Chapter 4

Excerpt: A Name Given

After the return of his property, The Captain's first task was to get our travel papers in order. I will not go into much detail here, except to explain how I got my name and passport.

The girls from school continued to visit Sara and I regularly, and now that they were allowed to speak to me, I became friends with several of them. They were all very happy with the changes Mr. Randolph made to the school, and the staff was pleased as well. Mabel the cook was happy to be employed by him, for she thought he was a much better employer than Miss Minchin ever was.

"He treats me like an old friend, that Mr. Randolph, and he's a kind and generous soul," she said as she doted on us. "My, just look at you girls! I'll miss your help for sure, but he told me I could find two more ladies to replace you."

She was extremely cooperative when my father offered her the opportunity for extra compensation, for we had some trouble obtaining my passport, as there was no record of my birth.

"It's required for American citizens traveling abroad during these war times," the clerk at the government office informed us. "We need a birth or baptismal record in order to issue one."

"But she has no birth record! We've searched and couldn't find one," replied daddy, exasperated. After much negotiation, the clerk finally agreed to issue me a passport if I could find a witness to verify my birth in this country.

"Mabel can!" I cried. "She worked with my mama and she knows me."

"Then let's get her at once," daddy declared.

"Is Mabel colored?" asked the clerk.

"No ma'am, she's White," I replied.

Mabel's eyes lit up when she saw daddy's ten-dollar bill.

"Why, bless you, Cap'n. I've been needing a new coat. I'll be glad to go with you."

We trudged back to the passport office, where Mabel explained to the clerk in great detail about my mama and my birth, as well as my work with her at Miss Minchin's. At length, the clerk seemed satisfied, and after asking me a few more questions, began the application process.

"First name?" he asked.

I glanced at Sara, who nodded. "Rebecca?"

"Last name?"

"Did mama ever say what my last name was?" I asked Mabel.

"I... I think it was Williams, but I'm not sure," she hesitated.

The clerk eyed us impatiently.

"I need a last name."

"Williams Crewe," announced Sara. "Is that all right, papa?"

She gave him such a sweet look that he could hardly refuse her. He cocked his head and grinned at me. "If it pleases Rebecca."

"Oh, yes," I said, relieved.

"C-R-E-W?" asked the clerk.

"C-R-E-W-E," daddy corrected him.

When I finally had my passport, I couldn't stop staring at it. I read the line with my new name over and over.

"Careful," admonished my father. "Or you may tear it and we'll have to go back and get another one."

I shuddered at the thought of having to repeat the whole arduous process again, so reluctantly I placed my passport back in its holder. But every once in awhile I would gingerly take it out to read my name again. Later, when were alone, I thanked Sara for intervening on my behalf.

"Why did you say, 'Williams Crewe,' Sara?"

"Because, if we're true sisters, we have to have the same last name, don't we?"

I giggled. "But we look different."

"That's too bad, because I always thought our hearts looked alike."

"But you can't see a heart," I objected. "Besides, people judge us by our outside."

"Then we must look very rich, so they can have nothing bad to say," returned Sara, tongue-in-cheek. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Miss Minchin would have said that it's ridiculous, for sure, and that nothing comes easy and so on, but it's better to look nice and let people judge you well, than to look dreadful and let people judge you badly."

"I don't know," I said doubtfully. "I'm not a princess like you... in real life, that is."

"What do you mean? Have you forgotten what papa said? Of course you're a princess. You just need to get used to it, that's all."

"You mean it? A girl like me could be a... real princess?"

"Of course. You're a black swan; graceful, beautiful, and most of all, kind," she proclaimed. She then went on to describe me in such a way that made my spirits soar. Sara always knew how to make a person feel special, just like our daddy.

When we went shopping the next day, I carried my head high, just as Sara did, and I noticed that my new demeanor elicited mixed reactions. Some resented me, as if I were snobbish. Others were puzzled, and still others treated me with disdain because of my skin. I remembered Sara's sufferings in the attic and how she kept behaving like a princess, and it gave me courage.

"Daddy must not be ashamed of me," I thought, and I strove to be brave. However, I was ill-prepared for what happened next.

"Come on, Becky!" Sara yelled as we crossed a busy street. I struggled to keep up, so beguiled was I by a part of the city that I had never seen before.

Then I turned a corner and they were gone.

"Daddy?" I cried. Bewildered and lost, I stared at the sea of people passing around me. He and Sara were nowhere to be found.

A large working-class woman marched up to me with her lips scrunched tightly in a sneer, and she seized the corner of my coat with her chubby hands. Frightened, I backed away, but she held on to me.

"Well, well, won't you look at this! A colored girl dressed in such finery."

I managed to look her in the face long enough to recognize her. She was Mrs. Blunt, the butcher's wife, and she was as mean as a rattlesnake. I hoped against hope that she wouldn't recognize me.

She grabbed me by my shoulders and shook me. "Where'd you steal 'em clothes, huh?"

I shook my head, terrified. "I didn't steal'em. Their mine, honest!"

She studied my face, her eyes narrowed into little slits. "Hey, I know you... you're that servant girl at the seminary. Now don't you lie to me, you little thief! Just wait until I bring you back to Miss Minchin!" she screamed.

"You don't understand! It's Mr. Randolph's school now!" I pleaded. "And my daddy gave me these clothes!"

She slapped my face hard. "Liar! You have no daddy!"

I avowed my innocence as I nursed my smarting cheek, to no avail. In her eyes I was guilty, and she proceeded to march me in the direction of the school.

"Daddy! Sara!" I screamed in terror.

"Hey!" I heard Sara yell behind us, to my relief. Mrs. Blunt stopped and turned around.

"This girl is a servant at that young ladies' school over there," my accuser informed Sara as she pointed towards the building that used to be my home. "Did she steal your coat, missy?"

"I gave her that coat, madam," replied daddy as he caught up to us. "Now let her go."

He spoke calmly, not wishing to make a scene, but I could tell that he was furious. By now a small crowd had gathered around us and they were staring and whispering. Stunned, Mrs. Blunt released her grip, and I ran to his side.

The Captain looked me over and smoothed my coat sleeves.

"Rebecca, did you offend this lady?"

"No, daddy," I whispered as I shook my head.

He gave me his hand and said quietly, "Come with me." I took it and clung on to him for dear life. Sara took his other hand.

"But... but..." sputtered the butcher's wife.

Daddy tightened his grip on my hand and reeled around.

"Yes?"

His hard stare silenced her immediately. Then we all walked on in silence until Sara finally spoke.

"I can't believe she thought you stole your clothes!"

"It's my fault, really," I replied as I rubbed my cheek. "I should have kept up with you."

"What's the matter with your cheek, Becky?"

"It still hurts."

"Why?"

Reluctantly, I told her, "Mrs. Blunt slapped me..."

My father came to dead halt. "What!" He exclaimed in consternation.

I was afraid that he might go back to my accuser and beat her black and blue.

"It's nothing, really. I've been through worse."

"No one---hits my girls," he declared through gritted teeth. "You are to tell me at once if someone tries to hurt you. Do you understand, Rebecca?"

"Yes, daddy," I said, and I loved him even more than I did before, if that were possible.