The Pull Of Freedom by Brenda Barrett

pouch and sniffed.
    “Don’t do that,” Nanny hissed, “it is strong enough to knock you out if you sniff it too long. However, it is tasteless in drinks. Do not put it in water it will give it a yellow colour.”
    He hastily took it from his nose and looked at her with wide eyes. “I would never want to be your enemy.”
    “We need the horse and carriage that I just saw leaving the plantation, the white man going in the carriage looked slightly drunk,” Nanny said ignoring Kes’ comment, “we will tie up the white man and put him in an ants nest and then let the driver go, you can take Ibo as your slave.”
    “Not me.” Ibo said trembling. “Suppose we fail, suppose they … ”
    “Stop it with your fools talk of failure,” Nanny said staunchly, “God don’t want no slaves he will look out for us.”
    Nanny and Quao and their posse rubbed up in herbs that would detract from their scent and waited on the dusty road near the plantation for the open topped carriage which was drawn by two horses to come around the corner. The carriage was the standard way to travel in the country. Many of them looked the same, a square back with a slab for a bench and a driver who was usually black. Though there were a few white men who drove a carriage when they had their family with them and for church.
    The horses trotted around the corner of the hill, their flanks seemed near to the group that was huddling at the roadside awaiting their approach.
    Nanny stepped out in the middle of the track; the horses stopped canting and reared up their forelegs in the air. The black driver who was driving them in his little box seat was thrown from the cart.
    “What is going on?” The white man in the passenger seat asked blearily. “Titus you old nigger, where are you gone?”
    The cart capsized just then and he was thrown in the middle of the trail, his fat belly giving a sickening thwack as he landed on his face.
    Titus looked up and saw the maroons and grinned, he got up and brushed off his clothes. “That there is Jim Berry,” he said pointing to his Massa. “He's as drunk as a bat in a fruit.”
    Nanny nodded and walked over to Jim Berry. Quao whistled to the horses and soothed them by murmuring in his African dialect.
    “What are you going to do Titus?” Quao asked.
    “Come with you of course,” Titus grinned, “I'm free, I earned my freedom last year but the white men don’t care for that. It’s too uncertain, this freedom, when you don’t live near the sea. They will treat you as if you is there slave.”
    He helped the men to lead the horses into the bushes.
    “We have the horses and the cart, Aman now it’s your turn to get the clothes.” Nanny said bending down and lifting up the limp head of Jim Berry. “He’s out like a camp fire.”
    They tied up Jim Berry. His limp body rolled from side to side and his tongue stuck out obscenely as they carried him to a tree with a large ants nest. “Put him in the branch,” Nanny commanded and they struggled up the tree, with the fat ants nest, and deposited Jim’s body close to the querying ants.
    “We don’t have to go to the plantation to find clothes,” Aman squealed from the other side of the road, “he has a bag in here with clothes and gold.”
    They all gathered around the cart and checked the bag.
    “The clothes are too big.” Kes said stoutly, “the man had a big gut. You will have to see if you find any on the plantation that is more my size.”
    Nanny grunted, “try them on anyway. Get ready to leave now Aman, you have to join the slaves before dinner time.”

Chapter Fourteen
     
    They waited in the trees overlooking the plantation until they could see that it was dinnertime from their vantage point. They watched as Aman darted into the food area and blended in with the slaves. The slaves shielded him from the approaching overseers and kept their expressions bland. It was after roll call, more than likely the overseers wouldn't find anything amiss