by Every, Donna
“I have invested a lot of money to ensure that you have all the help you need in the house and I’m sure you can appreciate that in the event that I were to sell any of them, I don’t want to lose any money on my investment. In fact the house slaves should be living in the house so I need you to find somewhere to put them. And that includes Deborah and Sarah. I recall that they used to live in the house when Sarah looked after the children. When did they move out?”
“I moved them out when we no longer needed a nanny. They certainly didn’t need to be in the house anymore. They have been nothing but trouble to me and now you want them to live in the house again? Because of that slave, you no longer visit me as a husband. Because of her daughter I have not seen my son in nearly two years and now my nephew seems to be bewitched by her as well. I have had enough Thomas! I want them sold!”
Thomas felt the beginning of a headache. It was not as if he did not have enough to deal with concerning the plantation but now he had Elizabeth’s relentless nagging. His only solace was in bringing Sarah to his bed some nights and Elizabeth was insisting that he get rid of her? Was the woman trying to totally destroy his peace?
“You will do as I say and find somewhere to accommodate them. I will give some thought to your concerns. In the mean time, let there be no more incidents of whipping.” She gave a brief nod; satisfied that he had at least not refused to consider her request.
“Deborah will be indisposed for a day or two while her back heals.” He searched her face for any sign of remorse and was not really surprised to see none. “I will see you at dinner.” With that he left the room.
Deborah woke up as the evening sun forced its way into the hut through the small window and streamed across her face. She tried to turn onto her side and the sudden pain and stiffness in her back arrested her movement. For a moment she was confused at the discomfort and then the memories of the day came back to her.
The whipping, as much as the abuse she had suffered at William’s hands, cruelly reminded her that she was a chattel with no control over her body or her life and that her fate was in the hands of the master and mistress who could do whatever they wanted to her. Heaviness settled over her like a thick blanket, wrapping her in a cocoon of depression that left her sapped of energy.
Reluctantly rousing herself, she wondered how she would be able to put on a dress and go in to help prepare dinner. Unsure of how to get up without causing further pain to her back she lay on her side for a few minutes and remembered the relief she had felt when she heard Richard’s voice shouting at Jethro.
The gentleness with which he had untied the ropes that bound her and held her to his chest while she wept softened a part of her heart, even as she blushed in shame that he had seen her nakedness and her humiliation.
She should have thanked him for saving her from the beating but she was too overcome at the time and besides he had seemed angry when he rode off, as if she had done something to upset him. It was probably because of the friction she had caused between him and his aunt.
She heard her mother in the front room and was glad that she would be able to help her get up.
“Deborah, you awake yet?” she called.
“Yes, but I don’t know how to get up.” Sarah came into the back room.
“The master just told me that you’re to have a day or two to recover so you don’t have to help with dinner.”
Tears of gratitude sprang into Deborah’s eyes. “I don’t know why I’m crying all the time but you don’t know how glad I am to hear that. I was just trying to figure out how I would put on a dress to go and help.”
“When the master calls me again I am going to ask him about freeing us, especially after what happened today.”
“I should thank Master Richard for stopping Jethro.”
“Yes. He came to see how you were earlier when you were sleeping.”
“You let him in?” Deborah exclaimed. “With me half naked?”
“It wasn’t anything he didn’t see today already,” Sarah reminded her. “And anyhow, the master said yes, so what was I to do? Anyway he looked worried about you. Cassie like she was right when she said that he interested in you.”
“He’s not interested in me; he’s only interested in my body. He stopped me in the hallway at the party and told me to come to his room afterwards,” she admitted in disgust. She didn’t tell her mother that he had kissed her neck or that his kiss had made her shiver.
“Oh loss! What you told him?”
“That I was indisposed. He wasn’t too happy about that.” She laughed as she remembered his reaction.
“This is nothing to laugh at, girl. You can’t use that excuse forever. I goin’ have to try and talk to the master about him.”
Deborah didn’t reply. For some reason, she didn’t feel afraid of Richard’s interest in her anymore.
Chapter 14
Dinner was a somewhat strained affair. Although his aunt greeted him civilly and even apologized for the misunderstanding of the day, she was still rather cool towards him.
The slaves were also particularly careful, as if they were afraid of drawing his aunt’s attention and finding themselves at the end of a whip. Nevertheless, he felt sure that the meal was more salty than usual and the Beveridge that he normally enjoyed was more watery than he was accustomed to. His aunt said nothing but he noticed that her face tightened when she tasted the food and drink. It was the slaves’ silent protest of the events of the day.
“We’re going to have a few changes in the household,” announced Thomas. “I’ve decided to move the house slaves, with the exception of Jethro, into the house. That will make them more accessible if they are needed during the night and if we have bad weather. Room will have to be found for them downstairs.”
“That’s a good idea father,” said Rachel. “When Richard was ill I had to run all the way to Deborah’s hut to find her and Jethro.”
“Yes, well Jethro will have to remain in his quarters.”
“I think this is a good move as well, uncle. Living indoors will probably also ensure better health for them since they won’t be living in damp conditions which I’m sure they must be in the rainy season.” His uncle nodded.
Richard was pleased with his uncle’s willingness to listen to his suggestion and act on it. He only wished that his father was as open, then they wouldn’t be butting heads in the business all the time.
“Richard, are you up to joining in the harvesting tomorrow?” His uncle asked.
“Certainly,” he answered.
“You obviously don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” warned his aunt and he was glad that she seemed warmer towards him, otherwise his visit would be very strained. “Make sure you wear long sleeves and a pair of long pants. I’ll order a bath for you afterwards. You’re going to need it.”
“Thank you Aunt Elizabeth, I certainly appreciate that.”
Richard slept badly that night. His dreams were filled with scenes of Deborah, tied to the whipping post with Jethro wielding the whip again and again and he couldn't get to her. Images of her back streaming with blood and her voice calling his name tormented him and caused him to jump up with a start.
When he had ridden into the yard that evening, she had been waiting for him near the stables, wearing a loose shirt over a dull brown skirt which revealed her bare feet. Her long hair was plaited and hung over one shoulder giving her a youthful look in spite of her ordeal and making Richard feel ancient in comparison.
As he dismounted and handed the reins to the stable boy, he noted that Deborah was avoiding eye contact with him.
“I just wanted to thank you for rescuing me today,” she had said humbly keeping her eyes lowered. With sudden insight he realized that she was ashamed that he had seen her in her weakness and humiliation. It was so unlike Deborah that for a moment he could not think how to respond.
Then it came to him and he had told her with all the seriousness that he could muster, that she was now i
ndebted to him and he would be calling on her to collect his payment soon. When she drew in an angry breath and stalked off, muttering that she should have known better, he smiled at her retreating back.
Just to make sure that she was truly herself again, he shouted to let him know when she was no longer indisposed and would be available to come to his room. She had turned around to glare at him and say: “You may have rescued me, but you do not own me,” before storming off in the direction of her hut.
He smiled as the image filled his mind again. She would make the rest of his stay in Barbados very interesting. He couldn’t believe that a month had gone already. That only gave him two months before he had to go back to Carolina. He wondered why he lacked excitement at the thought.
Throwing off the sheet he got out of the warm, comfortable bed which made him remember the thin pallet that Deborah slept on. He was glad that his uncle was dealing with her accommodations and then wondered why it mattered to him. Maybe he selfishly wanted to have her close at hand; not that she would willingly come to his room. Yet.
He washed quickly with the warm water then had been left while he was still asleep and dressed in a long-sleeved cotton shirt and loose pants that would keep him cool while protecting him from the cane leaves. Pulling on boots and picking up his hat he headed out the door to join his uncle for breakfast before they went out to the fields that were being harvested. He had planned to try his hand at cutting canes today and his uncle had said that he would show him how the cane was processed afterwards.
He had read about the processing in Richard Ligon’s book and it seemed very complicated to him. He was looking forward to seeing how it all worked and how the slaves were used to carry out different functions, especially the boilers who were so valuable because of the work they did. If they could be trained to carry out functions that were highly critical to the successful processing of the sugar, then surely the ones he bought would be highly efficient in the farming of rice.
The thought of Ann flitted in and out of his mind and he found that as he strained to recall her features, all he could think of was olive skin, green eyes and long wavy brown hair. The woman had indeed bewitched him and there was only one way he knew to get a woman out of your system. He would work on that soon.
Richard was no stranger to hard work but he soon realized that cutting canes was in a category by itself. One of the overseers gave him a broad curved machete and told him to cut the cane stalk as close as possible to the root since most of the sugar was concentrated in that part of the cane and they also needed a good length to feed through the mill.
Although cane was part of the grass family, Richard could find nothing soft about it as he wielded his machete. The pith which contained the juice was encased in a thick woody rind that was resistant to the machete and required a good deal of strength to cut through it. He soon learned that it was easier to cut the stem at a joint than directly through the rind. Since the leaves were not allowed to go through the rollers he then had to strip them off the stem with strokes of his machete while holding the cane in one hand.
By the time he had a fairly substantial pile of canes to show for his efforts, his hands were raw, and his arms and back were stiff. He was pitifully glad when the overseer instructed one of the slaves to load his pile onto the cart, leaving him free to join his uncle, because he didn’t think he had the strength to load them himself.
"How was it Richard?" His uncle asked knowingly.
"This is the most back breaking work I've ever done and I often work alongside the crew on our ships.”
"Harvesting canes is not easy and processing is even harder. We'll go and see the grinding and boiling after lunch. You better ask Deborah for something to put on your hands when you go in for lunch."
"I'm sure she would offer pepper instead of a balm," laughed Richard tiredly.
"What have you done to upset her?" His uncle asked expectantly.
"I told her that she owed me for rescuing her and that I would collect soon. I couldn’t resist teasing her," he admitted, drawing a laugh from Thomas.
"I'm sure that riled her up."
"It did what it was supposed to do, give her back some spirit. I was afraid that the whipping had broken her."
"Slaves are supposed to be broken, Richard, but I know what you mean. Deborah has spirit.” He sighed. “Your aunt wants me to sell her and Sarah."
"And will you?"
"I will not let Elizabeth dictate to me what to do although I’m sure there would be more peace in my house if I sold them. But I'm not ready to give up Sarah yet. "
"If you decide to sell Deborah you know that I want to buy her."
"You would take her back to Carolina with you? I don't think your fiancée would be too happy with that."
"You're right. I must confess that I have almost forgotten that I am betrothed."
"Beautiful slave girls will do that to your memory," his uncle laughed as they went to clean up for lunch.
Richard watched as the canes were removed from carts and loaded into troughs where the dirt was washed off them.
From there his uncle led him to the mill house where the canes were fed through vertical rollers, made of wood but covered with metal, to extract the juice. He had seen the windmill that was used to generate the power to turn the rollers on his first tour of the plantation and had heard that this was the best season for harvesting because of the high winds and low rainfall which were characteristic of this time of year.
“Why is that slave standing around with a machete doing nothing?” Richard inquired.
“His job is to cut off the limb of anyone who gets caught in the machine.” Richard searched his uncle’s face for signs of joking but found none and realized that he was deadly serious.
He observed the greenish liquid that was extracted from the canes as they were ground in the mill which was then run in cisterns under the ground to the nearby boiling house for the next part of the process.
The heat that met them at the door of the boiling house almost made him stagger back. The place must be as close to hell as you could get on earth, Richard decided after a minute. About five huge copper kettles of decreasing size were being heated over a common furnace which accounted for the stifling heat. Richard did not know how the slaves could stay in here for hours keeping the furnace burning since it could not be allowed to go out or the sugar would be ruined.
The juice discharged into the largest kettle where a boiler stood by with a long ladle to skim impurities off the top before transferring the liquid to the next kettle. As each kettle got smaller, the heat in it intensified making the liquid thicken and turn dark brown. It was the job of the boilers to know when it was time to transfer the liquid into the next kettle. Richard could now understand why they were so valuable.
"What is that they're putting into the mixture?" Richard asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.
"It's quicklime. It helps the liquid to form grains. After that the mixture, which is sugar and molasses, is put into a cooling cistern. We then have to drain off the molasses to get the sugar so it's put into clay pots in the cooling room and drained for about three weeks. The sugar has to be spread out in the sun to dry before it is packed into bags and sent to Town. I use the molasses to make rum in the distillery.”
“This is quite an investment in machinery," Richard noted looking around.
His uncle nodded. "That's why only the biggest plantations can do the processing. It is definitely a significant investment. Seen enough?"
Richard nodded and they were almost at the door when a slave came running from the mill house.
"Master Thomas, Master Thomas come quick! Jacko hand get catch in the rollers and Sambo had to cut it off."
"Oh, God!" Thomas took off running. "Send one of the stable boys for the doctor in Jamestown."
Richard followed him, unsure of what he would find. There was chaos in the room, with all the slaves recounting to his uncle what had hap
pened at once. Fortunately Jacko had passed out from the shock and someone had wrapped his hand, or the stump, in a dirty looking sack. It appeared that his hand had only been cut off at the wrist, thanks to the quick action of Sambo. Blood was all over the floor and more seeped through the sack.
"Get him to his hut and clean up this blood," instructed Thomas. "Throw out that batch of juice. What a waste of good cane juice.”
"Does this happen often?" Richard asked shaken, as they walked into the yard, taking several deep breaths.
"Not very, thankfully. But that's why we have Sambo standing by. At least he only lost the hand and not the whole arm but what’s the use of a slave with one hand? I’ll have to decide what to do with him when he recovers."
"I had no idea that cultivating sugar was this hard."
"Make no mistake, it is a very rewarding business but it is one of the hardest ways to make money. There are a lot of problems to deal with: pests, weeds, diseases, fires and now we have, added to those, competition from Jamaica. Because of its size it can produce sugar in volumes that we can’t and the soil there is virgin whereas our soil is wearing out and we have to constantly manure it to put back in the nutrients.”
Business was a constant challenge, especially starting something new like rice cultivation. Richard knew that not only would he have to invest significantly to drain the land so that rice could be planted and to buy slaves to cultivate it but there was no guarantee that it would pay off. Anything could happen to the slaves, like the accident today or they could succumb to diseases and die. Then again business was always a risk, so he had to be certain that this was in fact the course he wanted to take. After all he was giving up his own freedom to pursue it.
Chapter 15
