Hang a Thousand Trees with Ribbons (8 page)

"Come, Phillis," Nathaniel said. He stood in the doorway, holding out his hand. "It's time."

I was in a frenzy of excitement. Aunt Cumsee took off my apron and kissed me. "Do me proud," she said.

"Give me the cake, please."

She handed it to me and I carried it carefully, walking with Nathaniel into the dining room, where Mrs. Wheatley, in rose silk, sat ready to pour the tea. Her husband, Mary, and Reverend Lathrop had all given her presents. Now Nathaniel and I were about to give ours.

They looked up, smiled, and clapped for the cake. I set it down. "I made it myself," I told Mrs. Wheatley.

"It's lovely, dear."

"And we've another surprise for you," Nathaniel said. "Phillis can read. We'd like to show you before we have dessert."

"Read?" Mrs. Wheatley's hand flew to the lace kerchief at her throat.

"Surely you jest, Nathaniel." His father's face went grave. "Don't use the child in this manner. Not even for jest."

"You sly fox," Mary said. "John, I told you they were up to something."

"The child has extraordinary abilities. I told you, Mary," Reverend Lathrop said.

Nathaniel held up a hand for silence, then produced a copy of the
Lively Lady's
manifest. "Read, Phillis."

So I read. I recited the items. Not once did I look up. But I heard their gasps; heard the polished floorboards creak as Aunt Cumsee came in with a platter of fresh fruit. I felt Prince come into the room to pour some wine for the men.

Sulie came in next to clear some dishes. I kept reading.

Finally, I finished and looked up. For a dreadful moment there was such silence that I could hear my own heart.

Were they displeased? Angry?

"Phillis!" Mrs. Wheatley said. "How ever did you learn?"

"Nathaniel taught me."

"By heaven!" his father said.

"I told you the ordinary person could better himself, didn't I, Father?" Nathaniel asked. "It's what I have based my whole theory of selling on. Times are changing. We must change with them or be outdistanced by other merchants."

Thanks to the advertisements in the
Post,
the merchandise Nathaniel had stocked in the shoppe had sold. Mr. Wheatley was hard put to keep up with his customers' demands. And, as Nathaniel had said, they were all the common man and woman.

"You've done fine, son," Mr. Wheatley said. "You have proved yourself. But let's not talk selling now. The child has a brilliant mind. And you were the one to see it."

"Phillis, come here and give me a hug," Mrs. Wheatley said.

I ran to her to be embraced.

"She can say some Latin, too," Nathaniel boasted. "Phillis, what does
Post nubile phoebus
mean?"

"After clouds, the sun," I answered.

"
Par nobile fratrum.
"

"A noble pair of brothers."

Nathaniel looked about to explode with pride. "
Pulvis et umbra sumus.
"

"We are dust and shadows." I caught Prince's eyes as I said it. Silently, he left the room.

"She can write, too, Mother," Nathaniel boasted.'

Tears were streaming down Mrs. Wheatley's face. "Dear child! And to think they were selling you on the block. Mr. Wheatley, I am confused. What are we to do?"

He was not confused. "For now we are to sit and enjoy the lovely cake," he said, "and Phillis is to sit at the board with us. Aunt Cumsee, another plate and some sterling."

"Yes, sir!" She left the room.

Of a sudden I was frightened.
Sit at the table with them?
"I'm supposed to fetch in the cider punch," I said.

Nathaniel was pulling out a chair for me. "Sulie will fetch it. You are to sit with us, as Father says."

"
Hhmph,
" Sulie said. And she pinched me as she passed.

Nathaniel lifted me onto the chair. I looked around. The board was shining and polished. White linen was under each plate of delicate china. Crystal goblets, silverware, blazing candles in candelabra. From here I could see the sideboard, where sat the silver coffee urn, Baltimore chocolate pot, punch bowl.

Mr. Wheatley stood at the head of the table. "Henceforth, you will take all your meals with us, Phillis. You need special nurturing. And I say you shall receive it. What say you, Mrs. Wheatley?"

"That you are right, Mr. Wheatley."

Then there was Prince again, hovering over me, setting down a gold-edged plate, a fork, and a spoon. He took a white linen napkin and set it, just so, in my lap.

"You mind your manners, now," he said softly. Then he was gone.

"I'm not happy with your Latin today, Phillis. Tell me one reason why I should take you to the wharf."

"Because you promised."

"Did I, now? Tell me of it. I disremember."

He was going to be vile. In almost three years I had become well acquainted with his moods. Times he was given to melancholy. And when the notion took him he could be surly, even mean.

"You said that if I made no more mention of being free, you would take me to the wharves whenever a ship arrived from the coast of Africa."

"What kind of ship?"

He would have me say the word. "A slave ship."

"And? Has one arrived, then?"

"The
Belisarius
is due this morning." I took the latest copy of the
Boston Post
and turned to the page of marine news. "It's listed under arrivals."

"So you are reading the newspaper every day as I asked. And not only Scripture."

"I read Scripture for your mama. The newspaper for you."

"And what pleases you most, Phillis?"

"The newspaper," I allowed.

My answer satisfied him. "Let's go, then. But I still expect improvement in your Latin. You can do better than that with your translations of Virgil."

Nathaniel drove the chaise himself. I think he did not want Prince to know we were going to the wharves for the arrival of a cargo of slaves.

I liked it when we went places together, just the two of us. And he always kept his promises. It was part of being a successful merchant, he said, to honor your agreements.

And he was a successful merchant now. More and more he was taking over his father's interests. He had the respect of everyone in town. He was making money faster than he could spend it. Last summer he'd had a fountain put in his mother's garden. She had always wanted one.

There were days we did not see him at all, he was so busy. On such days I sorely missed him. On such days Mrs. Wheatley stepped in, instructing me in Scripture. She was of a mind that a girl couldn't know too much Scripture. Then, just as I felt mired in it, Nathaniel would stop home unexpectedly in the middle of the day, as he had just done. To check on my progress.

Hancock's Wharf was crowded with nigras come to see the arrival of the slave ship. They came to see if anyone from home was aboard.

Nathaniel had promised me that if I saw anyone from home, he would purchase them. We had come once or twice before. But I never saw anyone.

The Boston nigras would stand bearing mute witness while the cargo was unloaded and the dirty, stunned wretches, some still in chains, were led to the warehouse.

"Why I indulge you in this, Phillis, I will never know," Nathaniel said.

I was about to give a saucy reply. I had found that sauciness pleased him more than humility at times. But the words never got past my lips.

"Mr. Wheatley! Ho there, sir!"

A young man came running out of the Hancock countinghouse. "Message from Mr. John."

Nathaniel read it, swore softly, then handed the young man a shilling. "Are the Hancocks all right?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. Thomas has the servants readying things to take his wife to the country. Miz Lydia, she's in a awful tizzy. Says she won't go unless he goes with her. So young John is staying to take care of things."

"Thank you, my good man. Give the family my regards. I must get home." And with that, Nathaniel turned the carriage so fast it near toppled over.

"Home? Nathaniel, what about the
Belisarius?
"

"We're going home, Phillis. Now."

"What's happened?"

"Smallpox."

Smallpox!

That word was as dreaded as the word
fire
in Boston. By the third week in February it had spread through town. Seven well-known families had it. The Glentwoods, the Flaggs, the Gylers, the Deans, the Jenningses, the Reveres, and the Hitchbournes.

I was not allowed out. Neither was Mary. Shoppes and markets were closed, but Nathaniel and his father went to their countinghouse. Business fell off. Carriages and carts rumbled outside in the streets as people fled town. The lieutenant governor adjourned the General Court. Everything was in a state of mayhem. And the Wheatleys were no different.

By the last week in February, the pesthouses were full. And it seemed as if every other house on our street flew a smallpox flag.

Aunt Cumsee sprinkled sulfur all over the house. It smelled horrible. Then she took to smoking a pipe and puffing smoke all over the place.

"Things can't get much worse," Mr. Wheatley said. We were taking our main meal—at two during the winter, because the light was better. "Isn't the pox enough? Now we hear that Harvard Hall has burned down."

"Things can and will get worse if we don't get inoculated," Nathaniel said.

"Inoculated?" Mrs. Wheatley dropped her spoon. "You heard what Reverend Sewall said about that. If God sent the pox to scourge His people, what He desired was not inoculation but repentance!"

"With all due respect for the good reverend, Mrs. Wheatley," her husband said, "if God gave us the intelligence to discover inoculation, I am sure He wishes us to seize the remedy and use it."

I had heard the Reverend Sewall's passionate sermon. I shivered, knowing I was one of the sinners for whom God had visited the disease upon us.

I had taken too readily to the Koomi ways, too easily forgiven them for enslaving my people. I had fallen prey to their soft words, their riches, their gifts.

I had never repented for disobeying my mother and running off to meet with Obour that morning. My mother was dead because of it.

"We must pray," Mrs. Wheatley was saying.

"We can do that better if we live than if we die,"
her husband answered. "And apparently many others agree. They are pouring into town for inoculation."

"The selectmen have agreed to let the inhabitants try it, Mother," Nathaniel said carefully.

"But it's dangerous!"

"What choice do we have, Mother?" he asked. "Boston fought against inoculation in the epidemic of twenty-one, but we are now ready. Dr. Sprague has agreed to come to the house and do it. He and Drs. Warren, Kast, Perkins, and Lloyd are wearying themselves to the bone, inoculating people all over town. Dr. Clark is doing it free for the poor."

Of a sudden Mary gave a choking sob. "What about John?"

"Reverend Lathrop has already been inoculated, Mary," Nathaniel told her. "He sent word to the countinghouse that he did it to give good example."

"Then I can do no less," Mary said.

"Brave girl," Nathaniel told her.

Mary nodded, white faced.

"Then you have made arrangements?" his mother asked.

"Sprague comes tonight," Nathaniel said.

At that moment we heard a yowl and a great crashing sound. It came from the kitchen. We got up and ran.

Aunt Cumsee lay on the floor. Sulie stood over her, screaming.

Prince, Nathaniel, and Mr. Wheatley lifted Aunt Cumsee to bed. By the end of the day we knew she had the pox.

Mr. Wheatley went to the selectmen for a flag to put out in front of our house. And a guard.

I went to my room and closed my door. I would not be inoculated. I was not afraid, no. It was more than that. God had sent the disease to scourge me. He wanted repentance! And now Aunt Cumsee was sick. I must repent and save her.

In a little while I heard the Wheatleys come upstairs. They were arguing.

"It is the work of the Lord to attend the sick!" Mrs. Wheatley wailed.

"It is the work of the devil to expose yourself to disease! No one is to go near Aunt Cumsee! Even she knows better. You heard her ask Nathaniel to send for her sister. She's had the disease already and is in no danger."

I whimpered.

"Poor dear," Mrs. Wheatley moaned. "I knew we shouldn't have sent her out for food. Oh, how will we manage without her?"

"Sulie can do for us. She is in charge of the house now. Go and rest until Dr. Sprague comes."

I heard her door close. He went back downstairs. I stood looking out the window of my room as the town crier went by.

"Distemper spreading through town! Inoculation at Province House! Inoculation! With the blessing of all the clergy!"

His voice faded. I went to open my door. The house was full of strange shadows, creakings, and murmurs. It had an unnatural light about it. Footfalls were heavy, voices muted. Aunt Cumsee's sister, Cary May, was already belowstairs. Aunt Cumsee's room was below mine. If I put my ear to the floorboard, I could hear the two sisters. Cary May's voice was sharp and strong, Aunt Cumsee's low and familiar.

"If the Lord wants me, I's ready," I heard Aunt Cumsee say.

"Lord gonna have to git by me first," her sister responded. "You there, Prince! More heated bricks! More blankets!"

From outside came the sound of carts rumbling by on the street, taking away the dead. Then I heard a rap on the front door. Dr. Sprague! I stepped out into the hall and peered over the banister.

"Good to see you, Doctor," I heard Mr. Wheatley say. "Good of you to come. You look weary, man. Have you eaten?"

"I've had naught but a piece of bread and a cup of wine all day."

"You shall sit by the fire, rest, and eat."

"My requirements are modest. Anything will do."

Nathaniel summoned Sulie to get a dish of meat and bread. "And some claret!" he ordered.

"Tell me," Mr. Wheatley urged, "is the danger yet past?"

"All who wish to be inoculated will be obliged," the elderly man said. "The scourge has spread across the River Charles. Mayhap it is God's blessing that Harvard Hall burned. The students were sent home."