by Sarah Lark
“Let’s get to it!” Trelawny said finally, and held the door open for Nanny before leading his guests outside. “We’ll stand side by side so that everyone can see us well and then I’ll say a few words. If you would also like to say something, then feel free, Queen Nanny!” he smiled. “In any case, it shouldn’t take long. That would be unreasonable in this heat!” He pulled out a perfumed handkerchief and dabbed his forehead with it.
Granny Nanny was noticeably trying to be diplomatic. In her place, Doug probably wouldn’t have refrained from pointing out her past as a field slave. The governor was certainly a peaceful person and a nice fellow, but sometimes he didn’t seem to grasp where he was and with whom he was dealing.
Thus, the small Maroon leader stood outside of the governor’s palace dutifully next to the governor. Her brother Cudjoe towered over him on the other side. Trelawny put up a hand to quiet the crowd …
And then countless things seemed to happen at the same time.
Máanu saw the queen on the steps in front of the palace and wondered if she should wave. But then she looked over at Akwasi — and discovered the gun in his hand. At the same moment, Jefe saw his mother on top of the fruit cart. Máanu screamed and jumped from the cart, Jefe also bellowed and freed himself from Nora’s hand.
“Mama!”
The little boy ran to Máanu and in doing so had to cross through the fenced-off area of the palace, but a few uniformed guards couldn’t stop a future Ashanti warrior! Jefe broke through the barrier like a little black flash.
“Jefe!”
Beaming, Nanny bent down to draw the little boy towards her and then a shot rang out. The governor turned to her, confused about what was happening.
Doug looked frantically towards the muzzle fire, as Máanu also broke through the barricade, pulling her son to her and protectively huddling over him. Doug pulled the governor to the ground as the next shot was fired — and this time he saw where it came from. Uncertain of whether he should notify the guards or go in pursuit himself, he held Trelawny down for the time being.
Máanu pointed excitedly toward the sedan and called something out to the white soldiers. They loaded their weapons — while the Windward Maroons’ escort did not waste a moment. Shots were returned, people screamed — and a brigade of angry warriors was in pursuit of Akwasi.
The young man fled. He hurried down the side street where the sedan had been set down — but he didn’t know that the planters’ carriages would be blocking the next cross street. Akwasi pulled out his knife and ran toward the next coachman, but he chose the wrong person.
Kwadwo had carried a knife with him ever since Doug’s document designated him as a free black. He hit Akwasi’s weapon out of his hand with the same casual skill that he exhibited while beheading chickens.
“Forget it, boy, they’ll just shoot you!” Kwadwo twisted Akwasi’s arm behind his back, as he desperately fought back. “You have to surrender. Otherwise you’ll never get out of here alive.”
“I do not care!” Akwasi gasped and struggled against his grip. The first Maroons, followed by white soldiers, were already coming around the corner. “Then I’ll just be hanged!” Akwasi fought with all his strength, but Kwadwo was stronger.
“You won’t hang,” the Obeah man said, calmly. “Backra Doug won’t allow that.” Nora and Máanu both struggled with little Jefe, who began to shout wildly when Akwasi was bound and dragged in front of the Maroons and the governor.
“A black?” Trelawny asked, surprised. “I thought—”
“Akwasi,” Nanny said, sadly. “Is a single white woman worth all this?”
The governor furrowed his brow. “You know the man?” Nanny nodded.
“So it was against you?”
Doug’s mind raced. If Akwasi were to have a chance at escaping with his life, it would surely be more likely if he had the intention of killing a black instead of the governor to the Crown. So, maybe one could leave the question open—
“Your Excellency,” he interjected, before Nanny could answer. “It might have been aimed at me. Or my wife — or his wife …” He pointed to Máanu. “The man is mentally confused, it will be explained later. First have him taken away. The queen will surely want to introduce you to Máanu, her right-hand in Nanny Town, in a manner of speaking. And now also her protector. Whomever the attack was directed towards, Your Excellency, Máanu prevented it.”
Trelawny seemed somewhat appeased, but of course he heard the lawyerly arguments of Doug’s rather deliberate speech.
“You want to defend the man, Fortnam?” he gasped out suspiciously, and pointed an accusatory finger at Akwasi. “I think we can find out right here and now. Who were you aiming for? You may as well say it, since we’ll find out at some point anyway.”
Doug looked at the man who had once been his closest friend. They had known each other so well for so many years that words weren’t necessary. Akwasi now just had to look him in the eyes and trust him for once.
“You’ve already talked us both into trouble once, Akwasi!” Doug’s lips formed the words soundlessly.
And Akwasi, who was already standing up in his bonds to shout the truth at the governor, lowered his head.
“I not shoot Backra Doug,” he muttered. “Weapon go off. Not want to make anyone dead. Akwasi good nigger.”
CHAPTER 12
“They won’t hang him?” Nora asked.
Doug had just entered the house and she already recognized his exhausted, but triumphant expression, indicating that he had prevented the worst. Máanu came in after him, looking no less worn out. The young woman had hours of interrogation behind her, while Doug had arduous negotiations.
“No,” he then said and opened the delicate logwood display cabinet that adorned the new reception room. “Anyone else?” Doug poured himself a glass of rum.
Máanu nodded. Nora did too, although she preferred white rum. She regretted the choice all the same. Adwea used to cool bottles in the creek before serving them. From the cabinet there, it was lukewarm, and even the best drops tasted stale.
Doug quickly threw back his rum. “Akwasi continued acting stupid,” he then reported. “As hard as it was for him, although no one believed it. A pistol doesn’t suddenly go off somehow and then twice in a row in a highly compromising direction. And Máanu’s story was just as implausible. Just because you want to greet your child and old friend, doesn’t mean you storm through a row of guards screaming and then pull people to the ground. But they didn’t endlessly probe her. Beyond a doubt, Máanu prevented the assassination and the governor appreciated it very much. Not to mention what would have happened to the peace treaty had there been deaths! Anyway, Máanu appealed for Akwasi, and Nanny also campaigned on his behalf. Then my reasoning on top of that.” He grinned happily, but became serious when he saw Nora’s concerned expression. “But they … won’t let him go free now, will they?” she asked. Her fingers trembled as she filled her empty wine glass with rum.
“Would you have preferred they hanged him?” Doug asked. “I—I thought …”
Nora shook her head. “No,” she said honestly. “I have indeed wished for his death from time to time, but not anymore. And hanging …”
She shuddered. If she were being honest, however, she dreaded Akwasi being anywhere near her again. As long as he was free, she wouldn’t sleep soundly and she now knew that she would never really be safe.
“They can’t let him free. They are deporting him,” Máanu said. Her voice sounded distant.
“Deporting?” Nora furrowed her brow. “To Australia?”
Before she left England, she had heard of transporting convicts to the distant colonies. But they came from London or Blackpool, not Jamaica.
“To the Cayman Islands,” Máanu said. “It’s not so far, they say, just two hundred miles northwest of here. They also belong to the British.”
Doug nodded. “But they’re not very settled,” he then explained. “Just a few families live there — with their
slaves, of course. Certainly no Maroon colony. In the Cayman Islands, everyone knows each other. Escape is impossible.”
“Are there sugar cane plantations?” Nora asked, softly.
She felt a vague pity for him. If after all this, he had to return to his life of drudgery — perhaps he would have rather died.
“More cotton, and all kinds of vegetables, and fruits,” Doug said. “Not much is exported. The people there largely plant for their own needs — and provisions for the ships that sail through. The captains also help themselves there. Still more piracy then here.”
“So, he could be hired on a pirate ship,” Nora considered.
She didn’t know if she thought it a joke or if it scared her — or if she was hopeful.
“The discipline would still be stricter than on a plantation or even in Nanny Town,” Doug smiled.
“It would be difficult for Akwasi to fit in, let alone work his way up. It’s very unlikely that he’ll return as a pirate captain. I don’t think that you have to worry, Nora. Akwasi will no longer bother us.”
Máanu drank her rum and wiped her eyes. She didn’t want them to see her crying, but Nora noticed.
“What will you do now, Máanu?” she asked gently. “Are you going back to Nanny Town? Doug will let you go free.”
Doug smiled. “It’s already done,” he commended. “Letter of manumission from the governor! I wasn’t even asked. Máanu can live legally in Kingston, or in Nanny Town, or wherever she pleases.”
“If you want to stay here you could take care of Dede and Jefe. For appropriate payment, of course,” Nora suggested, with her eyes downcast.
She could actually do well without Máanu’s presence, but she also didn’t want to separate Jefe from her again.
Máanu shook her head and made her old, mocking smile. “Nursemaid for my own son? Just like Adwea back then: the same upbringing for master and child, as long as it pleases the backra?”
Nora went on. “It wouldn’t be like that! Jefe has long been free, he—”
Máanu bit her lip. “I didn’t really mean that,” she then admitted. Nora would probably never get closer to an apology. “But I won’t stay here. And if my son is really free, then I would like to take him with me.”
“To Nanny Town?” Nora said, feeling infinitely relieved.
“No.” Máanu nervously ran her fingers through her short hair. “I’m going with him to the Cayman Islands.”
“You’re what?” Nora cried out, shocked. “Máanu, this can’t be true. You’re running after Akwasi? Again? Have you lost your mind?”
Máanu shrugged. “That is probably the case,” she smiled. “Even when I was a little girl, I knew that I loved Akwasi—”
“But he doesn’t love you!” Nora said, firmly. “And he never did.”
“But that can change,” Máanu then said. “Anyway, I will try it again.”
Doug rubbed his forehead. “But Máanu, after everything you went through with him, Nora and you … You could build a new life here. In Kingston. Maybe in a store, a market stall? We could help you.”
Máanu shook her head. “If you really want to give me something, Backra,” she smiled, “Then maybe you could help me out with a chicken?”
The chained prisoners were brought on board the small cargo ship, which primarily transported slaves, but also a few goods such as fabrics and household wares, from Jamaica to the Cayman Islands. It had taken a small fortune in bribes and references to the governor’s wishes for Máanu and her son to hire a crate that could serve as their accommodations. And Doug added a comparable sum until the captain agreed to lead Akwasi to her as soon as the ship left Kingston.
“He won’t capture the ship on his own!” he promised the anxious sailor.
They finally settled on a compromise. The slave would get his privileges, but the chains wouldn’t be removed. Doug also understood this. The prisoners on the ship were all slaves that had been found guilty of some serious offense, mostly attacks on their masters. None of them had any scruples; none of them had anything left to lose. Except maybe Akwasi, but Doug wasn’t going to tell the whole story to the captain, who was a complete stranger.
Nora worried about Jefe seeing his father in chains again, but they couldn’t help the child there. Doug also didn’t consider it right to fool the boy: his father would never be a king. He remained a slave.
Akwasi felt more anxiety than relief when two sailors came to the cargo hold and released his chains from the floor shortly after the ship set off. He had already prepared himself for the hard planks that were soaked in salt water — none of the prisoners would see the sun during the several-day journey, their freedom of movement was limited to sitting halfway up while grasping at the meager food rations. Akwasi knew what to expect. He had seen enough Africans coming from ships covered in scratches and half-starved.
But now he was being led back into the light, and Akwasi expected nothing good to come of it. He had just barely been pardoned — the governor could still change his mind. Akwasi prepared himself for death. If they threw him in the water in chains, it was over — no one could swim under the weight of the irons. On top of that, there were sharks.
Then they didn’t go outside, but rather to an intermediate deck — dryer and less dark than in the belly of the ship. The men knocked on the door.
“Here he is, madam!”
She smirked a little when they said the last word. Akwasi understood was was happening only when Máanu opened the door.
“You?” he asked after the men had shoved him into the small, but clean and dry room where Máanu and Jefe were waiting.
“Papa!” Jefe wanted to run to him and throw himself into his arms, but the chains scared him off. He looked at Akwasi questioningly. Initially, Akwasi didn’t look at his son, but instead only at the woman looking calmly at him.
“You’re coming along?” he asked, hoarsely.
Máanu nodded. “I’m your wife,” she then said, firmly. “We belong together. If you … if you would … just see it.”
“Máanu,” Akwasi’s mouth was dry.
Máanu passed him a glass of water. “Drink,” she said, quietly. “And of course you don’t have to live with me. If you want, I’ll build myself a hut away from your quarters. But I thought I would try it again.” She pointed to a large basket. A white hen was peering warily into the light through the openings in the weaving.
Akwasi managed a laugh. “You got a chicken?” he asked her. “For an Obeah ceremony?”
Máanu nodded. “There will surely be an Obeah priest on the island. And maybe a more helpful Duppy. This time there is no Nora around. And I won’t let you out of my sight. The magic will have to work this time.”
Akwasi went silent for a few moments. Máanu didn’t look at him, but peered through a tiny porthole from the cabin out to the sea. And then she suddenly felt a hard, strong hand in hers. Akwasi’s chains rattled, but they were long enough to reach Máanu.
“Let the animal live,” he said, softly. “You are magic enough.”
“What was that about with the hen?” Doug asked.
The Fortnams had ridden to the beach and saw in the distance the ship that carried Akwasi and his family to a difficult, but shared future. Dede was perched in front of Doug in Amigo’s saddle and crowed with delight when the stallion galloped. The trip was mainly a distraction. It had been hard for the girl to part with Jefe and she was sad to lose her brother.
Nora shrugged. “You know about the Obeah ceremonies,” she said. “The blood of the hen summons a Duppy.”
Doug nodded. “Of course,” he said. “But why does she need it? I mean, isn’t three one too many?”
Nora laughed. “You can call Duppies for various reasons,” she said. “But Máanu is hoping for a lonely one, needy for love. With a bit of luck, it will possess the intended person, after which he will devote himself to the one who paid for the ceremony.”
Doug rubbed his forehead. “And then it stays for ever?”
he asked, incredulously.
Nora shook her head. “No. No spirit stays forever. But some stay with you a very, very long time.”
She glanced at the hut on the beach, almost apologetically.
Doug sighed. “I can attest to that,” he then said.
He knew that Nora still carried her keepsake of Simon. And if there was still no exact date for their wedding, it was because of her eternal guilt about her first beloved. Nora took a deep breath, then she made a decision.
“Come,” she said serenely, and brought her horse to a gallop.
Aurora ran obediently up to the water and then shied away from the surging waves. Nora dismounted and let go of the reins.
The pendant that she had made from Simon’s signet ring lay in the pocket of her riding dress and felt warm and safe. As always, she was eager to touch it, but that would stop now.
Nora waved for Doug to stand beside her in the water. She reached into the pocket of her dress and lovingly ran her fingers over her memento of Simon once more. Then she took it out, let the sun shine on it — and then threw it far out into the sea.
Nora leaned against the man she loved as the waves splashed around her and in that moment, she was certain that she heard Simon’s gentle voice whisper a goodbye to her, before his spirit disappeared in the vastness of the Caribbean.
AFTERWORD
If it were so easy to flee, why didn’t all of the slaves do it?
The question arises when you read in this book — or in my case, in the research for this book — about how close the Maroon villages were to the whites’ cities and how little the slaves were guarded. It also kept the backras up at night back then. On every major plantation in Jamaica and the other islands, only one planter family and ten overseers came, as compared to the approximately 250 slaves — most of them young, strong men with access to either machetes or at least sharp kitchen knives. It would have been easy to overpower the whites, especially since their firearms hardly affected the balance of power. In the eighteenth century, they still used flintlock pistols or muskets that had to be reloaded after every shot. In a serious attack by the workforce, the overseer wouldn’t have had more than one shot — if he was slow, he might not even have had that.
