Chapter 3
Jemima dabbed the blood off of Dolly and used the little girl's handkerchief to hold against the cut until it stopped bleeding. The spelling bee eventually began and the students performed as the teacher expected until the last round. Josiah Smallwood faced Catherine Custer across the room.
"Relinquish," Mingo pronounced. Catherine spelled the word correctly.
"Mystery."
"H i s t o r y, " Josiah spelled.
"That is incorrect, " Mingo intoned. He shut the speller with a slap and nodded his congratulations to Catherine. But Josiah was not going to take defeat gracefully.
"I spelled it right! H i s t o r y. History!"
"The word was 'mystery', not history. You spelled 'history' correctly, Mr. Smallwood. But the word I pronounced was 'mystery'."
"You said 'history'. I know you did." Josiah was embarrassed at being beaten by a girl two years younger, and he was intent on finding someone to blame for his error. His face was red with anger. He knew from experience with Mr. Clover that if he bellowed enough, Mr. Clover would back down. The boy was about to discover that such tactics did not work with everyone.
Mingo beckoned the boy to the front of the room. When the boy did not budge, Mingo covered the six feet between them in two strides. He towered over Josiah, his eyes locked on the boy's. Without a word, the man stared into the boy's eyes. Josiah felt the power behind the look, and he dropped onto the back bench without another word.
"See me before you go home for the noon meal," Mingo said quietly.
The other pupils were all watching the confrontation uneasily. Everyone had gone back to their position on the benches and were waiting for the next subject to be called. According to Mr. Clover's schedule, it would be reading. Again Mingo was confronted with the task of keeping several students busy while he heard a small group read. As he thought about the problem, his eyes happened to fall upon a volume containing Shakespeare plays. Inspiration sprang into his mind and he took the volume into his hands and faced the room of children.
"Today, students, we will read and act out one of Shakespeare's plays. Does anyone know any play written by William Shakespeare?" All the eyes were again riveted uncomfortably on his face. He swallowed and addressed Israel Boone.
"Israel, do you know any play written by William Shakespeare?" Mingo's eyes conveyed his expectation that Israel did indeed have an answer. The little boy frowned and shook his head.
Mingo's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Why, Israel, remember Macbeth? I loaned it to you several weeks ago. "
Israel blushed a dark red and dropped his eyes. Mingo immediately recognized his blunder in singling out the little boy, but the damage was already done. Several of the larger boys tittered and poked each other. Israel knew that he would be the butt of jokes now for several weeks. The other boys would probably call him 'Shakespeare' or 'Macbeth'. He clenched his fists at the sting that he knew he would have to endure. He never expected Mingo to betray him like that. His eyes stung with quick tears which he blinked away before anyone could see. But Mingo saw and his heart ached.
He still had a classroom full of children that needed instruction, so he compartmentalized the blunder into the far reaches of his mind and continued.
" 'Macbeth' is a good play to work on today. Since we only have one copy, we will have to take turns reading. After we finish, we will pick a few pages to act out. I will begin. The play is set in Scotland many years ago ..." Mingo painted verbal pictures of the setting and the students settled down to listen to the exciting tale. The man's deep voice read the story of murder and revenge and the small room in the rough settlement on the frontier of Kentucky faded away to become the misty highlands of Scotland.
He moved easily around the room as he read, and the children's eyes followed him. He read expressively and naturally, and every child in the room was taken into the story. When he paused to get a drink from the bucket in the back of the room, several children groaned. Surprised and secretly very pleased, he asked if someone else would take up the reading. Nathaniel Smallwood volunteered, and though he stumbled over some of the long passages the story continued. Jemima Boone read several pages, then Jason Anderson took up the tale. They finished after more than an hour of reading. The children were stiff from sitting on the long benches and Mingo allowed them a ten minute break to use the privy out back, get a drink from the bucket and just visit with each other. He could hear snatches of conversation and he was very encouraged to hear the children discussing the story. He decided that he could make it to the lunch break after all.
When the children returned to their seats Mingo chose the first act of "Macbeth" for the children to perform. Parts were chosen and changed as the play progressed. The day was becoming increasingly warm, and as the temperature increased so did a peculiar odor. In the back of Mingo's mind a suspicion was growing. All the girls in the room began to inhale and frown. Within a few minutes all the boys began to nudge each other and grin. Their reaction confirmed Mingo's suspicion and he halted the class. He rose from his cramped position in Mr. Clover's chair and faced the roomful of children.
"Who spilled the castoreum?" Mingo's nose was twitching as the offensive odor increased in intensity with the heat. All the girls were holding their noses and all the boys were giggling. No one volunteered the answer to Mingo's question, but all forty eyes were focused on him to see how he would deal with the situation.
"Girls, you are dismissed for the lunch break. You may go now." As the girls rose and scurried out the door, the boys turned to each other with looks of suspicion. "Chuckie and Pauley, you may also leave now." The two little boys hurried after the girls.
"Now, boys, let's explore this rationally," Mingo said. Thaddeus Smallwood leaned over to Israel Boone and whispered, "What does that mean?" Israel shrugged and faced forward before Mingo could catch them whispering together.
"Every one of you here knows what beaver castoreum is. And I admit that there is a certain panache to your prank. But such diversions do not advance the goal of educating your minds. Therefore, there must be some repercussions."
Thaddeus leaned over again but Israel shook his head before the question could be asked. He had no idea what Mingo had just said either. All of the boys looked at each other with puzzlement. August Himmel, the boldest, raised his hand.
"Yes, August?"
"What do them words mean? None o' us understand what you just said. Air you speakin' English?"
"Yes, August, boys, I am speaking English. Over the lunch break I want each one of you to find out what one of these words mean." Mingo leaned over and wrote on the blackboard in a fine flowing hand: diversion, advance, repercussion. "There is a dictionary here in the room that you may use, or you may ask someone at home. But when we return we will discuss the meanings of these words. Any questions?"
None of the boys indicated that they had a question and Mingo released them for the hour lunch break. As they all rose to go, Mingo called Josiah Smallwood to his desk. The youth debated his best course of action. It was very unlikely that the tall man meant to whip him. There were switches in the room, but Mingo was making no move to gather one into his hand. He decided that the best course was to continue to try and bluff his way out of the situation. So he swaggered to the front of the room with pretended insouciance. Mingo continued to lean against Mr. Clover's short desk, waiting. He read the boy's attitude perfectly.
"Mr. Smallwood, please spell 'history'."
The boy did as he was asked, a sneer lifting his lip.
"Now please spell 'mystery'."
Again the boy complied.
"You spell well. Now, answer this question: Does you confrontational attitude serve you well, or ill?"
"What's that mean? Why don't you talk plain?"
"I am speaking plainly. An educated man would understand me. Do you wish to become an educated man? Or do you wish to remain ignorant of all the world's wonders?"
The boy stood silently before the unusual man. No one had ever talked to him like this before. Mr. Clover spoke with authority but retreated quickly. His father shouted and his mother whined, but no one just spoke quietly and waited for an answer. Against his will, he looked into the tall man's dark eyes. He saw amusement and understanding there, but no judgment or condemnation.
"Go on home, Josiah. And when you return I want you to tell me your answer. Is that something that you feel able to do?"
The boy did not answer but nodded in affirmation.
"I will see you in an hour. Enjoy your break." Mingo nodded at the door and the boy walked slowly toward it, then turned and looked back at the man with uncertainty. Mingo nodded again and the boy stepped over the threshold and was gone. Sighing, the teacher rose and walked the few yards into Cincinnatus' establishment for his lunch. Lost in thought, he did not notice the knot of people standing a few feet away, watching him.