on the door, which opened immediately to frame an immense white man, somewhat stooped now, but still a commanding figure in height and breadth. His battered face looked Uke a mass of putty which some amateur sculptor had tried to fashion into a human likeness but had given up soon after starting. The broken nose, the single eye, the scarred cheeks and the swollen ears were crowned by a shock of graying ginger hair that had the appearance of a much-used doormat carelessly thrown on a bald skull. The man looked beyond the slave on the doorstep and, under a sheltering hand, focused his one pale-blue eye on the carriage.

"Mister You!" He motioned to Dominique to come in. "A pleasure, Mister You! A pleasure and a great honor."

"Hop down, Drum." Dominique climbed out of the carriage and went up the steps of the house, extending his hand to the man in the door. "How are you. Sailor Jem?"