Tangled Passion (11 page)

After moments of staring at the ceiling with a lingering smile on his face, Nathan jumped out of bed and ran out of his room. “I need you to have someone prepare me a horse. I need to be taken to the post office in Roseau immediately—Sorry, I think an hour would be the least I need,” he told Edwards.

“Son, you could have asked me about the post office, besides I was on my way to Roseau; I can take you there and maybe show you a few other places and people while there,” Longstands said, giving Nathan a betraying look.

“I am terribly sorry, Father–did not want to bother you at all, maybe another time, I have already arranged to ride with Edwards—I mean Edwards is arranging someone to ride with me to Roseau,” Nathan replied and disappeared into his bedroom. It took him over an hour to complete his letter to Victoria; it was a four-page- long letter and in it, he had detailed the entire happenings at the Fort since he arrived. He talked about Ashana and his intentions for her, his blackmailing scheme against his father, but not in details, and then his mother’s obvious obsession with getting rid of Ashana just to frustrate his effort. After reading the letter over a few times, he concluded he had everything he wanted to tell Victoria in it and then smiled as he licked the envelope and sealed it.

Victoria might not agree with his relationship with a slave girl but she would respect his choice and that was all he wanted. She might also scold him for endangering his relationship with his parents for a girl who was yet to say the words ‘I love you’ to him. But she knew he was a firm believer in love and was as stubborn as hell for whatever he set his mind to do. He was willing to wait until Ashana saw the truth and willingly offered her love to him at a time when she was comfortable to do so. There was no doubt that it would be a slow and long process but all he needed was to start and that was what he planned—as soon as it was dawn, he intended to go with Edwards to her hut and under the tree that was in front of her hut, she would receive her ‘Elementary English Crash Course.’

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“What? Where?” she asked, her eyes sweeping the field from left to right.

“Over there, straight ahead,” Jonah said, positioning himself behind Ashana, holding her head in his palms and guiding it in the direction of the tree.

“Can you see the tree?” he whispered into her right ear.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she said, jumping excitedly, then turning around to hug him.

The two ran through the cane field as fast as they could, speeding wildly towards the mango tree. As they sat in the shade provided by the tree, Ashana’s head on Jonah’s lap, with her eyes looking right up into his, she asked, “What do you think happened to that big snake that glided over us in the tunnel?”

“Honestly, Ash, I really don’t know and don’t really care to know. Whatever happened to it to keep it occupied and away from us was a good thing, at least for us,” Jonah replied, caressing her face and admiring her voluptuous lips. He ran his index finger along the lines of her perfectly symmetrical jaws. “You are beautiful,” he added.

“You are brave,” she said adoringly.

“I don’t know what would have happened to us if you didn’t believe in me, even when it seemed like I didn’t know what I was doing; truly it was your trust and belief in me that gave me all the push that I needed.”

She smiled shyly and looked into his eyes while tears of joy travelled down the sides of her cheeks. “Please don’t do that Jonah; you know you are the strong one, the courageous and brave man that I love, my life couldn’t have been complete without you and there is no way we could have made it here if it was not for your determination and strength,” she said, returning the praise to Jonah.

For a while she was quiet then she slowly sat up and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a hug that was rooted in great admiration and respect for him. As she pressed her body strongly against his, he hugged her back without hesitation and they both fell to the ground and rolled down a slight hill until they lay on their backs a few inches from each other, staring into the web of branches that the leaves of the mango tree stuck into. He reached out his right hand and she gave him her left hand; their fingers touched and then interlocked.

At the Fort there was nothing unusual about that specific morning; the slaves had folded the mats that lay between their bodies and the hard mud floor the night before and went about their Fort morning duties as usual. They had swept the yard, watered the plants and had their usual meagre breakfast before heading to the line-up spot close to the Fort’s exit.

The assistant slave master, Anthony was already there, standing with his legs spread apart and his hands behind his back like a military captain inspecting his troops. It was something he did every morning, a part of his morning routine; he would wait for the slaves to arrive and line up facing him. Then he’d give them a few minutes to quiet down as they adjusted the human line that they had created. After they’d become quiet and still, he’d walk to the end of the line on his left and begin the counting by standing before each person. The person he stood in front of would say his or her name out loud and Anthony would look on the sheet that he had in his hand and tick off the slave’s name.

When Anthony completed the first round of counting with a frown on his face and proceeded to do a recount, some slaves didn’t make anything of it. After all, the man had a demon in him; it was possible the demon had instructed him to do a recount that morning. But when Anthony embarked on a third recount, the slaves realized that something was amiss. They were still wondering what the problem was when something caught their attention–Anthony had suddenly taken off on a run, speeding off as fast and as wildly as one chased by a swarm of violent bees.

It wasn’t long before the lines broke up into small groups and the noise that ensued was equivalent to that of the open-air African fish market. “Two of us escaped last night,” one of the slaves said at the top of his voice; a voice that was heavy with fear and uncertainty. The chattering in the crowds dissipated immediately and in no time the man was surrounded by those who not only shared his fear but also were hungry for more of whatever information he had.

“The young boy, Jonah and the young girl Ashana,” he said softly, igniting a loud uproar amongst the crowd, which suddenly broke apart in different directions, each man or woman with his or her unique way of expressing displeasure and anger. Most of the men crossed their hands across their chests and bowed their heads while the women placed their hands on their heads, some weeping uncontrollably; causing the uproar to grow even louder. Soon the scattered crowd converged around the man once again asking for more details.

“What about the people that share the same hut with him, didn’t they know about the plan?” a voice from the crowd asked.

“Nobody knew and now we all are going to pay the price for their actions,” he answered; the latter part of his answer causing the crowd to disperse in different directions once again, with a greater number of the women already wailing at the top of their voices.

They had enjoyed a relatively privileged life at the Fort, compared to what other plantations had to offer. Even though they had to work really hard every day, they always returned to the peace and security that the Fort offered. The Fort provided them with somewhat of an improvised community life, even though they were only allowed to assemble in the evenings to do what they wished. None of the other slaves in the other plantations enjoyed such privilege. It was a privilege that they now risked losing, if in fact the slaves had escaped the Fort. This angered some of them greatly and the men debated amongst themselves; each explaining and counting the number of ways that the escape would or could affect their lives negatively. Others remained quiet, not willing to express their thoughts and opinions. Most of those who remained quiet were in support of the young escapees and thought that their action or attempt was heroic, but they had their reasons for not airing their views.

Master Longstands, his son, Nathan, and Assistant Slave Master Anthony had been standing in full view of the on-going commotion for a good bit of time without being noticed by the slaves, who were still wrapped in the heat of the chaos. They watched the slaves argue and point fingers, much like the members of the British Lower Chamber deadlocked on a debate about a planned tax increase.

As he had been doing for a while, Luaba continued to give his friend Klabbier gentle kicks but Klabbier was so consumed by the heated debate that he barely felt them. Luaba had seen Massa Longstands and immediately stood upright and ceased talking. Since then he had been trying to get his friend’s attention but it seemed as though in the heat of the tumult, the blood in Klabbier’s legs had temporarily collected in his head, making it impossible for him to feel any pains in his legs. Luaba took a deep breath and gave Klabbier one last kick that he meant to not only get his attention but also hurt him.

“Ahhhhh, Luaba why did you do that?” Klabbier almost cried. Luaba remained silent as if Klabbier wasn’t referring to him and kept his eyes fixed at Massa Longstands and Anthony.

“Luaba, I am talking to you, why did you...”  Klabbier said angrily but his friend didn't pay him any attention but kept his eye fixed at a location behind Klabbier. “What are you looking at?” Klabbier asked, frowning and following Luaba’s eyes. This led his eyes to Massa Longstands, who was standing in an obscure location watching the slaves, lost in confusion. Klabbier straightened up immediately and in a moment, a ripple effect of kicks went round the rowdy crowd and calm returned.

When Longstands opened his mouth, fear tumbled down the spines of the slaves. Their heads turned in one sweep towards Edwards and their eyes queried his for the interpretations to what the Massa said.

“Ask them if I have not treated them well?” Longstands said, without looking at Edwards.

The crowd nodded in agreement and Edwards conveyed their response.

“No Massa, Massa no treat slaves bad,” he said and waited for Longstands to open his mouth again.

After a brief silence, Longstands opened his mouth again.

“Ask them if I have been mean to them.”

Edwards turned to the slaves and translated, trying as hard as he could to make sure he had as much emotion in his interpretations as the original source. The words pierced the fearful like the sharp point of a sword before the full edges of the blade; they feared what could possibly follow if Massa Longstands started his reprimand by reminding them how kind he had been.

“Tell them, Edwards that we can continue to live like a family in this Fort or we can change all of that and make this place like other plantations,” Longstands continued, still not looking at Edwards.

Edwards translated with a quivering voice and a bitter murmur rose from the slaves.

“No Massa, we live like family.” Edwards gave Longstands a response without consulting the slaves, whose eyes had become clouded with tears.

Longstands remained quiet for some time, he meant to let his words sink to the bottom of the souls of the slaves and stir up fear; the type of fear that led the cowards to confess and betray their friends and many times, their very own families. He had already seen what effect his few words were having, he was getting the exact result he wanted; he had planned it. He’d attack them psychologically, slowly injecting fear into their systems and then watch the fear poison their physical strength and break down their will—it was working.

“I want anybody that has any kind of information about this escape to come forward and tell me now!” he added. Edwards translated but none of the slaves moved.

Longstands wasn’t surprised, none of them would openly approach him to divulge such information even if they wanted to, certainly not while the other slaves were there. So he quickly re-thought his strategy. “Edwards!” he called and then whispered into Edwards’s ear. Less than an hour later, a shed made out of four wooden pillars was erected. It had no roof and the walls were made from cloth tied to the wooden pillars. A chair was provided, upon which Longstands sat. Nathan and Edwards stood with him in the shed while Anthony ushered in the slaves one at a time.

Nathan had insisted on Edwards being blindfolded. This strategy was likely to work, as it guaranteed complete anonymity.

“I honestly think this is a waste of time, Father,” Nathan said grinding his teeth and running his fingers through his hair over and over again. His father ignored him. “We are letting the runaway slaves escape farther away while we stand here and hope to find a clue that isn’t coming and mightn’t be able to help us in the long run,” Nathan protested.

There was sense in what his son was saying but then it was a game of chance; at the end of the questioning session they might get all they needed to track down and catch the slaves very easily and very quickly or they might find nothing at all. But in the meantime, the slaves were making their way deeper and deeper into the bushes and farther away from them; the boy was right about that. “Patience Nathan, I do get your point but this is the time to exercise some patience,” Mr. Longstands said very gently to his son. Turning to Edwards, he whispered a few words. Edwards nodded and was on his way immediately. He was heading to the next plantation in Carlibishi for the professional slave hunters when Longstands called him back into the shed. Edwards listened to the voice of one of the slaves and translated the words; “Ask old man, sleep in same hut, he and boy very best friend, old man like boy father. Last night old man come to hut late late but boy no come.”