Little Black Girl Lost 4 (4 page)

Chapter 8

T
he dawn of a new day was approaching as the darkness gave way to illumination. They had driven the horses hard and only rested them for a short while when they could. After three long days and nights of running from their land of origin, they took refuge near a bank of fresh water. They filled their cisterns, ate the delicious fruit and nuts Amir's mother had packed. Ibo used their oasis as a chance to see the clothing Asenath made for her. Asenath was a very stylish and classy woman.

The silks and linens fit her like a glove. The garments helped her forget about what had happened to her soon-to-be mother-in-law.

After she tried on all the garments and paraded around so Amir could appreciate her in them, they talked of fulfilling their dreams in Sierra Leone until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

While they were sleeping near a pond, Ibo was awakened by what smelled like Dutchmen—slavers. She knew their scent, as she had smelled it many times. She sniffed a few more times, and when she was certain, she opened her eyes to warn Amir, who hadn't slept since they left three days earlier.

She shook Amir and he opened his eyes, but sleep was still upon him. She put her index finger to her lips, warning him not to make a sound. In the distance she heard the Dutchmen speaking in their native tongue.

She listened to them. They were much closer than she originally thought. They were coming to fill up their cisterns and then they would be on their way to their ship with a haul of procured slaves.

“How much do ya think we'll get for this quiver of niggers, Cap'em?” a man said.

“It depends on how many of them survive the voyage. ”

Ibo's eyes bulged when she heard the man who responded to the question. Her belly did flip-flops. She knew him. Her father did business with him, and he had tried many times to buy her.

When Amir saw how scared she was, he raised his head up and said, “What's wrong, my love?”

Ibo quickly stood to her feet and gathered their belongings. “Amir, we must go! They're coming!”

His mind was still in a fog when he said, “Who's coming? What are you so afraid of? We are two days' journey from our new home. We're free, my love. ”

“No, Amir! It's Captain Rutgers! He wants me!”

“He wants you? What do you mean, he wants you?”

“I can explain everything to you later, but now, we must go!”

Amir didn't understand the urgency and for that reason, he moved like he had all the time in the world, like there was no immediate danger. Being up for three days and three nights is no easy task. It requires the strictest discipline; if not that, the hot pursuit of men who want nothing more than to take his head off at the shoulders.

Seventy-two hours of vigilance had worn him out. He wanted to sleep for at least another hour or two. He was sure he had earned it. He looked at Ibo. She was already on the Arabian, ready to take flight again.

“Well, well, well,” Captain Rutgers said after recognizing Ibo. He had found her incredibly attractive and intelligent. As much as he wanted to enter her folds and take as much pleasure as her unwilling body gave, he knew she would be worth so much more if her hymen was intact once they reached the shores of the Americas. An intact hymen and her extraordinary gift of languages could easily fetch a tidy sum; perhaps five or six thousand at the auction block in New Orleans.

When Amir heard the man's voice, instinctively he turned toward it and saw about twenty or so white men with flintlock pistols and rifles. With them, he saw about a hundred or more naked black men, women, and children. Most of the men were in wooden yolks. The women and children wore collars of iron. They were all chained together. He looked into their eyes and saw defeat. They had given up, given in to their captors. They had no plan of escape.

Chapter 9

A
mir looked at his Arabian, where Ibo sat, and where his spear and shield hung. They were about thirty feet away. He had depended on his speed to gain the advantage in battle before. It had served him well. Now, however, the speed of a steel ball trumped being fleet of foot. But still, his warrior's spirit wondered what his chances were of getting to his weapons before they fired theirs.

As he thought of running to his horse and retrieving the weapons, still calculating his odds for success, it occurred to him that they wouldn't shoot. They were slavers. He and his precious Ibo were the prizes.

Ibo looked at Amir. She could tell by the way he kept looking at his weapons and the Dutchmen that he was going to make a stand; he was going to fight for her, for them, for their God-given right to freedom. She knew he would die if necessary, which gave her confidence. They would both fight and die before becoming the property of mere mortals.

Without further delay, believing that the Dutchmen wanting to enslave him increased his chances of surviving because no bullets would be fired, he ran to his Arabian. In the blink of an eye, he had his shield and spear, ready for action, ready to kill or be killed.

“Don't hurt the girl,” Captain Rutgers yelled out. “Try not to damage the prince. They're both worth a small fortune.”

When Ibo heard that, she became even more confident, knowing they had been given strict orders not to harm her. She grabbed Amir's princely sword and slid it out of the sheath.

When the captured Africans saw Amir and Ibo taking a stance, they found the strength to resist too. They started chanting like warriors, shaking their chains—the women and children too.

Captain Rutgers gave orders for half his men to control the slaves and half to capture the man and woman. “No matter what, don't harm the girl in any way!” he yelled.

Amir and Ibo ran at the Dutchmen, catching them off guard.

Ibo screamed in Dutch, “Dood aan de witte man!”

Amir screamed the same thing, having no idea that he was saying, “Death to the white man!”

The Dutch slavers were so surprised by their sudden offensive that they stood still and watched the man and woman run at full speed, screaming, “Dood aan de witte man!” They didn't start fighting back until one of their shipmates had been run through with Amir's spear. He died instantly.

Being fleet of foot, Amir quickly killed five Dutch slavers in a matter of seconds, using his shield and his spear. He slashed through throats, broke noses with his shield so quickly that the slavers didn't have a chance to respond to his rapid movements. After running through yet another slaver with his spear, he pulled it out of his victim and threw it. It sailed fifty feet in the air before striking its target—one of the slavers who were trying to control the men and women in chains. The head of the spear pierced the back of his neck and came out the front.

The captured slaves fought with the Dutchmen as best they could.

Ibo, with one clean slash, cut the carotid artery of a slaver. But when she saw his blood pumping out of his body, she suddenly became a statue, frozen solid by what she saw.

The slaver put his hand to his throat, pulled it away, and looked at his own blood. His eyes looked as if they no longer contained life. The blood was still pumping out of his neck, running down the front of his shirt, splashing down on the ground, making a small pond. He dropped to his knees. Once there, he fell face first onto the ground, dead.

One of the slavers was so enraged by seeing the death of his best friend that he ignored his orders and pointed his flintlock rifle at Ibo's head. What was the death of one nigger wench? It was about revenge for his friend, and he would have it in one second's time. He was just about to pull the trigger when he heard a small explosion. Time stopped for a split second as he realized that he was shot in the head by Captain Rutgers. A split second later, he fell forward, dead.

When Ibo heard the shot, she whipped her head around to see what had happened. The slaver who was about to shoot her had been shot in the eye by Captain Rutgers. It was the second time she'd ever seen someone get killed. Seeing two dead men took all the fight she had out of her. She stood still, frozen, looking at him, unable to believe what she had seen.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps—running footsteps. They were almost upon her. By the time she turned to see what was happening, she was tackled by Captain Rutgers. She hit her head on the ground. Everything went black.

Chapter 10

B
efore she was fully conscious, she heard the creaking of the ship, the roar of the waves, gusts of wind. She felt the movement of the vessel, but had no idea she was aboard the
Windward.
The heat of the sun blazed through one of the windows, letting her know it was daylight. Suddenly, pain impulses registered and increased at the back of her skull, throbbing with each beat of her heart. She frowned and tried to swallow. Her throat was dry and needed fresh water to make it possible to talk above the level of whispering.

She opened her eyes and took in the luxury the cabin offered. She found the white curtains covering the window particularly attractive as she scanned the room. The enormous number of books that lined the walls stood out far more than anything else.

“I thought I had lost you,” Captain Rutgers said. He was having lunch, which consisted of roasted chicken, rice, green beans, bread, and white wine.

She whipped her head in the direction of the voice and saw him. In Dutch, she whispered, “Water.”

Rutgers went over to his private dining table, where a glass pitcher full of clear water sat. He picked up a glass and poured the water in and then went over to the bed and sat down. He then helped Ibo rise up to drink.

“Slowly now,” he said. “You've been in and out of consciousness for four days now.” When she began to guzzle, Rutgers pulled the glass away from her and laid her back down. “You can have more later.”

In a raspy voice, she said, “Amir. Prince Amir. Where is he?”

Rutgers smiled. “Ah ... young love. There's nothing like it.”

Ibo frowned and summoned all the strength she had, which was very little, and raised herself up from the bed. “Where is he, Captain Rutgers?”

“So you remember me. Good. Good. We will have lots of time to talk. We have a long voyage ahead of us. We will get to know each other well.”

When she saw the lust in his eyes, she pulled the covers up to her neck, which was when she realized she was completely nude under the sheet.

She locked eyes with him. “No, you must not. I am a maiden. The prince's maiden. He will take your head.”

“Where you're going, titles won't mean anything. Might as well get used to it now. You're my property, and I can do with you as I like. It just so happens that I did not violate you in any way. Your price will be of greater value at the auction on the Isle of Santo Domingo.”

She stared at him for a moment or two, amazed he hadn't taken her. She had seen his wanton gaze many times. “I am to be sold?”

With a sinister sneer, Rutgers said, “Disappointed that it won't be me who deflowers you, eh?” He laughed uproariously. “It won't be Prince Amir either. Get it outta your head. The adjustment will go smoother if you do.”

“Where's the prince?” she asked desperately, wondering what became of him. “Is he alive?”

Chapter 11

T
he smile Rutgers wore vanished in an instant when he thought of all the men the prince had killed prior to being captured. He could still see the prince breaking necks, snatching out throats with speed and power, long before his men knew what was happening to them.

“Slightly damaged. But yes, very much so. He, too, will fetch a great price.”

“I want to see him,” she said, staring unrelentingly into his eyes.

“All in good time, dear girl,” Rutgers said and continued eating. He swallowed his food and drank from his wineglass. Then he wiped his mouth with a white tablecloth. With extreme politeness and respect, he said, “Before we do, let's get you dressed and fed and then we shall see your prince, okay?”

Ibo answered with a slight but begrudging nod, letting him know she would cooperate, but with uncompromising restraint and with tightly tied strings attached.

Rutgers picked up a silver dinner bell and shook it. A few seconds later someone knocked on the door.

“Come,” Rutgers said in a commanding tone.

A shipman opened the door and said, “Yes, Captain?”

Still devouring his food, Rutgers said, “Bring our guest something to eat and bring the special cargo I've selected up on deck for a bit of exercise.”

“Shall I include the prince, sir?”

“Especially the prince,” Rutgers said without looking at the shipman. “Make sure you clean him up and give him his clothes.”

The shipman nodded and said, “Very good, sir.” He closed the door.

Rutgers waited until he heard footsteps going away from the cabin before looking at his young captive. “You'll find your clothes in that chest underneath the portside window.” He showed her with his eyes. “When you've finished eating, we'll have a talk with the prince.”

He stood up to leave, then turned around and said, “There is no escaping me or this vessel. We are at sea, and you couldn't possibly swim to shore even if you knew how; even if you were the best swimmer that ever lived.” He smiled and continued, “Besides, the water is full of man-eating sharks, and they would love to eat a beautiful creature like you if you happened to fall in the water.

“If you need anything, ring the bell as you've seen me do, and the guard will get it for you. Do not attempt to leave this cabin for any reason without checking with the guard. He will find me, and I'll give him instructions concerning you. Do you understand?”

She answered him with a quick nod.

Ibo had no idea what a shark was, but she did understand that if she jumped into the water, she would be eaten alive by something. What Captain Rutgers didn't know was that if he had told her the prince was dead, she would not have cared to live another moment without him and would have flung herself overboard at the first opportunity. Since the prince was alive, she, too, would stay alive.

Later, when she had time to think, she would work out a plan of escape. Though she and Amir were to be someone's property in a strange land with strange customs, she didn't allow those thoughts to subdue her optimism. Seeing the prince was all she could think of. Amir would think of something, she was sure.

An hour later, Ibo and the man who guarded her climbed the stairs and stepped onto the deck. The heat was blazing; the sun unrelenting, singeing her skin, causing her to squint her eyes in defense. She was expecting to see Amir, but instead, she saw something that took her breath away.