by Sarah Lark
“And now, Máanu?” she asked in a choked voice. “Am I the next?”
Máanu lifted her knife.
“No!” Akwasi cried. He only had on the loincloth that he had worn to sleep, but now it was full of blood. “No, the next is Doug Fortnam!” He spit out the name of his former friend. “She—”
“Kill her quickly!” Máanu said resolutely.
The expression she gave Nora was almost apologetic. Maybe she remembered that Nora had never done anything to her. But the Maroons never left any survivors.
“No!” Akwasi’s voice sounded out once more. The strong man stood resolutely in front of Nora. “She will not be killed. She belongs to me. We’re taking her with us. I want her.”
Nora looked at him with confusion, Máanu looked at him hatefully.
“You want her?” she then said. “You still want her? It … it wasn’t just the Duppy?”
Nora didn’t understand. Or did she? Had Máanu seen them when she had given herself over to Akwasi in the intoxication of the Obeah ceremony?
“I want her!” Akwasi said. “As my wife! She belongs to me!” His eyes were full of desire and full of triumph. Previously, before he had seen her with Doug, love would have been there, too, but now … “As my slave!” he added.
The leader of the Maroons shook his head. “That not good,” he then said. “We don’t want whites in Nanny Town. Queen will not allow.
Akwasi threw back his head. “Then I’ll just go to Cudjoe Town. Whether it’s Saint James Parish or Portland Parish makes no difference to me.” Máanu wanted to respond with something heated, but the entrance of another black man interrupted the discussion.
“There’s no one else, Máanu,” the leader of the Maroons said. “We killed two house niggers that wanted to betray. One of them show us where third white lives. But he not there.”
“Doug Fortnam got away?” Akwasi flew into a rage, just like Máanu. “But he—” Akwasi’s face was full of disappointment. He seemed almost perplexed, almost child-like.
The Maroons, however, seemed alarmed. “He’ll go for help. So, go fast!” Their leader rummaged through the drawers and cabinets in Elias Fortnam’s rooms. Field slaves entered shortly thereafter, and looked at dismembered body of their former backra in disbelief. “Find loot, then set fire to house,” the Maroon explained what was going on. He was now visibly nervous. If someone actually went for help, men with guns, dogs, horses … if they were already in pursuit, it would be difficult to escape.
“We don’t think he ran,” one of the plantation slaves said, this time a former house nigger. Nora recognized him as one of the gardeners. “No one slept in his bed tonight. Maybe was in Kingston.”
“House slaves say that he eat here,” said the Maroon, that had just brought the news of Doug’s disappearance. “Is better, go quickly.”
No one cared about Nora when the men searched the house for valuables at lightning speed. The young woman crouched on the blood-soaked carpet in her husband’s room. Mansah clung to her.
“Want Mama Adwe,” whispered the girl, who seemed no less distraught than Nora. “Missis think they let me go to Mama Adwe?”
Nora did not really think so, especially since she had no idea what had happened with Adwea and the other slaves. Other than Máanu, there only seemed to be men in the house. And Máanu seemed so full of hate that it even seemed quite possible that she had killed her mother. After all, the cook had delivered her two daughters to the backra. In any case, Máanu would certainly not leave her sister. No doubt, she was taking the girl along with her to the Maroons.
“You stay with me!” Nora said, consoling Mansah. “You heard; Akwasi wants to take me along …”
Her eyes fell on Elias’s body and it suddenly didn’t seem so terrible to be kidnapped. It was still better than dying like that. Maybe it would even be possible to escape. And Doug … Doug was free. He would find her!
Startled, she looked up as the shadow of the Maroon leader loomed over her.
“What now with this white lady?” he asked. “Kill quick, get rid of?”
Nora cowered at the flash of a knife, but then Akwasi was back.
“I said, she’s mine! She comes with me, she is my loot. She is all that I want!”
“You don’t want much,” the large black man said. “You new, you not Maroon.”
Akwasi looked at him threateningly. “Oh, but I am just that! I killed the backra. And I am strong. I will be a great warrior for your Nanny. Or for Cudjoe. Or I’ll build myself a hut in the mountains. I’ll go with you, or I’ll go alone. But she is coming with me!”
The Maroon shrugged. “You don’t go alone,” he decided. “That is dangerous. If they catch you, you tell a lot and say Maroons caught you. You go with us, can take white woman. But Nanny makes judgement.”
Akwasi nodded. Then he let his eyes run across Nora’s scantily clad body.
“What did you do?” he asked her sternly. “Why are you running around half-naked? Were you in bed with your Doug?”
Akwasi was intelligent. He drew conclusions from the untouched bed in Doug’s room and Nora’s light attire. Nora glared at him. “That does not concern you!” she said, coolly.
She was completely unprepared for Akwasi’s slap. The blow was not hard, but he had Elias’s blood on his hand.
“Don’t talk to your master that way!” Akwasi snarled at her. “You will learn to obey me!”
“Would you like to hear a ‘yes, Backra’?” The mocking interjection came from Máanu. “Madame will need to practice that—”
“Madame must first get properly dressed,” Akwasi said. “She can’t go to the mountains like this. Go along and help her, Máanu!”
“Am I also your slave now?” Máanu hissed.
“I don’t need help,” Nora said.
“You also won’t get any!” Máanu said, bitterly. “But I will go with you to get the jewelry. Get moving, we have to go.”
Nora’s rooms were teeming with slaves plundering her jewelry boxes. They had already put some of her dresses into sacks — luckily, they were the more magnificent-looking gowns that could possibly bring in some money in Kingston or some other, further away settlement and the more simple housedresses were left alone.
“Well, go ahead!” Máanu goaded her former mistress on, as Nora hesitated to undress in front of the men. “They’ve all seen naked women before. While being whipped, for example. Do you remember? We’re led out and they tear the clothes from our bodies. You’d be wise to get out of the habit of thinking you deserve something better.”
With a quick movement, she pulled the robe from Nora’s body, opened one of the drawers, and threw her some undergarments. Nora cried in shame as she stood naked in front of the staring men and had to take her hands from her breasts and crotch to pull on the shirt and trousers. She quickly and inconspicuously pulled the pendant from her neck. The thin, silk ribbons on which it hung were easy to tear. Nora hid it in her hand before the men could see it and take it from her. Finally, Máanu bored of the spectacle and shooed the men out.
“Otherwise, we’ll never be done here,” she growled and also didn’t stop Nora from pulling a few more dresses together into a bundle. Nora wondered if she should also take her riding boots, but Máanu tore them from her hand.
“That’s enough!” she spat. “Slaves go barefoot. The lady must have noticed, since she’s already been here so long. So go!”
Nora acquiesced. She didn’t look back, as Máanu then handed her back over to Akwasi, who grabbed her roughly by the hand. She was still tightly clutching the pendant. Nora’s heart bled to do it, but she let go of her keepsake as Akwasi dragged her through the garden, hoping that Doug might spot it, and realize where they were taking her. He led her to a group of slaves that were excitedly whispering to each other. Nora was among eighty or ninety people, most of them young. What had become of the others, she didn’t dare to ask.
Máanu and two of the Maroons led the group through the su
gar cane plantation toward the Hollisters’ land. The other three stayed behind, and Nora found out why an hour later. She was stumbling behind Akwasi with her head lowered, but then looked up upon hearing the freed slaves let out a cheer. And then she saw the light of the fire. Cascarilla Gardens went up in flames.
LOVE
Blue Mountains, Nanny Town, Cascarilla Gardens
Fall 1733 to fall 1735
CHAPTER 1
Doug had Amigo gallop along the beach until both he and the horse were tired. He finally slowed the stallion on a cliff far above the sea, having long left the sandy beach behind them. Out of breath, he looked out at the ocean in the moonlight — riding the horse bareback had been exhausting, but he had still not been able to think. Now that several miles lay between him and Cascarilla Gardens, he slowly began to calm down. He had seen the image of what had happened in Elias’s room over and over again in his mind. Never, not even in his worst nightmares, would he have connected the monster associated with Cascarilla Gardens to his father! But now, in hindsight, he also saw the clues that were lost on him and Nora. All of the house slaves must have known of Elias’s deeds, and perhaps Máanu and Akwasi thought that Nora and Doug knew it, too.
Doug slid off of the horse and walked slowly beside Amigo in the mangrove jungle that unfolded before him. He had been there several times with Akwasi — on foot, of course. But they had breathlessly explored the jungle with excitement and were finally rewarded by the sight of a truly spectacular waterfall. Lost in thought, Doug followed the water upstream until he found it. In the moonlight, it looked even more enchanting and surreal than in the daylight. The water cascaded over the smoothly polished stones — Akwasi and Doug had tried to climb up and laughed every time they lost their footing and fell into the creek. Doug let his horse drink. He cupped his hands and scooped some water for himself. He would show Nora the waterfall one day.
He had hated leaving Nora behind but felt certain that Elias wouldn’t hurt her. He had feared what he might do to his father, the rage had been so great. Nevertheless, he felt now that it would have been better to stay. He should have waited for her, and then they should have talked … Found a solution … something better than a cowardly escape.
Doug’s heart was heavy when he jumped up from a stone onto his horse. He slowly directed Amigo through the jungle. When he reached the cliffs again, he saw a strange glow on the horizon. Was that not the direction of Cascarilla Gardens?
Alarmed, Doug peered eastward. Was something on fire? It often happened that one of the huts in the slave quarters caught fire when the blacks lit a fire out in front. But now, at night? He wouldn’t be able to see a burning hut from that distance. What was up in flames was a large house! Doug thrust his heels into Amigo’s flanks. Cascarilla Gardens was alight!
“As far as we know now, there are about four dead in the house, sir.”
Benson, an overseer from the Keensley Plantation, reported to Doug after leering at his scanty clothing. Normally, he would have wondered if Doug often went riding half-naked at night, but given the tragic situation, he would save such considerations for later.
“About?” Doug asked, and looked at smoking ruins of Cascarilla Gardens, confused and still in disbelief.
The house was almost entirely burned to the ground — only the foundation walls were still standing. The remaining slaves began putting the fires out immediately after the Maroon’s departure. Furthermore, the Hollisters and the Keensleys were quickly notified. Even after the overseers had been killed and the Maroons had summoned the slaves that wanted to flee and split up to storm the house, a few older house servants had already headed over to the other plantations. This was rare in Maroon raids, since the free blacks usually didn’t recruit any plantation slaves, but attacked the homes directly. The slaves were usually only first aware of the attack when the main house was in flames.
“It’s hard to tell, sir,” the overseer answered, a little embarrassed. “The … the bodies are completely burned. And partly …well, partly …”
“Now spare the boy all the details,” Christopher Keensley had spotted Doug and pushed his overseer aside. “Here, Douglas, take a sip,”
Keensley handed him a flask. At first, Doug wanted to turn it down, but then he put it to his lips and tasted the rum. He didn’t really feel better afterwards, but he was not as dizzy.
“You know for yourself, boy,” Keensley began to explain, “how these … animals kill. And this time they also had field niggers with them, if I’ve understood correctly, and they’re even more vicious. Apparently, they surprised your father and stepmother in the bedroom. And they had machetes,”
Doug tried to support himself against his horse. “They hacked them to pieces?” he asked tonelessly.
Keensley nodded and handed him the flask again. “And then set the place on fire. The only consolation is that they didn’t die in the flames. But it’s impossible to identify the bodies, I’m sorry, Doug.”
“Is it definitely Nora?” Doug whispered.
Keensley nodded again, “After all, it’s to be assumed. Who else should it be? However, we also assumed you were among the dead.”
“I want to see her!” Doug said, and gave the flask back to Keensley. “I have to see for myself, I—” He let go of Amigo’s reins and stumbled toward the house. The victims of the attack had been placed on blankets, and two slaves were just dragging out the bodies of Truman and McAllister.
“All of the overseers are dead, sir!” Benson reported back to his employer. Keensley nodded, unfocused.
“Don’t, please!” he insisted to Doug. “You’ll never get it out of your head again—”
Doug looked at him, his eyes flickered. “There are many things from this night that are burned into my memory. But this … I …”
Shaking his head, Keensley followed him to the bodies.
“Have the reverend notified,” he said wearily to Benson. “We should bury them as soon as possible.”
Doug did not fall apart when he stood before the charred bodies and body parts. Maybe he would have lost his composure if he had actually recognized Nora, but this … The sight was gruesome, but awakened no recollection of what these people had once been. In fact, you couldn’t even tell if they were black or white, men or women, adults or children. Doug wondered if Mansah was among them, or if the Maroons had taken the girl with them. Usually, they killed the house servants. He turned away. Keensley immediately handed him the flask.
“Come on now. You can’t do anything more here, the fire is out, and the remaining slaves are under the supervision of our people.”
“Supervision?” Doug asked, agitatedly. “Why? If they are not gone by now why would they still run away now?”
Keensley let out an evil laugh. “You know well enough yourself that this pack is not to be trusted.”
Doug rubbed his forehead. “I would like to go to the slave quarters,” he then said. “To … my slave quarters.”
It was a strange feeling, but he had to keep in mind that he was his father’s heir. Whatever was left of Cascarilla Gardens, possibly some living cattle, and the remaining slaves, now belonged to him.
“That is not a good idea, Douglas. You should stay with us for the time being. You can come back tomorrow.”
Doug shook his head. “No, I have to speak to them today. With … Do you know if Mama Adwe …?”
He turned away as Keensley explained that he didn’t know anything. Amigo was still standing where he had left him. The stallion seemed equally as confused and unsure as his master. Doug patted him on the neck and mounted the horse.
“Let’s go to the stables … At least maybe you still have a home.”
Surprisingly, the Maroons hadn’t burned down the stables. They had, however, set the farm buildings on fire. Perhaps the plantation slaves had been the ones to plunder here, rather than the attackers themselves. After all, the horses and mules were gone, but the slave quarters had been spared. Kwadwo took Amigo at the e
ntrance.
“Kwadwo,” Doug said softly. “You … you didn’t leave?”
Kwadwo shook his head. “No, Backra, I didn’t run away. Many not go, all the elderly, the sick, the scared. All need Obeah man. This here not only your niggers, Backra, this also my niggers,” the old man proudly straightened himself up.
Doug nodded. “We will both take care of them,” he whispered. “Do you know … Do you know anything about the missis, Kwadwo? Were you in the house?”
Kwadwo shook his head. “No, I here, Backra. Have helped saddle horses. The stupid field nigger do saddle from missis horse on stupid mule … Of course, I don’t want let them take it, but—”
Kwadwo held his tongue. Perhaps the backra would punish him for helping them steal the animals.
Doug made a dismissive gesture. He registered Kwadwo’s statement, but didn’t want to deal with it now. He couldn’t help but think that Máanu was somehow behind it. Tomorrow, he would have to think about why the Maroons struck a place so far from the Blue Mountains, and why they recruited the fieldworkers. Not now.
“The missis in the house?” Kwadwo asked to deflect the backra. He also threw a questioning glance at Doug’s attire. “Or was she with you?”
The old Obeah man had sharp eyes. The budding romance between Nora and Doug had not escaped him.
Doug shook his head. “She was in the house,” he said wearily.
Kwadwo pursed his lips. “Then she is … I’m sorry, Backra Doug, but in the house all are dead.”
Doug left the Obeah man and staggered to the slave quarters. A heavy fatigue slowly came over him and almost numbed the pain. But he didn’t want to go to the Keensleys. He just wanted to stretch out on the straw beside his horse.
The remaining blacks in the slave village were still up and about and fixed their gaze on Doug with expressions somewhere between relief and fear. Essentially, it must have been good news for them that someone from the family survived. Otherwise, the plantation would have surely wound up in the hands of someone else — or at least the Hollisters and the Keensleys would have split it up. But, on the other hand, the young backra might also long for revenge. Maybe he held the remaining slaves responsible for the murder of his family. The people kneeled down trembling before their master.
