“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.
Chapter Twenty
N
athan couldn’t see where the interrogation of the slaves was going and was already running very thin on patience; seventy slaves had already been questioned and nothing was forthcoming. His father saw the message of impatience written all over his son's face, but what did the boy know about slaves? Longstands’s vast wealth of experience assured him that sooner or later one of them would break and he was ready to scan a million of them if that is what it took.
“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.”
After rearranging Edwards’s words in his head, Longstands understood everything without needing Edwards to repeat—the man who just gave testimony shared the same hut with an old man who was very good friends with the escaped slave. The old man had retur
ned to the hut late the previous night and the boy did not. The insinuation was that the old man must know of the boy's whereabouts—Longstands turned to Nathan and Anthony, a crack of smile on his face. He knew the two were anxious to get the interpretation, especially Nathan who was willing to give anything for any information regarding the whereabouts of Ashana.
By the time he opened his mouth, Longstands had already made up his mind about what he believed Nathan would love to hear. The ball was presently in his court and it mightn’t be for long but one thing he had learned in the British military was that as soon as the ball entered your court, you had no excuse not to take control of it. It really didn’t matter how much time it was in your court, as long as it was there you should take control of it.
“The boy took the girl against her will and they headed in the southeast section of the Fort,” Longstands began, changing the story in a way that placed him at some advantage. “The good news gentlemen, is that the route they took leads to a dead end.” Massa Longstands lied, blaming Ashana’s disappearance on Jonah.
Convincing Nathan that the slave boy had taken Ashana forcefully and without her consent, would at least clear Longstands from having anything to do with the escape and it was something he really needed his son to believe.
Anger built up in Nathan's bosom like the magma of a volcano impatiently counting down to the last few seconds of its eruption time. He didn’t know who the slave boy was and didn’t care but the fact that he’d had the nerve to take Ashana against her will made Nathan resolve to rip out his heart the moment he caught him. “When do we leave?” he snapped, like a mother who’d had enough of a nagging child. He was getting a little irritable and the blazing heat of the sun was beginning to take a toll on his body.
“Edwards, go gather me six men from the line-up,” Longstands ordered. This was a perfect opportunity for him to prove to his son that he’d had no hand in the disappearance of the slaves; a notion that he was sure his son still harboured somewhere deep down in his heart.
The way he handled the search operation would determine what his son did next; Longstands was bent on proving his non-involvement but more importantly, he was determined to take advantage of the situation as much as possible.
“Wait wait,” he yelled at Edwards. “I want only volunteers!”
“Massa?” Edwards said, looking lost and startled and staring straight at his Massa. Longstands knew right away; the slave hadn’t that word in his lean database of English words.
“Edwards, by the word ‘volunteers’ I mean only those who choose to go on their own. Don’t force anybody, understood?”
Edwards remained motionless, still staring at his Massa’s lips. Longstands took another look at Edwards’s face and knew he hadn’t done a good job of explaining.
“You,” Longstands said, poking his forefinger at Edwards’s chest. “You say to them, ‘anybody wants to come with us to find the runaways?’”
Edwards’s face began to brighten like a dark room, taking in sunlight rays from a hole in the window and suddenly all of them except Nathan broke out in a burst of laughter as Edwards ran towards the line-up.
“We will leave as soon as the runners arrive,” Longstands said, turning to Nathan, who showed no sign of being reassured. “The runners are very good, they can sniff them out from miles away, so relax,” he added with a little smile. It was a smile that came from a deep satisfaction that his latest plan would resolve his problem once and for all and restore peace between him and his son.
“Nathan, are you sure you want to come along? You really don’t have to, you know,” Longstands said.
“More than anything else, Father,” Nathan replied.
His son's immediate response didn't surprise Longstands; the boy had replied right away as if he’d been waiting for the question and Longstands regretted asking it. After all, his son was not one to be easily intimidated or persuaded. “I am just saying the terrain can be bad and all kinds of dangerous animals inhabit the bushes so...”
“I know Father,” Nathan interrupted. He had to put an end to the line of conversation because there was no need to try to discourage or persuade him otherwise.
“Okay,” Longstands said, feeling defeated.
“I mean, who doesn’t know about the snakes, elephants, rhinos, lions, tigers, hippos, etc. that inhabit this beautiful jungle of an island called Dominica?” Nathan said, with no effort to hide his sarcasm. “Anyways, I am in for the adventure Father, so it would be wise if you’d please drop the attempt to discourage me.”
The sarcasm wasn't really necessary, Longstands thought. “Well if you insist, son, you are welcome to tag along, but you must inform your mother first because...”
“Because Father, as I said before and repeating now, I, Nathan Longstands am a man of age and with this comes a privilege called ‘you no longer need permission from your mother’ so thanks Father for your understanding.”
As Edwards walked back to the shed, he continued to rehearse the word he’d heard for this first time–‘vuloonteer.’ He meant to add the word to his vocabulary; he would tell Longstands that none of the slaves wanted to be a ‘vuloontee.’ “Vuloonteer, voloonteer vuloonteer,” he practiced, pronouncing the word over and over again. He also planned to tell the Massa the reason why none of the slaves would openly ‘vuloonteer.’ The slaves would do certain things in public but volunteering to go search for their fellow slaves who were courageous enough to plan and execute an escape wasn’t one of them.
Edwards approached Longstands and explained that the best thing would be for the Massa himself to go over to the line-up and handpick slaves that would go for the search, in that way the slaves could hide under the excuse of having no choice because they were forced by the Massa. Longstands saw the sense in what Edwards was saying and turned to his son.
“Nathan, why don’t you go over to the line-up and select six, able-bodied slaves to accompany us,” Longstands said. “Look for young, tall, and strong ones.” To Anthony, he said, “You take the rest of the slaves to the plantation. Work must continue as usual but increase the burden and reduce the breaks, this way somebody is bound to speak soon and provide us with more information.”
“Yes sir,” Anthony replied and marched off.
“Edwards, you take me to the old man's house, immediately.”
“Yes Massa,” Edwards replied with a heavy heart; it already hurt him badly that his very close friend had been mentioned in the incident but it was even more painful that he had to take Massa Longstands to identify PaNene.
PaNene, he thought to himself, was a very good man. He had known him over twenty years; they were of the same age and had arrived at the Fort at the same. When they were younger they’d often talked about escaping but as time passed and age came down on them, they slowly but surely gave up on the idea.
“Where will I go?” he remembered PaNene saying just a few years after the woman he loved had taken her life. Now, even though Edwards feared his friend’s involvement, he still doubted that his long-time friend had played any role in the escape.
Chapter Twenty-one
S
itting on her mat that morning, Marecia leaned her back against the wall and stared at the window on the opposite wall. One could tell that it wasn’t the rays of the sun filtering into the hut that had her attention. Whenever she sat in that position, she was looking at things way beyond the seas and oceans, something she could only see with the eyes of her mind and what she saw, no one else did and could. This morning, what she was seeing frightened her and caused prayers to escape her trembling lips; she was watching the development of a dangerous scenario, in which her daughter was the main character.
She saw Ashana being chased by a band of furious looking men. Although Ashana ran like a stallion and it appeared as though these men could never catch up with her, it was the look on the faces of the men that frightened Marecia the most. This time she saw the men closing in on Ashana but just as they were about
to grab her, the daydream suddenly stopped and then started over again, leaving Marecia perspiring and swearing under her breath. When she finally managed to tear herself away from the constant replay of the frightening vision movie, her thoughts returned to the events that she had spent the entire night preparing herself for. Marecia knew that any time now she would hear footsteps approaching her hut; men sent by Massa Longstands would storm into her hut and drag her away.
She took a deep breath and as she exhaled, she thought about the slim possibility that her daughter would not have to live the life she'd had to live. The thought that there was a possibility that Ashana might have a better life strengthened her for whatever she was about to face and helped the words that were in her mouth to come out; “I am ready,” she whispered to herself.
Ever since the death of Neka, PaNene had sworn to himself that he’d assist any slave who had the guts to plan an escape. He was still feeling his familiar regret about Neka when he heard approaching footsteps.
“Massa,” he greeted bowing slightly. He looked at the faces of the other two men standing beside Massa Longstands; the young man was the Massa’s son and the other man was his friend, Edwards.
“Massa wants to know where your boy is at,” Edwards translated Longstands’s question.
“Jonah! You found him?” PaNene pretended.
Longstands couldn’t believe that the old man didn’t know anything about the escape.
“You returned to your hut very late last night. Where were you?” Longstands asked.
Edwards translated.
“I fell asleep by the side of the tree, by the time I got to my hut, everybody was asleep,” PaNene replied with a look of honesty on his face.
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