Part 12

“Gawd is de one made ’em long. April ain’ had nothin’ to do wid dat. Gawd made you’ own not so short, Sherry. Don’ fo’git dat.”

Sherry said no more and Uncle Bill worked faster with his paddling.

The afternoon sun was a great red ball floating among thin smoky clouds. A light haze was creeping out from underneath the trees on the banks of the creeks. The shrill call of a cicada rose, swelled into quick breathless notes, faded away, then was taken up, answered by a mate. Yellow sunshine fell between lacy blue shadows cast by cypress trees. Dark green thickets crouched wet-footed, beside narrow winding paths of tide water.

The marshes were buried. All the sticky miry mud exposed by the morning was hidden. Through old flood-gates the rising water gurgled and bubbled into forsaken rice-fields. Grass, vines, trees, bushes rank, thorny and fetid, crowded and trampled one another, trying to gain a deeper, stronger foothold down in the broken dikes. Breeze gazed around him with long looks. As far as his eyes could see the earth was flooded. Wasted. Unsown. Abandoned.

Uncle Bill sighed. It made him sad to think how the tide had destroyed the work of years. At first it crept timidly in, hardly enough for its shallow trickling to show. But it grew bolder and stronger as it took back the rich land, acre by acre, until it owned them all. All!

The first white men who came here found the whole face of the earth covered with a thick forest growth of cypress and gum and ash, matted, tangled with powerful vines, and held by the tides that rose and fell as they do now, twice every day. Those men bought slaves, Breeze’s and Sherry’s and his own great-grandfathers and mothers, African people fresh from the Guinea Coast. The slaves diked and banked up the land so the forest growth could be removed, then they canaled and ditched and banked it into smaller well-drained tracts which were planted with rice. And rice made the plantation owners rich.

For years the lands were held by children and grandchildren of those first settlers, but nearly every old plantation home has been burned or sold or abandoned. The rich rice-fields are deserted. The old dikes and flood-gates that stood as guardians are broken and rotted. The tide rolls over all as it did before the land was ever cleared. It has taken back its own.

A whistle not far away gave a shrill ugly shriek. “Lawd, de boat is lated to-day! Wha’ time it is, Uncle Bill?”

Uncle cast a quick glance up at the sun. “A li’l’ after four, son.”

Sherry considered. “De boat ain’ but two hours lated. Pretty good, for dat old slow coach, enty?”

“Kin you tell de time, Breeze?”

“I kin tell if it ain’ cloudy, neither rainin’, in de daytime.”

Sherry said there were many other ways to tell; the tide runs true, rain or shine, morning-glories and lots of other flowers open and close by the time. Big Sue’s yard was full of four-o’clocks. They’d be wide open now. Birds change their songs with the turn of the afternoon. “Listen! You can hear a red-bird whistlin’ right now. Dis morning he went so----” Sherry pursed his lips and mimicked a bar of bird song.

“Now e says to dis----” And he whistled a few notes that the bird himself echoed. “Dat bird knows it’s past four. A red-bird knows de time every bit as good as Uncle. Grass blades moves wid de day too. Dey leans dis way an’ dat to get de light. A lot o’ t’ings is got mo’ sense dan people, enty, Uncle?”

“Sho’!” Uncle Bill declared. “If you watch t’ings close, you’ll git wise. Wise! Take Uncle Isaac; e can’ read readin’ or either writin’ but he knows more’n any school-teacher or either preacher dat ever came to Blue Brook.”

“Wha’ de name o’ de church Uncle Isaac b’longs to?”

Uncle Bill smiled gently. “Po’ Uncle! E j’ined de white folks ch’uch yonder at de gate, long time ago. Dat’s named ’Piscopalian. Den e went to town on de boat an’ seen a white folks’ chu’ch named de Presbeteerin. Uncle mixed de two togedder. E calls hese’f a ’Piscoteerin’. Po’ Uncle! If e don’ mind, e’s gwine die in sin yet. You boys mustn’ wait too long to pray. Pray soon. Git religion young. It’s a heap easier den. I waited so long I mighty nigh missed gittin’ it myse’f. But I ruther have religion dan to have all Uncle Isaac’s knowledge. E kin put a ‘hand’ on anybody long as dey’s in dis world. E kin take a ‘spell’ off anybody long as dey’s dis side o’ de grave. But dat ain’ so much after all. Dis life is short. It’s de other side o’ Jordan we got to fix for. Dem sweet fields in Eden, yonder in Canaan’s land. Dat’s de country I’m aimin’ to reach. You boys must try to reach em too.”

“Uncle, you believe any white folks is in Heaben?”

“Gawd knows, son. White folks is mighty smart people. Dey knows a lot o’ tricks we don’ know.”

XIII

THE QUILTING

Before day was clean Big Sue got up out of bed and went to the front door to look at the weather. The cool air was soft and still, trees and birds were asleep. The earth itself was resting quietly, for the sun tarried late in his bed. The stars had not yet faded from the clear open sky, but Big Sue was full of excitement. Only a few hours more and she must have everything ready at Maum Hannah’s for the quilting to commence.

Her own big room was almost large enough for a quilting, but it was better to go to Maum Hannah’s. The meeting benches could be brought in from under the house where they stayed, to make seats enough for the company, and Maum Hannah’s quilting poles stood always in the corner waiting for work to do. Plenty of pots sat on her hearth and two big ones out in the yard besides. Most of the plantation quiltings were held at Maum Hannah’s house, the same as the night prayer-meetings.

The raw rations were all ready to cook. Plenty of rice and cornmeal. White flour and coffee and sugar from the store. She’d pot-roast the ducks, and fry the fish, and make the turtle into a stew. She’d roast the potatoes in the ashes. The corn-pone would bake brown and nice in the big oven on the hearth. With some nice fat white-flour biscuit to eat last with the coffee, she would have enough to fill everybody full.

Breeze must get up and hustle! She called him and he tried to raise up his drowsy head, but sleep had it too heavy for his strength to lift. If she’d only let him take one more little nap! But she shook him soundly by the shoulder. To-day was the day for the quilting. He must get up and dress, and get some fat kindling wood to start a fire under both the big pots in Maum Hannah’s yard. He’d have to fetch water for those pots too, and tote all the quilts there, and the sack of newly ginned cotton April had given her for lining the quilts, besides all the rations that had to be cooked for the quilters to eat at dinner-time.

With a sleepy groan Breeze rose and pulled on his shirt and breeches, then his sluggish feet shambled toward the water-shelf where the tin washbasin sat beside the water-bucket. Big Sue made him wash his face, no matter how soon or cold the morning was. He might as well do it, and get it over with.

As he reached a heavy hand up for the gourd that hung on a nail beside the water-bucket, his arm lengthened into a lazy stretch, the other arm joined in, and his mouth opened into a wide yawn. Then his fingers dropped wearily on to his head where they began a slow tired scratching.

Big Sue stopped short in her tracks, and the sparkle in her beady black eyes cut him clear through to the quick.

“Looka here, boy! Is you paralyze’? I ain’ got time to stop an’ lick you, now. But if you don’ stir you’ stumps, you’ hide won’ hold out to-night when I git back home. Dat strap yonder is eetchin’ to git on you’ rind right now! Or would you ruther chaw a pod o’ red pepper?”

The long thin strip of leather, hanging limp and black against the whitewashed wall not far from the mantel-shelf, looked dumb and harmless enough, but Breeze gave a shiver and jumped wide awake as his eyes followed Big Sue’s fat forefinger. That strap could whistle and hiss through the air like a blacksnake when Big Sue laid its licks home. Its stinging lash could bite deep into tender naked meat. But the string of red pepper pods hanging outside by the front door were pure fire.

He wanted to cry but fear crushed back the misery that seized him, and gulping down a sob he hurried about his tasks. First he hastily swallowed a bite of breakfast, then he took a big armful of folded quilt tops, and holding them tight hurried to Maum Hannah’s house with them.

The sun was up, and the morning tide rolled high and shiny in the river. The air was cool, and the wind murmuring on the tree-tops strewed the path with falling leaves. Some of them whirled over as they left the swaying boughs, then lay still wherever they touched the ground, while others flew sidewise, and skipped nimbly over the ground on their stiff brown points.

The sunlight smelled warm, but the day’s breath was flavored with things nipped by the frost. The sweet potato leaves were black, the squash vines full of slimy green rags. The light frost on the cabin steps sparkled with tinted radiance as the cool wind, that had all the leaves trembling in a shiver, began to blow a bit warmer and melt it back into dew.

This was the second frost of the fall. One more would bring rain. The day knew it, for in spite of the sun’s brave shining, the shadows fell heavy and green under the trees. Those cast by the old cedar stretched across the yard’s white sand much blacker and more doleful than the sun-spotted shade cast by the live-oaks.

Maum Hannah’s house was very old, and its foundations had weakened, so the solid weight of its short square body leaned to one side. The ridge-pole was warped, the mossy roof sagged down in the middle, and feathery clumps of fern throve along the frazzled edge of the rotted eaves.

Two big black iron washpots in Maum Hannah’s yard sat close enough to the house to be handy, but far enough away to kill any spark that might fly from their fires toward the house, trying to set fire to the old shack, tottering with age and all but ready to fall.

Inside Maum Hannah, dressed up in her Sunday clothes, with a fresh white headkerchief binding her head, a wide white apron almost hiding the long full skirt of her black and white checked homespun dress, awaited the guests. She was bending over the fire whose reddish light glowed on her cheerful smile, making it brighter than ever.

“Come in, son. You’s a early bird dis mawnin’. You’s a strong bird too, to tote sich a heavy load. Put de quilts on de bed in de shed-room, den come eat some breakfast wid me. I can’ enjoy eatin’ by myse’f, and Emma went last night to Zeda’s house, so e wouldn’t be in my way to-day.”

The bacon broiling on a bed of live coals, and fresh peeled sweet potatoes just drawn out from the ashes where they had roasted, made a temptation that caused Breeze’s mouth to water. But he hesitated. Cousin Big Sue was waiting for him, and he knew better than to cross her this morning.

“If you can’ set down, take a tater in you’ hand an’ eat em long de way home. A tater’s good for you. It’ll stick to you’ ribs.”

Breeze took the hot bit from her hand and started to hurry away, but she stopped him, “No, son! Don’ grab victuals an’ run! Put you’ hands in front o’ you, so. Pull you’ foot an’ bow, an’ say ‘T’ank Gawd!’ Dat’s de way. You must do so ev’y day if you want Jedus to bless you. All you got comes from Gawd. You mustn’ forgit to tell Him you’s t’ankful.”

Most of the cabin doors were closed, but the smoke curling up out of every chimney circled in wreaths overhead. Little clouds of mist floated low over the marsh, where the marsh-hens kept up a noisy cackling. Roosters crowed late. Ant-hills were piled high over the ground. All sure signs of rain, even though no clouds showed in the pale blue sky.

As soon as Breeze’s work was done, Big Sue had promised he could go to Zeda’s house or to April’s, and spend the rest of the day playing with their children, and now there were only a few more lightwood splinters to split. The prospect of such fun ahead must have made him reckless, or else the ax, newly sharpened on the big round grind-stone, had got mean and tricky. Anyway, as Breeze brought it down hard and heavy on the last fat chunk to be split, its keen edge glanced to one side and with as straight an aim as if it had two good eyes, jumped between two of his toes. How it stung! The blood poured out. But Breeze’s chief thought was of how Big Sue would scold him. Hopping on a heel across the yard to the door-step he called pitifully for Maum Hannah.

“Great Gawd!” she yelled out when she saw the bloody tracks on the white sand. “What is you done, Breeze? Don’ come in dis house an’ track up dis floor! Wha’ dat ail you’ foot?”

She made him lie flat on the ground and hold his foot up high, then taking a healing leaf from a low bush, growing right beside her door, she pressed it over the cut and held it until it stuck, then tied it in place. That was all he needed, but he’d have to keep still to-day. Maybe two or three days.

By ten o’clock Big Sue was outside the yard where Zeda stirred the boiling washpots. Onion-flavored eel-stew scented the air. The stout meeting benches had been brought in from under the house, two for each quilt. The quilting poles leaned in a corner waiting to be used. The older, more settled women came first. Each with her needle, ready to sew. The younger ones straggled in later, with babies, or tiny children, who kept their hands busy. They were all kin, and when they first assembled the room rang with, “How you do, cousin?” “Howdy, Auntie!” “How is you, sister?”

Leah, April’s wife, had on somewhat finer clothes than the other women. The bottom of her white apron was edged with a band of wide lace, and she wore a velvet hat with a feather in it over her plaid headkerchief. But something ailed her speech. The words broke off in her mouth. Her well-greased face looked troubled. Her round eyes sad.

“How you do, daughter?” Maum Hannah asked her kindly. “You look so nice to-day. You got such a pretty hat on! Lawd! Is dem teeth you got in you’ mouth? April ought to be proud o’ you.”

But instead of smiling Leah’s face looked ready to cry. “I ain’ well, Auntie. My head feels too full all de time. Dese teeth is got me fretted half to death. Dey’s got my gums all sore, an’ dey rattles when I tries to walk like dey is gwine to jump down my throat. I can’ eat wid ’em on to save life. De bottom ones is meaner dan de top ones. I like to missed and swallowed ’em yestiddy.”

“How come you wears ’em if dey pesters you so bad?”

“April likes ’em. E say dey becomes me. E paid a lot o’ money fo’ dem, too. E took me all de way to town on de boat to git ’em. But dey ain’ no sati’faction.” She sighed deep. “An’ de blood keeps all de time rushin’ to my head ever since I was salivate.”

Maum Hannah listened and sympathized with a doleful, “Oh-oh!” while Leah complained that the worst part was she couldn’t enjoy her victuals any more. She’d just as soon have a cup and saucer in her mouth as those teeth. It made no difference what she ate, now, everything tasted all the same.

“Fo’ Gawd’s sake take ’em off an’ rest you’ mouth to-day!” Maum Hannah exhorted her. “You may as well pleasure you’self now and den. April ain’ gwine see you. Not to-day!”

“Somebody’d tell him an’ dat would vex him,” Leah bemoaned.

But Maum Hannah took her by the arm and looked straight in her eyes. “Honey,” she coaxed, “Gawd ain’ gwine bless you if you let April suffer you dis way. You an’ April all both is too prideful. Take dem teeth off an’ rest you’ mouth till dis quiltin’ is over. It would fret me if you don’t.”

Screening her mouth with both hands Leah did rid her gums of the offending teeth, but instead of putting them in her apron pocket she laid them carefully in a safe place on the high mantel-shelf.

* * * * *

The room buzzed with chatter. How would such a great noisy gathering ever get straightened out to work? They were as much alike as guinea fowls in a flock, every head tied up turban-fashion, every skirt covered by an apron.

Big Sue welcomed every one with friendliest greetings, and although her breath was short from excitement, she talked gaily and laughed often.

A sudden hush followed a loud clapping of her hands. The closest attention was paid while she appointed Leah and Zeda captains of the first quilts to be laid out. Zeda stepped forward, with a jaunty toss of her head, and, shrugging a lean shoulder, laughed lightly.

“Big Sue is puttin’ sinner ’gainst Christian dis mawnin’!”

Leah tried to laugh, her tubby body, bulky as Big Sue’s, shook nervously, as her giggling rippled out of her mouth, but her eyes showed no mirth at all.

“You choose first, Leah. You’s de foreman’s wife.”

Leah chose Big Sue.

“Lawd,” Zeda threw her head back with a laugh, “Yunnuh two is so big nobody else wouldn’ have room to set on a bench ’side you.”

The crowd tittered, but Big Sue looked stern.

“Do, Zeda! You has gall enough to talk about bigness? T’ank Gawd, I’m big all de way round like I is.” She cast a wry look toward Zeda, then turned her head and winked at the crowd. But Zeda sucked her teeth brazenly. She was satisfied with her shape. She might not look so nice now, but her bigness would soon be shed. Just give her a month or two longer.

“You ought to be shame, wid grown chillen in you’ house, an’ a grown gal off yonder to college.”

“When I git old as you, Big Sue, den I’ll stay slim all de time. Don’t you fret.” Zeda laughed, and chose Gussie, a skinny, undersized, deaf and dumb woman, whose keen eyes plainly did double duty. When Zeda looked toward her and spoke her name, Gussie pushed through the crowd, smiling and making wordless gurgles of pleasure for the compliment Zeda had paid her by choosing her first of all.

“I take Bina next!” Leah called out.

“Bina’s a good one for you’ quilt. E’s a extra fine Christian.”

“You better be prayin’ you’se’f, Zeda,” Bina came back.

“Who? Me? Lawd, gal, I does pray.” Zeda said it seriously, and her look roved around the room. “Sinners is mighty sca’ce at dis quiltin’. Who kin I choose next?” She searched the group.

“Don’ take so long, Zeda,” Big Sue chided. “Hurry up an’ choose. De day is passin’. You an’ Gussie is de only two sinners. You’ ’bliged to pick a Christian, now.”

“Den I’ll take Nookie. E’s got swift-movin’ fingers.”

The choosing went on until eight women were picked for each quilt, four to a side. Then the race began.

The two quilt linings, made out of unbleached homespun, were spread on the clean bare floor, and covered over with a smooth layer of cotton.

“How come you got such nice clean cotton to put in you’ quilt?” Zeda inquired with an innocent look across at Big Sue.

When Big Sue paid her no heed, she added brazenly, “De cotton April gi’ me fo’ my quilt was so trashy and dark I had to whip em wid pine-tops half a day to get de dirt out clean enough to use.”

Still Big Sue said nothing.

“You must be stand well wid April.” Zeda looked at Big Sue with a smile.

Big Sue raised her shoulders up from doubling over, and in a tart tone blurted out, “You talks too much, Zeda. Shut you’ mouth and work.”

“Who? Me?” Zeda came back pleasantly. “Great Gawd! I was praisin’ de whiteness of de cotton, dat was all.”

Two of the patch-work covers that Big Sue had fashioned with such pains, stitch by stitch, square by square, were opened out wide and examined and admired.

“Which one you want, Zeda? You take de first pick.”

“Lawd, all two is so nice it’s hard to say.”

Gussie pointed to the “Snake-fence” design, and Zeda took it, leaving the “Star of Bethlehem” for Leah. Both were placed over a cotton-covered lining on the floor, corner to corner, edge to edge, and basted into place. Next, two quilting poles were laid lengthwise beside each quilt, and tacked on with stout ball thread. The quilts were carefully rolled on the poles, and the pole-ends fastened with strong cords to the side-walls. All was ready for the quilting.

Leah’s crew beat fixing the quilt on the poles, but the sewing was the tedious part. The stitches must be small, and in smooth rows that ran side by side. They must also be deep enough to hold the cotton fast between the top and the lining.

Little talking was done at first. Minds, as well as eyes, had to watch the needles. Those not quilting in this race stood around the hearth puffing at their pipes, talking, joking, now and then squealing out with merriment.

“Yunnuh watch dem pots,” Big Sue cautioned them. “Make Breeze keep wood on de fire. Mind now.”

The quilts were rolled up until the quilting poles met, so the sewing started right in the middle, and as the needles left neat stitches, the poles were rolled farther apart, until both quilts were done to the edges. These were carefully turned in and whipped down, with needles running at full racing speed. Zeda’s crew finished a full yard ahead. The sinners won. And how they did crow over the others! Deaf and dumb Gussie did her best to boast, but her words were stifled in dreadful choked noises that were hard to bear.

Big Sue put the wild ducks on to roast. They were fat and tender, and already stuffed full of oyster dressing, the same dressing she fixed for the white folks. She said the oysters came from near the beach where the fresh salt tide made them large and juicy.

What a dinner she had! Big Sue was an open-handed woman, for truth.