The Devil's Workshop

by Donnally Miller

  Even though they’d been told not to talk, the slaves were introducing themselves to one another. “My name is Father Clumphy,” said the cloaked man. “I used to be a simple parish priest till God exalted me and gave me a mission to spread the word of the Lord to the Indians. He made of my heart and tongue burning coals whereby He set alight the hope in their souls.”

  “You’re really lucky I’m tired and don’t feel like getting up,” said Bramij, who’d taken a few swigs from his flask. “I have no doubt whatever you’re saying doesn’t matter worth a shit.”

  “What is wrong with talking? Surely our words are not a threat.”

  “I just don’t like hearing that kind of talk.”

  “So that’s what caused the Indians to rise up and attack and led to all the death and destruction in the Forest. And now I’m not sure if that was God’s plan or not, and if it was, well . . .”

  “How do you know God has a plan?” asked Amos.

  “Maybe plan is the wrong word. But there must be some fundamental, guiding intelligence in the world. I myself have read the message God wrote and sent to mankind.”

  “What did it say?”

  Clumphy grew very thoughtful. “. . . The actual words are not important. What is important is to know that the message exists.”

  “If I were God, and I wrote a message and showed it to someone I’d be disappointed if that person said the words of the message were not important.”

  “But you are not God. Of course the words are important, but the meaning of the words is not one that our minds can comprehend. Our minds were given to us to do things like find a mate and get a meal. But we try to use this feeble tool to unlock the mysteries of God’s universe. Is it any wonder there is much we don’t understand?”

  “I’m standing up,” said Bramij.

  “Especially considering it’s so unerring when it comes to finding a mate,” said Breezy Woodchuck. She had mostly been keeping quiet, so when she spoke everyone looked at her.

  “And getting a meal,” Daniel put in. “I’m starved.”

  “And getting a drink,” added Barney.

  Then they all looked at Bramij and kept quiet.

  Bramij hit Clumphy on the back with his stick. “I’m warning the rest of you,” he said. Then he went to his place and sat down.

  They traveled a little further that day and then found a place to camp for the night. Shortly after they’d finished their meal, Harry retired with Breezy Woodchuck to an area he’d set up apart from the others. Soon there were sounds coming from that direction. Clumphy decided he would distract them all from what they were hearing. “It’s my opinion,” he said, “that belief shapes the world. There are those who argue that seeing is believing. But without belief nothing can be seen. Believing is seeing.”

  Breezy Woodchuck’s cries were becoming louder and more anguished.

  “It’s this attribute belief that we attach to some ideas and not to others that shapes the world. The world is really only this present moment we’re sharing. Nothing else exists. Everything else is just things we believe, noise in our heads.”

  “Is no one going to do something?” pleaded Barking Dog.

  “Does anyone disagree with that?” There was no response. The drama being enacted a few feet away was drawing everyone’s attention. “There are many things we all believe, that’s why we can live in the world together and talk to one another. Our beliefs create the universe. It’s not the other way round.”

  No one seemed inclined to dispute this. Barking Dog just gazed into the shadows under the trees.

  Shortly afterward Harry returned to the others. He was dragging Breezy Woodchuck behind him. Her clothing was torn and her hair was bedraggled. He said he wasn’t sleepy. He’d take the first watch and let Dane and Bramij snooze. Everyone slept, or at least pretended to, and there were no more disturbances that night.

  The next morning they captured Tom. They put him at the end of the line behind Pete where he lurched along, getting cursed at by the others every time he tripped over a rock or some unevenness in the path, which happened pretty frequently. He heard the voices of the other slaves in the chain gang and tried to sort them out. As they went along, Clumphy was constantly breaking out in prayers and getting pummeled. Harry had to intervene, noting that Clumphy was showing a lot of bruises. The walk that day felt endless to Tom, just one long nightmare of stumbling and cursing and beating. At one point Harry announced, “I think we’ve got enough now it makes sense to head towards the slave markets. There’s a place near here where we can stock up on supplies, and then we’ll get onto the Coast Road and take it as far as the branch for Indradoon.” He had eight slaves altogether, and one of them a woman. It was a good haul. The Indian wouldn’t bring top dollar on account of Indians being notoriously lazy, but he was worth something. The same went for the blind beggar. So long as he still had enough strength to walk he could be used as a pack animal, or he could pull a sledge or something. He wouldn’t go to waste.

  During the afternoon the slave drivers were pestering Harry about getting their turn with Breezy Woodchuck. He told them if they behaved themselves and stopped beating the merchandise black and blue, that would be their reward. They came to the spot Harry had mentioned and while he was bargaining for some bacon and onions, everyone in the chain gang took the opportunity to rest.

  The minute Barney sat down his eyes closed. He was dead to the world.

  Amos and Daniel had their heads together. They communicated mostly by darting movements of the eyes and fingers, accompanied by the occasional whispered word. None of the others knew what they mumbled about.

  Barking Dog kept trying to justify himself for not taking action last night. He told himself Breezy had been Half Moon’s woman, not his, so why was it his duty to defend her? But at heart he knew he was a coward. In truth, he didn’t see what he could do to rescue her, but if he died in the attempt that would at least clear him of all shame. He just couldn’t convince himself he really wanted to die in the attempt.

  Father Clumphy was turning over what he’d said last night about seeing and believing. There were some things that could be seen without belief, and other things that couldn’t. Maybe it was the difference between ‘believing that’ and ‘believing in.’ But God had vouchsafed him a clue. “I will not marry a wallaby.” Somehow the more he contemplated that statement the more he felt his mind was no longer working. Some mysteries remained beyond the depths the human intellect could comprehend.

  Pete was reviewing his experiences of the past few weeks and wondering how his life had gone so wrong so quickly. For many years he’d lived and worked in Port Jay. He’d supported a family, gone to church and been part of the neighborhood. If someone had told him a few weeks ago that he’d soon be dressed in the uniform of the colonial army, manacled in a chain gang to be sold as a slave he’d have laughed. He’d now come to see the world was a far more dangerous place than he’d ever imagined, and the people in it were far stranger than he could ever have conceived. His old life seemed like a dream from which he’d been awakened to a world of distress and terror, the everyday world we inhabit, all unknowing. And he was starting to take on the slave’s hopeless hope. He couldn’t let himself hope because it hurt to hope when everything in life was beyond his control. But how can one live without hope?

  Tom removed his boot and massaged his injured foot. Whether it was on account of Elijah’s salve, or due to some other reason, his wound was healing. He tried to sort out the voices he heard. The voice of the religious man sounded vaguely familiar, but he was sure he didn’t recognize the others. He’d been afraid he’d be found by Crazy Dog; now he knew there were worse than him. The distrust, foul suspicion, hatred and vengefulness, which were all he saw in those around him, were giving him a very low opinion of humanity. It seemed impossible to imagine that people were worse than they actually were, and he feared whatever he saw in others was but a pale reflection of what was in himself. He saw that all men we
re driven by unjust anger and mad delusion, that they were at odds with all creation and their lives were just the long process of being devoured by evil rancor, till the very roots of life were eaten away and men were estranged even from themselves.

  Breezy Woodchuck sat apart, where Harry had left her. She looked at Bramij, and he wasn’t much to look at, but she said, “You.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Where you taking us?”

  “Indradoon.”

  “Indradoon?”

  “You’re going to be sold in the market there.”

  Breezy made a dismissive shrug. “That’s not where you’ll get the best price.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have you been to Indradoon before?”

  “Lots of times . . . Oh, you mean Indradoon? No, never been there.”

  “Didn’t think so. If you had, you’d know at Indradoon they cheat like hell. They’re all insiders there. They’ll find a way to cut you out. ”

  “Really?”

  “Really . . .”

  “They won’t cut me out. You’ll see. I’m too smart for that.”

  “I know a better place. There’s a place we Indians sell and get top dollar. It’s a secret, but I can lead you there.”

  “Oh no. Don’t do this. You’re trying to trick me.”

  “Do I look like I could trick you? Someone like you, how could I trick you?”

  “People always think they can trick me. I don’t know why.”

  “Listen. Talk to Harry about it.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” His face grew thoughtful as he pondered his next steps. “I’m going to talk to Harry about it.”

  “You do that. If you’re smart, you’ll get –“

  Here she was cut off. Harry had completed his bargaining. “Alright,” he said, “I’ve got food for us all the way to Indradoon. And I’m keeping a tally by the way. What you eat comes out of the price we get at the end.”

  “Tell him,” said Breezy.

  Bramij just gave her a look and walked away. But she saw him thinking something over and whispering to Dane as they resumed their trek.

  Late in the day they found a spot by the side of the trail and settled down for the night. Dane and Bramij were arguing about who was going to go first. Bramij said they should let the lady choose and Dane told him that was a barmy idea and why did it matter to her? They continued to argue as they prepared the meager dinner for the slaves and the blacks started a campfire. Harry was making a stew out of the supplies and getting a headache listening to Dane and Bramij. He finally got so annoyed he told them if they wanted any of the stew they could pay him by giving him another night with the lady. He wouldn’t even take the food they ate tonight out of their tally. There’d be a few more nights before reaching Indradoon and they’d have their chance, but he’d changed his mind and decided he’d keep her for his own another night or two.

  “You changed your mind?” said Dane.

  “That I did.”

  “You changed your mind?”

  “I went to a lot of trouble bargaining for these victuals. I should get something for that. Anyway she prefers me. She’s scared of you two.”

  “If you’re going to change your mind, maybe I’ll change my own mind about helping you. You’re not the only one with a mind he can change.”

  “Go ahead. Leave if you want. I’d like to see how far you get.”

  “Oh, I’ll leave alright. And when I leave I’m taking her with me.”

  At this point, Harry pulled out his pistol. “You’ll do nothing of the sort.”

  “Oh ho. You think that’ll stop me? There’s two of us and only one of you, right, Bramij?”

  “Right,” said Bramij.

  “You showed us how to divide and attack from both sides.” Bramij started creeping around to get in back of Harry. “Are you sure you don’t want to put that pistol away?”

  “I’ll get one of you,” said Harry. “One for sure.”

  “But the other one’ll get you.”

  There was a tense silence. Then Harry put the pistol back in his belt. “There’s no reason to act unfriendly.”

  “Then she’s ours?” asked Dane.

  You could see from his face this was going down hard with Harry, but he nodded his head yes. Breezy Woodchuck had watched all this with no expression, but at this point she looked at Barking Dog. Barking Dog lowered his eyelids and looked away.

  “Dinner’s served,” said Bramij, putting a meager platter of water and some crusts of bread before the slaves.

  “I’m not eating that. I want some of your food,” said Breezy Woodchuck.

  Now everyone was getting stirred up.

  “You’re a slave,” said Harry. “You don’t make demands.”

  “I told you, I’m no slave.”

  Clumphy stood up. “Peace, brothers,” he said.

  “Look, I’m not your bleeding brother,” said Harry. “I own you. Now sit down.” Then he turned to Breezy Woodchuck and told her, “Don’t eat that if you don’t want it. But that’s all you’re getting.”

  She spit in his face. He grabbed her and pulled her away. He started to slap her but then thought better of it. Instead, he turned to Dane and Bramij. “We’ve got a nice little proposition here. All we have to do is grab people and take them to the market and sell them. Once you’ve done that you’ll get all the women you want. Don’t get stupid and greedy now. You’ll mess it up. Why do you have to rape the merchandise?”

  “You do it.”

  “But I know how to do it so it won’t lower the price. Christ, now the stew’s burning. ”

  “I have an idea,” said Bramij.

  “That’s dangerous for you, bro,” said Dane. “I’ll do the thinking.”

  “I was thinking Harry’d make a good slave.”

  “Christ almighty, do you want to wreck everything?” said Harry. Then he capitulated. “Oh hell, she’s all yours.”

  “Peace, brothers,” said Clumphy.

  “Shut up!” Harry shouted at him.

  Bramij said, “I want to eat first. I can’t do it on an empty stomach. You take her.”

  Harry went back to the pot, which was now putting forth a very mouthwatering aroma. “Christ,” he mumbled, “can’t I even make a pot of stew without all of us trying to kill each other?”

  “Peace, brothers,” said Clumphy, “after the killing and destruction we’ve endured, surely we’ve learned –“

  “I told you to shut up!”

  “—that fighting accomplishes nothing –“

  He leapt at Clumphy and battered him. Clumphy went straight down, like a sack of potatoes. Harry stood over him till he was certain he wouldn’t be getting up again and then went back to the stewpot, which was bubbling. “I think it’s ready,” he said.

  Harry, Dane and Bramij sat down to eat, but it seemed they’d lost some appetite. The stew just sat in their bowls making a very juicy smell.

  “I’m making a change,” said Harry. “I’m not keeping her on a separate chain. Shouldn’t have done that. I thought it’d prevent arguments, but it’s just made them worse.” He put a little food in his mouth. “I don’t care who has her. Anyone can . . . We’ll take turns.”

  “I can’t eat,” said Dane. He picked a place a few feet away and led Breezy Woodchuck there. For the slaves, it was honestly hard to know which was worse, the smell of the stew that was going to waste or the lamentations of Breezy Woodchuck. Harry just stared at his bowl, not eating. There were sounds of Dane hitting Breezy.

  “Go further off,” said Harry. Dane dragged her further away, but the Forest was quiet and the sounds they made were impossible to ignore.

  When he was done, Dane returned with the squaw. “Your turn,” he said to Bramij.

  Bramij put his uneaten bowl of stew to one side.

  “Christ, you bruised her face,” said Harry.

  “It’s not bad,” said Dane.

  “It’ll be worse in the morning.”


  “Maybe I’ll bruise your face.”

  Harry just looked at him with malice in his eyes.

  Bramij took Breezy Woodchuck with him into the woods.

  “And move further off,” Harry shouted after him.

  Clumphy had now regained consciousness. Pete and Tom tried to comfort him. It was clear he wanted to talk. “Last night . . . there was a distinction I didn’t draw . . .”

  “Rest. You’ll tire yourself,” said Pete.

  “There’s one thing I can see and you can’t . . . I see that God loves mankind . . . That’s one of those things that can’t be seen unless you believe . . .”

  “There’s no point in anything you’re saying,” said Tom. “Please rest.”

  Clumphy tried to sit up. “It’s not like looking at that tree there . . . You see the pear tree . . . ?”

  “That’s a pear tree? Are you sure?” said Pete.

  “Maybe you think it’s something else. Maybe you think it’s a juniper bush . . . We could dispute about it, but it’s possible to see the pears and then we’d all agree . . . But looking at the universe, not everyone can see the love, not unless one believes . . .”

  “I can’t see any tree,” said Tom.

  “Pardon me for speaking of sight to a blind man . . . It’s just the common word we use when what we mean is understand . . . Pete, bring us a fruit from the tree and then we’ll know. That will prove it’s a pear tree . . .”

  “Sit down and shut up!” shouted Dane. Breezy Woodchuck’s cries could now be heard again mingled with Bramij’s grunts.

  “Oh well . . . You’ll have to take my word for it . . .”

  “Alright, I’ll believe it’s a pear tree,” said Tom. After a while Bramij had finished. The only sound then was the chirring of the crickets. Tom wondered what the crickets were saying. The world they lived in must be very different from the one he lived in, and yet it was the same world. Do the crickets even know I exist?