Tangled Passion

by Stanley Ejingiri

  Tangled Passion

  Stanley

  Ejingiri

  Win a Caribbean Cruise for 2

  As a way to show his appreciation Stanley Ejingiri and his Management Team have decided to give away a cruise to the scene of the story in the gorgeous West Indian Island of Dominica. Whoever wins the draw will get the opportunity to visit the island and the breathtaking locations mentioned in the book.

  How it works

  After you purchase the book

  Go to the website tangled-passion.com

  Complete the form and submit your information.

  You will be informed when the draw takes place

  The winner will be notified that s/he is a winner and informed of the day of the cruise departure

  Meet the author on the cruise and get your copy of the book signed

  The access code is: 45356-76846

  For terms and conditions of this promotion, please visit the website tangled-passion.com.

  We wish you all the luck and hope to meet you on the ship.

  Stanley Ejingiri Management Team

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2013 by Stanley Ejingiri

  Cover/Book design by Janwillem Wiefkers

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Stanley Ejingiri

  www.stanleyejingiri.com

  www.tangled-passion.com

  First Printing: Apr 2013

  ISBN 978-0-9889061-9-8 (Print version)

  Acknowledgments

  ...

  As Tom Clancey says, “The name on a book’s cover rarely tells the whole story of its birth.” I would like to thank the following people for their contributions.

  ...

  JanWillem Wiefkers, I thank you with all my heart for believing, for your continued support and dedication and for moving the mountains that scared the crap out of me.

  ...

  Min Jeong Kim, I can't thank you enough for the sacrifices you made to keep me focused on my writing… Gomawa.

  ...

  Theodore Brinette, thank you for your words of encouragement which made me believe and for investing so much time on research.

  ...

  Gloria Lavenberg, thank you for your “beautiful” contribution.

  ...

  Lovepreet, I thank you my dear friend for coming up with such a great title.

  ...

  Chapter One

  A

  s mother nature gently folded the flower petals and summoned the sun to retreat, the sound of the devil’s dog hacking through the air at a speed that betrayed its level of anger and determination, slammed the ears of the slaves.

  Eyes quickly squinched shut, eyelashes locked, and back muscles tightened in fearful anticipation; the devil’s dog was about to descend on one of them. Although none of the slaves knew which one of them was going to be its victim this time around, they had no doubt that it was on its way and that it was better to be prepared. Eyes began to tear, fingers quickly crossed, and hurried prayers escaped trembling lips as the hollow, dry sound grew nearer and louder and then it happened.

  “Thwad!”

  The devil’s dog collided mercilessly against its target, crashing with all its weight and anger into the sweaty bare back of one of the slaves. Splatters of blood dashed wildly into the air at the same time as a sharp, long, and pain-pregnant cry escaped the mouth of Jonah.

  “Hmm!” Slaves nearby could hear Jonah painfully exhale; the sound seemed to come from somewhere deep down the belly of his soul, rushing out through his clenched teeth, his nostrils and the pores of his skin. They knew how his back felt—as if a thousand, crimson-hot coals from hell had been heaped on it, all at once.

  “Hmm,” Jonah exhaled the second time, a burst of hot misty exhalation escaping his nostrils as he fought to subdue the pain. He was determined not to give the beast the pleasure of seeing him shed a tear but very quickly, the same pain he tried to suppress spread through his body like a thousand red ants and not long after, his eyes saw a wall of darkness and his knees buckled.

  Michael’s hairy hand jerked and swung viciously backward again, sending the cowhide whip wheezing angrily as it slit through the air. When it returned and hit the now blood-muddy surface that used to be Jonah’s back for the fourth time, Jonah’s eyes flew open and his ears got greeted by the unmistakable roaring voice of Michael—The Devil;

  “Mooove, boy!” Michael bellowed.

  Jonah could hardly understand a single word that flamed out of Michael’s mouth; he was barely hanging onto consciousness. He could see Michael’s lips move rapidly and randomly but even that vision was too blurred to be read; his right eye was bloodshot and his left eye was only half open.

  “I said move!” Michael ordered through gritted teeth, as he towered over Jonah with legs spread wide apart. Jonah struggled to gather his trembling and objecting body parts; getting on his knees and palms first and then hoisting himself to his feet, his legs wobbling madly. When he’d managed a fairly stable balance on his feet, his half-open eye shot in the direction where he’d last seen her. Ashana was still standing in the same spot–she was the only slave still standing, her whole body shaking as tears ran down her cheeks to join the river of perspiration on her face and barely-covered chest.

  “Get down Ashana...please!” Jonah screamed at the top of his voice but the words barely made it out of his lungs, coming out in the form of a whisper—a whisper that was barely audible to his very own, nearby ears.

  The devil’s dog cracked again and Jonah’s back went ablaze with a stinging pain that spread very quickly across his body. His legs gave up and immediately gave way and his body fell with a thud that shook the ground like a mini tremor. When his left eye slightly cracked open, a blurry vision of Michael-the devil marching towards Ashana caused Jonah’s heart to convulse and then stop.

  Back at the Fort, rumor had it that the Slave Master's wife and son were on their way to visit from their faraway country across the Seas and Oceans. For this reason, Massa Longstands had instructed that everything be spick and span; thoroughly cleaned for the arrival of his family in two days.

  Two new pit latrines had to be dug; one for the Master's wife and the other for their son. Every hole in the walls of the master’s quarters had to be patched and every grass in the wrong place uprooted. The trees that lined the walkway into the Fort were to be properly pruned and none was to stand an inch taller than another.

  The female slaves busied themselves with the cleaning tasks at the Master’s quarters while the male slaves handled the heavier tasks. For two days they all labored to cross tasks off of a long list given to them by Massa Longstands.

  It was just at the crack of dawn; the sun was still warming the skies and none of its rays had begun the long travel to earth when continual banging on the door of Jonah’s hut interrupted the sleep of the occupants. The banging was a familiar sound all right but one they hadn’t heard in a long while–it was coming from Edward’s walking stick. “Thud…thud… thud,” the rap came the second time, a little harder than the first. Jonah propped himself against his elbows and his and PaNene’s eyes met in the faint light provided by the lantern with the same question in them–“What could be the problem?”

  “Oui?” Jonah responded to the door knocking.

  “The Massa needs everyone at the square immediately!” the voice at the door replied—it was Edward, the Slave Master’s translator.

  “Now?” Jonah queried. They’d barely enjoyed three hours sleep sinc
e they laid down their tools from hard work that began the previous morning and ended only a few hours prior.

  “Everyone is to assemble at the square immediately!” Edward repeated and moved on, his tone loaded with finality and the unwillingness to argue or be subjected to the explanation of instructions he had no choice but to carry out. Although it would have been only a few minutes’ difference before it was time for Jonah and the rest of the slaves to get out of their huts on a normal day, they grunted and complained in objection to the mandatory call to appear at the square before their usual wakeup time. This robbed them of a few more minutes of rest, which was a lot, especially after a previous day of the hardest dose of hard work.

  “What now?” one of the slaves mumbled, slowly sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the back of his right palm.

  “Wake the others up and let’s get going,” PaNene replied stretching his right hand towards his walking cane, which was leaned against the wall to his right.

  “How’s your back, Jonah?” he said, turning to his young friend.

  “Still hurts badly, it feels like a million sharp needles are stuck all over my back,” Jonah replied. “As you must have noticed, I am still unable to sleep on my back.”

  “Remember what the rat told its pups when hot water was poured into the hole, in which they were hiding?” the old man said.

  “Yes, I do, Pa,” Jonah replied, nodding slowly. “‘Everything hot eventually cools and nothing hurts forever.’”

  “Good!” the old man said, nodding like a satisfied teacher.

  At the center of the Fort, the branches of three flamboyant trees touched and overlapped, providing a shade that easily accommodated everyone at the Fort. Each of the three main roads in the Fort ran into one of these trees then split and went around the tree into an open space the size of two ships standing side by side. From the open space one could take one of the roads to the Master’s quarters, the Slave quarters, or to the Fort’s main exit.

  Even though Edwards, the Slave Master, and everybody else who spoke English to any degree referred to it as the Square, and even though the rest of the slaves who didn’t understand any word in English knew exactly what location was meant when the word “Square” was used, the open space in the center of the Fort was in reality a huge triangle; the three trees representing the three ends of the triangle.

  By the time Jonah and PaNene arrived at the square, it was already full; it was the first such gathering since Jonah arrived at the Fort. Every morning, slaves assembled at the square to be counted before leaving for the plantations but that was done in several phases and groups, depending on which plantation a slave was assigned to. But this time, the crowd consisted of all the slaves congregated at once; it was a rare gathering and to some slaves a frightening one.

  “What might this be about?” Jonah queried, raising his voice a tad higher. The noise from the crowd was deafening, almost as noisy as the slave market in Roseau where he’d been bought by Massa Longstands.

  “The Massa, I hear has something to tell us,” PaNene replied.

  “Why didn't he give the message to Edwards as usual?” Jonah asked, fearing that the message must be of a serious nature if Massa Longstands was delivering it himself. PaNene ignored his question and focused on the movement that was sweeping through the crowd like a swelling wave. By the time it settled, the crowd had divided into two long lines; the male slaves on one side and the females on the other; facing each other like the opposite walls of a long corridor. Jonah’s eyes quickly scanned the female line and in a few seconds rested on Ashana. She was standing a few meters to his right; her face still bearing the evidence of Michael the devil’s handiwork—a swollen right cheek and a black eye that was visible from the moon. A sharp pain, a million times stronger than what he felt on his back, tore through his heart as he struggled to block the rush of the events of that fateful day from his mind. But soon the murmurings of the crowd became distant and Jonah slowly drifted back to the day at the plantation. It was during their first break and Jonah had sneaked away from his group to meet Ashana where they normally met–under a tamarind tree. The two had barely settled at the foot of the tree when a rustle in the bush startled them. “Don’t move,” Jonah whispered, quietly diving to the ground and slowly crawling towards the movement.

  “Ashana go! Run back to the plantation now!” he called back to Ashana, urgency and fear in his voice as he pointed her in the direction they had come. She jumped almost immediately, fear and a million questions plastered all over her face. “Please go!” Jonah ordered, ignoring the look on her face—a plea for him to accompany her. “Go!” he begged, declining her invitation. Michael the devil was approaching menacingly and there was no way Jonah could outrun him if he traveled with Ashana. The only option was distraction; Ashana would travel the short and safe route back to the plantation while he, on the other hand, would allow Michael to see his back in order to lure him in the opposite direction, then lead him through the longer, more complicated route. The plan worked as Jonah had expected; Michael chased Jonah furiously through the bushes like a mad bull but his weight prevented him from keeping up with Jonah’s quick dashes, turns, and leaps. Michael was simply too slow to catch up with him and Jonah arrived back at the plantation many minutes before Michael the devil.

  When Michael finally emerged from the bushes with a violent stagger, panting heavily, with his face, ears, and eyes flaming red, the entire group of slaves was startled and very scared. But when Michael’s eyes rested on Jonah and he began to walk in the direction where Jonah was seated, Ashana knew that something terrible was about to happen and she began to sob softly.

  “Jonah! Jonah!” PaNene whispered, nudging Jonah with his left elbow.

  “What? Oh Pa,” Jonah replied, startled like one yanked out of a very intriguing dream.

  “Massa is here!” PaNene said, slowly shaking his head and giving Jonah a look that asked him how he could be sleeping on his feet at such a time and place.

  “Listen up everyone,” Massa Longstands began; standing at the end of the lines and then slowly making his way through walls of slaves. “My family will arrive here in two hours; my wife and son,” he added. He paused and then turned to Edwards who was standing right next to him.

  “Massa di…” Edwards began the translation of Longstands’s speech. He was the only one who understood the Massa’s language and although his vocabulary was pretty lean, it nevertheless earned him an important position. He stood between the rest of the slaves and Massa Longstands, receiving instructions, orders, and messages from the Massa and then serving them to the others in Creole Language.

  “I leave for the Rupert Bay in a few minutes to get my family. Everyone will return to their respective huts and re-assemble for introductions when I return.” Massa Longstands concluded his talk, turned to Edwards, and then walked away.

  “That was it?” Jonah asked, turning to PaNene, who along with the rest of the slaves who began murmuring as soon as Massa Longstands was no longer within hearing range, seemed to be wondering the same thing.

  “It is unfair that our sleep was interrupted for a message that Edu-wur-dsy could have passed on to us later on,” one of them said, visibly upset. The others nodded in agreement as they staggered back to their huts in small, gossiping groups.

  Lady English was a popular British ship; one of a type that was constructed with misleading appearances. On the outside it had the appearance of an innocent cargo ship but it was fully capable of engaging in the fiercest of wars when and if the need arose. Lady English had the official responsibility to supply the West Indian British colonies with medical supplies and other goodies like tobacco and alcohol. But unofficially, she also made her trips with loads of concealed weapons hidden deep down her belly. Control of territories in the West Indies was still fragile and changed hands very quickly, oftentimes unexpectedly and in complete defiance of agreements and treaties—especially between the French and the British. But Lady English made su
re that in the event that the French pulled a surprise attack on any of the British territories, they would be shocked at what hit them.

  Mrs. Longstands and her son Nathan had spent almost one month on Lady English on their way to Dominica. The ship docked at the Portsmouth Harbor at about 7.45 that morning and Massa Longstands was at the harbor exactly twenty minutes before Lady English was due to open her doors. He was there to pick up his family but also to make sure that what he had ordered from Her Majesty had arrived exactly as he prescribed. Subdued excitement ran through his body; he couldn’t wait to see his son. The last time he’d seen Nathan, the young man was fifteen but in abundant supply of wisdom. As for Suzanne, his wife, Longstands simply kept his fingers crossed; the woman was highly predictable but sometimes deadly unpredictable. Either way she seemed to take her pain-in-the-hind job seriously.

  “Why are these bushes not trimmed?” Suzanne complained, objecting to the overgrown roadside bushes that brushed against the carriage. “And why in God’s name is he riding like a man mad?” she added angrily.

  “Anthony!” Longstands called out to his assistant who held the reins of the horse.

  “Yes sir!”

  “Go easy boy.”

  “Yes Captain,” Anthony replied.

  “Yes go easy for Pete’s sake, I got enough rocking from that old ship to last me seven lifetimes,” Suzanne said, very standoffishly.

  “Yes Ma’am, sorry about that Ma’am,” Anthony said but continued to drive in the same fashion; he had a lot of respect for Longstands but he could already tell that the woman was one of those types that thought too much of themselves.

  “You are going to enjoy the Fort and the Island, Nathan,” Longstands said to his son who had been very quiet all along.

  “I really think so, Father,” Nathan replied, looking up at his father with a smile.

  “You must be tired—both of you.”