Sydney and Fanny: The Price of Freedom

By Nathalie Rosamond Andrews

Sydney Jordan and Fanny Edwards are two emancipated slaves who continue to work on the white man's sugar plantation in Tobago.



Sydney falls in love with Fanny, the maid in the Great House and they get married.



Sydney soon discovers that Fanny is pregnant and questions whether he is the father.



Fanny eventually gives birth to a mixed race daughter whom she names Petra.



Fanny insists on keeping her secret and Sydney is devastated.



Petra's problems, as she grows up, are more than Sydney and Fanny can bear.



This is a thrilling, nerve-racking and thought-provoking story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookPartnership.com
• Release date: Sep 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781783015214

Book preview

England.

Book Review

Set in Tobago and in Saint Vincent in the 19th century, this story describes the life of Sydney and Fanny, two emancipated slaves who paid the price of freedom to truly love one other in a transitory existence.

Nathalie Rosamond Andrews writes with apparent simplicity, exploring sensitively through their Jives, the tragic effects of slavery - physical and mental abuse, dehumanization, the loss of innocence and self-esteem, superstition whilst at the same time accentuating the strength of the indomitable human spirit. Love, friendship, cooperation, selflessness and forgiveness are but a few of the positive qualities demonstrated by the two main characters and culminating in the heart of Petra, Fanny’s mulatto daughter.

I recommend strongly this West Indian novel which makes compulsive and easy reading. It has warmth and compassion born of pain and suffering.

Judith S. Jones-Morgan

15th January 2008

Book Review

Nathalie Rosamond Andrews, in the above-mentioned novel, takes us down memory lane to nineteenth century Caribbean life. It is a return to the African slave trade, the middle passage, plantation slavery and the life of freed slaves through the experiences of the central characters - Sydney Jordan and his wife Fanny, nee Edwards.

The novel offers a poignant contrast to present day Caribbean lifestyles, as we reflect on the lives of our ancestors. We examine fabrics and dress styles, food preparation and diet, housing stock and living standards, agricultural and other economic activities, social and cultural structures and practices and educational development. It is indeed a reflection of From Whence We Came, especially to the descendants of Africans.

We are also given brief glimpses of life in Africa as Sydney often reflects on his early life in Sierra Leone, especially his mother’s cooking. The broken dreams of a promising relationship between Fanny and Sydney, early in their marriage are a grim reminder of the toll of slavery on the lives of the slaves, and even the emancipated slaves. Fanny dreamt of having a large family; Sydney dreamt of being a successful husband and father. They were given a taste of freedom but Massa still ruled the day. It was for them a bitter price to pay.

On the positive side, the novel helps to trace the development of modern Caribbean society amidst the challenges and struggles of our communities, our nations and our region, throughout the nineteenth century.

Recommended reading for all ages.

F. Irwin Jack

Chapter One

Run boy, run, shouted a voice from the topmost branch of an old Starch Mango tree. Seconds later came another shout, more distinct than the first, from an exceptionally tall coconut tree which leaned dangerously over a fast running river. They’re going to catch you boy.

Ten year old Sydney Jordan knew that he was in serious trouble on that Sunday morning in May 1805. He was being chased by two strange men whom he was told captured and sold young black men to rich Europeans to work as slaves on their sugar plantations in the Caribbean.

Sydney was born in Sierra Leone in 1795, on the west coast of Africa. He spent the first ten years of his life living with his mother in a wattle and daub house just outside Freetown. He was the last of four boys whose father had disappeared mysteriously, soon after Sydney was born. All he knew of his father was what his mother had told him. He spent most of his spare time searching for his lost father.

Sydney was dark brown in complexion, stockily built and looked more like a fifteen year old than a boy of ten years. He walked around with a nervous grin which exposed a set of strong, milk white teeth growing out of blue-black gums.

The footsteps which followed Sydney seemed to be getting closer, in spite of the fact that he tried to run faster. Mid morning was hot and dry and dust was getting into his large brown eyes. Thinking that he was far ahead of the two men, Sydney slowed a bit, and before he realized how tired he was, he collapsed in a large heap near to a clump of guava bushes.

I can’t run any more, he said to himself. He tried to crawl under the bushes to hide from his pursuers and shade himself from the hot sun. Suddenly, he felt a weight on himself. It was a man, a fat, white man on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

We’ve got you, he said, struggling with Sydney.

Another man who looked older and thinner than the first one couldn’t check his speed and leapt over Sydney and his catcher who were still struggling on the ground.

Sydney knew that these were the two men who captured young men and sold them as slaves.

Where is my Papa? Sydney cried.

We’re taking you to meet him, replied the older man, as he chained both of Sydney’s hands together behind his back and blindfolded him.

What’s your name? asked his catcher.

Sydney, and I’m only ten, he stuttered.

You strong enough to work. Let’s go.

Both men pulled Sydney off the ground and stood him upright.

Go where? asked Sydney.

To the West Indies, they snapped in unison.

Is my Papa there?

You sure are right, they replied, as if they had rehearsed their reply.

Come and join these men. Let’s walk, said his catcher, whose voice he came to recognize. Sydney felt when a loop of chain was thrown over his head and it dropped around his neck. They had walked for what Sydney thought was about an hour and he suddenly found himself dragging his bare feet through warm, wet sand. He could smell the freshness of the breeze and hear the breaking of the waves. He knew that he was walking on the seashore. He could hear other men speaking in a strange language. Following the sound of their chains, he realized that they were pulling and tugging each other in an effort to get away and free themselves.

Number off, shouted the older man.

Sydney listened as they shouted from number one to number six who seemed to be next to him. Therefore, he had to be number seven. It seemed that they were chained in batches of seven as there was no one after him in that batch. He heard no noises after him.

Given orders to walk, Sydney and his batch started walking to the water’s edge. He could feel the sand get wetter and wetter. The chains around his neck seemed to be heavier than before. The wind was very strong. They waded through the breaking waves, falling and spluttering until they reached a boat which was tossing from side to side in the rough water. The older man helped Sydney to climb on to the boat.

My name is Jim, he said.

It was a very painful experience. Finally, everyone climbed on to the boat. Sydney could feel the bruises on his neck and shoulders. His blindfold was taken off and so were his handcuffs. It was necessary for them to see the little manhole through which they had to drop to the bottom of the boat. There, beneath the deck were several other black men packed like sardines in a tin, still chained and lying on the floor, with no room to move. Jim found a small space into which he pushed Sydney’s batch of seven.

Lie down and make yourselves comfortable, he said sarcastically, with a sly grin.

They all screamed and banged on the hard wooden floor. The boat rocked heavily as it set sail for the West Indies. For a brief moment, Sydney thought it was going to sink.

Sydney felt sick. It was past lunch time and he had very little breakfast that morning. His head was spinning and he was frothing at the mouth.

What’s wrong with you boy? shouted Jim, as he kicked Sydney’s ankles. Sydney was almost too hungry to speak.

Give me some water please, he muttered. Jim brought him a cup of water but when he tasted it, the salt was more than he could take. It was sea water and he couldn’t drink it, so he lay quietly in his chains.

The sea was rough and the days and nights were long. The boat rode the waves, plunging from the crest to what seemed to be the bottom of the sea. The men, lying prostrate on the floor, inhaled the horrible smell of both filth and vomit which had completely enveloped them. They bellowed and groaned while their heads literally swam in their own and their neighbour’s vomit.

God help me, shouted one of the men in Sydney’s batch. The shout soon became a whisper and then there was silence. The inevitable had happened. He was unshackled and thrown overboard into the foaming ocean.

Sydney wept until he fell asleep. He dreamt of the sugar cane fields, the cotton plantations, the horses and donkeys and streams of running water that his Mama had told him about. What he didn’t dream of was that in years to come he would be the step-father of a girl called Petra.

In July 1805, Sydney’s ship arrived in Rockly Bay, Scarborough. Sydney was weak and his temples were thumping. The sunlight was too strong for his big brown eyes, after being so long in the dark recesses of the ship. He was unsteady on his feet as he shaded his eyes with his unshackled hands. All the survivors of the cross Atlantic voyage were lined up on the beach, while strange men dashed buckets of sea water over their foul smelling bodies, to clean off the vomit and filth that still clung to their hair and armpits. They were then bundled into a cart pulled by two large donkeys, to be taken to the Bacolet Sugar Estate. Sydney took one last look at the boat as it Jay anchored in the harbour, with its sails still bulging, and seemingly proud of its safe arrival at its destination.

Chapter Two

Sydney’s eyes soon got used to the glare of the bright sunshine which bathed his bare back. The donkeys climbed slowly up the Main Street on their way to Bacolet. Sydney gazed at Fort George, the English fortress which overlooked Rockly Bay. He wondered how long they would have to wait before getting something to eat. Suddenly, the donkeys made a right turn into more level terrain and he hoped that it would not be too long before they arrived on the sugar cane estate. He saw the Anglican and Roman Catholic churches along the way, with newly moulded graves set in rows around them. They passed some board houses where he was told the overseers lived. Sydney wished that the cart driver would stop at one of them, but he was always disappointed when the donkeys whipped up more speed. He lay back in despair. When are we going to get there? asked Number Five.

The next entrance, replied the cart driver.

Sydney tried to sit up and open his eyes as widely as he could, to be the first to spot the next entrance which would lead to the estate. With a loud Whoa from the cart driver, followed by a sudden halt by the donkeys, they had arrived.

Here we are, said Jim. Jump out!

Sydney wasn’t sure that the muscles in his thighs and legs had relaxed enough for him to jump without pain. He hesitated and looked thoughtfully at the height of the cart from the ground.

Boy, get off the cart, shouted Jim. Sydney crashed to the ground. He grimaced and yelled, Papa, help me.

A tall, white man in khaki trousers and white shirt sleeves replied, Your Papa is dead, he can’t help you, so stand up and be a man.

He was one of the overseers. You’re no longer a little boy. You’ve got to work, he said. Sydney felt as though every inch of his intestines was knotted and these knots were revolving at full speed in his abdomen. He tried to ignore this horrible sensation as he walked into the long barracks which was to be his home for many years.

See this, said the overseer, as he clapped the long whip which he used to beat the slaves. You get this on your back if you try to run away, so never try to leave this place.

Sydney trembled when he saw the size and length of the whip.

Come and see these four boxes over here in this corner, called the overseer.

Each one was left open to show the contents.

This one has salted pork. The next one has salted beef and those two have salted fish and herrings. Which one you want boy? You supposed to have enough to last you for a week.

I’m not a boy now sir, I am a man, said Sydney, believing that he would receive a man’s portion instead of a boy’s.

You learning fast, said the overseer as he glared at Sydney. "You niggers are