PaNene smiled easily as the exact sequence of events that would take place at the discovery of the missing slaves played in his head over and over again. “May our ancestors save this day,” he mumbled and took the first step of his daily around-the-hut walks. “And may they save us too,” he added.
In the seven years that he’d run the Fort, Longstands had never had a worse night; all night, he tossed and turned on his bed like a boat lost at sea without crew or captain. Most of the time he spent staring at the ceiling, marvelling at the ingenuity of the design and construction carried out by a bunch of uneducated slaves—it was the only way he could keep his mind from jumping over the cliff into the pit of insanity that his wife and son had dug for him. He counted the logs that interlocked to produce the web of a ceiling that he was starring at—one hundred and seventy five—“Magical,” he whispered in admiration.
He considered the mosquitoes darting about angrily, he didn’t like them; their song irritated him and all night he listened to them humming like the grumpy old lady. But he was safe from their bites; enveloped in the huge mosquito net that hung from the ceiling and engulfed his bed. He thought about the cry of the mosquitoes and compared it to the sound that came from somewhere deep down his wife’s throat as she snored away. He concluded that if he had to choose, he’d go for the mosquitoes.
After many hours of allowing his attention to dart from one object in the room to the other, and a vigorous attempt to discourage his mind from considering the matter that he must face soon, he noticed the approach of dawn and his head ached instantly. How was he to put out the fire in his camp, without leaving anybody in the cold, he wondered. His wife would not accept anything short of sending Ashana and her mother away. Nathan, on the other hand, had made it abundantly clear that he was in love with Ashana and wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of his plan to be with her. “When it rains it pours,” he said, slipping into his slippers. It was time to take a walk around the quarters; he needed to think and clear his head before the Fort woke up.
A feeling of deep satisfaction overtook Nathan as he took a second look at the piece of paper in his right hand; he repeated the words on the list and nodded; satisfied.
“Come.”
“Go.”
“Sit.”
“Wait.”
“Eat.”
“Play….”
He’d concluded his compilation of a group of English words he intended to teach Ashana. He too hadn’t been able to sleep; he’d been very excited about teaching Ashana English words and couldn’t wait for the night to give way for dawn so he could begin his classes. By this time next year, he thought, Ashana would be speaking very good, if not very fluent English.
The day before, he’d sent Edwards to Ashana’s hut, specifically instructing him to inform her once again that she was no longer permitted to go to the plantation or engage in any form of menial work and neither was her mother. “Tell me Edwards, what was her reaction? Was she happy?” he asked Edwards when he returned.
“Massa, yes, Ashana excellent happy,” Edwards lied. Edwards had made it a point of duty to watch Ashana for any signs of gratitude on her face when he informed her of Nathan’s gesture of kindness but there was really nothing to write home about. She had merely told Edwards to convey her appreciation to big Massa’s son for the kind gesture, but it was flat and completely devoid of any emotion.
“That’s it, surely she must have been elated and joyful; tell me all and more,” Nathan said excitedly.
“She say Massa very excellent good,” Edwards said, struggling with his translation as much as with the lies he had to manufacture on the spot. “Ashana Massa love, plenty happy,” he added.
“She said that?”
“Yes Massa.”
“I mean, did she ask you to tell me that?”
“Yes Massa.”
“In those exact words?”
“Yes Massa.” Edwards agreed to all Nathan’s questions, fully aware that he was digging a hole big enough to swallow him.
“She must be feeling surprised,” Nathan said, almost to himself.
“Yes Massa?”
“No, not you Edwards. Thanks much, you can go, I was just talking to myself,” Nathan said, smiling at Edwards. He knew how Ashana probably felt; she must have been not only suspicious, but scared and confused.
“I’ll have to go slow with her,” he said to himself again, something he had caught himself doing a lot more often since he’d arrived at the Fort and laid eyes on Ashana. “Allow her to fall in love with me naturally and without any form of coercion.”
On many occasions, he had struggled with the possibility that the girl mightn’t be as much in love with him as he was with her. He was taking a lot at risk, engaging in an all-out war with his parents over a girl he wasn’t sure loved him or would ever love him.
Blackmailing his father was a very heinous offense; something he didn’t know if his father would ever forgive or forget. He sincerely hoped that his father would stop the hypocrisy and allow him to lead his life the way he wanted, to avoid the unnecessary fight they were engaged in. He still loved his father though he had lost some respect for him after he discovered the diary. But he’d lost even more when Longstands decided to side with his mother to stop him from being with a girl no more different from the girl Longstands had an affair with and for whom his diary was full of confessions of love, praises, and admirations. The reality was that Nathan didn’t care if his father forgave him or not; the man’s hypocrisy simply disgusted him. And he was aware that his father was spending a great deal of his time trying to figure out where the diary was hidden and most likely plotting ways to retrieve it. But he knew his father very well—the man was a successful war strategist, recognized and respected by his country so Nathan had taken all precautions in advance. Even though he’d never expected to use the diary as a tool for blackmail, he knew that it was something to be handled with care. Way before the trip, he had deposited it in a safety box in a bank out of town under a different name. He’d torn out a page only at the last minute because he simply wanted a friendly discussion with his father about his half-brother or sister.
“Son, all I want to know is that the diary is safe and in a place where it is not likely to fall in the hands of people that might use it to gravely harm me,” Longstands had pleaded with him on one occasion.
“Yes Father, it is safe but I am not telling you where it is,” he’d replied.
“I am sure you are aware of the kind of danger you could expose me to by even the slightest carelessness with that diary, Nathan.”
“Please Father, you were careless enough not know where it was for all these years and it didn’t seem to bother you, so why do you want to make me feel guilty now? Besides, why is it such a dangerous book? After all, the contents are genuine confession of feelings you felt for a human being, not an animal; I don’t see any problem with that.”
“Very well then,” Longstands barked and stormed out of his son’s room. The boy was simply impossible and he was determined to try another strategy.
Barely two days after the conversation with his father, Nathan returned from the beach earlier than usual only to find three slaves standing in his room. They were startled by his presence and made to leave immediately but he ordered them to sit down. It was totally suspicious that three men were needed to clean his room; something that took a female slave less than twenty minutes to do. In less than ten minutes, Edwards joined them. “Ask them what they are doing here and tell them that I already know what it is and who sent them. If they lie to me they’ll receive the worst punishment they could ever imagine but if they tell the truth, I will let them go and never mention it ever,” Nathan said to Edwards. Then he sat down and watched Edwards struggle to translate.
When Edwards was done translating, Nathan watched the slaves consult each other and then give Edwards their response.
“Yes?” Nathan said, feigning impatience.
“M
assa, tell us look for book,” Edwards told Nathan; fear evident in his eyes. The last thing a slave wanted to do was cause a squabble between a Massa and his son and Edwards definitely didn’t want to be part of it.
“It’s okay; tell them they can leave now.”
The slaves scrambled to their feet even before Edwards finished his translation and vanished from the room.
“Edwards, quickly go and tell them that I said when they see my father they should not tell him what happened. They should simply tell him they didn’t find the book. Go quickly Edwards,” Nathan added.
“Yes Massa.” Edwards nodded and scurried out of the room. Nathan lay in his bed and laughed quietly, deciding that he’d pretend not to know about his father’s latest attempt to find the diary in his room.
He was still thinking about his parents and how funny they could be when a knock on his door paused his thought. “Yes, who is it?”
“You have mail Nathan.” It was his father’s voice.
“Mail?” he replied jumping to his feet and snatching a nearly battered brown envelope from his father’s hand.
“Thanks!” he said and locked his door. His name was handwritten on the envelope and the writing looked awfully familiar but his brains were still in disarray, trying to figure out who could possibly have his address in the West Indies. He sank into his bed and tore open the envelope.
How do you do Nathan, I hope that my missive does not meet you in surprise. If you were wondering I am perfectly okay, a bit lonely and bored but okay. How are you down there in the West Indies, having loads of fun I suppose, I hope you are keeping a diary, I need all the gist when you return and I mean everything.
Suppose you were wondering how I got your address, it was from my father, she would not stop bugging me, I think it is about time we told them that we are not in love with each other, I am totally sick of it, my father and your parents trying to set us up, what shall I do? Christian is tired of hiding in the dark and is threatening to call it quits if I don’t do something about it. I honestly think that the sooner we let our parents know that we are not in love, not in a relationship and have no such intentions the quicker I can introduce Christian to them.
Write me soon, tell me what you think but use Jennifer’s address, I don’t trust my father to not snoop on my mails.
Be good and write soon.
Victoria.
After a third read, Nathan finally laid the letter down on the bed next to him. He was convinced that his parents had a hand in making sure that his address in the West Indies somehow found its way into Victoria’s hands.
But he was happy; there was now a way to communicate with his best friend; the only person who knew him better than anyone else. Victoria Shillingford and Nathan had realized from the word go that their parents were trying to set them up and that the move was purely politically-motivated. On that same day, they also realized that they were more interested in each other as friends and nothing beyond that. At the time, Nathan was seeing a girl called Clara and Victoria was seeing a guy called Christopher but they had managed to keep their relationships secret and successfully fooled their parents into believing that they were seeing each other.
After moments of staring at the ceiling with a lingering smile on his face, Nathan jumped out of bed and ran out of his room. “I need you to have someone prepare me a horse. I need to be taken to the post office in Roseau immediately—Sorry, I think an hour would be the least I need,” he told Edwards.
“Son, you could have asked me about the post office, besides I was on my way to Roseau; I can take you there and maybe show you a few other places and people while there,” Longstands said, giving Nathan a betraying look.
“I am terribly sorry, Father–did not want to bother you at all, maybe another time, I have already arranged to ride with Edwards—I mean Edwards is arranging someone to ride with me to Roseau,” Nathan replied and disappeared into his bedroom. It took him over an hour to complete his letter to Victoria; it was a four-page- long letter and in it, he had detailed the entire happenings at the Fort since he arrived. He talked about Ashana and his intentions for her, his blackmailing scheme against his father, but not in details, and then his mother’s obvious obsession with getting rid of Ashana just to frustrate his effort. After reading the letter over a few times, he concluded he had everything he wanted to tell Victoria in it and then smiled as he licked the envelope and sealed it.
Victoria might not agree with his relationship with a slave girl but she would respect his choice and that was all he wanted. She might also scold him for endangering his relationship with his parents for a girl who was yet to say the words ‘I love you’ to him. But she knew he was a firm believer in love and was as stubborn as hell for whatever he set his mind to do. He was willing to wait until Ashana saw the truth and willingly offered her love to him at a time when she was comfortable to do so. There was no doubt that it would be a slow and long process but all he needed was to start and that was what he planned—as soon as it was dawn, he intended to go with Edwards to her hut and under the tree that was in front of her hut, she would receive her ‘Elementary English Crash Course.’
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Chapter Nineteen
T
hey ran through the open expanse of dry cane field like kids jumping and dancing, as if they had reached their destination. The realization that they had actually survived the tunnel, triggered such intense happiness that Ashana and Jonah could not help but scream at the top of their voices. Looking up into the seemingly unending sea of dry cane trees, Jonah saw a tall tree with branches that extended in different directions and leaves whose abundant green contrasted sharply with those of the brown cane trees. “Over there, Ashana,” he shouted, excitedly pointing in the direction of the tree.
“What? Where?” she asked, her eyes sweeping the field from left to right.
“Over there, straight ahead,” Jonah said, positioning himself behind Ashana, holding her head in his palms and guiding it in the direction of the tree.
“Can you see the tree?” he whispered into her right ear.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she said, jumping excitedly, then turning around to hug him.
The two ran through the cane field as fast as they could, speeding wildly towards the mango tree. As they sat in the shade provided by the tree, Ashana’s head on Jonah’s lap, with her eyes looking right up into his, she asked, “What do you think happened to that big snake that glided over us in the tunnel?”
“Honestly, Ash, I really don’t know and don’t really care to know. Whatever happened to it to keep it occupied and away from us was a good thing, at least for us,” Jonah replied, caressing her face and admiring her voluptuous lips. He ran his index finger along the lines of her perfectly symmetrical jaws. “You are beautiful,” he added.
“You are brave,” she said adoringly.
“I don’t know what would have happened to us if you didn’t believe in me, even when it seemed like I didn’t know what I was doing; truly it was your trust and belief in me that gave me all the push that I needed.”
She smiled shyly and looked into his eyes while tears of joy travelled down the sides of her cheeks. “Please don’t do that Jonah; you know you are the strong one, the courageous and brave man that I love, my life couldn’t have been complete without you and there is no way we could have made it here if it was not for your determination and strength,” she said, returning the praise to Jonah.
For a while she was quiet then she slowly sat up and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a hug that was rooted in great admiration and respect for him. As she pressed her body strongly against his, he hugged her back without hesitation and they both fell to the ground and rolled down a slight hill until they lay on their backs a few inches from each other, staring into the web of branches that the leaves of the mango tree stuck into. He reached out his right hand and she gave him her left hand; their fingers touched and then interlocked.
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At the Fort there was nothing unusual about that specific morning; the slaves had folded the mats that lay between their bodies and the hard mud floor the night before and went about their Fort morning duties as usual. They had swept the yard, watered the plants and had their usual meagre breakfast before heading to the line-up spot close to the Fort’s exit.
The assistant slave master, Anthony was already there, standing with his legs spread apart and his hands behind his back like a military captain inspecting his troops. It was something he did every morning, a part of his morning routine; he would wait for the slaves to arrive and line up facing him. Then he’d give them a few minutes to quiet down as they adjusted the human line that they had created. After they’d become quiet and still, he’d walk to the end of the line on his left and begin the counting by standing before each person. The person he stood in front of would say his or her name out loud and Anthony would look on the sheet that he had in his hand and tick off the slave’s name.
When Anthony completed the first round of counting with a frown on his face and proceeded to do a recount, some slaves didn’t make anything of it. After all, the man had a demon in him; it was possible the demon had instructed him to do a recount that morning. But when Anthony embarked on a third recount, the slaves realized that something was amiss. They were still wondering what the problem was when something caught their attention–Anthony had suddenly taken off on a run, speeding off as fast and as wildly as one chased by a swarm of violent bees.
It wasn’t long before the lines broke up into small groups and the noise that ensued was equivalent to that of the open-air African fish market. “Two of us escaped last night,” one of the slaves said at the top of his voice; a voice that was heavy with fear and uncertainty. The chattering in the crowds dissipated immediately and in no time the man was surrounded by those who not only shared his fear but also were hungry for more of whatever information he had.
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