New York - The Novel

wife was a slave in the Masters’ house. Her name was Cleopatra. At least, it had been when she arrived, until Mercy, thinking the name inappropriate, had made her change it to Ruth. Hudson and she had a daughter, then a son. When Hudson called his son Solomon, and Mercy asked him why he chose this biblical name, he told her it was because King Solomon was wise. But to his wife afterward he’d added quietly: “And old King Solomon was a rich man too.” Since his wife was a slave, his children were slaves too. But Master had made a straightforward arrangement.
    “You can buy them out for a fair price now, Hudson, or they can be mine until they’re twenty-five. After that, I’ll set them and their mother free.” Since the children were fed and clothed, and Master saw to it that Solomon was taught to read, write and figure, this wasn’t a bad deal.
    “For it ain’t so good to be free and black in New York,” Hudson reminded Ruth. “Not these days, anyhow.”
    There were still black freedmen in the city. But the last half-century had certainly been bad for Negroes. The old days of the Dutch, when white farmers and their black slaves might work in the fields side by side, was not even a memory. As England’s mighty sugar trade had grown larger than ever, so the numbers of slaves being sold in the markets had risen. Since the days when Hudson’s grandfather was a boy, the West Indies had sucked in almost a million slaves, and the whole African slave trade was now in British hands. With such vast numbers in the market, the unit price of a human being dropped. Most city tradesmen and craftsmen could afford to go down Wall Street to the slave market by the river, to buy a household slave or two. Farmers came across the Brooklyn ferry from Kings County to buy workers for their fields. There were more slaves as a percentage of population in the New York region than anywhere north of Virginia.
    And if all these black people were chattels, why then—most people nowadays agreed—it must be that God had created them inferior. And if they were inferior, then it stood to reason that they shouldn’t be free. Besides, people hadn’t forgotten the slave disturbances, like the burnings of 1741. Blacks were dangerous.
    So if most people assumed that he was John Master’s slave, Hudson didn’t much care. “At least that way,” he pointed out, “people don’t give me no trouble.” All he could do was count himself lucky and hope, one day, for better times.
    He’d run the house smoothly for old Dirk Master while John and Mercy had been in England. Hudson and John’s father had always got along well, and Dirk had sent a letter full of praise for him to London. Had Hudson sent a report on Dirk Master, however, it wouldn’t have been so glowing. The trouble was young Miss Susan.
    Susan Master had not only grown up into a beautiful young woman; she was even-tempered, practical, and knew her own mind. As her grandfather remarked to Hudson, “At least I don’t have to worry about her.”
    But Hudson wasn’t so sure about that. When young Mr. Meadows had begun to court her, it was clear that Susan liked his advances very well. He was a handsome young fellow, with a strong face, a splendid horse, and heir to one of the best farms in Dutchess County. In short, although she was still very young, he was just what she wanted.
    Just so long as things didn’t go too far before they were married. And they might. There had been times when the two young people had been left alone in the house for far too long. “You have to tell her,” Hudson urged his wife, “to take care.” And he himself had summoned the courage, to remark gently to old Dirk that the young people were spending a lot of time unsupervised together. “If she gets into trouble, and maybe young Mr. Meadows changes his mind …” he’d lamented to Ruth.
    “I reckon the Masters would make him marry her,” Ruth assured him.
    “Maybe,” he’d answered, “but it won’t look right.” And again he’d tried to warn her grandfather.
    But old Dirk Master had refused to be worried. He was enjoying his time in New York. The burden of the business was light. It seemed that he was unwilling to allow anything to disturb his peace of mind. And indeed, Susan’s cheerful face and sensible character seemed to give the lie to Hudson’s worries. But when his son Solomon came running into the house, one summer morning, to tell him that the Masters had returned and