A Slave Amongst Equals

Nevertheless, the signs were there. There was no denying it. Alice curled up in bed and pondered the situation. She changed her mind and decided that in fact she could - and would deny it.

* * * *

Ndulue was feeling desolate beyond anger. He had been told that the weekly slave auctions had featured his Omolade.

Now with her back covered in fresh wounds and her belly distended with child, Omolade had been sold to a trader. She had been made to stand still while the man had removed her loincloth, felt her tender breasts, had prodded her belly and even shoved his hand between her legs. Tears had trickled down her cheeks but held by a wooden yoke she had no choice but to submit. Hetherington-Smythe had looked pleased with his profit and bought two new young male slaves for the fields. He could not wait a few years for productive labourers, the harvest was imminent.

Now Ndulue was watching the plantation house. He sat quite still on a high bough of a tree close to the trunk and would remain there all day. The plantation owner was proudly holding the arm of his pregnant wife as they walked across the lawns.

The woman was heavy with child and he felt his own pride stirring at the sight. He had done his work well, the woman had come to him to satisfy herself in her bored and pointless life. He had never pestered or tried to seduce her as if she were a nervous virgin giggling in the presence of her first boyfriend. Soon the life of her husband would be destroyed and then his revenge would be complete. It was a shame that her life would also suffer but that would be the price of being the wife of an owner. He had little sympathy.

She was foolish and had been duped completely by his pretence of being frightened witless. He could have taken her at any moment if he had wished but that was not his way and it would not have achieved his aim. His will was as rock, he would not be swayed from his path by sentimentality.

That night Ndulue climbed down from the tree and crept down to the dockside where the slave trader kept an old warehouse. He knew that it was used to keep the captives, either until the next auction or until they were taken away from that island. The forthcoming transportation of Omolade to another part of the world was a risk he could not take.

At the back of the shed he found a rotten board that he managed to prise away. Having gained entry he found Omolade in the gloom with a simple shackle and chain for restraint. It didn't take him long to find a metal bar which he used to force the rusty shackle apart. The slaver had not invested in an expensive chain, he had not thought that a lone pregnant female would be capable of a serious attempt to escape.

Omolade removed her loincloth and left it for the dogs to find. They squeezed out of the hole left by the broken plank and soon were running from shadow to shadow naked through the streets. Across the fields and through hedges they went until they reached the shelter of the forest.

They came to the bank of the river that had cut the inlet where the port was built. It tumbled from the slopes and they waded upstream, the clear water washing away the stink of her incarceration. Metaphorically and literally she was cleansed the further they travelled. He helped her through the deeper parts where she had to swim and over the boulders where she could have fallen. Now they were both unclothed they were safer from pursuers and could relax, thus making faster time.

He would not take her to the pool where he had had his assignations with Mrs. Hetherington-Smythe but there were many similar places and also a burrow where he had scraped out a shelter underneath a fallen tree during the time since his escape. That was a place where they would be well concealed.

But first he took her right to the very summit of the mountain where the trees did not grow and the full moon provided a link to the rest of the universe. There, witnessed by the spirits of the earth and sky they performed the ancient ritual of union.

He strutted before her, stamping on the soil to show his strength and jumping high to demonstrate his energy and his remarkable penis. In return she performed the dance of seduction, shaking her bare buttocks and bouncing her firm breasts. After an energetic introduction, she slowed, swaying with all of her allure to entice him. She raised her arms to elevate her breasts to the highest extent and lowered her body all the way to the ground with legs apart to show how flexible she was and what a joy she would be to fuck.

Even though she was carrying the fruit of another man's loins, he honoured her with his body. She accepted his homage and exerted the firm grip that encouraged him to seal the occasion.

When dawn broke they lay down to sleep in each other's arms. Both were completely spent.

* * * *

Several weeks passed and her time came. Ndulue crept back down to the slave cabins and spoke to one of the old women there. He showed her the route up the hill and left her with Omolade to deliver the baby. It was not his place to stay there, the woman was experienced in childbirth and had helped to deliver several babies already. The little one would be presented to him for naming in due course; this child would be born free regardless of the circumstances that had led to the situation.

The baby turned out to be a little girl with big eyes and an even bigger smile and Ndulue named her 'Idaramfon', which meant 'happy and free'. Really it should have been Henry Hetherington-Smythe's duty to choose the name but to his shame and in his absence, someone had to perform the role. In due course, the midwife was led back to the cabin without even being missed. Mother and baby were doing well.

* * * *

Alice approached the time of her own confinement. Preparations were made, with a spare bedroom converted into a nursery. Henry was proud of his forthcoming fatherhood and things were finally looking up in his world. His wife - who normally turned a cold shoulder in bed - had on several occasions actually initiated marital relations.

It had started some months previously. One night, purely at random when he had retired to his bed, Alice had reached out to him and fondled his body until he was in a suitable state to satisfy her. It was not only unexpected; it was incredible, better even than his wedding night. No wonder she had quickly become pregnant. After that, her enthusiasm had diminished but that was only to be expected given her condition. Doubtlessly after the birth, she would rediscover her desire to be a dutiful wife.

Perhaps he had a future here on this island after all; recently he had been considering his options. He hadn't been happy, he could admit to himself. Profits were minimal and he had seen little future in his commercial venture or in his marriage. But now he was even starting to get over the runaway slave. When Tom had run off it had nearly been the last straw but his current feeling of bonhomie was even masking that miserable episode.

It was nothing personal, he assured himself. A number of slaves had escaped recently, even one owned by the trader at the harbour warehouse - by coincidence the girl that he had himself recently sold. It was something to be expected really, it was a fact of life.

At least he didn't have to bury the body like those who just lay down and died to escape their lot. Slaves were of a strange race who could simply convince themselves to die. That weird black magic they practised was dangerous stuff.

So Alice's labour started and she took to her bed. The local doctor was summoned and after a thorough examination, he proclaimed that everything was fine. Alice was strong and healthy. True to his word, within a few hours Alice was delivered of a beautiful baby boy.

The infant was well-endowed, as the nurse noted before swaddling him in a blanket. He was cleaned and presented without a word to the proud husband beaming with contentment and who did not notice the midwife's silence and wide-eyed expression. Henry melted at the sound of the infant's wail but did not notice the abundance of dark curly hair, the deep brown eyes and coffee-brown skin for a long, long minute.

No-one uttered a word.

Then it dawned on him.

His first-born was a mulatto, a mule, a half-breed. In fact he wasn't even sure what was the correct word, he had never heard of any white woman ever giving birth to such a child. Such babies were always born of white men with a slave or a freed-woman mistress.

The undisputed fact was that he had been cuckolded by a slave. Either an ex-slave or a current one, it didn't matter. It was the same thing.

Henry Hetherington-Smythe staggered backwards into a convenient armchair. The nurse carefully gathered back the child and returned him to Alice who was overwhelmed by an instant and all-encompassing love for her offspring. It was an all-consuming devotion to the exclusion of all else, an emotion that she had never expected.

Henry, being unable to speak went downstairs to his study and opened a bottle of rum. Soon that was finished and he opened another. The following day the maid found him lying on the floor with soiled clothing.

He was carried to his room, undressed, washed and left to sober up. When he had recovered his senses he challenged his wife but found that Alice had transformed from a meek and subservient English wife into a she-wolf defending her young. As soon as he tried to speak to her, she snapped back. He tried a reasonable tone, he tried yelling at her. He even tried wheedling, but he could get nothing from her. She told him to mind his own business, to keep out of her way and not to interfere.

What did she mean? Of course it was his business. She was his wife; the boy was not his son.

Alice did not deny what may have occurred, but she did not admit anything either. She would not let him hold the baby again nor even look at him closely. The reality of the conception had hit home but she was still in denial as to the consequences.

Henry was equally confused. He had no idea how to deal with this predicament, had never heard of anything like this in his entire life. He had no particular desire to see the child, indeed he was repelled by the entire situation.

He had heard of ladies falling pregnant out of wedlock, of course. Some with other women's husbands, some after liaisons with priests or in situations that they simply would not explain. There were all sorts of social conventions on how to deal with ladies in that condition, usually involving the exchange of cash and the temporary disappearance of the woman and child. There were places where they could go; workhouses, convents, and homes for fallen women - even colonies for the mentally deficient for when a permanent solution was required.

Perhaps that last option was the most suitable. He might send her back to England and find a doctor who would be equally astonished at her proclivity. Alice would be signed into such an institution without argument. That would unquestionably be easy enough especially with some small financial contribution - a woman who had been impregnated by a Negro could hardly be considered to be sane. She would be locked up for the rest of her natural life without any visitors.

Who could the father be? There was a small number of freedmen on the island but none would ever be considered a suitable person for an Englishwoman to even have an extramarital affair with. That was a stupid point anyway; no Negro could ever be suitable. It was not a matter of immediate concern anyway, what was important was to get her off the island.

Firstly he had to get her onto a ship bound for home. If possible, without anybody else becoming aware, or else he would be the subject of the most embarrassing gossip and conjecture. That would be totally unacceptable. The child could be disposed of by being given to the slaves to raise, and it would obviously be sold at the earliest opportunity.

Henry thought of all his friends who had known that Alice was expecting. Some might know exactly what had happened, others would enquire as to the progress of the pregnancy. He broke into a cold sweat.

One thing was clear though, he had all the power in as much he held the purse strings. She could do nothing without money and of that she had none.

Days passed. No visitors were admitted to the house and hardly a word was spoken between husband and wife. Not even the house slaves broke the stony silence, not even church was attended on Sunday.

On the seventh day, Henry sat down with Alice and explained what he had decided. Alice was not impressed.

In fact, Alice was horrified. The notion of her baby being placed into slavery and herself packed off back to an English lunatic asylum, a 'Bedlam', was inconceivable. She hadn't seriously thought of how Henry might react but this was a shock and it would be the end of her life. People paid money to be taken on guided tours of those institutions for their entertainment and they rattled the bars of the cells to make the inmates howl and gibber even more. Those poor souls eventually died without ever being heard of again. Pauper's graves littered the back yards of all such places.

That night Alice gathered the baby still unnamed and fled out of the house. Into the dark she ran, terrified and wearing just her nightgown. Along the path, the gravel rough underfoot, then across the fields between the rows of cane with the grass softer on her feet in the moonlight, she fled with the infant safely in her arms.

She knew the way up the hillside to the waterfall so without any plan for the future that's where she went. There, in the light of the bright stars above she pulled her clothing from her shoulders and fed the boy.

* * * *

In the still air of the night, Ndulue was awoken by the sound of a person running. The person was not afraid of being heard; twigs cracked without heed. No-one was in pursuit but there was panic in the feet. Then a baby started to cry as the pace slowed and stopped. A minute later the baby stilled.

The noises were faint but his ears were attuned to any signs of a hunt. He lay still alongside Omolade and the infant Idaramfon, listening intently but there were no more disturbances. Intrigued, he rose and silently made his way towards the sounds. He took with him a simple spear that he had fashioned from a sapling for defence, but as he drew closer he perceived that the baby was making sounds of contentment. He determined that the position was at the waterfall but he was puzzled. Only Mrs. Hetherington-Smythe ever went there.

He slithered like a lizard on his belly on the final approach and studied the scene through the foliage. It was indeed that woman, sitting silhouetted against the white water of the waterfall behind her and the reflection of the spray across her body. Her scanty clothes were around her waist and her newborn - his own first-born child, was feeding at her breast.

Silently he continued, inching forwards until he managed to sit alongside her. She was still unaware of his presence as she studied the suckling baby's contented face

He held the spear upright and then at last with that movement she noticed him. Alarmed, Alice lurched away to the side and in her consternation caught her clothing on a branch. There was a loud rip and she found that she was caught fast on the tree. Ndulue remained motionless to allow her to identify him in the half-light.

Alice gasped at the recognition as the baby cried out at the disturbance. Now in charge of the situation, Ndulue enquired as to the reason why she was on the mountain. She found it disconcerting to be questioned by a Negro, but she kept quiet as she realised that he was capable of providing the assistance that she desperately needed.

So Alice explained what had happened, and after making quite sure that she was indeed unaccompanied he disconnected her nightdress from the thorns and led her across the mountainside to his tiny camp. He could not let his own child to be sold into slavery if he could at all avoid it.

Alice was astonished to be reacquainted with Eve, her house-slave. The two Negroes explained their circumstances as Omolade tended to Alice's feet which were bleeding from her flight. She was also appraised of their correct names, which she had never heard previously. They tore strips from the hem of the nightdress to bandage the cuts, knotting the top part together so that Alice could continue wearing it and maintain some level of modesty. Ndulue tried to convince her to discard the garment completely to protect them from the dogs but that she refused. She could not yet abandon all symbols of civilisation and live naked as a savage.

* * * *

Ndulue was in a quandary. He could survive for a long time armed with only his wits on the mountain. He could catch animals and fish to eat, there was plentiful fruit as well as wood for cooking fuel. However having to support two women, each with a child made this an unrealistic long-term prospect. He needed assistance and a permanent solution.

He also had to extend his area of operation otherwise they would create too much disturbance and make detection inevitable. He determined to explore deeper in the forestry than he had ever been before, but first, the ceremony to name his son and heir was held.

With a pang of regret he thought of his own father. What joy it would have been to present his grandson to him, but it could never be. He didn't even know where his father was living or even if he was still alive. Ndulue chose the name Maduka for his son - 'Worth more than any riches'.

They set off leaving their impromptu camp behind, but with the women each carrying an infant in their arms, they could not easily go any distance. Omolade resolved that issue by swiftly ripping away the remains of the top of Alice's nightdress and forming two slings that wrapped around the shoulders to carry the children. Alice was left with only a tiny skirt and was now bare-breasted but the job was done before she could protest.

Trekking through the day, they eventually found themselves on a different part of the island where none had ever explored before and where the virgin forestry was even more dense. Progress was now slow, especially as Ndulue insisted on frequent stops so that he could survey the land. At nightfall, he found some fruit and they settled down together to eat.

One thing struck Ndulue, he had been correct in his assessment of Alice. She was able to nourish both babies and she sat with a baby on each breast whilst Omolade bathed in a nearby stream. His woman had but one breast that was productive, the one that had been so cruelly burned with the hot branding iron was barren.

Ndulue did not remain settled for long. Suddenly he jumped up and looked about, to the concern of both women. Gesturing for them to keep quiet, he indicated that there was a strange smell. Sure enough, they could smell smoke drifting through the trees. There were people close by.

He dropped to the ground and crawled off to investigate, leaving the others behind. It took a few hours for him to return, by which time the sun had set once again. He told them to accompany him, there was no need for discretion.

* * * *

To her surprise, Alice found herself in a whole village of escapees - Maroons - living in the hills. It was well established with many inhabitants who had clearly been there for many months - perhaps years. Huts had been built, there were crops growing and even chickens being kept. Assured that the place was quite safe from discovery, the small group accepted the offer of a proper meal and a place to stay. And so it was that Alice found herself living in the forestry with a community of fugitives.