The Fountain

By Michael Kelley

The Fountain, a novella by Michael Kelley set against the backdrop of political turmoil that readers will find familiar, describes the discovery by a middle-age couple that eternal youth can have a downside. James and Peg Sanders had not thought much about a family legend dating to the 17th Century, but the legend would eventually become the centerpiece of their lives. The legend linked their fate with a shipload of Africans, led by a charismatic shaman and aided by a sympathetic crew member by the name of James Sanders, who managed to escape confinement from the docks of Charleston, S.C., and avoid a lifetime of slavery. Centuries later, the modern day Sanders couple would have to engineer an escape of their own to avoid capture by overzealous local authorities.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Kelley
• Release date: Sep 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005825874

Michael Kelley

I am a former newspaper reporter, columnist and editorial writer now working as a freelance writer in Santa Fe, N.M. I grew up in Joplin, Mo., and spent most of my career in Memphis, Tennessee, where I also earned a masters degree in English with a concentration on linguistics. My novel, Tent City, is set in 1960 Mississippi against the backdrop of the voting rights movement. My novella, Fred and June: Journeys, is about a transgender woman and her boyhood friend. My latest piece, The Fountain, is about a middle-age couple who discover that eternal youth can have a downside.

Book preview

The Fountain

By Michael Kelley

Distributed by Smashwords

Copyright 2010 Michael Kelley

Discover other titles by Michael Kelley

Tent City: A Mississippi Story

Fred and June: Journeys

Cover Illustration by Kate Kelley

THE THREE-MASTED cargo ship coasted through a light evening fog into Charleston Bay, emitting the smell of sweat, human waste and anxiety among some 300 Africans who had been held in unsanitary conditions the entire length of the journey. Standing on the deck, James Sanders – the first James Sanders, whose descendants for many generations to follow would name their sons James to honor his legacy – could feel nothing but shame for the role he had played in the ship’s mission.

A native of London’s East End, Sanders had made a spur-of-the-moment decision to sign on to the crew of the vessel solely out of a desire to see America. He had never been anywhere outside England. He had never tested his capacity for seasickness on anything larger than the little fishing boat he and his father used on occasional fishing trips on inland lakes. He had never seen a slave before in his life, nor had he considered the implications of the Peculiar Institution. The journey through the Middle Passage awakened him to its horrors. He arrived with a desire to pay whatever price it would take to atone for the misery he had helped inflict on what he had come to realize were fellow members of the human race.

"I never imagined the depth of cruel and inhuman treatment to which ordinary men could descend until we left Senegal’s Goree Island with our ‘cargo’ of men, women and children, James, a devout Christian, wrote in a diary entry dated the 2nd of May, 1699. May God have mercy on our souls, as little as we deserve forgiveness for our merciless treatment of these most unfortunate of God’s children. Yesterday, I watched a group of children as they watched crew members toss two of their elders unceremoniously into the sea. The poor creatures had succumbed to illness, which was not surprising considering the miserable conditions in which they had been living. The children’s faces bore looks of anguish as their minds struggled to grasp the meaning of an experience that no doubt will haunt them throughout their lives, which may not last much longer if the rate of deaths aboard this god-forsaken vessel continues to mount."

After five weeks in a below-deck compartment with ceilings a mere 4 and a half feet off the floor, the men shackled in pairs, the women unbound, with no plumbing and no ventilation in practically unbearable heat, exposed to diseases that had whittled the number of passengers from its original 368, the slaves were a miserable lot indeed.

Their diet had consisted of small portions of rice and beans, their exposure to fresh air limited to eight hours a day on deck. They had been forced to entertain the restless crew with dance and song. Men and women had been kept apart throughout the journey. Many of the women arrived in America pregnant with children fathered by crew members. Many of the men bore swollen scars on their backs from lashings administered with a cat o’ nine tails when they complained or were rumored to be a threat to rebel. Hope among this legally sanctioned cargo had largely disappeared.

Like animals that had been caged too long to believe in freedom, the would-be slaves hesitated briefly when James, who was among the more quiet and unoffending members of the crew, showed up late the night of their arrival outside the steel cage in which they were being held on Gadsden’s Wharf, knocked a watchman unconscious with an iron pipe and successfully applied a stolen hacksaw to the lock.

When they realized what had happened, the would-be slaves eagerly emerged and gathered around their liberator. Despite the hopelessness, despite the wide variety of languages they spoke and the many customs they did not share, the captives had surreptitiously managed to form a loose sort of alliance should the opportunity to escape ever arise. They chose as their leader a tall, muscular, intelligent, charismatic and composed fellow who had served as a minor chief among his Igbo tribesmen.

The man emerged from the group, stood face to face with Sanders and with gestures and the rudimentary English he had acquired on the journey introduced himself. Mbeke, whose descendants for many generations to follow would name their sons Mbeke, to honor his legacy, announced his intention to lead the group’s flight to freedom, communicated his thanks the best he could, inquired as to their liberator’s name and nationality and indicated that he or his descendants, whatever happened, would always be thankful for the first James Sanders’ brave and selfless act. James or his descendants would some day be repaid for the great favor, this Mbeke promised. The Englishman answered the leader’s questions and told him not to worry about the debt. It was he, Sanders said, who owed much to Mbeke and his followers for the cruelty they had been forced to endure. He said he and his kin would be glad to help in the future in any way they could.

The multi-tribal collection of Africans slipped off into the darkness and, traveling at night, followed the valley of the Edisto River northward, struggling through brackish marshes where no dogs could follow their scent and sleeping in hollowed out earthen hiding places during the day. On the third day of their journey, they were surprised in camp by a sympathetic Kusso-Natchez hunting party that fed and clothed the escapees and generously offered guidance through the low country. Eluding capture with considerable help from their new indigenous friends, they fled north and then west to the relative security of the Piedmont Plateau, then turned south again, following the directions they had been given by the natives, with whom they had quickly formed a common bond. They eventually reached the nearly impenetrable swamps of Florida and settled into a life that was isolated and hard, hardly idyllic but self-sufficient and free, dreaming of one day returning to the motherland.

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JAMES COULDN’T wait to tell Peg about his new doctor, who was young and female and tall and slender. And Japanese. And who had the hands of a concert pianist. And who listened. Really listened. In fact, the entire experience was so much better than what he was used to at his old doctor’s office. The same sagging seats, the same sort of wall art depicting scenes vaguely passing for the Italian countryside, the same crisp, smiling, efficient young female staff. The television set was tuned to the same shallow but likeable morning talk show cast