Cane Warriors by Alex Wheatle

Author:Alex Wheatle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Akashic Books
Published: 2020-10-06T00:00:00+00:00

13

THE WATCHHOUSE

I woke up lying on a bed made of broad fern leaves and straw. I’m alive! The room stank of something I wasn’t familiar with. I tried to sit up but the throbbing pain from my shoulder stopped me from doing so. My eyes couldn’t focus properly. I muttered a quick prayer to Abowie to return my strength.

Blood had stained my shirt and it was torn where I had been shot. Someone had taken off my shoes. The back of my head ached. The soles of my feet were blistered and peeling. My toenails were black and clogged with grit and dry earth. A wooden mug filled with water rested on a bedside cabinet beside me. I struggled through the pain and sat up, then I drank from the mug greedily and splashed a little on my forehead. I blinked the wetness out of my eyes. A small table near the door had a candle and a bible resting upon it—it had the same cross on it that Misser Donaldson’s book had on his bedside cabinet. I heard the breath of the sea. The breeze was gentle. Salt was in my nostrils.

I noticed open slits in the thick wall to my right. They were just wide enough to point a long musket through. I peered through one and spotted Keverton sitting down beside the two black guns. He was gazing out to the ocean and chewing and sucking something. I couldn’t see the sun so I was unable to guess whether it was morning or afternoon.

“Keverton!” I called. My voice was weak. I tried again: “Keverton!”

He turned around, stood up, and ran to join me. His steps resounded through the fort, and when he stepped through the doorway of my room, his grin was as broad as a fat jackfruit. In his left hand he held a gnawed piece of sugarcane. He wore different boots.

“Moa!” he said. “Abowie and Akonadi give you ah next life! Let me chant dem names!”

“What happen?” I asked. “Where is ever’body? Where you get de boots from?”

“De boots?” Keverton smiled as he admired his new footwear. “From one of de dead white mon. Him nuh need dem no more. Dem fit me good. You nuh t’ink so?”

“What happen?” I repeated.

“You get shot by ah long musket,” Keverton replied. “Dat’s what happen. Eye-water ah drip down me face becah me was wondering how to tell you mama and liccle Hopie. And Hamaya too—she look ’pon you like ah big brudder. But quick deat’ nuh knock ’pon you gate yet and me nuh have to dig you deep pit. You chest must be built wid tough-like mahoe tree wood. You survive, Moa! But you better t’ank Asase Ya for Midgewood.”

“Midgewood? What did Midgewood do?”

“After de battle,” Keverton explained, “we found you near de front fence. You eyes were closed. Some mon t’ought you were on you way to meet we ancestor but Midgewood noticed you were still drawing ah liccle breath. Ah whole heap of you blood wet de ground.

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