'Though still physically weak, the captain's course was set by a strong spirit and a willed determination to have this thing done. As we returned from Mam's, he instructed me to call an assembly and bring forth the prisoner. I sent out the word, and–jubilantly–we prepared for our trial, our hanging and our banquet (in that proper order, of course). 'Though wigless, I was prepared to act the part of prosecutor and set forth the evidence. But the captain, he was judge, and he said he knew what had occurred and, mayhaps, the whys of it. And there'd be no need for jury. If there was an injured party, it was him; and he would deal with the matter direct.
Without explanation to the rest of us, he called to the black bucks and wenches to gather 'round him, and began to interrogate them. In particular, he meant to know which among them could converse with this rogue slave: which had understood his palaver, which knew of his tribe. It came out that Reena was the lass who knew the most of this buck. 'Twas she who'd gained his confidence and conversed with him. Her tribe was not far distant from his, in Africa, and their tongue was near the same.
Reena! Shy, and yet coquettish little Reena! None of the lads had made any headway with this wench. Still, there was something about this buck that captured her attention–and sparked her interest.
"Dis boy's name be Orke," Reena told the captain, "an' he been real bad used by da white man. Da anger in him be purely seethin' out. But I know he be a good boy. He be a sweet boy."
The captain took special note of this last remark, and told Reena to sit aside him, take her time and tell him what she knew of this Orke. The story she related to the captain and the rest of us, described Orke's journey from heaven to hell: from a respected place as a young but accomplished warrior, through the trials of transport–the pain and degradation–that led him to this place, this day. Those of the white race sat and listened, mostly slackjawed. Most all this was new to them–and disturbing. And it seemed the more ironic to hear such distressing tales from such sweet lips; realizing full well that even the teller–the bashful and angelic Reena–had experienced the same horrors, first hand.
As to the blackies in attendance: they sat listening, somberly. As one bad experience after another was told, you'd see some nod knowingly. Others might emit a low groan. Eventually, many were in tears–weeping openly and unashamedly. I knew that for the captain and meself, the story of Orke was a human tragedy much similar to that of Mam' Tiére. When I discussed this day's considerable events with the captain, late that eve, he told me there'd been a moment of revelation for him: when he realized for the first time, it probably was the same for most all the blackies seated afore him.
When Reena had finished her tale, the captain commanded that the slave, Orke, be brought before him and seated next to Reena. Still sturdily manacled and hobbled, Orke appeared to be a man shrouded in doom. His anger dissipated, he displayed the resignation of a condemned man. The captain instructed Reena to explain to Orke (as best she could) what he was about to say.
He looked directly to Orke and spake slowly and calmly. "I understand, as well as any white man can, all that you've experienced and suffered through since you were stolen from your homeland."
After this–and at varying points, therefrom–the captain gave pause to allow Reena to explain the substance of his words, to Orke.
Then he continued. "And because of all this, I understand your humiliation as a captive, your anger as a man, and your savage response as a warrior. Were I you, I would feel and do as much–as so would any man you see here. Therefore, 'though you attacked me and attempted to halt me life, I cannot blame you–I cannot hate you. What I can do is free you!"
Here, the captain paused longer, to be certain Reena explained fully, and Orke understood. While she spake, the captain watched Orke's face, as did I. Just as she was completing her translation, I saw Orke's eyes come alive! No doubt, it was this talk of freedom that sparked him.
And I believe this was the captain's intent. For he pursued this course when he continued, "But the doing is not as simple as the saying. Were I to simply let you walk away, where would you go? There is no way back to Africa from here! And any civilized place we might set you down would end you back in the slave trade. Could you fend for yourself alone, on some other island? Methinks not against the wild natives about. Or should you stay here, on Nemusmar? You do not know our ways or our purpose. And I'm doubtful it is safe for us to simply turn you loose.
"So. Orke is it? Well then, Orke, I've a proposition for you. For the upcoming month, you shall be detained on Nemusmar. We'll need to confine you to quarters, for your safety and ours, but all shackles shall be removed. We lost Kettle last month, and his place is available. 'Tis small, but'll afford you a good deal more room than the larder.
"Reena, aided by Mr. Crockett, Mam' Tiére and others, as I designate, will provide you with food, clothes and other necessaries. Working through Reena, the others will instruct you in our ways and our law; and I'll advise you to learn our tongue. At the end of the month, we shall reconvene to complete the particulars of me proposition, and you'll be required to make a choice; whether to leave this place and be put down at a safe harbour, never to return to Nemusmar, or to accept our 'offer' to join our company and share equally in all our endeavours. Should you decide to join, I'll put it to those you see here assembled to accept or deny your membership."
So, over the next month, 'twas me primary duty to attend Orke on a near daily basis. With freedom in his mind, he grew more comfortable with us, every day. And Reena was there all day long, every day. She took on the responsibilities of teacher, cook, nurse, "mother" and more. Inside a fortnight, she was staying over with Orke, every night. Thus, I knew long afore the appointed time of decision, Orke would be staying amongst us.
Chapter VIII
The Master Plan
Annalea, Princess of Nemusmar Page 9
