“Barrett, please . . .”
Barrett let him plead a bit longer, and then he let his knife open Murphy’s throat. Blood spewed forth, onto Barrett, some onto Jupiter, as Murphy fell to the ground holding his throat, gurgling in the darkness. Barrett dipped his hand in Murphy’s blood and showed his bloody palm to Kalana. “I offer his blood to you, as well as my allegiance. Please grant me that honor.”
Without emotion, she spoke. “You will have what you need,” Kalana said. “What do I care? Maybe now that you have returned, Dunham’s ghost will leave me.”
• • •
Barrett held the skewered bêche-de-mer over the fire. Jupiter and Archer stared at him in silence.
“You boys seem at a loss for words.”
“You killed him without a second thought,” said Archer.
“I killed a man who burned my ship. A man who killed our host’s brother. A man I knew well. A man who deserved to die. How many anonymous men have the two of you put down for much less? Brothers you are. The two of you love to believe in lies. But I’ll be sure to fix all that. They put a gun in your hand and told you to kill white men. How many white men did you kill?”
Jupiter did not answer, but thought, Too many . . . maybe not enough.
“Who is your man? Whose familiar face did you project onto those soldiers as you aimed your rifle?”
47
Liberia
The Orpheus arrived at the coast. Eager men from the Kru tribe carried the belongings of the new arrivals to the dock. Excited by all she saw, Sonya struggled to take a deep breath. The air was as thick as cotton. It seemed like home in a way. There was a strange sensation of peering through the looking glass: an upside-down re-creation of the South. Black men walked around with obvious wealth, although overdressed for the oppressive heat. The houses, with their wide porches and tall Greek columns, looked so much like the homes on plantations that she shuddered at the sight of them.
They were led to an immigration office. Weary, unfriendly clerks took their information and showed them to the dormitories that they would be staying in until their sponsors arrived.
Sonya told them her situation. They told her she could stay for a month until a proper sponsor arrived. Money was the bottom line. Just like at home—just like the world over.
• • •
The hardest thing to stand was the smell. Too many people packed into such a small space. That heat, that humidity—it was oppressive, suffocating, enough to make her choke.
They had been there long enough to almost exhaust the grace period, and still no word of Jupiter. She began to wonder if he’d ever make it there. She hadn’t realized what a long journey it was—half a world away—ample time for anything to happen. She had not found Mary. Maybe she was gone too; maybe she had married, changed her name, and died. She had only received one letter from the woman in that entire time, and none of the beautiful descriptions in that letter matched what Sonya saw. There were loads of promises, so why wouldn’t they be broken.
She’d refused Sebastian’s offer; she knew what that would mean. That kind of hospitality could never be repaid.
“Could you please check again,” she said to the clerk.
“I have checked, ma’am, and the result is still the same. I think it’s time to accept the reality of your situation. The good news is that you are here. Liberia is the only place in the world for a Negro to enjoy the fruits of liberty. However, we will have to find other lodgings for you and your son. Six months is the limit or I am afraid you will have to return to America. We cannot expect you to wander the streets. We do not allow émigré vagrancy. A woman with your background and complexion might be able to work in the homes of some of our merchants. On the serving staff, of course.”
She didn’t like the haughtiness of his accent, the condescension in his voice as he spoke to her. After coming so far, the thought of becoming a servant again turned her stomach.
“No. I’m sure I should wait.”
The clerk sighed. “The cost of your lodging will be deducted from your future earnings. Isn’t there anyone else?”
There was someone. She showed the clerk the letter. “This was her first name. She was going by Parham as her last name the last time I saw her.”
“Parham . . . I don’t know of any Parhams in Monrovia. I shall check the records. Maybe she married under this name.”
Sonya managed a smile.
“Mamma . . . how long are we going to be here?” asked Jacob.
“Not much longer.”
“Should we have gone with Sebastian?”
No, she thought, I don’t trust him. I don’t trust myself with him. He knew too many tricks. The biggest one being turning a heart of stone into flesh and blood. Where did he learn such a thing? What type of pact with the devil did he make to get that kind of power? She shook her head. “No,” she said, “we couldn’t go with him.” He had warmed places that were cooled by shadow and neglect. She stroked Jacob’s cheek and forehead. He felt like a coal plucked from the fire.
48
Jupiter bathed in a hot spring, resting, thinking of Sonya, thinking of a way out. He tried to see a way forward but it looked murky.
“You cannot trust Barrett,” said a voice behind him. Kalana stood in the shadows. A candle illuminated her face. How long had she been there?
“I don’t have to trust him. I just need his skills.”
“Why? You don’t seem to be the smuggling type.”
“I need to get to Liberia. My family is waiting there for me.”
“Liberia . . . Where is Liberia?”
Jupiter thought a moment. He wasn’t sure himself. “It’s in Africa.”
“Are you from there?”
“No, I was born in America. But some Negroes have left the States to start a new life in Liberia. They think being amongst their own people will give themselves a better chance at freedom and prosperity.”
“It will never work,” whispered Kalana.
“Why not?”
“You have been away too long. It is not your home anymore. No one will recognize you. If you come home and no one recognizes you, then you are a stranger. It’s simple. That’s why we are on this island and not with our people. My sister, my brother, we all had different fathers. The English sailors impregnated our native mothers. The offspring were scattered about, sold as slaves, as whores. Those of us who came back to our islands wore the white man’s clothes, spoke his language—our own language ruined—our accents, our tone is different. The way we see things . . . Even though we miss home, it’s foreign to us. We are strangers to them. It is not such a bad thing.”
The truth of what she said silenced Jupiter. “You don’t miss being part of a tribe?”
“We are a tribe—a tribe of pirates. A tribe is just a group of people that agree on what to remember. How long has it been since you have seen her?”
Jupiter picked up a pebble worn smooth by time. “Seven years.”
“That is a long time. Have you had other women?”
Jupiter’s cheeks felt hot.
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed. She has certainly been with other men. A beautiful woman alone . . . not sure if you are alive or dead. She has needs.”
“How do you know that she’s beautiful? I never said that.”
“She is very beautiful. You have traveled around the world to find her. She is a goddess. I have been told by a few men that I am beautiful.”
Jupiter took in the strangeness of her appearance—a captain’s jacket and a man’s shirt revealing the curve of her bosom. Wild hair that mimicked the untamed growth of the surrounding jungle. She was definitely beautiful. She kissed Jupiter hard and forced his hand between her legs, but he pushed her away when he thought of the last woman who had kissed him with such passion.
“I’m sorry. Now that I know she’s aliv
e, and that she’s out there looking for me . . . I can’t.”
Kalana stood. “Do not apologize. I am not offended. But if a man can be with a woman before a battle, it is a good idea that he do so. He may not survive.”
“I know I’ll survive,” said Jupiter. “I am not a perfect man, by any means, but I want to be able to look my son in the eye when I see him again. I want him to know that ever since I learned that he was on this earth, I have tried to make the right choices.”
“You didn’t do what you thought was right before you learned of him?”
“I did,” said Jupiter, “but I was wrong most of the time.”
“I understand how complicated fathers can be, but you should not have to be perfect to look your son in the eye. You should be man enough to look him in the eye and admit that you are not perfect. Otherwise, you are of no use to him.”
49
They advanced through the brush with Kalana and her sister in front. Barrett hacked his way through the unyielding foliage with his machete.
“We’ll have to get free of him,” Jupiter said to Archer. “You see that now.”
Archer nodded with hesitation. “But how will we get back? We’ve no money, nothing to barter with, and we look and smell like shit. Should we go to one of these merchants and tell them our story? They’d laugh in our faces. Which one of them hasn’t crimped a sailor or two for their vessels?”
“You’re right,” said Jupiter, “it is foolish, but either we die by the madness of Barrett’s plan, or we live by the foolish pursuit of our own. By the way things stand, I’d bet on us.”
Archer looked at him and stayed silent. “Stop,” Kalana said. “I hear something.” Gunfire seemed to come at them from all directions. Some of the men retreated into the jungle. Jupiter and Archer dropped to their bellies, searching the foliage for the shooters.
Barrett pointed to two men in trees. Archer took down both of them, and then tried to reload. Nothing moved. “Damn.”
A screaming man emerged from the trees and ran at them. Jupiter did not trust the range of these weapons. He let the man get closer and pretended to struggle with his gun. The man fired two shots and missed. Jupiter raised his gun and pulled the trigger. The man held his stomach and fell to the ground. He wasn’t dead. He clawed his way toward Jupiter until Archer stood over him and fired. “We’ll have to let them get close. These things have less range than a slingshot.”
They stayed low and looked for Barrett. They found him on his knees at the edge of a small blood-tinted pond. He held Kalana’s body.
Jupiter did not approach them. They watched his body rise and fall. They wanted to tell him to keep moving, but they did not have the chance—they felt guns in their backs, and then were told to drop their weapons.
50
“Here they are, Captain Yerby.” The cave was littered with extravagant contraband, ornaments made of precious metals, crates of spices, and exotic flora and fauna: all the fruits—in some form or another—of piracy. But the strangest items were the medical curiosities: shrunken heads in jars, miniature men, deformed animals with two heads, or humans with four arms.
A man sat hunched over a makeshift desk of discarded tea crates of the East India Company, as he scribbled something on parchment. He stroked his bald head as he wrote.
“Are you pirates?” he asked no one in particular.
Jupiter looked at Barrett, as did Archer. The three men were on their knees with their hands bound behind their backs.
Yerby’s man nudged Barrett with the butt of his rifle. “No, we are not pirates,” he said.
Yerby kept his back to them. “You are not pirates, yet you arrived here on a stolen British ship.”
“We arrived here on a British ship, but it is not we who stole it.”
“I know it’s stolen. I supplied it with a few of its prisoners not too long ago. Now the ship has returned, yet none of its prisoners remain.”
“Are you claiming we stole prisoners? For what purpose?”
“Sold them into bondage, perhaps. They’d fetch a hefty sum working the guano trade. I’m sure most of them would prefer an eternity of digging for dung to a few years on the colony.”
“Not a bad idea,” Barrett whispered.
Yerby turned around. His face was weathered. One eye was milky. He had the look of an aristocrat gone mad. “Do you see? I am a subject of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. I am only here at Her Majesty’s pleasure. I supply the ship with prisoners intended for the colony, and it returns to me without none of said prisoners on board. What would happen if such a thing got back to Britain?”
Not a word from the three men.
“Answer me!”
“It would not be a good thing, I suppose,” said Jupiter.
“No, it would not be a good thing. The British are not keen to embarrassment. I know this from personal experience. I represented Britain in its dealings with China. I made certain our merchants were treated fairly, and most importantly, that our opium continued to reach their shores without impediment. But one of the Hong merchants became impudent, and I put the bastard in his place. His Hong cohort demanded that I apologize. I refused. A riot—a small one, mind you—broke out in the port town’s square. This compromised trade. In a way, I was exiled. But I guess you could say it was a good thing, because I was allowed to roam free and discover who I am. Free to help Her Majesty in the best way as I see fit—like hunting pirates. I track them down and return the cargoes they have stolen to the rightful owners—for a percentage of their value.”
“A finder’s fee,” said Barrett.
“Should I not be compensated for my efforts?”
Barrett liked him. If it were not apparent that they would be dying soon, he might have smiled. “I believe I’ve heard that story. Was the man you mentioned named Xiao Pei?”
“Possibly. All their names sound like the screeches of vultures to me.”
“No one knew what became of him.”
“I know exactly what became of him.”
“Was he here?” asked Barrett.
Yerby smirked. “Not was, is.”
Barrett glanced at the cabinet and its gruesome jars.
“What are your names?” Yerby asked, looking at Barrett.
“My name is Captain Barrett, formerly of the Intono.”
“And now a captain of a British prison ship? Funny, you don’t sound British. American, I presume?”
“The sea is my country,” Barrett said.
Yerby laughed. “How charming you are, Captain Barrett. How did you come to be in possession of our ship? You seem like a man that does not let go of things too easily. So how did you lose your ship and come into possession of the inmates?”
“My ship was overtaken by the men who overtook your officers and stole the Queen’s ship. They had wandered out to sea. They were sick and without rations. They spotted my ship and boarded as British officers. Obviously, we are friends of the Queen, so we let them on board when we saw their uniforms, but it wasn’t long before they showed their true colors.”
Yerby seemed to mull over Barrett’s statement. “And where are these men—these prisoners—who overtook our men?”
“Well,” said Barrett, “they are tending to my ship at the bottom of the sea.”
Yerby laughed. “I see. No survivors?”
“No. I killed the last one not but one hour ago.”
“Sir, are you saying that you killed a British prisoner?”
“Like I said, Captain. He overtook my ship and we were forced aboard the British vessel.”
“So, this man you killed, he overtook your ship and you brought him back to our vessel? You didn’t kill him once he tried to seize your ship?”
Barrett seemed confused to Jupiter. “No. He was on your ship when we boarded. He was bound. He claimed he was bound by the other prisone
rs. We untied him and sailed to the island.”
“But you killed him?”
“Aye, I found him to be false.”
“You found him to be false? My God, Captain Barrett, you are an interesting fellow. Judge and jury, you are.”
“He—”
“Go ahead, Barrett.”
“I knew him in a previous life. It seems he spotted my ship, planned to overtake me, but stayed on board so that I would not recognize him. He’d hoped his fellows would do a fine job of ridding the world of me.”
“I see. So this man that you have killed—who was a prisoner—was a friend of yours, but through this ordeal, you found him to be false and you did away with him? My, there truly is no honor among thieves.”
“No, there is not,” said Barrett.
“Well, I am sorry for the loss of your ship, Captain Barrett. I know how hard that can be. But the reality is that you were on a stolen vessel. It docked here, on the south side of the island. You could have easily brought it to our ports on the north side, waved the white flag and so forth, and told us of your ordeal. However, my men say they found you in the jungle, with naked savages carrying rations to ship. So one could assume you intended to set sail again with the property of the Queen. So what am I to do with your story? How am I to take it? It’s quite entertaining, but it lacks the necessary ingredients to be convincing.”
“I see your point,” said Barrett. “I’ve put you in a difficult situation. Do what you must.”
Archer stepped forward. “Barrett, don’t—”
“Who is this man?” the British captain asked.
Archer looked at Jupiter, who shook his head cautiously. “Sir, we were kidnapped by this man,” Archer said, pointing to Barrett. “Crimped and shanghaied from the port of San Francisco some weeks ago.”
“My, you are a busy fellow, Barrett. Stealing men and ships.” He turned to Archer. “So you are claiming that Captain Barrett abducted you?”
“Yes,” said Archer. “We have done what he demands in hope of one day returning home.”
The Abduction of Smith and Smith Page 16