by Every, Donna
“Don’t say so, Cassie,” Sarah begged her. “I don’ want no more trouble for Deborah.”
“He ain’ like Master William, you could see that,” comforted Cassie.
Just then the kitchen door burst open and Jethro ran in, sweating and agitated.
“Where Deborah? The mistress want to see her.”
“Why she send you? What she want?” asked Sarah standing up.
“I don’ know what Deborah do but the mistress tell me to bring a whip and find Deborah. She want me to flog Deborah. Losee, I don’t know what to do. The master never ask me to do anything like that. How I supposed to flog Deborah? But I can’ tell the mistress no. I don’t know what to do.” He paced up and down.
“Flog Deborah? For what?” Sarah’s voice rose in fear as she asked the question but she already knew the answer. Dread pooled in her belly as she realized that the mistress had at last found something that she could use to punish Deborah.
“Oh loss, she wait ‘til Master Thomas turn his back to plan this. What to do?”
“Jethro, have you found that insolent girl yet?” The mistress’ voice penetrated the door before she pushed it open.
“Where is Deborah?” She looked around the room.
“She out picking herbs,” Hattie volunteered, earning her glares from all the slaves.
“What she do, mistress?” asked Sarah fearfully.
“As if you don’t know. I should flog you as well! I expect either the dress or the rest of my material to be returned to me immediately and burn that dress that Deborah wore to the party. Jethro, find her and bring her to the whipping post in the yard. It’s time to teach that girl a lesson.”
“It is my fault mistress. Flog me instead of Deborah. She didn’ mean nothing by it. She didn’t like how the dress was fitting and the master said...”
“Jethro, you heard me,” Elizabeth interrupted, ignoring Sarah’s plea. “If that girl is not stripped and tied to the post in ten minutes, you will get the flogging instead.” With that she left the kitchen and went to sit in her favorite chair on the patio.
Pandemonium broke out in the kitchen. Sarah started to cry and Jethro looked torn as if he would cry too. He didn’t know what to do. He jumped when Deborah appeared at the back door with her basket full of herbs. Seeing her mother in tears, she dropped the basket and rushed to her.
“What is the matter?”
In short time she discovered what her fate was to be for rebelliously refusing to wear the same dress as the other slaves. She realized, too late, that she had played right into the mistress’ hands. She suddenly didn’t feel so brave when she saw the leather whip in Jethro’s hand and the regret in his eyes.
Panic flooded her as she recalled seeing one of the runaway slaves tied to the whipping post and whipped until his back was a crisscross of bleeding welts and his voice was too hoarse to cry with the sting of each blow after a while. She began to shake and back away from him.
“Sorry Deborah, but she say that if I don’ do it, she goin’ whip me. I sorry girl, but I got to obey the mistress. I gine try not to hit you too hard but I don’ know how you does stop a leather whip from stinging.” With that he pulled Deborah through the house to the patio where the mistress was calmly rocking in her chair.
“This has been long in coming,” the mistress said looking up. “You’ve crossed me once too many times. Tie her to the post Jethro and gave her ten lashes.”
Deborah refused to give the mistress the satisfaction of seeing her fear but her legs felt as if they couldn’t hold her up as Jethro reluctantly pulled her into the yard.
“What’s going on, mother?” asked Rachel as she and Mary appeared on the patio.
“Nothing that concerns you. Go back to your rooms until I tell you to come out,” she instructed in a hard tone. Being unaccustomed to their mother speaking so harshly to them, they rushed to obey, lest they risked her wrath.
In the kitchen, Sarah was being restrained by Cassie as she fought to go to help Deborah.
“I can’t let her scar up my child. Oh why the master not here today? He would never let her do this. What to do Cassie? What to do?”
“Go and get Master Richard. He out by the plantain patch. Go quick!” Cassie released her and Sarah ran, knowing that she was racing against time.
Deborah was pulled over to the whipping post by a reluctant Jethro and on the mistress’ instructions the back of her dress was ripped open, exposing her back and falling away at the front to reveal her naked breasts. Jethro loosely tied her hands to the post, averting his eyes, all the while saying he was sorry that he had to do it or else the mistress would do the same to him.
There were very few slaves around, apart from the house slaves, to see her shame and for this she was glad. Images of whippings she had witnessed tormented her mind. Could she stand the pain without crying out? She did not want to give the mistress the satisfaction. Even as that thought entered her mind it was quickly replaced by fear that made her body tremble against the warmth of the wooden post as Jethro stepped back and raised the whip.
Richard reined in his horse and pulled up under a tree to watch the young slaves pulling weeds from among the plantain trees. Further down he saw some other children weeding the vegetable gardens, laughing as they competed to see who had the biggest pile of weeds. The morning was beginning to heat up and it was looking to be another beautiful, but hot, day in Barbados. He realized with a start that he didn’t even miss Carolina.
A sudden commotion caused his horse to rear up slightly and he looked up to see Sarah rushing towards him like a mad woman with fear in her eyes. His heart missed a beat and he swung down from his horse to meet her, knowing that something terrible must have happened to Deborah.
“Master Richard, Master Richard, come quick, come quick!” she panted. “The mistress making Jethro flog Deborah,” she pulled at his hand in agitation, not realizing what she was doing.
“What? Where is she?”
“The whipping post in front the house.”
Richard jumped on his horse and flew back in the direction that Sarah had come, not waiting to see if she followed. His breath came in quick bursts as he urged the horse to move faster, envisioning Deborah tied to the post. He remembered seeing the drivers urging the slaves to work harder with a lash of the whip and his mind protested at the thought of Deborah being subjected to that pain.
The sound of the leather whistling through the air was the last thing Deborah heard before pain exploded across her back and she couldn’t help the cry that escaped her lips as she felt the searing burn of the whip.
As Richard approached the house, the sight of Deborah, stripped to the waist, with her hands tied to the post and a welt already marring her back, sent a physical pain through him. He caught sight of Jethro’s distraught face as he raised the whip and brought it down again.
Richard cringed as Deborah arched her back and another thick red welt appeared.
Tears involuntarily ran from her eyes and Deborah knew that she could not survive eight more of those strokes without humiliating herself. How she wished she had never worn her own dress. The few hours of pleasure at making her own choice could in no way compensate for the fiery pain in her back. Too late she recognized that her rebellion was wrong and it had done nothing but lead her right into the hands of the mistress.
Where are you God? I confess I was wrong. Will you stand by while I am whipped? She agonized silently. Do you not care about me? The pain of rejection in her heart was almost as intense as the pain in her back.
“Stop!” She heard a shout. “Stop Jethro!” The sound of Richard’s voice penetrated the haze of her pain and she wept in relief. Had her prayer been answered? Was God real? Dare she believe that he cared about her after all?
As Richard jumped from the horse and grabbed Jethro’s hand in mid-air he glimpsed the patent relief on the slave’s face.
Pushing Jethro out of the way he quickly untied the rope that had loosely bound her hand
s and gently turned Deborah who collapsed into his arms with tears streaming down her face. He cursed himself for his weakness but couldn’t help but look at her firm breasts before he pulled up her torn dress to preserve her modesty. Shudders shook her body as she buried her face in his shirt sobbing.
“What do you mean by interfering here, Richard?” his aunt demanded rushing from the patio.
“Uncle Thomas would never condone this, aunt,” he said angrily over Deborah’s head. He couldn’t believe how angry he was with her for punishing Deborah this way. “He told me himself that the house slaves were never to be whipped because they’re too valuable to be scarred.”
“The girl is insolent and deserves to be taught a lesson!”
“I will let you take that up with Uncle Thomas when he comes home but for now I ask that you leave her alone.”
His aunt stalked off without another word and he handed Deborah over to Sarah who had finally made it into the yard, breathing as if her heart would explode.
He strode angrily over to the horse, climbed in the saddle and rode out without a backward glance. He knew that he had probably made an enemy of his aunt and he was angry with her, angry with himself and angry with Deborah for putting him in that position in the first place. He should have known from the time he set eyes on her that the girl would cause him nothing but trouble.
Chapter 13
On reaching their hut, Sarah put Deborah to lie down and picked a piece of aloe which she crushed and smeared gently over the welts on her back.
“Do you believe in God, ma?” Deborah asked thoughtfully as Sarah performed her ministrations.
“You mean that Jethro was telling us about?”
“Yes,” Deborah confirmed.
“I know the children’s tutor used to teach them about this God but my mother used to tell me about Olódùmarè which is the creator that her people believed in and the Orishas which are gods or spirits that are different forms of Olódùmarè. Maybe they are the same. I don’t know. Why you ask me that?”
“I’ve been thinking about him recently so when Jethro was whipping me, I prayed to him and the same time Master Richard came and saved me. I wonder if it was by chance or if he is real and he heard me.”
“I don’t know child. If he real, why he didn’t help you when Master William called you to his room?” Deborah had no response to that but she suddenly remembered William dragging her across the bed and pulling back his hand to deliver a blow to her face which for some reason never came. Did the same God stop him from harming her more? Was he there with her even as William took her innocence? She didn’t know what to think; what to believe. Exhaustion overtook her and she succumbed to sleep without even knowing when it happened.
Sarah was glad when Deborah fell asleep, overcome by the morning’s trauma and tiredness from the party but she knew that when she woke up her back would probably pain her terribly.
She was grateful that Jethro had not put his full strength behind the whip, or it would have been much worse and that Master Richard had not gone to Jamestown with the master and had been near to the yard. Maybe that was God’s doings.
The way that he had jumped on his horse and taken off to stop Jethro from whipping Deborah, made her think that Cassie was right. He seemed to be interested in Deborah, even though he still called for Hattie to come to his room at night. Perhaps the master had told him he couldn’t have Deborah; she hoped so.
She wondered how things would be in the house with the mistress now that Master Richard had stopped Jethro from carrying out her orders. What would the master do? Would he take the mistress’ side? Would he be vexed with her for causing this trouble although he had said that Deborah could wear the dress? She was surprised that the mistress had not ordered her to be whipped too; after all it was she who had disobeyed her in not making Deborah wear the dress.
In spite of everything she couldn’t bring herself to burn the green dress; she had put too much time and love into making it and it was the best dress she had ever made. She would hide it in Deborah’s trunk until she had the opportunity to wear it again someday, hopefully as a free woman.
Someone knocking on the door of the hut roused her from her thoughts and she opened it to find Master Thomas and Master Richard outside.
“Sarah, I just got back to the plantation and Richard told me that he had to stop Deborah from being whipped by Jethro. What happened?” Sarah stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
“It was my fault, Master Thomas. It was about the dress that I asked you if she could wear to the party. The mistress was vexed because Deborah disobeyed her and didn’t wear the one I had made for all the girls so she told Jethro to flog her or he would get flogged himself.”
“Thankfully Sarah found me quickly and I was able to stop him after just two strokes.”
“A good thing Jethro was trying not to hit her too hard so the skin didn’t break but her back has two big welts and it is real sore,” Sarah told them.
Thomas closed his eyes, at the upheaval in his family yet again. It always seemed to involve Deborah is some way. Maybe he should sell her for the sake of peace in his house.
“Can I see her?” Richard asked, looking towards his uncle for permission. He nodded and Sarah stepped aside to let him in.
“She’s in the back room sleeping.”
Richard bent his head to get through the door and glanced around the dim room which was sparsely furnished but well kept and clean. The floor was packed dirt and the walls of the hut were made of wattle and daub with plantain leaves for the roof.
He went through to the back room and saw Deborah lying on a pallet on the floor. Her back was bare and a thin sheet covered her from the waist down. The smooth skin of her back was flawed by two long red welts which were smeared with some sort of slimy substance.
The room’s one small window provided enough light for him to see a similar pallet on the floor next to Deborah’s, a trunk and an old chest of drawers with a basin and a jug on it. There were few personal items in sight; just a comb and a brush on the trunk.
This was where Deborah and Sarah lived? He was shocked at the primitive accommodations that his uncle’s favorite slaves lived in. Had his uncle ever been in here? He thought of William’s soft bed that he slept in every night and the ornate furnishings in the house and he felt a tug of conscience at how he took them for granted while Deborah lived like… a slave. That was what she was. Why did he seem to have trouble remembering that?
Looking down at her he could make out the swell of her breast as she slept on her stomach with her head cushioned on her arms and he was surprised to find that it was not only desire that stirred in him but an overwhelming feeling of compassion. He sent up a brief prayer of thanks that he had been able to save her from a worse beating and bent to stroke her hair gently before turning to leave the room.
“How is she?” His uncle asked as he rejoined him.
“She’s still sleeping but I’m sure her back is going to be very sore and stiff when she wakes up.”
“OK Sarah, you can go,” Thomas dismissed her.
Richard hesitated, not sure how to broach the subject of the living conditions of the two women as they walked towards the house.
“I’m surprised the house slaves don’t sleep in the house. What is to there to prevent Sarah or Deborah from being violated in their hut by one of the overseers or the other slaves?”
“Only the threat of a flogging for the offender, I suppose. But you’re right. They should probably be in the house for protection and that way they would be close by in case they’re needed during the night or something. Sarah and Deborah used to live in the house when she looked after the children. I don’t even recall when they moved out. I will talk to Elizabeth about finding somewhere for them, although after today that may not be a very popular decision.”
“Speaking about lack of popularity, I’m sure that I won’t be popular with my aunt for intervening today. I told her that you didn�
�t want the house slaves scarred since it would diminish their value.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll deal with her.”
Thinking it best to avoid his aunt for the time being, Richard headed for the kitchen, to the accompaniment of his growling stomach to ask the cook to pack something to take with him to eat while his uncle went in search of his aunt. He was warmly greeted by the cook who was more than happy to pack a good sized lunch for the man who had rescued Deborah.
Meanwhile Thomas, not being one to put off unpleasant tasks, headed for his wife’s room where she was resting after lunch. He knocked on the door and was invited to come in.
Elizabeth was propped up in bed reading a book. Thomas noted the lavish four poster bed with several fluffy pillows at her back and a beautiful white quilt lying across the foot of the bed. A mahogany chest of drawers stood to one side with gilded brushes and combs, jewelry boxes and all kinds of bottles and jars. A lady’s writing desk, with a carved chair was strategically located in front of a window to catch the light.
Thomas realized with a start that he had not been to Elizabeth’s room in ages. In fact he found it impossible to remember when they had last been intimate. Not for many years, to be sure. An unfamiliar feeling that felt almost like shame came upon him but he told himself that she was probably glad not to have to fulfill her marital duties.
A look of surprise crossed her face as she saw that it was him but she quickly schooled her face and presented him with a slightly inquiring stare.
“Good day, Elizabeth,” Thomas began. “I hope you do not blame Richard for interfering today. He and I had a discussion not too long ago and I told him that the house slaves were never to be whipped because any scars on them would diminish their value. That is why he stopped Jethro from carrying out your orders.”
