Read Online Go Tell It on the Mountain by James Baldwin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James Baldwin
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Brother Elisha tonight—I’m going to have to give you a little correction. You just wait till I wash my hands.”
“Ain’t no need to wash your hands if you come here to work. Just take hold of that mop and put some soap and water in the bucket.”
“Lord,” said Elisha, running water into the sink, and talking, it seemed, to the water, “that sure is a sassy nigger out there. I sure hope he don’t get hisself hurt one of these days, running his mouth thataway. Look like he just
won’t
stop till somebody busts him in the eye.”
He sighed deeply, and began to lather his hands. “Here I come running all the way so he wouldn’t bust a gut lifting one of them chairs, and all he got to say is ‘put some water in the bucket.’ Can’t do nothing with a nigger nohow.” He stopped and turned to face John. “Ain’t you got no manners, boy? You better learn how to talk to old folks.”
“You better get out here with that mop and pail. We ain’t got all night.”
“Keep on,” said Elisha. “I see I’m going to have to give you your lumps tonight.”
He disappeared. John heard him in the toilet, and then over the thunderous water he heard him knocking things over in the back room.
“
Now
what you doing?”
“Boy, leave me alone. I’m fixing to work.”
“It sure sounds like it.” John dropped his broom and walked into the back. Elisha had knocked over a pile of camp chairs, folded in the corner, and stood over them angrily, holding the mop in his hand.
“I keep telling you not to hide that mop back there. Can’t nobody get at it.”
“I always get at it. Ain’t everybody as clumsy as you.”
Elisha let fall the stiff gray mop and rushed at John, catching him off balance and lifting him from the floor. With both arms tightening around John’s waist he tried to cut John’s breath, watching him meanwhile with a smile that, as John struggled and squirmed, became a set, ferocious grimace. With both hands John pushed and pounded against the shoulders and biceps of Elisha, and tried to thrust with his knees against Elisha’s belly. Usually such a battle was soon over, since Elisha was so much bigger and stronger and as a wrestler so much more skilled; but tonight John was filled with a determination not to be conquered, or at least to make the conquest dear. With all the strength that was in him he fought against Elisha, and he was filled with a strength that was almost hatred. He kicked, pounded, twisted, pushed, using his lack of size to confound and exasperate Elisha, whose damp fists, joined at the small of John’s back, soon slipped. It was a deadlock; he could not tighten his hold, John could not break it. And so they turned, battling in the narrow room, and the odor of Elisha’s sweat was heavy in John’s nostrils. He saw the veins rise on Elisha’s forehead and in his neck; his breath became jagged and harsh, and the grimace on his face became more cruel; and John, watching these manifestations of his power, was filled with a wild delight. They stumbled against the folding-chairs, and Elisha’s foot slipped and his hold broke. They stared at each other, half grinning. John slumped to the floor, holding his head between his hands.
“I didn’t hurt you none, did I?” Elisha asked.
John looked up. “Me? No, I just want to catch my breath.”
Elisha went to the sink, and splashed cold water on his face and neck. “I reckon you going to let me work now,” he said.
“It wasn’t
me
that stopped you in the first place.” He stood up. He found that his legs were trembling. He looked at Elisha, who was drying himself on the towel. “You teach me wrestling one time, okay?”
“No, boy,” Elisha said, laughing, “I don’t want to wrestle with
you
. You too strong for me.” And he began to run hot water into the great pail.
John walked past him to the front and picked up his broom. In a moment Elisha followed and began mopping near the door. John had finished sweeping, and he
“Ain’t no need to wash your hands if you come here to work. Just take hold of that mop and put some soap and water in the bucket.”
“Lord,” said Elisha, running water into the sink, and talking, it seemed, to the water, “that sure is a sassy nigger out there. I sure hope he don’t get hisself hurt one of these days, running his mouth thataway. Look like he just
won’t
stop till somebody busts him in the eye.”
He sighed deeply, and began to lather his hands. “Here I come running all the way so he wouldn’t bust a gut lifting one of them chairs, and all he got to say is ‘put some water in the bucket.’ Can’t do nothing with a nigger nohow.” He stopped and turned to face John. “Ain’t you got no manners, boy? You better learn how to talk to old folks.”
“You better get out here with that mop and pail. We ain’t got all night.”
“Keep on,” said Elisha. “I see I’m going to have to give you your lumps tonight.”
He disappeared. John heard him in the toilet, and then over the thunderous water he heard him knocking things over in the back room.
“
Now
what you doing?”
“Boy, leave me alone. I’m fixing to work.”
“It sure sounds like it.” John dropped his broom and walked into the back. Elisha had knocked over a pile of camp chairs, folded in the corner, and stood over them angrily, holding the mop in his hand.
“I keep telling you not to hide that mop back there. Can’t nobody get at it.”
“I always get at it. Ain’t everybody as clumsy as you.”
Elisha let fall the stiff gray mop and rushed at John, catching him off balance and lifting him from the floor. With both arms tightening around John’s waist he tried to cut John’s breath, watching him meanwhile with a smile that, as John struggled and squirmed, became a set, ferocious grimace. With both hands John pushed and pounded against the shoulders and biceps of Elisha, and tried to thrust with his knees against Elisha’s belly. Usually such a battle was soon over, since Elisha was so much bigger and stronger and as a wrestler so much more skilled; but tonight John was filled with a determination not to be conquered, or at least to make the conquest dear. With all the strength that was in him he fought against Elisha, and he was filled with a strength that was almost hatred. He kicked, pounded, twisted, pushed, using his lack of size to confound and exasperate Elisha, whose damp fists, joined at the small of John’s back, soon slipped. It was a deadlock; he could not tighten his hold, John could not break it. And so they turned, battling in the narrow room, and the odor of Elisha’s sweat was heavy in John’s nostrils. He saw the veins rise on Elisha’s forehead and in his neck; his breath became jagged and harsh, and the grimace on his face became more cruel; and John, watching these manifestations of his power, was filled with a wild delight. They stumbled against the folding-chairs, and Elisha’s foot slipped and his hold broke. They stared at each other, half grinning. John slumped to the floor, holding his head between his hands.
“I didn’t hurt you none, did I?” Elisha asked.
John looked up. “Me? No, I just want to catch my breath.”
Elisha went to the sink, and splashed cold water on his face and neck. “I reckon you going to let me work now,” he said.
“It wasn’t
me
that stopped you in the first place.” He stood up. He found that his legs were trembling. He looked at Elisha, who was drying himself on the towel. “You teach me wrestling one time, okay?”
“No, boy,” Elisha said, laughing, “I don’t want to wrestle with
you
. You too strong for me.” And he began to run hot water into the great pail.
John walked past him to the front and picked up his broom. In a moment Elisha followed and began mopping near the door. John had finished sweeping, and he
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