Read Spirited Away - A Novel of the Stolen Irish Online
Authors: Maggie Plummer
As
she helped Birdie carry the crock of mush to the cart, Freddy could hear
Paulina crooning. "Say 'good-bye mamma,'" she was telling Laurie, a
cat grin on her face.
*
Freddy
stepped inside Father Sean's candlelit hut.
"A
hundred thousand welcomes to you!" the priest said.
"Bless
you, Father." She greeted him with a kiss on his cheek, took Laurie from
his sling, and wiped raindrops from his little face. Thank the Lord her babe
was safe, and back in her arms. When she and Birdie had returned to the
cookhouse this afternoon, they'd found Mrs. Pratt alone, with Laurie napping
peacefully beside her.
"Let's
sit." Father Sean lifted the rum bottle and looked at her, lifting his
eyebrows.
"Ah,
you're an angel sent from above." Holding Laurie close, she settled into
one of the wooden chairs the priest had made. Then she raised her cup to Father
Sean and sipped. "Father, the Coromantees have been meeting in the slave
cemetery."
"That
does not surprise me." They both kept their voices to a whisper.
"Why?"
She leaned forward.
"They
are strong, fearless, called dangerous. Some want to outlaw them. It is said
that they never stop trying to run away. They execute mutinies aboard slavers,
and commit suicide to escape."
"What
if they are caught meeting?"
The
priest shook his head. "The planters would be merciless. Something is
afoot, though. Word is, the slaves in the southern parishes are waiting for the
next storm to revolt. The Bowles Plantation is the worst, ignoring starving
slaves while serving a gluttonous feast for the governor…"
Freddy
rubbed her sleeping babe's back and waited for Father Sean to continue.
"Nathan
Pease, the Quaker freighter, hauled leftover food from that feast. He was
ordered to dispose of it far from the grounds. The waste filled his wagon, he
said – meat, oysters, puddings. He tossed as much as he could to the famished
slaves who followed him on the road. They scurried for scraps in the mud, he
said…"
"God
love him," Freddy whispered, shaking her head.
"Rebellions
are nigh impossible here because of the militia, and there is almost nowhere to
hide. The Quakers write letters protesting slave conditions, but are
ignored."
"Who
are these Quakers?" she asked.
"Radical
Christians. They believe that all people are equal in the sight of God. They've
helped our people escape to Montserrat, where Catholicism is tolerated."
"Let
us go there, Father," she murmured, barely audible.
"We
will," he whispered. "But there is much to be arranged first, with
the Africans and with the French pirates…"
Freddy
thought about the rainy season pirate raids.
"Dika
was seen in Port Royal, in buccaneer clothing," the priest was saying.
"Dika?
Do you think it was her?" But Freddy's mind had already leapt to Colin. It
seemed like years since he had floated away on the moonlit sea.
"I
don't know," Father Sean whispered.
Laurie
sighed as he dozed, and she hugged him again.
"I
made something for you." The priest got up, went over to a shelf and
picked up a rosary.
"For
me?"
Father
Sean just smiled and handed it to her.
Freddy
fingered the hand-carved wooden beads, then beamed at him. "Truly, you are
an angel, sent here to help us…" She put the rosary around her neck and
patted the crucifix. "I will cherish it forever. Thank you, Father."
"Ye're
most welcome, Freddy. Keep it close and use it well."
"Father…may
I speak of a personal matter?"
"Of
course, child."
She
cleared her throat. "Is it a sin to love Kofi without being married?"
"You
were ordered to live with him…"
"But
our love runs far beyond orders, may God forgive me."
The
priest rubbed his white beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps I could perform a baptism
and marriage…"
"Oh
yes!" She sat up straighter.
"But…he
speaks no English?"
"None."
"He
would understand none of it, and that would make it wrong," Father Sean
said softly.
Freddy
slumped and covered her face. He lifted her hand. "These are difficult
circumstances, macushla." The priest smiled into her worried eyes.
"May you please each other like the stars do their Creator. God wants you
to be happy."
"Thank
you, Father." She took a deep breath. "There is something else…"
He
waited.
"I
wish to confess." She gulped.
"Pray
continue, under the Seal of the Confessional." In the candlelight he
leaned forward and crossed himself.
"Today
Mrs. Pratt slapped my babe's hand and scolded him, and ordered me to leave him
with her and Paulina," Freddy whispered. "I hate them! I go mad with
fury. My hands grow strong and I imagine throttling them all. My ill temper is
a mortal sin, may God strike me dumb. But when they force me…when they take
away my own son…" Her voice broke and she lowered her head.
"With
the help of God and prayer, ye'll only think on the killing, my girl. Ye're
blessed with the fierce passion of a good mother, is all. Never fear, Freddy,
God has also given ye the strength of a thousand winds…"
CHAPTER
20
September
1654
Birdie,
already big with Kazoola's child, slowed the cart to a bumpy crawl through deep
puddles. The sun was finally out after three days of hard rain. It seemed to
cook the muddy lane, filling the sweet-scented air with clouds of steam. The
two young women rolled along, the skirts of their white shifts drenched from
rubbing against the tall cane that crowded alongside the path. They had almost
reached the field when Birdie pointed down the terraced hill toward the sea.
Along the coast road, Master's elegant white carriage careened, his team of
silver-speckled horses gleaming in the midday sun.
Through
one carriage window, Freddy spotted Millicent's blond curls bouncing wildly.
She fervently hoped never to set eyes on those curls again. Smiling to herself,
Freddy thought of the thick pad of stationary and three bottles of ink she'd
swiped during the girl's last lesson. Tonight she would write more letters.
Freddy shaded her eyes and took another look at the carriage. Next to Millicent
sat Mrs. Pratt, dressed in her finest costume to accompany the girl to England
and boarding school. The ruffle of the housekeeper's white lace cap nodded up
and down in the breeze. Freddy was looking forward to Mrs. Pratt's extended
absence.
The
planter rode his black horse alongside Millicent's window, his sharp features
shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat with a purple feather that matched his
waistcoat. After seeing his daughter to the ship, he planned to ride to Christ
Church Parish, Mrs. Pratt had said. An estate there had suffered a landslide
that buried half of its slave huts. All of the island's planters were being
called upon to help. Freddy studied Master's erect frame and again smiled to
herself, savoring the sublime paradox of her situation. Imagine his reaction,
should he ever discover how happy he had made her and Kofi by throwing them
together like breeder cattle.
That
evening she hummed to Laurie as she perched with him on a log in front of the
hut and stirred the fire. Kofi would like this supper – rice, okra, hot pepper,
salt beef, garlic, and onions. Freddy had begun sneaking tidbits from the
kitchen to combine with vegetables the slaves grew in allotted areas. The
swiped food enhanced the paltry cornmeal, salt fish, and salt beef supplied to
them. She was careful to take only small amounts each time. Kofi's favorite was
Coocoo, a blend of cornmeal, okra, onions and sweet peppers. Yesterday she had
pilfered some fresh flying fish. Breaded and fried, it was another favorite.
Now and then she also brought papayas and bananas.
Freddy
sniffed the air, catching the scent of rain coming. A heavy tier of blue-black
clouds was moving in. As she finished cooking, she tucked a wayward strand of
hair into her high bun. Since Paulina had diverted Master's attentions, she had
been wearing her hair as she chose. During the rainy season she disliked the
heat of her heavy curls on her neck.
After
supper, Kofi dozed on the platform bed, curling around her from behind as she
wrote letters. If only she would hear back from Mam and Aileen. She prayed that
her sweet sister had found an oasis of happiness to grab, as Freddy had in this
humble hut. She scribbled quickly, describing Laurie's smile and Kofi's gentle
ways. As she hunched over the paper, the rain began as a whisper. Soon it was
pounding on the thatch. The flame flickered as a gust of wind puffed through
the drafty hut. A second gust blew the door open and rattled the wooden window
covering.
She
got up to close the door, then resumed her writing. Kofi awakened, rolled over,
and reached for a bundle on the floor. He waited quietly as Freddy finished.
Then he sat up and placed a green bead necklace around her neck.
"What's
this?" Surprised, she touched the beads.
"Accori…"
He turned her around to face him, unpinning her hair and watching it tumble
over her shoulders. The tubular beads brought out the green in her wide eyes.
He buried his hands in her curls and pulled her to him. "Odo," he
whispered in her ear.
She
looked at him, wanting to understand.
"Odo,"
he repeated, tapping his bare chest. "Mmmmm," Kofi hummed, nuzzling
her cheek with his long nose, "odo…"
"Love,"
Freddy murmured back. "Love, love, love." She rubbed his nose with
hers, and gave him a deep kiss.
"Akoma,"
he whispered, again touching his chest. Taking her hand and putting it over his
heart, he repeated, "Akoma."
"Heart."
She placed his big hand over her own hammering heart, which seemed about to
leap out of her. "Heart."
"These
are still tarnished! Polish them again!" Paulina demanded, tossing the silver
spoons onto the work table and strutting over to the hearth, hands on her hips.
"Make haste! You're late with supper and we are famished." She pushed
Birdie aside and peered into the stew pot that hung over the fire. "What
is this pigswill?"
Master
had been gone for a week. Mr. Pratt was occupied in the Big House, so Paulina
had decided that she was in charge of the kitchen slaves. Freddy never thought
she would miss the stern Mrs. Pratt. But the English housekeeper was worlds
better than this insufferable shrew.
Paulina
was behaving more strangely than usual in other ways, too. Something was afoot.
Last night Freddy and Birdie had stolen away to the spring pool for a late hour
dip. While bathing they spotted Paulina's white dress on the path below, and
realized she was walking arm in arm with Ben. Birdie had pulled Freddy lower
into the pool just in time to avoid their being seen by the furtive couple.
"This
is stained!" Paulina was barking, holding up a gold plate. "I told
you to—"
"Paulina!"
Master lurched in, a bottle of rum in one hand. His clothes were wrinkled and
his planter's hat perched crookedly on his head. "Did you not hear me
calling for you?"
The
mulatto started, dropping the plate onto the table with a loud clatter. She
whirled around to face him. "Master!" she sang in her most syrupy
voice. "How fine to have you home!" She glided across the floor and
embraced him.
Freddy
rolled her eyes at Birdie and they hid their smiles behind their hands.
Master
set the bottle on the table and squeezed Paulina, kissing her throat. He
clutched her backside and abruptly lifted her onto the work table in front of
him. Birdie turned back to the stew pot. Freddy picked up the silver spoons and
carried them to a shelf, where she pretended to concentrate on polishing. Her
head lowered to her work, she could not resist glancing back at them. Master
had pinned Paulina's knees against the table with his own, and was pushing her
legs apart. He grabbed the bottle and took a swig. "Drink with me,"
he commanded.
"Yes,
sir. I will fetch some glasses," Paulina murmured.
But
he held her fast and raised the bottle to her mouth. "Bottle's good enough
for me," he slurred.
Paulina
gave him a bright smile, wrapped her slender fingers around the neck of the bottle,
and took a long drink. Rum dribbled down her chin. Gazing into the planter's
eyes as if enchanted, she wiped her mouth and chin with the back of her hand.
He kissed her mouth hard, one hand moving up to her breast. "You naughty
minx," he muttered.
The
Creole leaned back on her hands, arching her back invitingly. He kissed her
again. Over Master's shoulder Paulina glared at Freddy, who dropped her eyes.
"But
what is this?" Master growled. Freddy looked again. His fist closed around
the tight chignon into which Paulina had coiled her hair at the nape of her
neck. "Have I not told you how to wear your tresses?" He took her by
the waist, stood her in front of him, roughly turned her around, and began
tearing at the bun. Freddy watched as the house slave squeezed her eyes shut,
pursed her lips together, pushed her chin up, and grimaced.
"Oh,
Master," Paulina murmured breathily, "it is only due to the day's
tasks…" She flinched as he ripped out the pins and hurled them to the
floor. Paulina hugged her arms in front of her chest, her shoulders hunched. A
frown creased the skin of her forehead.
"You
will pay for this infraction," the planter snarled, running his hands
through her black curls until they flowed down her back.
"Let
me appease you," she crooned sweetly. But she was clutching her forearms
so hard her knuckles were white.
He
slowly coiled a dark ringlet around one of his pale fingers. "To your
room. Bring supper and a bottle." He swatted Paulina's backside.
"Step quickly. I am eager to have my fill."
The
mulatto woman scurried to fetch the rum, her mouth a grim line of
bitterness.
Laurie's
strangled cries jolted Freddy awake just before dawn. Kofi had already lit the
lantern and was holding the babe, crooning to him in his musical voice. She
rushed over, searched Laurie's face, and felt his forehead. He was hot and dry,
and trembling. His cries were strangely hoarse. He rubbed his closed eyes with
one tiny fist.
"Oh,
Laurie," she whispered, caressing his little head as her own eyes filled
with tears. She kissed his cheek, kissed Kofi's cheek, and reached to take him.
"Birdie, we need Birdie," she said.
"Birdie."
Kofi's coal-black eyes lit up as he recognized the name.