Part 10 (1/2)

But he could not rest. For there was another thing bigger than the tiredness--and this was the strong true purpose.

He would think of this purpose until sometimes, after a long day and night of work, he would become blank so that he would forget for a minute just what the purpose was. And then it would come to him again and he would be restless and eager to take on a new task. But the words often stuck in his mouth, and his voice now was hoa.r.s.e and not loud as it had been before. He pushed the words into the sick and patient faces of the Negroes who were his people.

Often he talked to Mr. Singer. With him he spoke of chemistry and the enigma of the universe. Of the infinitesimal sperm and the cleavage of the ripened egg. Of the complex million-fold division of the cells. Of the mystery of living matter and the simplicity of death. And also he spoke with him of race.

'My people were brought from the great plains, and the dark, green jungles,' he said once to Mr. Singer. 'On the long chained journeys to the coast they died by the thousands. Only the strong survived. Chained in the foul s.h.i.+ps that brought them here they died again. Only the hardy Negroes with will could live. Beaten and chained and sold on the block, the least of these strong ones perished again. And finally through the bitter years the strongest of my people are still here. Their sons and daughters, their grandsons and great grandsons.'

'I come to borrow and I come to ask a favor,' Portia said.

Doctor Copeland was alone in his kitchen when she walked through the hall and stood in the doorway to tell him this. Two weeks had pa.s.sed since William had been sent away. Portia was changed. Her hair was not oiled and combed as usual, her eyes were bloodshot as though she had partaken of strong drink. Her cheeks were hollow, and with her sorrowful, honey-colored face she truly resembled her mother now.

'You know them nice white plates and cups you have?'

'You may have them and keep them.'

'No, I only wants to borrow. And also I come here to ask a favor of you.'

'Anything you wish,' said Doctor Copeland.

Portia sat down across the table from her father. First I suppose I better explain. Yesdiddy I got this here message from Grandpapa saying they all coming in tomorrow and spend the night and part of Sunday with us. Course they been mighty worried about Willie, and Grandpapa feel like us all ought to get together again. He right, too. I sure do want to see our kinfolks again. I been mighty homesick since Willie been gone.'

'You may have the plates and anything else you can find around here,' Doctor Copeland said. 'But hold up your shoulders, Daughter. Your carriage is bad.'

'It going to be a real reunion. You know this is the first time Grandpapa have spent the night in town for twenty years. He haven't ever slept outside of his own home except two times in his whole life. And anyway he kind of nervous at night. All during the dark he have to get up and drink water and be sure the childrens is covered up and all right. I a little worried about if Grandpapa will be comfortable here.'

'Anything of mine you think you will need--'

'Course Lee Jackson bringing them in,' said Portia. 'And with Lee Jackson it going to take them all day to get here. I not expecting them till around supper-time. Course Grandpapa always so patient with Lee Jackson he wouldn't make him hurry none.'

'My soul! Is that old mule still alive? He must be fully eighteen years old.'

'He even older than that. Grandpapa been working him now for twenty years. He done had that mule so long he always say it just like Lee Jackson is one of his blood kin. He understand and love Lee Jackson like he do his own grandchildrens. I never seen a human who know so good what a animal is thinking as Grandpapa. He haves a close feeling for everthing that walks and eats.'

'Twenty years is a long time to work a mule.'

'It sure is. Now Lee Jackson is right feeble. But Grandpapa sure do take good care of him. When they plows out in the hot sun Lee Jackson haves a great big straw hat on his head just like Grandpapa--with holes cut for his ears. That mule's straw hat is a real joke, and Lee Jackson won't budge a step when he going to plow without that hat is on his head.'

Doctor Copeland took down the white china dishes from the shelf and began to wrap them in a newspaper. 'Have you enough pots and pans to cook all the food you will need?'

'Plenty,' Portia said. 'I not going to any special trouble.

Granpapa, he Mr. Thoughtful hisself--and he always bring in something to help out when the fambly come to dinner. I only going to have plenty meal and cabbage and two pounds of nice mullet.'

'Sounds good.'

Portia laced her nervous yellow fingers together. 'There one thing I haven't told you yet. A surprise. Buddy going to

be here as well as Hamilton. Buddy just come back from Mobile. He helping out on the farm now.'

'It has been five years since I last saw Karl Marx.'

'And that just what I come to ask you about,' said Portia. 'You remember when I walked in the door I told you I come to borrow and to ask a favor.'

Doctor Copeland cracked the points of his fingers. 'Yes.'

'Well, I come to see if I can't get you to be there tomorrow at the reunion. All your childrens but Willie going to be there.

Seem to me like you ought to join us. I sure will be glad if you come.'

Hamilton and Karl Marx and Portia--and William. Doctor Copeland removed his spectacles and pressed his fingers against his eyelids. For a minute he saw the four of them very plainly as they were a long time ago. Then he looked up and straightened his gla.s.ses on his nose. Thank you,' he said. 'I will come.'

That night he sat alone by the stove in the dark room and remembered. He thought back to the time of his childhood.

His mother had been born a slave, and after freedom she was a washerwoman. His father was a preacher, who had once known John Brown. They had taught him, and out of the two or three dollars they had earned each week they saved. When he was seventeen years old they had sent him North with eighty dollars hidden in his shoe. He had worked in a blacksmith's shop and as a waiter and as a bellboy in a hotel.

And all the while he studied and read and went to school. His father died and his mother did not live long without him. After ten years of struggle he was a doctor and he knew his mission and he came South again. He married and made a home. He went endlessly from house to house and spoke the mission and the truth. The hopeless suffering of his people made in him a madness, a wild and evil feeling of destruction. At times he drank strong liquor and beat his head against the floor. In his heart there was a savage violence, and once he grasped the poker from the hearth and struck down his wife. She took Hamilton, Karl Marx, William, and Portia with her to her father's home. He wrestled in his spirit and fought down the evil blackness. But Daisy did not come back to him. And eight years later when she died his sons were not children any more and they did not return to him. He was left an old man in an empty house.

Promptly at five o'clock the next afternoon he arrived at the house where Portia and Highboy lived. They resided in the part of town called Sugar Hill, and the house was a narrow cottage with a porch and two rooms. From inside there was a babble of mixed voices. Doctor Copeland approached stiffly and stood in the doorway holding his shabby felt hat in his hand.

The room was crowded and at first he was not noticed. He sought the faces of Karl Marx and Hamilton. Besides them there was Grandpapa and two children who sat together on the floor. He was still looking into the faces of his sons when Portia perceived him standing in the door. 'Here Father,' she said.

The voices stopped. Grandpapa turned around in his chair. He was thin and bent and very wrinkled. He was wearing the same greenish-black suit that he had worn thirty years before at his daughter's wedding. Across his vest there was a tarnished bra.s.s watch chain. Karl Marx and Hamilton looked at each other, then down at the floor, and finally at their father.

'Benedict Mady--' said the old man. 'Been a long time. A real long time.'

'Ain't it, though!' Portia said. 'This here the first reunion us is all had in many a year. Highboy, you get a chair from the kitchen. Father, here Buddy and Hamilton.' Doctor Copeland shook hands with his sons. They were both tall and strong and awkward. Against their blue s.h.i.+rts and overalls their skin had the same rich brown color as did Portia's. They did not look him in the eye, and in their faces there was neither love nor hate. It sure is a pity everybody couldn't come--Aunt Sara and Jim and all the rest,' said Highboy. 'But this here is a real pleasure to us.'

'Wagon too full,' said one of the children. 'Us had to walk a long piece cause the wagon too full anyways.'

Grandpapa scratched Ms ear with a matchstick. 'Somebody got to stay home.'

Nervously Portia licked her dark, thin lips. 'It our Willie I thinking about. He were always a big one for any kind of party or to-do. My mind just won't stay off our Willie.'

Through the room there was a quiet murmur of agreement.

The old man leaned back in his chair and waggled his head up and down. 'Portia, Hon, supposing you reads to us a little while. The word of G.o.d sure do mean a lot in a time of trouble.'

Portia took up the Bible from the table in the center of the room. 'What part you want to hear now, Grandpapa?'

'It all the book of the Holy Lord. Just any place your eye fall on will do.'

Portia read from the Book of Luke. She read slowly, tracing the words with her long, limp finger. The room was still.

Doctor Copeland sat on the edge of the group, cracking his knuckles, his eyes wandering from one point to another. The room was very small, the air close and stuffy. The four walls were cluttered with calendars and crudely painted advertis.e.m.e.nts from magazines. On the mantel there was a vase of red paper roses. The fire on the hearth burned slowly and the wavering light from the oil lamp made shadows on the wall. Portia read with such slow rhythm that the words slept in Doctor Copeland's ears and he was drowsy. Karl Marx lay sprawled upon the floor beside the children. Hamilton and Highboy dozed. Only the old man seemed to study the meaning of the words. Portia finished the chapter and closed the book. 'I done pondered over this thing a many a time.' said Grandpapa. The people in the room came out of their drowsiness. 'What? ' asked Portia. 'It this way. You recall them parts Jesus raising the dead and curing the sick? ' 'Course we does, sir,' said Highboy deferentially. 'Many a day when I be plowing or working,' Grandpapa said slowly, 'I done thought and reasoned about the time when Jesus going to descend again to this earth. 'Cause I done always wanted it so much it seem to me like it will be while I am living. I done studied about it many a time. And this here the way I done planned it. I reason I will get to stand before Jesus with all my childrens and grandchildrens and great grandchildrens and kinfolks and friends and I say to him, 'Jesus Christ, us is all sad colored peoples. 'And then he will place His holy hand upon our heads and straightway us will be white as cotton. That the plan and reasoning that been in my heart a many and a many a time.'

A hush fell on the room. Doctor Copeland jerked the cuff of his sleeves and cleared his throat. His pulse beat too fast and his throat was tight Sitting in the corner of the room he felt isolated and angry and alone.

'Has any of you ever had a sign from Heaven?' asked Grandpapa.

'I has, sir,' said Highboy. 'Once when I were sick with the pneumonia I seen G.o.d's face looking out the fireplace at me. It were a large white man's face with a white beard and blue eyes.'