Red Red Wine

Red Red Wine

Tales of A Mulatto Slave Boy WL1990

Closing the barn door, young Arthur left behind the smell of hay, hungry horses, and the muttering of an owl somewhere above. Hurrying up the path, nearing the house he saw a bustle of activity going on. Immediately his insides churned as they had so many times in the past. His papa “Big Jim” was packing to leave. He froze momentarily, then his mind raced ahead to the security he knew lay in the vast woods just beyond the rear of the horse barn.

Arthur’s papa bought, sold and traded horses among other things. His work required him to travel. Most days, Arthur worked as a house boy and cooks helper in and around the big main house. He also assisted tending the horses, his favorite chore. Whenever his papa left for long periods of time it created a problem for Arthur. Big Jim’s wife was not his mother. Arthur’s mother lived in the slave quarters with his half brother Isum. In his father’s absence Arthur was subject to mistreatment from his papa’s wife. He was not her child and she resented having a sandy haired, blue eyed Mulatto boy resembling her children around. She never physically abused or harmed him leaving marks on his body. However she had her ways.

She found creative ways. Occasionally she required him to stand in the hot field with his arms up as a scarecrow for hours. Other times she simply tied him to a tree. Arthur’s solution to this problem was simple. He would head for the woods. There he would hide, roam, explore and wait for a bit of food and water until his father returned.

Arthur’s time spent in the woods enabled him to assist many who ran. Mostly, people of color who lost direction on the rail that had no tracks. He would point out the north star and proper direction. Unfortunately, Arthur didn’t always make it to the woods. Sometimes she asked other adults to look out for him. Mostly she’d simply corner him herself.

Now, today just as he got close to the commotion around the big house, Arthur spotted a friend, Dale, his father’s mixed bred foreman. Arthur saw him ever so slightly motion with his hand towards the woods. Arthur knew he had to go. He also knew Dale would inform his mama. He thought about the missus. Where was she? Arthur turned and headed back toward the barn. To the far side of it lay the woods with it’s great hiding places. Nearing the barn he put his head down and eased himself around the corner of it. He was just about to tell his feet to do their business when he sensed a presence. He looked up and there she was. Hands on her hips balled into fists, staring right at him. It scared hell out of him and he froze. “Boy.” She said, “`Don’t you move! You wait richt hea.” Arthur looked around for help that wasn’t coming. “You gonna help me fetch ma things today. Yes you are. And don’t you run ya little black devil. Ifin ya do, I'll set the dogs on ya.” She was gone, only for an instant and was back at his side with her purse and gloves. “Hitch up the wagon and that there mare, boy.” pointing to a brown mare in the first stall of the barn. “`You an me’s a goin ta town.” Having no choice he did as he was told. “Darned her.” Arthur knew this role well. “How many times?” He thought. She brought him out of his daydream faster than he’d gotten himself into it, yelling at him. “`Get in dad blame ya.” He did.

Others looked on, aware of his predicament but also aware there was nothing they could do to help him. The wagon rolled out of the yard and just as in the past she went only a short way before stopping and ordering him off. She then commenced tying one end of a rope around his waist and the other onto the back of the wagon. Climbing back aboard the wagon without looking back, she put the whip to the horse and headed to town. This left Arthur desperate to stay afoot in a cloud of dust. It took everything his young body could muster. This trip less than three miles seemed like ten.

She stopped just outside of town and untied him, dusted him off and ordered him back in the wagon. They continue into town just as big as you please. Once there she has Arthur load supplies. They finish and head for home. Sure enough, she soon stops and repeats the rope tying process and Arthur is doomed once again to a miserable trip home.

At the house, she instructs him to unload the wagon and warns him, “`Tell Big Jim an it’ll be worse next time.

On a Saturday afternoon several weeks later, with a blue sky overhead storm clouds still threatened. The sun glowed like a red spark through a crack miles away in the hills. Arthur could see his papa fixing to leave. Time to skedaddle to the woods. He stalled just a bit hoping to spot a friendly face for food and also to inform his mama.

He turned toward the barn and prepared to run but looking up he saw she was headed his way. She’d seen him. Yep! She got him, and by the ear at that. They headed toward the big house. All the time she’s walking she’s also fussing at him. “Boy. You gonna help me today. Going to help me serve my guests that's to arrive soon.” She gave him fancy clothes to put on. The shirt actually had little buttons on it. Just about the time he figured them all out, she gave him a big round tray with a bunch of glasses on it. From somewhere she produced a huge bottle of red wine and shoved it at Arthur. “Here.” She says, “Fill all these glasses up and when my guests start showing up and moving around socializing and such, well, you just offer them a glass of wine.” Arthur had never done anything like this before. He placed several glasses on his tray and filled them right to the top with the bright red wine. “Yep! He’d overfilled them doncha know?

So, the very first gentleman steps up for a glass of wine and spills part of it right down the front of his fresh white shirt. It’s a mess and that gentleman, he’s staring right at young Arthur. Arthur, well, he’s standing there looking back at the front of the man’s white, now crimson shirt with eyes the size of walnuts. The gentleman, he’s angry as all get out, “Why you little black rascal. I’ll show you” Suddenly he’s raising his fist to back hand Arthur. “No, no.” The lady of the house was almost yelling from the other side of the room. All this time she’s hurrying over to the scene. “Just wait. I’ll take care of his insolent little behind. Come here boy! She yells at him quickly, taking him outside onto the big porch front. Now Arthur is really thankful not to have gotten cuffed by that man. Unfortunately in his heart he knows the missus not wanting any marks on his body would find another way to punish him or have someone else do it. Meanwhile she’s just scolding and fussing at him. Putting on a show for all the guests he suspects.

After most of the guests departed, she approached him, still waiting there on the porch. She handed him a handwritten note and told him to take it into town and give it to the sheriff. “And you make sure you bring it right back to me after he signs it. You hear?” “Yes Ma'am.''Arthur replied. Taking the note Arthur headed to town. Worried, he kept looking at the note. He suspected she was like most everyone and knew he couldn't read. Arthur was well aware that it was against the law for slaves to read and write. Some had been injured or crippled for attempting to learn. Further it was against the law to teach a slave to read and write. To that point however big Jim had assisted Arthur a bit using a bible when he had time. Looking at the note, Arthur was able to make out his name. He also recognized the word wine. Looking further into the note he saw and recognized the word thrashin and he immediately froze. It was quite clear to him that he was headed to town for his comupetence. The sheriff would gladly blister his little behind.

All the way to town Arthur worried and prayed about what to do. Bless pete! The minute he got into town it seemed his prayers were answered. He spotted a brown skinned lad just about the same size and color as himself. In his mind Arthur was thinking “I know he can’t read.” Arthur immediately approached the lad and struck up a conversation. As soon as he felt comfortable, he mentioned that he had several reasons for being in town. He had to go clear over to the other side of it for a package, but he also had a small package wrapped in brown paper to get from the sheriff's office. He was in a powerful hurry and wondered, well, he had a nickel in his pocket which he would gladly give the young lad if he’d take Arthur’s note into the sheriff and claim the brown paper wrapped package while he, Arthur, ran over to the other side of town for the other one.

Sure enough, just as Arthur thought. That ole boy jumped at the chance to earn a nickel. Arthur gave it to him along with the note. The lad struck out for the sheriff's office and the brown paper wrapped package with Arthur following discreetly behind. Once the boy went inside Arthur crept up close to the building and sure enough the sheriff was putin the wood to that ole boy. “Ole sheriff was giving him scisser’s” as Arthur would recall later in life. Now Arthur took off and for the next hour or so he spent all his effort avoiding the lad who was going up one street and down the other rubbing his behind and looking for Arthur. He most certainly did not have a smile on his face either.

As the sun began its descent in the far west, Arthur figured the boy must have cooled off. So, he stalled a bit and let the young man catch up with him. Of course he was still very angry. Arthur was surprised and insisted he was unaware of any reason for the sheriff to do what he did. Besides, as Arthur was quick to point out he hadn’t gotten the brown paper package! “So, could I please have the note back? I’ll give you another nickel next time I see you.” The boy relented and gave up the note. With this, Arthur headed back toward home.

Arthur stopped at a small creek on the way home and wiped a bit of dirty water at the corner of both eyes. He entered the big house sniffling and pretending like he’d been crying and holding his behind as if it were still sore. Then, he turned the note over to the lady of the house. She was happy as a hog in high clover. He knew the ole sheriff was happy with a job well done. He himself was sure enough happy having escaped that whuppin. Everything seemed to have worked out for everyone. Ah, well everyone except perhaps that other little brown skin lad back in town. Ah! But him, well he’s got another nickel comin.

Eudell Watts III