Master of My Fate

by Sienna Brown

  Eliza? She eighteen, no longer a girl. Turn into a proper young woman. As she grow, she take on more and more of Stella features. Sometimes I see her cooking over the fire and I have to look twice, because is Stella I see and I have to stop meself from crying out. But Eliza is not like Stella. She still have a softness, a kindness bout her, even after everything that happen. She working in the kitchens, she smart, could do better, turn head house slave like Stella but, she tell me, she happy working where she is. She can always get enough food to feed Betsy, her baby girl, and is too much trouble all that head house slave business. The father is the bookkeeper from Chesterfield plantation, the one next to Ginger Hill, only take a few hours walk to get there. Betsy is what backra call a quadroon, three-quarter white. She going have a good life ahead of her, when she come of age, be able to catch a man ‘above her station’. Eliza always begging the bookkeeper to buy her, keep her close, but I tell her is just a dream. The bookkeeper favour plenty slave women, not just her, so that not going happen anytime soon.

  Sammy is a man now, have twenty-three years under him feet, make me twenty-six years feel old. With no Stella and no Massa between us, we no longer enemy, but the divide still the same. It bring on sadness knowing we never going be close. I come to accept him marked by fate too, and the path him travelling on going move him further and further away.

  Getting sold to work at Ginger Hill plantation turned out good for him. Busha Annand have many visitors from the Mother Country. Many more than Massa used to, so Sammy get to learn all the proper ways of serving. Is the making of him, become a prized house slave, and Busha Annand finally persuaded to sell him off to the highest bidder. A merchant by the name of Thomas Wallace. Massa Thomas buy Sammy for sixty-eight pounds sterling, take him to work for him in Black River. A big port town in the south, bout a half-day ride from Ginger Hill. That river, it come from way up in the mountains in Cockpit Country where Robert McKellar come from, winding its way down to the sea. Massa Wallace buy Sammy to look after him guests proper, specially the ones that visit often from cross the seas. Eliza and me, we sorry to see him go, see how our little family broken apart again, but we know Stella would be proud to see him prosper.

  Seem like in the end, getting sold turn out good for me too.

  Busha Davis tell Busha Annand I is a good stonemason, can job me out, make money from me. And after a while Busha Annand come to know he can also trust me. I get made head jobber, the one that turn the slaves out. Make sure they do the jobs we get sent out to do, make sure they better than good. I work them fair, but hard. This jobbing business make my life content. It give me the thing I been craving. Respect and plenty freedom.

  One evening, I set out back to Ginger Hill after I spend two days repairing a stone wall that turn to rubble. Get mash down every time the cows try to cross. Is late, me tired, me belly rumbling. I decide to take a shortcut, head off cross the fields. Halfway to the other side, I notice a light wavering in the distance, moving in the other direction. Most times, I just go bout me business, but for some reason I decide to find out what they up to, behind that wavering light.

  Is a full moon. Easy for me to see the way, until the clouds start to gather. Make rings round the moon, cover her up, and I feel the coolness of the dark surround me. Most times I welcome it, mean I can fold into the shadow places like I used to, when I was a pickney. But then the light in the distance wink out, leave me idle, alone in the middle of the field. I feel a great fear rise up. What if the light belong to slave hunters or backra out on patrol and they circle me, point a gun at me heart? How to explain what me up to? Is then I remember what Calla told me bout the shadow. How it keep the mind in chains. Pull you down, because the chains bloated with fear.

  Suddenly I see the light way off at the other end of the field, almost like it calling out to me. Like it is fighting against the shadow. So I buck up me courage, set off quick, hurrying to catch up to that flickering light.

  Finally I reach a grove of trees. Wait, catch me breath, look for the light, but it is no longer shining. Then I hear singing, fading in and out on the breeze. I follow the sound, move silent, slip from tree to tree. As I get closer, I also hear the sound of water, a river flowing past. Overhead, the clouds suddenly part and the full moon beam down, turning the grove silver like in a dream. And I start to make out shapes in the silver moonlight. Strange shapes, shimmering in white. Could be a gathering of them duppies Calla always used to go on bout. I move closer, stay hidden, just in case. Is a group of men and women softly singing a hymn of praise for the Lord. They standing in a circle, dressed all in white, the women with turbans wrapped tight round them head. Leading the singing is a backra preacher dressed in red robes, him face covered in sweat.

  When the hymn done, him call out.

  ‘Step up now! Step up, all those sinners who want to be saved.’ Nobody make a move so him lift up him arms again and say, ‘Don’t be afraid, my children. After tonight, you’ll be under the protection of the love of Jesus Christ, your saviour. Come, come my children, come and be cleansed of all your sins. Be saved.’

  Preachers, some white, some black, used to come visit Rock Pleasant when Massa gave permission, held the service under the shade of a large guango tree. But this baptism business is different, done in secret. Is the first time I see it like this.

  I remember after one of them visits, Stella told me she got baptised. She made Eliza do it too, but not me, and not Sammy. We said no. Is one of the few times we agreed. And after what backra did to Stella, hard to believe Jesus going save anybody, much less a slave.

  After the preacher beg a few more times, one of the worshippers go stand in front of him. I travel to plenty plantations, but I never seen her before. She look so small and slight, I can hear Melon say, ‘She need fattening up.’ But all I see is beauty, her dark skin shining in the glistening moonlight. After she step forward, a few of the other worshippers buck up courage, follow the preacher down to the river. Watch as him wade out until the water come up to him waist. Then him lift up him arms, call out to the young woman to come and be saved. She hold back a little, and one of the older women, all eager now, grab up her skirt them, wade into the water ahead of her. The preacher take a hold of her, bend her back under the water. She a big woman and she almost pull both of them down before him manage to lift her up, saying, ‘From this day forth, you are now a child of the Lord. You are no longer a sinner, you have been saved.’

  Two more enter the river, a man and a woman and they get baptised, until finally the young woman turn come round again. She stand at the edge of the water, but she can’t seem to go in, and I notice that she trembling a little.

  The preacher call out, ‘Come, child. Do not be afraid, I and the Lord will protect you.’

  She gather up herself, start to wade out towards the preacher. I move closer, try to get a better view, by which time the young woman reach where the preacher standing. Him bend her back under the water, then lift her up, and when the water streaming off her face, her eyes shine with a joy brighter than the moon. She start to turn back to the shore but her foot must be slip on a rock and she lose her footing. She try to right herself, but the current too strong. She slip again, start to get dragged downstream.

  What a ruckus! The women start screaming. The preacher shout for somebody to help, him can’t move quick with all the robe them. I can see nobody going reach her in time, so I run from me hiding place, rush into the water. Reach the young woman just as she start to go down again, drag her back to the shore with much clapping and celebration from the little group of worshippers.

  I think me done a good deed, only trouble is the preacher not happy. He start to question me, ask to see me permission slip. Lucky for me, I leave it behind in me crocus bag.

  The night sky start to gain more light so I turn to go, but before I can leave the young woman come up to thank me for saving her life. I look into her eyes, see how they looking straight at me. It stir something deep inside. Is a simple look,
but it make me heart flutter, beat a little faster. And I decide no matter what, I must meet that young woman again.

  Seem like for once fate come down on me side because I get me wish sooner than I expect. A few weeks later, Busha Annand job me out to a Mister Braithwaite, him grow and sell pimento, getting old, plan to soon return to the Mother Country. The slaves him don’t sell off, he keep busy with the pimento crop, ask for me special to fix up whatever little thing need doing round the place.

  One morning, me digging in the vegetable garden, the morning turn hot, so I take off me shirt, feel the sweat build up on me skin. I am almost done when I feel eyes pon me. Hiding behind the mesh of the kitchen door is the shining face I saw that night under the moon by the river. When she discover I see her, she don’t turn away, act all shy, she just keep looking. Not the way Mistress Josephine used to look, like she going devour me, but like the way Sam Sharpe looked at me, like she seeing the insides of me. And I can tell she like what she see.

  I smile. She smile. Until we come to be like two smiling fools. Then she disappear. I think she gone back to her work, but she come out bringing a calabash of water. I tell you straight, is the best water I ever taste. Cool, fresh, sweet, just like her.

  I want to ask her name, but before I can, she use her apron to wipe the sweat from me face.

  ‘They call me Aurelia,’ and her voice is soft, low.

  ‘They call me William,’ and I lean on the handle of the hoe, flexing me muscles a little bit.

  ‘I know. I ask round. After I see you in the woods, hiding like a little boy, then turn saviour, pull me out the river,’ her laughter lighting up her dark, sunlit face. If I thought me heart fluttering before, it start to thump so loud, me surprised she don’t hear it.

  Aurelia work in the kitchen and her massa always retire early. So we meet up when her working day done. We sit, have a feed as the sky fill up with stars, before she lead me by the hand to her hut. Sometimes she act all wild, straddle me, ride me like she racing to pass over to the Ancestors. Other times, we silent, fondle, caress, kiss each other all over. She melt me heart with her sweet whisperings until the blood heat up, flow out its fires right through her body, then crest into mine. Afterwards, sometimes, we talk bout every little thing that happen in the day, but most times we just lay still, silent. Hold each other close till is time for me to leave, return before daylight. Sometimes I have to run all the way, but is well worth it. Spending time with Aurelia, I come to understand how dry and brittle me life used to be. She turn out to be the one that melt the barriers round me heart, until they no longer needed.

  Now every chance I get, I use the jobbing work to try see Aurelia. And every time I see her, I feel how love make me heart dip and swoon. How it give me the strength to face each day. Face the life I been chatteled to.

  At first, I tell nobody bout her. I want to keep it a secret. Is for me and me alone. But love start to change me, show itself in every little thing I say and do. The first person to notice is Eliza.

  ‘What happen to you William?’ she ask me one morning.

  ‘What you mean?’

  ‘You no longer hold that look. The one that make everybody take a step back, keep dem distance,’ she say, and make me laugh. ‘Look pon that. The old William never laugh so freely.’ Then it dawn on her. ‘Oh, me understand now. You in love.’

  ‘What you know bout love?’ I ask her, try stop meself from smiling.

  ‘Love start as a small thing,’ she say. ‘Like when you also water the plant dem in the provision ground next to you own. Then love get to be a big thing, because you care bout somebody, more than you care bout youself. Is that what happen to you, William? Me hope so. You a grown man now. Must stop feeling hard done by, always sorry for youself.’

  What Eliza say is one big surprise. Not only what she say, but how much wiser, smarter she is than me. After that day, is like me eyes open. I start to see the world clearer. I start to stand up for meself, for Eliza, and many of the slaves on the plantation come to me for help. Is like I take on the strength of Stella, the wisdom of Calla, and I come to understand what me purpose is. I look back at me younger self, see how far I come. I reach a time in me life where I belong, not to a place, but to be in kindred spirits with me people. No more hiding behind the wait-a-bit fence, sitting, shrouded in aloneness.

  A few seasons pass and big excitement catch us. Word come down that we get a letter from James. Sammy heard bout him from one of the visitors him serve. Wrote him a letter, sent it cross the seas and James wrote back. It take a while before Sammy finally get permission to come visit Ginger Hill, bring James letter with him.

  After the working day over, we sit together outside the hut Eliza and me share. Drink bush tea, sit and talk bout how fate shape each of us. Talk bout Stella, hope she hear James letter that Sammy reading out, the words crossing over, drifting towards the Ancestors.

  Dear William, Sammy and pretty Eliza,

  Perhaps I should have written long before this, but I confess I have been in two minds about doing so. My life is so different now, and in my telling of it, I did not want to create hurt for you, my family of old. It will be as hard for you to imagine it as it becomes increasingly hard for me to imagine what my life would be like if I were still there. Still a slave.

  The ‘cousin them’ have treated me well. They sent me to school and the world of letters and numbers is no longer a mystery to me. I have taken up the skilled art of draftsmanship and am apprenticed to a master architect, designing homes for the very wealthy. I also paint landscapes, some of which have started to sell. Can you imagine me, little James, a gentleman, with servants to do my bidding?

  The news of Stella and what took place hit me very hard. The cousins had hoped to spare me, but the trial was reported in all the newspapers and I read them a thousand times over. With all my heart, I wished it not to be true. I still can’t believe that Stella had a hand in killing Father. I was not there, so I cannot judge. For a time, the cousins and I became estranged because of it, but that is now in the past.

  It has been difficult for all concerned as our wealth was based on sugar. After the sale of the plantation most of the money was used to pay off Father’s debts, so we had to look for other means of support. Uncle Jack now owns and runs a small factory, the making of thread. I do not like this place and find the treatment of the workers akin to slavery.

  You will be happy to hear, London is in turmoil with the abolitionists doing their best to press for the abolition of slavery. Aunt Caroline has encouraged me to speak at many of their rallies. To speak from personal experience.

  Fate has been kinder to me than you and it is my duty, in some small way, to repay this grace. If fate continues to smile, I am to be married in the coming year. Above my station, no less. She has wealth and I have ambition. I am perhaps a novelty for jaded tastes, but still I believe there to be love. If the marriage goes through, I will be a wealthy man and in a position to buy your freedom. It will take time, but it has always been my dream.

  Yours faithfully,

  James Mowatt

  Was a shock to hear that letter. All the things we learn bout James and his life now. We proud of him, feel glad for him, but hearing him letter, it bring up too many questions. Questions that have no answers. Too much happened, the difference too great, and a part of me doubt our paths will ever run together again.

  Sammy spend another day before him have to leave, tell us all bout him life in Black River. How he have him own room at the back of his massa house, a big two-storey mansion that look out over the sea. His massa come to trust him with many things, not just serving all the guests. Now he also work down at the port, checking all the supplies coming and going. Seem like fate shining on Sammy and him life is closer to James, while Eliza, me, we get left behind in the old-time slavery world. I should rejoice for them, but it feel too cruel.

  The next season, fate smile on Eliza too. The bookkeeper finally come round. Him buy her and little Betsy from B
usha Annand, pay a good price too. Now Eliza and little Betsy go to live with him. She still work in the kitchens, still a slave, but she seem to be happy. In time, I wouldn’t be surprised if she going move up, become head house slave. Maybe even one day be given her freedom.

  A short time later, all the joy and good luck that been building up suddenly depart. Sammy send word to Eliza that the dream of freedom we been holding get crushed, dry up for good. James fall ill, die from cholera. It kill plenty people in London, but why, why it have to catch James? And when Eliza come visit to tell me, we sit and weep together like tomorrow never going come again. It take a long time to heal the blow we get from the passing of little brother James.

  Fighting Words

  In the beginning is only a whisper. A rumour that get passed from mouth to ear and back again in the church prayer meetings held cross the island. And the whispers, they all bout the change that is a-coming. And the best place to hear bout this change is in the Burchell Baptist Church up in Montego Bay. That church come to be like the hub in a wheel of a cart driven by a missionary man by the name of Thomas Burchell. Him come out from the Mother Country, build the church, start to preach. Don’t just talk bout the Lord, but talk about abolition. Is under him that Sam Sharpe get him training, helping out with the service, marking off attendance, collecting fees, giving out tickets, until he started preaching and ended up with him own congregation. Not just slave them mind you. Free coloureds and blacks come too. Even white folks, him is such a good preacher. And over the years, him come to be like a father to us slaves. Come to be called Reverend Daddy Sharpe, with all that wisdom pouring out of him.