Band of Angels Page #5

And then more ships,

until he had a whole fleet of them.

At first I was just a mate.

The skipper tried to beat me once.

Just once.

I took his ship

and I took his name, Hamish Bond.

That old seadog who came here tonight...

...brought it all back to me

like it was yesterday.

- Who are you then?

- Never mind what my name was.

You talk about freedom,

you think I've got freedom?

I got a past I'd like to forget

but I can't run away from it...

...no more than you can run away

from what you are.

Ma petite, we must pack.

We're going to the upriver plantation,

Pointe du Loup.

You'll like it up there away from the city.

We used to go there more often than now.

You mean you and...

But I was of no importance.

No real importance.

No woman ever was.

- What is it like at Pointe du Loup?

- Oh, it's beautiful up there.

But he sees no beauty...

...nothing but some secret trouble

which is always with him.

The Golden Fleece leaves at noon,

Michele.

See that the others are ready.

Send Dollie to help Manty with her packing.

Very well, monsieur.

Now, as I said, Manty...

...I don't think we can run away

from ourselves.

But everybody deserves a chance to try.

And I guess I'm the only one

who can give you your chance.

When I get off the boat

at Pointe du Loup...

...you'll continue all the way

upriver to Cincinnati.

You mean I'll be free?

As free as anyone can be...

...if you can make it to the North

before the South starts a shooting war.

The darn fools. They can't win.

Or maybe they can.

I guess down in my heart

I'll always be what I was.

Just a damn Yankee skipper.

All aboard.

We're going to the land of honey.

Cotton-picking bucks up there

baying at the moon, waiting for Dollie, gal.

- There they are.

- All Master Bond's people.

Well, this is the plantation.

Here's where I leave you.

All arrangements have been made for you.

Captain Simmons will take you to

my business representative in Cincinnati.

He'll see that you have comfortable

accommodations and ample funds.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, Manty.

Listen, forget everything.

Everything that's happened.

Forget me.

Hamish!

Well, Manty. Well, I'll be darned.

Jimmee, bring her baggage!

Lord, there's gonna be trouble to come.

I done seen it in the tea cup.

I done dreamed of big trouble

at Pointe du Loup.

All stirred up by a half-white gal,

high-juiced and sweet-smelling.

I'm glad you came to Pointe du Loup.

Come on, I'll show you around

the old place.

That's all Pointe du Loup.

All the way to the river.

Five miles of fields and meadows

to the north...

...and 3000 acres of cane and cotton

to the south.

Oh, it's a grand place.

And just as beautiful as Michele told me.

They're having a juba-pat.

It gives them a good excuse

when I come home.

Home?

They say you have other plantations.

A bunch of cotton camps.

Lint stations, I call them.

But here at Pointe du Loup,

built in 1789...

...it's special. Sort of peaceful.

Far from memories.

They're never far away.

I didn't mean yours, I meant mine.

My father, Starrwood.

Did they ever exist, I wonder?

I think you better go inside now.

I'm expecting a visit

from a neighbor of mine.

Oh, I see.

It would be difficult to present

Miss Manty, wouldn't it?

Wait, Manty.

Manty.

You've got it backwards.

I don't think Charles de Marigny

is good enough to present to you.

- Who is he?

- Oh, he's a blue blood all right.

But I always figured it was better

to be a man than a gentleman.

My tread is as light as thistledown.

I get quite an intimate view of life

that way.

I heard about you in New Orleans.

One usually suffers a disillusionment

on facing the reality, but not this time.

It was a poverty of words

which tried to describe you.

Monsieur seems to be using

a lot of words to discuss nothing.

Always lucky, aren't you?

If I'd been there, I'd have outbid you.

Get on with it, Charles,

what brings you here?

We've kicked the Yankees

out of Fort Sumter.

The war is on, Hamish.

The North will try to bleed us to ruination.

At my plantation, I'm threatened with a loss

of everything with all this freedom fever.

The runaways banding together,

raiding out of the swamps.

They plundered my stores

and run off my livestock.

You used the whip

and the hot iron too much.

Please, this is no time to be smug

about your own well-being.

I want you to use your influence

with my Negroes, Hamish.

They'll listen to you.

No.

I'd have to give them my own word

and I can't trust you to keep it.

I resent that.

I could call you to account for it.

Oh, yes, I know your ability

with a dueling pistol.

But don't bank on it with me.

I believe I'd rather beat you at something

that would really hurt you.

Your vanity, your pride and power.

Do you forbid me to see her, Hamish?

No.

I consider her free.

A guest in this house.

You treat her any other way

at your own risk.

Good day, Hamish.

Michele.

Pack a few things for me, please.

I'm going to Belle Helene plantation

for a few days.

Very well, monsieur.

Oh, Rau-Ru, it's good to see you.

We hear there's great trouble

in New Orleans.

Their days are numbered.

Farragut's gunboats are hammering them.

They're burning cotton on the wharfs

to keep the Yankees from getting it.

It's the beginning of the end for them.

Where's Monsieur Hamish?

He's been away for quite a while now.

Buying the Belle Helene plantation,

and drawing up plans...

...to make it a grand place again.

You're living in a fool's paradise

around here.

With the Northerners at the gates,

he still wants to live in grand style.

A palace for our little princess.

Isn't Pointe du Loup good enough for her?

I believe she's enjoying it here.

According to that snooping Dollie...

...Charles de Marigny

has been teaching her the minuet.

Charles de Marigny?

French poetry.

A gift, no doubt, from Monsieur Charles.

That perfumed peacock.

You deluded little coquette.

Don't you know his reputation?

Every slave he owns

is scarred by the whip.

People of our blood,

of your blood.

I don't want to hear about it.

Gives you a sense of power, doesn't it?

White men dancing attendance.

But it still isn't freedom.

Freedom's a white word.

And the fact is, you and I, aside from

being male and female, are exactly alike.

No identity beyond the confines

of Monsieur Hamish's protection.

I chose his protection.

And I'm content with it.

You're ungrateful.

He's raised you like a son.

Even broke the law to educate you

and you hate him.

I hate him for his kindness.

That's worse than the rawhide.

When a man uses a whip,

you know what there is to fight against.

But this kindness, it's a trap

that can hold you in bondage forever.

- It isn't bondage.

- It's the worst kind.

You keep trying

to cross the white line.

You keep building your hopes for marriage

with Monsieur Hamish or Charles...

...and you'll find your place

is with your own people.

Get out.

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