Caryl Phillips: Crossing the River

Sad to report, but before my retreat from the capital I was able to ascertain that these days the chief topic of conversation is that ancient immovable, slavery. Hardly a week passes on this coast of Africa without some report of a sea-bound slaver, and its unfortunate cargo, who have been afforded protection by the unfurling of the Star Spangled Banner. Without the hoisting of this emblem, the British man-of-wars would quickly, and happily, take these ships captive and liberate their black inhabitants. To most colored men, who reside here in liberty, and would expect liberty to encompass all of Africa, this dark land of our forefathers, this American protectionism is a disgrace to our dignity, and a stain on the name of our country. The hoisting of some other banner would be scarcely less insulting, but that they choose to sport our national flag, this is surely too much. But sadly, there is still more to be said on this subject of slavery. It appears that slave-dealers are establishing slave factories within the territory of Liberia, cunningly situating them further down the coast in the hope of avoiding prying eyes. The Governor recently ordered one such villain away, telling him he had no right to deal in slaves in that territory, and instructing him under threat of penalty that he must remove his factory in so many days. However, contrary to his agreement, he would not do so, and so the factory was broken up and forty puncheons of rum turned loose on the ground. There are those in Monrovia who profit handsomely from this business , and who would choose to ignore the existence of such evil deeds and their correction, but the problems of slavery continue to plague us, yes, even here in the bosom of liberty.

The rains are still with us, and the sky continues to open its heart and shed tears upon all the known earth. Master, you took me into your house as a young boy and instructed me in the ways of civilized man. Under your tutelage, I acquired whatever rude skills I now possess in the art of reading and writing, and more besides. Why have you forsaken me? There are many things I cannot discuss with my native wife, for it would be improper for her to share with me the memories of what I was before. I am to her what she found here in Africa. If this is to be goodbye, then let it be with love and respect in equal portion. I must close these hasty lines by saying I remain your affectionate son.

Nash Williams

Just when Edward’s recovery appeared complete, he was seized again by another severe fever and the accompanying shivering. He dragged his wretched body back to the safety of his bed, and, as the British doctor applied a cold towel to his head, he closed his bloodshot eyes. Sadly, Edward’s stubborn fever refused to break, and merciful sleep eluded him as his mind ranged back and forth. When sleep did come it was soon destroyed by demons which prodded at his memory as though it were an open wound. Accordingly, at night he chose instead to lie perfectly still, the towel now hot and burning his brow, his stubbled aspect irritating him to the point of madness, and he simply stared out of the window and up into the black African sky. The thick heat of this devil’s climate clung to him like a woven blanket, and he was constantly visited by that unwelcome guest, thirst. Edward prayed earnestly, and with devotion, that he might be spared these days and nights of sad affliction, and that his health be soon restored to him.

Some two weeks later, his gait betraying little of his recent bout of illness, Edward was once more able to walk about unaided. The doctor informed him that he was now acclimatized, and whilst he must continue to be ever vigilant with regard to the many diseases which abounded on the African coast, his worst fears were over. Edward secured temporary lodgings down by the harbor, and then set about making enquiries as to how he might obtain a passage to Liberia. A Dutch sea captain, who chanced to be drinking in the same tavern as Edward, informed him that whilst he was battling with the fever, whatever dispute it was that had occasioned the cessation of civilities between Sierra Leone and Liberia had been successfully concluded. Apparently, he would simply have to await the arrival of a ship that would agree to transport him. Edward thanked the gentleman, and listened as the sad, drawn-out sound of a bugle being blown from the parapets of the British fortress signalled the end of the day. As the last note drifted away and across the sea, Edward emptied his tankard, gathered up his cane, tipped his hat, and retired to his rented rooms, where he slept and dreamed soundly, and passed a blessed night without once breaking sweat.

The following afternoon, Edward engaged the services of the first mate of an American trading vessel. The experienced sea dog advised Edward that they would be setting sail on the evening tide, which meant there would be little time for Edward to occupy himself with spiritual preparation for the journey ahead. He simply hurried back to his rooms, gathered his belongings, paid the landlord, and employed a sturdy native to convey his boxed personal effects to the ship. The moon shimmered on the wrinkled face of the sea, and a stern breeze bellied out the sail. Edward settled in, and decided that he would pass most of his time sitting out on deck amongst the bales of luggage, breathing deeply of the salty air, and staring at the gleaming shoals of flying fish which leapt to either side of the ship. His inner being was filled with a strange tranquility, and a deep peace fell upon him at least the equal to any he had ever known in his life, although the origins and purpose of this strangely contemplative mood eluded him. In his mind he would rehearse scenes from the life of Christ, yet found that even in Christ’s moments of greatest adversity, such as when betrayed by Judas, or when being led to the Cross, his Lord’s face never lost its purity and compassion. Edward wondered if this peace were not perhaps the herald of his impending demise, but when this thought fought its way into his mind, he redoubled his strength and immediately banished it.

There was simply no way of Edward discovering whether the man with whom he most eagerly desired an audience, namely Madison Williams, had received the letter informing him of Edward’s intention to set sail for Liberia, and giving him notice of the anticipated week of arrival. Following the souring of Edward’s relationship with this difficult man, when it became clear to all that a junior slave, Nash, had supplanted Madison in the master’s affections, Madison, a strong, proud man, both of character and stature, had withdrawn from the house and, in the privacy of the slave village, intensified his efforts to acquaint himself with the Bible and with the skills of reading and writing. After nearly two years, in which Madison rejected Edward’s many overtures towards him, perhaps recognizing that they originated in Edward’s guilt at having surrendered to his own changing passions, a sober-looking Madison had presented himself at the house and requested an audience of his master. When Edward appeared he announced that he now considered himself sufficiently educated, and properly acquainted with God’s ways, to have earned his freedom and subsequent transportation to the new African territory of Liberia. Edward, who had long desired the opportunity of bestowing upon Madison a gesture of good-will, hurriedly agreed to Madison’s request and asked if there were anything further that he might do. Madison shook his head firmly, bowed and withdrew. Soon after, he made his preparations to depart for Africa. His subsequent letters to Edward, though brief, had remained polite. Through them, Edward was able to discover that Madison had settled in Monrovia and was eking out a living as a small trader selling palm oil, rice, camwood, and animal skins to passing European and American ships. As this short voyage unfolded, Edward arrived at the uncomfortable conclusion that, perhaps because of the warmth of their first encounters, or perhaps this and the additional fact that the passage of time had served to sever Edward’s links with many of his other former charges, Madison had now become the only person in Africa whom he felt he could trust. Indeed, it had been to Madison that he had immediately turned when faced with the unpleasant details of Nash’s abrupt and final message. He would now have little choice but to place his entire confidence in this man.