Sins of Omission (12 page)

“You expect me to provoke Johansson into flogging me to death just as a little favor to you?” Max chortled.  “Are you completely mad, man?  What kind of a fool would I have to be to agree to this mad scheme?  I might have hit rock bottom, but I’m not ready to just give up and die, not even for a good cause.  Thank you for the juice,” Max added as he got to his feet.  Xeno just watched him until Max turned away, then his voice stopped Max in his tracks.

“You haven’t heard what I’m offering in return, Lord Everly.  Freedom.”

“If you mean that I will be free of this life then I think I’ve got the point,” Max threw back over his shoulder.

“No, I mean freedom –- and life.  Won’t you hear me out?”  Xeno’s voice sounded like warm honey as it drew Max back.  He was like a snake charmer and Max was the snake, unable to resist the lure of the siren call.

Max reluctantly sat back down and faced Xeno, his face all hard angles and lines.  This man was playing games, and Max was no man’s fool.  However, something in Xeno’s voice held him captive, and he needed to understand what was really happening here.  Dido seemed to be hovering behind him, listening, and silently willing him to agree, but he ignored her seductive presence, focusing instead on her brother.

“Lord Everly, as I’m sure you already know, since you followed us a few nights ago and watched our ritual of blood sacrifice, we practice the ancient art of Voodoo.  Many people believe this to be black magic, but it has nothing to do with that.  Voodoo is about the connection between all living things and a devotion to each other.  We summon spirits to help those who are in need of guidance, and we offer sacrifice which symbolizes the cycle of life,” Xeno began.

“That’s very illuminating, but what has this got to do with me?” Max asked rudely.

“My sister is a priestess who has extensive knowledge of plants, herbs, and poisons.  She uses her skill to heal, but there are other, more potent potions which can also be useful in our situation.”

“You are still talking in riddles, Xeno,” Max replied, growing more annoyed by the moment.  What did any of this have to do with what Xeno had suggested? 

“All right, I will come straight to the point.  Johansson never flogs the white indentures as severely as the Negro slaves.  There’s no chance of you actually dying from a flogging.  The only way you could die is from festering of the wounds which could be a result of the flogging.  Once dead, you would be buried in the graveyard on the plantation and forgotten about, but your story would live on, at least for a little while,” Xeno stated.

“Sounds about right, so I’ll be on my way if you don’t mind,” Max retorted, angry for having allowed himself a tiny seed of hope.

“Dido can make a potion which would slow down your heart and cool your body, making you appear dead for several hours.  You will be declared dead and buried, which will serve our purpose, but then you will wake up.  My men will dig you up and take you through the jungle to the port where you will board a vessel bound for France.  The
La Belle
will be docking in a few days, and will be ready to return to France after it’d been unloaded, re-provisioned, and reloaded with cargo for the return voyage.  You can be on it.”

Max just gaped at the man.  He had to be stark raving mad to propose what he just had.  “Let me see if I understand you correctly, Xeno.  You wish me to get flogged, pretend to die of infection, and then consent to be buried alive in the faint hope that you might dig me back up.  And, if that actually happens, you claim that you can get me off the plantation and onto a French ship?  I have a few questions, if you will,” Max said forcefully.  He was getting really bloody fed up with this charade.

“If you have the power to drug people, why not drug Johansson and his minions and escape yourself?  You could all escape into the jungle one night and no one would find you.  How on earth could you know about the French vessel, and why would anyone allow you to bring me on board, even if you could smuggle me out?  And even if I got as far as the French ship, I have no money to pay for my passage, and I assume, neither do you.  And, why would you help me escape once your objective had been met?  You could just leave me buried alive, which would suit your purposes just as admirably.  Why bother going through this charade of helping me escape to freedom?  You must think me a real fool, Xeno,” Max spat out.

“You have every right to be suspicious, but I will answer your questions one by one,” Xeno replied.  He didn’t seem in the least annoyed or offended by Max’s ire.  Instead he inclined his head in acknowledgment of Max’s concerns, almost eager to speak further of his plan.  “We’ve given Johansson a small amount of Water Hemlock every time we needed him out of the way, but to actually kill him would have severe repercussions since we would be instantly suspected of the crime.  We need him reined in, not dead.  A new overseer could be even more brutal, so we’d be right back where we started,” Xeno explained. 

“The reason we don’t escape is because we have nowhere to go.  One or two people have run off in the past, hence the bar on the door, but to rescue everyone would require a place to go where we could live in peace and freedom, and that doesn’t exist on this island.  There are currently less than one hundred free blacks on Barbados, and they live in perpetual fear of losing their freedom,” Xeno said with disgust.  Max was sure that the day he lost his own freedom would be fresh in his mind till the day he died.

“To get off the island would invite the attention of the authorities, so we would all be recaptured and sent back to be severely punished and tormented for our crime.  Some might even be killed to teach the rest a lesson.  Most of us come from the same place, if not from the same village.  We are family now, and we either all go together or stay together,” Xeno said forcefully.  Max could see why he’d been chosen as leader.  He had a certain charisma that was hard to refute.

“Now, you ask how I know of the vessel and how I could get you aboard.  I will tell you.  The captain of the
La Belle
is a smuggler and a pirate.  I meet him whenever he’s in port, as do some of the slaves from neighboring plantations.  We exchange certain goods which don’t concern you.  It’s a mutually lucrative enterprise which will continue as long as both parties continue to prosper.  If I ask the captain to hide you on board, he will do so.  He will not help you once you reach France, nor will he treat you like a nobleman, but he will fulfill his end of the bargain and get you away from Barbados, if that’s what we agree to.”

“What could you possibly have to smuggle out?” Max asked, his voice full of derision.  These people were as poor as church mice.  What could they possibly have to trade that would be worth anything to a French privateer?

“We have something of value to the French, but that must remain a secret until you are on board the ship,” Xeno replied calmly.

“You don’t need to go through the trouble of digging me up if I agree.  You can just leave me to die in the graveyard,” Max pointed out.

“I can, but I won’t.  I am a black man and a slave, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have honor, Lord Everly.  Honor is not something anyone can take away from me, and I pride myself on being a man of my word.  I’m sure that you’ve seen the amount of graves in the cemetery.  There are many.  What do you think your chances of survival are?  How many actually return home?  I’ve been here since I was sixteen years old, and there were only two men who regained their freedom.  I believe they hired themselves out as part of the crew and were able to sail back to England, to an uncertain future.  Hundreds, if not thousands, have died all over Barbados from yellow fever, being worked to death, or simply because they’d given up and taken their own lives.  You won’t see their graves in the cemetery, but they are all here.

This is your chance to regain your freedom and eventually return home.  I cannot get you on a vessel bound for England since you will be immediately returned to Jessop Greene, but sailing to France will set you free.  From there you can return to England under a false name and go about reclaiming the life you left behind.  You have my word, Lord Everly, that I will keep my part of the bargain if you agree to help us.”

“And what, exactly, would you give me to make me appear dead to someone like Erik Johansson?  He’s no fool and would be on to you in moments, and I would pay the price for the deception,” Max replied, curious despite his better judgment.  “Have you ever done this before?”

Xeno was silent for a few moments as he considered Max’s final question.  So, this was it; he had nothing, Max realized.  All this was just a clever ruse to get him to agree.  Xeno likely never expected Max to ask exactly what would be used, and didn’t have a ready reply.  Xeno looked away from Max, his eyes searching out those of his sister who was hovering quietly behind Max, listening in on the conversation.  “You better tell him, Dido,” Xeno finally said.  “He has a right to know.”

“Very well.”  Dido didn’t sound pleased at being ordered to divulge her methods, but she obediently sat down next to the two men and spoke in a low whisper, so as to keep the information between only the three of them.  A Voodoo priestess needed to keep her secrets.

“There is one substance which can produce the result we seek; it is the poison of the puffer fish.  It’s very deadly, but when administered in a tiny quantity can cause the slowing of the heart, undetectable breathing and pulse, and a paralysis of the body.  The victims are totally senseless, and can remain so for several days, depending on the amount of poison used.  They wake up once the poison wears off with no visible ill effects,” Dido explained, her eyes never leaving Max’s face, silently challenging him to question her knowledge.

“Has this ever been done before?” Max asked suspiciously.  He’d heard of fatal cases of blowfish poisoning, which he supposed was in the same family as puffer fish, and those had been mostly in Japan, but had never read anything about puffer fish causing a death-like state from which a person could wake up without suffering brain damage.

“Puffer fish poison is often used in Voodoo to make zombies,” Dido replied defensively.

“Zombies?”  Max almost choked on the word.  He thought that zombies were an invention of the twentieth-century entertainment industry, so the term sounded surreal coming from someone like Dido.

“I know you are not familiar with the term,” Dido said patiently, “but zombification has been around for some time, particularly in Haiti.  It’s a punishment for severe crimes,” she stated and grew quiet.

“And how exactly does this punishment work?” Max asked, still amazed that he was discussing zombies with an African slave in the seventeenth-century.

“The victim is given enough puffer fish poison to appear dead and is buried alive,” Dido replied, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.  “He comes back to life after several days and is dug up, but the punishment is not over.  Another potion is given to him, which induces a permanent state of delirium and confusion.  When in this state, the person can be commanded to do anything, and they will.  Their mental faculties are too impaired to think clearly.  Eventually, this condition wears off, and the person returns to normal.”  Dido’s eyes slid away from Max’s in embarrassment.  She didn’t approve of this, he could tell, but she was ready to give him poison to make him appear dead.

“Have you ever zombified anyone?” Max asked, refusing to let Dido off the hook.  He wanted to know the truth.

“I have never done that to anyone, nor would I, regardless of the crime they’d committed,” Dido said hotly, “but I have experimented with puffer fish poison and am familiar with its effects.  I know exactly how much to administer to get the desired result.”

“So, how do you know about zombies then?” Max asked, still curious.

“There was a
bokur
from Haiti on the ship which took us from our home.  A
bokur
is a Vodun sorcerer who practices black magic,” she added seeing Max’s look of incomprehension.  “He was very knowledgeable, and we talked during the voyage.  He taught me many things, some of which I still practice.  I do not use my skills to punish or cause suffering, only to help the people I serve,” Dido stated, head held high and eyes blazing.

Max remained silent for a long while after Dido finished speaking, considering what he’d just learned.  She got up and left him alone with Xeno, who sat silently on the floor, legs crossed, and eyes partially closed.  If someone told Max an hour ago that he would be considering temporary death and discussing zombies, he’d think them crazy, but nothing that had happened to him in the past six months had been even remotely sane, he mused bitterly. Time travel was the stuff of science fiction movies, yet here he was, trapped and without hope of escape.

“You are asking me for complete trust, Xeno,” Max said at last, watching the man for any hint of falseness or cunning. 

“I am, but I’m offering you something just as precious in return.  I don’t expect you to give me an answer now, but please think about it.  The
La Belle
will dock in a few days, and won’t be ready to sail back to France for at least ten days.  You have until then.”

“I don’t need until then.  The answer is no.”

Max rose to his feet, gave Xeno a mock bow, and disappeared into the tunnel.  Having turned his back, he didn’t see the look that passed between Xeno and his sister, but had he seen it, he would have been surprised. 

It had grown dark while he was talking to Xeno, but the rain had stopped and the air was fresh and cool.  Max gazed up at the heavens, surprised to see a sky full of stars; the heavens like black velvet strewn with diamonds, breathtaking as only a Caribbean sky could be.  The air smelled of wet earth, tropical flowers, and a whiff of something spicy coming from the kitchen.  No doubt Johansson and his men dined on different dishes than the workers.  Max returned to his hut, but didn’t go in.  He sat on the stoop until his clothes fully dried and the gong sounded for supper.  He rose to his feet and followed the rest of the men to the open tent with trestle tables and benches where the meals were served, but his mind was a thousand miles away.