New York - The Novel

nod. So I was glad when Miss Clara added: “Quash has been with us all our lives, Lysbet. He’s my best friend.”
    The young lady gave me a warm smile after that, to show she understood I should be treated kindly.
    And it was a pleasure indeed to be at that wedding, and see the dominie smiling, and the Boss and the Mistress arm in arm looking so pleased.

    It was the next year that I was able to do the Boss a service that would change my life.
    In the year 1675, there was a terrible rising among the Indians. The Indian chief that led it was named Metacom, though some folk called him King Philip. I scarcely know what quarrel started it off, but it wasn’t long before all the bitterness in the Indians’ hearts against the White Men, for taking their land, caused them to rise up in Massachusetts and the farther parts of Connecticut; and soon the Indians and the White Men were killing each other in great numbers. And the people in New York were terrified.
    For these tribes that were fighting were all speakers of Algonquin. So it seemed natural that the tribes around New York might start in too. For though much weakened there were still considerable numbers of them upriver and out on Long Island.
    But Governor Andros knew what to do. He gathered all those Indians and made them swear not to fight; and a good many he brought to camp near the city, where he could keep an eye on them. Then he went upriver to the Mohawk Indians, and he promised them plenty of trade and supplies on condition that, if the Algonquin around New York gave any trouble, the Mohawks would come and smash them. And it certainly worked, because there was no trouble around Manhattan.
    One day during this time, the Boss took me to a place in the middle of Manhattan island where some of the Indians had been ordered to camp. He told me that he knew these people from a long way back when he used to trade with them. They had pitched several of their wigwams beside a clearing. It was a good place. Wild strawberries were growing in the grass. The Boss spent a while talking to the Indians in their own tongue, and you could tell they were glad to see him; but I could see that some of themwere sick. By and by the Boss came and said to me: “Are you afraid of the fever, Quash?”
    From time to time the fever had come to the town. When I was about eighteen years of age, I remembered it being very bad, and quite a few children and older folk dying. But the fever never seemed to trouble me.
    “No, Boss,” I said.
    “Good,” he says. “Then I want you to stay with these people a while, and see they have everything they need. Any food or medicine they lack, you come to town and tell me.”
    So I stayed in that place for nearly a month. And several of those families took the fever badly. One of their women especially, that was paler than the rest, she lost her husband, and her children were nearly gone. But I helped her carry those children over to the river, where we cooled them down, and afterward I went to town for oatmeal and suchlike. I believe that if I hadn’t helped her she might have lost those children too. Anyway, I told the Boss about it, and he said I had done well.
    But when it was all over, and I returned home, I was hardly through the door when the Mistress turned on me.
    “You’re wasting time saving those Indians,” she shouted at me. “Now get on about your work and clean this house that you’ve neglected for a month.” I knew she had a low opinion of Indians, but it wasn’t my fault that I helped them. The Boss told me not to worry about it, but she seemed to forget about my saving her life after that, and was cold toward me for quite a time.
    And this made me realize that you can live with people all your life, yet not be sure you know them.

    But I had certainly earned the gratitude of the Boss. It was about a month later that he called me to the room where he used to work and told me to close the door. He was smoking his pipe, and he looked at me thoughtfully, so that I wondered if I was in some kind of trouble.
    “Quash,” he said quietly after a minute or so, “no man lives forever. One day I shall die, and I have been thinking about what shall be done with you at that time.”
    I wondered if maybe he had in mind that I should work for his son Jan. But I kept my mouth shut and just listened respectfully.
    “So I have decided,” he said, “that you shall be free.”
    When I heard those words I could scarcely believe it. The