Chapter 4: In Residence at Whitlands

The next morning Father entered my room well before dawn to find us asleep and uncovered with Ebony's hot body pressed against me.

He shook me and said, "Get dressed and meet me in the dining room, Robert."

Ebony lazily rolled onto her back, letting him gaze on the richness of her naked body. Father's eyes traveled down her, stopping at the soft pink of her sex peaking from below the black thatch of hair. "You, too, Ebony. Get up and get to work," he said.

"Yes, sir, Master Bruce," she replied sleepily, but with a small and knowing smile acknowledging the effect her body had on him, or on any man.

I stumbled to the outer-house and returned to the bedroom to find her face down and apparently slumbering again. I slapped her plush bottom with the flat of my hand, receiving a squeal in return, and ordered her to arise. When I went into the guest house's center room, Fancy was dressed and waiting, her face adorned by the same neutral and effacing expression she usually wore.

"Good morning, Master Robert. What should Ebony and I do today?" she asked politely.

"Both of you report to Jane Marie," I said.

At that moment, Father reentered the guest house. "Everyone in this damn place is asleep. There is no one in the kitchen, not a light on in the house, and no sign of life from the slave quarters. How in Hell does any work get done?"

"We'll awaken them," I said.

"Of course we will." He turned to Fancy, who was cowering against the wall. "Fancy, first get Jonah, Samuel, and David. I want them to come to the big house. Then awaken Melissa. Tell her I want breakfast and I want it now. Then wake Witherspoon and have him report to me immediately."

"Yes, sir," she replied, but she didn't budge from that spot.

"Quickly, girl. Go," Father snapped. Fancy shot out the door and ran toward Jonah's tent.

"Ebony!" Father yelled.

Already dressed, she quickly threw open the door and stepped lively to stand trembling before him as he glared at her.

"You belong to Master Robert," Father said coldly.

"Yes, Master Bruce," she whispered.

"If you were my slave-girl and you wantonly showed your charms to another man as you did to me this morning, I might sell you that day, or, if you were a slave-girl whose sex pleased me, I might just give you a long, hard switching as a warning."

"Please, Master..." Ebony began.

"Be quiet," he said. "I said you weren't my girl."

She spun to face me, but remained silent upon seeing my expression, with tears running down her cheeks. Whether her legs gave way or she knelt intentionally, I don't know, but she fell to her knees in front of me with her upturned face silently imploring for mercy.

"Have a long and flexible switch laying on my bed when I return tonight, Ebony. I will deal with you then. Now go light the lamps in The Manor," I said coldly.

"Yes, Master Robert," she sobbed, before jumping up and running out the door.

"She is a good looking and wanton wench. No doubt she will be the pain of Hell for some poor man," Father said with a chuckle. "Come. To work."

The first light at The Manor flickered and glowed as we walked toward it. We heard people scurrying about in the slave quarters and saw a light in Jonah's tent. Jonah, Samuel, and David were waiting on The Manor's stoop for they, like Father and I, were accustomed to beginning their day early.

We bade one another good morning and began to discuss the farm when we heard Fancy crying, "Master Robert, Master Robert," as she ran toward us.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Mister and Missus Witherspoon are gone and so are the other white men and their families. They're all gone."

We all looked at Father, but he said, "What now, Robert?"

Once again, Father was thrusting responsibility on me and trusting me to handle it properly. He tried to maintain a solemn expression, but there was a twinkle in his eye. Jonah, too, was enjoying the moment of his new boss' first action. Samuel and David, however, faced me with the looks of men anticipating a command and trusting the man who would give it.

"Fancy, send Ebony out to me. Then awaken Mrs. Whitfield and Jane Marie, tell them what happened, and have them dress as quickly as possible. Jonah, what do you have for weapons?"

"Hand axes, Robert," he said. Don't think Jonah was being arrogant or disobedient in not referring to me as master. That title was not mandatory at Ironwood.

Slaves were not allowed firearms and South Carolina law prohibited arming a Negro or training them in their use. Father and I, like most white men in this backwater area, did not go out of the house without a pistol or two and a knife in our belts.

"David," I said turning to face him. "Get axes for the three of you. Tell Sarah to join us and send Constance Anne to the house for her safety."

We heard heated voices and Fancy screaming Ebony's name as we turned to walk toward the slave quarters. The Manor door slammed and I heard running. Momentarily, Ebony, breathing hard, was standing by me.

"Who is in charge of the horses and stables?" I asked her.

"Silas, Master Robert," she replied.

"Samuel, go with Ebony and roust Silas. Determine if any horses or equipment are missing and report back to me. Wait. There's David. Take your ax."

The slave quarters were always adjunct to the barn and stable area for the safety of slaves and animals alike since the Carolina woods were home to predatory wolves and cats. As for the rest, each plantation was laid out to suit the purposes of its owner and fit the terrain on which it sat. Whitlands' three overseer houses, which were much nicer than the shacks housing the slaves, sat between the slave quarters and The Manor. The slave quarters and the out-buildings sat on a small plain next to a creek, with the quarters upriver to the buildings for sanitary reasons, and the shops nearby for easy access, with a wooden rail fence surrounding it all.

Sarah joined us as we searched the overseers' houses, and they had indeed been abandoned. I told Jonah to select the house he wanted and move into it when the plantation situation was under control. We exited toward the slave quarters and met Samuel and Ebony who reported wagons, horses, and implements had been stolen.

Near the slave quarters was an assembly stand, a raised platform from which the overseer gave instructions to the group as a whole, with a bell nearby for calling the assembly. Another common apparatus in the area was the slave's tree. Originally an actual tree, but now more often a wood frame either in the shape of the letter "X" or built like the frame around a door, the slave's tree was where the slaves were whipped, suspended from the tree by ropes and chains. Ironwood had no slave's tree.

News of the white overseers' unseemly departure had spread like wildfire, and the slaves were milling around when we entered their area. Seeing white faces increased the buzz, but when I mounted the assembly stand, they gathered round and quieted down. To assure our message reached all their ears, David heartily rang the assembly bell.

I waited until I believed all were present before beginning. I identified myself both as Jane Marie's intended and as the new boss at Whitlands. I introduced Jonah as the new overseer and Sarah, Samuel, and David as his assistants, which brought a stir since they had never seen, and probably could not imagine, a black man as the overseer. I further instructed them to obey Jonah and his assistants as they would me.

I informed the slaves that we used the whip only in rare instances, but I made it clear we sold slaves who malingered or disobeyed and we expected hard work from them. In their presence, I told Jonah to ascertain if everyone had enough to eat, if any houses needed repairing, and if any illnesses needed doctoring, thereby committing to them our resolve to provide for them. I called the gang chiefs forward before stepping down from the stand.

Gang chiefs are picked to lead other slaves in a particular endeavor, such as Silas, who was gang chief of the stables. Once on the ground, I stepped forward, introducing myself to each of them in turn and extending my hand to shake theirs. This, too, caused a buzz in the crowd for white and black men did not shake hands. However, Father believed, and I agreed, looking a man in the eye and shaking his hand takes his measure and is the beginning of a stronger and more productive relationship.

I turned the meeting over to Jonah, who immediately told the crowd to disassemble and begin the day's chores. I walked toward the entrance gate where Father, with three pistols in his belt and a smile on his face, was standing with Jane Marie.

He shook my hand and said, "Well done."

I appreciated the accolade but Jane Marie's approving expression and her visible pride in me were a greater reward. She put her arm through mine as we walked back to The Manor. There we talked of Whitlands' business, with nary a word about personal matters, until breakfast was served. Mrs. Whitfield did not grace us with her presence.

I chose myself to make the hard three hour ride to the county seat to report the theft of Whitlands' property. I carried two braces of pistols and a letter of authority to represent the plantation. When I arrived, I found the sheriff and related my story. He informed me that Witherspoon and his cohorts were in the town's public house. There he and his deputies promptly arrested the culprits and incarcerated them in the town's stockade to await their fate. I assembled Whitlands' purloined property, delivered it to the local stables for safekeeping, and informed both the sheriff and the stable-owner that two young black men named Samuel and David would call to collect our possessions. In less than an hour, I was on my way back to Whitlands.

Upon my return, I gave Palmetto to Silas and instructed him to saddle me a new horse. I rode the property, making mental notes as to necessary changes. I found Father, stripped to the waist and with sweat gleaming on his body, talking to a group of slaves in the field. I suspect he was instructing them in the proper way to plant corn. I noted the garden area, much smaller than the one at Ironwood, needed expanding to provide enough vegetables to feed us all and that Whitlands suffered a shortage of poultry and cattle as well.

By evening, we all were tired but exhilarated. I sponged off the road dust and joined Father and Jane Marie in the dining room of The Manor where they were talking before dinner.

"Where is your mother?" Father asked.

"She's taking her meals in her room," Jane Marie replied.

Father's jaw set and twitched. "You are mistress of The Manor," he said to her. "I do not wish to appear to be rude, but I would like the authority to deal with this troublesome matter."

"Meaning my mother?" Jane Marie asked.

"Yes," Father said. It wasn't often a burr lodged under his saddle but Mrs. Whitfield clearly vexed him.

"Why?"

Jane Marie's question, equivocal and open-ended, raised all the issues between our respective parents. Father did not respond. Rather then hesitating for effect as he was wont to do, he was searching for the words.

Jane Marie cut him short by saying, "She suffered mightily by my father's hand, didn't she?" Father nodded. "You love her, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes, I do," he replied.

"Full authority will shortly be yours, so take it now and do what you wish," she said.

"Thank you, Jane Marie," Father answered sincerely. He turned to face the kitchen and bellowed, "Melissa." Quickly Melissa appeared. "Tell Mrs. Whitfield no more meals will be served to her room and tell her to come to the dining room for dinner at once," Father instructed.

Melissa's eyes opened widely and she looked at Jane Marie, who said, "The two Mr. MacKenzies are in charge now, Melissa. Do as he says."

"Yes, ma'am," Melissa said and hurried down the hall. We heard her relaying the message through the door. In a few moments, Melissa returned and said, "Missus Whitfield says she's not coming to dinner."

"Go back and tell her if she doesn't appear by the second course, I will kick down her door and drag her out by her hair," Father said.

"Oh, Mr. MacKenzie, I can't tell Missus Whitfield that," Melissa pleaded.

"Go tell her," Father said emphatically.

Melissa talked to herself as she again went to Mrs. Whitfield's bedroom. When she returned, she said, "Now Mr. MacKenzie, please don't get mad at me, but this is what she said to say to you. She said, 'Tell the brute I will be there shortly.'"

"Thank you, Melissa," Father said. The poor woman ran from the room. Father was grinning and we grinned in response. "I think I'll have a drink," he said. He called for Ebony and gave her instructions. Shortly, she returned with three whiskies.

"To Mary Elizabeth," Father said holding up his glass in the time honored signal for a toast.

"To Mary Elizabeth," we chorused, touching our glasses to his.

After the salad, we began the second course, which was pot roast with potatoes and vegetables, and the inevitable biscuits with butter and jam and strong tea. Mrs. Whitfield, who appeared as the plates were laid on the table, was properly dressed in a frock similar to Jane Marie's. Her eyes were swollen from crying and she looked emotionally drained. Father stood when he saw her, complimented her on her appearance, and held her chair for her.

The dinner conversation did not flow smoothly. Mrs. Whitfield wished to be silent and Father insisted she participate. His desire for her and her resistance were bittersweet, for I truly believed they were good for each other.

When dinner was complete, Father said, "Mary Elizabeth, let's sit on the front porch and talk for awhile."

"No, thank you, Bruce," she replied. "I'm going to my room."

It galled him, but he replied, "Certainly. Have a pleasant evening," as he held her chair and watched her walk away. He excused himself and departed by the front door.

"I didn't mean to be abrupt with you last night," Jane Marie said.

"I didn't take offense, but thank you for the apology."

"I had a long talk with Mother today. She told me she never committed adultery. She also told me about your father proposing to her and about his offer to buy her freedom from my father. Did you know about that?"

"Yes, I did," I replied.

"She wanted to accept, but didn't because it wasn't morally correct. That says something positive and good about her, doesn't it?" I nodded. "She told me other things, too. I realize my father subtly poisoned my mind against her yet she never spoke out against him. That's one reason I believe her."

"I hope you harbor no animosity toward her. She will always be your mother and in our lives."

"As both mother and mother-in-law it appears," Jane Marie said with a wry smile. "I'm going to be with her now." She stood and I stood with her. She came against me and wrapped her arms around my waist.

"I'm eagerly looking forward to our wedding night, my love," she whispered. She kissed me before walking toward the hall, where she stopped and turned back to me.

"May Fancy spend the night with me? I miss her," she said.

"Certainly. I'll send her in," I said. We bade each other sweet dreams.

Ebony and Fancy were in front of the fire when I entered the guest house, with Fancy on her knees rubbing Ebony's back.

"Where's Father?" I asked.

"In his room, Master Robert," Fancy replied. Ebony rolled over to look up at me, which pulled her dress tight over her breasts. Knowing I was watching, she spread her legs, pulling the lower dress tight around them.

"Jane Marie wants you to spend the night with her, Fancy. Go to her room."

For only an instant, she smiled and looked happy and then her passive mask returned. "Yes, Master," she replied. She gathered a few items and hurried out the door.

Ebony sat up and stared at me with hot eyes.

"Ready for your switching?" I asked.

"Please don't punish me, Master," she whispered in a sexy and yielding tone.

Like a cat, she sprang up and wrapped her arms around my waist with her breasts hot on my chest. One hand slid down to stroke my manhood.

"Let me please you, Master. I'll be so good to you, your head will rumble with dreams of me."

The door to Father's bedroom opened and he stuck his head out. Ebony, looking very guilty, stepped back from me. "Oh, good. You're here." He was grinning as he walked into the center room wearing only his trousers. "Is Ebony trying to seduce you out of her punishment?"

"Yes, sir, but it won't work."

"You shouldn't have told her. I'll bet you she'd be quite rewarding as she played her tricks to win you over."

"She's quite rewarding anyway," I replied.

"I know she is if she is anything like her mother," Father said. His eyes were on her and his voice neutral when he said, "But, unlike her mother, Ebony has not learned the virtue of fidelity to the man who is her lover or that her loyalty should be doubled if her lover is also her owner."

Ebony was still as a mouse, her only movement being her eyes as they flicked between Father and me.

Father's face and tone softened as he said, "Or perhaps she has learned wantonness is more pleasing to some masters than loyalty, particularly if her master enjoyed watching her copulate with his friends as Edward did."

Father faced me, with his profile to her, and her frightened eyes fell on me. "I told you Ebony had Edward and two slave-men as lovers before you, but Patience informed me that was incorrect. It seems Edward gave Ebony to all of his friends except me for their temporary use and enjoyment, and she did not go to the two bucks voluntarily but as a reward given to them by Edward."

He turned to face her. "Is that information correct?" he asked.

"Yes, Master Bruce," she whispered.

"Did you enjoy the others?" he asked. When Ebony did not answer, Father continued, saying, "Clearly she is deciding which answer she thinks will most please us rather than tell us the truth. Whether slave or free, all woman face that dilemma, but the burden of the slave woman might be greater, for she faces the pain of whipping or sale if she displeases her man. So she must decide - does she share with her lover the secrets of her heart and risk his displeasure, or hide them, telling him only what she thinks he wishes to hear?"