Malcolm took life very seriously, and there was no hint of humor in him whatsoever. He’d grown up in Ireland and his parents had not only embraced Christianity, they exemplified it in their daily lives; his father was a deacon at their local church, he took it very seriously and studied the Bible in the evenings as he sat in a rocking chair by the fire, and it was his habit to work on a sermon just in case he was called to preach so Malcolm was exposed to religion both at home and at church. He felt a calling to spread the Word of God to other parts of the world, and when he learned of wealthy families going to America advertising for help, he left home and went to England in search of a new life. He walked a good deal of his journey after he set foot on the ‘big’ island, with a ride here and there from farmers or traveling merchants. He would sleep on the side of the road he was on and eat whatever he could find, likening himself to John the Baptist, but stopping short of eating locusts and honey. When he reached a port and found employment Malcolm was wizened if not exactly mature, his body was honed into a compact machine and he was ready to be a servant of God.
After he had accepted a two year position with Jackson Burgess and was settled on board with the family, all their belongings and an incredible number of servants he started to realize that his life would be very different than he had envisioned. He wasn’t even yet certain precisely what he would be doing once they reached the new world aside from helping to get everything up and running, whatever that meant. Malcolm was free to do as he wished during the trip overseas, and he used the time to study his worn out Bible as best he could. He practically had it memorized anyway, but sometimes he’d find new meaning in things and the more he read and prayed the more he felt uplifted and filled with Godliness.
When they were about two days away from their destination Jackson sought Malcolm out and sat with him and discussed his future on the plantation when it was completed, which should be close enough now for them to get started almost as soon as they landed. Jackson told him about the whole setup and Malcolm’s place in it, having taken note that he was a righteous man. He offered to build a chapel on the grounds so that Malcolm would have a place to lead worship service and provide baptisms by water for the servants and slaves, and to let Malcolm have control of the slaves they would be buying. All he could do was to nod his head at each of these revelations since it was spinning with so many wondrous thoughts, firmly believing that it was all God’s will that had brought him to this place where he could live out his dream of shepherding a flock.
Thinking back, he knew he had been very naive after finding out that his flock spoke a variety of languages, and none of them English. So his first job was to teach them to understand and speak it in order for them to even be able to follow orders, let alone learn about God and His will for them. Having nobody else to call on, Malcolm had done a lot of praying and fasting looking for answers and guidance. He was able to discern the ones who were ‘in charge’ of their little herds and these were the ones he took aside and instructed, leaving it to them to teach the rest. It was a good system and now he didn’t have to do anything, they just taught the new ones as they came in.
That wouldn’t help him with this group right now, so he led the way and used gestures to show them where they were being met and further dispersed. The chapel had been built at the end of a row of little houses that were lined up on either side of the dirt path they were walking down, and in the middle was a small clearing with a post in the middle, which had two leather straps hanging from the top. The ground around showed evidence of many people having been there and a struggle had ensued, and it was in fact, the whipping post for those individuals who were rebellious and couldn’t be controlled otherwise. Malcolm took them right through it and down a few houses to one on the right where an older black woman was standing out front, waiting for them. She quietly spoke as she guided them with a comforting hand on their elbow as they went in, where others like her were waiting for them inside. Each one took a new slave and led them away to other houses, where they would become members and eventually workers in the fields.
At this point Malcolm had turned back towards his office to make note in his records of the new arrivals age and gender. He felt that they were going to be fairly easy to assimilate into life on the plantation; this group must be from the New Indian slave runners because they always made sure their cargo was ready to go, doing what they’re told and happy to be away from their captors. He had wondered in the beginning how they accomplished it, but he really didn’t want to know. Some things were better left alone, and he’d learned the hard way after accidentally stumbling upon what he thougth was an actual murder in progress. He had simply let instinct take over and had run at the man who was wielding a knife and seemingly attempting to use it against what he thought was an unarmed lady, only to trip over her purse which sent him hurling into the man’s legs. As the man fell, his arms went out automatically and the one holding the knife cut her leg and she shot him with a gun she’d been hiding behind her parasol, as she had apparently been planning to do in the first place. Then she turned towards him, prepared to shoot him as well but he had started running the moment the man had hit the ground and he got a bullet in his left butt cheek for his efforts. He felt it was God’s way of conveying that lesson, and he certainly remembered it - every time he sat down wrong.
Now that he was done with that chore, he made his way to the back kitchen for a bite to eat. He noticed that the carriage and horses had been put away and decided to just have a look at the livestock for himself. He loved the big animals and how soft their noses were when he petted them, and how they smelled like the outdoors and warm hide and they loved it when he came to visit. He secretly hoped to catch Talbert screwing up one day; they didn’t hit it off right from the start. Malcolm had introduced himself as “a servant of God and Jackson Burgess, in that order”, welcoming him to the plantation, offering him any assistance he could give and asking him to come to Sunday service at the little chapel where he was the pastor of their little flock. Talbert looked him in the eye and told him straight that he appreciated it and all that, but not to bother repeating his invitation, which he flatly turned down and walked away. Well, today was not that day; as usual the man had done his job properly and there was nothing to complain about - even knowing he was being petty.
When he finished attending to the cows and horses he put everything back in place, blew out the lanterns and closed the stables back up, then continued on his way to supper. As always, Maggie had a large plate of food and a cup of tea ready for him and he thanked her before sitting down, giving thanks to the Lord and enjoying each bite as it went down. There was still time to check on the newcomers then study his Bible for a bit prior to retiring. He went down the hall to use the toilet and wash up properly, grateful for the hot water the cook had put in there while he ate. He gave her a brief smile to show his appreciation for her efforts and she smiled back in return and told him she enjoyed doing it for him, then he left with a full belly and a good feeling about life in general. He decided to wait until morning to look in on the new slaves and instead went straight to his rooms behind the office and studied until bedtime. When his head hit the pillow he felt at peace with God and the world and slept through the night with only flittering thoughts and dreams, nothing that he could remember when he woke up the next day. Malcolm felt truly blessed.