Cambridge (17 page)

The rooming-house to which Mr Wilson's negro escorted me appeared to be in a most ruinous and battered condition. It was surrounded by a tiny strip of garden-ground that was barely rescued from the stretch of sandy deposit which bore the weighty name
of street.
From the vantage point of my carriage I might descry that the exterior paint of this dwelling had long since peeled away, that damaged boards needed repairing and in some parts replacing, and I imagined that there could not be a hinge upon any door that had not been long in the deepest need of oil. Instructing my negro driver not to stray, I followed Mr Wilson's black messenger into the dark interior and on into a small room where my father's former manager, a robustly built, though now ageing man, sat with his onerous new companion, poverty. The whole furniture of his room consisted of a chair, a wooden bench, a basin, a ewer, and a relic of soap of great antiquity. I saw a stained towel, and a glass for one's teeth, but little else. The open window of the room commanded an uninterrupted prospect of the
kitchen,
an open shed unfit for the stabling of a horse. There being evidently neither hostess nor chambermaid to serve me, Mr Wilson himself presented me with a glass of
sangaree.
Then, without more formalities, he rapidly engaged me in conversation, explaining that he had been banished by Mr Brown at gunpoint. Mr Brown, he declared, will brook no discussion on any topic; although Mr Brown is a good
cane-man,
fear, not debate, is his method of government. In short, he seemed keen
to impress upon me that through a perverse stubbornness Mr Brown was mismanaging and abusing the property of my family, and that had Mr Wilson not been in fear of his life he would never have abandoned the estate. Mr Wilson's parting shots on the subject of Mr Brown were to assure me that, by nature, overseers are inclined to be irascible, but this man's nerves ceased to be under control once the sun was vertical!

Briefly our conversation floundered, then I explained to Mr Wilson that although I knew relatively little of island life I had been reliably informed that he had been dismissed for theft. At this Mr Wilson threw back his head and roared with laughter. Stealing! Did I not know that he was the most steadfast of Christians? In his whole life he had never stolen so much as a fruit from a bush. His only crime, he told me, was over-zealous civic pride, and a care for the welfare of the slaves. He had pursued the maximum profit compatible with humane decency. He was, he insisted, unwilling to see the negroes suffer the debilities brought on by cruel oppression for the sake of naked profit. His laughter took on something of the quality of bitter rage, so fiercely did he continue to mock the suggestion that he could be guilty of theft. By now I was so confused that my feverish head had begun to spin anew. I listened perplexedly as Mr Wilson lectured me on civic pride, claiming that despite the providence of God and nature, there was little that could be called beautiful in the West Indian townships, for nobody cared. The streets were poorly laid out, the public and private buildings mostly clumsy wooden structures, and only the churches and Government House had a scrap of style or dignity. True enough, inside of these ramshackle buildings things could be quite tidy, and even comfortable at times, but neither outward appearance nor civic amenity seemed to be given any consideration.

Mr Wilson, seemingly oblivious of my manifest distress, pressed on, condemning the unpaved streets, the great abundance of verminous rats, insects and reptiles which soiled both street and dwelling place. I wondered about the neighbouring
island on which Mr Wilson had sojourned, and asked after him if it were any better cared for. On this topic he dilated at length, claiming that neither it, nor any of these English islands, could boast anything worthy of a glance. They were the holding stations for those who simply wished to extract profit to be lavished on English gaming tables and other more domestic vices. Mr Wilson seemed happy to admit that his unpopularity with the white citizens stemmed from his inclination to speak candidly upon such matters. According to Mr Wilson, what led to his downfall was his defence of a free black from the abuse of power by a petty white retailer. While Mr Wilson was occupied with this philanthropy, Mr Brown, with the assistance of the lesser orders of white power, conspired to unseat Mr Wilson, though he gained much public support from the blacks and even the responsible whites when the black was magically acquitted and the retailer fined. Much to the dismay of the blacks, Mr Wilson was then compelled to run for his life from the mob of whites.

This really was too much. I protested, pointing out that in the not too-distant past Mr Brown had been involved in litigation which resulted in the punishment of a book-keeper for alleged abuses of a slave. My host smiled and commented that perhaps the petty tyrant Brown is learning that it is not possible forever to conceal injustice. I cautiously concurred, then quickly added that it was not possible for me to know for I did not have access to the mind of Mr Brown. Following a rather uneasy silence, I rose to my feet and proposed that it might be better for all concerned if I took my leave. Mr Wilson had the good grace to acknowledge that he was aware that I lacked the power of either censure or discipline, and with this he escorted me to the street. Mr Wilson told me that he would lodge at this rooming-house until the new year, when he planned to return to England, as fortune would have it, by the same ship on which I was due to travel. We bade each other an uneasy farewell, for I was unable to disguise the distress that our discussion had laid upon me. Upon my return I retired swiftly to my bed-chamber, where
I called Stella to attend to me. I asked for some thin gruel to drive out the cold for the strength was rapidly quitting my weak womanly body.

This fierce headache has reduced me to a parlous state. No words can describe my sense of the foulness of the fervid climate that grips and chokes me. My miserable sweltering days are no different from one another man are the sands on the shore. I understand that Arnold has asked for my company, but I instructed Stella to inform him that my lamentable condition would admit of no visitors. There has been no further communication. I feel a gulf is forming between myself and Arnold. He must surely be aware of my audience with his adversary. And what of Arnold's decision regarding the slave Cambridge? Has he finally come to some independent judgement? Poor Mr Wilson, who has suffered so much in his struggle to maintain his values and his dignity. And, of course, poor me. Mr McDonald has paid me a brief and disturbing visit. Surely Arnold will not consider abandoning me now. The revelry has begun anew. The negroes seem to have put aside their troubles and intend to celebrate this imminent Christmas with their customary wild romp, there being little to choose in such cases between savages and children. And what of Father, no doubt deep in his cups at the Planters' Club in London, or swilling champagne in some other company of gentlemen? I can only assume that a
romantic
liaison with some vulgar cockneyess will provide him with his Christmas supper. Does he have no conception of what would claim us all in the tropics were we to slip an inch below the surface of respectability? In these climes all is possible. Perhaps this is why a certain type of man (and woman) longs to settle in these parts. I do not know. How can I know? I have so much still to learn.

How maddening are the senses, how deafening is the heart as life creeps upon her determined course with scant regard for the injuries that are daily afflicted upon mankind, let alone my poor
soul. In the midst of all the tumult of this supposed festivity, a threnody of distress is borne upon the gale. Christmas day and Mr Brown dead. Ambushed returning from church by the same
intelligent
negro with whom he waged a constant war. I must bear some responsibility, for it was I who first encouraged Arnold to delay his decision so that I might enjoy a selfish evening, free from the emotional stresses that a stern and decisive judgement would have placed upon it. And now the negro is hanged from a tree, no longer able to explain or defend his treacherous act. The white people of this island dispatched him as a summary warning to any other negroes who might consider such a mutinous path. I cannot relate the full details of the event, but the haughty black woman Christiania had made her return and was in some way involved. It would not surprise me to discover that others of the blacks have been caught up in this motiveless savagery.

Stella brought Mr McDonald to visit with me again. I lay restlessly upon my bed consumed with a fierce and malignant fever. The Scotchman examined me and retired. Like all white people of the region, he now works with a threatening dark cloud above his head. He returned and informed me that he would sit with me on the next day, and that I may need a sick-nurse. His shame was such that he was unable to meet my eyes. His shame! It is clear that I am in no condition to contemplate a long sea-passage. At the same time I have no wish to remain upon this plantation. In my mind I know the place to which Stella and I will retire until I regain my vitality. My present dereliction leaves me without peace.

Mr Wilson has resumed authority to a clamorous welcome, but he has now the unpleasant task of guiding the heathen slaves towards gathering the very poorest of crops. I am led to understand that my father has been sent for, as mere is concern not only for my health, but for the condition of the estate. It would appear that a major scandal may yet break and shatter the reputations of divers persons. O lucky Isabella that
she never lived to see these shores, never lived to witness the treachery of the negro that some would set free to wreak havoc upon our persons. Their lying subservience, their sly pilfering, their murderous violence, mark them out as very like the Irish, but of an even more childish character. If this overworked land possesses a soul it has indeed been profoundly abused and made to endure much that is evil. Poor Emily. Lucky Isabella, who would always tell me, with regard to my native England, that I must never allow myself to grow old in a country that is unkind to me. Lucky Isabella that she did not live to witness the consequences of her urgings. Stella is but a sad black imitation. Lucky, wise, Isabella.

Pardon the liberty I take in unburdening myself with these hasty lines, but thanks be to God for granting me powers of self-expression in the English language. I humbly beg that those of my dear England, Africans of my own complexion, and
Creoles
of both aspects, might bear with me as I attempt to release from within my person the nature of my extraordinary circumstances. Soon, I know not when, I am to be dispatched. To where, I know not.

Of my early life in the bosom of my family I confess to having little knowledge. On this subject my memory is no more. In my mind I hold a faded portrait of father and mother and brothers and sisters, but their names and occupations have long-since deserted me. That they loved me is not in doubt. In our unsullied state we are a simple and unwarlike people. It is only the cursed avidity for wealth, and the consequent cruelty, knavery, and practice of diabolical arts by English navigators that has turned the hearts of my simple people from natural goodness, and honest affection, towards acts of abomination. Many natives in my home country are canting, deceitful people about whom one must exercise great caution. The treachery of some of our petty kings, encouraged as they are by so-called Christian customers, leaves one in no doubt that gratitude, that most desecrated of words, has long since
fled their crude language. In their dealings my people are great traders and bargainers, having much in common with the Hebrew people in these and other respects. But one should be ever alert and remember from whom my people imbibed the new chicanery. These
Christian
inheritors of the Hebrew tradition have corrupted the virtues of former times.

No longer was I to tarry in my Africa, where my father and mother loved me with a sincere warmth. A storm broke about our dark heads and I, who can remember only my true Guinea name, Olumide, from amongst the many words of youth, was washed towards the coast and away from my rich and fertile soil by
Christian
Providence, whose unlikely agents were those who drink deep of strong liquors, which serve only to inflame their national madness, the slave trade. The Lord intended commerce to enable man to develop the friendly bent of his social affections. Finding his brothers in scattered locales it was hoped that man might forge the sweet blessed security of peace and friendship, while diffusing the goods and commodities of his native land. Such enterprise, with Christian religion as its true companion, would be of profound benefit to any shore fortunate enough to be rewarded with the arrival of traders with soldier-like fortitude, and honest values. It sours my blood that in the Guinea of my youth it was not to be the good fortune of my brethren to meet such men, for unfortunately our shores were visited by those whose eyes were blinded, and hearts stupefied, by the prospect of profit. These men violated the principles of sound commercial policy, and imposed upon their own nation a heavy burden, both moral and financial, for the maintenance of their addiction to slavery. Worse still, they involved the good people of their country in the sorrowful guilt of upholding such a system, thus fusing prejudice into their souls and hardening their hearts.

When I imagine myself to have been not yet fifteen years of age, I was apprehended by a band of brigands and bound by means of a chain to hand and foot. I must confess, to the shame
of my fellow Guinea-men, that I was undoubtedly betrayed by those of my own hue. But it remains true that without instruction and encouragement my native people might never have hardened their hearts and tainted the generous customs of their simple country. Shackled unceremoniously to a fellow unfortunate at both stern and bow, we unhappy
blacks
formed a most miserable traffic, stumbling with jangling resignation towards our doom. About my neck I sported a decoration of gold placed there by my mother's own
fair
hand, and from my ears hung larger and less delicate gold pieces of shape, though mercifully not size, resembling the orange fruit. These paragons of virtue who had possession of my body, if not my soul, soon divested me of these trappings, thus breaking off my tenderly formed links with my parents. In addition to this loss, I was forced to endure pain the like of which I had never suffered.

Come night, our dark and snake-ish company fell into the undergrowth and descended into sleep peopled by demons of the imagination. In the morning I vigorously rubbed these visions from my eyes. Native conversation was forbidden and punishable by the lash. Day and night our ears were forced to admit their English talk which, at this stage, resembled nothing more civilized than the manic chatter of baboons. Sleep often endeavoured to elude my malnourished carcass, and on such occasions I would observe these long-haired spirits crouching feverishly around their bright fire, but I knew not whether they craved heat or if they simply feared animals. Their desire to populate the night with a brackish sacrifice formed a regular part of our uninspiring itinerary. I wondered constantly if these men of no colour, with their loose hair and decayed teeth, were not truly intent upon cooking and eating us, for they seemed overly fond of flesh, carrying about them pounds of salted meat for sustenance. Should they exhaust their supplies and feel desire rise within them for fresh quantities, it seemed to me only natural that they should turn to these helpless specimens in their charge. That Christian instruction forbade
such
Araby
I was not to discover until some years later when I had the good fortune to fall under the spell of Miss Spencer of Blackheath, who, acting according to the renowned charity of her heart, sought to instill in my dull person the rudiments of Sabbath worship and all that proceeds thereof. However, while dressed in the spiritual and physical guise of
Mungo,
I truly feared the ignominy of being torn limb from limb and devoured as some worthless trifle. Lacking a family or friends with whom I might share the powerful terror of my heart, and being forbidden upon pain of death to forge verbal links with my fellow-sufferers, I would often console myself by pouring out my complaints to the very trees and bushes which masked the paths and trails along which we laboured. To them alone I recounted my sorrows, for I viewed these outer garments of nature as my only companions in life. I lamented what I took to be my own wicked heart which rendered me helpless and in this undone state, and in consequence I suffered great misery knowing not the name of God and being therefore unable to pray for His blessing and bestow thanks upon His holy name. Although ignorance prevented my making direct appeal to the author of all my comforts, He must have been sensible of my plight for Almighty God spared me while others were taken up and ushered into the next world in a multiplicity of agonies compounded by extreme sullenness. This feast of suffering was a result of the actions of these vilest of sinners.

On reaching the coast we of the despised complexion were made to understand something of the magnitude of our fall from grace. The sea saluted our reddened and miserable eyes, and pain assaulted our proud African hearts. We acknowledged by means of mutual looks of fear, the understanding that we had arrived at the edge of the known world. But we were in error. The presence of a large wooden vessel riding at anchor led us to believe that our journey – far from having achieved its natural conclusion – had not even commenced. None among us dared imagine what inhospitable regions lay
beyond the waters. Surely the Lord Almighty was with me at this time, and I believe He whispered to me, a poor heathen, words of comfort. So great was His mercy that He took me in hand and enabled me to reign over my quaking terror. We bondaged brethren were herded aboard the vessel with scant consideration for age or infirmity, and treated with less regard than one might bestow upon the basest of animals. We were led to understand by other black fellows, who were evidently in the keep of these white men, that we were not to be devoured. We were informed that soon we would be transported to the white man's country, and once there sold and put to work. These human flesh merchants (for that indeed is what they were) acted towards us with such savagery and brutal cruelty that it remained difficult to believe that they expected profit to be extracted by our eventual sale. We were addressed by one common word,
nigger,
as though we all shared this harsh name. Clearly it was a term lacking in affection, for when it was applied it was commonly partnered by a snarl and a cuff or lash. I was later to learn the truth of this vulgar and illiberal word; it is truly a term of great abuse.

The uncivilized crew made it known that we were to be lodged below deck. One last brief glimpse of the shore was all that we were able to snatch. We fellow captives fixed our watery eyes upon the land in a state of mortal grief. Whether affection for one's country is real or imagined, it is not an exaggeration to proclaim that at this moment instinct of nature suffused our being with an overwhelming love for our land and family, whom we did not expect to see again. Our history was truly broken. With much rough handling and unnecessary ferocity, we were now ushered down into a place of perpetual night. Once below our bodies received a salutation of supreme loathsomeness in the form of a fetor, which affected a manifold increase in the constant grieving and pining which echoed among we brethren. The heat of the climate, the number of cargo, the necessity for loathsome deeds in this common
space, soon rendered this wretched situation impossible. It was to be some days before the vessel set forth. In this time many died where they lay, some on top of others, until the whole scene became one of inconceivable horror. The white men came below with eatables. Those who found the strength to refuse were lashed, often to death. It appeared that bitterness and cruelty were sterner masters than mere avarice. Such malice as these men of very indifferent morals exhibited, I had never witnessed among any people. Their most constant practice was to commit violent depredations on the chastity of female slaves, as though these
princesses
were the most abandoned women of their species. These white vulgarians disgraced not only their nation, but the very name of man.

There is much more I could tell of our hateful sea-passage, but to do so, even at this distance of years, still introduces trembling into my person. Many a time, when invited to the deck to take fresh air and flex our bodies, did my countrymen and myself wish to offer up our hopeless lives to the ocean and leap towards the depths. Sadly, we were tightly chained and closely guarded by our keepers. Such was the severity of our captivity that we were denied even the power over our most fundamental and inevitable destiny; that of our demise. There is one act that I can pluck from this traveller's nightmare and cherish as evidence of the heart's power over the villainous mind of others; a fellow Guinea-man, when clearly in the throes of expiration, chose to bestow upon myself his pap to help nourish my ailing body. No words passed between us, and indeed the proffered gift proved distasteful, but I was overwhelmed with gratitude for his human gesture. None but those who have been truly desperate in mind and body can judge of my feelings at this time. Soon after my benefactor escaped his captivity and triumphed. He silently paid the debt of nature and began a new journey into a world beyond the wickedness of the ship. The Almighty Lord will have amply rewarded him with the gift of His everlasting love.

We, the pitiable black cargo, arrived in the Carolinas, North America, after a singularly unpleasant passage during which, bereft of the means to deliver supplicating addresses, we were forever punished under the feet of cruel tyrants. What a feast of benevolent hearts we had been marooned with! It was at this moment of landfall that my soul entered its period of darkest night, for my brethren were ushered from my sight and onto shore. Their fear caused an uproar the like of which I never again desire to endure. Our
guardians
seized a stratagem to appease their grief; that of the whip, plentifully applied. Having witnessed the dispersal of all my companions, I now resigned myself to the fate of being devoured by my captors. I was exceedingly miserable, and, believing myself undone, I desired my life to be extinguished.

My pining was eventually interrupted by one of my own tint, clad in their livery. Using my native tongue he informed me of my new state. I was not to tarry in the Americas (which by false design I had bargained to be the sole abode of white men), for it was intended that I should journey on to England, the original home of the white man, and 'serve
massa'.
With this information transferred my American
countryman
took his speedy leave, but my
massa
neglected to present himself. This not unnaturally caused me great anguish, for I desired to visualize the captain of my fate. Some days later, having jettisoned the human cargo and taken on board fresh provisions, we hauled anchor and set sail for England. I now found myself quartered in new surroundings above the level of the hold. Resembling neither comfort nor hell, but falling somewhere between the two, one might imagine my relief on discovering that I was not expected to undergo a second, and this time solitary, passage below deck. But still I worried. Furnished with only a board upon which to extend my ulcerated limbs, I waited in trepidation for the onset of white hunger, sure that I would be press-ganged into service.

A week of passage eclipsed during which I learned to agree
with English meats and drinks, and during which the Christmas day fell, whereupon I was rewarded with a day's allowance of fresh beef. Washed and clothed now in the English manner, I received verification of the truth of my position by a first sighting of my master, who endeavoured to convince me of his peaceful nature by the laying on of hands and other entreaties. Upon his departure a whiskered clerk in excess of fifty years of age, who to judge by his very
bookish
demeanour was clearly a recipient of much formal education, was appointed to help me smatter a little imperfect English. By degrees I came to understand most communications about me, whether addressed directly or overheard. My clerk, John Williams, a most amicable native of Norfolk, showed me great attention, seemingly without concern for my complexion. He displayed neither shame nor fear at his association with one such as I, and for my part I found it difficult to believe my fortune in finding some person with a mind superior to prejudice. His kind nature helped to dispatch the consternation I suffered because of the ill-bred abuse of the vulgar crew. During the course of this long passage they derived great pleasure by informing me that declining quantities of food meant they would soon have to kill and eat me. Having had the good fortune to fall in with John Williams, my heart quaked only moderately, as he supplied truthful information to drive out their falsehoods.