FullReads

Duke never tired of his grandfather’s reminiscences, and he crept up close to the old man’s knee as the story began.

“When de big plantation-bell used ter ring on Christmas mornin’, all de darkies had to march up ter de great house fur dey Christmas-gif’s; an’ us what worked at de house, we had ter stan’ in front o’ de fiel’ han’s. An’ after ole marster axed a blessin’, an’ de string-ban’ play, an’ we all sing a song–air one we choose–boss, he’d call out de names, an’ we’d step up, one by one, ter git our presents; an’ ef we’d walk too shamefaced ur too ‘boveish, he’d pass a joke on us, ter set ev’ybody laughin’.

“I ricollec’ one Christmas-time I was co’tin’ yo’ gran’ma. I done had been co’tin’ ‘er two years, an’ she helt ‘er head so high I was ‘feerd ter speak. An’ when Christmas come, an’ I marched up ter git my present, ole marster gimme my bundle, an’ I started back, grinnin’ lak a chessy-cat, an’ he calt me back, an’ he say: ‘Hol’ on, Moses,’ he say, ‘I got ‘nother present fur you ter-day. Heah’s a finger-ring I got fur you, an’ ef it don’t fit you, I reckon hit’ll fit Zephyr–you know yo’ gran’ma she was name Zephyr. An’ wid dat he ran his thumb in ‘is pocket an’ fotch me out a little gal’s ring–“

“A gol’ ring, gran’dad?”

“No, boy, but a silver ring–ginniwine German silver. Well, I wush’t you could o’ heard them darkies holler an’ laugh! An’ Zephyr, ef she hadn’t o’ been so yaller, she’d o’ been red as dat sky yonder, de way she did blush buff.”

“An’ what did you do, gran’dad?”

“Who, me? Dey warn’t but des one thing fur me to do. I des gi’n Zephyr de ring, an’ she ax me is I mean it, an’–an’ I ax her is she mean it, an’–an’ we bofe say–none o’ yo’ business what we say! What you lookin’ at me so quizzical fur, Juke? Ef yer wants ter know, we des had a weddin’ dat Christmas night–dat what we done–an’ dat’s huccome you got yo’ gran’ma.

“But I’m talkin’ ’bout Christmas now. When we’d all go home, we’d open our bundles, an’ of all de purty things, an’ funny things, an’ jokes you ever heerd of, dey’d be in dem Christmas bundles–some’h’n’ ter suit ev’y one, and hit ‘im square on his funny-bone ev’y time. An’ all de little bundles o’ buckwheat ur flour ‘d have picayunes an’ dimes in ’em! We used ter reg’lar sif’ ’em out wid a sifter. Dat was des our white folks’s way. None o’ de yether fam’lies ‘long de coas’ done it. You see, all de diffe’nt fam’lies had diffe’nt ways. But ole marster an’ ole miss dey’d think up some new foolishness ev’y year. We nuver knowed what was gwine to be did nex’–on’y one thing. Dey allus put money in de buckwheat-bag –an’ you know we nuver tas’e no buckwheat ‘cep’n’ on’y Christmas. Oh, boy, ef we could des meet wid some o’ we’s white folks ag’in!”

“How is we got los’ f’om ’em, gran’dad?” So Duke invited a hundredth repetition of the story he knew so well.

“How did we git los’ f’om we’s white folks? Dat’s a sad story fur Christmas, Juke, but ef you sesso–

“Hit all happened in one night, time o’ de big break in de levee, seven years gone by. We was lookin’ fur de bank ter crack crost de river f’om us, an’ so boss done had tooken all han’s over, cep’n us ole folks an’ chillen, ter he’p work an’ watch de yether side. ‘Bout midnight, whiles we was all sleepin’, come a roa’in’ soun’, an’ fus’ thing we knowed, all in de pitchy darkness, we was floatin’ away–nobody cep’n des you an’ me an’ yo’ mammy in de cabin–floatin’ an’ bumpin’ an’ rockin,’ an’ all de time dark as pitch. So we kep’ on–one minute stiddy, nex’ minute cher-plunk gins’ a tree ur some’h’n’ nother– all in de dark –an’ one minute you’d cry–you was des a weanin’ baby den–an’ nex’ minute I’d heah de bed you an’ yo’ ma was in bump gins’ de wall, an’ you’d laugh out loud, an’ yo’ mammy she’d holler– all in de dark. An’ so we travelled, up an’ down, bunkety-bunk, seem lak a honderd hours; tell treckly a termenjus wave come, an’ I had sca’cely felt it boomin’ onder me when I pitched, an’ ev’ything went travellin’. An’ when I put out my han’, I felt you by me–but yo’ mammy, she warn’t nowhar.