they'd set sail. They must be anchored.
Other slaves in the hold were waking and noticing the same thing. A ripple of excitement went through the group. No matter what horrors waited on land, life would have to be better in the open air than this stinking ship.
When two sailors came down with the pots of stewed rice used to feed the captives, someone called,
"Where are we?"
The younger sailor, who seemed less hardened than his crewmates, said,
"Jamaica. It's a fine sugar island. Later today you'll be divided into parcels
and taken to the market."
Adia ate a bite of her rice, which today had bits of fish in it. She swallowed it slowly, though she wanted to gulp down the whole bowl. For the last half moon she had been giving most of her rice to Fola. Her friend was a tall, strong woman who needed more food, and during the voyage she had become gaunt with hunger.
"You must eat, child," Fola murmured when Adia offered the bowl.
"Now that we are arrived, there will be more food," Adia said.
"I have had enough."
Fola's hunger made her easily persuaded. She finished her rice, then Adia's. Then they waited in the dark and stink of the hold. Finally the hatch opened and slaves were conducted up in groups. The sailors watched like jackals to prevent any escapes, since this close to land a slave would be tempted.
Adia squinted in the dazzling light when her group was ordered out. This Jamaica was beautiful, with turquoise water and jagged green mountains surrounding a bay. Fat clouds grazed across the sky. A blast of rain hit her boat as they were being transported to shore. She welcomed the squall, which cooled the heat and washed away some of the smell.
On shore, the captives were kept under armed guard as they were divided into groups equal to two hands' worth of fingers. Adia noticed that the parcels were mixed between men and women, weak and strong, with a child or two per group. There was a single hand of slaves left over at the end, including Adia.
They were herded into a merchant's yard with high fences, each parcel chained together. After a long wait standing in the noonday sun, a gate opened and a group of white men rushed in, eager to find parcels that pleased them. Adia's English wasn't good enough to follow most of the bargaining, but the yard soon cleared as parcels were bought and the groups herded out by the new owners. Her straggly group of five was the last left. Fola was in one of the first parcels to be sold. They exchanged a last glance before Fola vanished from the yard. It was yet another loss, leaving Adia alone again. Her jaw clenched. She would not cry.
One of the white men was brought over by the merchant. "Your last chance, Harris," the merchant said.
"You know you need more slaves, and who knows when the next ship will arrive?"
Harris frowned. "This is a weakly lot—they'll all die before I get my money's worth out of
'em." His gaze fell on Adia, and he stepped close, taking her chin in his hands and forcing her face up.
"This one has some spirit, but she's just a little scrap who won't be useful for
years."
"I'll give you a good price on this parcel."
"Not interested in any but the girl." Harris started to walk away.
"I'll sell her to you at three pence a pound," the merchant offered.
"Two pence a pound. I'll have to spend a fortune in rice and
salt pork to fatten her up."
The merchant shrugged and unlocked Adia's shackles, then led her into a small room that opened off the yard. Adia was prodded up onto a scale and weighed. Thus, rigid with fury, she was sold like a basket of vegetables. Her new life had begun.
The only thing that kept her sane was Grandmother's reassurance.
"You will die free."
Chapter
EIGHT
J ean awoke feeling vertigo, as if she was rocking back and forth. Gradually she realized that she really was moving, her body rising and falling from the familiar motions of a ship. But what ship, and why?
She opened her eyes and found that she was lying on a narrow
Other slaves in the hold were waking and noticing the same thing. A ripple of excitement went through the group. No matter what horrors waited on land, life would have to be better in the open air than this stinking ship.
When two sailors came down with the pots of stewed rice used to feed the captives, someone called,
"Where are we?"
The younger sailor, who seemed less hardened than his crewmates, said,
"Jamaica. It's a fine sugar island. Later today you'll be divided into parcels
and taken to the market."
Adia ate a bite of her rice, which today had bits of fish in it. She swallowed it slowly, though she wanted to gulp down the whole bowl. For the last half moon she had been giving most of her rice to Fola. Her friend was a tall, strong woman who needed more food, and during the voyage she had become gaunt with hunger.
"You must eat, child," Fola murmured when Adia offered the bowl.
"Now that we are arrived, there will be more food," Adia said.
"I have had enough."
Fola's hunger made her easily persuaded. She finished her rice, then Adia's. Then they waited in the dark and stink of the hold. Finally the hatch opened and slaves were conducted up in groups. The sailors watched like jackals to prevent any escapes, since this close to land a slave would be tempted.
Adia squinted in the dazzling light when her group was ordered out. This Jamaica was beautiful, with turquoise water and jagged green mountains surrounding a bay. Fat clouds grazed across the sky. A blast of rain hit her boat as they were being transported to shore. She welcomed the squall, which cooled the heat and washed away some of the smell.
On shore, the captives were kept under armed guard as they were divided into groups equal to two hands' worth of fingers. Adia noticed that the parcels were mixed between men and women, weak and strong, with a child or two per group. There was a single hand of slaves left over at the end, including Adia.
They were herded into a merchant's yard with high fences, each parcel chained together. After a long wait standing in the noonday sun, a gate opened and a group of white men rushed in, eager to find parcels that pleased them. Adia's English wasn't good enough to follow most of the bargaining, but the yard soon cleared as parcels were bought and the groups herded out by the new owners. Her straggly group of five was the last left. Fola was in one of the first parcels to be sold. They exchanged a last glance before Fola vanished from the yard. It was yet another loss, leaving Adia alone again. Her jaw clenched. She would not cry.
One of the white men was brought over by the merchant. "Your last chance, Harris," the merchant said.
"You know you need more slaves, and who knows when the next ship will arrive?"
Harris frowned. "This is a weakly lot—they'll all die before I get my money's worth out of
'em." His gaze fell on Adia, and he stepped close, taking her chin in his hands and forcing her face up.
"This one has some spirit, but she's just a little scrap who won't be useful for
years."
"I'll give you a good price on this parcel."
"Not interested in any but the girl." Harris started to walk away.
"I'll sell her to you at three pence a pound," the merchant offered.
"Two pence a pound. I'll have to spend a fortune in rice and
salt pork to fatten her up."
The merchant shrugged and unlocked Adia's shackles, then led her into a small room that opened off the yard. Adia was prodded up onto a scale and weighed. Thus, rigid with fury, she was sold like a basket of vegetables. Her new life had begun.
The only thing that kept her sane was Grandmother's reassurance.
"You will die free."
Chapter
EIGHT
J ean awoke feeling vertigo, as if she was rocking back and forth. Gradually she realized that she really was moving, her body rising and falling from the familiar motions of a ship. But what ship, and why?
She opened her eyes and found that she was lying on a narrow
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