Island of a Thousand Springs

by Sarah Lark

  However, Elias had no remorse. The seedlings had to be in the ground — as if it mattered whether the plants that needed two years to mature anyway were planted on that day instead of the next.

  Doug was furious; Nora resigned. She already didn’t believe in the success of this intervention, but she was interested in the mention of the word Obeah, as this was the first time she had heard it from the mouth of a white man. Since she had taken over caring for the ill herself on the plantation, it seemed that Máanu and the other slaves were careful not to mention the Obeah man again.

  Nora could not help but feel sorry for Douglas as he clashed with his father. It seemed difficult for the man to regain his bearings on the plantation. No matter what he tried, there was simply no suitable employment for the young master. While Doug would have been willing to take on any task, Elias would have only assigned him to one — but there was no need for Doug’s knowledge of negotiations and commercial law at the present. The sugar cane was harvested, boiled, and sold — the new agreements with merchants and ship owners wouldn’t be needed until the next year. And Doug lacked the practical experience necessary to really be useful on the plantation itself. Although, Nora was always amazed about how many facts regarding sugar cane cultivation and processing the young man could recall, despite his years of absence. But it was quite difficult for him to remember practical things, like how to determine the exact time to harvest a field or when to replace the sails on a windmill.

  Elias made no attempt to help him, but instead ridiculed his son for his general incompetence: “Too lazy to study and too stupid for a planter! We will probably still have to buy a parliamentary seat for you, so that you can be at least halfway useful!”

  Surprisingly, Doug let the insults roll off him without reacting. He dutifully followed his father on his daily inspection rides on the plantation, in the hope of learning something in the process. In reality, it resulted in arguments. Doug might have not known much about wind conditions for the mill, but he had, however, previously driven a team of oxen to an oil mill himself, and knew that it wasn’t the black driver’s fault when the animals were unwilling to move in the midday heat and occasionally even ran away.

  “It’s the flies; they make the beasts crazy,” he said, calmly, while Elias unloaded a good scolding on the two boys. They tried desperately to cobble together the remnants of the harnesses after the oxen had broken loose, overrun the fence around their circular workplace, and fled to the stable.

  “You can rub them with pumpkin leaves or bind them to the bridle, or make a tincture of eucalyptus oil, vinegar, and boiled tea leaves. But I think it’s best to leave the oxen in the stable at lunchtime.”

  Elias reacted to this advice with another fit of anger now directed at his son. Neither humans nor animals were permitted a lunch break. Elias insisted that the slaves reharness the oxen and continue driving the rounds. They were punished with five lashes with a cane.

  Doug endured his father’s outbursts in silence, confused and angry about his father’s ignorance. He forced himself not to complain to Nora, who he had quickly realized was dedicated to the well-being of the slaves. He admired her more and more. On top of the undeniable physical attraction, there was her enthusiasm for the nature of the island, and her efforts for a good relationship with the workers. He was impressed by her medical knowledge and never tired of watching her when she took care of the sick in the mornings. He had to be careful though, as doing that could be fodder for conflict. If Truman tried to call him as a witness to say this or that slave was not as sick at the missis claimed, Doug could sense Máanu, and surprisingly also Akwasi — who was always lingering around the women and late to work often enough because of it — glaring at him, waiting for his response. Doug always took Nora’s side.

  He soon realized that Nora also had no sympathy at all for the Trumans, McAllisters, and especially not for her husband, Elias. He still wondered why this beautiful and rich girl had chosen an old planter from overseas, but he knew that love was not behind it. Doug recognized disgust, and sometimes even hate, in her eyes when she had to attend a punishment that her husband had casually — and frequently — imposed. Ugly scenes almost always ensued between the spouses afterwards, since Nora insisted on dressing the wounds of the men and sometimes also the women. He restrained himself admirably in front of the slaves, but at dinner he assailed Nora with reproaches. She took it all with stride — and then continued doing whatever she wanted.

  Nora fascinated Doug, but she was a closed book to him, as she persistently refused to open up. She avoided every personal conversation and most shared activities. Doug did not understand it, but he also didn’t bother forcing anything. After all, it would only lead to complications if they grew too close — and complications were the last thing that he needed at the moment.

  For her part, Nora found life with Elias’s son to be more and more like a dance with a volcano. She knew from personal experience how quickly Elias Fortnam could explode when things didn’t go his way and now, he was undoubtedly on the brink of a massive eruption against his “wayward” son. Meanwhile, Nora found the suggestions that the young man occasionally brought up at meals to be reasonable. For example, the sugar cane juice needn’t be poured into barrels and strenuously dragged to the cookhouse, but could be routed directly through a wooden trough from the mill.

  “So that’s the point, is it?” Elias sneered. “To protect your dear Negroes, just so that they aren’t overworked! You would prefer to wrap them up in cotton wool like Nora does. But at least she makes herself useful, as there are fewer casualties since she took charge. You should take an example from that. But you—”

  During these tirades, Nora could only lower her head and act occupied with her meal. She hated the burning feud between father and son. And she hated herself for not supporting Doug, which, of course, wouldn’t have helped anything. On the contrary, Elias would have been more enraged and would have also berated Nora. Meanwhile, she was still able to legitimize her helping the blacks with the argument of a merchant’s daughter, as Elias would say with a mixture of pride and irony: if the medical care was better, fewer slaves would die and, thus, fewer would have to be replaced at great expense.

  Doug, however, didn’t manage to argue as skillfully. When faced with his father’s mulishness, his anger made him silent rather than loud. Doug was actually quite eloquent and his study of law should have prepared him well for disputes, but somehow his father always managed to intimidate the young man.

  One day the situation really escalated, and an argument took place in front of all of the plantation’s overseers.

  Elias had purchased new slaves and had then been irritated by their lack of speed at work. He discussed at length how stupid and lazy the Africans were. Doug was exasperated once again by his father.

  “How can them men do it properly and quickly, if you don’t explain what they’re supposed to be doing?” he finally asked.

  “They can’t say anything other than ‘yes, Backra’, and they even say that when they are being whipped. They probably have no idea that it is the opposite of ‘no, Backra’, which would be the correct answer to ‘you stupid, bone-lazy nigger, are you deaf?’ Yesterday, I heard at least twenty different variations of that remark from you, Mr. Truman.”

  “Do it yourself, if you know how to do it so much better,” he yelled at his son. “Give him a whip, McNeil, and let him train a nigger. And tomorrow we’ll see how many seedlings he gets in the ground!”

  Doug didn’t show up at dinner that evening, but Elias told Nora of his degradation with a mixture of anger and amusement.

  Nora decided to object for the first time. “Do you think that was wise, Elias? I thought that as family members we don’t argue in front of the guards. I don’t have to tell you that the majority of them are brutal thugs who exploit one’s every weakness. Even if you’re backra.”

  Elias made a dismissive gesture. “And so what, the boy needs to be put in his pla
ce. They’ll make fun of him a bit and then—”

  “They will never take him seriously again,” Nora pointed out.

  Elias snorted. “If he inherits the plantation, he can dismiss them all and then let the niggers do whatever they want. But as long as it belongs to me, he will do what I want.”

  The next morning, Doug opened himself up to their mockery, when he personally bent down and planted a seedling. In the process, he used simple words to explain how deep it should go, and how to heap the soil around it, and then pack it down. The new slaves watched with interest and now understood, probably for the first time, what it was all about. But the other overseers couldn’t get enough of laughing at the young planter, and even some of the experienced workers smirked.

  Eventually, the old, field slave Toby came to his master’s aid. “That not right, Backra. Will not grow, cut stems too short. One bud not enough, must be two, better three, better four. And one not so close to others.”

  Doug got up, completely red in the face, and Toby backed away in fear, when he looked at him.

  Doug forced a smile. “Thank you, Toby!” he said. “But couldn’t you have said something sooner? Now we’ll have to somehow teach them that even your backra makes mistakes.” Toby chewed on his lips, as Doug took another deep breath. “It’s best if you do that now, Toby. You needn’t plant any seedlings today. Only make sure that the others do it properly. And keep showing them how to do it, even ten times, if necessary.”

  Doug tried to maintain his dignity, while Toby instructed the new people with enthusiasm. At the end of the day, his team had their work under control. The new slaves worked almost as quickly as the others and, to top it off, they could also count to four in English.

  However, Elias Fortnam was seething when he heard and took his new post away again. Nora, who had to endure his outburst in silence once again, bumped into her stepson the next afternoon in the garden.

  She wanted to hurry off after a short greeting, but he followed her. The young man looked despondent, almost desperate.

  “Nora, can you tell me what I’ve done to you? Is my father jealous, did he forbid you from talking to me? I thought I could maybe at least offer you a bit of company, since I already have nothing else to do, but—”

  “Did he really throw you out?” Nora asked. “I thought he would be pleased. The slaves say your team was the best yesterday.”

  Doug shrugged. “It is not so much about the results as it is the discipline — my father is annoyed that I didn’t resort to whipping, but I think it’s wrong. The men don’t work better out of fear of the whip, quite the contrary. They avoid whatever work they can and if they see even the slightest opportunity, they run away.”

  Nora nodded reluctantly. But in his last few words, Doug mentioned something that had been keeping her up the past few nights.

  “Do you know anything about Hollister’s people?” she asked. “Were they caught?” A couple of days earlier, two blacks had fled from the neighboring plantation. A man and a woman. Nora knew them. She had helped the wife after her last “miscarriage,” and she knew that the two lived together. Now they had dared to flee — possibly because the woman was pregnant again. Nora did not want to think about the consequences they could incur.

  “Not yet,” Doug said. “But it’s only a matter of time. They’ve sent for the Keensleys’ hounds and they will surely pick up their scent. My father thought I should have found a way to ‘make myself useful.’ They are still looking for men for the hunt.”

  “But you don’t want to?” Nora asked.

  Doug shook his head. “Certainly not. I’m not too good for any work. But that—”

  “I wish we didn’t have any slaves!” Nora burst out. She had tears in her eyes. “Why can’t we just have white workers come and pay them — like in Europe. You said you were in the vineyards, didn’t you?”

  Doug nodded and walked her to her favorite spot in the pavilion. “Now please, you must calm down, Nora.”

  “Either way — we shouldn’t keep slaves. It’s not Christian!”

  Doug sighed. “No one would come,” he then said. “From Europe, I mean. Workers. They tried it in the beginning. Perhaps you’ve heard of ‘wage slaves’ — they managed to lure in a few Scots and Irish, who were so desperate that they would have done anything for a piece of land.”

  Nora nodded and looked for her handkerchief. Her eyes were now tearing up for other reasons. She thought about Simon and his growing hope when McArrow, the newly titled Lord of Fennyloch, had told him all about it.

  “But that system was unsuccessful,” Doug continued. “And that is not just because the planters don’t want to give up any land. What’s equally as relevant, if not more so, is that hardly a single one of the wage slaves survived his five years in the fields. Let alone seven. The whites really can’t work in this climate. They die like flies.”

  “But the blacks hardly live very long!” Nora said, sternly.

  Doug sighed. “That’s right. But that could be changed. For example, if they weren’t forced to work until they dropped every day. But on the whole, they are better suited at the start. They are strong and have been accustomed to this climate since childhood. Their skin doesn’t burn as quickly under the sun—”

  “Then why can’t we pay them?” Nora exclaimed. “Maybe then they would come voluntarily from Africa.”

  Doug laughed. “I don’t think so. I also don’t think that they are hired for wages over in Africa. The concept of slavery is by no means foreign to the blacks. On the contrary, the peoples of Africa all live off of the slave trade. Which is why the whites don’t even have to transport their own workforce — they take care of it themselves. There are quite a few of them toiling away here, who previously hunted people themselves, and then sold them, or made them slave away on their own fields.

  “In that respect, they could come to terms with their imprisonment — if only we didn’t rob them of every joy in life! But, as my father and the others run things: no marriages, no men and women openly living together, and for Christ’s sake, no families! No free time, no celebrations, no religion … if they hold their Obeah ceremonies, it’s at night while the backra is asleep. It’s obvious that they would only think of escape all day! It could be done completely differently. If they were to have it good on the plantations, then then maybe they would remain voluntarily.”

  Nora had her doubts about that. She herself had never come to terms with slavery. But at least Doug’s concept was better than that of his father. Then, her curiosity got the best of her again.

  “What are Obeah ceremonies?” she asked.

  Doug shrugged. “Something like … voodoo.”

  Nora furrowed her brow. She had indeed heard and read such a word before, but didn’t know how to assign meaning to it.

  “The people gather and summon the spirits,” Doug said.

  “Something like a black mass?” Nora inquired, horrified.

  Doug laughed. “In the broadest sense. But I think they don’t leave out the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. In Africa, they probably pray to many gods and spirits — for them it doesn’t come down to an issue of more or less. In any case, it is a wild spectacle.”

  “Were you ever at one?” Nora asked, eagerly. She was horrified by blasphemy, but was also attracted to the thought of summoning spirits.

  Doug nodded, but his expression dropped. “As a child … secretly,” he said. Then he stood up.

  “Anyway, Nora, I actually wanted to ask you if you’d like to ride with me. Maybe it’s a bit late today, but tomorrow, after you’ve taken care of the slaves? We both have a lot of time,” he smiled, bitterly. “Of course, only if you … well, if you’d really want to. If you have nothing inherently against me, for whatever reason …” He suddenly looked very young and vulnerable.

  Nora shook her head. “I’ll gladly come along,” she said decidedly, and suppressed Máanu’s voice in her head.

  She could not base her decisions on what
her servant thought about them.

  CHAPTER 5

  In the coming weeks, Nora and Doug spent a lot of time together. And even if Máanu always made a face when her mistress asked her to pin up her hair for a ride, or dress her for a trip to Kingston — Nora enjoyed his company. Doug was a good storyteller, something he had in common with his father. After all, Elias had won her over in the beginning with his stories of Jamaica. He openly told her of heroic deeds, and magnificent failures during his studies, and in his travels. He entertained her with vivid portrayals of celebrations and spectacles, the existence of which the good merchant’s daughter was aware, but she could never imagine.

  “Yes, yes, it is magnificent, the carnival in Venice. But also a bit … decadent, one might say. One costume party after another, and safely hidden behind masks … well, it’s quite extravagant. Everything is permitted, and people act as if no one knows who is flirting with them, and so an attached husband can hardly be to blame. And sometimes you really don’t know — on the last night, I found myself in the arms of a petite girl, but when she lifted her mask … spare me having to tell you the details …”

  Nora laughed. She didn’t know if all of Doug’s adventures actually happened or if he had just made them up, but she didn’t care. In any case, she hadn’t felt so young and boisterous as she did chatting and riding with her stepson in a long time, especially since Doug Fortnam proved to be a dashing horseman. He galloped along the beach in a race with Nora and laughed when the Arab mare, Aurora, beat his Spanish stallion by a landslide.

  “And he tried so hard!” he said, regretfully, clapping his hand against Amigo’s neck when he finally caught up to the triumphant victor. “But nothing can be done about that, my friend; some women are just too racy for us.”

  With that he boyishly winked at Nora and she had to strain to keep from smiling back. It had long been clear to her that Doug flirted with her, something he didn’t really hold back on in public. Nora eventually reproached him for it at one banquet, but Doug acted as if he had no idea what she meant.