Chapter 9

Clearly, owning slaves was a constant source of temptation. That Sunday evening, John prayed for forgiveness. It was the first time in years, he had said a prayer, or at least, a real one. In the past few months, he had learned that religion was more important here, in the Georgian country, than in the city of Philadelphia. When Richard had informed him that first week that his late uncle used to conduct an informal service on the plantation every Sunday morning, it was clear that he expected him to continue the tradition. Not wanting to offend his overseer, John had accepted to attend, but he had asked Richard to lead. After all, what did he know of preaching? During those services, John was merely going through the motions. Maybe it helped his slaves to feel connected with him, as they all seemed to take service very seriously. Or maybe they were faking it as well, feeling they didn’t have a choice? John couldn’t tell, and he knew there was no point in asking them.

That Sunday evening, after his little escapade with William and Bonnie, he found himself saying a real prayer. Though neither of them had seemed to object to his participation, John still felt guilty for what he had done. He knew that, legally, he owned these people and that he had a right to do as he pleased with them. Obviously, society would frown upon his actions if it became known somehow, but that was more because of the perverse nature of what had happened than out of respect for the slaves. Society would have more problems with the first part of his deal with William, the sexual contact between two men, than with anything else he, or they, had done. And though he definitely felt shame for what he had done with William, John didn’t feel remorse for it.

What he did feel sorry for, was the way he had forced himself into William and Bonnie’s coupling. True, they hadn’t shown any sign or resistance, but considering his position, maybe they hadn’t dared to. Was he a victim of his northern upbringing? Would a southern master have had such qualms about using his slaves for his pleasure? Ha! A victim. As if he could claim to be the victim when he was the one holding all the power.

After a long night with only short moments of sleep, John got up at the break of dawn. He splashed cold water in his face from the bowl that Sarah had placed on the dresser in the evening. Dressing himself, he resolved to make up for his poor decisions the day before. Though there wasn’t much he could do without raising suspicions, he knew he’d feel better if he at least tried to make amends.

Taking his breakfast out on the porch, he could see the slaves arriving at the fields for another day of work under Richard’s watchful eye. Despite the distance he recognized William and Bonnie, walking next to each other and talking. Before they separated to join their respective work groups, he could see them holding hands for a moment as a goodbye. There seemed to be real affection between the two young slaves. Maybe that was it, maybe he could allow them to be together, to live as a couple.

Later that day, John searched out Richard with a bottle of cider in hand. “Richard! Can you come over here for a moment, please?”

Looking up in wonder, Richard wiped his hands on his trousers and after checking the slaves continued working, made his way over to John at the edge of the field. “Is there a problem, Mr. Berrien?” he inquired.

“No, not at all. I just thought you could use a break. Take a few minutes here in the shade with me. I’ve brought something for us to drink,” John said, extending the bottle towards Richard. While it wasn’t exactly normal behavior for him to chat socially with his overseer during the work day, Richard accepted the bottle without questions. After taking a swig, he let out a satisfied sigh. Gazing towards the fields, he waited for John to speak.

“I noticed William and Bonnie seem to take a liking to each other,” John began casually, observing like Richard his slaves in the field.

Richard only hummed in response, his disinterest clear, before taking another swig from the bottle.

“I think I’d like to let them live together,” John continued, his voice as even as he could manage. He didn’t know why he was nervous. It was his plantation after all, they were his slaves. Well, to be honest, he did know. It felt like Richard would recognize his inappropriate lust for both slaves in his request.

“Why? That’s not how we do things around here,” Richard snorted.

The abrasive way Richard wanted to dismiss his wish irritated John. “In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a new owner. Sometimes things got to change. I trust you’ll see to it,” John turned to look his overseer in the eye, making clear he didn’t want any more objections. After that, he left Richard to his job and returned to the house.

Sure enough, Richard wasn’t going to pick a fight with him about an issue that couldn’t harm him. When John walked through the slave quarters the next evening, William and Bonnie had been relocated from their original cabin and now shared one at the edge of the terrain.

Approaching them, he asked, “I trust you like your new living arrangement?”

Both of them nodded. “Yes, masta. Thank you,” William replied, his gaze lowered in deference.

John left the slave quarters feeling better about himself. It was a small thing, really, but it was about as much as he could do without the other slaves starting to wonder.

The next morning, John once again observed how the plantation came to life from his porch. Among the slaves arriving at the fields, he saw William and Bonnie, holding hands as they walked. A small smile tugged at his lips. He was glad that the two young slaves were happy together. Then Sarah arrived with his breakfast, and he turned his attention towards the food on the table. It was a simple but hearty meal, exactly like he had gotten used to since arriving in the South.

After breakfast, John went for his customary morning walk around the plantation. The sun, already high in the sky, filled the air with a thick, humid warmth. In his orchard the apple trees had now lost their blossoms, while the peaches had just started to ripen. He remembered how Richard had told him that Phillis made an excellent peach cobbler, and was looking forward to the day she would bake one for him.

Walking at a leisurely pace, his thoughts drifted back to the last few days. He was just about to take a turn towards the fields, when he thought he heard a distant scream. Stopping in his tracks, John listened intently. At first he only heard birdsongs coming from the woods, but then there it was again - a shriek that sent a shiver down his spine. It came from the direction of the fields, and John began to run towards the sound.

It took him three more screams before he got close enough to see what was going on. William was standing with his bare back, hands tied and drawn up high above his head, suspended from a rope tied to a thick tree branch. Richard stood beside him, ready to deliver the next lash with his whip.

“Stop it!” John shouted, racing towards the scene. Then a crack of the whip and another piercing scream from William.

“Richard! Stop it!” John repeated. He sprinted the last few steps, his gaze locked on Richard’s raised arm, the whip poised to strike again. “That’s enough!”

Richard looked at him with fury in his eyes. “Mr. Berrien, you’re interfering where you don’t belong,” he snapped, readying himself to strike again.

“You’re on my plantation, whipping one of my slaves,” John barked, grabbing Richard’s arm. “Now, tell me what’s going on here. What did William do to deserve this punishment?”

“That nigger attacked me!” Richard indignantly spat in response. Sure enough, looking closer, John noticed a bruise on Richard’s face. “You can’t possibly mean to let that go unpunished?!”

“That would indeed be a serious transgression. Why did he do that?” John calmly asked.

“Who knows why these niggers do anything? They’re animals. They know no reason!” Richard protested.

After thinking for a moment, John ordered one of the bystanding slaves to cut William loose. “There will be no more whipping without my express permission. I want to talk with William in order to understand what happened. Afterwards, I will make my decision.”

“Mr. Berrien, you can’t be serious!” Richard exclaimed, his face deep red, before storming off.

Exhausted, William slumped to the ground with his back still exposed, trembling and breathing heavily from the pain of the lashes.

“Bonnie, take William to your cabin and take care of his wounds. I will come by later. Everybody else, get back to work,” John said with authority. He watched Bonnie and William retreat to the slave quarters, while the others went back to the field. There was plenty of murmuring among them, but not so loud that John could understand what they were saying.

An hour later, John found himself in William and Bonnie’s cabin. Despite the small window, the room was hot and stuffy. William sat on a straw mattress, with Bonnie by his side. His upper body was still bare, ointment smeared across the lashes on his back.

“I’m sorry, masta. I shouldn’t have struck boss Walker,” William said remorseful.

“How about you tell me why you did it,” John responded, sitting down across from the couple on a simple wooden chair.

“We was working the field. Boss Walker told Bonnie to come with him and they both went to the woods. It made me worry, so when they stayed away, I followed them. I saw boss Walker ... touchin’ Bonnie, masta, touch her ... there. She was cryin’ and sayin’ no, but he was grabbin’ and pullin’ her clothes. I just couldn’t stand by and do nothin’, masta.” William’s voice trembled with anger and his eyes welled up with tears.