Island of a Thousand Springs

by Sarah Lark

  At that moment, Tolo stepped out of her hut.

  “Akwasi, you are ridiculing the spirits!” She said in a firm voice. “The woman doesn’t belong to you. You possessed her body, but never her spirit. Once that was excusable because you fooled a Duppy. After that it was evil. You have no right to her. Let her go!”

  “Oh, I do have a right to her. The queen gave her to me!” Akwasi insisted. “With the blessings of the spirits!” he boasted, and Nora thought back on Nanny’s incantations.

  Tolo shrugged. “We’ll see who has stronger spirits behind them in the long run,” she then said, “but you will not touch me!” She addressed Akwasi’s companions with a commanding voice. “I have so much power that on the spot you will—”

  “Can you maybe turn them into frogs?” Dede asked, shyly.

  Tolo smiled at the little girl — and then she seemed to gaze off into the distance. “I don’t know where Ireland is,” she said, “but this child will bring great misfortune upon the blood of your blood, Akwasi. And you …” she made a shooing gesture and the guards anxiously backed away.

  Akwasi laughed scornfully. “She is the blood of my blood,” he said.

  Tolo nodded. “That too was wrong. And now leave my land. Make your mistakes elsewhere, Akwasi. You’re disturbing the spirits here. And some of them are not very patient.”

  Akwasi’s companions drove Doug onward with their spears in front of them, being followed by the injured man, who held his bleeding shoulder. Then came Nora with her child and Akwasi was the last. On the way back to Nanny Town, not a word was exchanged. Akwasi brooded silently to himself and Nora had enough to do just fighting back her own panic and fear. Fear for herself, Doug and now also her child. What were Tolo’s crazy prophecies about? And could they possibly lead Akwasi to killing his daughter?

  Akwasi had Doug taken to a round hut that was otherwise used as a storage room. Of course, it had no lock, but the men stood guard in front. There was an abundance of volunteers for the task. Nora’s heart sank when she realized how many former slaves still longed to take revenge on a white backra. The tribunal that would take place on the next day was eagerly anticipated. Nora was permitted to return to her hut — but Akwasi personally “supervised” her. She was more grief-stricken and angry than she had been in years.

  In the morning a few excited guards awoke them with the message that the prisoner had escaped. Doug had broken through the straw and dung walls of the hut. He didn’t need many tools, so the spade he’d found in the storage room sufficed, and then he’d kept it with him as a weapon. Akwasi threatened the guards at fault with terrible punishments. However, before he could even take any action, the horns rang out alerting them that he had been recaptured. The first patrols around the settlement had already found Doug again. One might be able to get away from Nanny Town, but only after reaching an outpost like Tolo’s hut. And it was impossible to get in or out of the village unseen.

  Doug looked about as defeated as Nora felt when the men brought him back into the town, injured. The men had to support him to drag him to the improvised platform to be punished, which Akwasi’s friends had prepared in their enthusiasm over Doug’s capture the day before. Nora was sick when she saw the construction sight: the slightly elevated “stage” that was built around a tree on which one could hang the condemned to be whipped too closely resembled the constructions at the gathering places of the plantations.

  Clearly no one here wanted to “administer justice.” It was about savage revenge, concocted by people who hated every member of the white race. A few of the former slaves had bottles of rum in their hands. Akwasi must have distributed special rations.

  Nora felt her last bit of hope vanish — especially since the spectacle was not taking place in the square in the middle of town, as would have been expected. It had been set up at the warriors’ training grounds, secluded from the village. Whoever didn’t want to, wouldn’t witness any of it. The audience formed accordingly: it was almost exclusively men and the vast majority of them were former field slaves.

  Many of them came shirtless and, as Doug was led through the crowd, showed him the scars on their backs from being whipped. The real Maroons, the families, and old villagers, whom Nora had hoped would have a moderating influence, remained in the huts. They had no particular sympathy for white backras and they had no inhibitions at all about killing planters during their raids, but they also found no pleasure in torturing them to death publicly. If Akwasi and his people wanted to do that, they would look away.

  So, about fifty of the over two thousand residents of Nanny Town gathered around the platform and the hanging tree. They hooted and whistled as Doug was hung with his arms tied over a branch. Nora couldn’t understand how they could take pleasure in it. Every one of them must have remembered how it felt to be in this situation. But Doug didn’t give them the satisfaction of responding to their abuses. He had been stoically dragged through the crowd and bound — Nora was reminded of Akwasi’s composure when she first saw such a punishment. Again she wondered how the men could hate each other so much when they were similar in so many ways.

  Akwasi dragged Nora to the platform.

  “Maroons!” he cried to the people. Enthusiastic hooting followed. The freed slaves considered the name a title of honor — especially since the free blacks from birth often gave them the feeling that they were second-class citizens in Nanny Town. “We are here today to hold a tribunal! I have taken him prisoner as is done in Africa. As a prisoner of war, after he broke into our settlement with the intention of stealing my property — I did not abduct him!”

  A few men applauded. The few to whom the difference was clear. To most of them, however, it simply didn’t matter if their sacrifice was guilty of some offense or had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  “I am not your possession!” Nora cried out.

  Her bright-green eyes seemed to be emitting sparks. Doug looked up at her. She was so beautiful — if he might just look at her as he died. The men paid no attention to Nora’s objection. They only laughed as Akwasi continued speaking. “What does this slave owe us?” he shouted into the crowd.

  “Sugar cane!” a few of the men answered.

  “Work!” several others shouted.

  “Should be good servant!” one of them quoted Reverend Stevens with a grin.

  “But what did the slave do? He ran away. What is the punishment for running away for the first time?”

  “Fifty lashes!”

  “Thirty lashes!”

  “Seventy!”

  Apparently, the penalties varied depending on the plantation. Probably only a few planters had actually imposed the maximum of seventy, since they wanted to continue to use their slaves for labor, after all.

  “Let’s say fifty!” Akwasi grinned. “Overseer?”

  One of the largest and strongest men, whom Nora only knew by sight, grabbed the whip. He didn’t come from Cascarilla Gardens but had been freed from a plantation east of Kingston. In general, there were only few former slaves from the Fortnam plantation among the spectators. Most of them knew the difference between Elias and Doug. They were probably ashamed of Akwasi’s vendetta. But like the Maroons, they also would not take sides. A white in Nanny Town was considered fair game.

  Amid the sounds of the former slaves cheering, were the first cracks of the whip against Doug’s bare back. He jerked up under them but didn’t scream — he composed himself just like every slave in the crowd whom Nora had seen hanging from a tree. It was only when the skin split open and the whip tore deeper wounds that the men could no longer stand it. Doug’s lips released the first groan at the eighteenth blow, when blood was already running down his back. Nora tried desperately to make eye contact with him to give him courage.

  Doug, who had his head lowered and seemed lost in his own world up to that point somehow felt it. He lifted his head, looked her in the eyes — and smiled.

  Akwasi shouted his fury at the sight of that. “W
hat are you doing?” he called to the overseer. “Already tired? The slave is laughing at you. Does anyone want to take his place?”

  Another man grabbed the whip while the crowd cheered. The next blows were carried out with new force. Doug could no longer hold himself up on his own legs. He was now hanging from the tree. The leaves shone crimson in the sunlight — like Doug’s blood. Nora felt dizzy, but she had to be strong. She had to keep her strength as she might be threatened with the same fate later. Akwasi would certainly get back at her for the attempted escape.

  Doug was trying to suppress his cries by biting his lips. They quickly became almost as bloody as his back. But he managed to keep from giving Akwasi the satisfaction. With an almost super human effort, he denied himself any expression of pain. With the thirty-sixth crack of the whip, he lost consciousness.

  “And now?” Akwasi asked the audience, grinning.

  “Water!” the men answered all at once.

  They knew exactly how it was done on the plantations. Nora was horrified by their pitiless faces. Akwasi emptied a bucket of water over Doug’s motionless body.

  Coughing, Doug regained consciousness.

  “More?” the overseer asked, half to Akwasi and half to his victim. Doug was struggling to support himself, but managed to turn his head.

  “I’m waiting,” he said, between bruised lips.

  Akwasi gritted his teeth. Finally, they reached the fiftieth lashing. Doug hung from his bonds, his body covered in sweat and blood — and even the man with the whip looked exhausted.

  Akwasi gave them both some time to catch their breath. The men in the audience had also calmed down at that point. Then he glanced at the prisoner to make sure he was conscious.

  “So, our slave has been punished,” he said to the crowd, unmoved. “But what did he do? He immediately took his next chance to try and run again.”

  Nora listened in shock. She had not sincerely thought that Akwasi would let it go at fifty but this … this was too treacherous. Why hadn’t he simply called for seventy lashings and brought it to an end?

  “What is the punishment for the second escape attempt?”

  Nora had to fight down her nausea again. She had suddenly envisioned the area where they carried out punishments on the Hollister plantations. The two captured runaway slaves …

  “Cut off leg!” one of the men cried.

  “Cut off foot!” others said. Apparently, it was the most common punishment.

  Nora’s head was spinning. Doug looked to her for help. For the first time, she saw panic in his eyes. He knew that the vast majority of victims died days after from fever and pain. Which Akwasi was counting on …

  He grinned. “Maybe a few toes will be enough? What do you think, slave? If you ask nicely?”

  Doug didn’t have the saliva left to spit at him, but his eyes said enough. He wouldn’t ask.

  “A half foot!” Akwasi decided, laughing.

  Someone pulled Doug’s foot onto a block. His boots had already been removed, since the former slaves dragged him to the platform as they had been in the past — shirtless, barefoot, and only wearing light cotton trousers, which were now soaked in blood. Doug desperately resisted the men holding him down the best he could, and in turn the executioner tied him back to a tree. The bark bore into the wounds on his back. Doug screamed for the first time.

  “And who here is good with a machete?” Akwasi asked the crowd.

  Nora followed his gaze. Was there really no one who would raise any objections? But she only saw smiling black faces in front of the platform — and a colorful spot approaching the settlement from the distance. A woman. Nanny? No, that was impossible — the woman was tall and young. The queen wouldn’t have been able to move so nimbly. As a young man picked up a machete, Nora recognized Máanu.

  Akwasi and the executioner briefly discussed where he should strike. The chop was to detach Doug’s toes and the ball of his foot. Doug lifted up his deathly pale face and tried to find any sort of feeling in Akwasi’s eyes. He moved his lips.

  “Akwasi, we were—”

  Nora could read the words from his lips more than she could hear them.

  Akwasi made a dismissive gesture. “We were never friends,” he spat.

  Máanu pushed through rows of people in the back, cursing loudly with her fists raised.

  “Do it!” Akwasi said.

  The young executioner swung and Doug’s body seized as the machete hit him. But it was a clumsy hit. It left a deep wound, but didn’t cut the foot from his body. And then Máanu reached the podium. She climbed it with a single step and tore the machete from the man’s hand.

  “What is this? Have you all gone mad?” the young woman held out the knife in front of her as if she wanted to use it against Akwasi and his helper. “I thought you were still looking for him. I was at Tolo’s … Mansah disappeared. And now I hear this! You are … this is unbelievable!”

  Máanu turned to Doug and cut through the ropes binding him to the tree. She looked at the blood on the bark in disbelief. Doug was still hanging from his arms. He was completely helpless, couldn’t hold himself up on one leg and he didn’t dare move the injured foot.

  “We have every right!” Akwasi defended himself. “It’s even in the Bible: an eye for an eye—”

  “Since when do you quote the Bible?” Máanu replied angrily. “The Akwasi that I knew stole a chicken for the Obeah man. And now he’s talking like a white reverend. Tolo is right, Akwasi, you are whiter than any backra!”

  “You take that back!”

  Akwasi looked like he was about to lunge at her.

  Máanu slapped him across the face.

  “Remember that you now also have to turn the other cheek!” she sneered at him.

  Akwasi seemed too stunned to respond. In turn, another man, a tall Ashanti who was probably born in Africa got riled up.

  “That enough, woman! We proud. We revenge!”

  “We Maroons!” another one exclaimed, puffing himself up.

  The others cheered him on and hit their spears together like African warriors. Máanu looked down at them as if they were naughty children.

  “Maroons?” she then asked. “I don’t see any Maroons here. And certainly no pride!”

  Máanu lifted the machete again. Ignoring the men’s protests, she cut Doug’s right arm free.

  “I only see what I saw on the plantations throughout my life: men who think it’s fun to torture others to death.”

  She cut Doug’s second hand free. The young man fell to the ground, groaning. Nora wanted to go to him, but Akwasi stopped her. Máanu glared at him.

  “And I don’t see any Ashanti. Only whiny, worthless field niggers who force themselves on women and then make them have their children even when they don’t love them, when there is nothing there but hate!”

  Akwasi let go of Nora and threateningly approached his first wife. Máanu looked up at him defiantly and even Nora, who was really only concerned about Doug, could feel her power. Akwasi might see himself as Quao’s governor, but Máanu represented the power of the queen. No one would dare do anything to her. Then more residents of Nanny Town were approaching the crowd. Women, but also armed men, real Maroons. The girl Alima led them.

  “Not harm backra!” she cried from afar. “Good backra. And Nanny there. Nanny angry! No hurt backra!”

  The scarf covering Alima’s head had come loose and her hair flew in the wind. Her father, Maalik, did not comment. He strode grimly among the other men, armed with a machete.

  “How many lashes for a civil war?” Máanu asked her husband, derisively. “Come down now and face the queen. She will have a few things to say about this!”

  Afterwards, Nora only had a hazy memory of what had happened in the following hour. She had collapsed beside Doug, but she still had enough strength to make sure he was alive. She didn’t notice who brought them to one of the huts and locked them in. The house was completely empty, probably newly constructed, and then men had thr
own Nora and Doug on the bare, hard-packed earth. An image from the past flashed in Nora’s mind as she looked at Doug lying beside her — Akwasi on the floor of his slave hut with his back torn to pieces and Máanu soaking up the blood with her new Sunday dress. Just as Nora now tore her petticoat to at least temporarily bandage Doug’s foot. The wound was deep, but it could fully heal … if it was kept clean, treated, and bandaged: if he got some rest. Nora didn’t delude herself. Even if everything went well, there was still the danger of the wound getting inflamed. Without treating it, Doug would almost certainly die.

  At some point, Mansah brought Nora a jug of water and a cup.

  “Nanny is very angry with Akwasi!” she whispered to her. “I got Nanny! The drums said they would stay another night in the mountains and pray, but I ran up and looked for them—”

  “You come now!”

  The surly guard that had accompanied Mansah was one of the men from Doug’s whipping. Nora looked at him hatefully. Mansah reluctantly complied. Nora tried to support Doug enough to bring the cup to his lips. He drank, thirstily.

  “These huts,” he then whispered. “They don’t have solid walls. You don’t even need tools. We can run away in the night—”

  “So that they catch us again?” Nora said softly, and wiped the sweat-damp hair from his forehead. “You saw for yourself how well the town is secured.”

  And you couldn’t even take three steps. She didn’t say it out loud, Doug wouldn’t admit to his weakness. But it was impossible to flee twenty miles through the bush in his condition. Even if the guards were to let them through.

  “You have to run,” Doug said. “At least you. If you tell them in Kingston—”

  Nora shook her head. “I also wouldn’t get away alone. And if I did, then I would most likely make it to the north coast. By the time I would be able to alert the governor, you would have long been killed already. Anyway, I don’t want to go. I am exactly where I want to be.”

  She carefully pulled Doug into her lap after she had torn bandages for the wounds on his back from the rest of her petticoat. Even if she couldn’t do anything else for him, the open welts on his back should at least not come in contact with the dirt floor and get contaminated.