Last on Roots...
My breakfast bowl is empty now.
- There are goats to be fed. - Yes!
- Take care. - Yes. Father. I will.
Captain Davies, your vessel. Sir.
- The Lord Ligonier? - The same. She'll be ready soon.
- We'll be taking on slaves. - I see.
Welcome aboard.
Come on. Get out of there. Move. You monkeys!
There is no riverbank.
Where is the earth? The earth is gone!
It's time to look over the wenches.
I command a Christian ship!
But. Captain. Sir...
- I will not lead any man into sin. - Sin?
Fornication.
Will our warriors come after us?
No. There is no trail in the water to follow.
Then we are alone.
Come in. Mr. Slater.
Just brought her as a belly-warmer.
Didn't figure it'd be any problem for a man like you.
Sleep well.
Oh. Merciful heaven.
I don't understand their language. But I can guess what they're saying.
- And what might that be? - They're telling us to sleep lightly.
We will kill the white man. And we will go home.
We're different. We can't even talk to each other.
We're different tribes.
Men chained together are brothers. We are all one village.
Who cannot speak the same words.
Listen. Mandinka. Those who speak other words...
words of the Wolof. Of the Serere, the Fulani...
talk to the man chained to you.
Teach him your words. Learn his.
We will be one village.
I'm Mandinka.
Do you understand Mandinka?
- Captain Davies, sir? - Come in. Mr. Slater.
How did you pass the night?
Restfully. Mr. Slater.
Didn't mean to trouble you.
Nothing. Nothing.
The ache and fever.
From lying at anchor in that African river.
What is your concern. Mr. Slater? Ls the wind shifting?
No. It's fair across the stern quarter.
It's not the sails that worry me. It's that sound.
Sound? I don't hear any sound.
Aye. That'd be the point.
There's a time after they settle in and get the idea.
When they get to thinking in a few weeks...
they're too weak to be trouble. Till then. There could be uprising.
- Shackled hand and foot? - Mark me. Captain.
They' re treacherous. Murdering beasts.
- I cannot believe a risk of uprising. - Oh. It's been known, sir.
When I served in the king's frigate...
WE CHINE OH a slaver.
Its canvas shredded on the yard. The blacks rose for sure. Sir.
Wasn't a white man left alive.
We saw bodies lashed to the ratlines.
We hanged them. Sir.
They was a dead loss to their owners. Them niggers.
I take your point, Mr. Slater.
Well then. Your orders?
Can you not strengthen your guard. Slater?
- Aye. Captain. - Surely. Armed men in good health...
can restrain chained men in weakened condition.
As to that. I put my trust to another advantage.
They never been in this dodge before...
and we have. We know all the tricks to the trade.
I'm sure you do. Mr. Slater. You may go.
Aye. Captain.
Would you need a belly-warmer again?
Keep those legs going. Come on. You monkeys.
Come on. You bloody apes. Keep moving!
Come on back here. You wench.
Come on back.
- Get her. Men. - Get a rope on that wench!
Jump. Damn your eyes! Jump!
Not now.
Get that wench!
Get her down!
All right. You fool!
What were her words?
I could not understand.
What was she doing untied?
- Nothing. Sir. - Nothing?
I'll have you passed under the keel.
Let's see what you say after your belly's been ripped.
- Mr. Slater. Be fair now. - Fair? If it's fair you want...
- You said we could have a wench. - After work.
When the sails was rigged and the decks were shining...
and we was in Bristol fashion. But I didn't tell you...
to crawl out of your britches...
A Mandinka maiden must have strength.
I'm no longer a Mandinka maiden.
You won't get a farthing at the end of this voyage!
And I'll have your hide for the balance of the payment.
- You ask any of the other men... - Keep your britches on!
I don't have to ask the other men anything. I can see!
I've seen enough to know I'll keelhaul you...
or any other man who don't do what I tell him...
Allah is Allah.
There is no God but Allah.
Don't damage the cargo! Drive them below!
Drive them down!
Come on. You damn heathen.
Allah. The merciful.
Allah...
the compassionate.
Take this man to paradise.
Let him see Mohammad the prophet.
Let him taste the joys of the faithful.
Drop anchor!
- Captain Davies. Please. - This way. Please.
- Captain Davies? - Forgive me. Sir.
I've been somewhat poorly. Welcome aboard.
Mr. Andrews. Is it?
No. Sir. John Carrington. Your servant. Sir.
I've forgotten the effluviums of a slave ship...
when not filtered through vinegar.
And. Sir. I do not comprehend how you can abide it.
Custom. Sir. Custom and avarice.
Yes. Sir.
My instructions were...
that Mr. Andrews represented the owner's interest.
I am factor for Horace Andrews and Company.
Mr. Andrews is in Williamsburg. In Virginia.
The House of Burgesses is in session.
And. For those who know the governor. Land grants.
- Chair. Mr. Carrington. - Thank you.
Did you have a good voyage?
My first officer's dead.
Ten seamen and the ship's boy. A third of my crew.
Well. God rest their souls.
But the lifeblood of commerce is goods. Sir. Goods!
How fares your cargo through the passage?
3000 elephant teeth have survived the voyage.
You are a pretty wit. Sir. A pretty wit.
Elephant teeth. Indeed!
140 Negroes were loaded on Lord Ligonier...
at the Gambia River.
Oh. Loose pack. Well?
Ninety-eight lived as we made port. Ninety-eight?
I have known slavers to make port...
with less than half alive and still show a profit.
- My felicitations, captain. - How soon can I unload?
Directly we warp your vessel to the wharf.
I want you to secure for me flowers of sulfur to burn in the hold.
- I wish to see my ship clean. - Naturally.
You'll be carrying tobacco to London.
And in London?
Goods for the Guinea coast and then on to the Gambia River.
- For more slaves. - Indeed.
Thus does heaven smile upon us...
point to point in a golden triangle.
Tobacco. Trade goods, slaves...
tobacco. Trade goods and so on. Ad infinitum.
All profit. Sir. And none the loser for it.
Mr. Carrington. Do you ever wonder?
On what topic, sir? To what end?
As to whether we're just as imprisoned...
as those chained in the hold below?
I do not follow. Sir.
It sometimes feels...
that we do harm to ourselves by taking part in this endeavor.
Harm? What harm can there be in prosperity. Sir?
What harm is a full purse. I'd like to know?
No. No.
I doubt that you'd like to know.
I doubt that either of us would truly like to know.
Would you like to come to the auction?
You've never seen anything like it.
No. I am sure I have not. Mr. Carrington.
I do know that I am not interested in seeing it now.
Or ever.
Well. Well. Now. What have we here. Huh?
Easy. Fella.
It's hard enough to mend three months on a slaver...
without new whip weals to salve.
Bench marks again.
This fellow's bones are showing through.
- Is it festered? - Not more than usual.
Laudable pus. Merely laudable pus.
Penny's worth of tar and he'll be fit for auction.
Tar.
Will they be ready on the 7th?
There's a horserace. I would take advantage of the attraction.
Coat them with oil. Flaxseed oil covers a multitude of skins.
Give the wild ones laudanum. The dull ones...
a dollop of brandy and may the buyer beware.
- You sent for me. Mr. Carrington? - Yes. Sir.
Here is the text for an advertisement I wish to place.
"Just imported in the ship Lord Ligonier, Capt. Davies..."
from the River Gambia. To be sold in Annapolis...
on Wednesday. The 7th of October next...
"...a cargo of choice. Healthy slaves."
I'll put "slaves" in big type. Sir.
Yes. And I should also...
I shall want handbills. Broadsides to pass out at the race.
- There is a bit of a poser. Sir. - How so?
These are busy times in the printing trade.
Politics! We have Burgess Patrick Henry's speech...
in the Virginia Colony. The new Townshend Taxes...
are worse than the old Stamp Act.
I am with Burgess Henry in my passion for liberty...
but business is business. I will pay hard money for my handbills.
Fanta.
Is it the same. You think?
- Is what the same? - The moon.
Is it the same we see in our land?
I do not think so.
Nothing here is the same.
The people, the food. The animals, the trees.
I do not see why the moon should be the same.
Good.
Why does that matter to you?
I would hate to think...
my mother and little brother can see that moon...
but cannot see me.
That would make them seem closer, I think.
Being close and not touching...
is like eating and not swallowing.
We will beat them. You'll see.
You can say that. A warrior is taught to say such things.
A warrior is taught to fight.
Your father would say that I am right.
And where is my father now?
No.
Since we were taken from our homes I have learned another lesson.
What lesson?
I have learned to stay alive.
We were to meet here.
Ah. There he is.
Up to now. I worked my place myself.
But I cleared two new fields.
I reckon if I could buy a likely nigger or two...
I could maybe put up a hogshead of tobacco.
Crab cakes!
Crab cakes? Crab cakes?
He only paid 20 pounds for the wench...
and she was four months showing.
And then if she didn't take the pox and die!
I told him if he'd bought a cow...
at least he'd have the hide and tallow!
They're a no-account bunch.
They gets them all greased up trying to fool somebody.
Trying to grab any one of them...
be like trying to pinch a watermelon seed!
Massa Reynolds might want one of them. Maybe.
Let's see if there's any women for him.
When I was a lad. We had indentured bondservants.
- Stout Cornishmen and Scotsman. - Scourings of Newgate prison.
Pickpockets and highwaymen.
And if one runs away. You couldn't tell him from any Englishman.
But take a black slave. And they're always black.
Some are prime-looking. Fiddler.
Massa Reynolds don't act like that. Not regular.
Sometimes on Christmas.
But he don't buy with night-wrestling in mind. See.
Gentlemen. Your attention I beg.
As advertised. We have a fine cargo of healthy slaves...
recently landed from the River Gambia.
They've made a fine passage and are in prime condition.
We have spry young bucks. Sound of limb and tooth.
Tractable. Free of colics and heaves.
And wenches!
Fine. Strapping wenches of an age for breeding or field work.
Terms of trade. For cash or good bills of exchange from men...
known to me or Mr. Carrington.
We have a rather large inventory of servants to offer.
Marcus. Get the first fine batch up here.
Careful! We don't need damaged goods.
Get them out. The gentlemen are waiting.
Come on. Wench!
Wenches. Gentlemen. First to whet your appetites.
Those desiring to inspect the items for defects...
please step forward.
The first item for sale.
A fine black pearl, indeed.
She's in fine condition. Made the trip above decks.
You'll find no marks. She's young. Supple and strong.
Posture. Buy. Posture.
Use her to wash. To weave. To plow. To sow what you will.
A good investment.
She'll raise you a fine litter of pickaninnies.
That's enough.
But. As the whore said. Turning from bottle to bed:
"Enough of pleasure. To work!"
It's time to proceed, gentlemen. Time to start the bidding.
Who'll offer me 100 pounds for this wench? Do I hear 100 pounds?
We'll start at 50. I have 50 here. Give me 55.
I've got 60 over here.
Sixty-five. Do I hear 70?
Who will give me 80? Eighty over here.
Ninety over here.
One hundred fifteen?
One hundred fifteen once...
twice...
sold to Robert Calvert of Virginia.
One hundred fifteen pounds.
A very shrewd purchase. My felicitations.
My pleasure. Sir. And I anticipate she will be my pleasure. Sir.
Now calling your attention to the next item.
A wench sound of wind and body.
- The bidding... - We will see each other again. Fanta.
We will.
Good lines to that one.
Look at his eyes.
He's not even close to being broken.
Now here's a prime young buck...
just picked from the trees. Bright as a monkey...
Good bones, sinew. Free of defects. Good teeth.
Good for Carolina rice. Tobacco or corn.
Pull like an ox, carry like a mule.
See for yourselves.
He's free of heaves, piles. Pox.
He's young. Biddable. A fine animal, gentlemen.
I'm going to start the bidding at 150.
Don't waste time. He's the pick of the herd.
You won't find his like these days.
Who'll give me 150?
One twenty-five. Gentlemen. I sold a buck half of this...
for 200 guineas a fortnight ago.
Now. Who'll start me at 125?
One thirty-five.
One forty.
One fifty. Sir Robert.
One fifty-five. Do I hear 160?
Sir Robert? Put this buck to the wench you just bought.
One fifty-five, once.
Twice.
Sold! Your name. Sir?
John Reynolds. Spotsylvania County. Virginia.
Lot four, number three.
Mr. John Reynolds.
Spotsylvania County of Virginia...
155 pounds.
Your bill of sale. Sealed with the Lord Townshend's...
stamps affixed. Intolerable.
Ten shillings to convey your own property.
You Virginians have the truth. Parlous state we've fallen into...
when London can interfere with our commerce.
I avoid politics. I have enough trouble...
- ...raising my tobacco. - Yes. Sir. Well...
there he is. I can throw in the manacles.
The collar and chain should suffice.
No manacle.
Well. Now. We'll have to give him a name.
Dc you fancy the classics?
'Tis all the fashion to have Psyches and Caesars running about.
A pantheon of nymphs and satyrs. Delightful.
I like solid English names for my servants.
Fiddler. Do we have a George?
Yes. Sir. There's Sukie's George. Born last planting time.
Well. Then...
"Toby." Yes.
His name shall be Toby. Oh. And Mr. Carrington?
- Sir? - You're not dealing with a child. Sir.
I don't understand.
My meaning should be found in that carbuncle...
on black Toby's back.
I want it lanced before he's loaded.
I hadn't noticed it before.
Probably because it was covered with pine tar. Somehow.
I shall fetch the doctor.
Fiddler.
Don't you make no trouble.
Ain't going to hurt you.
You just stay quiet now.
You belong to Massa Reynolds. That's all there is to it.
You ain't no more in Africa. Guinea man.
Listen to me if you want to live.
You in America now.
You hear me talking. Nigger? You in America!
Aw. Poor African boy...
You don't know what I be saying nohow. Huh?
Look out. We got a loose one!
If he's killed. I want two others.
Mind it. Now!
Gentlemen. Gentlemen! Gentlemen.
Pardon me. Gentlemen...
Hold still, now.
Come on now. Get yourself over there.
That's it.
Here. Stay put now.
Damn it! Hold still. Ain't you got no brains at all?
You do what I say or I's gonna go hard with you.
Move again and I'll pull your behind out through your nose.
You sure this old horse couldn't make it home without a shoe?
That beast is property.
A wise man takes care of his horses and slaves if he wants to prosper.
Never thought about it like that.
It's a smart way. For sure.
That's how come you never have no runaways.
Mr. Ames says it's because of the whip.
Mr. Ames is a different sort of man.
- Fiddler. - Yes. Sir?
Pick up the mallet and put it in the toolbox.
What you got in your head? What you thinking about?
- Want me to give him a stripe or two? - No.
Might be a problem. He's always looking around.
He ain't never relaxed.
- Fiddler? - Yes.
You told me he was the best of the lot.
You do recall that.
- Did I say that? - You did.
I don't recollect saying...
From now on. If he acts up...
I'll hold you responsible. Understand?
You mean I gets to turn this here Guinea man into a proper field hand?
A field hand who speaks the King's English...
and does exactly as he's told. As a matter of fact...
I'll give you six months to accomplish that.
I don't quite know how to thank you.
You sure know how to make my day happy.
- Your pleasure. For sure. - Just do as I say.
That's all I expect from my niggers.
I love you. Massa.
I'm riding ahead to the inn to get me a tankard of ale.
Catch up with me after that horse is shoed.
You gonna leave me a paper saying it's okay to be out here?
'Cause any white folks come by are liable to...
- ...take us for runaways. - Yes. They would.
Sn I wouldn't take too much time with that shoe.
Yes. Sir.
"Wouldn't take too long with that shoe."
I'd right enough say I wouldn't take too long.
You hear Massa. Toby Guinea man?
You hear him talk about making you a righteous field hand?
Lord. You don't even know your name.
First lesson!
You Toby. And I's Fiddler.
I'll rip your hide if you don't do as I say.
You don't know where you going. You don't know about hoeing tobacco.
You don't know about no Mr. Ames with no whip.
You don't know how to talk. Get up.
Go on.
You on a wagon.
This is a wagon. You say "wagon."
You say "wa-gon."
Good. Guinea man!
Massa give you a new name. Massa say you named Toby.
That's who you is, hear? Toby.
L's Fiddler. Fiddler.
'Cause I plays for the Christmas and the Jubilee.
Sarah's Fiddler. That's me!
Now you say "Toby."
- Kunta. Kunta Kinte. - No. That's your African name.
Massa give you a new name. Massa say you named Toby!
What's the matter with you? Turn me loose.
Kunta Kinte.
You Africans all alike. Crazy!
Massa say you name is Toby. That's who you is!
He can do anything he wants. Ain't nothing you can do about it!
I've been scrambling most of my days to get where I got.
I eats in the big house kitchen. I got pine boards in my cabin.
And it don't take much coughing to get corn whiskey for my medicine.
That is fine living...
and I'll be damned if I lose it on account of you, Guinea man.
You take my meaning?
He don't speak the King's English, Fiddler.
You better learn.
You best learn or you're gonna get the bloody back.
And me too. Maybe.
Get up now!
There it is, old African.
Massa Reynolds' land.
Them's his niggers.
This is home!
Get up there. Boy!
Hello!
- Papa! - Hello. Sweetheart.
What did you bring me?
- What'd you bring us? - Hold on. I'll be right there.
Let me get down.
I done stole a whole sugar loaf at Annapolis.
Now you shares it around, hear?
- Now what about my music? - Wait a minute!
One at a time. I have surprises for all of my ladies.
However, there are no stays...
- ...and no music from London. - Why not?
- John. Why ever not? - It's politics. Damn politics!
- John. Your language! - It's true.
The merchants will not import British products because of duties.
- It's ever so unfair to the girls. - However...
I do have some stays. And I do have some ribbons...
and I do have some music. Printed in Boston.
Right over here.
Everybody gonna get some. Let me show you something.
This here is a Guinea man. African!
They catch him running through the woods.
Massa bought him off the ship.
You keep away from him. He a wild African!
Oh. Yeah. He a bobcat, for sure!
Some of you never seen no African nigger.
You just listen to Fiddler.
This Guinea man don't know English.
I'll be the one teaching him what he got to know.
Come on. Boy.
Here. This way.
- John. It's fabulous! - I'm going to try a bow.
Welcome back. Good to see you, sir.
Ames.
Would you excuse us while I have some words with Mr. Ames?
Some brandy might help cut the dust.
- A new foal to show you, sir. - Good.
I have something to tell you.
What's tobacco, sir?
Six pounds a hundredweight on the wharf.
- Down a shilling. - Aye.
These are hard times for small farmers.
I have some new seed for the spring planting. Cotton.
Egyptian. Long staple. Recommended by Mr. Wylie.
They've slaves to spare to clean the cotton.
- I'll stick to tobacco. - You may be right. But...
we'll try a small cotton field. An experiment.
You know best.
Also. I bought a hand at auction.
- Straight from the ship? - Yes.
- I'll put him down as a half-hand. - Why?
He's a strong one. 17 or 18 by the look of the teeth.
- Surely he's a full hand. - Mr. Reynolds...
I've had niggers fresh from the trees.
You can't get no more work from them than a pregnant wench.
I'll put him down as half a hand till he's broke.
You may be right, Mr. Ames.
I've set Fiddler to do the breaking.
- Fiddler? - Aye.
There's a craft to breaking a nigger. Same as a horse.
- Horses don't break each other. - Fiddler's in charge...
- ...until I say otherwise. - Aye.
Don't go away. African. Fiddler's coming.
Hey, you. Toby.
Bring you vittles.
Here.
Hope I don't have to keep bringing your vittles down here.
Then you can eat in the cook house. Take them chains off.
Things get better once you stop being African.
Start being nigger like the rest of us.
Go on. Boy. Them prime grits there.
Can you say "grits"? Say "grits."
Dummy.
Here. I made sure old Rachel dipped you up a piece of pork fat.
Here. Yeah. Yeah. That's good, boy. That's pork.
Can you say "pork"?
Pigs. You know.
You one of them Guinea men don't like pig meat.
You could have told me.
No. I guess not.
Don't make sense. Believing that Jesus don't like ribs and fatback.
You better be eating all them grits...
'cause there ain't no more coming tonight.
Grits.
Good boy. Good night. Toby.
Dummy.
Grits. Dummy.
I'll allow that you just making sounds.
'Cause if you call old Fiddler a dummy...
I might feed you to them hogs.
They ain't choosy about what they eat.
- Fiddler. - Mr. Ames. Evening to you, sir.
- Enjoy the trip to Annapolis? - Yes. Sir.
Mr. Reynolds told me about your arrangement.
Yes. Sir.
Interesting arrangement.
- Good night. Fiddler. - Good night to you. Mr. Ames. Sir.
Mr. Reynolds owns you...
Fiddler is going to teach you...
but sooner or later, nigger. You're mine.
Listen to me. Do you hear me?
I am Kunta Kinte, son of Omoro.
Listen, little brother cricket.
Go to the village of Juffure and say to Omoro...
and my mother Binta...
and my grandmother. Nyo Boto...
Tell them I have been taken across a great river...
to the land of the white man.
Tell them I see men and women here of the Fulani tribe...
the Wolof tribe, the Hausa tribe.
But they have all forgotten Allah.
Tell them I will never be like them.
I will escape from this place.
I am a Mandinka warrior and I will do it.
Tell them I am alive and will not forget them.
And tell them. Do not forget me.
Do you hear me. Little brother?
- Try again. You're doing very well! - Oh. No. Ames.
You've been around their stink all day.
How can you believe they're nothing more than monkeys?
You underestimate them. Sir.
Oh. I underestimate them. Do I?
Well. Let me tell you something.
I've been working blacks since I came here.
But you're not with them like me.
And people say that a nigger is suited to being a slave.
Take my word, that isn't true.
You do not believe in the natural ability of the white man...
to dominate the black?
Correct. Sir. Slaves aren't born. They're made.
No offense, but you told me you started out...
as a bound boy on the tidewater for seven years.
Aye. Driven to the field with a cuff and a curse. Like them.
But at the end of seven years. I was free.
Take one of your hands here.
Seven years from now he'll still be black. Still be a slave!
It's fear, and the whip to rub it in.
That's what makes a slave.
Brother William. What say you?
We're at loggerheads here.
We need a third vote to break the tie.
I won't challenge a man at his own specialty.
But Ames spends more time with blacks than with whites.
Sn he knows them very well.
John. I don't mean to intrude, but...
You're not intruding. Love. What is it?
Well. The blacks are inferior to us.
They are incapable of learning all but the most...
basic of concepts. Yes?
Yes. Most hold to that, my dear.
Then why should we be afraid to teach them?
If they are incapable of learning...
why is it a crime to teach them to read?
And if they can be taught to read. They must be able to learn.
I'm sure I've overlooked something. I just don't understand.
I've seen bears taught to dance ton.
But it's not a graceful sight. Surely not a natural one.
- You think they can learn to read? - Yes.
In a rudimentary fashion. But that's where the danger lies.
You see. A slave is ignorant.
I mean. He eats. Sleeps. And labors and is happy.
If we allow him to learn to read. He begins to think.
Then he becomes unhappy.
No. They've a simple spirit. And I think we serve them best...
by making simple demands.
Well said. Very well said.
Do you think they have feelings? I mean. Like we do?
They have needs and hungers and passions.
- But no. Not precisely as we do. - Needs and hungers? Passions?
Such talk! And from a doctor!
A doctor's best medicine is honesty...
and I was being honest.
Now that's enough. You two. My brother has a way...
with children and ladies. I envy him.
I have fancy theories. I'd like to show him life in the raw.
Like that hand you bought...
off the ship four months ago.
Toby? How is he doing. Mr. Ames?
Fiddler's doing his best.
But he's still in chains.
Still in chains after four months? John. That's not usual. Is it?
Well. He's not usual. My dear.
He's not like one of your niggers born here.
He's freeborn. That's dangerous.
He's a smart nigger. Still won't answer to "Toby."
You contradict yourself. He can't learn his own name...
He knows his name. It's the new name we gave him...
he doesn't want to answer to.
There's a difference.
- Hey. Mary! - Afternoon. Fiddler.
- How's Sarah? - She be right enough. I reckon.
Cooking in the big house. Doing right by Massa...
judging from the size of his belly.
He gets any bigger. He ain't gonna be able to see his business.
No point in looking at a business if they ain't nobody buying.
- You a terrible man! - Right.
- Ain't it the truth! - That's right.
Let me give you a hand.
Here you go.
Fanta.
Fanta!
You hear that, Mama?
He call me "Fanta." That African talk?
Never mind that talk. You leave that boy be.
I ain't do nothing.
- He started talking to me first. - Here.
Get along now.
Let's get back to the garden before Mr. Ames comes.
Come on.
- Fiddler. - Get on up back here. Now.
Fiddler.
You and me run maybe?
- What you say? - You and me go away from here.
We ain't gonna run nowhere. There's no place to run to.
There's no place for us...
except where we be right now! You hear?
Besides...
it's so nice this time of year.
We ain't gonna go no place till snow come.
- What's snow. Fiddler? - Never you mind. Boy.
Let's get on back to home.
I've gotta teach you the difference between "manure" and "Massa."
There ain't that much difference when you gets down to it. Giddap!
Get up. Toby.
If you don't understand...
I got a dictionary in the butt end of this whip.
You do what Mr. Ames says now. Toby.
I didn't ask for your help. Fiddler.
That's a fact for sure...
- ...but Toby here... - "Toby here."
He doesn't even answer to his name.
These African Guinea men. When they hears a loud voice...
sometimes they just ups and freezes.
Sn I shouldn't be shouting at your nigger?
Oh. No! He ain't my nigger. He's rightly Massa Reynolds' nigger.
Though he did give him to me to teach up.
All right. You go over to Toby...
you get him to working. Or I'll cut both of you!
- Yes. Sir... - Now!
Yes. Sir. Mr. Ames. Right away.
Get yourself up. And get to work. Right now.
Got him up and working. Boss. Just like you told me.
Mr. Ames?
I'm doing my best. Sir.
Don't be scared. You talk good enough to talk to me.
Plenty of times.
- What you doing in here? - Trying to talk to him.
He African. You can't talk to him.
He talked to me, that's for sure. Call me that word again. Fanta.
There was a girl back there in the holding pen.
She come with him from Africa.
That'd be her name. You and her about the same age.
But now she gone. And so should you be.
That Guinea man eats girls like you for breakfast!
I ain't never been breakfast for nobody.
You go on. You got no more to say to him.
- Go on! - I got one more thing to say to him.
I saw.
I ain't told nobody yet. But I saw.
Fiddler! I want to talk to you.
Yes. Mr. Ames!
Come on.
What can I do for you, sir?
Get your fiddle and go to the house.
Mr. Reynolds has a friend from the junction.
- They want some music. - Yes. Sir.
You come to the right man for that. Yes. Sir.
Said you wanna hear me play. Here's your chance.
Give me that stuff.
Look at those stars. Clouds look full of snow. Don't they?
Not snow. Rain!
- Fiddler! - Yes. Sir!
Sir Robert Calvert and I are waiting!
Coming. On the way!
- Let go! - Fiddler...
- The man. I know the man! - How you know him?
When Massa Reynolds pay money for Kunta...
that man there pay money for Fanta.
- Where that man come from. Fiddler? - Junction. Ames say.
- That's 15. 20 miles. - Days. Fiddler. How many days?
Even if I knew. I wouldn't tell you!
Now let loose my fiddle!
- Fiddler! - Yes. Sir.
You've never heard a black make music like this one.
I've heard a number of them. They all have that flair.
Dancing and happiness. It's inborn. Nature of the beast.
- Come along. Fiddler. - Yes. Sir!
Stand up straight. Now.
You wants to see my Auralia. Mr. Ames?
Don't be like that.
He like to give you a new calico.
You been talking about a new calico. Sn get in.
Oh. It's all right, child.
Get inside.
"Find me some flowers."
Mrs. Reynolds wants to decorate for Massa Reynolds' birthday.
Flowers. This time of year.
Birthday? What's that?
Massa's birthday next biggest thing to Christmas.
And what's that? Christmas?
Bunch of answers to that.
Christmas was when Jesus up and got himself born.
When white folks gives each other what none of them need.
Mostly it's the one time of year we gets to eat good!
Get so I can burp and say my amens at the same time.
Christmas happen at nighttime. Fiddler?
It happen when it happen. I reckon. How come?
I don't see Auralia no more at night. She always with Mr. Ames.
- What they doing in there? - What they doing?
What you think they be doing? Mr. Ames grunting and puffing...
- ...till dawn? - I hear.
They be doing the same way they does back in Africa. I reckon.
Her and Mr. Ames...
you think they talk?
I suppose she ain't said nothing...
'cause if she do. I'd know.
Never did figure out what that girl say she saw.
Hey. Toby. Look what I got from the kitchen!
I got...
Damn you! Didn't you think nothing about me?
- About you. Fiddler? - Yeah. Me. Me. Me. me!
You know what's gonna happen to me?
I gets to sleep on a mud floor!
I gets to eat after the pigs.
You was mine to turn into a good nigger.
You go running off and everything I worked for. It'll all be gone!
- Fiddler want me stay? - No!
You can't stay with them broke-off chains!
You done done it to me now!
You done done it. So you got to go now. Tonight!
Ames see you with them leg-irons broke. He'll go hard on you.
Fiddler come with Kunta.
No.
It's too cold and I'm too old.
Hound dogs would catch us before we get more than two miles!
By yourself you got a chance maybe.
Not much. But a little.
You should've left them chains alone.
Chains ain't right for a nigger. Fiddler.
Lord. You sure is some mighty child!
Here.
Kunta never forget you.
You help Kunta be free.
What it like to be free. African?
What it like?
Must be something special.
Out. Buy. Out!
Get the dog off him.
Get up!
I know you understand me.
Toby.
You're going to learn to answer to your name.
Fiddler!
Fiddler! They got him!
Miss Reynolds?
- Yes? - Pardon me. Ma'am. But...
could I see Massa Reynolds?
I believe he's studying the scriptures.
The man's a Christian saint. He is. But it's powerful important.
- Very well. You will wait here. - Yes. Ma'am.
James.
Put some oil on it. It's a bit dry.
He'll see you now.
- Thank you. - Don't overstay your welcome.
No. Miss Reynolds. Would never do that.
Take him up.
Tie him off.
Fiddler. He's a runaway.
I cannot countenance that sort of behavior.
- Do you understand "countenance"? - Yes.
But you told me he was mine when we was bringing him back...
But since he ran away. You didn't do a very good job.
Isn't that a fair deduction?
- You understand "deduction"? - Yes. Massa. I understand...
Mind your tone. Mind your tone.
Mind it well.
Some adjustments will be forthcoming...
- ...as a result of all this. - Yes. Sir.
I just hates to see a prime field hand ruined...
I want every buck and wench to the barn!
You paid good money for that African Guinea man. You shouldn't...
You're going to see how a bad nigger gets turned good.
You got a investment.
Lord God!
- Are you quite finished. Fiddler? - Yes. Massa.
- Old Fiddler's finished. Right enough. - That is correct.
Mr. Ames is now in charge of the African.
You failed me. And what we'll do about that...
we'll discuss at a later time.
Yes. Sir.
James.
Your name is Toby.
I want to hear you say it.
Your name is Toby.
You are going to learn your name. Let me hear you say it.
What's your name?
Kunta. Kunta Kinte.
When the master gives you something. You take it.
He gave you a name.
It's a nice name.
It's Toby.
And it's going to be yours till the day you die.
Now. I know you understand me. And I want to hear it.
Again!
I want to hear you say your name.
Your name is Toby.
What's your name?
Kunta.
Lord. God. Help that boy.
They gonna whup him dead.
What's your name?
Say it.
Toby.
Who are you? Say your name.
What's your name?
Toby.
Aye. Say it again.
Say it louder so we can hear. What's your name?
Toby.
My name...
- ...is Toby. - Aye.
That's a good nigger.
Cut him down.
Don't you care what that white man call you.
Make you say Toby.
What you care?
You know who you be.
Kunta.
That's who you always be.
Kunta Kinte.
There's gonna be another day.
You hear me?
There's gonna be another day!
Subtitles by SDI Media Group
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