Island of a Thousand Springs

by Sarah Lark

  When Nora sought refuge from a rainstorm in the hut again, the feeling that she wasn’t alone was overpowering. So strong, that she lifted her head and tried to make contact.

  “Are you there? Do … do you mind?”

  Nora felt for Simon’s keepsake, which she no longer wore around her neck, but still always had with her. She frequently wondered if she was being unfaithful to Simon by loving and living with Doug.

  Of course, there was no response and Nora felt immensely foolish when she finally stepped back into the sunshine and put her feet on the rain-soaked sand. Other than her own, there were no more footprints. But spirits also didn’t leave any footprints behind.

  “I do mind!”

  Akwasi almost answered when he heard Nora’s uncertain question. He angrily dug his fingernail into the trunk of the palm tree where he was watching from between the fronds as he had so many times before. Now, with the hut on the beach, it was easier to watch Nora — and often also Doug — without being seen. The lookout above the hut also made it easy to eavesdrop on them if they were inside. Often enough, Akwasi had to restrain himself to keep from jumping down, killing his rival, and kidnapping the woman again. But he had resolutely controlled himself. He wouldn’t get far with Nora alone — and for the kidnapping and murder, he would be hunted down. He wouldn’t even be safe in the mountains. Since Doug Fortnam was now their lawyer, the Fortnams were under the protection of the Windward Maroons. And their troops would find him — Akwasi didn’t delude himself about that.

  No, if he at some point wanted to have even the slightest chance of recapturing Nora, then it would only be with the plan that he had been working on since he had been banished. He had to prevent the peace treaty between the whites and Maroons — and ensure that Nanny and Quao, or even better also Cudjoe and Accompong, were deprived of their power. Then he could reunite the Maroons or at least some of them — and get Nora and his children after he had given Doug what he deserved. But maybe the issue of Doug Fortnam could even be solved in a single shot — if he found a good vantage point and could load the gun several times, everything was possible.

  At the moment, however, he needed patience. Akwasi gritted his teeth. And left Nora to her conversation with the spirits.

  CHAPTER 11

  A date was set for the signing ceremony in fall of 1739, and the governor offered Cudjoe, Accompong, Nanny, and Quao a safe convoy through Spanish Town. Of course, that was fraught with difficulties, since not every white in Kingston supported the peace treaty.

  “We should have smoked them out!” clamored Christopher Keensley, who had arrived for the celebration like all of the other planters.

  The refined society occupied the square in front of the governor’s house. Trelawny planned on receiving the Maroon leaders there in the center of the city and then saying a few words to the citizens after the ceremony. The square and the road that had been kept free for the Maroon leaders were already lined with people. Everyone, from planters to slaves, wanted to catch a glimpse of the legendary Granny Nanny. Among the slaves, however, there were only a few who could enjoy this privilege. No one had even thought of giving the field slaves the day off, so there were only a few house servants and maids behind their masters in the square. There were also a few free blacks, but they were naturally banished to the last rows.

  “I concur!” Hollister replied to his friend, groaning as he looked for a better seat.

  He had survived his injuries but still could only walk and sit with difficulty, his legs spread apart. Riding was out of the question and even the rumbling of the coach pained him. Recently when he traveled from Kingston to his plantation and back, he had started making use of a sedan chair, carried by four of his slaves.

  “Like a Roman emperor,” Nora commented to Doug, when she saw him for the first time.

  “I know it’s not funny, the poor man, but the comparison to Nero suggests itself.”

  For the festivities in Spanish Town, Hollister had been given a seat right behind the barricade, where he was enthroned and awaiting the spectacle. Like most of the other planters, he passed the time with his ideas about what the governor should have done differently in dealing with the Maroons. The suggestions got more and more drastic the less there was in the flasks of rum being passed around.

  Hollister’s wife stood beside him. She had practically never left his side since the injuries, for which she was paid great respect in the colonies. The lady occasionally cast unfriendly glances in the direction of Nora Fortnam, who was not participating in the conversation. The young woman stood off to the side, elegantly dressed, and coiffed in the latest fashion. She wore a summer dress that was white with printed flowers, and that emphasized her slim figure — she could do well without the corset, which had just gone out of style. Nora had powdered her hair, but not her face — it was hopeless to try to white out her tanned skin with talcum powder, as it only resulted in a sickly gray. In order to really cover the tan, she would have had to apply a thick layer of white lead paint — and she left that to the beaus in the wake of the governor, who had lined up in front of the palace entrance in their finest array, brocade jackets, knee breeches, and pure white stockings. The governor and the Maroon leaders were about to walk in through between them.

  Nora held her children by the hand — Dede in her beautiful, white, lace dress that brought out the chocolate-cream tone of her skin, Jefe in little knee breeches and a quilted waistcoat. He whined the entire time because he was sweating in it, and he was, of course, not the only one. All of the men were dressed too warmly, even Ian McCloud, who was standing by Nora with his wife Priscilla and wearing Sunday clothes. He suffered the sweltering heat on that day amid the rainy season without complaint and, as patient as he was, he didn’t tire of reminding Jefe that a gentleman had to endure it. Jefe hardly listened. He didn’t want to be a gentleman. Nora had to strain to keep her son from opening the buttons on his jacket and throwing off his constricting clothing.

  Eventually, his grandmother solved the problem. Adwea stood beside her mistress wearing a new, red dress, a lace blouse, and a carefully wrapped, red shawl on her head. She had her letter of manumission in her basket and seemed almost affronted that no one had asked to see it. In any case, she was the only free black standing all the way in front of the palace. She would not let her grandson’s whining spoil that for her. Adwea leaned down to Jefe and gave him two slaps.

  “Here. Now you hot. And don’t you dare cry. You want to be great warrior? Great warrior don’t cry!”

  Jefe looked at her dumbfounded, but didn’t say another word.

  Doug was not with his family at that hour. He led Granny Nanny and her brothers through the city, as the queen had expressly asked him to. Her brothers walked confidently though the rows of whites, but Nanny was probably a bit nervous of the concentrated force of the white planters. Doug couldn’t blame her. Many of the men among the onlookers were armed, at least carrying swords and often muskets or pistols. Doug wondered if the convoy that the governor had provided his visitors was prepared for a potential attack. The Maroon warriors following Nanny and her brothers were surely only partly prepared. The Africans among them were limited to traditional weapons, which were more for show than real protection. Only some of the real Maroons, having been accustomed to watchfulness for generations, looked suspiciously into the crowd and held the weapons ready to fire.

  In any case, Nanny now walked on the arm of her sophisticated young lawyer through the rows of whites who had once abducted and enslaved her. Doug did not feel able to defend her in case of emergency, but he felt her satisfaction. He could not think about the talk among his neighbors and the consequences that this appearance would have on his cooperation with the other planters, but he was happy to escort Nanny. Doug had deep respect for this small woman who was so full of pride and strength.

  Akwasi looked over at Nanny in complete contempt. He had shown up at the square hours earlier and mixed in with the slaves. However, he hadn�
��t found an ideal vantage point for shooting, and it wouldn’t be easy to shoot over the people’s heads as it was. Reloading would be all the more difficult and so he had to count on only getting a single shot. With that, he would have liked to kill Nanny in addition to the governor. Or Cudjoe … or even Fortnam? If it only hit whites, suspicion would inevitably fall on the Maroons and it was unlikely that Nanny and the others would simply be allowed to go. If Akwasi started off right, the whites would do the legwork for him. And with a bit of luck, it would turn into a sort of battle on the square. He needed a secure location though, preferably high up.

  While Akwasi was still thinking, the streets filled with people, and they only reluctantly made room for the planters’ carriages, which had driven them directly in front of their seats. One of those vehicles might serve Akwasi’s purpose.

  Akwasi hoped that the coachmen would park them at the edge of the square, but was disappointed. Soldiers who served as ushers instructed the drivers to clear out of the immediate area. But then an unusual vehicle appeared — stunned, Akwasi watched the sedan chair being carried by four burly slaves. Hollister laboriously got out — and immediately began to berate the ushers who wanted to direct his slaves to carry the sedan away.

  Akwasi didn’t understand what he said, but he could imagine. The man was obviously maimed — Akwasi grinned at the memory of what had happened to him — and wanted his means of transport nearby in case the event became too much for him. After a brief debate, the slaves were permitted to leave the sedan at the junction of a narrow side street nearby. The four immediately lounged in the shade. They apparently had no interest in the ceremony, but no one would be surprised if one of them went up to the roof of the sedan and watched everything from there. Akwasi examined the wooden frame. It couldn’t carry much more than a man of his stature, but it also wouldn’t collapse under him alone. Akwasi sauntered over to the slaves.

  Máanu was exhausted. She had been hiding in the area around Cascarilla Gardens for weeks just like Akwasi. Adwea supplied her daughter with food and village gossip, but she knew nothing of Akwasi. Máanu also said nothing about him, even though she would have liked to puzzle over what drove Akwasi to the whites. Máanu was prepared to follow her beloved husband into exile, but Akwasi had rudely rejected her twice in the first few days. She was supposed to go back to Nanny Town and wait. Anxious and unsure, Máanu remained in the mountains to follow him, even after he had angrily forbidden her. But what good would it do to wait in Nanny Town? The queen had banned Akwasi — did he really hope that she would one day lift that judgement?

  Máanu couldn’t believe it — and she wouldn’t sit idly by. She had waited long enough for Akwasi — ultimately she was only ever close to him when she forced herself upon him. Máanu despised herself for it, but when she saw Akwasi, she forgot all of her pride. She saw the strong, beautiful man in him that she wanted to hold close — but she also saw the deeply hurt little boy who needed nothing as much as to be comforted. Since the time that Doug was sent to England, Akwasi had been alone — he no longer accepted any friendliness, embrace, or love, no matter how much Adwea had cared for him. Máanu, who was still as small and timid as kitten back then, had been the only one he sometimes tolerated. Almost torn apart by her grief, the girl sneaked into the hut that had been assigned to the boys at night. The adult fieldworkers that shared with him had slept, completely exhausted, but Akwasi cried and whimpered all night long. Máanu then snuggled up beside him, and shared his pain, and sometimes he allowed her to take him in her arms. However, all of this remained a secret. She was gone by the morning and the boy acted as if he had never seen her.

  Máanu was sure that it would have changed later. Shortly before the backra first ordered her to bring him a nightcap, Akwasi had even put his arms around her and pulled her close. An innocent embrace, as she was still a child, but it would have been a beginning if Elias Fortnam hadn’t seized the girl and taken her innocence. Máanu didn’t know if Akwasi had guessed or even knew anything about it, but until the nightmare ended for her years later, she didn’t visit him again. After that, she had begun to see Akwasi as a man. As a strong man, who could protect her. Máanu’s daydreams always included them escaping together. But to him, she had never become a woman; he had never looked at her the way he did Nora Fortnam.

  However, Máanu did not give up so easily. She was now also ready to forget the past. Akwasi had irrevocably lost Nora. But she would be there. And he would get over it. Like he would get over Doug.

  So, Máanu trailed him. She followed Akwasi to Cascarilla Gardens and went through hell while he lay in wait for Nora at the beach, and watched Doug as he rode to Nanny Town. More than once she wondered what she would do if Akwasi made a move to shoot him. He had a gun. Máanu vaguely remembered seeing him with Doug’s pistol in Nanny Town. Akwasi could not be allowed to commit murder! If only he would see reason and go and live with Máanu in the mountains — or somewhere on another part of the island. Máanu was immensely relieved to see that Doug remained unscathed during his rides and that Akwasi made no attempts to get closer to Nora beyond observing her at the beach. Maybe it would even eventually end on its own. But what did her husband want now during the treaty signing in Spanish Town?

  Máanu kept Akwasi in sight even if she was scared to death of being there in public. She had undone her tight braids and cut her hair to avoid being recognized. But of course, someone could remember her face, as Máanu had been to Kingston and Spanish Town on countless occasions as Nora’s maid. She could only put her faith in the fact that the whites hardly every looked at a slaves’ faces.

  Meanwhile, the people crowded in the streets, and it was not easy for Máanu to follow Akwasi. He chatted with a couple of burly black men at the edge of the square. The four were watching a strange vehicle, a sort of covered stretcher. While Máanu was still staring at it and wondering why Akwasi was interested in it, a cart almost drove over her feet.

  “Hey, girl, look out!” a cheerful, moon-faced black man with a yellow straw hat looked at her half reproachfully and half joyfully. “What you look at there? Trying to find better spot, yes? Back here see nothing, is true.” On the man’s cart there were slices of melon and mango for sale on damp leaves. There was a wooden roof above it to protect the goods when necessary against heavy rains and the glaring sun. The seller looked at it appraisingly and then came to a conclusion with a grin. “Come on up, girl, backra must have nothing against!” In one quick movement he grabbed Máanu’s narrow waist and lifted her onto the roof of his cart. “Makes cart also prettier!” he grinned, and then started moving again. “Melon, mango … sweet, sweet little thing on roof!”

  Máanu was frightened and would have liked to cover her face as the seller shouted out his wares in such a way. Now she was sitting on display and everyone in the square could see her. But she soon realized that no one was really looking. No one there was interested in a black girl on a fruit cart. People wanted to see Granny Nanny and the governor. And the Maroons were already coming!

  Máanu heard the murmur of the crowd, which included some cheering, and some abusive cries. She saw Nanny on Doug Fortnam’s arm and the governor walking through the ranks of his clerks and servants. And then she saw Akwasi climbing the roof of the sedan.

  Máanu suspected that he was planning something. But then Doug and Nanny had already walked past her; the governor kissed the Maroon queen’s hand and led them all into his house. “See more after!” promised the melon seller, who was then doing good business. “After that governor hold speech. Now first signing. Didn’t know that Granny Nanny can write.” The man’s words sounded awestruck. Máanu had to smile. She had guided Granny Nanny’s hand countless times as the old Ashanti practiced writing her name on a document. The queen would certainly write the words “Nanny of the Windward Maroons” without making a mistake.

  Akwasi made himself comfortable on the roof of the sedan. He had heard that the governor and his visitors wanted to address the crowd a
fter signing the agreement. He would wait. Although he didn’t like it, he would have preferred the attack be before the peace agreement officially took place. But with the greeting, everything went by too fast. He would only have been able to shoot once.

  Akwasi had the powder and bullets ready. He would be able to reload at lightning speed, certainly hitting two of his victims, if not three or more. But no, not more than three. Even if it surely took time before they found out where the shots came from, he didn’t want to get caught. Akwasi only hoped that the four slaves in the shadow of the sedan quickly emptied the small cask of rum that he had given them as thanks for the lookout. If they were tipsy from the alcohol, they wouldn’t notice what was going on. And at most, one shot would be heard. As soon as the governor fell, the screams and noise on the square would quickly get out of control.

  The reading of the treaty before the Maroons and the governor took some time and after that Cudjoe, Accompong, Quao, and Nanny needed few moments to write their carefully practiced signatures. Doug kept an eye on it to ensure that everything was correct, but the Maroons wrote their names carefully, legibly, and in the right places. The governor had the champagne brought out, which Nanny only sipped with great uncertainty until she seemed to like it. She laughed and chatted charmingly with Trelawny, while her brothers didn’t seem to know what to make of the situation. They would have preferred rum to the sparkling, watery stuff. Eventually, they were conversing with Colonel Guthrie, with whom they clearly had more in common than the governor and gentleman Trelawny.