Journey into the Deep

by Guy S. Stanton III

  “How did you manage such a thing? It is an impossible journey to get to this place!” He exclaimed.

  “And yet you yourselves arrived here at one point in time.” I responded succinctly.

  He nodded, “This is true. Tell me why have you come?” He asked subtly.

  The truth was always the best answer, but in this case I just wasn’t going to tell him all of it.

  “I’m a treasure hunter. No offense meant, but I was hoping to find a sunken Southern fleet with quite a few boxes of gold lying around for the grabbing.”

  The man tipped his head back and laughed. After a moment he sobered up and said, “What a disappointment on your part this must be then. Perhaps we can find something of value laying around to make your journey still a profitable one. It would be a tragedy on your part to have to come so far and have nothing to return with to show for all your troubles. I do assume that you can return to the world above if you should wish to?” The man asked craftily.

  I smiled and my fear was that the fakeness of my smile would shine through as I responded with, “That’s the plan.”

  I didn’t care for the man and I wasn’t about to reveal more to him of our purpose for being here then needed to be said.

  His smile in response smacked of equal insincerity and it seemed that we both had come to a mutual agreement to keep our true intentions a secret from the other.

  “The Governor wants to meet the first ever recorded visitors to our inner realm.” He infused gregariously.

  “Lead on.” I said in response.

  He started away from the dock and the crowd parted. I started after him. I glanced back to see Christina quickly step in behind me and Matt as Jim brought up the rear of our little group.

  I looked beyond Jim to where Flynn sat cross legged on the deck of the ship staring down the hard eyed stares of the black overseers glaring at him from the dock. Flynn was not a man easily rattled and the shotgun cradled across his lap bore testament to his ability to back his own play should he need to. My concern for my boat was nonexistent with him on guard.

  There is a loyalty that runs deeper than skin color or even the blood of a brother. It’s called a friend and I was waking up to the fact that I had more friends than I had realized.

  It was a good thing to know, but it was a bad thing to know how much danger I’d put us all in.

  “Fascinating!”

  I turned my attention back to Matt beside me who went on, “It’s like we stepped into a time capsule!” He said as he glanced all around.

  I couldn’t but help agree with him, but I didn’t feel so much wonder at the sight of a bygone era in working order around us. The sight of a white man’s scarred back, who was working a rudimentary water pump helped take any wonder there was at finding this community still rooted in the past away from me.

  Matt saw the man’s back and visibly winced. Some of the wonder left his eyes and he glanced around with a new perspective.

  “Not a very pretty sight is it?” I said.

  Matt glanced at me, “No, it’s not.”

  We continued to follow our self-imposed guide up the dusty lane as it picked up in elevation. In the distance I saw mansions arrayed against the hillside in the shadow of the dormant volcano that rose up massively beyond.

  Matt spoke, “you haven’t said what you think of all this Eli. I’m curious.”

  Off to our right I saw a slave girl shoved hard against an old-fashioned butter churn that she had momentarily stopped operating in order to watch us go by.

  “Do you mean do I feel that the role reversal taking place around us is justified?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “No, I do not.”

  It was a small statement to express how not okay I was with all this. No one deserved forced servant hood like this. What I couldn’t figure out was why there was the need for slaves at all?

  Matt kept his voice low as to not be overheard, “The South attempted to biblically justify their enslavement of the black man. Did you know that Eli?”

  “No I did not, but it doesn’t surprise me. I’m curious though, how did they go about that Matt?”

  “They believed that black people were descended from Noah’s son Ham and they went off that line about where because of him seeing his father’s nakedness he was relegated to serve his brothers.”

  “You’re serious? They got ripping apart people’s lives and using them for their own gain out of that line of the Bible!” I exclaimed under my breath.

  “Yep. Ridiculously out of context isn’t it. They also used the example of the children of Israel having slaves to justify their practices, but there’s no resemblance. Israel’s so-called slavery was basically indentured servant hood. If a slave was mistreated he was to be set free by Jewish law. If he was killed by his owner his owner’s life was forfeit in turn. All slaves were also to be let loose every seven years and their lands restored to them. So you can see there really is no comparison between the old South and the biblical Israel.”

  “And yet I wonder how these black masters have justified their role as the lords of this place?” I said reflectively and Matt nodded in agreement.

  There likely was some half-baked justification for the continued use of slavery, but it likely didn’t make any sense just as the first round of excuses hadn’t in the old South.

  Matt and I saw a group of slave women washing clothes off to the side of the trail and Matt reacted with surprise. Two of the five women were as black as I was and one was of a soft chocolate color in terms of skin color, while the remaining two were white.

  I already knew the answer to his unasked question, “In the South if it was believed that a person had so much as a drop of Negro blood in their ancestry then they were considered black no matter how white they may have appeared. They were thrown in right along with all the other slaves. It would appear even that aspect of the old South has been copied over.”

  The mansions were growing closer and all signs of slave housing were falling away behind us.

  “Because of your ancestry did you ever feel like you were entitled to some version of justice or payment to make up for what was done to your ancestors who were slaves?” Matt asked softly.

  “Never!” I said roughly.

  “I make my own decisions and walk my own path. I want no part of entitlement and I have no use for those who think they’re owed something. You need to stand on your own two feet in life and earn your own way. My girls were perfect, but to these people they’d be nothing better than slaves. In the old South they would have been slaves even though Lacey was as white as your sister!”

  Matt squeezed my arm and I glanced at him and saw understanding in his eyes as he said, “Your girls were perfect Eli and so was my sister!”

  I nodded not trusting myself to speak for a moment.

  “Yes she was!” I said finally.

  I looked around, “She was not a slave and neither am I. No one should be!” I said my voice trailing off with the disdain that I felt for everything around me that had been built upon the affliction of people, who were looked down upon as less by others.

  “Amen.” Matt said.

  It was a town of mansions and the question as to the need for slavery was soon answered. Nobody with a skin color matching my own was doing anything or should I say they weren’t doing anything that could be called work. This too must’ve been how the old South had functioned.

  It was pathetic whichever color side you picked. How was I going to put a stop to this?

  I was just one man with a small crew.

  Every Old Testament Bible story pertinent to such a thought of inadequacy came up to remind me that it wasn’t going to be me doing anything in order to break the cycle of bondage, but rather it would be God and I was just a willing instrument to be used as part of the process.

  One mansion stood out from the rest and it was to this we were led followed along by our ever present gawking crowd of onlookers. I started up the stair
s taking in the women arrayed along the railing up ahead of me decked out in the fine trappings of southern belles, only these southern belles weren’t white.

  They whispered feverishly among themselves and some even giggled behind their lace embroidered fans. I felt myself the subject of intense scrutiny and a lot of admiring interest.

  I wasn’t interested, but I had manners when I wanted them and I bowed slightly in passing before I was ushered into the expansive mansion decked out in opulence.

  There were more important looking men of this little colony on the underside of the world inside. Questions were abuzz as they flew about the expansive foyer in hushed masculine undertones. Our guide cleared a way through the crowd before coming to a stop before a wide spiral staircase.

  He turned to me and pointedly addressed me only, “If you would come with me, while your crew waits here.” He said smoothly, but I read between the lines.

  He might as well as said, “While your low class slaves wait here for you.”

  I was about to object, when I caught Matt’s slight negative shake of the head. He was right. Best to fly low for the moment. I started for the stairs alone.

  “And leave your weapon behind as well.” The guide said in an ingratiating manner.

  I found the man contemptible, but I stuck to the plan. Deliberately I turned and handed my pistol to Matt, whose eyes twinkled with repressed glee.

  Symbolically I was handing my weapon to a slave in the eyes of all those around me, which gained us an aggravated murmur of dissension from them. I turned back to the guide to see his fake smile had hardened at the edges.

  I smiled coldly at him and gestured to the stairs beyond him, “Shall we?” I invited and stiffly he turned and started climbing even as I took inventory of where I had knives stashed on my person should the occasion arise that I might need to use them. I also had a boot pistol.

  When I reached the lofty second-floor I glanced back to see my little multicolored crew surrounded by a crowd of disapproving and even menacing black people. I’d never been so disappointed in a group of people my own color before as I was now.

  To think such an inconsequential thing as skin pigmentation and differing ethnic backgrounds could divide humanity so!

  Would there ever be a day when unity would be achieved or would there always be this infighting and innate hatred of differing physiological differences?

  For some perhaps, but not for me. Not for people like Matt or Jim either, but they were exceptions to the norm.

  Some people just had to hate each other and skin color was a good excuse to start the rivalry.

  My guide opened a door and I stepped through it. Everything was beyond compare in terms of color and artistry within the room. The tiled floors of the room were so clean I wouldn’t have given a second thought about eating a meal off of them.

  I was led through a series of rooms until I stepped out onto a veranda that had an ocean view. Traveling along the white railing I came to a table with two chairs. One was occupied by an older man, who rose stiffly as we drew near.

  He extended out his hand in the most genuine act of welcome that I had experienced yet and I took it and shook the old man’s hand that had a surprisingly firm grasp to it.

  “Winston Riley at your service, and who might I have the pleasure of speaking to?” The old man asked.

  “Eli Warner.” I responded in kind.

  He gestured to the second chair and said, “Won’t you have a seat and enjoy my ocean view?”

  I sat down as I continued to study the older man. He seemed like a genuine individual, even a likable sort.

  The governor, for that was who I took him to be, turned slightly to the guide and said dismissively, “You won’t be needed any longer Morgan.”

  Morgan looked hesitant to leave, until the old man gave him a sharp glance that had some steel in it. Morgan hastily left and the governor sat back down in his seat.

  He glanced after Morgan’s retreating form for a moment before switching his gaze to mine and asking, “Tell me stranger does that man annoy you half as much as he does me with his presence?”

  I couldn’t help it. I genuinely liked this man and I let it show in the smile that creeped out in response to his question.

  He smiled in return, “I see I have my answer.”

  He glanced out at the sea and asked as a slave girl approached out of seemingly nowhere with a tray of drinks on it, “Well, you’ve been here all of about an hour now, what do you think of our colony beneath the world above?”

  I glanced up at the slave girl dressed in the garb of a housemaid. She was very attractive and very much black. She again must be one of the unpure ones that had some white blood in her.

  She didn’t meet my gaze, but instead she stuck very well to the servile nature of her task and position in life, even though I sensed it was not in her nature to be so.

  I answered the governor’s question as I watched her walk away as silently as she had come, “Not very highly I assure you.” I said in complete honesty, as my eyes left the girl to meet the governor’s.

  He nodded and glanced back out to sea before asking, “Tell me what happened up there in the world above. Are black men still slaves?”

  “The North won, if that’s what you mean. The South was dealt with harshly and slavery is no more in the sense that it was. The country is united and while there’s still tension over color, time to time, for the most part it gets settled and the different sides get along and even intermix with each other. You could benefit from that lesson down here.” I finished bluntly.

  He regarded me indepthly for a long moment, “You don’t pull your punches do you.” He said smiling a little.

  “No, I don’t. I was never very good at lying or stomaching injustice when I’ve seen it.”

  The Governor nodded, as the girl came back with a tray of food and set it down. There was something about her face. What was it?

  “Thank you Mandy.” The governor said and the girl nodded before leaving again.

  My eyes met the old man’s and his face took on a somber look as he said, “She’s my granddaughter.”

  His granddaughter!

  He looked away at the sea again as he explained, “My son raped a slave woman. I don’t hold with such practices, but many do it. I am but a voice in the wind against such occurrences, however regrettable they may be.”

  He looked back to me and said matter-of-factly, “Everything I just said sounds terrible doesn’t it?”

  “You know it does!” I said with emphasis.

  He nodded, “I fear we’ve become even more barbaric than our former masters. Just as I fear that is the case I also fear that there is no changing it. It’s true what I said about being a voice in the wind.”

  “That is still not an excuse to do nothing, when you know what’s right.”

  He nodded his head and looked out to sea again, “I knew this day of change was coming. Whether it will be a good one or not I cannot tell.”

  “What happened here?” I asked, as I was curious to know.

  The Governor launched directly into the tale of this colonies origin, “The Southern fleet sailed guided by some device for many days and then as the account goes the fleet fell down through the world to land here in this inner sanctum. By all accounts it was a harrowing experience. Several ships were lost, but the bulk of the fleet remained intact. The navigation guide brought them here, which is where they commenced to build their utopia away from the threat of Yankee aggression. Twenty years went past and a sickness befell the white people. Almost all of them were laid low with it, which is when our slave ancestors took control as we were not affected by the illness. Many of the whites were brutally murdered. About a third of them managed to flee. The remaining ones were made over into our slaves as we took the position of master that they had lorded over us. That was fitting justice, but my granddaughter? Where is there any justice for her powerlessness over her own fate that she did nothing to deserve?” />
  He was silent for a moment and I said as if he didn’t already know it, “There isn’t any.”

  He glanced up at me knowingly, “You didn’t come for any treasure of the South or for the ancient antiquity of this island did you? You came to free the slaves didn’t you?”

  I wanted to refrain from it, but the truth came out anyway, “Yes.” I said.

  I expected him to call out for the guards then, but all he did was nod again.

  “What can I do to aid you in your efforts?” He said and I blinked in response.

  “Are you suggesting that you’re willing to betray your own people?” I asked incredulously.

  He shook his head no, “My people have betrayed themselves. What’s the worst that can come to them of this other than they’ll have to learn how to work for themselves again.”

  I gazed at him doubtfully, “Okay, say you’re on the level about this. Do you really think your people are going to give up their slaves anymore than what the South was willing to do? They fought a civil war in which over six hundred thousand soldiers died about just this very thing.”

  He didn’t look put down by my skepticism, but instead replied with, “No, they will not give up their slaves and live in equality with them. They are too well ingrained in their leisure lifestyles just as the old South was. No, you will have to help the slaves escape.” He finished with matter-of-factly.

  I wasn’t sure what kind of a miracle worker he thought I was, but I think he was overestimating my abilities

  “Escape to where?” I asked.

  “The surface is not an option left open to you?” He asked inquiringly.

  “No, I’m pretty sure it was a one-way trip here.”

  “Oh well then it will have to be a harder road to freedom. Better a hard won freedom though than a life spent in oppression.”

  “Care to explain what freedom you’re speaking of?” I asked, as some part of me still couldn’t believe I was having this conversation with the Governor of the island no less. Strange were the ways of God, but magnificent too.

  “Why, to the sea of course, to join the Whale People.”

  “The Whale People?” I asked leadingly.

  “Yes, it is what we call the group of whites that managed to escape to the sea during the great slaughter and flee in the ships that brought us here. I doubt they would have survived at first if it had not been for the whales that help them, hence why we call them the Whale People. It’s the desire of every slave to escape to the sea and join them. Hence it is also the cause of the only real work that my people do, which is done in order to keep their slaves so they don’t have to do the rest of the work. My people have built a navy, whose sole purpose is to kill whales and any whale people they may find and thus extinguish the hopes of the slaves of ever escaping their lot in life as a slave. Rather reminiscent of how runaway slaves were hunted down and tortured in the old South isn’t it?” He finished somewhat sardonically.