A Distant Magic (9 page)

"Do you disapprove of my justice?" he asked mildly.

Jean halted above the ladder and forced herself to think calmly rather than of gouging hands and furious kicks.
"I...I don't know. The overseer and many of his underlings committed appalling
acts. I suppose it is justice to let their victims execute the punishment. But
my stomach isn't strong enough to watch it. It seems wrong that they weren't
tried in a court of law."

"How very British of you. No court would produce a truer verdict than the one rendered by their victims, and immediate execution saves food." There was malicious amusement in his dark eyes. He enjoyed outraging her. He continued,
"They will die quickly. That is more mercy than most of them granted."

"Why not hang or shoot them? That would be quicker yet."

He shook his head. "The galley slaves have been powerless since
their capture. Today, they have power again."

She heard the cries of the rowers as another condemned corsair was turned over to them.
"I think I can understand that, but this is so...so barbaric."

His face twisted into a sneer. "Slavery is the true barbarism. For
one man to claim he has the right to own another would be an affront to a
benevolent God, if such a being existed."

Given his past, she couldn't blame him for his heretical comments. Since he seemed inclined to talk, she asked,
"Where is Santola?"

Instead of telling her, he said, "Dine with me tonight in my
cabin. I shall answer some of your questions. But now, I must go and watch men
be torn apart."

He pivoted and returned to the galley. He obviously liked having the last word. Heaven knew she couldn't think of a response to what he just said.

She descended to the cabin deck, feeling exhausted. So she must dine with her captor. At least with only one dress, she needn't worry about what to wear.

Chapter
ELEVEN

A
DIA
P
LANTATION
L
IFE IN
J
AMAICA

The strangest thing about life as a slave was that, in some ways, it was simply life. The slaves at Harris Hall came from many lands, but together they made a new tribe, and men who would have been sworn enemies in Africa here became friends. Despite the brutally hard work, there were moments of joy and fellowship. Children labored with small hoes, but in slack times they laughed and played games, no different from the free children of the Iske.

Yet there were also horrors beyond what Adia could have imagined before her capture. Most of the fieldwork was done by women, and they were worked so hard that few ever bore children. The mill work of crushing cane and boiling sugar was done mostly by men, and burns and lethal accidents were not uncommon. Even healthy bodies wore out in pitifully few years.

Having a quick, curious mind, Adia learned all she could from the other slaves, including tales of their gods and magical traditions. She also learned that life was easier for house slaves, so she determined to strive for that.

Usually new slaves were given lighter duties for two or three years to harden them for life in the Indies. Adia was nearing the end of that period when the cook at the big house came looking for a scullery maid. Her ability to learn and cooperative nature paid off when she was selected.

Work in the kitchens was hard, but she ate well and learned to cook European food as she graduated from scullery maid to junior cook. During her kitchen years, she came to womanhood and began to attract the attention of men. The heat of young blood made her tempted by some of those who made advances, but she would not allow herself to succumb.

Grandmother made it clear that she must be cautious for she had a destiny. Adia knew that having children would bind her even more tightly into slavery, but following Grandmother's guidance left her with hot, restless nights.

Her greatest regret was that she became a woman without being initiated. She could feel the magic beating through her blood, but her power remained untrained and undeveloped. All she could manage were a few small spells and charms. Though some of the Harris Hill slaves had modest magical talents, there were no priests or priestesses to take her to the realms of spirit.

One valuable lesson she did learn was how to conceal worship behind the ways of the Christian gods. Mrs. Harris, the mistress of the plantation, believed it was her duty to teach her slaves to be good Christians. Though she attended the Anglican church like her husband, she had been raised a Catholic, so she quietly invited a Catholic priest to teach her slaves religion. While the official slave baptisms were by Anglican priests, Mrs. Harris did not object when the slaves built altars to the Blessed Virgin Mary. Like the slaves, she had beliefs she kept private.

One of the older women who was like an aunt to Adia explained,
"This altar has the image of the Christian mother goddess, but it is really an altar to Oshun, the great woman spirit of my people." She gently laid flowers around the statue of Mary.
"While we worship our gods, the masters look on us and smile for they think they
have won our hearts and souls as well as stolen our bodies. Fools."

As the years turned, Adia worked and learned. The chief lesson was that slavery was wrong, always. Ruefully she remembered her own belief that the slavery practiced by her people on captives taken in battle was not so bad as being stolen from her home and sent to a new land. Now she knew better. Slavery was evil, always—a product of the darkest demons.

Her hatred of her enslavement was a simmering flame that she buried deep. If she gave in to anger, she would explode into a violence that would get her killed. Jamaica had known slave revolts in the past, and there would be more in the future. After the day's work, when people gathered to talk and tell tales, they spoke of Tacky's Rebellion, which had taken place several years earlier. With few British troops on the island, Mr. Harris armed twenty of his most trusted slaves so they could fight the rebels. The small troop thanked their master, raised their hats to him—and promptly joined the uprising.

The revolt was put down at the cost of hundreds of lives. After, many of the runaways returned, claiming they had run to avoid being forced to join the rebels. Others hanged themselves in the forest rather than return to slavery. Adia could understand why they did that, but she would choose life and hope.

Her situation improved again when Mrs. Harris needed a new maid for her daughter, Sophie. The previous maid had thoughtlessly died of a fever just as Sophie reached marriageable age, so a replacement was required quickly. To the cook's irritation, Adia was chosen, being young, quick, and presentable. She was given the house name of Addie, which was at least close to her own name, and trained by Mrs. Harris's own maid.

Sophie was the only Harris daughter, but there were three sons. The oldest, Master Charlie, was a high-spirited fellow who often invited parties of young people to the house. Once he kissed Adia in the back hall, murmuring how pretty Addie was and how much he'd like to lie with her, but he accepted her firm
"No!" and never troubled her again.

It was not Mr. Charlie who raped her, but one of his drunken young friends. He was too strong to fight off, but later she made an image daubed with his seed and laid a curse on him. Perhaps that was why the young devil had a serious riding accident not long after. It was whispered among the slaves that, after, he was incapable of having a woman. She hoped so.

She also made herself a beaded bracelet spelled to reduce her attractiveness to men. She knew there was no point in complaining to the masters, but with the protection spell and her own precautions, at least she was not assaulted again.

She rather missed Master Charlie when he sailed for England to study at Cambridge, but there were still two young masters in the household. She was particularly fond of the youngest, Tommy, who reminded her of Chike.

Working in the house was significant in many ways, not least because Adia met many more white people. She came to realize that whites were not all that different from blacks. Having power over slaves brought out the worst in some people, and most whites accepted slavery as natural and right, but the majority were not evil. The elite among the Iske who owned slaves had behaved much the same as white slave owners.

Mr. Harris didn't really see slaves as people like himself, but he valued them much as he would a good horse. He discharged a white overseer who'd beaten a mill slave to death. The overseer was promptly hired by another plantation owner who liked the man's
"firm way of dealing with niggers." A year later the overseer was killed by two slaves who then escaped into the hills and joined a community of free Maroons. Every slave on Jamaica silently applauded the deed.

In time Adia realized she should aim her hatred at slavery itself, for it created evil by its existence. Individual slave owners and overseers she would judge on their own sins and virtues. And she listened to every white who came near her to improve her English.

Miss Sophie was a shy girl close to Adia's age. It would never occur to her to put away her own clothing, and she was particular in her requirements, but generally she was a good-natured girl who didn't make a game out of being difficult. Adia heard stories from other lady's maids when there was visiting between the big houses, and she was grateful that Miss Sophie was so pleasant.

She became even more grateful when Miss Sophie gave Adia the greatest gift Adia had ever received. It started when Miss Sophie was sitting by her bedroom window, reading a London newspaper and enjoying the cool breeze from the sea. When she finished, she folded the paper and set it aside.
"I wonder what it would be like to read the news when it's new rather than when
it's two months' old."

"Not too different, miss. Just pretend this is April, not June." Suppressing her envy, Adia glanced up from the stocking she was darning.
"It must be like magic to look at black marks on paper and learn so much from
them."

Miss Sophie looked thoughtful. "I suppose it is a kind of magic because reading the newspapers brings England alive for me even though I've never set foot there." Her expression brightened.
"Would you like to learn how to read, Addie? It would be interesting to see if
you can do it."

Adia's rush of excitement blocked her irritation at her mistress's assumption that a slave might not be capable of learning. She wanted desperately to read and write, for education was a path to power.
"I should like that more than anything, Miss Sophie, but I don't want you to get
into trouble for teaching reading to a slave."

Miss Sophie shrugged. "Then we won't tell anyone. Bring me my
writing slate and chalk, and we'll start with the alphabet."

Luckily Adia proved an apt student so that Miss Sophie didn't become bored. In fact, she was so apt that during the third lesson, when Adia was learning to read short sentences, her mistress said with a frown,
"You're learning so quickly, Addie. Faster than I did."

Gods forbid that a slave be more intelligent than a master. "I'm older," Adia said meekly.
"A small child is not so ready to learn."

Mollified, Miss Sophie returned to the lesson. In the future, Adia made sure she was less quick. And she told no one, not even her closest friends, what she was learning. Miss Sophie would be scolded for teaching a slave, but Adia might be killed if the lessons became known.

Books were rare and expensive, so Adia couldn't risk borrowing any except for the few that belonged to Miss Sophie. But the Harrises received bundles of newspapers when ships arrived from England. After the papers were read by family members, they were piled on a table in the morning room and eventually given to an elderly English friend of Mr. Harris's. This meant that there were usually newspapers in a public room, and no one bothered to keep track of them.

Adia took full advantage of the papers and in the process learned a great deal about England and London. It seemed an interesting place, though cold. Perhaps if Miss Sophie visited her British relatives someday, Adia would have a chance to see the country that enslaved more Africans than any other, yet had free blacks living in its capital city.

She had been Miss Sophie's maid for three years the night she was almost caught borrowing a newspaper. She never went to the morning room until the household was sleeping, but on this night the Harrises had attended a ball at a neighboring plantation. They returned earlier than Adia had expected, when she was in the morning room. The room opened from the front hall, so as soon as she heard the door open, she hid behind a sofa set close to the wall. Though her heart pounded with nerves, rationally she knew she was unlikely to be noticed.

Instead of climbing the stairs, Mr. and Mrs. Harris entered the morning room. The master lit several lamps, then unlocked the cabinet that held his spirits. The clinking of glassware made it clear he was pouring drinks for both of them. Adia settled down as comfortably as possible, resigned to a long wait.

"Thank you, my dear," Mrs. Harris said. There was a brief silence that ended with the clink of a glass being set down.
"What did you wish to speak to me about?"

"Tonight Joseph Watson asked for Sophie's hand in marriage."

Mrs. Harris gasped. "But he comes from the Carolina colonies!"

"You can't be surprised," her husband said. "He and
Sophie have been cooing at each other like turtledoves since he arrived in
Kingstown to visit his uncle. Do you object to his marrying her?"

Mrs. Harris might have been surprised, but Adia wasn't. Miss Sophie had been chattering about handsome Mr. Watson since the two had met.

"He seems a fine young man, and he's heir to a considerable fortune." Mrs. Harris sighed.
"I'm not surprised, but I rather hoped it was a mere flirtation. I hate the
thought of Sophie going so far from us."

"I'll miss her, too," Mr. Harris said quietly. "But I'll
be relieved to see her established away from the islands. You know we live on
the edge of an inferno, Anna. The slaves outnumber the whites ten to one. It's
only a matter of time until there is another rebellion. I'll feel better knowing
my little girl is safe in another land."

Mrs. Harris made a choked sound, and Adia sensed that her husband was putting a comforting arm around her. At length, the older woman said,
"I know you're right, and I'm sure she'll accept his proposal if we approve. But
sometimes I wonder if we would be better off moving back to England."

"To live in a cramped little house, trying to survive on the salary of some minor government post? Few opportunities for the boys, no rich suitors for Sophie?" Mr. Harris sounded angry.
"There is danger here, but danger is everywhere. In Jamaica, at least the
rewards are great."

Adia didn't know whether to laugh or sympathize. The English life Mr. Harris sneered at would be heaven to any of the slaves of Harris Hill. Their labor and suffering created the wealth that gave the Harrises
"opportunities." Yet in another sense, the Harrises were like anyone else, concerned for their families and worrying about the compromises that life required. She decided she sympathized with them. But only a little.

Miss Sophie's wedding consumed the energy of all the house slaves for weeks, Adia most of all. Naturally she would accompany the bride to the Carolina colony. Leaving her friends, the
"tribe" of Harris Hill, was like a knife in Adia's heart, but she also looked forward to seeing the American colonies. Rumor said they were different from the Indies.