James Marlon - John Crow's Devil

Clarence still a laugh?

Clarence take this thing make joke. Him still in him guilty brief and Mrs. Johnson still in her guilty brassiere. Nobody no put no clothes on them. Some man never see pokie like Mrs. Johnson own, which never bush up.

She trim her bush for Clarence.

Some of the woman them a size up Clarence and one of them remember she always sell him size-thirteen boot. Mrs. Smithfield hear that and start look down pon him brief harder. Is 6:00 but the sun was never hotter. The little girl them laugh them little girl laugh. The boy them point. Everybody come out to see it, even those who didn’t believe it.

What bout Pastor Bligh and the Widow woman?

Them never come.

Them goin get floggin next.

Mrs. Johnson start beg her husband so much that nuff people start to feel sorry for her. But then the Apostle remind we bout Bible Chapter Mark where the demons beg the Son of God, and if the Son of God did listen to all this begging, plenty people would be in Hell right now. That change we mind back.

She is the reason why the Devil take up residence in Gibbeah and we must cut it out! Cut it out! Cut it out! The Apostle also say that this is not just punishment but is also love, cause God punish who him love. That make we want the whipping worser. Then him point two finger at Brother Vixton.

Tell we what happen next although we know.

Vixton swing the whip and Mrs. Johnson scream like we never think she could scream. None of we ever get whipping yet, so none of we ever hear scream like that. Is not what we did think we was goin hear. Is not scream like when you dusting under the dresser and a rat jump out on you. Is not a scream like when you slam the door on you finger. Is not a scream like when you see thief in the backyard robbing you cabbage. Is something else. Like when Mrs. Fracas hear say the white people cows trample her little son and kill him.

By the third lash we see that this really a happen. Is ten lick she fi get and by lick number six the leather cut through her back and her black skin turn red. By number eight lash she stop scream, but she start drip. By number ten her knee them buckle and she out. She start to swing as if breeze pushing her. The rope around her wrist as white as where the skin start to strip off. Her eye them shut.

Clarence was to get twenty lash. All the time the Apostle giving God thanks, Clarence a cuss and cuss and bringing down Hellfire and damnation pon everybody in the village. The Apostle wave him two finger and Brother Vixton swing the whip like a hatchet chopping down a tree. Clarence chomp him teeth hard and shut him eye tight. Then him ask the Brother if that is the best that him can do.

That must did make Brother Vixton whip him worser.

True-true. Clarence start fight, but him couldn’t do nothing but bruise him wrist under the rope. The white rope turning red. Mrs. Johnson eye still shut. Clarence not saying nothing, but him grind him teeth every time the leather lash him. By lash eight, him skin all cut up and him back look like when you slice up a pig. Vixton give him a extra hard lash and the front of Clarence brief explode with piss that run down him leg.

By lash thirteen, him gone from a white brief to a red brief. The people silent. Even the little pickney. Them either looking away or looking right past the cotton tree as if nobody swinging from it. Brother Jakes grab him boy and force him to look. Brother Vixton stop whipping and everybody just shudder with relief, but then him look pon the Apostle and the Apostle raise two finger. By lash fifteen, Clarence leg them start buckle too. Him head drop down and both him and Mrs. Johnson start swing. Mr. Johnson turn away, but the Apostle grab him and turn him round back. By lash twenty, the whip split. The Apostle say that God already will Vixton to make another bullwhip.

God judgment done. Some of we start scratch we back and everybody feel a way. The Apostle say this is a great day for Gibbeah cause we stand up for the Son of God who name we not to say. And we do a brave thing by saying no to sin. We see Mrs. Johnson blood and Clarence blood and the two of them blood mix together and blood up the cotton tree, the ground, and the whole cemetery. This is the first time it feel like not even a dead man place have any peace. The Apostle say to leave them til 10:00 in the night and then take them down and clean them up. Mrs. Smithfield shudder when him tell she fi clean them up.

God judgment a no play-play judgment.

God not romping with we.

We go home, leaving them pon the tree. None of we have nothing to say, so we just go into we own house and shut the door. Mr. Johnson go home and people who live near him say him cry all night.

The next morning them find another calf.

The Rum Preacher woke up ravenous. The Widow readied herself like an eager virgin. The table was laid before him and he ate with fury. They said nothing. He gorged himself on mackerel stewed in coconut milk, johnnycakes, roasted breadfruit, steamed cabbage, strips of bacon, potato pudding, and coffee, which she had roasted herself. The Widow had placed her chair in the room’s darkest spot. From there she looked on as the Rum Preacher came back to life. His hunger consumed the table, leaving upturned dishes and spilled gravy in his wake. And he wanted more.

Deacon Pinckney’s son found the calf. Hopping and skipping like a masterless gig, the child tripped over its hoof. Not afraid, he prodded it. The calf refused to come back to life, which left the boy with no choice but to revive it with his magic wand, just as Mandrake did in the comic strip. But the wand was no help either. The boy thought the calf strange, lying dead in the cornfield with the head upside-down. Lucinda saw it next and immediately threw herself to the ground in a fit of intercession for the soul of Gibbeah. Preceded silently by The Five, Apostle York came to see.

“Anybody knows whose cow this is? Whose brand is that? On the backside, whose brand?”

“Massa Fergie, Apostle. Him keep them for the MacMillans in Brownstown.”

“The MacMillans?”

“The MacMillans, sah. A white family who live down a Brownstown. Them rich plenty.”

“Rich?”

“Like Solomon, Apostle.”

“And white, you say?”

“Like Santa Claus belly.”

“So is white people, mammon-lovers, bringing the Devil to Gibbeah?”

“Me no know if them like fish, sah.”

“What? No, not salmon, mammon.”

“If you say so a so, Apostle.”

“Find me this … this Massa Fergie. He comes to church?”

“Him used to, sah, but when lightning strike the … when, ah … it … ah … kill the other man, him take over the blacksmith shop and leave the cows to do what them do.”

“I see. Anyway, bring this man to me.”

By now a crowd had gathered around them, breaking corn plants with their feet. A few confirmed that this was indeed obeah let loose. Others were just relieved that there was something, some new distress, to take their minds off the smell of whipped flesh. Wickedness was begetting wickedness. The Five pulled the old man from the crowd and presented him to the Apostle.

“Good morning, my brother. Is this your cow?”

The man said no, figuring without fully knowing that whatever yes could mean, it certainly wasn’t good. He repeated no; after all, there was no way any cow of his could have been born with an upside-down head and he not notice. The Apostle kicked the cow’s head and Gibbeah shook. He pointed at the brand on the cow’s backside.

“I’m no Balaam, but this ass says different.”

The old man stooped down to look. Nerves came down on him in a flush. He knew he was being watched. He spat on the ground. “Me say is not my cow.”