Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: HISTORY (03/10/22)
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TITLE: Epiphany | Previous Challenge Entry
By Arlene Baker
03/15/22 -
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His father’s parting words as he had boarded the ship to America echoed in his brain. “From seed to sewing,” Mr. Thomas, owner of a large cotton mill in northern England, had said. “I want you to see it all, son. It will make you a better businessman by and by.”
How Edward had anticipated the opportunity to spend a year with a distant relative, who’d defected during the ill-fated American Revolution and made his mark in cotton. He always gave Edward’s father the best prices. Both had profited from the partnership.
His 18-year-old shoulders drooped as he walked down the gangway to his waiting parents. His father guided him to the family coach for the long overland travel home. Edward noted the smart looking horses.
“Finest horseflesh I’ve seen in our parts,” his father boasted. “Only the best for your mother. For the family. Got them for a good price, too.”
“Why are you so silent?” Mrs. Thomas asked, placing a hand on her grown son’s knee. “Are you ill from the voyage?”
“No, mother. Unless you count here.” He laid a hand over his heart.
“Why should you be troubled?” Mr. Thomas frowned. “Were you treated ill? Surely, not by my family.”
“Not at all. Only …”
“Only what, son?”
“Uncle owns slaves. It’s not right.”
“It’s a necessary evil,” his dad soothed. “Besides, I’m sure your uncle is a good master.”
“Good! How can anyone be considered good who owns people?”
Mr. Thomas scowled. His wife shook her head. Both left Edward to his thoughts.
A few days later, Edward accompanied his father to their mill.
“You know your way around,” Mr. Thomas said as they descended the carriage. “I need to stop by the office for a bit.”
Edward hurried into the nearest building. Against his father’s many warnings, he’d befriended a younger boy, who worked as a scavenger. Scavengers worked around the machinery, sweeping up dust and collecting cotton fluff. One careless moment, and a scavenger could lose hair, fingers, a hand or even his life.
“Good money in fluff,” his father often said. “Waste not, want not.”
“What happened to Peter?” Edward asked on their ride home.
“Who?”
“Peter. He’s one of your scavengers.”
“You befriended the help?” Mr. Thomas’ face darkened. “How often have I told you...”
“He’s just a boy,” Edward choked. “He can’t be more than 9 or 10.”
“It is none of your concern, son.”
Edward pinched his eyes shut. Peter must’ve got caught in the moving machinery.
“That kind of thinking will ruin you, son.”
Edward opened his eyes to find his father studying him.
“In what way, sir?” Peter blushed at his own boldness.
“How do you think we got where we are? By being soft? No, son. Business is business. A good businessman must make tough decisions.” He pointed out the carriage window to a man pulling a cart, shoulders stooped, feet dragging. “Is that what you want for yourself? Your children?”
Edward studied the man for a few seconds before shaking his head.
“What happened to Peter?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Surely, you know.”
“No, I don’t. That is what I pay my foreman for. He looks after all the workers.”
“And, when one cannot work?”
“They have broken the contract. They must leave.”
“You’ve thrown Peter back on the street?” Edward gasped.
“How do I know?” Mr. Thomas bellowed. “He signed a contract. If he could no longer work, he must go. That’s real life, boy. Get used to it.”
“Even Uncle doesn’t do that.” He fisted both hands.
“Do what?”
“Throw away his people. He allows old negroes to stay until they die.” Tears clouded his vision. “I was so angry at Uncle for owning people but this is worse – much worse!”
“How dare you be so impertinent?” Mr. Thomas slapped his knee. Edward pounded on the roof of the carriage. Immediately it stopped. Edward threw open the door. His father reached out a hand to detain him. He pushed it away and leapt to the ground.
“Oh, God, oh God,” he sobbed, fleeing, as his father’s enraged shouts faded. “Forgive us, forgive…”
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