The Watchman's Grace

Chapter Two-2

Kigwa could not believe this grotesque sight before his eyes. An overpowering stench from a hanging, decaying corpse almost made him vomit. Flies were thick upon rotting scarred flesh, while bulging eyeballs protruded in haunting surprise. Kigwa was utterly repulsed by this wretched scene.

“See that? Here is the price you pay for noble African heritage! This one tried to raise a few other field hands for a night time escape. He spoke big ideas like you about taking back their freedom and getting away from the pale man. But the pale man has ears everywhere, he knows everything! Besides, what do you know about the wild beasts waiting to eat human flesh beyond the plantation!

“This was the second time Cecil tried to escape. He was such a damn fool! After all, Master Smith showed mercy the first time he tried to run away. Master Smith wants this to be an example for anyone else that tries getting uppity around here. There will be no warnings anymore!

“I also brought you here for another reason. See this here? It’s called a barn. Inside, there are animals called horses, like that which pulled the wagon on which you came to us. We lost our last blacksmith to whooping cough. And now we need another. Master Smith got you because they need someone young and strong to be a blacksmith. None of this will make sense to you now, but it sure will later. Now follow me back to your hut. You will be going away soon.”

Kigwa was bewildered by this onslaught of sights and words from Nathaniel. “What is a black-sm-ith? Where am I going? What is happening to me Na-than-i-el? I demand an answer from you now!”

Nathaniel slowly turned back in Kigwa’s direction before responding. “I see it will take some doing to put out that fire in your heart. But it will happen, believe you me. Didn’t I already say you had to earn your keep? Always remember you have to earn your keep on White Rose Plantation. Otherwise they have no use for you. Who knows what would happen to you then?

“You’re gonna be moving to Springwater Plantation for a bit. But before you go I’m gonna teach you some words, so you understand what they’re saying to you over there. For now we will work you in the fields by day. At sundown, we will learn you a little of the pale man’s tongue. You understand me Kigwa?”

Kigwa masked his surprise at hearing the first tiny advantage he may steal in this hostile environment. Thinking back to those miserable depths within The Relentless’s fetid hold, he recognized a chance to understand this pale man’s strange words, and quite possibly a means to an end.

“You will teach me to speak his strange tongue?” queried Kigwa.

Nathaniel scowled back. “You will only hear enough to do your tasks, nothing more. And don’t ask about reading his language! No slave is allowed to read, do you follow me Kigwa?”

Kigwa held his gaze for a brief moment before giving a strained nod of acceptance. To himself, he began the process of seeking any means to fulfill his personal vow of freedom.

Through every scorching day that followed, Nathaniel would enter Kigwa’s rickety wooden shack to wake him at the stroke of dawn. Following a starchy meal of boiled cornmeal, molasses and weak coffee, he was herded out into the vast fields of King Cotton.

At first, his strong hands would bleed freely from that awkward prickly bush. As days melted into one week, then a couple more, he became adept, his strong hands cut less. After fourteen hours of nonstop labor under gazes from surly overseers, he would retreat to his cabin for a sparse setting of fatty pork, rice and boiled potato.

It was after those winking hours of nightfall when Nathaniel would visit again to commence a daily task of teaching simple words for understanding the pale man. Fortunately, Kigwa was a learned man, so he could adapt quicker than most unfortunate souls to learning this staccato speech. When his lessons concluded, Kigwa would snatch a few hours of uncomfortable sleep on a filthy woven mat before returning to ceaseless labor in the fields.

An endless routine of thankless servitude was the unholy lot of most plantation workers. They were mere caricatures of their living self, beasts of burden restricted from basic dignities. When their dying days approached, they were allowed a painful isolation in the “dying shacks” located deep within the old woods of White Rose. Weeks from a certain death, their every ounce sapped from Master Smith’s pursuit of profit, they expired in a thankless prison of abject squalor.

For Kigwa, he was one of an anointed few to escape such an ill-fated path, at least initially. For Master Smith’s man Willis had been sent to auction over three weeks ago to find a strong featured fellow possessed of good industry. A blacksmith was needed to fill a post, and it was critical to find a replacement immediately. Willis took one look at Kigwa and chose him to suit their needs.

Now, more than three weeks after purchase, Nathaniel reckoned Kigwa could make out enough English to be ready for his next step in apprenticeship. Fortunately, it was not a moment too soon, as Nathaniel was paid a visit that day by Willis.

“Say Nathaniel!” he shouted, striding towards him with purpose. “Is that young buck I gave to you having any hope, or should I tell Master Smith he made a big mistake? Tell me now boy.”

“Yes sir, he’s as good as rain!” grinned back the elder man. “I reckon he’s good enough to send off to Springwater Plantation, that’s for sure.”

Willis came up close to Nathaniel’s face. “Are you sure about this Nathaniel? I don’t want to be made a fool in front of Master Smith, because it will come out of your hide! So better fess up now if we need to get rid of this buck.”

Nathaniel held his ground. “You asked me once, Mister Willis. And you know Nathaniel’s word is as good as gold, ain’t it so?”

Willis would not accept such talk from any other worker on White Rose except Nathaniel. More than once the old man’s efforts have saved his employment.

“Fair enough Nathaniel. I will make sure he is out of the fields a little earlier today. And give him an extra serving of pork will ya? We need this buck to work out at Springwater!”

“He’ll be fine, Mister Willis. I looked after him well.”

“Have him ready to leave by the horses’ stables at crack of first light tomorrow. Herman Ford over at Springwater will be waiting to put him through his paces. Oh damn it! I knew I forgot something. Have to give this boy a name don’t we? What do you think Nathaniel?”

The elderly man had never been asked to name a servant. It took him completely off guard. His utter surprise was obvious.

“Well now Mister Willis; can’t say that I know what to make of that. No sir, nothing really comes to mind. But we sure are lucky to have a worker like him. You sure picked a good one this time ‘round!”

Willis was equally stumped with this decision. Then his thin lips curled in complete satisfaction.

“Now look here Nathaniel. You said we were lucky to find this boy, though Lucky sounds like a sissy’s name! So that got me thinking. And I think we had some good fortune indeed! And there it is. He’s Fortune, to White Rose that is, cause he should do well for us. So Fortune Smith he shall be.” Without a further word, he turned on his heels and walked briskly towards the imposing main house.

Later that evening, after giving Kigwa his last oral lessons, Nathaniel prepared to tell Kigwa his new name. While standing a moment to stretch his tired limbs, he began.

“Well Kigwa, this is going to be your home for a very long time. So always remember White Rose Plantation will give you back all the care you give it if you let it. And now we’re giving you a proper name. From here on in you will be known as Fortune. Through master’s good graces, your surname shall be Smith. Welcome to White Rose, Fortune Smith; Kigwa died back in Africa!”

Kigwa’s eyes narrowed in seething anger. “My name is Kigwa, damn you!” he shouted back in his native tongue. “No pale man can tell me otherwise. How dare you play with the name my father gave me; you have no right! The pale man cannot make me forget I am a noble from Ehra tribe. It is shameful for you Nathaniel if they brainwashed memories of your forefathers from mind and heart!”

Weary Nathaniel felt resentment radiate the surface of his face. Years of indoctrination made such recollections grow to naught as a matter of necessity. But he made such decisions long ago, feeling that knowledge had no place in this new land. It was with similar reasoning he responded to Kigwa’s outburst.

“There’s no shame in being smart enough to know how to survive! You show great ignorance to think like a prince in a land that looks upon you as a slave. They took royal robes from your body before setting sail, and may I suggest you take the attitude that went with those clothes from your conscience! I am not your enemy Fortune; I am here to make sure you see another day.”

Fortune glared with naked hostility upon Nathaniel. But soon rationality came to bear. There was no means or opportunity to get out of his present circumstances. And until he could find both, any attempts to escape would meet the same fate as that pitiful creature rotting behind the horses’ barn.

“In my heart I will always be Kigwa. But in this land of the pale man they will call me Fortune. And I will answer to it…for now.”

Nathaniel wore a look of pleasant surprise. “Fortune, you spoke to me in English, and sounded mighty good! There just may be some promise in keeping you around. Now go to sleep; tomorrow is a big day for you, leaving to Springwater and all.”

Morning sunrise spied Fortune, Nathaniel and Willis meeting beside the horses’ stables and preparing for an important rendezvous at Springwater Plantation.

“Can this boy understand some words?” asked Willis quizzically. “It will do no good to be sending a mute off to Herman Ford!”

“Yes sir,” replied a confident Nathaniel. “He even surprised me with how good he can talk now.”

“You don’t say…I hope he isn’t one of those uppity darkies. That will not do at White Rose, no how.” Then Willis turned towards the soon to be apprentice.

“Now listen to me boy. Fortune, you are part of White Rose Plantation. Everything you do has to be right by White Rose, and that means learning well and good while you’re at Springwater. Herman Ford is good people, and he will teach you skills that will make you useful. So let’s get in the wagon and haul off. I’ll see you later Nathaniel.”

As their wagon rode down a smooth dirt laneway towards the commanding gates of White Rose, Nathaniel heaved a sigh of relief. “That boy is bound to be a handful,” he muttered under his breath before attending to other chores.

Not one word broke a long silence during their ride out to Springwater Plantation. For Fortune, he was too preoccupied with the dire consequences of being a prisoner against his will. Fortune’s current position of vulnerability was new to him. And try as he may to assess his options, to be kidnapped within a strange land meant no easy way back to regaining his former way of life.

As for Willis, he knew Harriston Smith would not tolerate any problems from this recent purchase. After all, Smith gave Willis free reign to find a new blacksmith, expecting complete capability on his part. With this promotion in responsibilities, failure was surely not an option.