New York - The Novel

didn’t bother with that now, because she shouted: “I’m not having any stinking Indians in this house.” But then she turned to the Boss and said: “I need a slave girl to help here, though. You could buy me a black one.”
    And the Boss was so glad to do something to please her that he went out to purchase a slave girl the very next day. Her name was Naomi.

    By this time I was about thirty years old. Naomi was ten years younger. But she was wise for her years. She was quite small, with a round face, and a little plumpness to her, which was pleasing to me. At first, being in a strange house, she was quiet; but we would talk together. As the days went by, we came to get acquainted better, and we told each other about our lives. She had lived on a plantation, but she had been fortunate to work as a servant in the house. When the owner of that house lost his wife and married again, the new wife said she wanted all new slaves in the house, and the old ones were to be sold off. So her owner sold her to a dealer who had taken her up to New York, where the prices were good.
    I told Naomi that this was a kindly house, which seemed to comfort her a little.
    Naomi and I got along together very easily. Sometimes I would help her if she had heavy tasks, and when I was tired, she would help me. For a few days I was sick, and she looked after me. So as the time went by, I began to feel a great affection for Naomi, on account of her kindness.
    And I began to have thoughts of making her my wife.
    I had never had a shortage of lady friends. Besides the women in the town, there was a girl I liked to see. She lived up at a little village on the East River just below Hog Island, and her name was Violet. On a summer evening, when the Boss told me he wouldn’t be needing me any more, I used to slip up there. Violet had several children, some of which may have been mine.
    But Naomi was different from those other women. I felt protective toward her. If I was to enter into relations with her, it would be to settle down, and I had not considered doing that before. So for quite a time I tried just to stay friends with Naomi but keep her at a distance from me. After a while I could see that she was wondering what I meant by my behavior; but she never said anything, and I did not tell her my thoughts.
    Then one evening, in the middle of her first winter, I found Naomi sitting alone and shivering. For having always lived in warm places, she had never known the cold of New York. So I sat beside her and put my arm round her. And by and by, one thing led to another; and after that it wasn’t long before we were living together like man and wife.
    The Boss and the Mistress must have known it, but they didn’t say anything.

    It was spring when the Boss told me I was to go up the Hudson with him. I had always been curious to see that great river, so, although it meant that I would be parted from Naomi for a little while, I was pleased to be going. Usually the Boss would have made this journey a few weeks later, but Clara and the Mistress had been quarreling so much, I believe he was glad to get away from them.
    Just before we left, he and the Mistress had some hard words. The Mistress was never too happy when he was going upriver, and then she started blaming him for Clara’s behavior. They closed the door, so I didn’t hear it all, but when we set out, the Boss was looking down and he didn’t say much.
    He was wearing a wampum belt. I had noticed that he always put that belt on when he was going upriver. I believe one of the Indian chiefs must have given it to him.
    There were four oarsmen, and the Boss let me take the tiller. By the time we were out on the water an hour, he was looking more cheerful again. The tide and the wind being against us, we made slow headway that day; but the Boss didn’t seem to care. I think he was just happy to be out on the river. We were still in sight of Manhattan when we pulled over to make camp.
    The next morning, we hadn’t gone far when he gives me a look and says: “So, Quash, I reckon you’ve made Naomi your wife. Didn’t you know you have to ask my permission?”
    “I don’t know as she’s my wife, exactly, Boss,” I said. “To take a wife you have to go to church.” I wondered what he’d say to this.
    “The English have words for it,” he told me. “Under English law—which we are supposed to use—since she lives in the house with you as though you were married, she would be