The African Duke: Love in the slave trade

By Malcolm John Baker

John and Angel are childhood sweethearts in Nigeria in the year 1750. Slave traders capture Angel while John is away delivering animals he has collected for zoos in Europe. Angel is taken to Lagos as a slave and sold to the shippers to take her to Cuba as a concubine for the slaves. When John hears of this, he sets out on a trip to Cuba to rescu

• Language: English
• Publisher: Malcolm John Baker's Publishing House
• Release date: Mar 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781954168664

Malcolm John Baker

Malcolm John Baker was born in Salisbury, England, in 1945. By trade, he was a chartered surveyor and practised in South London, England. Now retired, he lives in the United States in Florida.

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The African Duke

Copyright © 2021 by Lord Malcolm John Baker

Acknowledgments

I want to thank Jefferson of First Editing for his work in editing the book and his inspiration for the project. As always, he has done a first-class job interpreting my British into American English.

I would also like to thank Emma Smith of Chapters Media for her untiring help in the publication’s production and, particularly, for the cover of this book. Excellent job, Emma.

Lastly, I would like to thank all those first responders, doctors, and nurses who have taken all these risks during the COVID-19 pandemic to help the whole world. Especially Dr. Mercedes Madar, my partner and Lady of the Manor of Hougun, who is in the emergency room every day looking after the sick. You all do a fantastic job Merci. Thank you.

Let’s hope that everyone gets the vaccine quickly; I had mine a month ago.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Other books by Lord Malcolm John Baker

Revenge Is Mine

From a Jack to a King

Daylight Robbery

Which is the Clone?

Annabelle

Merlin Series.

Merlin’s Secret

Merlin’s Shakespeare Encounter

Merlin’s French Encounter

Merlin’s American Encounter

Coming soon.

The Key

Malcolm’s websites are.

www.malcolmjohnbaker.us

www. malcolmjohnbaker.com

email [e-mail]

In a small village on the coast of Senegal, Africa, in 1749, a meeting is held in a leaking timber hut. Senegal is a tiny country on the bulge of Africa. The slave traders have called the meeting, and present are representatives of the shipping companies of England, Spain, and Holland and the natives who have been capturing their countrymen to be slaves for the colonies on the other side of the world. English will be the language used, as everyone understands at least some of it.

There are three traders, all hefty black men from the local area, in their forties. They are concerned that the supply of captives is slowing down. Their trade depends on these men, who were like the Mafia of their day. They are ruthless and barbaric, treating their captives as animals. The whip is administered without a second thought, and they will kill as an example to the other captives.

The captain of the English ship says, "I would like to introduce John Newton. He will become captain of the Pegasus when I retire next month. Please give him the courtesy you have shown me over the years."

John stands up and acknowledges all present.

The traders’ leader is not interested in such formalities; he doesn’t care who captains the ship, only who produces the slaves. He starts the meeting. We are falling behind on our quotas of slaves for transportation. My bosses in the Caribbean are complaining about this with every ship that returns. That will cause everyone here, and more importantly, the companies they represent, a severe loss of income. What is happening, Baharti? This is down to you. Get your men out there working. Use the whip more if necessary, treat your men as an army. Just get the job done and find more men.

Baharti stands up. He is a man of about thirty, only dressed in a loincloth, and his chest is scarred diagonally from the slash of a sword some years ago while fighting a soldier. Sir, we have cleared out the area of suitable men. You have told us that our captives must be subservient. We could bring you hunters and warriors, but they would likely cause trouble on the ships or where they are used as slaves, as you stated before. Following your instructions, we have only been collecting the weaker souls and those of a simple nature. Using the whip will not help anyone.

Yes, there are limitations on the men’s characters, but you need to spread the net wider. Go further into the jungle and along the coast, says the leader.

We have already covered a range of two hundred miles in every direction; any further would involve logistical problems of transportation, says Baharti. We have kept a count of all those we send to you, and it is currently at twenty thousand men and five thousand women. How many people do you think there are in this area? he says forcefully.

He does have a point, one of the other traders says, and everyone nods. One of the captain’s mutters, You can’t get blood out of a stone.

Hm, then we must consider plan B, the leader says as he looks around at everyone.

John Newton, a newcomer to these meetings, feels this is an excellent juncture to raise another problem. His problem is with the transportation of captives to the ships, which have to be anchored offshore as there is no port large enough to dock them.

There is a problem with docking at this location. If we have exhausted the supply of prisoners, we should consider another location. While I am vehemently against slavery, we must have proper access to a port for everyone’s safety. A captive could easily turn over the rowboats if he rebelled. The ships have to stay way out to sea, as the coastline is shallow here.

A good point, John, if I may call you that, and that also brings me to my plan B, says the leader. "It seems to me we have exhausted this area and must move down south. I’ve had scouts searching for suitable areas further south; they have found a location at a small area known as Lagos in a country called Nigeria. It is about two thousand miles from here.

There is a dock there large enough for any of your ships, as it is already a trading stop on the route to Europe. That would comply with your requirements, John, and there will be a completely new supply of men in that region, as the area has not been hunted.

That would mean my men would have to move down there. How would they get there, and where would they live? asks the native.

We will have one of the ships transport you all there. Accommodations will be the same as you have here, tents. Are you prepared to move? If not, I am sure others will take up the calling with pleasure. As you know, there is no work for anyone in Africa that provides the income we are paying.

The native is annoyed, knowing that he might be ditched without recourse, but he knows the trader is right; his men do not want to lose the money. In that case, you give us no choice. I will come down with you. Some of my men will, and others won’t, but they can be replaced easily enough at this Lagos, wherever that is.

That settles it, then, says the leader. You have your men and their wives if they want to take them, but there are plenty of women where you are going, Baharti, and I will arrange with one of you good captains to transport the collectors to Lagos. Will one of you step up for this?

The Dutch captain says, We will carry them, but they must be ready the day after next. My employers are expecting me to return with slaves, so you must go straight out into the jungle and bring back a shipload, Baharti.

Very good, says Baharti.

At that, the meeting breaks up. Baharti goes to his men and tells them the news. Everyone is happy to move south, but none of them want to take their women. One says, What do we want to take our women for? There will be plenty more down south, and a change is always good, particularly if they are young ones.

At the designated time, everyone goes to the small pier to take the rowboat out to the Dutch ship. The journey to Lagos takes seven days, but as promised, there is a dock onshore.

Africa is still an almost unknown continent; only the far east and west coasts have been explored. None of the European states have claimed ownership of land there yet.

CHAPTER ONE

In a clearing in Nigeria’s jungle, near Lagos, ten native farmers work in the fields, tending corn, which is ready for harvesting. It has been a good year for corn; the weather has been kind so far, with plenty of hot sunshine in the early summer, unusual in this country, but they need to harvest before the monsoons start. There are already signs in the sky of the approaching monsoon.

Dark clouds have been gathering in the sky for some days now and are moving in fast from the east; the local inhabitants understand that the rains will soon be here. It happens every year at this time, and the fields will soon be flooded for several weeks, under at least six inches of water. In a bad year, the depth can be two feet, and the village will be without food for months on end. It is imperative to store food for these occasions. The flooding that results will damage the village, with mudslides bringing down some houses. These are hard areas for humans to live in, but there is nowhere else for these people.

The farmers are the needier members of the tribe; they are the simple folk who are not up to joining the tribe hunters. There is a definite hierarchy in the tribe, from the chief down to the farmers. The hunters are out today, hunting animals in the jungle for food, mainly any of the various antelopes that roam the area in profusion. Still, the hunters need to be wary of lions, which will attack any animal, man included, for food. Zebras and even monkeys are other delicacies that the tribe enjoys.

As the farmers tend the plants, they are alert for vipers sleeping in the corn. Vipers are incredibly poisonous and will attack any creature that comes near them. The men do not notice that twelve burly male natives from nearby villages are progressing through the forest, toward their clearing, quietly moving from tree to tree to avoid being seen. They do not want the villagers to make a run for it; that makes their job more difficult and time-consuming. These natives are well-built men, tall, and look as though they could fight an ox.

The intruders get to the edge of the field, and their leader signals to attack. These attackers do not carry knives; they cannot harm their prey, so they can only use truncheons. The twelve men rush forward, shouting abuse. Each man seeks out a farmer and dives on him while he is bending down over the plants.

The farmers do not stand a chance, as intended. Each man is knocked out with a truncheon, and while unconscious, their hands are tied with strong vines. When they come to, they are led to the edge of the jungle, where the attackers have left a long chain.

One man did not make it; he was hit too hard in the head, causing a brain hemorrhage, and he died immediately. When his assailant went back to him, he thought he was faking and tried to pull him up until he realized the man was limp and dead. Not caring, he pushed the man aside. Life is cheap in Africa, and survival of the fittest is the name of the game.

Each man is linked to the chain by strong twine tied around their wrist. The attackers congratulate themselves by jumping up and down and bouncing into each other. They then lead the captives off into the jungle, heading to Lagos on the coast, where they will be transferred onto a slave ship heading to the New World.

*     *     *

It is New Year’s Day in 1750, the start of a new decade, but will this one be any better than the last one? While there are grand celebrations worldwide in all the capitals of Europe, in the small villages in Africa’s coastal regions, no one knows what year it was, let alone decade. The inhabitants don’t care, either; one day is just like another to them. Life is about survival in these desolate areas, coping with natural disasters as well as human ones.

The main town of the region is Lagos. At that time, the area runs on a traditional basis. There is no central government; each tribe runs its own area, and tribes are continually fighting each other to increase their size and importance. The chiefs are learning that the larger the tribe, the less likely they will be attacked by others.

Traders from Europe arrive regularly at the Port of Lagos for oils and palm products. Recently some traders have also wanted wild animals to supplement the zoological gardens being set up all over Europe. European cities’ residents want to see these strange new animals called elephants and lions. They are at the top of the list of requirements.

In London, the Tower of London, the great fortification built by William the Conqueror seven hundred years ago to put fear into London’s inhabitants and dissuade an adversary from attacking, is being used as a menagerie. Residents of the area are amazed to see these animals, which will eventually be transferred to form the London Zoo at Regents Park. These animals come from all over the world, where England has an influence, but mainly from Africa.

The interior of the region beyond Lagos consists of many small villages, all of which are self-ruled and tribal. Each community comprises about sixty timber and mud houses with thatched roofs. The houses are constructed of fifteen-foot-long tree trucks sunk into the ground three feet and laid together to form the outside walls.

Mud is then smeared into the gaps. That building work is done in the dry season so the soil can set hard and the mud can be reapplied to make sure the seal is good, and the hut is waterproof before the wet season starts. The rain beats down in torrents, and each home must be watertight by that time; otherwise, the house will be unliveable.

The villages have their hierarchy and are self-sufficient. Each village is constructed in a cleared woodland area, and the houses are arranged in a large circle. Behind each house is a small garden for vegetables and unusually a tethered cow to supply milk and eventually meat when the cow is old. A barter system exists between the residents to exchange goods and all services.

Some residents are carpenters, and they make furniture from the trees in the nearby jungle; others are wheelwrights maintaining the wagons. Every trade is represented, so the village, which has simple needs, is self-sufficient. Meat is provided by the hunters, who go into the jungle seeking antelope and other fresh meat. On a bad day, they have to settle for a rabbit or the wild birds that roam the forest.

The occupants of these villages are all dark-skinned. They wear lightweight coverings over their genitals to protect them; otherwise, they are naked. Today Angel is waiting for the return of her man. She is one of the young ladies of the village, a truly dark-skinned beauty of twenty-one years old, or so she thinks; that is what her mother told her. There are no calendars, but the residents count the number of rainy seasons to distinguish a year. Time is relative in these remote communities.

Today Angel spends considerable time making her face beautiful. Village women use the abundant palm oil to beautify themselves; she rubs the oil into her short, curly hair to make it shine. She wishes her hair was longer, but all native hair is similar: short and curly. Jewelry is in the form of animal teeth or bones; some girls even pierce their earlobes and put teeth or palm leaves through them.

They do not have mirrors but use a bowl of water to create a reflection of themselves. Angel knows she must look her best for the return of her man, John, who has been out hunting for the last week. He is one of the most desirable men in the village, where he is held in high esteem. Several girls have their eyes on him, but Angel is prepared to do whatever is necessary to make him hers.

Angel looks at her reflection in the water bowl and is pleased with her appearance as she holds out her chest to make her breasts full. They are really appealing, she thinks, admiring her dark nipples, that she squeezes to make them stand out. She knows John will admire her breasts, as he always does. She knows he loves to feel them. Just don’t you feel any others, she whispers to herself.

She’s often wondered why she is named Angel; it is not an African name. Her mother told her that years ago, a Christian missionary came to the village and converted many villagers to this new religion, which only has one god, who sent his son Jesus to save the world. Before that, they prayed to all gods of nature: the sun, stars, and all the trees in the jungle.

Her mother told her she thought it was because the man Jesus had white skin. No one had ever seen a person with white skin before.

She said, Everyone thought he was God himself and believed everything he said.

When Angel is satisfied that she looks her best, she goes outside and waits in the shade. The young children play in the sunshine, pretending to fight a war, shooting pretend arrows at each other, and then fighting with make-belief swords. An hour later, she sees her man approaching out of the jungle.

He looks splendid as he walks toward her, a six-foot man of twenty-three years. Like all Africans, his skin is black and shiny, and his hair is short and curly. He carries a Thompson gazelle on his shoulders. Its throat has been cut, and blood runs down John’s body. She rushes over to him and embraces him, and the antelope, too.

He feels her nipples pushing against his chest, and he likes it. We will eat well tonight, my love, he says.

I love antelope, as you know, she says.

That’s why I killed it for you, darling, but we’ll eat the one that has been hanging in the shed tonight; this one will be ready in seven days.

He throws the catch off his shoulders and kisses Angel passionately. How did your trip go? Did you catch any wild animals? she asks.

Oh, yes, we did well. Matthew and I caught a lion and, would you believe it, a leopard. We have two zebras and a tame elephant in the coral at the back of the village. The cats are, of course, in cages. Matthew is watching over them tonight. In the meantime, I will take this meal to the smokehouse to preserve it.

How did you catch the lion and leopard? Angel says.

We put bait into the cages, and they simply climbed in. Mind you; it took a lot of waiting; we had to hide close by to rush out and drop the doors of the cage to trap them.

You’re so clever. Angel looks at him in awe.

The zebra was more straightforward, we have these traps that have been dug out and covered with branches and leaves, and they simply fall in. We leave them in there for a couple of days, by which time they are tired from trying to get out. We can them climb in and tie them up; they seem to have lost the incentive to fight by then. We can then haul them up, and hey presto.

As he leaves Angel to take the antelope to the smokehouse and collect tonight’s dinner, he calls back, We will take the animals to Lagos tomorrow. A trader is expected to give us a good price. He needs the animals for a zoological garden in Amsterdam. Tonight I’m yours, and I need you. It’s been so long. He says as he can feel himself hardening.

You’re telling me, she says. I think it might be sealing up. She laughs as she sees his erection under his loincloth.

Not tonight, babe.

John collects his smoked antelope from the smokehouse and puts the newly killed creature inside. Then he starts a fire for the village center’s barbeque. All the villagers are excited, knowing that John will share his catch, as he always does. There will be plenty to go around.

One of the villagers has been experimenting, growing grapes to make a liquid that a trader told him is called wine. Tonight is the first night it is ready for drinking; he has six jugs full of the liquid. He pours the drink into wooden cups and hands them to other villagers. One says, It’s a funny red color, and he sips it slowly. He spits it out at first, making a nasty sound, but after a few more sips, the alcohol affects him, and the taste seems to improve. After that, he had to admit the wine tastes better with every sip. Once he finishes the cup, the alcohol is really taking effect, and his voice becomes slurred.

You should save the drink for the meat, John says as he cuts the meat into portions and serves them into wooden bowls. Everyone jumps up and down in excitement at the meal, and the young ladies dance; there is no music, but that does not bother them; they sing their music. Everyone is happy tonight.

Angel dances seductively in front of John, moving her hips back and forth and her breasts from side to side. She smacks her face.

Why are you doing that, Angel? asks John.

It’s these mosquitos; they are plaguing me tonight, she says.

John laughs. It must be you, ladies; they go for; I never have a problem with them. When I was last in Lagos, one of the visiting doctors on a ship told me that the mosquito prefers women’s blood to men’s.

Angel sticks her tongue out at him, and he gets up and kisses her, biting her tongue gently.

That night, both Angel and John are anxious for sex, and they make love until morning. Angel says to him, "I don’t know how you keep it up for so long. I am nearly worn