Chapter fifty-seven
Chako
It was his third reconnaissance trip to the slave compound in three days and he had yet to see a single white man. He saw the Native Enforcers, cracking their whips and yelling, but he saw none of their masters.
He couldn't understand it. Did the British soldiers just go away?
Then it dawned on him.
It was late in the day when he saw the white men that first time. Maybe they only came out at night, or, when the sun was low in the sky.
This time, he settled in for a long wait instead of going back to camp. Six hours later, the white men emerged. He counted sixty-five of them. Most of them had Native women standing beside them. Some of the women had infants in their arms.
They were all tall, with light hair and pale faces--not the pale faces his forefathers talked about, but pale like one of those glowing white masks mime actors wore sometimes. He didn't remember them looking like that the first time he saw them. Were the changes in the earth affecting them that drastically? They looked weaker too, than they did to him the first time he saw them, but the arrogance they exuded in the way they moved, held their heads, and looked at the Natives was more evident than ever. They were growing into their roles as gods over these people.
All the Natives were sitting on the ground in rows. There were about 300 of them and each of them had their heads bowed.
" You!" Chako saw one of the Enforcers pointing the handle of his whip at an old man in the first row. A woman screamed "Nooooo!" A tall, skinny Enforcer ran up to her and starting whaling at her with his whip as if he was attempting to kill her.
"That's enough!" One of the white men put up his hand. The Enforcer stopped in midstroke and stepped back.
The old man stood up.
" What the fuck did you call him for, Kaffir?" One of the younger British soldiers said. "He's too goddamn old." He pointed his spear towards the group of Natives. " Bring her up."
" No!..No!" Hands reached up to hold the old man down. "Yuh nuh gwan drink mi Dawta!..You nuh gwan drink mi Dawta. " The old man wailed.
"Hush father, fore dey bun yuh too." A strong woman--one of the six rebel women--put her hand over his mouth as she whispered in the old man's ear.
Two Enforcers moved into the crowd and started dragging the screaming woman into the clearing between the white men and the crowd of natives.
"Faddah!...hep mi, Faddah!"
The Enforcers began tying the young woman's arms and feet.
Chako crouched hidden, watching, as the Enforcers lifted the woman and carried her to a pole. They turned her upside down, pressed her against the pole and began to wrap rope around her legs. An old woman walked up carrying a large silver bowl. She put it beneath the bound girl's head.
A fat man, clearly native, judging by his facial features, but with his face and upper body painted as white as the Soldiers, approached the scene. He was carrying a gleaming machete.
That's when Chako Morningsky raised his bow. It took every ounce of will he possessed not to let the arrow fly. He lowered the bow and turned, started running as quietly and swiftly as a wolf.
He couldn't understand it. Did the British soldiers just go away?
Then it dawned on him.
It was late in the day when he saw the white men that first time. Maybe they only came out at night, or, when the sun was low in the sky.
This time, he settled in for a long wait instead of going back to camp. Six hours later, the white men emerged. He counted sixty-five of them. Most of them had Native women standing beside them. Some of the women had infants in their arms.
They were all tall, with light hair and pale faces--not the pale faces his forefathers talked about, but pale like one of those glowing white masks mime actors wore sometimes. He didn't remember them looking like that the first time he saw them. Were the changes in the earth affecting them that drastically? They looked weaker too, than they did to him the first time he saw them, but the arrogance they exuded in the way they moved, held their heads, and looked at the Natives was more evident than ever. They were growing into their roles as gods over these people.
All the Natives were sitting on the ground in rows. There were about 300 of them and each of them had their heads bowed.
" You!" Chako saw one of the Enforcers pointing the handle of his whip at an old man in the first row. A woman screamed "Nooooo!" A tall, skinny Enforcer ran up to her and starting whaling at her with his whip as if he was attempting to kill her.
"That's enough!" One of the white men put up his hand. The Enforcer stopped in midstroke and stepped back.
The old man stood up.
" What the fuck did you call him for, Kaffir?" One of the younger British soldiers said. "He's too goddamn old." He pointed his spear towards the group of Natives. " Bring her up."
" No!..No!" Hands reached up to hold the old man down. "Yuh nuh gwan drink mi Dawta!..You nuh gwan drink mi Dawta. " The old man wailed.
"Hush father, fore dey bun yuh too." A strong woman--one of the six rebel women--put her hand over his mouth as she whispered in the old man's ear.
Two Enforcers moved into the crowd and started dragging the screaming woman into the clearing between the white men and the crowd of natives.
"Faddah!...hep mi, Faddah!"
The Enforcers began tying the young woman's arms and feet.
Chako crouched hidden, watching, as the Enforcers lifted the woman and carried her to a pole. They turned her upside down, pressed her against the pole and began to wrap rope around her legs. An old woman walked up carrying a large silver bowl. She put it beneath the bound girl's head.
A fat man, clearly native, judging by his facial features, but with his face and upper body painted as white as the Soldiers, approached the scene. He was carrying a gleaming machete.
That's when Chako Morningsky raised his bow. It took every ounce of will he possessed not to let the arrow fly. He lowered the bow and turned, started running as quietly and swiftly as a wolf.
No comments:
Post a Comment