New York - The Novel

delight in his little grandson Dirk.
    In the year 1701, we heard that Captain Kidd had been executed in London for piracy. Hudson said that the trial must have been rigged, though he did allow that the captain had killed a man. I was sorry for the captain, but I was still relieved that the idea of privateering looked more dangerous than ever to my son.
    Quite often the Boss would hire Hudson out to people to work for them a while, and since I had trained him well, they would pay the Boss quite a good fee. Each time the Boss would give Hudson a share of this, so that he was getting to put by a little money of his own now.
    It was one morning in October that the Boss sent me over with a message for the man that ran the rum distillery on Staten Island. I seldom went to that place, and was glad to go. There was a boat going there from the wharf, and we made a pleasant journey across the harbor to the dock by the village that they call the old town. The English call the island Richmond. I knew there were two big estates there, and I could see farms dotted about on the little hills. It seemed to me a very pleasant place.
    I didn’t get back from there until halfway through the afternoon. I walked along the waterfront and was making my way to the house when I saw Hudson running toward me.
    “Come quickly,” he cried. “The Boss is dying.” So we ran into the house. And they told me there that the Boss had been struck by a terrible crisis not long after I had left, and that he wasn’t like to live. And they took me in to see the Boss at once.
    There was a doctor there, and some of the family, including Clara. The Boss was looking very gray, and I saw that his breathing was shallow. But he recognized me, and when I went to his side, he tried to smile.
    “I’m safe back, Boss,” I said. “And I’m sorry not to see you looking better.” Then he tried to say something to me, though it just came out like a strange noise. But I knew what he was saying. He was telling me, “You’re free, Quash. You’re free.” And although nobody could understand him, I smiled and said: “I know, Boss. I know.” After a moment, his head fell back and I said: “Don’t you worry yourself about that now, Boss.” And I took his hand. Then he frowned, and he seemed to be trying to shake my arm; then he stared very hard into my eyes. And I knew what he wanted. “I ain’t forgotten my promise, Boss,” I said. “I remember what you told me to do.” And although he couldn’t speak, he squeezed my hand.
    The Boss lived through most of that day. Early in the evening, I was in the yard with Hudson when Clara came out with tears in her eyes and told me that the Boss had another huge seizure, and that he was gone.
    “I know you loved him, Quash,” she said.
    “Yes, Miss Clara,” I said. And part of me was sad because, as the life of a slave goes, the Boss certainly treated me as well as any slave can hope for. But part of me was just thinking about my freedom. I didn’t know if the Boss had told the family I was free, but I knew it was in his will, so I wasn’t worried.

    The Boss’s funeral was a big affair. Half of the city of New York was there, I reckon, Dutch and English alike. And everyone was very kind and respectful to the Mistress. That evening she went over to Jan’s house for a while. And while she was gone, it occurred to me that this would be a good time to get the Boss’s Indian belt from its hiding place. So I went and did that, and keeping it wrapped up, I took it to where I slept, and hid it there; and nobody was the wiser.
    The next day, during the morning, the Mistress said she was going out to see about some business concerning the Boss’s affairs. And I was wondering if maybe it would soon be time to speak to her about my freedom. And I thought that when she returned, depending on her mood, I might mention it. In the meantime, while she was out, I reckoned I would carry out my promise to the Boss concerning the Indian belt, and get that done with. So I took the belt all wrapped up, and I started for Miss Clara’s house, which was down on Bridge Street.
    Well, I had got halfway there, just past the end of Mill Street, when I heard a voice behind me.
    “What’ve you got there, Quash?”
    It was the Mistress. I was thinking maybe I’d pretend I didn’t hear her, and I glanced around quick to see if I could avoid her, but before I could do anything, I felt her hand on my shoulder. So I turned and smiled,