Caryl Phillips - Cambridge

We rode at anchor on what I knew to be the coast, for the noises were those of unloading, and the heat and odour that of my native land. In this confined state I made continued and faithful pleas to the Almighty Lord. One whole week transpired before I realized that I would soon be visited by Guinea-men. I heard their voices, shrill in their different native tongues, and men they were upon me and bemoaning the circumstances which had led to their illegal captivity. That I could still make a little sense of my own native language among the many spoken gave me some comfort, but the treachery of these white men, even towards one such as I who esteemed their values, tore at my heart with great passion. That I, a virtual Englishman, was to be treated as base African cargo, caused me such hurtful pain as I was barely able to endure. To lose my dear wife, fair England, and now liberty in such rapid succession! Torrents of tears broke from my eyes, for I knew now that I would have to describe yet another passage of loss. The horrors of this second illegal journey I have chosen to forget, although this unnatural and painful murdering of the memory has caused me distress at least as great as that suffered whilst enduring the voyage. After many weeks of torment, the ship finally came to anchor. Having the advantage of a Christian education, I had no doubt that we were in the region of the Americas. My countrymen, however, were seized with great fear, knowing neither location nor their destiny. We articles of trade, once liberated from the intolerable aroma of the pestilential hold, were directed to remain on deck. From this vantage point we were able to observe the tropical new world that was now, home.

The vulgar crew seemed in a state of great joy, knowing that they would soon be on land. I simply listened and fretted at the blasphemous language displayed by these men. Then I caught the eye of both the captain and the Frenchman, but these buccaneers endeavoured to ignore my glare of Christian devotion tinged with anger. Unlike the parishioners of Warwickshire, whom I felt obliged to punish with love, these two devils I would have gladly tossed into the waters. Perhaps they sensed this, for although I made no further application for what was rightfully mine, my gaze provoked much shuffling of their feet. We drew close to the harbour and took cover amongst ships of different sizes and purpose. Under the blanket of darkness many planters and overseers came aboard and divided our black company into smaller parcels before deciding upon their illegal purchases. I faced these white men, with more knowledge of their country than they could possibly imagine, believing that through hard work and faith in the Lord God Almighty, my bondage would soon cease. The African world of my sad, dark brethren had been truly abandoned across the waters. They knew this now. For them a new American life was about to commence.

I alone of my parcel was purchased by a Mr Wilson, who made it known that my tide was to be Cambridge. He pointed towards me and repeated the word as though addressing an infant. My visage betrayed no trace of anger. I decided that by degrees I would reveal to them my knowledge of their language. Travelling by cart, we passed through the coastal capital of Baytown, and then turned inland. We picked our slow way up a hillside towards the plantation upon which I was to labour as a common slave. I listened as Mr Wilson addressed his black driver. He commented that he believed I possessed more intelligence than the others on offer, which caused me inwardly to smile. However, despite my large frame, he believed my physical strength, while far from disappeared, to be somewhat unsatisfactory when set against the potential lustiness of my fellow cargo. My master declared his purchase to be 'calculated'. We arrived at the plantation and I was rudely introduced to a hut which I was led to believe would be my house. Once inside I discovered a simple bench Uttered with straw, and a stench so insupportable that, although greatly desirous of sleep, such a commodity was impossible. I understood, through my own knowledge of the business, that I would be seasoned alone. Furthermore, I knew that any sign of indiscipline would be severely punished.

I passed my first weeks in solitude. Only fleeting visits from an exceedingly strange, yet spiritually powerful young girl, who daily brought me food and water, disturbed my isolation. When my seasoning was deemed complete, it was this same girl who began to escort me about the plantation and introduce me to my fellow slaves. My rapid acquisition of their language shocked them. I simply explained that I had tarried a while amongst English people, but when pressed I would say no more. I had determined that I would be a strange figure, quiet and reserved, for I intended my residence on this plantation to be brief, and felt that it would be unfair to begin to deliver a sermon I might never have the opportunity to conclude. I hoped that none amongst them would take offence at my reluctance to participate fully in their slave lives. Certainly the girl seemed content, and soon I came to develop a true affection for my odd female companion, and she for me. I told the girl nothing of my Anna, not wishing to divulge, in this place of unhappiness, anything of my previous felicity and taint my Anna's memory by association. Young and aloof, my unlikely escort, I quickly discovered, occupied among her slave-peers a position of respect occasioned by a formidable suspicion of her person.

Her history was a sad one. Born on the plantation, her mother had died shortly after her delivery, and her pagan father naturally spurned her. At ten years of age she was married to a man twenty years her senior. For three years this man treated her brutally while she refused to produce children. Meanwhile, the evidence of his capable manhood could be seen scampering across the slave village and improving his master's fortune by the minute. Her husband was eventually traded to another plantation, presumably to further display his breeding skills, and the girl was once more abandoned with neither protector nor any person who might show her some outward sign of affection. She subsequently developed a sullen nature which caused her fellow slaves to fear her, for their understanding was that the cruelties inflicted upon her during her violent marriage had merely compounded the strangeness that the unloved misery of her early years had forged in her soul.

Now I was manifestly a West Indian slave, but I refused to accept the woeful conclusion that there was little hope of manumission through either the generosity of Mr Wilson, or the evidence of my good deeds. The execrable years bred quickly but never, not for one moment, did I lose faith in the redeeming powers of the Good Lord. My hair took on a grey aspect, and my strength began to fade, yet all the while I remained true to my Lord and hoped one day to be afforded the privilege of preaching again in dear England on the subject of my travels and experiences as a son of God. Sadly, as she budded into womanhood, my strange escort became even more unpopular amongst her fellow-slaves. Her curious mind remained closed, and she seemed incapable of conversing with anybody beyond myself. I talked with her of our Lord, and attempted to explain that Jesus Christ had lain down his life for such as us, but her undeniably spiritual nature was absorbed in an entirely different direction.

The other slaves claimed her to be a possessor of the skills of obeah, but I refused to be drawn into their discussions. I recognized in her a growing aberrance and mind-wandering detachment, yet the loneliness that this ailment necessarily bestows upon its victims may have contributed to the powerfully sympathetic affection that I continued to feel towards her. Perhaps we were a case of curiosity attracting curiosity, for the respect which I commanded on account of my Christian learning and knowledge of the world was matched only by the caution with which every person viewed my woman friend. After a slow and wilfully paced courtship that lasted many West Indian seasons, I, Cambridge the field-hand, requested that the woman occupy my hut as my wife. Without uttering a word she willingly agreed, for she was now entering a period of her malady when she insisted that she distrusted words. And so we began to share our lives in my hut, and I watched and cherished her, all the while praying that the infusion of Christian values into her soul might help to obscure the miserable details of her life, which others claimed had resulted in her being blessed with this excess of pagan vision.