Chapter 23: Randolph and Angelique

We resume our journey early the next morning. This time we take the correct fork in the track we were following yesterday. After about half-an-hour we come to a banana plantation bordering one of the many rivers that flow from the central mountains to the east coast. This, presumably, is where Randolph was heading, since there doesn’t appear to be any other track leading away from the plantation.

“What do you three want?” asks a rough looking man whose whip coiled on his belt marks him as a slave overseer.

“We were told that my brother travelled here a few days ago. We’re looking for him,” I reply.

“You mean the idiot who tried to steal one of my slaves?” replies the overseer.

“My brother may be an idiot, but he isn’t a slave stealer,” I retort. “Is he still here?”

“Yes. I locked him in the punishment cage to teach him a lesson,” growls the overseer. “I paid good money for Angel, and I don’t take kindly to anyone trying to take her away.”

The overseer’s reference to Angel immediately alerts me to the likelihood we have discovered the target of Randolph’s search. Randolph may be impulsive, but he wouldn’t do anything this rash without being certain that this Angel is his twin sister, Angelique.

“What do you intend to do with Randolph?” demands Charity.

“Hmm. Well, I was going to wait another day before releasing him, but since you’re here I’m sure we can negotiate an early release,” the vile man says, rubbing his crotch so that his meaning is clear.

“And what about Angel?” I ask, sensing Randolph isn’t going to simply walk away without doing something to free Angel from slavery.

“Well that would be something we could discuss at length. Angel’s a good worker, and red hot in bed. Slaves like her aren’t easy to replace in these days of emancipation and restrictions on the slave trade.”

Martinique once housed a massive slave population, but many slaves have now been emancipated. Indentured servitude has replaced outright slavery, although in most cases there’s not a lot of difference. Shipping new slaves from Africa has been outlawed by many countries that were once active in the trade. This overseer is clearly like Henri, a man firmly wedged in antiquated customs and practises that belong in the past.

“Before we negotiate anything, we want to see Randolph and Angel,” says Samantha. “We aren’t going to offer much for damaged goods.”

The overseer grumbles, but doesn’t refuse Samantha’s request. He barks an order to another man who goes to fetch Randolph. Meanwhile he escorts the three of us to the small jetty where six slaves are loading boxes of bananas onto a boat. The river is too narrow and shallow for sea going ships to navigate, so presumably this boat will ferry its load to a ship waiting at the river mouth.

I don’t need the overseer to help me identify Angel. She’s one of the slaves working at the jetty. Her likeness to Randolph is unmistakable. Sure enough the overseer calls her over to where we are waiting. Angel keeps her head lowered and she clasps her hands behind her back. She seems fit and healthy although her swollen belly suggests that she’s six or seven months pregnant.

The overseer’s assistant frog-marches Randolph to where we are waiting. His wrists and ankles are shackled and he looks in worse condition than Angel.

“Hah! Brother and sister reunited! Twins, no less!” laughs the overseer, as though he’s only just noticed the connection between Randolph and Angel.