Beyond Seven Sisters by M L Bullock

Author:M L Bullock [Bullock, M L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781642024951
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2019-10-03T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Janjak

“Who is that there? Come closer so I can see you, or I am going to shoot you. Shoot you dead,” a low voice rumbled at me. I recognized the voice. This was my uncle, the man for whom I held a furious hatred. He was sitting among the trees just beyond the palm I searched for. He was not easy to spot at first, but eventually, I discerned him. Mowie was bent over a stick, and I knew immediately that he was blind. He could not see us, his head bobbed at a strange angle, and he was thin. Thinner even than Jim-Jim or me.

I crept closer and watched him as he rose to his feet, waving his stick and whispering curses under his breath. Near him were three mounds, recent mounds. I could smell the freshly turned dirt, and I could smell him. He stood awkwardly and stretched his hand out as if he would grab me. He was not that close, and any remaining fear I had for this man vanished.

No fear now, but the hate? That I still felt. Yes, the hate was still there, and plenty of it. Jim-Jim tugged on my ragged shirt as if to say, “Let’s go,” but I would not leave. I walked to my uncle and took his stick from him. Before I could think about what I was doing, I whacked him with the rough shaft of wood, and he fell to the ground.

I did not strike his face, but only his back.

How many times had I endured beatings since I’d left here? My own uncle—this very man—had sold me to the slavers. This, I knew. I had not dreamed that horrible event. The absolute worst day of my life. Even though it had long been illegal to do such a thing on our island, he had done it anyway.

Why? Why did he do this?

I had never given him cause to hate me. I had never been disobedient to either him or his mother. Mowie had come so quickly when Papa died, and he’d been good to take care of Mama and me. He’d even taught me his special magic for catching big fish. I realize now it hadn’t been magic at all, but just his way of building trust with me. Mowie had always been smiling, always sharing, but yes, it had been him.

I struck him again as he clutched at the stick. I shook him loose and growled at him. The growl was to hold back the screams of frustration and anger and so many other things that bubbled up inside me. I could still hear the tinkling of the coins in his hand when they cinched my hands and feet. His eyes had met mine. Uncle Mowie had wanted me to know he’d done it. He did not move, only watched as they slid the burlap bag over me, and from inside, I saw him. He was not crying, not laughing. Only watching.

I struck him again as Jim-Jim stepped away from me.

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