Weepin' Time

It was late afternoon when field hands finally completed seeding Field #16 at Butler Island. On a signal from Driver Nero, Frank partially opened the inlet trunk leading from the main canal, and water slowly poured onto the field. Using wooden boards, the hands diverted the water so that it flowed mainly down a small ditch at the edge of the field before entering between the rows of newly planted rice. Once the water was smoothly flowing down the rows, the trunk was opened wider—making the flow faster, but not fast enough to disturb the planted seeds. At the point when the entire field had a shallow covering of water, the trunk was opened fully, and the water poured in rapidly. Then, as the water reached a depth of eight inches, the trunk was closed and the water shut off.

This process took a little more than four hours and was done while the Altamaha River was at high tide. It was the sprout flow for Field #16. This flow would remain on the field for about ten days, giving the newly planted seeds time to germinate and sprout to a height of six to eight inches. The sprout flow was the first of four separate floodings during the rice cultivation cycle, and it was the most difficult to administer, since great care had to be taken not to disturb the newly planted seeds. On this occasion, the flow had gone well, and Frank was pleased.

On his way home, he stopped by the cookhouse to pick up his evening meal, which the cook had saved for him in a wooden piggin. He then proceeded up the row of cabins to #9, on the right-hand side of the settlement road.

When he entered, he was greeted by his wife, Betty, and their two children: Ishmael, age three, and Phoebe, age one.

“Pappy, Pappy, you’s home,” exclaimed Ishmael as he ran and grabbed Frank by the legs.

“I sho’ is,” said Frank as he lifted Ishmael with one arm, while carefully balancing his meal in his other. “Sho’ good to see you!” He handed Betty his piggin and gave her a kiss. “Sho’ good to see you, too,” he said.

“Come and set down and eat yo’ dinner and tell us how yo’ day went,” said Betty.

“Well, it went real good. De flow on #16 went widout a hitch—best I’ve done! You know yo’ ol’ man is gettin’ pretty good at bein’ a trunk minder, don’t you? Heck, when I first started doing it, Headman Jack used to always be dar looking over my shoulder. Now he don’t even show up no mo’.”

“I know it. I’se awful proud of you. We’s all proud of you,” said Betty.

As a young boy, Frank had been trained as a carpenter, specializing in the construction of trunks. Four years ago, though, he had been made a trunk minder. It was a role he had adapted well to, and within just two years he had been promoted to head trunk minder, responsible for operating trunks on the entire plantation. He had an innate ability for determining the appropriate timing for flooding and draining operations. And Headman Jack relied heavily on his judgment in making those decisions.

XXXX

A week later Frank came home late again. When he opened the cabin door, he was shocked to find Betty wrapped in a blanket, cowering in the corner of the room, crying. Raylin and London were there trying to comfort her.

“My goodness, what’s wrong?” he asked as he rushed to her side, taking her in his arms.

Betty was hysterical and couldn’t speak. Raylin quickly interjected, “Somethin’ terrible’s happened; she’s been raped.”

“Raped! How? Who?” demanded Frank.

“By Massa King,” replied Raylin.

“Oh no! My dear, dear wife, I’se so sorry,” said Frank, as he hugged her even harder. “Don’t you worry, everythin’s gonna be all right.”

It took several minutes before Betty calmed down enough to speak. “I don’t know how it happened. I’se busy doin’ my work hoein’ in de tomato garden, when Massa King come up and ses he wants me to go wid him into de hay barn. I thought it was mighty strange, but I followed him in. Once we’s inside, he started grabbin’ at me and tearin’ my clothes. He said he’d been eyin’ me for some time and he wanted to have me. I tried fightin’ him off, tellin’ him I was a married woman and couldn’t do what he wanted. It didn’t matter none to him. He said if I didn’t submit he’d beat me, and take my chillun’ away from me, too. I just didn’t have no choice.”

“Dear, it ain’t yo’ fault,” said Raylin. “Massa King’s an evil man. He don’t have no regard fo’ no human bein’.”

“It ain’t right fo’ him to do something like dis,” said Frank in a strong voice. “He cain’t just take ’nother man’s wife and do anythin’ he wants wid her. He’s gotta be punished!” Standing upright, with his fists clenched, he added “I’se gonna kill him! I’ll do it wid my bare hands if I have to.”

Seeing rage in Frank’s eyes, London rose quickly, put his arm over his shoulder, and said, “Calm down now, Frank. You gotta keep yo’ senses ’bout you. It ain’t gonna do no good to go off yo’ rocker.”

“Go off my rocker? What would you do if de same thing happened to Raylin, here?”

“I’d do nothin’. I couldn’t do nothin’. An’ neither can you. De white man’s power is too great. You must never fo’get dat he owns you. He owns all of us, an’ we gotta do what he tells us, or he’ll hurt us all. We is niggers, an’ that’s all dar is to it.”

“But he deserves to die fo’ what he done!”

“I know, I know. An’ if you killed him, what do you think would happen den? You’d be hung up at de nearest tree ’fore you could blink an eye. Den what would happen to Betty an’ yo’ chillun? Who’d look after dem?”

“I knows you’s right, London, but it pains me not to get even wid dat evil man.”

“I knows, but it best you let things lie.”

XXXX

Frank succeeded in not having any contact with Junior for several days following the incident. He didn’t know what he’d do if they met.

A week later, he didn’t find Betty at home when he again arrived late from work—no children either. He began searching the settlement, asking everyone he met if they knew her whereabouts. Eventually, he found the children at the cabin of the head nursery keeper. She had taken them home with her when Betty hadn’t shown up to get them at the end of the day. Betty couldn’t be found anywhere.

Finally, through a contact Raylin had with a member of the housekeeping staff, word came that Betty was with Massa King at the overseer’s house. Frank was livid, and fearful for her well-being, but he managed to control himself. All he could do was hope that she’d be all right … and wait up for her. It was near midnight when she came in through their cabin door, crying. She had been raped again.

This time he knew he couldn’t remain passive. Something had to be done to punish this man and stop him from ever doing it again...