Seeking Eden Read online

  Kate winced. “How long hast thou been in Barbados?” she asked.

  But Patience did not know. “Three years? Four? I was in a bad place first, working in the fields a long time, loading cane onto carts. It was hard. But here the master and mistress are good. And there is Antony… When I am with Antony I remember my other life – my home – and I believe we can go there again.”

  Neither Kate nor I spoke in answer to this. It seemed to me impossible that they could ever go home.

  The next day was seventh-day, and I went into town, to the Merchants’ Exchange, with my master. We met up with several of the people he traded with, and he made deals and showed me how everything was done. I gathered that we were coming to the end of our stay on the island.

  On first-day John Crosbie did not go to Meeting in Michael’s Town, but gathered together all the house slaves and several of those who worked on the plantation, and held a meeting in his house, which we three also attended.

  As I looked around the circle of faces – John and Ann Crosbie, George Bainbrigg and Kate, a dozen or so slaves, including the black nursemaid holding the little boy on her lap – I had a sense that beneath the shared silence there was something unspoken. John Crosbie looked weary, drained, yet determined. His wife looked almost happy. The Negroes appeared variously respectful, serious, bored or fidgety according to their temperaments.

  The meeting settled, but I do not think it ever became gathered. When it was over, John shook hands not only with his wife and my master, who sat on either side of him, but afterwards with many of the Negroes; and some – Antony and Lucie among them – he even embraced. It seemed an unusually emotional way to end Meeting, and at the time I was surprised.

  But the following day I understood, because that day everything changed.

  Tokpa

  I am surprised when my master embraces me. I feel a sadness in it, like a farewell. But the Light in the meeting is powerful. It banishes the spells his enemies have laid on the house, and the mistress looks well again.

  That night I hear the drumming from the plantation village. It is strong and lively, and I know the people will be dancing. On first-day there is no work, so they dress up, they sing, they dance as they did at home. I go with Miata, Lucie, Reuben and Paul to the village. We join the dancing. There are people here from many places and we make new songs and new dances. When I dance my spirit comes alive in me; I feel free.

  Later I meet Miata in the yard. We go into the woodland and lie down together and make love. Miata will be my wife, even though I cannot offer bride-service to her father and have no home for her.

  We talk in whispers in our own language.

  Miata says, “They are up there on the balcony again – the young ones.”

  “Kiss and cuddle?”

  “Mmm…” She giggles.

  “Do you think they do what we do?”

  “You mean…?” She touches me.

  I pull her closer. “Yes. That’s what I mean.”

  She laughs softly in my ear. “I don’t think so. Too many clothes. He can’t get in.”

  “But he’d like to!”

  “Oh, yes. They are looking and touching all the time. But they must wait. It’s the way with their people. I think they can have no joy in it.”

  “We have joy,” I say, “even here, in this demon-land. Miata?”

  “Mmm?”

  “One day we’ll be free.”

  “Mmm.”

  “We’ll go home.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Go home to our people.”

  “Our people.”

  We rock with the rhythm of the words. We’ve said them before, many times. It’s like a song we sing together.

  “Miata, when we go home, when we find your father, I will offer him bride-service; I will work for him. You will be my wife, and we will have a celebration in your village.”

  “I wait for that day. I keep it in my heart.”

  Sixteen

  On second-day morning my master and I went over the books together, looking at the trade we had done at the Exchange in Michael’s Town; how many hogsheads of sugar, rum and molasses were to be stowed in the hold of the Frances; how much profit he had made.

  “And there’s more to come,” he said, closing the account book. “John and I have some business to settle. Once that’s done we’ll sail for Philadelphia.”

  I attached no significance to that remark at the time. But all too soon I came to understand the nature of the business he was referring to. That afternoon, when I was on my way to join him and Kate on the veranda on the cool side of the house, there came a sudden cry – a woman’s voice, raised in a wail that shook me to the heart.

  The sound came from the kitchen. I raced down there, and burst in to see Lucie on her knees, her hands raised to John Crosbie, who stood looking awkward and unhappy. Tears were rolling down Lucie’s face. Antony stood as if in shock. Patience and a kitchen maid were crying with their arms around each other.

  The moment I came into the room Patience broke away, ran to me and threw herself at my feet, lifting her tear-blotched face to mine. “Oh, please, young master,” she begged, “don’t take us away!”

  “What…?” I was bewildered. “Patience, get up, please!”

  But she stayed there. “Master says … we must go … go in the ship…” She became inarticulate, gulping back tears.

  I caught John Crosbie’s eye, but he was taken up with trying to calm Lucie, who seemed almost hysterical. Overwhelmed by all this, I backed away, and fled to the upper part of the house. Kate was already with her father on the veranda. I knew they had heard the sounds, for Kate was standing up and looked alarmed, and I guessed he had prevented her from running to the kitchen.

  “What’s happening?” I demanded. In my turmoil I forgot to address my master in the usual respectful manner. “Patience says we are taking her away, and Lucie is on her knees, crying, and John—”

  “Sit down, Josiah,” he said – so sternly that I obeyed and was silent. “Thou should not have gone down there.”

  Although the wails had subsided, we could still hear sobbing and pleading, mixed with John Crosbie’s calm, placatory voice.

  “Pay no attention,” my master said. “It is not for us to interfere.”

  “But – what is happening?” I demanded again.

  “John has sold the plantation and will return to England within the month – as I told thee he probably would. The new owner has bought the plantation slaves and one or two of the house slaves, but he does not want them all. John needs to sell the others separately. Naturally they are distressed.”

  “Sell them?” And then I understood. “This is that other business thou spoke of? Thou agreed to buy them?”

  “Yes.”

  “But – I thought thou did not want slaves.”

  “I’m buying them to sell. It relieves John of the burden, and since slaves are scarce in Pennsylvania I can sell them easily there, and make a profit.”

  “A profit?” I felt sickened. These were people. “Who? Which ones?”

  He ticked them off on his fingers: “Lucie; her son, Paul; Antony; the nursemaid, Rebecca; and the chambermaid, Patience. Five in all.”

  I thought of Antony, his look of utter shock, and imagined how bereft and frightened he must feel now.

  “How can John sell Antony?” I said. “He is fond of him, I know. He was teaching him…”

  “There will be no place for Antony in England,” my master said. “It’s for the best. I will find them all new masters in Pennsylvania. If they stayed here they would probably end up as plantation slaves, working in the fields. John wanted to avoid that. And he wants Lucie and her son to be sold together. He will be trying to reassure her of that now.”

  “Dad,” Kate said urgently, “thou must not split up Patience and Antony, either. They love each other.”

  “I will not split up any of them if I can help it. If I can sell them all to one wealthy settler I wil
l be pleased.”

  I sat down. I felt shaken.

  “The Negroes are easily stirred up,” my master said, “but it will soon pass. They are bound to be afraid of change. John has been a good master and they are happy here. But he won’t stay, so there is nothing else to be done.” His manner became brisk. “I went on board the ship when I was in Michael’s Town the other day, and saw Richard Grey and checked the wind and tides. We can leave at noon on fourth-day.”

  The day after tomorrow. It had all been planned. While Kate and I dallied in the garden, our elders were making arrangements to stow slaves among the hogsheads of sugar on board the Frances.

  Our last two days on the island were busy; and I was glad of it, for the atmosphere in the house was strained – both the Crosbies and the slaves subdued and unhappy, and my master aware of my dismay at the turn of events.

  “I hate this business,” I told him, when we were private together. “I want no part in it.”

  I thought he’d be angry, but he merely sighed and said, “Thy compassion does thee credit, Jos. But thou must understand that from both John Crosbie’s and the Negroes’ point of view this is the lesser of two evils.”

  “Thou agree it is an evil trade, then?”

  “No! I spoke loosely. I meant only the choice between servitude in Pennsylvania or in Barbados.” He walked to the window and looked out at the landscape. On this side the view was of trees partially screening the sheds and boiling-house of the manufactory; and, beyond it, fields of sugar cane and row after row of distant figures cutting and binding. “The slave trade is both necessary and lawful. My conscience is clear that I may engage in it as long as I deal fairly with others.”

  “I did not mean to question thy honour,” I said.

  “I know that. And thou’rt right to think about these matters, for we are all answerable before God for our own actions. But as to the business in hand: remember that thou’rt bound apprentice to me and must obey my lawful commands.”

  “I will,” I said. But although I respected my master I was no happier about the trade.

  The next day, the two of us went to Michael’s Town, to the harbour, and I became once again involved in the process of gauging – assessing by eye and experience how much could be stowed in the hold. But this time it was different: space was needed for five Negroes to sleep below, “in due decency”, as my master put it, which meant there must be a screened latrine bucket for the women, and a bowl for washing, and males and females must be separated.

  I remembered the slave ship Betty and I had seen from the deck of the Promise; remembered the smell that came from it on the wind. The people we were to carry on the Frances had all experienced that unimaginable passage across the Atlantic Ocean. They must dread setting foot on a ship again.

  “We won’t keep them below?” I asked; and was much relieved when he exclaimed, “Of course not! What we have here is space for them to sleep. During the day they may remain on deck as much as they wish, provided they give no trouble. But in any case, we have only one man. Women are generally docile and are always allowed on deck.”

  Despite this, I noticed that some of the crew had fixed netting around the sides of the ship, above the rail, and guessed that this was to foil any attempt at escape – or suicide.

  Having helped make space for the Negroes, I was then set to gauging the remaining capacity, and performed quite well, my master said, given my inexperience. I could see that the addition of five slaves considerably decreased the storage space. It was clear that we could have bought more goods if this sale had not arisen, and I understood why my master was concerned to make maximum profit from the slaves: they were an expensive and troublesome cargo.

  I found the whole process disturbing, and said so to Kate when I managed to meet her in the garden on the last evening at the Crosbie house. We walked around among the sweet-scented flowers and English roses, but I was no longer in the mood to idle away our time in the arbour seat by the pool. And as if the weather caught my mood, a wind sprang up and ruffled the surface of the water and made the arbour an uncomfortable place to linger. We both felt low-spirited. Perhaps it was simply that the charm of the house and garden was broken now that its foundation in slavery was revealed. The weight of the coming voyage, with the Negroes we had befriended held captive on board, hung over us.

  “It’s wrong, Kate,” I said. “Against the whole spirit of Pennsylvania, surely?”

  “But Dad is not like the slave-drivers who beat and shackle Negroes. He is always kind and careful of their welfare.”

  “Yes – because if he was not, his profit would be less.”

  “That’s unfair!” She looked hurt. “My father does not think only of profit. He wants to help his friend John Crosbie, and he is the best person to do it because he can take the Negroes away from Barbados and the plantations and find them better masters in Pennsylvania.”

  “Thou’rt blinded by love for him,” I said – and immediately regretted my words, for her eyes flashed and she retorted, “I am not! He is a good man. Thou’rt wrong, Jos. This is for the best – the best thing he can do.”

  I put my arms around her. “I’m sorry, Kate – sorry. I know he’s a good man. Don’t let’s quarrel. Only it’s hard – the gauging, the nets going up around the ship’s sides…”

  She was stiff at first, still angry; but then she said, “I hate it, too. I knew it happened, but until now my father has always kept it out of my sight. He never carried slaves on the ship when I was with him.”

  “And thou didn’t know the slaves.”

  “No. I feel now how wrong it is. I’ve been talking to Patience. She’s afraid Dad will separate her and Antony, but I told her he would not do such a thing. I’m sure he will not.”

  “I must speak to Antony,” I said.

  We walked back together, and I left her at the door and went around the side of the house to the yard, where Antony was chopping wood. The blows of the axe fell steadily and his gaze was fixed on the job in hand. There had been no tears, no outcry from him.

  “Antony…” I said.

  “Master…” – he corrected himself – “Josiah…”

  His look was sombre. He put down the axe.

  “I am sorry,” I said. “Sorry thou must leave this place. I didn’t know what my master intended. I … I had no idea of it.”

  “John Crosbie tells me not to be afraid,” he said. “He tells me it is good that Friend George takes us away from this island.”

  “I believe he may be right.”

  “Josiah, the place thou come from…”

  “Pennsylvania.”

  “No, not there. England. My master says all of you – himself, his wife, Friend George, you – come from England?”

  “Yes. England is our home.”

  “And there are no slaves in England? Some of the people in the plantation village say when a man sets foot on English soil he is free.”

  “That may be true,” I said. “I believe no Englishman can be a slave.” I had a feeling it might be written in law, one of the ancient laws of England, though I had no proof.

  He nodded agreement. “I want to go to England. John Crosbie showed me your island on his picture that he says is an image of the world. I know if I step ashore on that island I will be free – free to go home.” To my distress I saw that his eyes had filled with tears. “I asked John Crosbie to take me back with him to England,” he said. “Me, and Patience, to be his servants. I begged him. I fell on my knees…”

  “Antony…” I felt his despair as if it were my own.

  “He says he can take none of us with him – that there is no place for us there. But I will find a way. I will become free, and then I will go home.”

  I knew it could not be that simple. Surely he’d be captured and sent back? It was true, I felt sure, that no one was allowed to keep slaves in England, but who knew what went on in the docks, in the big ports where the ships of the Atlantic trade came in? Slavery was hidden in m
y country. I’d known almost nothing of it, and yet I realized now that all my life English ships had been taking slaves from Africa to America and sailing home laden with sugar, rum and molasses: a seemingly innocent cargo.

  “Antony,” I said, “ I don’t know how this can be done; I don’t know if it’s possible. But I will be thy friend; I’ll stand by thee. I won’t let any harm come to thee or Patience.”

  It was a rash promise, since I had no power, and he must guess that. But it made a bond between us.

  Seventeen

  On the day of our departure George Bainbrigg and I were at the harbour early to oversee the lading. My master gave directions to the crew about how the goods should be stowed, while I checked each cask and hogshead and noted its weight and value. Last in were some straw-filled palliasses for the Negroes to sleep on, and cloths to hang up as screens.

  I would have enjoyed this work had it not been for my misgivings about transporting the Negroes, for my master allowed me to take charge under his supervision and trusted me to make accurate records, and I was encouraged by his confidence in me.

  Our human cargo arrived later, brought by the estate manager in a cart driven by Reuben, who was to be sold later with the plantation. They looked a sorry little group: forlorn and apprehensive – Antony and Patience close together, Lucie holding on to her son as if afraid he could be snatched from her at any moment, and the sad-faced nursemaid, Rebecca. Rebecca had been distraught at the prospect of leaving the children, Kate had said, and begged to be taken to England with the family, but they had refused her; they wanted no reminder of their unhappy Caribbean venture.

  We sent the Negroes on board, where Richard Grey and the crew took charge of them. While my master went aboard, I was despatched to the Yates’ house near by to fetch Kate, who had been waiting there while our preparations were made.

  “How are things on the ship?” she asked, in a low, urgent voice, as soon as we were alone on the street.

  “Very well. We are fully laden and will leave within the hour—”