My first view of America was of dirt and grime.
The place we were kept when we were taken off the ship was like a pen. It had a high fence around it. We heard voices, laughter, the sound of movement, children playing, people calling in greeting to one another, the shouting of people who sold fish, hammering and building going on, even music betimes. But we could see nothing.
We were kept to ourselves inside the walls of a building at night and brought out into the pen in the day.
After two days of this a man came to see us. His name was John Avery. Those men amongst us who had picked up enough of the Koomi language on ship interpreted for us. They also told us he worked for the man who owned our ship.
The man named John Avery stood in the middle of the pen with Captain Quinn, looking at us and sniffing something out of a gold box.
“Meanest cargo I ever saw,” he said.
We were to be sold the next day!
Word went around our compound and fear broke out like dysentery. We trembled from it. Obour and I clutched one another on that last night together. Tomorrow we would be separated. Likely we would never see each other again.
It was midsummer and the nights were hot. So those of us who wanted to, slept outside in the pen. I remember looking up at the stars in the sky and wondering if they were the same stars that shone over our home in Senegal. How could the stars I had always considered so beautiful grace the sky over this land called America? Where people were sold like cattle.
The next day, early, we were awakened and given some meal, and the women and men were washed. This was done by having buckets of water thrown at them. Then they were given osnaburg garments to put on.
Those set to the task of making the slaves look presentable did not bother with me or Obour. John Avery came by and scowled at us as we sat in a corner on some hemp.
“You want them brought out?” one of his men asked.
He shrugged. “Two small girls. What can they bring?”
All this was translated to us after they passed us by. And we breathed sighs of relief. We would not be sold this day!
But then, later, when the sale started, they brought us out anyway. All was confusion and fear and noise as, one by one, the nigras were put on a block for display and John Avery turned them around and talked about them. Men came to stand around them, to touch and feel them, to open their mouths, to pinch and peer. Then the bidding commenced.
I clung to Obour. What would I do if they put me up there with everyone gaping at me?
I should have starved myself to death, I decided. And Obour with me.
The slave market was next door to John Avery’s distillery. And the sale had been advertised. So people came not only to buy but also to see what manner of cargo Captain Quinn had brought this time. And they came for entertainment.
One by one the cargo of Captain Quinn’s ship was sold. Money exchanged hands. The satisfied customers left with their purchases in tow.
The sun was high. Obour and I cringed in a corner in some shade.
Then, of a sudden, a man stepped forward. “How much for that child?”
John Avery was taken with surprise. He made no reply. “Which? There are two,” he replied.
“The smaller one. My wife is in need of a domestic.”
John Avery laughed. “She’ll not get any work out of that one. All skin and bones, she is. Now, if you’ll come back tomorrow, I’ll have another lot for sale. More costly, of course, but better suited to your purposes.”
I did not understand much of this, of course, but I did know the stranger was gesturing at me. Tall and well dressed he was. And I, who knew nothing of the manners or customs of this America—even I sensed that he had dignity and kindness. And something else.
Power. Not the kind Captain Quinn had, where he shouted things and had men quivering. Not like first mate Kunkle’s, either, whose power was in his whip.
This man had no need to either shout or carry a whip. There was power in his demeanor. People stepped aside for him. Yet his voice was soft.
“I want that one,” he said. “How much?”
“Two pounds sterling,” Avery told him.
“Bring her forth,” the man said.
John Avery fastened a rope around my waist.
“No,” I said in my own language, “I don’t want to leave Obour.” Our hands reached out to each other.
And, strangely, then Obour smiled. “Go,” she said. “You’ll do well. He is a man of good parts.”
“But I want to stay with you!”
“Don’t worry for me. I’ll find a master. And someday we’ll see each other again. Be of good heart. Don’t dishonor your family.”
I was turned around then by John Avery. “Mind your manners,” he said sternly. “Here is your new master.” His words meant nothing to me. His gestures did.
I looked, for the first time, up into the blue, smiling eyes of John Wheatley.
“What’s her name?” he asked.
John Avery shrugged. “Don’t know. But she and that other one over there are the last of the lot from the Phillis.”
“Phillis,” John Wheatley said. “Her name is Phillis, then.”
John Avery shrugged.
“I’d like to see the other one,” another man said.
“You’ll find plenty of work in her,” John Avery said.
Then my new master held out his hand. I heard the other man say Tanner. They knew each other. They talked for a while. I heard the man who had said the word Tanner now say the word “Newport.”
I was shivering from fear, though the sun was hot. My lips were parched. My head throbbed. I was hungry and dirty. And I shrank in shame before these well-turned-out men who moved about with such ease and grace in this fearful place called America.
The men parted with smiles and good words. Then my master called out to someone. And my fear vanished. Out of a fearful thing with wheels pulled by creatures I’d never seen before came a young man with skin the color of mine.
“Prince, look what I found. She looks starving. Come, carry her into the carriage and we’ll get her home.”
“Lawd awmighty,” Prince said.
He looked to be about seventeen. He was garbed in Koomi clothing and he seemed very much at home in this place.
In a moment Prince scooped me up in his arms. “Lawd awmighty,” he said again. “She be light as a feather. But shakin’, Mr. Wheatley. This child shakin’ like a leaf.”
“Get the blanket,” came the reply.
I was put in the thing with wheels by the one called Prince, who then climbed up on a seat and yelled at the creatures. They started off.
I sank into the seat in my blanket. I couldn’t stop shaking, it seemed. But one good thing: Obour had been sold, too. She would have a home. But where? Then I remembered two words. Tanner. And Newport.
I kept repeating them over and over in my mind as I fell asleep.