The Price of Freedom (13 page)

“I’m going to pick some herbs from
the back garden.  I haven’t picked any for a long time and most of the
bags are almost empty,” Deborah announced, hurriedly picking up a basket. 
She really didn’t want to hear any more of Hattie’s stories at the
moment.  The girl had no shame and was willing to share all sorts of
intimacies that Deborah could do without hearing about.

As she went out the back door she
heard Cassie saying, “Sarah, the mistress
ain
’ ask
you nothing about why Deborah didn’t wear the same dress as us?”

“To tell the truth, I
ain
’ see the mistress since the party and I hoping that she
forget.”

“I don’t know ‘bout that. 
You
shoulda
see her face when Deborah
come
in wearing that dress.  In fact you
shoulda
see the nephew face too.  I peep at him and I
nearly burst out laughing to see how he was looking at your girl child. 
Hattie you better enjoy it while it last because he soon
goin
’
to be calling for Deborah instead of you.”

“Don’t say so, Cassie,” Sarah
begged her. “I don’ want no more trouble for Deborah.”

“He
ain
’
like Master William, you could see that,” comforted Cassie.

Just then the kitchen door burst
open and Jethro ran in, sweating and agitated.

“Where Deborah?
The
mistress want
to see her.”

“Why she send you? What she
want
?” asked Sarah standing up.

“I don’ know what Deborah do but
the mistress tell me to bring a whip and find Deborah.  She
want
me to flog Deborah. 
Losee
,
I don’t know what to do.  The
master never ask
me
to do anything like that.  How I supposed to flog Deborah? But I can’ tell
the mistress no.  I don’t know what to do.”  He paced up and down.

“Flog Deborah? 
For what?”
  Sarah’s voice rose in fear as she asked the
question but she already knew the answer. Dread pooled in her belly as she
realized that the mistress had at last found something that she could use to
punish Deborah.

“Oh loss, she
wait
‘til Master Thomas turn his back to plan this. What to do?”

“Jethro, have you found that
insolent girl yet?” The mistress’ voice penetrated the door before she pushed
it open.

“Where is Deborah?” She looked
around the room.

“She out picking herbs,” Hattie
volunteered, earning her glares from all the slaves.

“What she do, mistress?” asked
Sarah fearfully.

“As if you don’t
know.
  I should flog you as well!  I expect either the dress
or the rest of my material to be returned to me immediately and burn that dress
that Deborah wore to the party. Jethro, find her and bring her to the whipping
post in the yard.  It’s time to teach that girl a lesson.”

“It is my fault mistress. 
Flog me instead of Deborah.  She
didn
’ mean
nothing by it.  She didn’t like how the dress was fitting and the master
said...”

“Jethro, you heard me,” Elizabeth
interrupted, ignoring Sarah’s plea.  “If that girl is not stripped and
tied to the post in ten minutes, you will get the flogging instead.”  With
that she left the kitchen and went to sit in her favorite chair on the patio.

Pandemonium broke out in the
kitchen.  Sarah started to cry and Jethro looked torn as if he would cry
too.  He didn’t know what to do. He jumped when Deborah appeared at the
back door with her basket full of herbs.  Seeing her mother in tears, she
dropped the basket and rushed to her.

“What is the matter?”

In short time she discovered what
her fate was to be for rebelliously refusing to wear the same dress as the
other slaves.  She realized, too late, that she had played right into the
mistress’ hands.  She suddenly didn’t feel so brave when she saw the
leather whip in
Jethro’s
hand and the regret in his
eyes.

Panic flooded her as she recalled
seeing one of the runaway slaves tied to the whipping post and whipped until
his back was a crisscross of bleeding welts and his voice was too hoarse to cry
with the sting of each blow after a while. She began to shake and back away
from him.

“Sorry Deborah, but she say that
if I don’ do it, she
goin
’ whip me.  I sorry
girl, but I got to obey the mistress. I
gine
try not
to hit you too hard but I don’ know how you does stop a leather whip from
stinging.”  With that he pulled Deborah through the house to the patio
where the mistress was calmly rocking in her chair.

“This has been long in coming,”
the mistress said looking up.  “You’ve crossed me once too many
times.  Tie her to the post Jethro and gave her ten lashes.”

Deborah refused to give the
mistress the satisfaction of seeing her fear but her legs felt as if they
couldn’t hold her up as Jethro reluctantly pulled her into the yard.

“What’s going on, mother?” asked
Rachel as she and Mary appeared on the patio.

“Nothing that
concerns you.
Go back to your rooms until I tell you to come out,” she
instructed in a hard tone.  Being unaccustomed to their mother speaking so
harshly to them, they rushed to obey, lest they risked her wrath.

In the kitchen, Sarah was being
restrained by Cassie as she fought to go to help Deborah.

“I can’t let her scar up my
child.  Oh why the master not here today?  He would never let her do
this.  What to do Cassie? What to do?”

“Go and get Master Richard. 
He out by the plantain patch.
  Go quick!”  Cassie
released her and Sarah ran, knowing that she was racing against time.

Deborah was pulled over to the
whipping post by a reluctant Jethro and on the mistress’ instructions the back
of her dress was ripped open, exposing her back and falling away at the front
to reveal her naked breasts. Jethro loosely tied her hands to the post,
averting his eyes, all the while saying he was sorry that he had to do it or
else the mistress would do the same to him.

There were very few slaves around,
apart from the house slaves, to see her shame and for this she was glad. 
Images of whippings she had witnessed tormented her mind. Could she stand the
pain without crying out? She did not want to give the mistress the
satisfaction. Even as that thought entered her mind it was quickly replaced by
fear that made her body tremble against the warmth of the wooden post as Jethro
stepped back and raised the whip. 

Richard reined in his horse and
pulled up under a tree to watch the young slaves pulling weeds from among the
plantain trees.  Further down he saw some other children weeding the
vegetable gardens, laughing as they competed to see who had the biggest pile of
weeds.  The morning was beginning to heat up and it was looking to be
another beautiful, but hot, day in Barbados.  He realized with a start
that he didn’t even
miss
Carolina.

A sudden commotion caused his
horse to rear up slightly and he looked up to see Sarah rushing towards him
like a mad woman with fear in her eyes.  His heart missed a beat and he
swung down from his horse to meet her, knowing that something terrible must
have happened to Deborah.

“Master Richard, Master Richard,
come quick, come quick!” she panted. “The mistress making Jethro flog Deborah,”
she pulled at his hand in agitation, not realizing what she was doing.

“What?  Where is she?”

“The
whipping
post
in front the house.”

Richard jumped on his horse and
flew back in the direction that Sarah had come, not waiting to see if she
followed.  His breath came in quick bursts as he urged the horse to move
faster, envisioning Deborah tied to the post.  He remembered seeing the
drivers urging the slaves to work harder with a lash of the whip and his mind
protested at the thought of Deborah being subjected to that pain.

The sound of the leather whistling
through the air was the last thing Deborah heard before pain exploded across
her back and she couldn’t help the cry that escaped her lips as she felt the
searing burn of the whip. 

As Richard approached the house,
the sight of Deborah, stripped to the waist, with her hands tied to the post
and a welt already marring her back, sent a physical pain through him. He
caught sight of
Jethro’s
distraught face as he raised
the whip and brought it down again.

Richard cringed as Deborah arched
her back and another thick red welt appeared.

Tears involuntarily ran from her
eyes and Deborah knew that she could not survive eight more of those strokes
without humiliating herself.  How she wished she had never worn her own
dress. The few hours of pleasure at making her own choice could in no way
compensate for the fiery pain in her back. Too late she recognized that her
rebellion was wrong and it had done nothing but lead her right into the hands
of the mistress.

Where are you God? I confess I was
wrong. Will you stand by while I am whipped? She agonized silently. Do you not
care about me? The pain of rejection in her heart was almost as intense as the
pain in her back.

“Stop!”
 
She heard a shout.
“Stop Jethro!”
  The sound of
Richard’s voice penetrated the haze of her pain and she wept in relief. Had her
prayer been answered?  Was God real? Dare she believe that he cared about
her after all?

As Richard jumped from the horse
and grabbed
Jethro’s
hand in mid-air he glimpsed the
patent relief on the slave’s face.

Pushing Jethro out of the way he
quickly untied the rope that had loosely bound her hands and gently turned
Deborah who collapsed into his arms with tears streaming down her face.
 He cursed himself for his weakness but couldn’t help but look at her firm
breasts before he pulled up her torn dress to preserve her modesty. Shudders
shook her body as she buried her face in his shirt sobbing.

“What do you mean by interfering
here, Richard?” his aunt demanded rushing from the patio.

“Uncle Thomas would never condone
this, aunt,” he said angrily over Deborah’s head.  He couldn’t believe how
angry he was with her for punishing Deborah this way. “He told me himself that
the house slaves were never to be whipped because they’re too valuable to be
scarred.”

“The girl is insolent and deserves
to be taught a lesson!”

“I will let you take that up with
Uncle Thomas when he comes home but for now I ask that you leave her alone.”

His aunt stalked off without
another word and he handed Deborah over to Sarah who had finally made it into
the yard, breathing as if her heart would explode.

He strode angrily over to the
horse, climbed in the saddle and rode out without a backward glance. He knew
that he had probably made an enemy of his aunt and he was angry with her, angry
with himself and angry with Deborah for putting him in that position in the first
place.  He should have known from the time he set eyes on her that the
girl would cause him nothing but trouble.