She took the tray from her father and carried it to the table. He sat down across from her while she poured cups of tea. “I have some terrible news,” he said.
Rachel’s hand flew to her mouth in fear. “Is it Captain Halloren?”
“No, of course not. He’s still patrolling off Sherbro Island. I’m sure he’s fine.” He paused and blew over the steaming tea in his cup. “It’s Mrs Chelly. One of the regiment patrols found her body this morning out in the bush bordering the city.”
17
Mrs Chelly was dead.Rachel reeled from her father’s news. The mission cook tried to kill her, and now she was dead.
She peered into her father’s eyes. She didn’t want him to smooth over the facts to spare her feelings. “Do they know who killed her?”
“No. They found her early this morning. That’s all the message from Governor MacCarthy’s office said.”
“How…how did she die?”
“Someone slashed her throat.”
“That’s terrible. Why would anyone do such a thing to her? She’s been our cook for years. How could she have made such a dangerous enemy?”
“Slaving is serious, dangerous business. Anyone who lives by such violence is likely to have to face violence to their own person.”
Rachel knew her father was right. And yet she now knew her mother’s family were in that very business. However, she still felt such an overwhelming need to meet them that she tamped down her fear of what might await her in a slaving village.
As soon as her afternoon English class was over, she’d have to take Mingo aside and see if he knew anyone with a boat they could borrow.
Chris gavethe order to strike the anchor. Dawn was just painting the eastern horizon with every shade of pink and yellow in nature’s paintbox. He’d made his crew ferry all of the slaves they’d found the night before through the dark and out to theThistle. His push for speed had paid off, because all the released men were now aboard and fed. When the wind off Sherbro Island freshened and filled their sails, he sighed in relief. He could return to see for himself how Rachel fared after her bout with the poisoned tea.
He’d been through a lot in the Royal Navy, but he’d never been as terrified as the night he spent watching over Rachel’s barely breathing form and wondering if she’d ever open her eyes again.
They should be back to Freetown Harbor before nightfall.
Rachel lookedover the sea of anxious faces in her English classroom. Everyone was afraid of the test she’d promised she’d be giving them today. She smiled and relieved their worries. “This is not going to be a test where you have to stand and give me answers to my questions. I want to know you are comfortable in a conversation.” She paused to build suspense. “I’m going to ask everyone to give an account, in English, of where you were and what you were doing when you were taken by the slavers.”
Mingo raised his hand first. “I was fishing with my brother on the bank of the river near our house.”
Rachel asked in English: “What time of the day?”
“It was about time for the evening meal, which we were fishing for…”
“And then what happened?”
“They took me.”
“What about your brother?”
“They said he was too small…”
“Go on, please.”
“And they left him there by the river bank. I’ve never seen him since.”
Rachel knew it was hard for the students to relive their captures, but felt it was important for them to converse from the heart without thinking about a formal speech.
Another young man at the back of the classroom raised his hand. “A man came to our village and said he had work for strong young men at another village.”
“Why did you go with him?”
“Because I was poor and thought I could earn some money.”
