Jacobian

A disobedient, annoying slave was never tolerated. A disruptive slave was never allowed to do, until the reason why for his disobedience was discovered all too late.

"Oh, John, I so look forward to dining with your parents this evening," the frowsy figure declared from her seat in the wagon. 

"Mother and Father always enjoy visits from your family, Martha. You know that," replied the dapper John. 

The wagon made its way on to the sunny plantation and toward the silhouetted main house located in the distance. 

"Oh, my. Palm Meadows has always looked so regal in the setting sun," Martha exclaimed, fanning herself. 

"Of course. Mother and Father have entertained European royalty here before." 

"Yes, I know." 

Martha continued to fan herself and looked out over the hillside, only to stop when she spied the slaves working in the field. It wasn't all the slaves picking the cotton that bothered her sensitive nature, it was the one in particular. He had seen the wagon coming and had made his way toward the edge of the field, nearest the road the wagon would travel. 

"Oh!" Martha shrieked in utter contempt. "There's that dreadful creature, that Jacobian. How I can't stand him."

"Again, he has made his way out of the field. I shall have to speak to Mr. Barnes, . . . ." John began. 

"Do so at once!" Martha interrupted. 

John didn't finish what he was saying, about keeping Jacobian away from the white women. Martha was furiously fanning herself. 

The wagon came near to the front of the estate. John climbed out to assist Martha with her departure. 

"Ed," John called to a dapperly attired servant, "tell Mr. Barnes I wish to discuss Jacobian with him once more."

Ed looked up rather fretfully, then answered quietly, "yessir." 

"Why, Martha Vickers, we're so glad to have you with us tonight. Did you enjoy your journey here?"

"Yes, I did, Mrs. Meadows, until I reached the road near the field and there was Jacobian watching me again."

"Oh, Jacobian again. Why won't he behave? You need to have him whipped, Arthur." 

"We can't do that just yet, Annabelle, until he browns up from working in the field. Initially he was a house slave, but he cause such disruption here, I had him moved to the field, where he should be dark and worthy of a beating in no time."

"Yes, I recall his behavior when I was here before," Martha replied. "Oh, how he terrified me so when he would watch me as I made my way about the house. I could bear it no longer."

"We shall have to sell him, father, if this continues. I cannot expect Martha to become my bride and live here with such an unruly slave upsetting her so."

"I quite agree, John," Arthur Meadows replied. "Here comes Barnes now. We'll see what he can do."

"I expect him to handle the matter sufficiently," John said, as he entered the home with his mother and Martha. 

As Arthur Meadows manservant, Ed stood on the porch to await his master's needs, but all the while, Ed was doing all he could to eavesdrop as Arthur spoke to Barnes. 

"I understand, Mr. Meadows, sir," Barnes said. "I think the matter with Jacobian has just gone too far. I've talked to him about staring at Miss Martha, her being such a beauty and all, but he persists at doing it. Maybe he could be blinded. Remove one eye perhaps?"

"I don't know if we need to go that far, Barnes. Jacobian is only one man. He just seems a bit off on his own. Maybe chain him up on the opposite side of the field for a while, so when he works, he'll stay over that away and not disturb Miss Martha." 

"I guess we can try that, Mr. Meadows, if you like," Barnes said as he departed. 

"Inside, Ed. We're ready to have drinks served."

"Yessir, Master Arthur." 

Arthur joined Annabelle, John and Martha in the sitting room. The mood seemed somewhat somber now. 

"Oh, it saddens me to see that portrait," Martha proclaimed.

"Our family, but with William," John said. 

"Oh, Mrs. Meadows, how I have spoken out of turn."

"Nonsense, child. We always think of William still being with us, from this portrait made if nothing else. After all, if he were still alive, you would be betrothed to William instead of John."

John looked down at his newly acquired drink in his hand and pressed his lips together. 

"I loved my brother dearly, Mother. You leave me feeling as tho I have stolen from him by marrying his intended." 

"Oh, no, John. You mustn't think such things," Martha said. She took a drink as well from Ed's tray. Ed moved on to Mrs. Meadows, Arthur Meadows getting his drink first, then Ed made his way out of the room. 

"We all loved William and were disheartened by the accident that took him from us," Arthur spoke up. "Had he not deemed it fit to venture into town and engage in that barroom drunken brawl, he might still be alive, instead of dying from knife and gun wounds in the dark night so long ago." 

"Poor William. Always so unafraid, he seemed. It was as tho he believed no harm could befall him," Arthur said. 

"Oh, my," Martha said, standing. 

"What's wrong, dearest?" John asked, nearing her. "Are you well?" 

"Yes, but I fear all this talk has me needing to excuse myself to the powder room." 

"Of course, my dear," Mrs. Meadows responded. 

Martha made her way to the far door and exited the room. 

"Well, if you will excuse me," Arthur Meadows began, "while we are waiting for dinner, I have business matters I could contend with." 

Now he too, departed the room, leaving only John and his mother looking up at the picture containing their lost loved one, William. 

Martha had made her way to the far room to freshen herself up. She dabbed some water upon her face and dried her face and hands on the towel. 

She then made her way to the chamber-pot to sufficiently relieve herself, hiking up her skirt, then pulling down her under garments. It seemed to have been a while since she had last been able to tend to such matters. She felt contentment in so much discharge. She straightened herself up, then made her way out of the location. She took a deep breath, washed her hands yet again, then turned to exit the main door, only to glance out the window. 

There was Jacobian, his big wide eyes watching her, unblinking. She looked at him, unmoving. When he seemed to move a bit to one side, Martha gave way with a frightful scream. Upon realizing what she was doing, Jacobian scampered off behind the nearby tree. 

Martha screamed again. And again. 

In no time, John had reached her. She was near faint. 

"Oh, John! It was Jacobian! He was watching me! He was watching me from the window! He was watching me!" 

John picked Martha up and carried her back to the main hall. 

"Goodness, whatever is the matter?" Mrs. Meadows asked. "That scream did give me such a fright." 

"It was Jacobian, Mother. He was watching Martha while she was in the powder room." 

"Good Heavens! Dreadful creature!" 

John placed Martha on the sofa. "Ed!" he called. "Ed!" 

The servant appeared. "Yessuh?" 

"Summon Mr. Barnes, Ed," John instructed. "We shall tend to the matter of Jacobian once and for all!" 

"What's wrong, Mr. John, suh?" 

"He was seen watching Martha while she was indisposed. We'll have this no longer!"

Ed looked worried. "Oh, Mr. John, suh. That was my fault. I summoned Jacobian from the field to warn him about making a nuisance of himself. I gave him the strictest warning, suh. Instead of returning to the field, he must have just gone around to see Miss Martha, suh. That's my fault, suh." 

"Well, regardless, it has gone too far!" John bellowed. "Summon Mr. Barnes at once!" 

By now, Mr. Meadows had returned to the hall where Mrs. Meadows and Martha resided. 

"Simply dreadful scream, Arthur. You didn't hear it?" Mrs. Meadows asked. 

"Why, no. I didn't," Mr. Meadows answered. "I was completely absorbed in tending to business issues." 

"You should have sold Jacobian long ago, Arthur."

"Martha, are you allright? I'll have Ed bring you some water." 

"I'm allright now, Mr. Meadows. Jacobian is such a dreadful figure. I find his presence so disturbing."

John returned to the group. Ed entered behind him. 

"I have instructed Mr. Barnes to tend to Jacobian at once. This ends now!" 

"Oh, Mr. John, I told you it was my fault Jacobian was up to the house." 

"Be silent, Ed, and fetch Miss Martha some water." 

The old servant did as instructed. 

"What did you tell Barnes to do, John?" 

"I told him do whatever was called for. We should have gotten rid of Jacobian years ago."   

"I never bothered selling Jacobian because Black Bertha was his mother, and she had been William and your nanny when you were small. I'm certain had William remained alive, he would have handled Jacobian succinctly, then William was killed and I just couldn't focus on Jacobian as a nuisance." 

"Well, he most certainly is one now. He all but has the same disregard for any harm befalling him as William had. I wonder if Barnes will be able to take care of the matter with any satisfaction? Why, if he --"

In that moment, John looked up at the family portrait on the wall once more. There they stood, their mother, their father, John and his beloved brother, William. John gazed upon the picture, unblinking. Without saying a word, he turned to his father. 

Arthur Meadows looked at John with an almost blank expression, as tho he was completely unaware of John's sudden realization. 

"John, . . . . "

"Be silent!" 

John now looked to his mother. He could see the comprehension she possessed. 

Finally, John looked to Martha Vickers. Dear, lovely Martha. The object of affection of one brother who would become the object of affection of another brother. She was the telling sign. Martha could only look back at John with the stark realization over which she just felt she had no control. 

John looked to the painting once more and at his brother, William. 

William, who he lost. The carefree William who made John look like such a good boy, but John adored him so. He felt lost when William was killed. He would have done anything to get him back. 

"William," John whispered. Anything to have his brother back. Even a facsimile. 

"I must stop Barnes!" John yelled, and fled from the room. He darted into the darkness with no concern that Martha or Mr. Meadows were calling after him. 

He raced further into the night, finally being guided by a nearby light from a burning fire. His lungs swelled as he ran, but he had to hurry. 
"Stop!" he cried out in the dark. "Stop!"

Under circumstances such as this, slaves had learned to stay hidden and secured, lest they be targeted next, but John's race by their houses brought a few out to see what was taking place that the young master would be in such a hurry. 

John got to the edge of the fire's radiance to see what he saw. A couple of large black slaves had actually followed him, deducing Master John wanted to rectify the situation-at-hand and lend their immediate assistance. 

John stumbled up to the center of the group and began screaming, "cut him down! Cut him down! Now!" 

Immediately the rope was cut, and the two black slaves moved forward to catch the figure. In the glow, an upraised hand slowly moved, giving a hint of life, however faint. 

One of the slaves removed the rope from about his neck and held his head. 

John was now kneeling before the figure and cradled him in his arms, tears streaming down his perspiring face, the blood smearing on his hands. Slowly the hand rose again to touch John's elbow. 

John looked into the big round eyes, one filled with blood, but saw the same big eyes that used to tease him when he was little and get him into trouble. Those same eyes that were never afraid, until the very end.