The Arrow of Freedom (2)
Three days after John Brown arrived at the plantation, I attended the club meeting where our noble gentleman planters gathered, just as I had scheduled in advance.
True to the name of the meeting, most of the members had gathered at Natchez’s massive horse racing track since the morning.
These men, who had nothing but money, usually spent their time betting on races or exchanging various pieces of information, but today was a little different.
Alexander Parer was the first to raise his voice passionately, pointing to the horses that would be running in today’s race.
“Gentlemen, who are we? We are the gentlemen who love horse racing more than anyone else in the Union and possess a keen eye for it. As someone who loves horse racing, I am now convinced that our Union’s horse racing is in no way inferior to those British bastards.”
“Hear, hear!”
I wondered what he was getting at, and it turned out to be the horse racing tournament proposal I had brought up at Cedar Grove last time.
I thought he was just discussing some trivial delusion, but it seemed he had been planning it much more seriously than I had expected.
“Shouldn’t we, in our Union, have at least one grand horse racing tournament that doesn’t fall behind England’s Derby, Guineas, or St. Leger? And if such a tournament were to be held, Natchez, Mississippi, should naturally be the host!”
“Oooooh!”
“I support it! If we pool our intentions together, we can certainly create the Natchez Stakes!”
Hmm, honestly, I don’t quite understand what they’re saying, but it seems to be discussed positively.
In my past life, there were people at work who were obsessed with horse racing, but I heard that the horse racing culture in Korea was quite different from the West.
Was it said that horse racing tournaments in England or America had immense viewership and popularity, enough to slap the cheeks of any major sport?
I also remember hearing that if you weren’t dressed in proper attire, you couldn’t even enter.
However, since the horse racing of 21st-century South Korea in my memory didn’t have that image yet, this atmosphere was still a bit unfamiliar to me.
Still, for the upper class of this era, enjoying horse racing and raising horses to aim for tournament victories was common sense and a duty.
“I will also gladly join in the Senator’s dream!”
Especially now, I have to pretend to fawn over Senator Parer to secure my alibi.
“Oh, Sett! I knew you would understand!”
“As a gentleman who loves horse racing, it is only natural that I should contribute to the further maturation of this country’s horse racing culture.”
As I diligently went along with them, Senator Parer, who was thoroughly excited, entered into a serious discussion about truly creating the Natchez Stakes.
John Quincy Toliver, an elderly planter smoking a cigar on one side, stroked his mustache and opened his mouth cautiously.
“I admire Senator Parer’s passion, but can we really beat those colts from Kentucky or the long-standing bloodlines of Virginia? Those people have been obsessed with horses for generations.”
A few nodded at his words. It was a valid concern.
No matter how high Mississippi’s wealth soared, it was still just an emerging powerhouse in the history and tradition of horse racing.
Judging that this was the opportunity, I immediately raised my voice.
“Mr. Toliver’s words also have merit. But that is precisely why we must unite as one and support the Senator’s dream.”
Everyone’s gaze turned to me.
If I win the favor of these horse-racing-addicted old men here, I will hardly be suspected as a suspect no matter what incident breaks out in the future.
After all, people are naturally inclined to favor their own.
“If England is tradition, our Union is the spirit of a new era. If Kentucky and Virginia lean on their past traditions, Natchez must open the future with wealth and passion. Therefore, we must not simply open a tournament that imitates them, but create an entirely new tournament of a different caliber that symbolizes the wealth and honor of the South.”
Honestly, I don’t have specific knowledge, but things like this always sound different depending on how you give meaning to them and package them.
Since I had done enough presentations in my past life to get sick of them, fortunately, I was more confident in running my mouth than anyone else.
First, I stimulate the planters’ pride with words like ‘creation’ rather than ‘imitation,’ and ‘future’ rather than ‘past,’ making them drunk on the ‘horse racing high.’
As expected, the reaction exploded immediately.
“Tell us more specifically, Sett!”
As Senator Parer urged me as if he were interested, I continued my explanation as if I had been waiting.
“The name of the tournament should be the Natchez Stakes as the Senator said, and we should make it a stage where the best three-year-olds in our Union compete. The most important thing here is the prize money and the trophy. For the authority of this tournament, I propose that we unconditionally set the prize money for the first tournament at least $1,000 higher than the tournament with the highest prize money currently in existence.”
“Are you saying we should just throw money at it first?”
“That is correct. After all, the caliber of a tournament is bound to be determined by the total prize money.”
Especially in an emerging country where tradition hasn’t been established yet, unlike England, the side that unconditionally throws a lot of money is bound to get attention.
However, the only reason others don’t do this easy method is one thing.
Naturally, it’s because they hate to lose money.
“If your intentions are gathered as one in this meeting, I will be the first to open my wallet and contribute $1,500 as a leading investment.”
“Oooooh!”
This is not just a waste of money.
If you think of it as buying a token that shows how much I love Natchez and winning the favor of everyone gathered here, it can be seen as a cheap investment.
As proof, can’t you feel the eyes of the elderly planters looking at me right now becoming noticeably softer?
Senator Parer, who was thoroughly encouraged as if he hadn’t known he would receive such great support, shouted with his hand on my shoulder.
“Now, then, let’s all discuss it! If we successfully host this historic tournament, our club’s name will be engraved in the history of the Union forever!”
“Then the design or material of the championship cup...”
“We should also discuss where to entrust the production...”
The excited old men continued to tell stories without knowing that time was passing.
The discussion continued until the sun that had been in the middle of the sky set in the west.
Just as planned.
Around the time Alexander Parer, the manager of Cedar Grove, and James Sett, who was in charge of management improvement, were in the middle of a heated debate over the creation of a new horse racing tournament.
The darkened interior of the plantation was quieter than usual, and no signs of people could be felt.
This was because most of the slaves had fallen fast asleep due to Sett’s policy that slaves should be given exercise time and sufficient sleep time regularly.
“Tsk, what kind of exercise do those nigger bastards need? You just have to work them to the point where they don’t die.”
As expected, James Sett is nothing more than a smart-aleck who only has a mouth that works.
Just you wait. I’ll distort and inflate the evidence a bit more plausibly and frame that bastard as a Northern stooge.
Then, naturally, Senator Parer will tell Sett to take his hands off this plantation, and I will be able to continue to reign as the king of this kingdom.
“Hehehe, good. Then next time...”
“Overseer, Overseer!”
As I was briefly immersed in a pleasant imagination, a slave entered my office and made a fuss.
“What is it?”
“It’s about the task you entrusted me with last time. You said to find something, anything, that could tarnish James Sett’s reputation...”
“I did. But why is there no harvest yet? You lazy bastards.”
What good is it if I’m excellent? The ones around me are all stupid niggers who haven’t become human.
Is this the sorrow Napoleon felt when he couldn’t conquer Europe because there were no talented people around him?
“I searched desperately, and there is someone who came to me saying they have very good information for you, Overseer. They say James Sett’s overseer swung his fist at another overseer because he insulted a slave. They say they know the detailed content of this incident, so what should I do?”
“What? If you have something like that, you should bring it quickly, why are you stalling! Bring them here, right now, right now!”
I was just going to try to frame him by roughly piecing together an incident, but if that’s true, I might be able to deal a truly serious blow to James Sett.
However, this stupid slave seemed hesitant, not knowing how big of a catch this was.
“I tried to do that, but they said they wanted to meet secretly, so they wanted to see you in a place with no people. Because people might keep coming to look for you within the plantation.”
“Most of the slaves are asleep today, and there’s no one to look for me, so it’s fine. Don’t talk back and call them here...”
“I see. If there’s no one to look for you in the future, I can do my business with peace of mind.”
At that moment, along with a heterogeneous voice I had never heard in my life, a group of men poured into the room from outside the door.
“Wh-what! Do you know where this is, barging in like this! No, how did you even get in here in the first place.”
“We are cleaners collecting trash, and we stopped by while passing by.”
“What? If you’re cleaners, you should just go to the dump and pick up trash quietly...”
“That’s why we came here. Because we have to collect the trash of society.”
Duncan, who felt clear hostility from the middle-aged man looking at him coldly, reflexively brought his hand to the whip he was wearing around his waist.
And he immediately gave an order to his faithful slave.
“Hey! Go out and shout to wake up the other slaves. Tell them an intruder has entered the plantation, so wake up quickly and come here!”
However, Duncan’s faithful slave did not run outside for some reason. The guy just stood there and gave a fishy smile, as if he had eaten something wrong.
Soon, loud footsteps were heard from outside, and the office door was opened roughly.
A group of slaves holding clubs or farm tools in their hands could be seen. As expected! Since such a disturbance occurred, the slaves who woke up from their sleep must have sensed that the situation was unusual and came to save him.
It’s a natural reaction, as even dogs don’t spare their bodies to protect their masters when an intruder enters.
Duncan sneered and shouted loudly.
“Well done! You guys, beat these disrespectful intruders to the ground right now! I’ll give you a generous reward!”
In this kingdom, he was the absolute ruler. It was clear that those niggers would pounce like hunting dogs and tear the enemy apart at his word.
However, the slaves, as if they had made a promise, slowly narrowed the encirclement toward Duncan, not John Brown’s group.
The small-statured slave who had been watching from behind since earlier muttered in a brutal voice.
“We don’t need a reward, Overseer. Because what we want is something else.”
“What? You guys, didn’t you hear what I...”
Thwack!
Just as Duncan realized something was wrong and tried to turn around.
A dull and heavy impact was applied to the back of his head, and his vision went dark.
“Ugh... Argh...”
Slaves gathered around Duncan, who had collapsed to the floor without even being able to let out a proper scream.
There was no more fear in their eyes. Only cold contempt and hatred that had been festering for a long time flashed.
One of them lightly pulled the whip from his waist and sneered.
“My, my. Why are you lying down? You said the whip is the best medicine for niggers as usual, so you should be swinging this.”
A brutal atmosphere where it felt like you could curse someone to death just with concentrated hatred.
The intruder who was watching this scene clicked his tongue low.
“Poor thing. How unpopular must you be that no one among the people on this plantation protects you.”
“You... you bastards... do you think you’ll be safe after doing this? Do you know who I am...”
“Ho-ho, then do you know who I am?”
“You rat-like bastard... if I find out who you are, I’ll report you to the sheriff right away...”
“Is that so? Then try reporting me once. Tell them John Brown came to see me, so come and take me away.”
“What? Wh-who?”
Duncan’s pupils began to tremble crazily at the mention of the name John Brown.
Because there was no one in the South who didn’t know the name John Brown if they treated slaves viciously.
The rare madman who sliced and killed those who advocated slavery and slave hunters in Kansas not with guns, but with swords.
The heretic of the North who punishes slave owners with sword techniques, a demonic art, not the orthodox art of gunplay.
“J-John Brown? Not an impersonator... but the real one?”
“Seeing this reaction, I don’t feel bad because it seems I haven’t lived my life in vain. Yes, I am John Brown. Since we met like this, shall we talk a little?”
Duncan, who had grasped the situation momentarily, desperately clung to John Brown’s feet and poured out excuses like a storm.
“W-wait! Please wait a moment. This isn’t something I did because I wanted to. I just followed the orders of Senator Parer and James Sett! If you’re the real John Brown, shouldn’t you be targeting a big shot like James Sett, not a small fry like me! That guy is the best slave exploiter in Mississippi!”
The memory of him venting his anger just a moment ago, claiming they were definitely Northern stooges, had already been erased from his mind.
John Brown looked down at such a Duncan and said thickly and shortly.
“No.”
He left behind one meaningful word that couldn’t be understood what he was denying.