Little Black Girl Lost 4 (6 page)

Chapter 15

I
t took three months to cross the Atlantic. The long voyage with no white women aboard made the African females very desirable. Three months at sea had a way of producing a level of debauchery in sailors few people experienced or even knew about. Raping the slave women was viewed as a perk for being a valued member of the crew.

Prior to reaching the coast of Africa, the crew of the
Windward
spoke daily of when they would be able to satisfy their burgeoning lust by ravaging young black virgins every night on the way to Santo Domingo, where they would unload a portion of the slaves and take on sugar, rum, and tobacco. Having cowed the prince, who was a threat to lead a successful rebellion, Captain Rutgers and his crew were ready to take the spoils of slavery without fear of being murdered in their sleep.

Rutgers grabbed Ibo by the arm and dragged her below deck. He looked back over his shoulder and smiled at Amir, who was beside himself with rage. Below deck now, he dragged her down the narrow passageway that led to his cabin, and threw her on the floor.

After witnessing the depth of his cruelty on deck, she expected to be raped. She had no fight left in her. At sixteen, she had seen much more than she ever cared to. She thought about her mother and her father and how much better it would have been if she had just stayed at home the night she ran away to be with the love of her young and impressionable life.

Just as she was being dragged into the captain's cabin, she remembered Adesola, the man she was engaged to and the succeeding king of Dahomey, and how she had betrayed him with his brother. She wondered how much better off she would have been if she had married him like her father had planned. She further wondered what her mother thought of her betrayal. Did she think her a whore? By now they had to know that she and Amir had run off together.

“Undress!” she heard Rutgers shout.

Chapter 16

I
bo sat there, still on the floor, looking up at him, thinking that she was about to be ruined for Amir, whom she still loved, but whom she blamed exclusively for all of this. He had promised her she would be happy and that they would have lots of children, and that he would be a builder of ships. Just the opposite had happened. They were not happy, they were not married, and if she had any children, it looked as if they would be Captain Rutgers' brood. When she thought of it all, she covered her face with her hands and wept uncontrollably.

Rutgers grabbed her by the shoulders and stood her up. He smelled the vomit on her purple silk and turned away when the stench registered in his mind. “Undress! Now!”

Whimpering, she said, “I am a maiden. Please . . . do not deal with me in this manner. I will do anything you say . . . only do not do this dastardly deed. It will be a sin on your eternal soul.”

Rutgers backhanded her and she fell backward onto the bed. “I said get undressed, girl! I'll be back in a few minutes and you better be butt naked when I return. If not, I'll toss the prince over the side and let the sharks eat him alive.” He turned around and stormed out.

Rutgers returned a few minutes later with a naked black female at his side. With a fistful of her hair, he bent her over as he forced her into his cabin. It was clear that the young woman had been beaten; her cheek bones were swollen and bruised. Tears flowed freely. She kept pleading with Rutgers in her native language, but he had no idea what she was saying, nor did he care. She was his to do with as he pleased. Her desire for sex was not a prerequisite.

When he saw that Ibo was still fully dressed, he backhanded her again with his free hand. She fell to the floor. Still using the other woman's hair to control her, he threw her onto the bed.

Trembling, the woman watched to see what he would do to the woman already in the room when they arrived. She hoped that he would choose her instead. If Rutgers was going to violate one of them, she didn't want it to be her.

He grabbed Ibo by the shoulders and stood her up. Then he slapped her again.

She felt her warm blood run down both nostrils, over her lips, down her chin, and onto her soiled clothing. Dazed and disoriented, she heard the tearing of clothing. A second or so later, she realized Rutgers had torn her expensive frock down the middle and her bare breasts were exposed and bouncing. She tried to fight him off, but he slapped her again.

When she could focus again, she was sitting in a velvet-lined spoon-back chair. She could see Captain Rutgers raping the female he had brought with him. She was lying on her stomach and Rutgers was on top of her—thrusting wildly, violently. But a strange thing was happening. He was watching Ibo the entire time. Looking into her deep-set brown eyes drove him wild. Her full lips made him want to take them into his mouth and gently kiss and suckle them.

He continued staring; thrusting powerfully, ignoring the woman's pain-filled cries as if he couldn't hear them. But he could hear them. Her cries were a part of it. They added to his pleasure. The more the woman cried and pleaded, the better it felt to him. With each thrust, his gaze seemed to intensify.

That's when Ibo realized that the woman he was raping was a substitute for what he wanted to do to her. She looked at the woman.

They locked eyes.

The woman's eyes begged for help, but Ibo didn't move, couldn't move. What she saw was a horrifying spectacle of depravity, and yet she couldn't stop watching the atrocity.

She looked into Rutgers' eyes again. She could tell he was enjoying the sex he took by force, because his eyes had rolled back into his head. She could barely see his pupils.

Rutgers regained focus and locked eyes with Ibo until he finished, until all of his intensity left him and entered the girl, until his entire body relaxed, until his eyes became drowsy, and he fell asleep on top of the girl. She was still sobbing quietly into the fabric of the polychromatic quilt that covered the bed.

Chapter 17

I
bo waited until she was sure Rutgers was in a deep sleep before allowing herself to move an inch, watching him and the girl for nearly forty-five minutes without so much as batting her eyelashes. During that time, Rutgers had moved only slightly and made a few night sounds, which made her even more cautious. The girl appeared to be sleeping too.

Finally, she forced herself to get up from the chair that had turned her into a voyeur of the wickedly violent seizure. Still naked, she crept over to the trunk that contained her clothing and opened it.

All of her clothes were still neatly folded and pristine. She found another garment to wear; this one wasn't as classy or stately as the other and not nearly as pretty. Earlier that day, she had given a lot of thought as to what she would wear when she saw Amir. She had wanted to make the right statement, even in custody, believing that it was temporary, believing their marriage would be permanent. Therefore, she had been quite meticulous in selecting just the right dress so that she would at least be presentable in the presence of the prince.

Purple was the color of royalty, and she had wanted the prince to know that even in captivity, she was worthy to be his wife. On their three-day journey, she had told the prince that of all the garments his mother had made for her, she loved that particular piece best. When she put it on, she thought it would please him. She wanted to be beautiful and desirable so that when they were free again, he would still want her. But now, after having shown her humanness, after being weak and throwing up the contents of her stomach in front of foreigners, she felt as if she had lost a measure of respect in his eyes. Giving in to Captain Rutgers' demands had made matters worse.

She had noticed that the man who had been guarding her was no longer there when Rutgers brought the woman back to the cabin. She assumed he was above deck with the rest of the Dutchmen.

She had to find Amir. She had to find out what they were going to do to get out of the mess they found themselves in. Amir would have a plan, she knew, or at least believed. Even though she blamed him for everything, she knew that if they had any chance of being free again, he would have to be liberated. If he could emancipate them somehow and return them to the shores of their native land, all would be forgiven and their capture would be a distant but unforgettable narrative that they would pass down from generation to generation.

At the cabin door now, she looked back at Rutgers to see if he and the girl were still asleep. With her body still facing the door, she swiveled her head to the right, peering over her slender shoulder. Rutgers was still in a deep sleep, but the girl was watching Ibo's every move while his heavy weight nearly smothered her.

Although the woman never said a word, her eyes pleaded for Ibo to escape and come back and free her. Her eyes screamed for justice for what he had done to her, what he had done to them all that day. Her eyes were full of murderous revenge—sweet and extremely cold. For those reasons, Ibo knew she would remain perfectly still, perfectly quiet until she returned. They were in this together.

Carefully, she turned the knob and pulled back the door. With it open, she looked for the guard. She didn't see him in the passageway. She looked back again. Rutgers didn't move. The girl's eyes encouraged her to go and free the others so that they could kill the white men that had done this evil to them. She slipped out the door and then pulled it behind her, leaving it partially open, not making a sound. Her heart thundered,
ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom,
feeling like it would burst and end her life at any moment.

She quelled her fear and made her way down the torch-lit corridor, hearing groans of ecstasy and moans of misery. Loud slaps penetrated the walls, followed immediately by agonizing pleas for mercy. Brutal violations were taking place behind every door she passed. The cries of the women were so piercing that she knew she would never forget those sounds. She wanted to open the doors and help them subdue the Dutchmen, but knew she had to keep moving, she had to stay focused; first things first—she was safe as long as the men were “entertaining” themselves.

As she neared the end of the passageway, she saw stairs that led to the deck. Another set of stairs went farther into the bowels of the ship. She heard a couple of Dutchmen talking at the top of the stairs. She couldn't quite make out what they were saying, as they were too far away.

Hoping they wouldn't hear her, she made her way down to the cargo hold, where she hoped to find Amir and the other hostages. As she descended farther and farther into the recesses of the
Windward,
she could feel the unrelenting heat rising, as if it were coming from a great furnace. Before long, she could hear groans of despair and motion sickness. And then the foul air hit her bloodied nose with the force of a sledgehammer and threatened to knock her out, but she marched on, kept moving ever downward into the pit that could be aptly described as hell on water.

Guided by a crescendo of groans, she approached the end of her furtive journey, but she was impeded by a final door. She turned the knob and pushed, but the door was locked. With her hands, she searched for a way to unlock it. Having found the way in, she slid the bar to the right and turned the knob again. The door opened, and the smell that came from that place rocked her equilibrium and forced her to her knees, where she vomited a second time. She wasn't alone, though. She could hear dozens of others throwing up too.

Still on her knees, she called out to him. Her voice trembled when she spoke his name. “Amir. My sweet Amir.” Hearing nothing, she called out again, her voice still quivering, “Oh, my darling. Oh, my love, please answer me.” Overcome by emotion, she called out a third time, “Guide me to your side and I will free you.”

Like a mother who can distinguish her infant's cry from all others, her ears, like radar, locked in on the only voice that mattered at that moment.

“Ibo,” he called out. His voice was strong and commanding. “I am here. Come to me.”

Chapter 18

A
mir's voice was like an oasis in a dry and barren place. It watered her dry heart, which ached for only him, and reinvigorated her strength of mind. On her hands and knees, she crawled to the voice that led her through the dimly-lit dungeon. On the way, her eyes took in the horrors of slavery. She saw hundreds of men, row upon row of them, shackled together, packed like sardines. She heaved a couple more times, but managed to control the urge to spill her insides on the floor.

Rutgers had shielded her from it, as she was a pearl of great price. She had been fed regular food and kept in mint condition so that she would bring him maximum price. But there, in the hellish belly of the
Windward,
she knew for the second time what it meant to be owned by Dutchmen. There, in that dark and filthy place, where men were chained together, she recognized and even felt a level of gloom that if embraced, undermined hope's audacity.

“I am here,” his voice called out again.

She looked to the left and there was Amir, chained to two men, one on the left and the other on the right. She cringed when her eyes beheld him. His royal highness was on his back, completely nude, lying in his own filth. Vomit was on his face and at the corners of what was once a regal mouth. She couldn't distinguish his vile smell from that of his shackled brothers, one of whom was dead and beginning to rot.

Seeing Amir in that state robbed her of a certain measure of respect that she once had for him. Seeing him in that state knocked him off the throne she had put him on. Seeing him in that state awakened her to a reality never before imagined, and she lost heart. How was he going to save her when he couldn't even save himself?

Amir turned his head to the left and vomited on the dead man. He turned to her again and said, “You must be strong if you are to survive.”

When his vile breath entered her nose, she nearly fainted. Were she not already on her knees, she would have been. She forced herself to stop breathing so she could concentrate on his words.

“Do you understand, Ibo? You must be strong.”

No longer able to restrain them, the tears flowed freely and she wept aloud. “I understand, but I came to free you and the others!”

“No. The time is not right.”

“But, Amir, the Dutchmen are forcing us! They are taking the things most sacred. Do you not care?”

Amir ignored her question. Of course he cared, of course he wanted to be free, of course he wanted to take all their heads off at the shoulders.

With compassion, he said, “I know, my love. But you will survive even that, and we will have our revenge on the Dutchmen.”

“But, Amir, Captain Rutgers raped a woman right in front of me. He made me watch with no clothes to cover me.”

“You must pretend to cooperate, but your heart will be as a ravenous lion. Your tongue must become a wily serpent. And then, when they least expect it, we will come out of the shadows and crush them. We will do what they have done to us—everything they have done, we will do in like manner. We will take no prisoners; we will leave none of them alive—their families too. They must all die swiftly and without mercy.

“Use whatever happens to you to make you strong, and then you will be able to destroy your enemy. Do everything you can to make him feel safe and he will relax. Make him think you have accepted him as your lord. Can you do that, my love?”

“I don't know, Amir. What if he wants me? What then?”

“If he was going to force you, he would have by now. But . . . if it happens, use even that to weaken him. Can you do that?”

“Oh, Amir, I don't know. I don't know if I can do that. I would rather die than give the Dutchmen the thing most sacred.”

“I don't want this for you, my love. Survival is first. Revenge second. There can be no revenge without survival; therefore, you must, Ibo. Now, leave this place before you are discovered.”

“What about you, Amir? Will you survive in this dark and filthy place?”

“I will. My resolve is strong. I have made up my mind. I will not be broken. Now . . . leave this place and do not come back. Be ready at all times. An opportunity will present itself at the right moment. Be patient.”

Weakly, she said, “Okay.”

“Let me hear you say you will do whatever it takes to survive.”

She bowed her head and whispered, “I'll do whatever it takes to survive.”

“Louder!”

Firmly, she said, “I'll do whatever it takes to survive.”

“Say it like you believe it, Ibo! Say it with conviction!”

“I'll do whatever it takes to survive!”

“Keep saying it until you believe it, and you will survive. Be patient for as long as it takes. I will be with you in spirit. I promise you I will come for you.”