(New Orleans/ Episode #14 ((1-31-06)) Josh had gone to New Orleans in the summer of 1856, with Mr. Hightower. He spent most of his time on the Warf or pier area, it brought back old memories of his childhood. His face darkly carved like a bulldog, big feet, large hands, beady eyes, and wide forehead. He walked about like an ape, hands swinging every which way, looking but not looking. Perhaps looking for something he might recognize from his childhood, when he and his mother walked the dock area. He had been widowed for a while (widowed in the sense he did not know where his wife was, perhaps dead, she ran off with someone) and saw many women walk by, even thought to himself: '...what would I say to her?' "Ha honey," one Negress said to him, "follow me, I'll warm you bones for you...give you some whisky!" He did a double take on that word...whiskey. "Damn squirrel, come ov'er her..." "...wht yu call me hony?" said the young Negress in revolt. "Yous not white yous kno' so wtch-yor tonge." Her dress was pinkly, and she had a seductive smile and laugh; Josh had Hightower's money to buy some hoes, shovels, axes, and a plow for the plantation. His voice-hung back with a laugh" "Dies slow...is wat to dislow," and he followed her, "Mocks-me big nigger, i...s show you...!" she said as they sat down on a cot in a shack she had led him to, there Josh took several shots of whisky, and she slipped him a mickie. Fretfully, when Old Josh woke up she was gone and was sick; that evening Hightower found him staggering in Jackson Square, asked Old Josh for his money, the money he had leant him to purchase the merchandise, not seeing his hardware anyplace, looking around him some, not even a hoe, he knew something had happened. Old Josh was pale as a ghost, his head looking down, sitting on a bench like a droopy jellyfish, with no light in his eyes. "Pardon me, Josh," said Mr. Hightower again, touching him on the shoulder, towering down on Josh's head, "I don't mind you getting drunk on your own time, but mine I do, especially when you are carrying my money"; he said, as Josh tired to look up at Hightower, straining to do so. "I's be better on, when I gets some food, dats der alligator meat gits to me." Hightower looked surprised that Old Josh took off the shoes he barrowed him. "it's better yous keep it sir." "Stand up, up!" commanded Hightower, now pulling him by the arm, Josh confused, wired, his brow full of sweat, "Damn if the dog don't bite the hand that holds the bread," said Hightower, as they both walked in the French quarter. |
