"Look at him," she muttered. "Lord of the field. I want to nurse this babe forever, so he will forget about assigning me a mate."
Birdie grunted in reply. Freddy glanced at her. Birdie's wary eyes were focused on Sam, the plantation's new driver, who was snapping his whip above the slaves' heads and bellowing threats of flogging and worse if they didn't speed up their work. Freddy watched him. A tall, striking mulatto from Bridgetown, Sam was rumored to be a bounty hunter who had helped catch the rebels in July. One day she overheard Paulina telling Mrs. Pratt that the driver made a lot of money turning the rebels in to the authorities. When Master hired him, he was a free Negro living in Bridgetown. Sam was known as a brutal driver. He had already led two ruthless inspections of the slave quarters, looking for runaways he suspected the field slaves were hiding. Freddy wondered if Sam knew about the cave by the pool. She remembered Una saying that the island's maroons – descendants of escaped slaves – stayed there from time to time. She'd also heard that the maroons helped runaways survive.
Master had purchased so many new slaves, the compound was once again full. None of the newcomers was Coromantee, of course. This time most of them were Ibo. Father Tomas said that two of the Ibo women had committed suicide the first night they were here, slicing their own throats because their husbands had been sold to a different planter.
"Soon, no Master," Birdie murmured. She had been elated to hear of Colin's plan for February. The two friends had stayed in the pool much longer than usual, whispering excitedly. Later, after hours of hushed chatting in the hut they now shared, they had slept only a short time.
The gang was small compared to yesterday. Many of the field slaves had taken ill with severe yellow fever that was raging through the compound. Mrs. Pratt said that the epidemic was the worst in three years. Thankfully, Freddy and Birdie and the children were well. May God and His Saints keep us healthy, she prayed. Birdie was hoping to visit and help the sick this night.
Master stiffly rode his black steed to a far corner of the field, where a young Ibo woman was digging holes. She was a graceful, yellow-skinned beauty named Ezimma. Paulina had been in a royal sulk for weeks because Master fancied this new woman he called Zim. He was spending much more time in the fields, obviously watching her. Of late he appeared at the Big House only to eat and sleep.
"Look," Freddy whispered, nodding toward the planter. Walking to him, Zim swayed slowly on her long legs. Master turned his horse and rode into a thicket of guava trees. She sauntered leisurely behind him, unwrapping the white turban from her head and shaking out her black curls. If the African woman found Master as repulsive as Freddy did, she certainly knew how to mask her feelings. Master usually ordered his slaves to remove all of their traditional African ornamentation. Zim was clearly an exception. Like all the Ibo women, she was bare-breasted. But above her low-slung purple wrapper she wore bright yellow waist beads. A black bead necklace lay between her breasts, and her shoulders were marked with traditional patterns. Freddy had noticed that one of the new men had similar patterns on his back, where they intersected with bloody whip marks. The Ibo were handsome people, but not as strongly muscled as the Coromantees.
"Paulina hates that Zim," Freddy whispered.
"Paulina hate many." Birdie shook her head.
Freddy nodded. "Paulina plays a dangerous game."
Birdie raised her eyebrows.
"She talks with Sam, at his cottage."
Birdie just shrugged.
"I know. May the fool get her come-uppance." And may Master stay obsessed with Zim, Freddy added to herself. It helped to have him distracted by the new woman. He was less likely to harass her and Birdie, or their children. According to Mrs. Pratt, he planned to mate the two of them with Ibo men as soon as they finished nursing the infants. For Freddy, that meant at least a year. Although Efia would be a year old this Christmas, Birdie could continue nursing her for several more months. That should delay Master's breeding plans.
Christmas was just a month away, Freddy realized as the cart lurched ahead. This year she was determined to celebrate Yuletide for the babes. She would swipe a bit of sugar here and a bit of flour there, enough to make sweet treats for them. She had found discarded wood to whittle into toys for two-year-old Raz and one-year-old Laurie, and was saving rags to make dolls for Efia and Kofi. She would ask Father Tomas to say Christmas Mass. Freddy glanced over at Birdie's faded blue vest and smiled to herself. She had the perfect Yule surprise for her friend. She would use forest-green fabric scraps to fashion a new vest, complete with secret pockets hidden inside. She intended to make a similar one for herself, to wear when she left this vile plantation forever.
They rolled into the clearing to dish out the mash, and Sam blew the conch shell that signaled midday break. Birdie stopped the donkey and she and Freddy stepped down to ready the calabash bowls.
CHAPTER 33
February 1656
Freddy spotted the "C" on a green flag fluttering atop the sloop's single mast, and inhaled sharply. It must be him, she thought. The load of sugar cane bounced as she steered around another deep rut and pulled hard on the donkey reins to stop the cart. Shading her eyes against the afternoon sun, she stared at the sloop as it approached from the north, one sail unfurled and catching the breeze. Colin!
"Mama stop," Laurie chirped.
Freddy stroked his silky head as he resumed sucking on a chunk of sugar cane. She glanced around for Birdie but instead spotted the new driver watching her from the mill yard. His other hand held the coiled whip. Her stomach lurching, she scrambled out of the cart and pretended to fix the donkey's bridle. She must be more careful. It was almost time to return to the cookhouse and prepare supper. She could tell Birdie then.
As Freddy jostled toward the mill to deliver the load, along came her friend from the opposite direction. "Psst," she whispered to Birdie as they passed in the narrow lane. Carefully holding her hand in front of her chest so no one else could see, Freddy pointed to the sloop. Birdie gave a mute nod of her head and continued on, her angular face impassive.
Freddy's pulse pounded in her temples. She could see it throbbing in her vision. Be calm, she scolded herself.
Master had ridden to another slave auction and was not expected back for several days. It was time to get the crop in, and the plantation was desperately short-handed. Most of the new slaves had died this past month from yellow fever. Whittingham had left Sam to oversee the beginning of the harvest. Freddy was surprised how thoroughly Master trusted the new man. Sam relished being in charge, taking on airs and demanding that elaborate meals be delivered to his cottage. He strutted arrogantly before the field slaves and wielded his whip with a heavy hand.
Freddy pulled up to the mill and got down to tie the donkey to a post.
"What do you think you're about?" Sam bellowed, striding over to her.
"It's time to prepare supper." Freddy kept her eyes on the donkey reins.
"So soon?" His deep voice boomed.
"Soon!" Laurie cheerfully echoed from his seat in the cart. Sam peered at him through narrowed eyes and walked over to the cart. He leaned over Laurie, looked closely at his face, and very slowly used the whip handle to push the boy's hair off his forehead.
Laurie just looked at Sam curiously, blinking several times.
"We always return to the kitchen at this time," Freddy explained, forcing her voice to sound unruffled. What was this bronze devil up to? If he tried to hurt her boy, she'd – why, she'd – she didn't know what she would do, but she would do something! Watching the whip handle touch Laurie's skin, Freddy hid her trembling hands in the skirt of her shift. Her drumming pulse was now a hammering headache. She took a deep breath and looked up at Sam.
"For what purpose?" The yellow-skinned driver folded his arms in front of his chest, looked her up and down, and widened his stance. He was enjoying himself.
"We must milk, start the fire, grind corn, make butter, prepare meat…" She patted the donkey's neck to busy her s
haking hands, clenched her teeth, and willed herself to behave normally.
Tapping the whip handle against his palm, Sam leaned in close. "I think you and your little friend Birdie have it too easy around here," he murmured in her ear, yanking her chin around to stare into her eyes. "Paulina told me all about the two of you. I will speak to Master Whittingham about this. I know your Coromantee men were the ringleaders…"
She managed to coolly meet his stare. He smelled of tobacco and soap.
He slid his huge hand down and stroked the base of her throat with one thumb.
Her nostrils flaring, she lowered her eyes, trapped against the donkey's side.
"That's right, papist whore," he growled. "Lower those eyes." His hand moved down to stroke her hip. He tucked the whip into his breeches. Then both of his hands were on her hips.
Freddy held her breath, frozen in place.
Laurie kicked his seat. "Go, go!" he blurted, kicking again and rocking impatiently. The skin on Freddy's arms prickled with fear as she struggled to keep her mouth shut. The babe began wailing.
Sam bent down to look at Kofi in the sling. "Don't cry, tiny slave," he crooned. "You'll feel my whip soon enough."
As Freddy again gritted her teeth, the donkey stepped sideways. She patted the babe's back and tried to back away from Sam.
"Mama, go!" Laurie continued.
The tall driver yanked her hips up against his own and held her there until she could feel him. "I will taste this soon," he snarled.
Her eyes still lowered, she feigned an unruffled nonchalance.
Sam released her, and Freddy glimpsed Paulina watching them closely from across the mill yard, her mouth pulled down into a thin, ugly line of hatred.
"What will you bring me for supper?" The driver unhurriedly picked his teeth, again looking Freddy up and down.
"Supper!" Laurie echoed again in his clear voice.
"Ham, pine fruit, cornbread, cold tea, and coconut biscuits," Freddy replied in a dull monotone.
"On your way then," he muttered grudgingly, still studying her. "Tonight you are to wash my clothes as well."
Sam called for some men to unload the cart. Freddy walked briskly toward the cookhouse, catching her breath and allowing little Laurie to run alongside. Relieved to have gotten away from Sam, at least for the moment, she shuddered and hugged the babe. She glanced back. Sam and Paulina were embracing next to the cane mill, his big hands dark against her white dress. Paulina whispered something in his ear and he swatted her backside.
A few minutes later Freddy noticed the driver riding his blond horse toward the field where the Great Gang was harvesting. When she was certain he was gone, she glanced around again. The mill yard was empty.
From here she could see the curving white strand, the shimmering sea, and the sloop. She studied its massive bowsprit, as long as the vessel itself. Would this ship take them to a new life? Freddy's fingers tingled with fear and restless excitement. The time was right to be well away from this hellish place. But she must take extra care, now that Sam was keeping a close watch on her. It was strange, as if he sensed what was in her mind.
"What that?" Laurie asked, pointing to the sea.
"Boat," she whispered, looking around again.
"Boat." The toddler stopped, jammed his fist into his mouth, and watched the sloop with wide eyes.
Into her mind flooded the sharp memory of a blue moonlit night years ago, when she had watched from under a fragrant pine as Colin and the others embarked on their escape in that overcrowded dinghy. Today the fields and sea were green and teal in the slanting, golden sun.
She squatted and hugged Laurie, pressing her face into his tiny shoulder. To see Colin again, and him with his own sloop! What would he make of her half-African son? She quaked with anticipation and apprehension. Since the rebellion, a new Barbados law had been written, calling for runaway slaves to be put to death. The island had even more militia now, and the planters had hired night watchmen. Doubt seized Freddy as she questioned the prudence of Colin's plan. The English could take her children from her. They would hang her if she were caught trying to escape. God banish the very thought! Her wee ones could be made to suffer because of her own foolish actions. Freddy rubbed Kofi's back and squeezed Laurie to her side.
"Owww," he whined, squirming away.
"Too hard?" she whispered. "Sorry…"
"Too hard!" he mimicked, then grinned and rubbed his nose on her cheek.
She must be hopeful, and patient. They must wait to hear from Colin. He would send a message through the Quakers.
The sun glittered so brightly on the sea, the sloop was a mere silhouette floating above it. Freddy had seen its flag, though – Irish green with a golden "C" rippling in the trade wind. Suddenly she stood, shaking her head and wondering if she had gone completely daft, idling and staring at the sloop so.
"To the kitchen with us, then," she told Laurie, cursing herself for being reckless. "I'll give you a coconut biscuit." From the corner of her eye, Freddy thought she saw a movement. She whipped around, scanning the yard where the flash of white had been. Nothing was there. Her head thumping with the sickening rhythm of a worsening headache, she strode to the cookhouse.
"Hung-eee!" her tiny son exclaimed, galloping on his imaginary pony next to her. She forced herself to take a deep breath as her mind darted here and there. Kofi began wailing again. His sharp cries hit Freddy's aching head like arrows. It was past time to nurse him. She would do that when they reached the kitchen. Maybe it would calm her.
Later, she would speak with Birdie, and also tell Father Tomas. They would take him as far as Montserrat. The time had come. They had only to await Colin's word.
CHAPTER 34
February 1656
As he joined the others crouching in the cane below the main road, Father Tomas suddenly hissed, "The devil take it!"
Freddy peered through the cane. In the black night, with only stars lighting the clear sky, she could barely see the priest. It was crucial that they make their way down to the sloop in absolute darkness. There'd been no sleep for them this night. Earlier Father Tomas had slipped the night watchman a jug of rum. The priest had encouraged the man to drink too much, then observed the intoxicated fellow slumping against a mahogany tree and falling fast asleep. Father Tomas said they had plenty of time before the drunk awakened. Freddy had crept to Sam's cottage in the dark. All had been quiet. When she peered through an open window, she'd seen the driver and Paulina tangled together on his narrow bed, asleep.
Their biggest worry was the island's infamous night patrol.
But there were blessings, Freddy reminded herself. The planned route to the sea wound through fields of tall cane that would keep them well hidden. They had the cover of darkness, and narrow lanes to follow through the fields. By carefully walking along the center of the lanes, they could travel through the cane without rustling or jostling the plants. But they must be very careful.
She glanced over at Father Tomas again, and realized that her eyes were adjusting to the starlight. She could see him clearly now.
Freddy and Birdie had hoped to make dark cloaks to wear this night, but could not get fabric. They wore their black mourning bands on their forearms, deliberately covering the skin on which Whittingham had long ago branded his "RW." All three adults had rubbed blackening soot on their faces and arms, to better disappear into the night. But the only one wearing dark clothing was Father Tomas. Freddy was painfully aware of the brightly bleached shift she wore under her new vest. She made a quick Sign of the Cross, praying that the hated white gown would not be spotted by the wrong eyes this night – that those wrong eyes would remain closed in the exhausted sleep of harvest. Everyone on the plantation worked brutally hard this time of year, and was allowed only four hours of precious rest. Colin had chosen the quietest hour, when the estate was still. His plan was to sail away quickly, getting as far from Barbados as possible before their absence was discovered.
The thunder
of horse hooves on the road above sent a startled shiver through Freddy. It sounded as if it was coming from the direction of Bridgetown. The women covered the toddlers' mouths with their hands and hunkered lower in the cane. Earlier they had explained to the older boys that they were going on a pirate adventure, and must be very quiet to keep the bad pirates away. Laurie and Raz were excited about meeting good pirates. Thank the good Lord the babes were sound asleep in the slings. Moments before, when they had crossed the road, no one had been about. Now gold beams of torchlight shifted through the mature cane, and shadows leaped. Probably militia. The sound of pounding hooves faded away, and Freddy heard men's voices.
"All in the merry month of May," someone sang, slurring his words. "When green buds they were swellin'…young Willie Grove on his death-bed lay, for love of Barb'ra Allen."
"Quit yer blasted wailing, Bryan!" another blurted.
Someone else laughed.
"I need a bloody piss," a deep voice muttered, the words running together in an English accent. Leather stirrups squeaked as the man dismounted – directly above them. Freddy put her finger to her mouth and looked at both Raz and Laurie, whose eyes were round with fright. Birdie was so still, she did not seem to be breathing. Boots crunched heavily on the gravel road to a spot about twenty feet down the way. The torchlight was brighter. Shadows swung wildly in the cane tops above them.
A gushing stream rushed into the cane appallingly close to where they crouched. It lasted forever, it seemed, accompanied by deep moans of relief. Raz began to giggle but Birdie instantly removed a biscuit from her vest pocket and stuffed it into his mouth, silently shushing him. Laurie seemed frozen. Father Tomas was motionless. Freddy's heart hammered so loud she feared the man would hear it. Her mouth had gone dry. She could not even think about what would happen, should they be discovered.
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