by Celia Rees
There were plenty of crocodiles in the swamp that lay between the plantation and the sea. I'd seen them when I was out riding. Huge blunt-nosed beasts basking on the mud, their plated bodies glistening in the sun, jaws gaping, showing rows of great teeth set in wide and crooked grins.
'What about his woman?' I feared she might tell my brother what had happened.
'She hates him more than anyone. She came to fetch Thomas soon as she saw you come in. She's helping him right now. Ain't her I'm worried 'bout. We got to think what's best to do now 'bout this trouble.'
We were sitting at the kitchen table at the plantation house. Phillis rose to put wood on the fire. After midnight, the air sometimes had a chill in it and I could not stop from shivering. Minerva fetched my shawl, anticipating my need, as was her training; although her days as my slave were at an end. Of the two of us, her ordeal had been the greater, but she seemed to recover more quickly. In some ways, she is the stronger. I took my lead from her.
'We could make it look as though he's robbed us and run off to Port Royal,' I suggested, rallying somewhat. We could not sit and do nothing. We had to make some plan before my brother came back. 'Thomas has given me Duke's keys. I can open the safe in my brother's office, remove the money kept there, rifle the papers – '
Minerva nodded, as though she thought it a good idea, but Phillis cut me off.
'Duke and what happened to him ain't our problem. He sleeps with the crocodiles now.' She shook her head, dismissing him. 'I see bigger trouble coming that makes this small.' Phillis sometimes spoke like a kind of oracle. 'Like a trifle of wind before a hurricane.'
Phillis had a reputation among the slaves for knowing about medicines and herbs and other things besides. It was knowledge that she had brought with her. Magic from Africa that the slaves called obeah. They had no other faith, so they kept to their own belief. I knew that she had the power of augury. Minerva had told me how she could see things in clouds, in smoke, in flames and fire, in the lace of leaves against the sky. Such things are highly secret, kept hidden from white eyes. For me to pry would be dangerous, so Minerva said, so I never asked to know more.
Just before I had left Phillis to go after Duke, she had taken her attention from me to stare into the red-gold flame of the candle. Perhaps she'd seen a vision in its flickering heart.
'What did you see, Mamma?' Minerva asked now.
'I see Bartholome. The Brazilian. That black-hearted man.' She looked at me sharply. 'Take that thing off your neck!' She almost spat the words out. I put my hand to my throat. I still wore the rubies. I unclasped them and put them down on the table. 'You should cast them away. They are obeah. They carry death in them: the time, the place, the way it will happen. I have seen. If you stay here, you will marry him. And one day – he will kill you sure ... '
'But what can I do? I cannot avoid this marriage. My brother is set on it. My whole family depends on it. I can see no way to escape.'
'That is where you are wrong. Listen to me, and listen carefully.'
Phillis's plan was as drastic as it was bold and, as we worked to put it into effect that night, my spirit grew lighter, lighter than it had been for many days, months even. Minerva seemed to feel it, too. She smiled at me and it was as if we were back in those first fine days when we rode out together, before it all began to be spoiled.
I did everything Phillis said, disobeying her in only one respect. I would not get rid of the rubies. I wish now that I had cast them awray, as she had told me to, let them sink deep into the swamp along with Duke. There was something devilish about them, and it came from the man who had given them to me. Phillis was right in that, as she was about so much else.
I had seen it myself. When I had looked down and thought that I saw blood pooling in my hands, it was an omen. Of that, I am certain. Although I did not see it at the time. I did not make the connection. I considered the rubies far too valuable to cast away. They might come in useful one day.
Put your faith in stones ...
I remembered the Brazilian's words, heard them whisper in my head. Jewellery was light to carry and keep close, easy to hide from Phillis. I tucked the rubies into the body belt that I wore inside my clothes.
I put on man's array, for ease of travelling, and we left before dawn. Thomas leading, with Minerva and I following on horseback, and Phillis on a pack mule behind. My saddlebag bulged with gold from the safe. I had taxed my brother a quantity of coin, thinking it fair exchange for the inheritance I was forfeiting. Then I had found a letter with my name upon it, which made me furious, so I helped myself to everything that was left. My brother could believe that Duke and I had robbed him and run away together for all I cared; he would never guess at the truth. I was off to join the maroons.
A Parcel of Regues
16
By dawn, we had left Fountainhead far behind. We had been climbing all the time and were now high above the plain in the foothills of the mountains. The whole plantation was spread out, the vast fields shrunk to handkerchief size, the buildings like a child's toy farm. Thomas urged us on into a stand of gnarled and twisted pines, glad to have gained some cover as the light grew behind the eastern slopes.
We made our way into the mountains, climbing all the while, going backwards on ourselves as we followed the crooked path higher. In places, whole sections of hillside had fallen away, leaving a gash of red earth and loose rock which slid dangerously as soon as a hoof was set upon it. We gained the ridge top, hoping to find clear country at last. Instead we found a series of mist-filled ravines, with cloudy vapour escaping in ragged wisps, like steam from a lidded cauldron. We rode with our heads pressed to our horses' necks, into dense dripping trees swathed with moss and hanging vines and spiky-leafed dangling plants that seemed to feed only on air. We had to dismount and scramble down steep valley sides, leading the horses in a skittering slide to a swift-flowing stream, then the way was up to gain the next ridge, and the next.
There were many such to cross and by midday I was quite exhausted and glad when Thomas called for a halt. We had come to a broad river. Here, we watered the horses and drank ourselves, bathing our scratches and insect bites. Phillis found leaves and told us to rub them on ourselves to repel the biting flies that hung in clouds at the bottom of the ravines, ready to blacken our skin and suck our blood.
Phillis and Minerva went to pick fruit that grew in the forest all around, and Thomas went to scout the way ahead. I took out my letter. It was written on paper creased and then flattened, as if someone had balled it up and tossed it away, only to think better of it. It showed signs of being written at different times, in different inks, with different quills, as if the writer had been at a loss for what to say, or in two minds about whether to say anything at all.
My Dearest Nancy,
I have sat down many times to write this letter. I have gone over in my mind what I will say, but every time I pick up a quill, the words just flee away. I feel that I no longer know you, Nancy. I received the letter you wrote from the Sally-Anne and you seemed as true as ever. I thought then that the wide ocean was hut a shallow pond between us, and now I learn that you are to be married to a planter! I hardly know ivhat to say.
By some cruel turn of fate, we are bound for Kingston, but I understand from your brother, Henry, that you will be a wife long before our ships come in to port. I had my hopes of you. I have been given promotion to First Lieutenant on the third rater, Eagle, under Captain Dunstan, and I went to call on your brother on the strength of it, for my pay has increased, and above that I have the prospect of prize money, &c. I went to declare my intentions, but he told me that you were already spoken for. So my hopes are dashed. You have slipped away from me as a ship steals from harbour on the morning tide. I hold no hard feelings, Nancy. For who could fail to love you? And if this planter fellow has stolen your heart in return, as your brother says he has, then all that remains is for me to wish you happiness.
But I want you to knoiv that my love will never change. It will
always remain the same. If I cannot have you, then I will have no other. My life is the Navy and I will do my duty. When we reach Kingston, our commission is to hunt down the pirates who infest the waters of the Caribbean. It will be torture for me to be so near and never to see you, so I hope our cruise keeps us far from shore. You may look for me where the fighting is thickest. If the service demands the highest sacrifice, then I will give it. For what else is left for me to do?
I am, and will always remain, your truest friend. If you are ever in need of one, you may count on me.
Your loving and ever faithful,
William
I read through a misting blur of tears. How could my brothers have been so perfidious? William probably knew of my 'marriage' before I did. I felt as though he was lost to me for ever. I would never forgive them, for they had ruined his life along with mine.
I sat by the side of the river pondering my position. To think he might be here, on the same island as me, was an added torture. If only I had known before. I had escaped the Brazilian, but it had brought me no closer to William. Further away, if anything. I was moving outside the law. How would he ever find me now? Even if he did, would he still want me? Dressed in men's clothes, with blood on my hands? I would have to tell him everything. I could never bear to lie to him. Thinking of the cruel turns that my life had taken made me cry even harder, bitterness and anger dissolving the ink and threatening the paper. Before the letter disintegrated altogether, I folded it small and tucked it into my body belt.
We rested through the heat of the day, then waded on up the river. The valley was deep, the tops of the ridges lost in a dense overhanging mass of trees that grew right down to the water's edge. Birds called to each other, their cries echoing from side to side, loud notes of alarm, strange and sudden, that made us startle and jump. We had met no one, nor seen any evidence of habitation at any time since we had left the plantation, but now I had an uneasy feeling, as though we were being watched.
Thomas looked up every now and then, peering around as if he felt it, or as if he feared that he might have lost the way and be leading us into danger. We turned another bend in the winding river and a cliff rose up, sheer in front of us. All around, the forest was silent. Even the birds had ceased calling. I searched about, but could see no way up through the crowded vegetation. I feared that Thomas had led us into a trap.
He waded towards the cliff without looking back. Vines and hanging plants grew in every crevice on the rock-face, tumbling down it like a green waterfall. Thomas parted this living curtain and showed us the place where the river gushed out as if from a great open mouth. The cavity was wide and high enough for the horses to walk through. Not that they were very willing to enter. Thomas had to come back to help with them, stroking their noses and talking in gentle whispers. The mule was the most reluctant: he had to be driven; but eventually all of the animals were persuaded into the dark, dripping interior.
The cave opened out, the sides spreading wide, the ceiling rising high as a church. Light filtered through unseen apertures, the slender fluted shafts falling from above. The animals stood with their heads down, ears laid back to show their unhappiness, while we stood looking about us in wonder and awe, for everywhere the solid rock was sculpted into fantastic forms, swirling and writhing like frozen waterfalls. Folded sheets hung from the ceiling, as thin and delicate as tobacco leaves in a drying shed. Globules of water collected on every surface and dropped, as regular as the tick of clocks, measuring the time of our passage along the course of the underground river towards the point where the end of the tunnel showed as a lens of emerald light.
The sun filtering through the leaves of the overhanging trees coloured the water, making it seem as if we waded through liquid jade. We were at the bottom of a deep bowl cut into the hills and lined by thickly growing forest. All around us the air rang and buzzed with bird cries and animal sounds.
'I sense we are surrounded,' I whispered to Minerva. 'Yet I see no one.'
'Use your eyes!' she replied.
Each thing was cunningly disguised, designed to blend with the surroundings and so appear to be something natural. Canoes at the bank looked like drifting logs. The huts tucked between the trees were thatched with leaves and hidden by drooping canopies. The fields were tilled in little clearings, impossible to see from any distance.
From above, no one would form any idea that people lived here. That was how they managed to survive. Even the weapons brought to bear on us were used by those who hunt silently. We were entering the village of the maroons.
A spear thudded into the bank opposite; an arrow whistled past, so close I felt the draft from its flight. They were meant as warnings only. We would have been skewered if they had meant to find their mark. Thomas waded to the shore and laid his cutlass there. We did the same, laying our weapons next to his. The men stepped out now, bows drawn and spears pointed towards us. The maroons were a motley mix of Africans, long-haired Indians, dark-faced mulattos, Spaniards and paler-skinned men who looked to be British in origin. None wore any shoes and their clothes hung in tatters, but they were a fiercesome-looking crew.
Their commander stepped forward. A large man, bare-legged and bare-chested, with a mass of fiery red hair growing straight out from his head. His face was broad and sunburnt above a great tangle of beard.
'Who are ye?' he demanded. 'And what do you want here?'
'We have come to see Hero,' Thomas spoke up. 'Ask his help.'
'Oh, aye.' This seemed to amuse him. He crossed his brawny arms. 'Well, he's away. And why should he help the likes of ye?'
'I'm Thomas. Hero's son. I come to ask protection. I travel with Phillis, his good friend, and her daughter, Minerva. And ... '
'And?' The big man came nearer. 'Who are ye?'
'I am Nancy Kington. Late of Fountainhead Plantation.'
'Well, I'm Tarn McGregor, late of nowhere in particular. While Hero's away, I'm in charge here.' He scratched his beard. 'Kington of Fountainhead?' His blue eyes narrowed. 'Don't yer daddy own the place?'
I nodded, wondering what he would make of it.
'Well, we can always sell ye.' He laughed. 'Sell the owner's daughter, eh?' He looked round at the others. 'What d'you think of that, boys?'
17
The men went into a huddle to discuss our sudden arrival, but decided to do nothing until Hero returned. We were kept in open view in the clearing in the centre of the village and told that we must wait.
Whatever doubts might have been harboured about us were dispelled as soon as Hero arrived. He was an imposing man, over six foot tall and well built, with coal-black skin. His wide cheeks were scarified with tribal markings and he wore a bright red parrot feather stuck in the band that bound his thick curling hair. He had a broad smile and uptilted eyes that flashed with fire. He was dressed only in a tattered pair of canvas trousers secured with a broad leather belt, but he bore himself like a king. As soon as he saw Thomas he gave a shout, and when he saw Phillis, he let out a rich laugh of delight and welcome.
'Welcome, sister!' He took both her hands in his. 'What took you so long?'
He was captain here, and deferred to as such, but all decisions were made in common. He could not go against the council.
The men disappeared to discuss our fate and we were left alone in the clearing. All was quiet for a little while, then the children came out, too curious to be contained, only to be scolded and shooed back again by the women who came sidling from their huts for a better view of us.
Two of them recognised Phillis and greeted her in the language of their own land, their old land, speaking words I did not understand. Phillis spoke urgently, making frequent nods towards Minerva and me. The women's faces became serious, their tongues clucking with sympathy. They went to their neighbours and they all stood in a little huddle, then they hurried off to tell others. They came back carrying gourds of fresh water and calabashes full of a kind of porridge made with meat and vegetables, corn and beans. They i
nvited us to sit and eat. Phillis asked if they would join us, then she winked at me.
'Don't matter what the men think. It's already been decided.'
Phillis smiled as she looked around the village. Her eyes lost their hollow haunted look, the tension and strain disappearing from her face. The houses were simple structures, thatched with palm leaves, but each with its own little yard and garden, surrounded by fruit trees: breadfruit, banana, oranges, lemons, pineapple, mango and papaya.
'It feels like I've come home,' she said.
The men followed the women's acceptance of us and we were allowed to stay.
The whole village worked to build us a hut. The women helped us to make it homelike, while the men cleared a patch of forest for our garden. Minerva and I helped Phillis with the tilling and planting with yam, sweet potato, corn and manioc. Until our first harvest, the other villagers promised a share of their produce in return for work on their plots. Not that we were a burden. There was food in abundance. Fruit and vegetables grew in great profusion. Pigs rooted, chickens scuttled and clucked through the common spaces of the villages, goats wandered, shooed from the gardens by the children.
The life here suited Phillis. Her skin lost its grey, dusty pallor, and her body gained weight, its angular thinness disappearing as the ever-present fear and gnawing bitterness that had made up her life for so many years began to retreat. She could laugh now, and smile. She showed every symptom of being contented, and was soon spending more time in Hero's hut than in ours.
Thomas soon found a mate, a tall, quiet young woman, originally from Senegal, and went to live with her. He seemed settled and contented, like Phillis.
Minerva and I slept side by side in the hut. I lay awake, listening to her breathing. I did not want anything to happen to threaten this newly discovered happiness, but I feared that it could not last. As time went on, I felt dangers crowding nearer, and found it hard to rest for worrying and thinking. I often did not sleep until the early hours of the morning, just as the cocks began crowing, heralding the first light of dawn.