Cambridge (20 page)

We were but one day's distance from the coast, when I ventured to retrieve my remaining three hundred and fifty guineas. I was astonished to discover it removed from its hiding place. My first inclination was that the mistake was mine, and so I searched all possible locations. After many hours, and with great regret, I arrived at the conclusion that the wealth of my Gallic companion must have increased during the passage of our voyage. This uncharitable deduction gained credence when I confronted the vagabond. With a flurry of shoulder motions, and gesticulations of the arms, he made it known that I should present my case to the captain. Upon my petition my host and captain ordered his men to throw me into the belly of the vessel and confine me in irons in a condition of captivity all too familiar. The crew brought me water and crusts, but they would not respond to my pleas that the captain be informed that I was willing for he and the French rogue to take my guineas so long as I might have my liberty. My submissions fell on deaf ears, and so my fate appeared to be sealed. I prayed to the Lord that he might spare me, and I made promise that should he do so I would redouble my Christian efforts, for at this moment I very much feared the
horrors that lay ahead. My former passage rose in dreadful review and showed only misery, stripes and chains. In one moment of weakness I called upon God's thunderous avenging power to direct the sudden state of death to myself, rather than permit me to become a slave and be passed from the hand of one man to another like a sack of grain. But the Lord, in his mercy, chose to spare me.

We rode at anchor on what I knew to be the coast, for the noises were those of unloading, and the heat and odour that of my native land. In this confined state I made continued and faithful pleas to the Almighty Lord. One whole week transpired before I realized that I would soon be visited by Guinea-men. I heard their voices, shrill in their different native tongues, and men they were upon me and bemoaning the circumstances which had led to their illegal captivity. That I could still make a little sense of my own native language among the many spoken gave me some comfort, but the treachery of these white men, even towards one such as I who esteemed their values, tore at my heart with great passion. That I, a virtual Englishman, was to be treated as base African cargo, caused me such hurtful pain as I was barely able to endure. To lose my dear wife, fair England, and now liberty in such rapid succession! Torrents of tears broke from my eyes, for I knew now that I would have to describe yet another passage of loss. The horrors of this second illegal journey I have chosen to forget, although this unnatural and painful murdering of the memory has caused me distress at least as great as that suffered whilst enduring the voyage. After many weeks of torment, the ship finally came to anchor. Having the advantage of a Christian education, I had no doubt that we were in the region of the Americas. My countrymen, however, were seized with great fear, knowing neither location nor their destiny. We articles of trade, once liberated from the intolerable aroma of the pestilential hold, were directed to remain on deck. From this vantage point we were able to observe the tropical new world that was now,
home.

The vulgar crew seemed in a state of great joy, knowing that they would soon be on land. I simply listened and fretted at the blasphemous language displayed by these men. Then I caught the eye of both the captain and the Frenchman, but these buccaneers endeavoured to ignore my glare of Christian devotion tinged with anger. Unlike the parishioners of Warwickshire, whom I felt obliged to punish with love, these two devils I would have gladly tossed into the waters. Perhaps they sensed this, for although I made no further application for what was rightfully mine, my gaze provoked much shuffling of their feet. We drew close to the harbour and took cover amongst ships of different sizes and purpose. Under the blanket of darkness many planters and overseers came aboard and divided our black company into smaller parcels before deciding upon their illegal purchases. I faced these white men, with more knowledge of their country than they could possibly imagine, believing that through hard work and faith in the Lord God Almighty, my bondage would soon cease. The African world of my sad, dark brethren had been truly abandoned across the waters. They knew this now. For them a new American life was about to commence.

I alone of my parcel was purchased by a Mr Wilson, who made it known that my tide was to be Cambridge. He pointed towards me and repeated the word as though addressing an infant. My visage betrayed no trace of anger. I decided that by degrees I would reveal to them my knowledge of
their
language. Travelling by cart, we passed through the coastal capital of Baytown, and then turned inland. We picked our slow way up a hillside towards the plantation upon which I was to labour as a common slave. I listened as Mr Wilson addressed his black driver. He commented that he believed I possessed more intelligence than the others on offer, which caused me inwardly to smile. However, despite my large frame, he believed my physical strength, while far from disappeared, to be somewhat unsatisfactory when set against the potential lustiness of my
fellow cargo. My
master
declared his purchase to be 'calculated'. We arrived at the plantation and I was rudely introduced to a hut which I was led to believe would be my
house.
Once inside I discovered a simple bench Uttered with straw, and a stench so insupportable that, although greatly desirous of sleep, such a commodity was impossible. I understood, through my own knowledge of the business, that I would be
seasoned
alone. Furthermore, I knew that any sign of indiscipline would be severely punished.

I passed my first weeks in solitude. Only fleeting visits from an exceedingly strange, yet spiritually powerful young girl, who daily brought me food and water, disturbed my isolation. When my seasoning was deemed complete, it was this same girl who began to escort me about the plantation and introduce me to my fellow slaves. My rapid acquisition of
their
language shocked them. I simply explained that I had tarried a while amongst English people, but when pressed I would say no more. I had determined that I would be a strange figure, quiet and reserved, for I intended my residence on this plantation to be brief, and felt that it would be unfair to begin to deliver a
sermon
I might never have the opportunity to conclude. I hoped that none amongst them would take offence at my reluctance to participate fully in their slave lives. Certainly the girl seemed content, and soon I came to develop a true affection for my odd female companion, and she for me. I told the girl nothing of my Anna, not wishing to divulge, in this place of unhappiness, anything of my previous felicity and taint my Anna's memory by association. Young and aloof, my unlikely escort, I quickly discovered, occupied among her slave-peers a position of respect occasioned by a formidable suspicion of her person.

Her history was a sad one. Born on the plantation, her mother had died shortly after her delivery, and her pagan father naturally spurned her. At ten years of age she was
married
to a man twenty years her senior. For three years this man treated her brutally while she refused to produce children.
Meanwhile, the evidence of his capable manhood could be seen scampering across the slave village and improving his master's fortune by the minute. Her
husband
was eventually traded to another plantation, presumably to further display his breeding skills, and the girl was once more abandoned with neither protector nor any person who might show her some outward sign of affection. She subsequently developed a sullen nature which caused her fellow slaves to fear her, for their understanding was that the cruelties inflicted upon her during her violent
marriage
had merely compounded the strangeness that the unloved misery of her early years had forged in her soul.

Now I was manifestly a West Indian slave, but I refused to accept the woeful conclusion that there was little hope of manumission through either the generosity of Mr Wilson, or the evidence of my good deeds. The execrable years bred quickly but never, not for one moment, did I lose faith in the redeeming powers of the Good Lord. My hair took on a grey aspect, and my strength began to fade, yet all the while I remained true to my Lord and hoped one day to be afforded the privilege of preaching again in dear England on the subject of my travels and experiences as a son of God. Sadly, as she budded into womanhood, my strange escort became even more unpopular amongst her fellow-slaves. Her curious mind remained closed, and she seemed incapable of conversing with anybody beyond myself. I talked with her of our Lord, and attempted to explain that Jesus Christ had lain down his life for such as us, but her undeniably spiritual nature was absorbed in an entirely different direction.

The other slaves claimed her to be a possessor of the skills of obeah, but I refused to be drawn into their discussions. I recognized in her a growing aberrance and mind-wandering detachment, yet the loneliness that this
ailment
necessarily bestows upon its victims may have contributed to the powerfully sympathetic affection that I continued to feel towards her. Perhaps
we were a case of
curiosity
attracting
curiosity,
for the respect which I commanded on account of my Christian learning and knowledge of the world was matched only by the caution with which every person viewed my woman friend. After a slow and wilfully paced courtship that lasted many West Indian seasons, I, Cambridge the field-hand, requested that the woman occupy my hut as my
wife.
Without uttering a word she willingly agreed, for she was now entering a period of her malady when she insisted that she distrusted words. And so we began to share our lives in my hut, and I watched and cherished her, all the while praying that the infusion of Christian values into her soul might help to obscure the miserable details of her life, which others claimed had resulted in her being
blessed
with this excess of pagan vision.

Years of drudgery lumbered by, and I wondered if I should ever be set free from this unChristian labour. Indeed, I worried that perhaps my God was punishing me for my sinful existence, even though He must have known that should I have requested a Christian wedding ceremony it would have certainly been denied. I had raised the question of my fellow slaves' continued adherence to crude African religions with our local man of the cloth, Mr Rogers. The minister, whilst openly acknowledging the correctness of my concerns, sought even as he spoke to a black Christian to introduce me to the notion that converted negroes soon became perverse and intractable. He further maintained that conversion was an inadequate tool with which to combat the perpetual absence of the Christian virtues of family life, morality and social discipline that he frequently found in 'the black stock'. Not unnaturally, I felt inclined to ask after him what he therefore imagined his role to be while he existed in this West Indian region, but I desisted, feeling pity and revulsion for this man who would attempt to build a false notion that all of a black skin are tainted with Cain's crime, or that of Noah's son, Ham. This weak man, who without doing a stroke of God's work simply coughed and perspired abnormally in the tropical
heat, confirmed my long-held suspicion that many covetous and profligate individuals are often admitted to the clergy. The blocking up of all the inlets to the spiritual regeneration of the negro seemed his sole and devilish task. That such a man might condescend to marry a pair of negroes after the Christian manner was optimism beyond all reason.

One night, on hearing some distant commotion, my
wife
awoke with a start. It was not until the clear light of day that I discovered that the veteran Mr Wilson had been driven off our estate by his overseer, Mr Brown. Mr Wilson had proved himself a tolerably decent man and I, in common with many others, was sorry to see his demise. Doubly so in that he was replaced by Mr Brown, a bullying brute of an overseer who seemed trapped within the imagined swaggering authority of his own skin. His first act was to attempt to reorganize the status among the slaves to suit his own purpose. To this end it was suggested that I accept the title of Head Driver. Not wishing to be master to any, I declined, and so began the period of conflict between myself and this Mr Brown. He could not accept my
disobedience.
Although no words passed through his lips, it was clear that he had determined to reduce the
haughty
Cambridge, who by now had long revealed to all a firmer grasp of the English language than any, including Mr Brown, might ever conceive of achieving. I had also, much to this Mr Brown's chagrin, gained the true respect of my fellow-toilers, who affectionately styled me
the black Christian.

Life continued without reference to the calendar, until one evening Mr Brown appeared at my hut after dark. His breath was contaminated with liquor and his person evidently consumed with passion. That my poor
wife
was the object of his frothful desire I had no doubt, but I decided that he should not satisfy himself upon her like an animal. As though reading my mind, Mr Brown drew his pistol and ordered me to leave my own hut. The pitiful pleading of my unsound
wife,
who saw that Mr Brown was truly determined to kill me if necessary,
encouraged me to leave. Her distress attracted the attention of my fellow-slaves, who stood in the darkness as though this humiliation was something that we ought to endure as a company. Their hidden purpose was clear, for they wished to ensure that I should not decide upon any action, self-destructive or otherwise.

It appeared that my
wife,
in one of her not uncommon flights of fantasy, had recently taken to conducting herself as though the mistress of the Great House. The fearful house-servants were unable to sway her from her queer purpose, and there abounded in the Great House a state of anarchy. However, although my
wife's
pantomime had been in operation for some weeks, the principal cause of this destructive disorder was not her unseemly behaviour, but Mr Brown's inexplicable toleration of this charade. His
patience
extended as far as allowing her to share his table. Perhaps he looked upon my comely
wife
as a visual entertainment, in the same manner that some Englishmen keep about them dwarfs or pet monkeys? Or was he lonely? Or was he simply humouring her in anticipation of this moment when he might punish both my
wife
and myself with one act of brutal desire? I prayed to the good Lord to release my poor simple
wife,
who, although not my wedded wife in his eyes, meant as much to me as any who might occupy that station. And men my God answered me as a sated Mr Brown reappeared, seemingly unconcerned by the suffering he had inflicted, and oblivious of the gathering of slaves, all of whom viewed this man as a disgrace to his own people and their civilization. The next day Mr Brown found weak pretext to inflict upon me a severe beating in the presence of an English female. Whether this was some customary ritual to ensure easier access next time he should choose to visit my
wife,
or due punishment for the defiance I had chosen not to hide, I could not tell. But upon my back, in a series of random patterns, were markings that cut deep into my flesh. After Mr Brown's violation the bond between my
wife
and
I, although still intact, began to be tried beyond its strength. The woman steadfastly refused to adopt the Christian religion, which continued to cause some unpleasant friction between us, but to my horror she now reverted to dirt-eating and other abominations. I traced this filthy behaviour to a
sickness
brought on by Mr Brown's hunger, although this by no means justified such paganism. For his part, Mr Brown continued to trifle with her reason by tolerating her fanciful delusions as she continued to sport herself as the mistress. It was, however, the arrival of the English female that seemed to pitch my
wife
into her final and irrevocable madness. This Englishwoman, the daughter of our true owner, appeared amongst us, and after an extended convalescence she entered fully into our miserable society. On the rare evenings when my
wife
paid me the compliment of returning to my hut, she began now openly to mock at my Christian beliefs and to scream out for her long-lost mother. This caused my heart to swell with bow sorrow and anger, for, as is well known, a Christian man possesses his wife, and the dutiful wife must obey her Christian husband. Accordingly, at the conclusion of the week's labour, I decided to seek an audience with Mr Brown at which I intended to instruct him to cease indulging my
wife's
behaviour, and to offer him the opportunity of cleansing his heathen conscience and confessing his role in her recent sad demise.