Free The Emancipation of Robert Sadler by Robert Sadler, Marie Chapian

anything, and if they wanted to fight, I was not allowed to hit back. If I had something in my hand, they could grab it if they wanted to, and I was not to protest.
    Yet the children were kind to me. At mealtimes they often sneaked food from the table to give to me. They would sneak sandwiches and cake and sometimes a slice of ham or other meat. I gobbled the food hungrily, and they would laugh with delight to see me go at it.
    One cold afternoon we were playing in the music room when Mistress Beal came in. “Mama,” Juanita asked suddenly, “how come Robert’s skin is dark and ours is white?”
    Mistress answered coolly, “Because Robert and his people were created to be the white man’s slave. They are dark because they sinned against God and God punished them and made them servants to the white man.”
    I listened in alarm.
    â€œThey sinned, and that’s why they’re meant to serve the white man. It’s in the Bible.”
    The Bible! The book Mama told me about.
    â€œAre there any niggers in heaven, Mama?”
    â€œIf there are, dear, they’re serving the white folk.”
    I lowered my head in shame. Juanita seemed embarrassed too. She was learning that Negroes were not considered real persons.
    â€œRobert don’t have a soul, honey,” Mistress said without blinking an eye. “Negroes don’t have souls. They are just like animals that way.”
    â€œDon’t Harriet have no soul neither?” asked Juanita.
    â€œNo, dear. Harriet’s a Negro, and Negroes don’t have souls.”
    Juanita looked as though she would cry. Mistress laughed softly. “Now, honey,” she cooed, “instead of putting on a sad face, you ought to thank the good Lord for giving you some niggers to take care of you.”
    â€œ. . . Yes, Mama.”
    We left the music room, and Juanita went upstairs to her room without a word. I went outside to the woodpile. Pearl must have told me wrong. Mama and Ella weren’t free and dancing with Jesus in heaven, after all. They were black slaves serving the white angels. Whatever our sin was to deserve such an awful fate, it must have been real bad.

9
    The winter days were long and I was worried about Pearl. On a grey, windy afternoon when there was a lot of activity around the Big House, I planned another escape to the quarter. Visitors were expected at the Big House that evening, and I was put to work cleaning the halls and the bathrooms. All day long tension filled the air. Mistress Beal was shouting orders, the house slaves were running around trying to obey them, the children were underfoot and misbehaving, and Mary Webb was throwing things in the kitchen. In my effort to avoid everybody, I got in everybody’s way. Not only did I receive the heel of Mistress Beal’s foot, but of Mary Webb’s and Harriet’s as well.
    â€œRobert, get outa here!”
    â€œRoberrrt! You brought in wet logs for the fire! Git out there an bring in dry logs!”
    â€œRobert, git over here!”
    â€œRobert, fetch some water!”
    â€œRoberrrt, scrub these pots!”
    â€œRobert, you ain’t nothin’ but somethin’ dumb!”
    I was made to scrub the wooden planks of the front porch and steps and the wooden walkway leading to the circular drive. My hands in the icy water were numb, but I hardly noticed it because I was so excited about seeing Pearl again. I planned to make my getaway to the quarter when everyone was asleep that night.
    Every once in a while I thought about Margie, and I wondered if they were treating her bad where they had taken her off to. I wondered if she was a house servant like me or in the field like Pearl. I didn’t let myself think about never seeing her again.
    When the chores were done, the house servants were allowed to eat supper in the kitchen—fatback fried crisp, corn bread, and molasses. I asked Big Mac some questions that he seemed to