Authors: Alex Haley
depends on what his father does."
Queen did not, could not, understand the complexity of the relationships in
which she was entangled; she knew only blind fury and cold hate. She
screamed and ran to Mrs. Benson, to fight with her to get the key, to get
out, to do anything, but Mrs. Benson was ready for her and struck her hard
across the face, and then again, and Queen fell to the floor, moaning.
The guards waiting in simple ambush in the trees near the shack thought they
were ready, but they had the disadvantage of fear. Although there was no
official membership of the Klan in Beaufort, they all knew what it meant,
and knew the cause had many sympathizers. It was as'well they did not know
that Mr. Benson had enlisted some of those sympathizers since he had been in
Beaufort, and given them purpose, direction, and
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collective strength through unity, for if they had known, their fear would
have been magnified. Or perhaps it didn't matter what they knew, for the
robed men came bursting out of the trees, on horseback, carrying brands,
and several had military training. It was a short, sharp battle that the
guards lost because they did not believe they could win. Two died
instantly, one was fatally wounded, and two ran away into the night.
Davis fired from the hut, but he was not a trained shot, and the men on
horseback kept beyond his range as they rode in circles around his
fortress, calling on him to come out. Davis roared at them to rot in
hell, but one night rider who seemed to be the leader shouted out to him.
"Come on out, nigger," he shouted. "We have your boy."
Davis looked at his gun, which was useless to him now. He peered out of
the window and saw that the leader had spoken the truth. A brand
illuminated one of the riders who was holding Abner.
Davis was scared, but not to die, he almost welcomed that. He had courted
death too often to be afraid of it, and it had become his ultimate
friend. He was scared for his son, whom he hardly knew.
"Come on out, or the boy bums first," the leader shouted again.
Davis thought that if his life had any purpose or meaning, it was now.
If he could do anything to save his son, it was worth any sacrifice, for
he believed what he had told Queen. The boy was the future. Davis had
lived in negativity all his life, and his life was meaningless to him.
Then a simple woman had loved him without limitation, and had bome his
child, and he had found a purpose at last. Not to be father to the boy,
but to try to create a better world for that boy to live in.
And he had succeeded. The work he had done had helped build the
foundations of something that he knew he would not see complete in his
lifetime, no matter how long he lived. But he had seen a wrong and tried
to right it, and, like the everwidening, rippling circles from a pebble
thrown into a pond, the righting of that wrong would continue, for
endless generations, for the righting of wrongs was an endless task. He
had achieved what he had set out to do, for the world that his son
QUEEN 713
would inherit would be better, if only by an infinitesimal degree, than
the world that Davis had been born into, and that, no matter how small,
was much. He knew the boy's mother would communicate to him what his
father had done, and the boy would be proud, and hold his head high, and
know that his father had helped to change the world.
Suddenly, the immensity of human existence and experience astonished him.
His ancestors had been brought unwillingly from Africa, and kept, like
the Israelites in Egypt, in bondage. But, like the children of Israel,
they had survived their ordeal and been freed from their chains. Faith
and hope had sustained them, and they had taken their first few footsteps
in a vast and uncharted territory that beggared the imagination, for it
was without border or boundary. As long as the human race existed, the
greed of some would battle the charity of others. In his life, he had
seen a great wrong righted, because some good men, white men, he realized
with a wry smile, had sought to redress what other white men had
instituted. He had taken advantage of the freedom that they brought to
him, and carried on the fight, because he had hope for the future. Queen
had given him that, and faith that he could make some change, no matter
how tiny. In God's eye he must be smaller than any ant, but he had
contributed to the hill.
Queen had been right all the time. Hate was meaningless, negative. Love
was the sublime driving force, for what was love but faith and trust in
another person, and hope for the future. And the greatest gifts a father
could give his son were faith and hope and love.
The boy must live.
They threw a rope over a branch on a tree, and put the noose at the end
of the rope around Davis's neck. They kicked the horse he sat on, and he
felt a sharp and sudden pain and a choking in his throat, and he jerked
and jolted at the end of the rope, by instinctive reaction, because his
body fought to breathe. His eyes grew dim, but his mind and his heart did
not fight against the coming of the dark angel, but welcomed it, because
suddenly he saw a great, golden light and as it flooded over him it
revealed, for a moment, the most beautiful land he had ever seen, a land
of untold promise as viewed from the highest mountain, and he knew he had
found home at last.
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They doused his body with paraffin and set brands to it, and as the flames
engulfed him, the man who was the leader held Abner up to see the burning
body.
"Watch him bum, boy, and remember! " the leader said. "Watch your pappy
bum."
Queen had crawled into a comer, into a fetal ball. She was clutching
herself, moaning to herself, but her mind was numb, and she did not hear the
explanation that Mrs. Benson gave her.
"it is for William, you see, and all the little white children of America.
It is our sacred, bounden duty to ensure that they inherit a world of peace
and order. A clean and pure America, unsullied by animal blood. It is God's
law."
She was hugging William to her, caressing him with maternal love, oblivious
of the maternal pain she had caused to another human being, for she did not
believe that being was human. The creature had been useful, her milk
nourished William, and thankfully milk was not blood. She could still be
useful in the glory days to come when the true kingdom of God was
established in this bounteous land, for she had been sent by Providence to
aid their night's work. But she thought a visit to the doctor was in order
for Queen, to make sure she bred no more bastards.
There was a tap on the door. Queen cried out and scrabbled into the comer
in fear. Mrs. Benson went to the door and unlocked it, and Mr. Benson came
in. He nodded at his wife.
"Now God be praised, who has brought us to this hour," she prayed. Oh, but
she longed to be part of it, to be present at the killing, for she knew the
effect it had on her husband, and, vicariously, on her. Mr. Benson grabbed
her and kissed her lustily. Then he saw Queen.
"Get her out," he said huskily.
"My baby, where's my baby," Queen moaned. Mr. Benson came to her, dragged
her to her feet, and pushed her out of the room.
"He's with his father," he said, to be rid of her. He slammed the door, and
turned to his wife, his sexual energy charged to fever pitch by murder.
QUEEN 715
Queen did not take a horse, because she had no mind to think of
practicality, and did not want to arrive at where she had to go. She did
not dare imagine what she would find when she got to the shack, but she
had to go there, because that was where they were. Moaning and crying,
clutching at her dress, grabbing at her hair, she staggered through the
night, oblivious to all around her, flames of torment filling her mind,
holding on by a slim, silken thread to sanity, which thread might break
at any moment.
It was dawn when she got there, and mist lazed across the river and the
land.
She saw the charred body of Davis swinging gently from the tree when she
was still some distance away, but she didn't cry out, for it was what she
had been expecting. Moaning still, she stumbled toward him, and then she
saw Abner lying motionless on the ground beneath his father.
She screamed to heaven then, and fell to the ground, at her lowest ebb
of self. Grief flowed upon grief, and still more grief, and pain, and
fury at the unfairness of life so prematurely taken.
"What have we ever done to them, Lord?" she cried. "Why do they hate us
so much?"
She swooned, in abject wretchedness.
And God, as if ashamed of what He had wrought, relented.
A gentle rain started to fall.
It woke Abner up, and he began to cry.
PART FOUR
A WIFE AND
MOTHER, LOVED
Beyond the years the soul shall find That endless peace fbi- which it
pined, For light appears, And to the eyes that still were blind With
blood and tears Their sight shall come all unconfined Beyond the
years.
-PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR
84
Rain drizzled down on the mighty Tennessee River at Savannah. Alec Haley
steered his ferry, a small, flat-bottomed steamboat, from the northern
shore to the south. It was late afternoon, a busy time of day, with people
anxious to get to their homes. His passengers had their coats pulled up
over their heads as shelter from the rain, or old newspaper or blankets
to protect their hats. It had been raining for days, and there was
very,little conversation among the passengers; the weather had dampened
their spirits.
As Alec guided the ferry to the small jetty, new passengers were
sheltering under trees, waiting to make the journey north.
Alec tied a line to the wharf and the passengers disembarked, calling
thanks or farewell to him, and made their way up the muddy track, which
led past the Cherry mansion on the hill and on into town. The new
passengers dashed from the shelter of the trees and took their places on
the boat. They greeted Alec as cheerfully as the depressing weather would
allow and Alec took their fares, exchanged greetings, and looked around
for any latecomers. It was then that he saw the woman.
She was tiny and light-skinned, with a darker child on her hip, wrapped
in a thin blanket. She was poorly dressed, her coat was wom and sodden
by the rain, and she had cardboard tucked into her shoes. She stood under
the trees, apparently oblivious to the weather, and stared at nothing,
as if she were lost. Alec was puzzled. He assumed she wanted to cross the
river-there was no other reason for her to be waiting therebut she made
no move toward him.
"Comm' on?" he called.
It broke the woman's reverie. She looked at him as if she did not know
where she was, and was surprised to see him.
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720 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
She walked slowly to the jetty, then stopped again, uncertain of
something. Some few of the passengers on the boat were already grumbling
at the delay she was causing, but Alec guessed the reason.
"It's a nickel," he said.
The woman opened her small, tattered purse and counted out a few pennies,
obviously down on her luck. Alec watched, intrigued by her light skin and
her darker child.
"Where you headin'?" he asked her.
She looked at him with vacant eyes.
"North," she said. She gave him the money, climbed onto the boat, and
settled on a bench. She pulled the blanket closer around the boy, her
coat tighter about herself, and waited with patience for the journey to
begin. She had nothing else to do.
" C'mon, Alec! " a passenger shouted. " I's gettin' soaked. "
Alec grunted and cast off the line. "Make y'hair grow," he said to the
complainant, Fred, who was bald. He started the engine, and the ferry
chugged north.
The weather didn't bother Alec. He loved his ferry, and, together with the
twenty acres of farmland he owned, it gave him a good living. He was
settled and secure, his own man, and owed nothing to anyone, except a
sense of gratitude to Massa Cherry, who was not, and never had been, his
Massa.
Following the common custom among slaves, Alec had taken the name Haley
from his true Massa, although his real father's name was Baugh. William
Baugh was an overseer on the Haley plantation in Marion County, Alabama,