Jason the Slave Warrior

By Clint Bennett

They branded Martha first,for no particular reason; she just happened to be the adolescent girl child closest and within easy reach of the smiling slave who was doing the branding. She was sobbing and crying, terrified and near panicking. Speaking softly in the singsong dialect of the Wolof tribe, the huge slave doing the branding tried to reassure her that the pain was mild and only temporary. He pointed to his own brand that stood out distinctly on his right shoulder. The brand was the Christian symbol of the cross where Jesus was crucified and murdered. Still smiling, he approached the girl holding the smoking red-and white-hot branding iron. Martha could see small heat waves and light smoke coming off the branding iron and disappearing in the light wind. The pain was horrendous; Martha passed out and her tiny body was eased down to the dirt floor by two slaves helping with the branding. There were four other brands of different designs smoldering in the white-hot flames and the brander would brand thirty slaves today. After years of slavery and hardship, Jason would tell her as they carefully planned their escape.“There is a place in Florida where the slavers are afraid to go.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781662403484

Book preview

Chapter 1

They branded Martha first, for no particular reason; she just happened to be the most convenient and within easy reach of the slave that was doing the branding. She was sobbing and crying, terrified and near panicking. The huge slave holding her and attempting to brand her tried to reassure her that the branding only hurt momentarily. He smiled at her as if they were the best of friends and pointed to his own shoulder where he had been branded years ago. The brand was two inches long and was in the shape of a cross, the Christian symbol of the cross where Jesus was murdered. The attempts to calm her were wasted; exasperated with her struggles, the slave holding the branding iron nodded to two more slaves, who were his assistants. Holding the girl by her shoulders, the two easily held her completely still as the branding slave approached her with the red- and white-hot branding iron. Martha and another girl child from the Wolof tribe had been purchased only that morning. Their new owners had named them Martha and Tina because their Wolof names were not pronounceable by the French.

Her new owners watched closely from the doorway. They were very proud of their new possessions and showed them off to friends and acquaintances as they passed by on the busy streets near the chaotic New Orleans waterfront. Roberto, the plantation owner who had purchased the two girls, was dressed in the latest New Orleans finery. He was wearing a light-gray waistcoat, dark-gray pantaloons baggy at the bottoms, and a cocky beige hat atop a white powdery wig. His wife was also fashionable, wearing a full dress covering her ankles and wrists in a light-beige color with her bodice decorated with fake pearls and trimmed in dark gray. Numerous petticoats supported her garments and peeked stylishly beneath her tresses. The bottom of her dress and petticoats were gray and brown from the mud and animal shit that made up the main New Orleans thoroughfares. Roberto and his wife were both sweating profusely from the oppressive New Orleans midsummer heat.

There were three other children with Martha. Two of them were from different tribes than Martha, and their guttural language was as unfamiliar as Latin to Martha and Tina. The proud owners were watching the branding process closely. They were concerned about excessive brutality from the branding slave. He had the reputation of sometimes becoming carried away with his treatment of some of the slaves, especially the ones who were not cooperative. The branding was not considered unreasonable by the new owners; in fact, it was considered a necessary part of the slaves’ training regimen. When branded with the easily recognizable and well-known cross, there could be no argument about the ownership of the property. The cross brand was a very familiar and accepted brand belonging to the two girls’ new owners. The brand had been designed by Roberto’s wife, who was naive and sheltered enough from reality to think the slaves would appreciate the design since it bore the religious symbol.

Martha was twelve years old; the other children were about the same age. The new owners were delighted with their purchases and smiled at Martha and Tina whenever the two girls looked in their direction. The chained and starved child slaves thought the two new owners looked ridiculous in spite of their finery, standing in the doorway with the sweat dripping from them. The owners had been the only bidders on the two and had obtained them for a very good price in silver coin. The girls were too young to work hard in the fields and too young to produce offspring, so they were not very desirable as slaves. The owners had needed the two for household help. The owner’s wife, a pretty but delicate woman, had decided she could not keep up with her responsibilities as the wife of a prominent plantation owner and needed more help. She considered her obligations to be completely overwhelming and beyond her control. She was expected and almost required to entertain the New Orleans aristocracy, and the burden was beyond her.

Martha was a pretty child: She was slender, well toned, and muscled, and her skin was the color of dark honey. She wore her hair long and braided in the traditional style of her tribe, called the Wolof. She was wearing a filthy cotton rag around her waist and was bare-breasted. Her breasts were just beginning to bud out with the signs of rapidly approaching puberty. She had been captured six months ago, and her ankles had been shackled at that time, and the shackles had not been removed since. She could not walk steadily or even attempt to run. Her movement was sort of a slow shuffling painful walk. The tightness of her shackles hurt her feet every time she moved, and her ankles had been bleeding and festering for six months.

The pain was agonizing. The brander held the red- and white-hot iron against the skin of her shoulder until it cooled to a smoky gray-black. The two slaves helping the brander held her so tightly she couldn’t move or twitch or spasm in any way to relieve the heart stopping pain in her shoulder. Smoke rose from the burn and filled the room with the unforgettable smell of burnt human flesh.

Martha passed out. The slaves supporting her eased her tiny body to the filthy dirt floor, left her, and turned to the other Wolof girl, who had cried and scurried into a corner as she watched Martha’s agony. The brander, after he had placed the branding iron back into the coal fire, tried to assure Tina the pain was very temporary. She will be fine, he said. While smiling at the girl as he approached her, the branding iron smoldering in the fire with tiny traces of Martha’s flesh burning off it.

The branding process was taking place in a small blacksmith shop adjoining a large warehouse with the front of the red brick building adjacent to the busy New Orleans waterfront. The branding was done immediately after the slaves were bought and herded away from the waterfront slave auction. The brander belonged to the same wealthy planter that had bought Martha and Tina. He was so adept at the branding that his owner leased him out to other plantation owners to perform the branding of their new slaves. There were four other branding irons of various designs smoldering red- and white-hot in his fire. He would brand thirty new slaves this day.

The planter was one of the wealthiest inhabitants of New Orleans. He owned three thousand acres of the fertile lowlands and grew cotton. He also owned the warehouse, three cargo ships, and forty slaves. Brander was forty years old and had been a slave for twenty-five years. He had vague memories of his life as a free man and rarely thought about that remote part of his life. He enjoyed his status among the slave community and had no hopes or aspirations of anything different. He had been assigned as an apprentice to an older blacksmith and had done well. When the older slave died, Brander easily took over as the blacksmith for the owner. He had a room behind the blacksmith shop, was not chained or beaten, and was fed well by the women who worked in the warehouse.

After they had somewhat recovered from the agonizing branding, Martha and Tina were put aboard a wagon, chained to eyebolts bolted to the floor of the wagon, and taken to the owner’s plantation house. They got the first real glimpse of what would be their new home, probably for the rest of their lives. The house was not as regal as some of the other stately plantation homes. There were eight Romanesque columns supporting three stories with wide balconies all along the upper levels. The structure was painted in an off-white color and was surrounded by head-high azalea bushes and tall magnolia trees loaded with white blossoms. The house sat a fourth of a mile from the dusty well-traveled main road, and century-old live oak trees formed a shade canopy for the constant horse and buggy visitors. In the rear of the main house, large barns hid the squalid slave quarters consisting of crudely built drafty cabins.

New Orleans was a busy and colorful place, especially along the waterfront. There were three ships tied alongside the worn and tilted cypress log piers. Under the watchful eyes of several overseers, slaves were busily loading cotton on two of the ships and unloading stores from the other. The creaking and straining of the rigging of the crude wooden cranes was loud and constant. The tide was incoming, fresh, and strong, and the three ships strained at their mooring.

All the popular bars and whorehouses were located adjacent to the waterfront—very convenient for the thirsty and lonely sailors who visited the port. Four-wheeled wagons made their way along the mud streets carrying all manner of cargo and trade goods from the hustle and bustle of the chaotic waterfront. Visitors to this neighborhood were merchants who had specific business. There were no sightseers or casual visitors. The waterfront was a dangerous place, ignored and shunned by the common populace of New Orleans who considered the waterfront with its rough bars and whorehouses a necessary evil to be tolerated as important to the continued thriving of the community commerce.

The owner’s wife was named Christine. She fussed and fretted and complained about her social responsibilities while an older slave woman did the actual work that Christine took credit for. Her name was Josephine. She was fifty years old, had been born a slave, and supervised the day-to-day activities of the plantation with an iron hand. Behind her back, Josephine called Christine useless.

Martha and Tina were taken to her, with the chains still around their feet. Josephine showed the two girls a shack near the imposing plantation house where they could stay, then introduced them to the overseer named Jacques.

The overseer did not consider himself cruel or vicious. He considered himself to be a fair and reasonable man. He spoke to Martha and Tina in passable Wolof language. When the two girls had finished their inspection of their shack, he told the two to follow him. He took them to the dog pens, where he showed them the vicious bloodhounds he had bred and trained to catch runaway slaves. Jacques said, You will wear your leg chains until I can trust you not to try to run away. If you attempt to escape, I will put these dogs on you. The dogs were growling and snarling at the two girls, who were terrified of the dogs. Jacques continued to threaten them as they stayed near the penned-up dogs that never stopped snarling viciously at the two girls. He had trained the dogs by making realistic slave caricatures and stuffing the fake bodies’ legs with leftover meat from the meals prepared by Josephine. He would then starve the dogs for days and turn them loose to bite and hold the legs of the caricatures. His dogs were very well trained and so vicious that he kept them chained to him when they were actually tracking a runaway. Just the threat of the dogs was frightening enough to most slaves that they would not attempt any escape.

Martha and Tina, under the strict supervision of Josephine, learned to clean and prepare meat and vegetables, hand-wash bedding and clothes, and cook for ten to twenty people. When Christine was entertaining guests, the two were required to stand silently and obediently in the corners, dressed in spotless white-and-gray maid clothing, and attend to every whim of Christine’s guests.

Josephine was a healer; her mother had been a well-known healer and taught her skills to Josephine. Josephine used a combination of accepted medicine and strange voodoo rituals in her healing process. Martha became the skilled protégé of Josephine. Martha and Josephine took care of forty slaves and their children and grandchildren. Martha became adept at treating the cuts and bruises of the slaves, helping with childbirths, and attending to the slaves after they were whipped or beaten. She attended some of the voodoo rituals performed by Josephine, but she was very skeptical of her beliefs. This was her life for six years.

Christine was a very devout woman. She attended mass regularly and said her confessions to the priests whenever she thought she might have sinned. Her perceived sins were minor but interesting to the priests but caused Christine many sleepless nights. Roberto and Christine had two healthy children and didn’t want any more. Both the children were boys, and Roberto was delighted to have two sons to inherit the plantation and enjoy the fruits of his and his father’s labor. Christine had a difficult pregnancy with their second child, and she had been bedridden for most of her term. Her morning sickness had lasted for days at a time, and she had lost weight, unable to eat and stay nourished. When the second child was born, Christine moved into a bedroom separate from her husband. Being such a devout woman, she explained to her disappointed and distraught husband that fornication in any form was for procreation only, and since they had two healthy children and because of the strength of her religious convictions, she could not participate in the sex act any longer.

When Martha and Tina were sixteen years old, they were considered ripe by Roberto and his wealthy slave-owning friends. Roberto started molesting the girls; he would send one of them to the big house on some time-consuming errand and rape the other one two to three times a week. Martha was prettier, but Tina was his favorite. Martha would fight him. She didn’t fight him enough to get beaten or slapped; she just wouldn’t cooperate. Tina got new hand-me-down dresses, shoes, and cheap trinkets. After struggling with Martha for three months, Roberto gave up. Tina was pregnant with Roberto’s child and tormented Martha unmercifully about her high status with Roberto and how easily she had obtained her new importance. Tina told her one day as they were discussing her pregnancy. Just let him lie on top of you and squirt his little squirt in you. He will grunt and lie on top of you for a few minutes, then he will be finished and happy. Tina was showing off a new dress and new shoes as she was telling Martha how to make Roberto happy and content and prevent him from beating her.

Jason was branded a year before Martha. He was also a member of the Wolof tribe and had been captured in Senegal. He was two years older than Martha and was now held in high esteem by Roberto. Jason had a knack for the different languages and learned them almost magically. Jason worked in the warehouse. He was now eighteen years old and was tall and strong from handling the heavy cotton bales. He lived in his own sparse shack behind the warehouse, ate well from the overseer’s kitchen, and had an easy existence. Jason had painstakingly earned the trust of Roberto and the warehouse foreman, a white man named Philips.

Roberta tolerated Martha because she worked hard and did everything asked of her except welcome his crude advances, but he catered to Tina. Christine adored Martha, and the two were as friendly as a slave owner’s wife could be to a slave. Roberto had bought another slave girl who was ripe and wanted her in Martha’s position near him in the big house. Christine would not allow Roberto to sell Martha, so when Martha was eighteen and no longer considered ripe and too old, Roberto gave her to Jason to show his appreciation for Jason’s hard work. Jason ran the warehouse; he graded cotton, took and approved or disapproved bids, he directed the efforts of ten other slaves who worked in the warehouse. He spoke Wolof, Mandingo, and French, and he could make himself understood in Spanish and Portuguese. He was also fluent in the language of the Indian slaves, who were mostly of the Natchez tribe with a few Calusa, Creek, and Appalachia slaves.

The wharves and waterfront warehouses in New Orleans were noisy and busy, with a distinct and offensive odor that could be detected for a fourth of a mile depending on the wind direction. Cotton bales were stacked neatly along docks waiting to be loaded. Stevedores and sailors bustled about, loading cotton using crude cranes and booms to load the heavy bales. The muddy and smelly streets were filled with vendors hawking the fly-covered ducks, chickens, and geese. If the whores were not entertaining a client, they would stand half-naked on the street corners attracting customers from the smelly sailors or the well-dressed New Orleans elite. The gaudily dressed pimps watched closely, not for the well-being of the whores, but to ensure they were not cheated.

New Orleans supported a large and prosperous Catholic society, and representatives from the monsignor were a common sight downtown. They were there to ensure the church received their portion of the commerce. The church owned or had financed many of the established businesses, and they made huge profits from the hotels and the whores who frequented the hotel rooms with their clients.

Often the wharves were too crowded and busy for another ship to come alongside the piers. When this occurred, Jason, with the assistance of two other slaves, would replenish Roberto’s ships as they lay at anchor in the harbor, waiting their turn to load their cargos. This allowed the cranes and hoists to be used for the purpose of loading bales of cotton and halved the turnaround time for the ships.

Roberto owned a small sailing ship Jason used to replenish the anchored ships. The sloop was twenty-six feet long and ten feet wide and carried a large mainsail and jib to catch the light winds predominant inside the harbor. Jason had started helping replenish ships when he was fourteen years old and had been sailing the ship since he was sixteen. The small sloop was very fast and maneuverable and had a retractable centerboard and tiller. Jason brought casks of water and fresh meat and vegetables to the crews of the ships. Some of them had been at sea for months and welcomed Jason with his fresh supplies. In addition to the fresh stores, Jason brought the supplies the ships would need for their trip to Charleston with their cargo of cotton. He brought barrels of salt pork, beans, and hardtack biscuits to the anchored ships. He saved days of turnaround time by replenishing the ships as they were anchored offshore and unable to find dock space.

Jason was twenty years old and Martha was eighteen when Roberto brought Martha to him. Jason was tall, almost six feet tall, and he weighed two hundred pounds with no fat anywhere. He had a thick muscular neck and strong arms with the muscles flexing as he moved. His chest and shoulders were thick and heavy with muscle. Jason had been throwing one-hundred-pound bales of cotton since he was thirteen years old and handled them as if they weighed nothing. He usually worked in a sleeveless ragged shirt, with his brand showing on his right shoulder. Jason’s back was scarred from being whipped when he was younger, and he was ashamed of his lacerated back and kept it hidden.

Roberto held Martha’s arm so tightly that it hurt her as she was led to Jason and Philips’s office. She came with a set of harsh instructions from Roberto. He said to Jason, This one does not like me as the others do. She will not make babies with me. She is yours—make babies with her so I can have more slaves. Keep her in your cabin, she is yours. She is afraid to try to escape, and she should not cause you any trouble. If she does, I will have her whipped and then sell her. Roberto had not touched her for years, for he now considered her too old to be ripe and he liked the younger adolescent girls. Roberto left and Jason took Martha to his quarters behind the warehouse. He will rape me later, Martha thought, and if I don’t pretend to enjoy it, he will beat me. That night Martha cooked for Jason. She cooked ribs, fresh corn, and rice, then cleaned his tiny dwelling. After they had eaten, Jason did something she was not prepared for, he talked to her.

You are from the Wolof? he asked as he sat in one of his two homemade chairs. Martha had intentionally avoided his bed and was sitting in the other chair.

I was Wolof once, now I am a nothing, I am a slave.

I have seen you before, when you were in town with Roberto’s wife.

I lived on the plantation and worked in the big house since I was twelve years old.

Do you have any children?

No, I don’t have any children.

The conversation became awkward; they both became unsure of what to say to the other. Jason told her, You can have the bed.

Then he got up, built the fire up, and removed a blanket from a small overhead cabinet. He spread the blanket on the rough pine floor, wrapped in it, and was soon asleep. Martha, still wearing all her clothes, climbed into the bed and covered with a small thin blanket. She didn’t know what to think: He doesn’t like me. I’m too old or not pretty enough for him. Will he give me back to Roberto? Will Roberto have me beaten then sell me to another as he has promised? She stayed awake a long time, afraid of the next day.

Jason and Martha were cordial to each other for two weeks, treating each other with welcome respect. Then they became friends. Martha grew comfortable with him, and within a few weeks, she lost her fear of him and began to talk freely with him. They established a comfortable routine. Jason worked in the warehouse, and sometimes Martha would work with him, and sometimes she would work in the big house, helping Christine and avoiding Roberto. Martha and Jason soon looked forward to the quiet evenings they would spend together. Martha began taking an interest in her appearance and started wanting to look nice for her pleasant evenings with Jason. After a month of talking and staying with Jason, Martha rose from her chair, slipped her plain cotton dress over her head, took Jason’s hand, and led him to their bed. They were married a month later in the traditional slave manner. Then Jason told her of his plans to escape.

He began by telling her, There is a place in Florida where the slavers are afraid to go.

Martha asked, looking curiously at Jason, Why are they afraid to go there?

I don’t know for sure, but from talking to the slaver captains who have been to Tampa, there is a band of Indians north of Tampa who welcomes runaway slaves. All they have heard are rumors, but all the slavers who go there disappear and are never seen again. There are some Calusa at Tampa who have told the slaver captains about the runaway slaves living with the Calusa to the north.

How will we get to Florida, and do you know how to find this place?

I don’t know how to find this place, but if we sail south and hug the coast, we should find it.

Where will we get a sailboat, Jason? This sounds very dangerous.

We’re going to steal Roberto’s sloop, I’ve been sailing it for years, and it is much faster than the larger boats and can go in the shallows along the coast.

Jason, are you sure about this? We have a good life here, much better than most slaves. No one beats us, we have plenty to eat. Are you sure you want to leave this?

The sloop had been built in New Orleans to specifications provided by Roberto. The ship was twenty-six feet long and ten feet wide, narrow for a working boat. The keel and ribs were built from straight-grained white oak, cut from the nearby forest. The planking was made from the hardwood heart of cypress trees, cut and seasoned by local shipwrights. The masts and spars were built from local spruce. There was a small cabin in the front, and the ship was steered by a stout oak rudder and tiller.

Roberto designed the sloop to carry loads of fresh stores to his ships anchored in the harbor waiting for a berthing space alongside the cotton wharfs. The sloop was named Sarah, after Roberto’s mother.

Martha was at first skeptical and apprehensive. Jason calmly persuaded her. The argument that finally convinced her was about children.

Jason said, Suppose we should have a child, what is to prevent Roberto from selling our child, or selling you or me? Roberto wants us to have children, he told us that—make babies for me, he said when he brought you to me. Make babies, do you remember that? Think about our child being branded and raised as a slave. To Roberto we are like cattle, to be bred and provide more slaves for him.

The overseer of the warehouse was named Philips. He was an older, portly-looking man with long unkempt gray hair and a bushy beard. He had been one of Roberto’s best captains until he had been offered the job of warehouse manager by Roberto. Philips and Jason shared a small office on the second floor of the warehouse overlooking the busy waterfront. Philips had known Jason for over six years, and they had become good friends. Jason admired Philips because of his decent treatment of the slaves that worked for him.

On the north wall of the office was a large detailed chart of the known coastline between Key West and New Orleans. The chart covered the entire north wall and was updated by Roberto’s captains as they discovered new information. The detail of the port of New Orleans and the winding river was complete all the way to the gulf. Jason had studied the chart since he had first entered Philips’s office when he was fourteen years old. Philips was a kindhearted man who felt some sympathy toward the slaves and their plight. When Jason became the valued assistant to Philips, they would talk as friends. Philips came into the office one day as Jason was standing in front of the chart, staring closely at the point marked Tampa and to the north of there. North of Tampa, the information was marked shallow and unknown. There were no islands or rivers named and no other information to aid or guide a mariner.

Philips came to stand near Jason and the chart and said, Where are you going, Jason?

I’m not going anywhere: just looking at the chart. Why isn’t there any information about this area? Jason pointed to the coastline in Florida north of Tampa Bay.

That area is a big unknown to us and to the Spanish. There are a lot of rumors but no real information. I have heard there is a large tribe of Indians there called the Calusa. French and Spanish slavers tried to explore the area decades ago and have disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again. There is a small Spanish fort at Tampa, and I’m sure they have tried to explore the region, but they disappear into the swamps. There are a few scattered Calusa that live close to Tampa, and the Spanish make slaves of them as we do the local Timucua and Natchez. The slave captains are afraid to explore north of Tampa, myself included.

Has Roberto ever asked you to go there?

Captain Philips settled his large frame into a wicker chair and motioned for Jason to sit with him in another nearby chair. He said, Years ago, Roberto and I discussed this. He was on the verge of asking me to explore the region, and I refused before he asked me. I told him I wanted out of the slave business completely. That’s when he offered me this job. Roberto thought if he could capture slaves from this region, he could prevent having to sail his ships to Cuba to obtain slaves. He was not happy with my refusal to explore the area.

Were you afraid of the Indians?

Yes, I was, but I was also sick of being in the slave business. I am fifty-five years old, and I admit I have been responsible for the suffering of many slaves but no more. As you well know, my wife is a Natchez Indian and a former slave. She is a wonderful wife and mother, and I am very proud of her, but she carries the brand of a slave on her shoulder.

Jason stood and walked back to stand in front of the chart. Captain Philips watched him closely for a few moments, then said, Jason, what you are considering could be very dangerous. You have no navigation skills. You would have to follow the coast south, never losing sight of the coast. There are unknown savage tribes all along the coast you would have to deal with, and they may or may not be friendly.

I’m not considering anything Captain. I’m just curious, Jason lied to Philips. That night Philips lay awake for a long time, thinking about Jason and Martha. He considered all his options, including what would happen if Jason were caught and how he would be able to operate the warehouse if Jason should escape. He made his decision as the sun was rising, and the busy port of New Orleans was alive with activity. Jason was busy at his desk when Captain Philips walked into their office. He went directly to Jason and stood over his shoulder and watched him work for a few minutes, then said, You and I are going hunting today. You have nothing pressing that you need to finish today, do you?

Jason looked at the small stack of bids, contracts, and bills of lading on his desk and answered, I have nothing that can’t wait for a day or so. Philips had a collection of muskets and pistols, and he had left a nice English musket near the doorway out of Jason’s sight. The two had been hunting before, and they were a common sight as they rode through town in Philips carriage, a well-known and respected member of the community and his slave, going hunting for the numerous wild hogs that lived in the marsh south of town near Lake Pontchatrain. When they were well away from the city and surrounded by a thick oak grove, Philips stopped the carriage and handed the musket to Jason. This is yours. We’ll keep it hidden in our office until you need it.

Jason said, Do you realize what you are doing, giving a weapon to a slave? Roberto could have you beaten and imprisoned for this.

I know exactly what I’m doing. Today I’m going to teach you how to shoot. You’re going to need to be able to shoot and protect yourself. Philips showed him how to fill the pan with the correct amount of powder and how to wrap a small piece of silk around the lead ball and tamp it tightly inside the barrel with the tamping rod. They checked the flint, the cocking lever, the firing hammer, and everything Jason needed to know before he shot the. 56-caliber musket. At the end of the day, Jason was familiar enough with the musket that Captain Philips just watched as Jason shot the musket until his shoulder ached from the powerful recoil. Philips then showed Jason how to clean and oil the musket. This is very important, he told Jason. If it’s not kept clean, it will rust easily and will not fire.

The next morning Philips strode purposely into the office and interrupted Jason’s work. He said, "Jason, last night I had dinner with an old friend named Matisse. Years ago, when the French and Spanish were not at war, his brig was driven into Tampa bay by a severe storm. He spent three days at the Spanish fort at Tampa and asked a lot of specific questions about the area north of Tampa Bay. He had been expecting Roberto to order him to explore the area with the intention of capturing slaves. Matisse knows the area better than anyone, and this is what I learned from our discussion last night. There is a band of Calusa Indians ninety miles north of Tampa, and there are runaway slaves living there in peace. The Spanish have sent several parties of explorers there, and none of them have returned. Matisse also said the waters about fifty to sixty miles north of Tampa are too shallow for a deep draft brig to explore. He said he would be unable to see the eastern shore as he was heading north and be in only fifteen to twenty feet of water with numerous oyster bars and shallows under his keel.

According to what Matisse learned from the Spanish, there is a large Calusa village at a place called King Town, ninety miles north of Tampa up a river called Crystal River. The village and spring were named by a Spanish explorer who visited the area over a century ago before the Spanish, and our French countrymen started capturing the Florida Indian tribes as slaves. What I am telling you seems to be legend based on some facts.

"This is what I propose: In the years I have known you, you and Martha have become friends. If you and Martha decide to escape and head toward the nearby swamps, the dogs will catch you within a few days, and Roberto will have both of you whipped, then probably sell you. You have become adept at sailing the Sarah around the harbor, and in the next few months, I’m going to teach you how to navigate the Sarah out of sight of land. Steal the Sarah and steal enough food and water for ten days. For my own safety, if Roberto should hear about what we are planning, I will deny all knowledge, is that understood? As you said, if Roberto should find out I am helping you, he can have me whipped and imprisoned for helping runaway slaves."

Chapter 2

The next day Jason and Captain Philips spent making copies of the chart that covered the wall of their office, and they talked. Jason said, This is dangerous for you. You are taking a big chance helping me like this. As I said before, Roberto could have you beaten and imprisoned.

Philips acted as if he hadn’t heard him and continued his discussion. Once you get to the gulf, it’s six hundred miles from here to Tampa by boat, much further by land, you should be able to make at least sixty miles a day. With a good wind from the east, it takes at least five hours to reach the open gulf from here. You will know when you have reached the river mouth and the open gulf. Sail due west for two hours after you reach open water, then turn south. That will put you far enough west to avoid the islands and the shallows along the coast. If the water becomes too shallow, sail west until you find deeper water, then turn south again. The sun will rise in the east and set in the west, but you can’t always see the sun. There was a place called Appalachia on the chart with a big question mark near it. I was blown ashore there many years ago and met some friendly Indians who said they were from the Appalachia tribe. I don’t know exactly where it is in reference to the chart, but I do know that will be the westernmost landfall between here and Tampa.

Philips had brought a compass with him and showed Jason how to use it then briefly explained the principle. At night Philips showed him how to use the stars to navigate by. The compasses are crude and easily damaged. If that should happen, use the stars, the sun and the moon, Philips said as he continued explaining how a compass worked.

Jason and Philips discussed these topics for weeks, and Jason absorbed the information as rapidly as he had learned the different languages spoken by the slaves. Late one evening after they had discussed the art of dead reckoning for hours, Philips told Jason, I have been thinking about your voyage and I have an idea for you to consider. You can sail much faster if you run west for deeper water. You have become familiar enough with navigation skills that you can do this. Set a course for due west, run that course for two hours, and then turn southeast to a point a hundred miles north of Tampa. You will have to consider how to find and recognize Appalachia. Show me on the chart how to do this. Jason, in a matter of minutes, showed Philips how he would do this. During all this training and lecturing, Philips had never asked Jason if and when he would leave and had not tried to discourage him.

One of the brigs owned by Roberto was named the Silvia. The ship was anchored in the shallower waters to the south of the docking area, waiting for a berth to be available for them to start loading their cargo of cotton. Captain Philips and Jason are making their plans to refurbish the Silvia using the sloop Sarah.

Philips said, "Take them fresh meat and vegetables, they have been at sea for two months and will be glad to have fresh stores. Take lots of rum and tobacco, the sailors will want their rum and pipe tobacco. The captain and some of the officers have already come ashore in their small rowboats, but there may be some of the crew who will want to come back with you. Bring them ashore, and then take another load of fresh stores out to the Silvia. Take Martha with you on your second trip. Martha and you should be able to do this without any other help." Jason quickly realized Philips was outlining escape plans.

A thunderstorm developed in Campeche, Mexico. The storm developed inland with the eastern edge fueled by the radiant heat as it reached the tepid gulf waters. The storm continued to form and gain strength with winds of twenty to thirty miles per hour and gusts to forty miles per hour. Heading north-northeast, the storm headed straight for Veracruz, following the coast at fifteen miles per hour and growing with a faintly recognizable eye. The Mexican fishermen living in the small gulf side villages were no strangers to the storms and prepared for them by moving their boats away from the rising gulf waters and strengthening their fishing shacks.

Early the next morning before daylight, Jason and Martha were at the pier where the sloop Sarah was moored. Days before Jason had loaded the sloop with six small barrels of fresh water, two casks of hardtack biscuits, four smoked hams, four small casks of beans, and two sacks of rice. Martha had loaded fresh vegetables and fruits. Jason also loaded all the tobacco and rum he could steal from the warehouse without being caught. Philips had told Jason the tobacco and rum were very lucrative trading commodities. There was a night watchman assigned to the pier where the sloop was tied, and the loading of the sloop was a common practice: the night watchman knew Jason and Martha, watched them for a few boring minutes, then went back to sleep.

The crew of the Silvia was asleep, with the exception of two seamen assigned to the midwatch. They took no special interest in the sloop as Jason and Martha sailed slowly past them with the outgoing tide. The sloop and Jason were a common sight in the bay, and the midwatch sailors assumed they were heading to replenish another ship. The morning was foggy and overcast; the fog dense was enough to develop droplets that collected in the folds of the sails and wet the topsides of the sloop as they sailed westward. Because of the light wind and the narrow channel, they would need six hours to reach open water. Martha glanced behind her often, and Jason could tell she was afraid; he was afraid; if they should be discovered and recaptured, Jason knew they would probably be separated and sold away from each other. Martha was rearranging their stores inside the small cabin when Jason said, Come sit and talk with me. Jason was steering the sloop and sitting on the narrow bench across the stern. Martha came and sat near him, and he placed his left arm around her. Are you all right? he asked.

I’m afraid, I am terribly afraid, Jason. I just realized there is no going back.

"No, there’s no going back, we’re committed, there’s no going back now. We’ve stolen a boat and the provisions and we are now runaway slaves. There will be a substantial reward for us. The good news is nobody can catch us. The Sarah is the fastest boat out of New Orleans, and we can sail in much shallower water than most other boats this size. We should be one hundred miles north of Tampa in ten days at the most."

Martha looked at the wet drooping sails and said, There is not much wind, we are not moving very fast.

The wind will pick up when the sun comes out, for the last several days the wind has been coming from the east, and then turning from the west, exactly as we want.

You and Captain Philips have been planning this for months, haven’t you?

We have, and he has been showing me how to navigate using the compass, the moon, and the stars.

Are you planning on anchoring at night?

There will be a full moon tonight, and I should be able to see well enough to continue. We are going to head west for two hours after we reach open water and then turn southeast and follow the coast. The coastal waters are shallow, and we will probably see islands we can hide behind and anchor for the nights if it gets too dark to continue. As long as I can see well enough, we will travel at night and I’m going to teach you how to sail as soon as we are well away from New Orleans and Roberto. Jason noticed the wind freshening and tightened his sails to take advantage of the east wind behind them. The sun rose and warmed them and evaporated the moisture covering the decks and sails of the Sarah. The fog was clearing, and Jason could follow the deeper parts of the river easier, watching for sandbars and debris. The tide was strong and flowing west.

The storm was slowly becoming more organized and has turned to a more northeast direction. It was now seventy-five miles north-northwest of Campeche and was heading toward Tampico. The center of the storm was now over the warm gulf waters of the Gulf of Mexico and being fueled by the radiant heat. After leaving the hazardous river channel, Jason ran due west for two hours, saw he had plenty of water beneath his keel, lowered the centerboard deeper, and started heading southeast, taking advantage of the light wind now coming from the west as the land warmed, and they reached open water. The little sloop heeled over on its port side, and they began moving more rapidly creating a welcome bow wave. They are twelve miles west of New Orleans and in water twenty feet deep. Martha has relaxed a little; she’s not looking over her shoulder so often, and neither was Jason.

The storm was over six hundred miles away and slowly strengthening with storm clouds and gusty winds extending out two hundred miles from the center. Martha was preparing a light meal. She looked toward Jason, who seemed very relaxed as he steered the sloop; he had moved over to the starboard side of the sloop right after they had turned southeast; the sails had filled, and the sloop had taken on a slight list to port. The hissing sound of the frothing bow wake was reassuring and comforting to both of them. Martha sat by Jason and asked, Have we done it, have we really gotten away?

Jason drew her close to him and said, I think we are all right, I haven’t seen any other ships, and if someone comes after us, they won’t know where we are heading. Philips won’t tell them anything, and they have no reason to suspect he helped us. I think we are all right.

Jason asked Martha to take the tiller, and he went forward to tighten the jib sail. When he came back to Martha, he showed her how to sail the sloop. He started with the compass, explained their southeast heading, and showed her the copy of the charts he and Philips had so painstakingly copied. The little sloop was a joy to sail; when trimmed out correctly and the winds were stable the sloop practically sailed itself, the tiller was easy to operate, and the sloop reacted immediately to any course change. Jason thought they were moving about ten miles per hour, with six hundred miles to go.

The wind freshened as the land heated. Jason trimmed his sails, and the little sloop healed easily over to the port side until the railings were almost in the water, with occasional waves splashing and wetting both of them. Jason explained everything he was doing to Martha, who had relaxed somewhat and was now enjoying the occasional splashing and the rapid movement of the sloop. Jason showed her how to maintain a steady course with the compass and how to watch the sails and trim them as needed. Just before the sunset, Jason headed the sloop into the wind, turned back to a northwest course, readjusted his sails, and had Martha repeat the process to head them back to a south-southeast heading. They sailed until past midnight, and clouds had hidden the full moon. Jason dropped his sails and anchored the sloop in fifteen feet of water, and they slept topside under a cloudy sky and a fresh sea breeze.

* * *

The next morning Roberto stormed into Philips’s office and asked angrily, Have you seen Jason?

Philips realized Roberto was furious and answered calmly, "I saw him yesterday; Jason and Martha were replenishing the Silvia yesterday afternoon."

Roberto paced back and forth angrily in the office as he questioned Philips.

"The Sarah is not at her berth, I have been to Jason’s cabin, and he and Martha are nowhere to be found. Their shitty belongings are gone. Do you know anything about this?"

"No, I don’t know anything about this. Jason is normally already here working before I get here, but not this morning. Do you think he could still be replenishing the Silvia?"

"The captain of the Silvia asked me this morning where Jason and his fresh supplies were. They haven’t seen him since late yesterday. I think he and Martha have run away, and they will pay for this. As much as I have done for them, is this how they repay me? Do you have any idea where they would have gone?"

I hope you are wrong. Jason runs the warehouse, and I have come to rely heavily on him. I don’t have any idea where they would have gone.

* * *

Jason and Martha were awake before the sun. Jason pulled his anchor, set his mainsail, and had Martha resume their south-southeast course. Then he set and adjusted his jib sail. When the ship was moving in the light west wind, Jason took the helm from Martha. They were in fifteen feet of clear water with the bottom sandy and grassy. The coast was to the east of them and well out of sight. Martha went below in the little cabin and fixed a morning meal of bacon and coarse grits cooked on a small charcoal stove. Jason was confident enough in his navigation skills to more or less follow the coast from New Orleans to Florida, keeping a close eye on the depth of water. He knew if Roberto sent a ship after him and Martha, they couldn’t sail in the shallow water as easily as the Sarah, and he was counting on this.

He and Martha would be difficult to find in another day or so. Jason was well aware of the western extension of Florida at Apalachicola and was keeping farther offshore than he wanted to sail west of it. After he passed south of Apalachicola, he planned on hugging the coast closer. The wind speed is increasing as the landmass east of them warms.

The wind was strong and from the west exactly as Jason had hoped it would be. Martha sat by Jason and enjoyed the fresh warm wind and the sea breeze. Then without a word to Jason, Martha rose from the bench near Jason and the tiller, went forward, and crawled across the droplet-covered decking on top of the little cabin. Facing Jason, Martha slipped her dress over her head and lay down on the wet decking as naked as the day she was born. She smiled provocatively at Jason as she lay down on her back, exposed to the entire world with her feet close to the bow. Jason waited until he thought she was comfortable, warm, and dozing, then turned the sloop slightly to the west into the wind. The waves came splashing over the bow on the starboard side, soaking Martha. She sat up, drenched and laughing and wanting more. Jason turned the sloop closer to the wind and soaked his wife until she was giggling with girlish abandon. Jason had never heard her laugh before; laughter was very rare among the slaves.

The storm was increasing in intensity and was now between Tampico and Matamoros, twenty miles offshore with sustained winds of forty miles per hour and heading northeast at fifteen miles an hour. Being driven by a high-pressure area to the north, the storm would soon shift to an east-northeast direction, and its strength and size would increase.

Crystal River was a large volume spring-fed tidal river located ninety miles north of Tampa, Florida. The river was fed by two large crystal-clear springs and has a very high volume of water flow. The river was nine miles long and wide with low muddy and marshy banks until reaching the gulf, where the banks became oyster and rock bars and high islands. The mouth of the river was narrow and rocky with a treacherous flow during strong tide movements. There were several small islands at the river mouth formed by current and tidal flow. On the south side of the river mouth was a much larger island the Indians had named Shell Island. To the north and south of Shell Island were rocky tidal islands supporting mangrove trees forty feet high in some places. Seven miles upriver from Shell Island was a large Calusa Indian village.

Martha dried off with a small blanket and sat by Jason; she was still naked under the blanket. You seem happy, Jason said as Martha dried her hair.

I’m not as afraid as I was before. No one can find us now, can they?

"I don’t think so, and they may not try to find us. They don’t know where to look. They will probably think we have headed to the swamps north of New Orleans along the coast. There are many escaped slaves there living in the swamps, and we could easily hide the Sarah."

Can we really be free Jason? Can you and I really live as free men and women and raise our children to be free?

I don’t know what we will find in Florida, but I do know Captain Philips would not lie to me or help me if he thought this was too dangerous. We are going to a place where Captain Philips said the slavers were afraid to go.

To the south, rainclouds were gathering and growing dark with occasional faraway lightning flashes. Jason handed the tiller to Martha and started lowering his sails. There was an hour of daylight left, but Jason wanted the ship prepared for the brief storm before dark. With the anchor securely set, they entered the small cabin, close the watertight hatch behind them, and made love to each other as the rain hammered on the wet decking, and the Sarah swung easily with the wind.

They were awake with the sun. Martha was awake first; still naked, she dove into the clear water and swam around the Sarah, peeing as she swam. There was no wind, and the gulf water was flat and still as if resting from last night’s turbulence. The sky was clear with a few light and white clouds drifting aimlessly to the northwest of them. Jason emerged from the cabin naked and dove in the water near Martha. The two splashed and played like children oblivious to adult problems. Martha looked around her and saw nothing but the flat gulf: no sign of any ships pursuing them, no landmass, nothing to break the feeling of complete isolation and freedom. Martha had never felt so alive and at peace.

Before pulling his anchor, Jason looked at his rough chart and correctly determines they have traveled thirty leagues or close to a hundred miles. Martha sat near him and asked, Do you know where we are?

I have a good idea of where we are. I think we traveled over thirty leagues yesterday. Remember how fast we were moving yesterday afternoon when the wind was strong? Philips told me a man usually walks four miles an hour, and we were moving twice that. Unless there is a major change in the wind or weather patterns, we should have the same conditions today—a light morning wind, then stronger in the afternoon. Jason pulled the heavy anchor, asked Martha to take the rudder, and then set his jib sail. When the Sarah was slowly heading south-southeast, Jason set his mainsail, went to the rudder, and helped Martha set the correct course then trimmed his sails again.

The Sarah sang through the still gulf waters driven by a brisk and warm east wind. The hissing of the bow wake was the only sound in the world to Jason and Martha. A family of porpoises saw and heard them and swam closer to investigate. Martha had occasionally seen them before inside the harbor at New Orleans, but they were a rare sight, and Martha or Jason had never seen them this close. The porpoises played in the bow wake, starting behind the wake, then riding it, then catching it again for another ride. Martha went to the bow and held out her hand to them over the bow. One small light gray porpoise played with Martha, staying just out of reach of her outstretched hand and watching her as it swam sideways seeming to be smiling at her. They played in the bow wake for half an hour, then a school of mackerel caught their attention, and they quickly disappeared. Martha, still naked, stayed near the bow and daydreamed. Jason considered drenching her again, but she looked so peaceful and relaxed he decided against it.

* * *

Roberto sat in Philips’s office, still furious at Jason and Martha. "The Sarah cost me over two thousand francs in silver. I could have sold