Tangled Passion (16 page)

“You are the source of my strength Ashana, I really couldn’t have done it without you,” he said.

“Jonah, I love you so much. In this life and in the next, the space that you occupy in my heart will always be yours,” she said, drawing closer to him and resting her head on his shoulder.

They ate in silence, chewing on the raw cassava Jonah had obtained the night before. After eating and a few minutes of rest, they were on their feet once again.

“Morne Turner is in that direction,” Jonah said, pointing to the north. He was thirsty and even though the cassava had alleviated some of the stabs of hunger he felt earlier, it didn’t do much about the thirst. He knew Ashana felt the same way and it was her he was worried about. Although he dared not show it, he was secretly scared that if they didn’t get water soon enough, something terrible might happen to them. The distance to Morne Turner was not a stone’s throw away. He only knew that it was to the south from what PaNene told him and from where they were, he could only see the top of what he believed was Morne Turner.

“We walk in the shade as much as possible; under trees and under bushes. This will keep us from dehydration,” Jonah announced, holding Ashana's hand. “Tora!”

“What?” Ashana queried.

“Tora! The dog! We forgot her...” he said, looking alarmed,

“But Jonah...” Ashana interrupted,

He ignored her protest, turning around and calling out to the dog.

“Tora! Tora!,” Jonah called out but there was no sign of the dog. “Where is she?” Jonah said sucking his tongue and whistling. But there was still no sign of the dog. Maybe Ashana was right he thought, it probably slipped back into its madness and they'd probably be safer without her.

“It must have gone back to where it came from,” Ashana said trying to console Jonah and at the same time discourage him from continuing to call out to the dog. She was greatly relieved that she didn’t have to deal with the mysterious animal any longer.

Jonah shrugged his shoulders, there was something about the dog that had somehow gotten Jonah. He turned around to continue his walk but didn't stop thinking about how much he was going to miss Tora and wondering why he had gotten so attached to the dog so quickly.

“Maybe you are right Ashana, I am sorry but there is just something about that dog that really has me wanting her around.”

“I understand Jonah, but we have to continue moving,” Ashana said holding his hand and taking a step in the direction they were headed.

“OK,” Jonah said, following suit but they had barely taken their fourth or fifth steps when he heard a bark and she heard it too. “Tora!” he shouted out, turning around sharply.

“Ruff ruff,” the dog responded.

“Tora!”

“Ruff...ruff.. ruff.. ruff.” She was barking continuously, but remained wherever she was.

“Why is she not coming?” Jonah asked. He didn't expect an answer from Ashana and he quickly ran in the direction of the bark, with Ashana following reluctantly.
Is Tora hurt
Jonah thought, his pace hastened by the thought.

“Wait here, Ashana,” he said to Ashana as he entered the bush very cautiously.

“Don’t stay long, we don’t have much time Jonah,” she shouted back as he got swallowed by the tall grasses.

“I won’t,” he replied.

After a few steps into the bush, Jonah stopped and quietly separated the tall grasses with his hands. Tora came into view immediately, about fifteen or so meters from where was hunched over. Her back was turned to Jonah and her tail was wagging vigorously. “Tora,” he whispered a little apprehensively. She turned around briefly, let out a friendly bark and returned her attention to the same spot. Jonah approached the dog a bit relieved but still lost and cautious. It was not until he bent over to touch the dog that he finally saw what held Tora’s attention and why she had remained at that spot waiting for them to join her.

“Ashana! Ashana!”

“Jonah!” Ashana called back, very scared. She didn’t know how to interpret Jonah’s tone, he sounded excited but she feared she might be wrong.

“Yes Ashana, I am fine, come see, come quickly.” He’d sensed the fear in her voice. Ashana waded through the tall green grasses quickly but when she arrived she saw Jonah sitting next to the dog and it didn't make any sense to her, considering the level of excitement she’d heard in Jonah’s voice.

“Look!” Jonah said.

She followed Jonah’s finger and was soon staring at a small, slow-flowing stream.

“We have to get to Morne Turner before they do,” he announced.

“Where’s that?” Nathan asked.

“About two hours ride south,” Bushwacker replied.

“Mount Turner...”

“Morne Turner,” Bushwacker corrected.

“Why do we have to get there before they do?” Nathan asked impatiently.

“Because from Morne Turner, they can choose one of several options; first, they can choose the easiest option and head for Morne Diablotins where some escaped slaves have been living without any challenges….”

“Escaped slaves living on a hill without any challenges, that’s interesting,” Nathan said very slowly.

“How interesting?” Bushwacker asked jerking and pulling hard on the lace of his right boot.

“That’s very courageous of them and I admire that, what I don’t understand is why they can’t be challenged, I mean it is not that I really care,” Nathan said.

“Well I won’t say they can’t be challenged; it’s more like they haven’t been challenged. Anyways rumour has it that there are four hundred strong Rastafarian men who know the bush better than the snakes and rats and who are very good with their arrows and God-knows whatever other weapons they have.”

“So there is an army of escaped slaves that lives up that Mountain and who’d assist any escaped slaves that made it to Morne Turner?” Nathan asked with a smirk on his face

“We don’t know exactly which mountain they live on, we just know that slaves who manage to escape to Morne Turner are picked up by these Rastafarians,” Bushwacker said reluctantly. He’d sensed some form of sarcasm in the young man’s tone and was tempted to tell him to shut up. But Mr. Longstands was a long-time friend of his; their relationship had never suffered any bruises in the past and he wanted it to stay so. “Morne Turner is a significant point for any escaping slave,” he continued trying to keep his temper under control. “Once at the foot of Morne Turner, a slave can also choose not to go up Morne Diablotins but to head to Dublanc River, where it is also rumoured that some boat would pick them up and take them to the island where slavery has been abolished.”

“Some boat?” Nathan queried sarcastically.

“Yes, some ghost boat, I hear,” Bushwacker replied.

“Ghost boat, what exactly are you talking about?” Nathan asked, he didn't like anything that messed with his reasoning or disrupted a perfectly logical pattern.

“It’s actually a rumour’ there is no proof. The slaves say there is one but there isn’t any reason to believe that any one of the slaves that escaped were rescued by this ghost boat,” Bushwacker said, trying to calm the young man. He’d seen the sudden contortion on Nathan’s face and knew immediately that he wasn’t the type you shared ghost stories with.

“How close are those islands, I mean the ones where slavery has been abolished?” Nathan asked.

“Haiti, I hear is about seven hundred and sixty miles away—a few days journey from here …”

“OK,” Nathan said, interrupting Bushwacker without any apologies.

“In either case, however, whether the escaping slave chooses to go up Morne Turner or to continue to the other islands, there is a mandatory waiting period. If they choose the easier option; to go up Morne Turner, they’d have to cross two active plantations in order to get to the pickup point,” Bushwacker explained, though on his last drop of patience for Nathan’s unending questions. “Once at the active plantations, the escaping slaves would be assisted by the other slaves working on those plantations. They do everything to conceal the escapees, feed them, and help them get to the pickup point. The slaves on the active plantations never turn in escaping slaves because they fear the wrath of the Rastafarians.”

“Why? Why do they fear the Rast…”

“Rasta-fa-rians,” Bushwacker picked the first half of the word out of Nathan’s mouth and completed it. “Well, these Rastafarians it is rumoured, have the tendency to sneak into those active plantations and join the slaves who work there without being noticed…”

“Why, why would they risk that?” Nathan asked.

“Just to get gossip, find out what’s going on, and identify which one of the slaves has been uncooperative in assisting escaping slaves and many more other reasons.”

“And if the slaves choose to head to the Dublanc River?” Nathan asked. He feared that with each second that passed Ashana was slipping farther and farther away from him.

“Well if the escaping slave chooses to head to another island, then they are on their own; they have a longer, more tedious road to travel, which makes it a lot easier for us to catch them. They’ll have to travel solely through the bush and only in darkness.” Bushwacker said.

“About the boat; who operates it and how does it know when an escaping slave or slaves needed to be picked up?” Nathan asked, still trying to solve the puzzle that was getting more and more complicated in his head.

“Although I haven’t seen this mysterious boat, it is believed to arrive faithfully once every month and that is all I know,” Bushwacker replied, he too had given up on trying to solve the same puzzle a long time ago and had promised not to revisit it.

“So what is your strategy?” Nathan asked, as they headed for the bushes. He was a little scared and worried about so much talk and no action.

“Speed!” Bushwacker replied proudly.

“These slaves have been gone for almost forty-eight hours,” Nathan said, his tone exposing a faint hint of impatience and doubt.

“We know the shortcuts and we run faster than the rabbits. We must and will reach Morne Turner before they do.”

“How would you know if...”

“How would I know if they were there already?” Bushwacker said, interrupting mulishly and completing Nathan’s intended question.

 Silence

The young man was asking too many questions and it was getting on Bushwacker’s nerves; it was very uncertain how long he could take Nathan’s constant pressure and nagging–he was a man who had trouble keeping his nerves under control.

“Was that your intended question?” He challenged Nathan without waiting for a response while giving the young man the same look a teacher would give a little child that was being overly naughty. “It’s our job, young man, and believe it, if the slaves reach Morne Turner before us, we’ll know,” he added and with that he kicked his horse and disappeared into the bush. The other four men followed and then Nathan followed too.

As the disappointed slaves and Edwards began their journey back to the Fort, Edwards occupied himself with the thought of the reaction on Mr. Bushwacker's face as he read the letter from Massa Longstands. Edwards could tell there was something disturbing about the content of the envelope his Massa had instructed him to give to the expert slave hunter. He maintained the twelve-foot distance between himself and the four slaves who hadn’t stopped complaining. Bushwacker had decided that he didn’t need all of the slaves sent to him by Longstands. He had chosen only Locua from the bunch and instructed the others to return to the Fort and this was something they still couldn’t get over. Edwards didn’t want to be part of the debate and chose to walk ahead of them where their noise could not interrupt his thinking.

His master had specifically instructed him to make sure that no one saw when he handed the envelope to Mr. Bushwacker and that he made sure the transaction was kept secret, most especially from Nathan. This was troubling enough for Edwards but he was a slave and all he did was carry out instructions—instructions, whatever they were and however they were prescribed.

It had taken Edwards nearly two hours to find the right time and place to deliver the letter to Bushwacker—a man he had taken a disliking for from the first time he met him.

Bushwacker had spent the whole time talking with Nathan while his men prepared the horses for the chase. When the two finally finished talking and Nathan handed Bushwacker an envelope similar to the one in his pocket, Edwards waited for Nathan to leave the room. But Bushwacker himself was all over the compound like a busy bee, he darted to the backyard and reappeared on the porch in no time and before Edwards could approach him, he was off again to the other side of the building.

He never seemed able to stay at a place for a good bit of time and by the time the entire crew was ready and Bushwacker was on his horse, Edwards still hadn’t gotten an opportunity to hand Bushwacker the envelope. Massa Longstands had made it clear that the envelope had to be given to Bushwacker by all means necessary but Edwards was equally aware of the consequences of not handing the envelope to Bushwacker under the circumstances that his Massa prescribed.

Edwards’s fear level rose with each failed attempt that he made to secretly hand the envelope over. Every time he thought he had a perfect opportunity to catch Mr. Bushwacker alone, the man moved to a different location; a more inconvenient location. Edwards could already see Massa Longstands’s face scolding him for failing to deliver the letter. He didn’t like what it looked like and chose instead to keep trying.

“There is no need for a crowd, we really don’t need all of you,” Bushwacker said, sitting on his horse addressing the six slaves who had accompanied Nathan. “I always ride with only four and that number has not been adjusted,” he continued before turning his attention towards Nathan. The look he gave the young Massa was one that clearly spelt the words ‘do you have any objections?’