The Destiny of Grace

By Susan Kimmel

Orphaned at the age of four, Naga Pious was taken in by her uncle. Four years later

she was propelled on destiny's path when she was captured by slave-runners from

Africa, taken on board a ship bound for America and forced to endure months of

dreadful conditions along with hundreds of other captives. She narrowly escaped

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scotland Press
• Release date: Dec 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9798985077513

Book preview

PROLOGUE

On September 26, 1853, Wesley Pious, King of Portugal, also serving as temporary chief agent for the Royal Army of Logos, Nigeria, waved goodbye to his wife Juba and their four-year old daughter, Naga.

I promise to return by tomorrow morning, he shouted as he blew kisses to his pride and joy.

Within minutes he joined his men as they followed the road to the Royal Arsenal. He had ordered them to open the doors and ready the cannons. The British were about to attack. Wesley had just given the command to fire when the arsenal exploded. Lagos’ meager defense was no match for the superior firepower of the British. A rocket from one of the boats in the harbor had succeeded in finding the old mausoleum snuggled into a hillside, surrounded by eucalyptus trees. Attacking and destroying the royal arsenal had caused great havoc in Lagos and the battle was later named the Bombardment of Lagos. Wesley Pious did not survive the attack.

After his death, Juba, Naga’s mother lost all touch with reality and poisoned herself by eating hemlock leaves. Naga was left in the care of her Uncle Shabee.

Chapter 1

Faro, Portugal 1854

The wind blew the tattered nightshirt above the tiny girl’s waist, exposing her bare legs. Wearing no underwear, she tried to push her night clothes down, but the breeze was too strong.

An unfamiliar hand grabbed her by the arm, dragging her with the momentum of the crowd. Naga was being yanked by someone she had never seen. Where was Uncle Shabee and why hadn’t Rico barked? Where were all these people going and why were they taking her along? She had been sleeping peacefully when she felt the big hand tighten around her arm. She hadn’t even been allowed to put on her shoes. As a result, her feet were now feeling the pain from the barefoot miles on the dry stone road. She recognized a few faces in the crowd and wondered why they were all here. Uncle Shabee must have forgotten to tell her of this gathering. He was usually very good about that sort of thing and she couldn’t understand the urgency that seemed to be causing so much confusion. She began to cry for Shabee, but her voice was drowned out by the commotion. She wasn’t the only one being dragged. In fact, chains were around most of the people’s hands. They were all connected to one huge rope, attached to a gigantic work horse who was being encouraged to run by a white man with a whip.

Before long, Naga was lifted onto the wooden deck of a ship. The wood was wet and greasy-like, causing everyone to slip and fall over each other. The injuries were devastating. Naga felt pain, more than she had ever experienced, but no one seemed to care. She knew her uncle would help her but, where was he? It seemed as if everyone had been separated from their families. Mothers were shouting for their children and children were screaming for their mothers. Naga may only have been eight years old but seeing and hearing this mass confusion brought her back to the many stories her uncle had told her. Stories of white and black men raiding the villages, looking for young, strong negroes who would bring a lot of money on the auction block. Naga now knew she was part of that. She and Uncle Shabee had practiced the escape route many times. He had been sure they would have enough time for their getaway, but the sound of the warning drums had been swallowed up by the wind, and now she was trapped. Surrounded by men with guns, threatening those who were bawling and blubbering, Naga declared to herself, at that moment, she was going to be strong and not act like a baby. Everything Uncle Shabee had made her memorize came rushing back to her mind. Stay strong. Don’t cry. Do as they say. At the time, those things seemed easy enough, but now she wasn’t sure.

An enormous black man with a shaved head stood over her, shutting out the first rays of a blurred and blood-red sun. She wondered what time it was and how many hours had passed since she had been snuggled warm inside her bed. She was worried about her uncle and all the people of her village. Why did she not recognize anyone near her?

How are you, little girl?

Naga looked up at a powerful set of shoulders and arms bulging with muscles. She was afraid to look away, but she didn’t want to look at him either, so she replaced his face with her favorite bird, the Dusky Flycatcher. She imagined the olive-gray bird calling its tzeat message to her and Uncle Shabee as they searched for the cup-shaped nest filled with green eggs in the cavity of a tree. She went back in time, allowing the imaginary sound to take precedence over the slurred, barbed voice.

I’m talkin’ to you, missy.

Even with savagery in Flycatcher’s tone, Naga heard what she hoped was an inflection of mercy. He seemed confused, most likely from the liquor he reeked of, but his burning eyes held her still. With tears running down her cheeks, she finally managed to smile at him. In her young life she had mastered a certain smile that usually got her whatever she wanted. No harm in trying it now. It wasn’t a cynical smile, but one of humility and submission. Naga sensed the pain carved in merciless lines on this man’s face and she could see that her smile had unbalanced him. He loomed closer, his powerful body hovering over her. She knew his hands could kill, yet they remained gentle as he rubbed her arms with his calloused fingers. Not exactly sure what to do, she remained still while keeping her gaze locked with his popping frog-like eyes. Uncle Shabee had not prepared her for this. The impact of this man being so close sent shivers down her spine. But just as she closed her eyes, expecting some sort of rage toward her, he was pulled away by the man who seemed to be in charge.

Get to work, you slimy beast. We’re not interested in that little pile of bones. Who brought her on board anyhow? Throw her off. She’s not worth the space nor the food to keep her alive. The arrogant bully turned his back to Naga and barked orders to another crew member.

Nauseated by fear, she swayed, expecting to be thrown overboard, but when she screamed, she was shocked at the heavy-handed actions of Flycatcher. He grabbed a handful of hair and flung her behind a wooden barricade that had been built on the deck to separate the men from the women. Get your skinny little ass between those crates and be quiet. I’ll be back. Do not move!

Naga obeyed as fast as she could. What had made this horrible man decide not to throw her overboard? What did he have in mind for her? Earlier, she thought she had observed a touch of pity in his eyes. She could only hope she was right.

She curled her body to fit the small wooden crate, pretending to be one of the precious green eggs in the hollow of a tree. She would stay in the nest until the Flycatcher returned.

Naga watched through the slats of the crate as the crew herded the other captives to the belly of the ship. Her new home was sitting on top of an air hole, allowing her to see below. Men were kept in shackles but the women had been freed from their wrist and ankle chains so they could take care of the children. She questioned Flycatcher’s motive again as she surveyed her situation. Had he put her in here to protect her or was this a death sentence for sure? And why her? There were plenty of children on this voyage. Why had Flycatcher singled her out?

Naga was hungry and thirsty. She had lost track of time and she had no idea how long it had been since she had eaten. The night sky was cloaked with clouds scudding in front of a quarter moon, but she couldn’t remember if this was the second moon she had seen or only the first. The ocean was growing restless, causing waves to pound against the side of the boat. The sky suddenly broke without warning, sending lashing wind and driving rain into her cramped, wooden box. Within seconds, she was soaked to the bone. Her fear, dark as the night that surrounded her, turned to full blown panic and she screamed as loud as her throat would allow. But the unrelenting deluge pounded her skin like a thousand needle pricks. She shivered with chill and despair, drifting into wisps of sleep, praying that she would not see the morning sun.

Flycatcher had forgotten all about his confined crate dweller. He had meant to bring her food and water, but Calico Jack, the ship’s captain, watched every move he made, and he didn’t want to get caught feeding the little girl. Finally, on the third day, after the torrential storm, he found some left-over yams and rice. There was no extra water to give her, but he hoped she had been able to swallow some rainwater. He waited till the captain went below deck and he quickly threw the food into the crate.

It was then Naga realized she hadn’t died during the storm. She ate the rice but saved the yams for later. The stench coming from below was repulsive and she decided it was a good thing her stomach was not full. There was no room for vomit to reside, except on her, so she did all she could not to dwell on her situation. She thought about how much she loved Uncle Shabee and prayed for his safety. After both her parents died, he had been the only family member to step up and offer to be her guardian. If he hadn’t done that, she would have been sent to the orphanage.

It had been six years since her father had been killed during a battle in her hometown: The Bombardment of Lagos. She had no idea what those words meant but her mother talked about it all the time, until she died. Uncle Shabee said her mother wasn’t strong enough to live without her husband. As a daughter, Naga was aware of her mother’s illness but as a child she didn’t know what to do. Uncle Shabee had told her she would understand when she was an adult but maybe she was never going to get any older if she died on this ship. He had tried to explain the meaning of politics but couldn’t seem to find the right words. Was this captivity about politics too. Did Flycatcher and his crew just want power? Is that why they had stolen the people in her village?

Naga tried to sleep, but the relentless noise and the disgusting stench would not allow her eyelids to close. Even though she couldn’t move because her arms and legs were so numb, Naga was grateful to be in this position, knowing it was better than being thrown into the deep waters of the ocean as Flycatcher had been ordered to do.

Naga had tried to count the sunrise and the sunsets, but confusion tormented her waking hours. Flycatcher threw her a bite of food every other day and if she was lucky, a small jar of water. She was sure weeks had passed since the ship had set sail. The salty breeze from the ocean mixed with the smell of rotting flesh and vomit from below, caused her eyes to constantly water. Each day passed monotonously, and she drifted in and out of sleep.

The sharp and brittle crack of weathered wood jolted Naga awake, and she felt her body being pulled from her nest. There were other bodies being pushed toward the front of the boat. Flycatcher scooped her into his arms and joined the moving crowd. Naga felt herself being crushed against the side of the railing and prayed she wouldn’t die now, after surviving the long voyage. Flycatcher shifted his grasp of Naga and held her high above the crowd, trampling those in front of him. He seemed intent on being the first one on dry ground. Naga’s nose detected the smell of low tide mixed with the odor of wooden packing cases and sawdust. The wretched air penetrated her nostrils, causing her to be sick. Once Flycatcher stepped on the wooden dock, he ran as fast as he could. Shifting his hold once more, he clutched Naga around her waist and scurried behind the closest building, dropping her on the ground.

This is as far as I can take you, little one. I’m sorry for these past months. I did the best I could for you. He leaned down close to her ear and whispered. Do not go near what is called an auction block. He pointed to a wooded area and said, Run as fast as you can and wait there until you see some other children. He shrugged a meaty shoulder as he spoke, his words possessing a hint of pity, I hope you find a family.

Naga could feel danger lurking in the structures that surrounded her. The sun was climbing, spilling color over the eastern sky, giving the thin wisps of fog a strange color. As it crawled along the damp ground, it gave her new world an eerie feeling. She could barely put one foot in front of the other and the woods seemed further away than what her body could manage. A small animal darted across the clearing and into the underbrush. She remembered Flycatcher’s instructions and she wanted to follow the little creature, but no strength lingered in her arms or legs. She would simply have to lean against the weathered gray boards of this abandoned shed until warmth returned to her veins.

Chapter 2

Porto, Portugal 1848

Adam Carter found it difficult to concentrate on his math teacher while sitting behind a girl named Louise Reynolds. Her thick, dark hair hung in long graceful curves over her shoulders and sometimes it was braided and pulled into a ball at the nape of her neck. When she wore it like that, Adam could see more of her porcelain-colored skin and occasionally could catch a whiff of her flowery scent. It reminded him of all the blossoms in spring. She had an unruly splash of freckles over and around her nose, and her eyes, the color of sea green, were sharp and assessing.

Louise, daughter of American missionaries, had been raised for the past five years in Porto, a fishing village about one-hundred seventy miles from Adam’s hometown of Algarve, Portugal. Earning a full scholarship to attend Polytechnic Academy had forced Adam to leave his family and move to Porto. His plan was to acquire more education, bringing him closer to someday owning his own farm and seed business.

Louise was attending the Academy for advanced math classes and had not officially met the handsome man named Adam, but she could sense the power of his gaze on her neck. Sometimes he leaned so close she could feel the heat from his body, and she imagined she could feel his thoughts. She had waited for him to introduce himself, but every day he practically ran from the room. Was he shy or was she getting the wrong vibes?

Being involved with a woman wasn’t on Adam’s list of priorities but seeing Louise almost every day was becoming more than a craving. It was taking precedence over his studies. Was she so desirable because she was, in his mind, so unreachable?

Louise could not figure out why she couldn’t get the attention of the well-dressed man that sat behind her in class. Either he was cemented in snobbery or he was the shyest man on campus. She had even taken to the habit of patting her neck with an extra dab of perfume, hoping to feel him lean close to her. She had been aware of his closeness more than a few times, and to her dismay, she liked it. Several times she had watched the fluid, rippling motion of the muscles in his back and shoulders under his thin shirt as he walked from the classroom. She had also noticed an inherent strength in his face, etched with grim determination. His olive-colored skin always seemed covered in a five-o’clock shadow inherited from his black hair, she assumed. She had also noticed the manly wisps of dark hair that curled against the vee of his open shirt. His striking good looks captivated her attention. Now, if she could just get him to notice her!

Adam wanted so desperately to talk to the girl named Louise, but he just couldn’t fathom the idea that she would want to carry on a conversation with him. After all, she was an American and he was merely a poor boy from Algarve who was lucky enough to have been granted the gift of an education. Without the scholarship, he never would have had the opportunity to attend a university. His father had been disabled from the war and his mother worked as a waitress in a small run-down coffee house. Adam had worked hard to earn this support and he intended to prove his worth to his family and to the university.

With only three months left till graduation, he needed to find the courage to ask Louise for a date. He knew what he wanted, and he didn’t have time to be shy about asking for it. He had put off asking her out long enough.

One day after class Adam followed the dark-haired beauty out the door and onto the open veranda, stretching the width of the building. In a deep, smoothly accented voice that rumbled like thunder, Adam called her name. Louise, Louise Reynolds, may I speak to you?

Louise stopped walking and smiled, talking so only she could hear. It’s about time Mr. Carter. With a deliberate casual movement, she turned and faced him. Yes? Can I help you?

Well, I’m hoping you can. I’d like to know if you will go out to dinner with me tonight?

His strength surrounded her. His eyes demanded an answer, and she didn’t hesitate to give him one. What time will you be picking me up?

Adam stared wide-eyed for two full seconds; she stared back in challenge. Did I say something wrong?

No, I just wasn’t expecting you to answer that fast.

Why? I’ve been waiting all year for you to get up enough courage to at least talk to me.

You have? Why didn’t you talk to me?

Where I come from, it’s proper for the woman to wait for the man to make the first move.

Where exactly is that?

My parents and I came here to fulfill a missionary obligation to our church and fell in love with the people and the country, so we decided to make it our permanent home. Originally, we moved here from a small town in Virginia, near the York River. Have you ever heard of that?

No, I don’t know much about America, but it seems like it would be a fascinating place to live. Everyone seems so rich. There is so much freedom there also.

Not as much as you think, but it is a great nation and a wonderful place to live. My parents felt led by God to bring the good news to another part of the world and Porto was on the list of towns that needed the gospel. I wasn’t happy at first, but I’ve come to love it here. Her silky voice held a challenge as she continued. "Someday I want to go back to America and resume my life there. I would never