with perfect certainty that she would see him hanged, probably his body
then quartered to frighten the others, was more than she could endure.
His rebellion had no chance. What could he hope to do? Not even Ogun,
the powerful god of war, could overcome the _branco's_ weapons and
cunning. Or his contempt for any human with a trace of African blood.
Atiba had hinted that he and his men would somehow find muskets. But
where?
This afternoon, only hours ago, she had heard another signal cross the
island, the musket shots the _branco _had devised to sound an invasion
alert. Following that, many groups of cavalry had ridden past, headed
south. The sight of them had made her reflect sadly that Atiba and his
Yoruba warriors had no horses.
Afterward she had learned from the white servants that the soldiers of
the Ingles fleet had again invaded the island, this time on the
southern coast. This meant that all the Barbados militiamen surely must
be mobilized now. Every musket on the island would be in the hands of a
white. There would be no cache of guns to steal. Moreover, after the
battle--regardless of who won--the soldiers of the fleet would probably
help the militiamen hunt down Atiba and his men. No branco wanted the
island seized by African slaves.
Shango, stop them. Ogun has made them drunk for the taste of blood. But
the blood on their lips will soon be their own.
Slowly, sadly, she rose. She pulled her white shift about her, then
reached under the mat to retrieve the small wand she had stolen from
Atiba's hut. She untied the scarf she had wrapped around it and gazed
again at the freshly carved wood, the double axe. Then she held it to
her breast and headed, tiptoeing, down the creaking back stair. She had
no choice but to go. To the one place she knew she could find Shango.
"I say damn their letter." Benjamin Briggs watched as the mounted
messenger from Oistins disappeared into the dark, down the road between
the palms, still holding the white flag above his head. "I suppose
they'd now have us fall back and negotiate? When we've got the men and
horse ready to drive them into the sea."
"It's addressed to me, presumably a formality. Doubtless it's meant for
the entire Assembly." Bedford turned the packet in his hand and moved
closer to the candles on the table. "It's from Admiral Calvert."
The front room of Nicholas Whittington's plantation house was crowded
with officers of the militia. There were few helmets; most of the men
wore the same black hats seen in the fields. Muskets and bandoliers of
powder and shot were stacked in the comer. Intermittent gusts of the
night breeze washed the stifling room through the open shutters.
The afternoon's mobilization had brought together less than three
thousand men, half the militia's former strength. They had marched west
from Bridgetown at sunset, and now they were encamped on the
Whittington plantation grounds, in fields where tobacco once had grown.
The plantation was a thousand acre tract lying three miles to the
southwest of Anthony Walrond's lands, near the southern coast.
"Well, we've got a quorum of the Assembly here." Colonel George
Heathcott stepped forward, rubbing at his short beard. He was still
stunned by Anthony Walrond's defection to the Roundheads. "We can
formally entertain any last minute proposals they'd care to make."
"I trust this time the Assembly will discern treachery when they see
it," Briggs interjected. "I warned you this was likely to happen. When
you lose your rights, 'tis small matter whether you hand them over or
give them up at the point of a musket barrel. They're gone and that's
the end of it, either way."
"Aye, I'll wager there's apt to be a Walrond hand in this too,
regardless who authored it. Just another of his attempts to cozen the
honest men of this island." Tom Lancaster spat toward the empty
fireplace. He thought ruefully of the cane he had in harvest--five
hundred acres, almost half his lands, had been planted--and realized
that now the fate of his future profits lay with an untrustworthy
militia and the Assembly, half the voting members of which were men
with fewer than a dozen acres. "He's sold the future, and liberty, of
this island for forty pieces of silver."
"Or for the governorship," Heathcott interjected. "Mark it."
"Not so long as I've got breath." Briggs' complexion was deepening in
the candlelight as he began wondering what the Commonwealth's men would
do with his sugar. Confiscate it and ruin him in the bargain? "I say we
fight to the last man, no matter what."
Dalby Bedford finished scanning the letter and looked up. "I think we
should hold one last vote. There's . . ."
"What are the terms?" Briggs interrupted.
"They seem to be the same. I presume he thought we might surrender, now
that they've landed." Bedford hesitated. Was independence worth the
killing sure to ensue if they went to war--a war that had now become
planter against planter? "But it does appear he's willing to
negotiate."
"Then let's hear it." Briggs glanced about the room. "Though I'd have
every man here remember that we've got no guarantees other than
Calvert's word, and anything he consents to will still have to be
approved by Parliament."
"If you'll allow me, sir." Bedford motioned for quiet, then lifted a
candlestick from the table and held it over the parchment.
_"To the right honorable etc.
"My Lord--I have formerly sent you many Invitations to persuade you to
a fair compliance with that new Power which governs your Native
Country, thereby preserving yourself and all the Gent, of this island
from certain ruin, and this Island from that desolation which your, and
their, obstinacy may bring upon it.
"Although I have now been welcomed by a considerable part of the
Island, with my Commission published--that being to appoint your
Governor for the State of England--yet I am still the same reasonable
Man as before and hold forth the same grace and favor to you I formerly
did, being resolved no change of fortune shall change my nature. Thus I
invite you to accept this same Commission as the others have done--in
recognition that we each now possess considerable portions of this
noble Island. . . ."
_Briggs stepped forward. "I already see there's deceit in it. They hold
Oistins, not an acre more. With the men and horse we've got . . ."
"Let me read the rest." Bedford interrupted. "There're only a few lines
more." He lifted the candle closer and continued.
_"Therefore I am bound in Honour as well as good nature to endeavour
your preservations, to which purpose I have enclosed the Articles which
the Windward Regiment have accepted. If you have any Exceptions to
these Articles, let me know them by your commissioners and I shall
appoint fit persons to consider them. By ratifying this Negotiation you
will prevent further effusion of blood, and will preserve your Persons
and Estates from ruin.
"If you doubt mine own power to grant these Articles, know I shall
engage not only mine own but the Honour of the State of England which
is as much as can be required by any rational man. And so I rest,
Your Servant,