New York - The Novel

were glad of the regular work, and soon I was making good money.
    And from this and all that went before, I learned that, if you give people what they want, it can make you free.
    The following year, Her Ladyship died. And I was sorry for that. The year afterward, His Lordship’s party fell from office in London. And as soon as they learned this, all His Lordship’s enemies in New York sent urgently to London begging to have His Lordship removed from office on account of all the debts he still owed. They also said that he was dressing in women’s clothes, for those rumors were growing too—though no one ever heard any word of that from me. They even threw His Lordship in the debtors’ jail.
    Fortunately for him, his father died, and he became the Earl of Clarendon, which being a full peerage of England means, under English law, that he cannot be prosecuted—which is a fine trick, I must say. And he is safe back in England now.
    Jan and Miss Clara continued to be helpful to me, letting me know if cargoes of silk fabrics or other goods arrived in the port, and helping me get some pieces at cost price. So I wasn’t surprised, soon after His Lordship had left for England, when I got a message that Jan had some goods for me if I would come round to his house that day.
    As it happened, Miss Clara was also there when I arrived, and we went into the parlor.
    “I’ve bought some goods I think might interest you, Quash,” he said. “And Clara thinks you’ll like them too.”
    I knew she had a good eye, so I was eager to see them.
    “Well, here they are,” he said. And I heard the parlor door open, and I turned. And in walked my son Hudson.
    “The captain of one of Mr. Master’s privateers bought him off a ship down in Jamaica,” explained Mr. Jan. “Do you want him?”
    Hudson was looking so fine and strong, and he was smiling. And I think Miss Clara was smiling too, or she may have been crying; but I’m not sure, because suddenly my eyes were full of tears and so I couldn’t see too well.
    But after we had embraced, I had to make sure I understood.
    “So now Hudson belongs to …?”
    “Hudson is free,” said Miss Clara. “We bought him and now we’re giving him to you.”
    “He’s free, then,” I said, and for a moment or two I couldn’t speak.
    But then—I don’t know why—the idea came into my mind that I wasn’t satisfied. I knew that they meant kindly to me and to Hudson. I also knew, from all that I had lived through in my own life, that this traffic in human beings in which Mr. Master was engaged was a terrible thing. In my heart I considered that neither he nor any man should have the ownership of another; and if he gave up even one slave, so much the better. And I knew that I wanted my Hudson’s freedom more than I had ever wanted even my own. Yet despite all these considerations, I knew that in my mind I was not satisfied with this transaction.
    “I thank you for your kindness,” I said to Mr. Master. “But I am his father, and I should like to buy the freedom of my son.”
    I saw Jan glance at Miss Clara.
    “He cost me five pounds,” he said. I was sure that this was too low a figure, but I said he should have it, and I gave him the first part of the payment that very evening.
    “Now your father has bought your freedom,” I told my son. I don’t know if it was right or wrong, but that purchase meant a lot to me.

    That was two years ago. I am sixty years of age now, which is older than many men live, and far older than most slaves. Recently, my health has not been so good, but I think I have some time remaining to me yet, and my business thrives. My son Hudson has a little inn just above Wall Street, and he does well. I know he would rather go to sea, but he stays here to please me; and he has a wife and a little son now, so maybe they will keep him here. Each year, we go to Miss Clara’s house for the birthday of young Dirk, and I see him put on the wampum belt.

The Boston Girl
1735
    T HE TRIAL WOULD begin tomorrow. The jury had been rigged by the governor. Handpicked stooges of his own. Conviction guaranteed. The first jury, that is.
    For when the two judges saw it—though they were friends of Governor Cosby themselves—they threw the stooges out and started again. The new jury was not rigged. The trial would be honest. British fair play. New York might be a long way from London, but it was English, after all.
    The whole colony was waiting with baited breath.
    Not