Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

ON BOARD THE ESPERANZA, WEST ATLANTIC OCEAN

Afia curled into herself on her pallet near the door, and tried very hard not to listen to what was going on in the big bed, that took up a substantial amount of space in the cabin. Eventually it stopped and she slept.

In the morning as she dressed her mistress, Ana chattered to her. The conversation was halting and a bit one sided as Afia tried to master the Portuguese language, but Ana was patient and happy to explain with gestures what the words meant. Emboldened by this, Afia asked, “are there male slaves on the ship?”

Ana frowned trying to decipher the question and after a bit of too and fro she smiled and nodded, “Sim, sim!” Which meant yes.

The ship had got under way last night and the African coast was a smudge in the distance this morning. She went below to the kitchens to fetch her mistress’s breakfast.

Waiting for the tray to be made up she asked in halting Portuguese, “Onde estão os escravos homens?” Where are the male slaves?

Eventually she worked out that they were located on deck three below the women’s deck.

Armed with this information she returned to Ana’s cabin with her breakfast and then begged permission to take a turn round the top deck for some air. Ana, who seemed inclined to want to stay in the cabin gave her leave, and she slipped out and found her way to the lower deck.

There were two Hispanic guards lounging round the entrance. They were ratty looking and ill kempt, with scraggly beards and lank hair. They sat on the floor drinking grog, despite the early hour, playing a game with a dirty pack of well-worn cards.

She approached them nervously and the one nearest her looked up from his fist full of cards and raised his eyebrows at her.

She gestured towards the door, and he laughed and said something to his companion, who also laughed. He dropped his cards and rose, grabbing her arm and shoving her up against the wall, his hand going to the buttons on his filthy breeches.

Divining his intent, she kneed him in the crotch, reefed herself out of his grip, and fled, as he doubled over and roared with pain. She scrambled up the ladder to the next deck and the next, reaching the top deck and looking around. There were plenty of people about, but she rapidly realised they were all Hispanic men, and she suddenly realised how conspicuous she was. She dived across the deck to the entrance under the quarterdeck and re-entered the main cabin, her heart thudding loudly in her breast. Her skin prickling with panic at how close she had come to being assaulted.

If she was to have any hope of finding Omari, or helping the women, she needed to enlist Ana’s help. Wandering around the decks on her own was too dangerous. But would the Portuguese woman be interested in helping her?

That evening, Ana and the captain dined together in the cabin and Afia waited on them. She watched avidly as they ate the roasted fowl, glazed vegetables, the buttered fish and rich cheeses, fruit and olives. Her mouth salivating with the delicious smells. She longed to taste but didn’t dare without permission.

She returned from the kitchen with the dessert, a custard tart and jelly with fruit, and walked in on a heated argument.

What sparked it she couldn’t make out, but it escalated quickly, and Afia learned her mistress had a temper. When she slapped his face, Perez own temper snapped, and he rounded on Ana and lifting her off her feet plunked her down across his knee and raising her skirts spanked her hard on her bare rump.

Afia averted her eyes at this display and retreated to the corner of the room. Behind her she listened to Ana’s squeals but concluded that they were not ones of terror. At least not initially.

“Querida, you will obey me, or you will get hurt! I am stronger than you! Comprendo?” Perez’ voice sent a shiver down Afia’s spine.

The muffled sob from Ana, would seem to be an assent.

Afia glanced over her shoulder and watched as Perez, righted Ana on his lap and lifted her face for a kiss. He caught Afia staring and snapped, “take the dishes away.”

Afia gathered up the dishes and scuttled back to the kitchen. She waited around for a while before she ventured back to the cabin and found Ana asleep. There was no sign of Perez.

Afia was curled up on her mattress near the door when Perez came back. He seemed a bit the worse for drink by his unsteady gait. He was not quiet, as he disrobed and climbed into the big bed.

“Querida? I’m sorry.” His voice was plaintive. “Forgive me.”

“You hurt me!” came the petulant answer.

“I warned you – don’t try my temper.”

“I am sore and bruised…”

“I’m sorry Ana. I love you. I am a difficult man. You drive me mad, querida. Here let me…” his voice dropped, and Afia tried to tune out the rest.

“Raphael!” Ana’s moan broke through Afia’s attempts to block out what they were doing.