Six Notches on the Whip

Keith C. Payne

Description

During the 17th Century, slavery was at its peak, and 400 years later, in the 21st Century, in some places, it still exists, although the name has changed to make slavery appear more acceptable, but not as savage.
Hence I am writing this novel, so we don’t forget.

Sujets

• Slavery
• Novel
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse UK
• Date de parution: 09 octobre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781728375700
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

SIX NOTCHES ON THE WHIP
 
 
 
 
KEITH C. PAYNE
 
 
 

 
AuthorHouse™ UK
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Bloomington, IN 47403 USA
www.authorhouse.co.uk
Phone: UK TFN: 0800 0148641 (Toll Free inside the UK)
UK Local: (02) 0369 56322 ([phone] from outside the UK)
 
 
 
© 2022 Keith C. Payne. All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse 10/07/2022
 
ISBN: 978-1-7283-7571-7 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-7283-7570-0 (e)
 
 
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Chapter 1
It was time for work in the fields, and Johnson climbed from his bed as the daylight was about to rise; it was five a.m.
Looking down at my bed, I wished I could have had longer to sleep as I’m still exhausted. The straw is scattered all over the floor, so I imagine it must have been one of my nightmares that caused me to spread it everywhere.
Or, more than likely, it’s the increased pain I can feel in my back that caused my night-time disturbance, as yesterday I had a worse-than-usual day in the Cane fields.
The Guards were brutal; whenever I paused for a moment, they whipped me or kicked me in the legs. Then, as I screamed in agony, the Guards laughed. And worst of all was when they kicked me in my groin. This extreme pain initially took my breath away; When I collapsed on the ground, they kicked me again, shouting at me to get on with my work!
At that moment, they would have known why I couldn’t continue, but they wanted an excuse to assault me, not that they needed a reason in the first place, as they had total authority over us innocents!
I was always relieved as nightfall approached and we returned to the Outhouse. However, it was painful, as one guard continually whipped me for not moving fast enough, but this was no different from normal.
As you will realize, there was absolutely nothing I could do about it other than between the bouts of pain; imagine I was reversing the roles as this eased my suffering.
I depicted the guard writhing in agony on the ground as his arms attempted to defend himself, and I whipped him without mercy!
Then an instant later, I was back to reality, and each time he whipped me, I screamed with pain, and he warned me to shut up, or I could expect worse!
There was no doubt in my mind what he meant by this expression!
Anyway, forgetting about what happened yesterday, as every day is just unbearable, I kick the straw back to where my bed is supposed to be and walk outside for a wash in the vegetation-covered wooden tub with different vegetation all down the wooden slats.
I know this is for washing, but I’m so thirsty that I dip my head in the water despite the possible infections which I know are present.
Mosquitoes fly around the tub, and dead Mosquitoes float in the water. While washing, I’m always aware of how much the water stinks, and that’s no surprise as it probably hasn’t been changed for at least a month; The Master doesn’t like to throw the rainwater away and wastewater, although he’s happy enough to waste us human beings!
Anyway, I suppose I was fortunate that it had been a warm night, as it’s incredibly unpleasant sleeping in this draughty outbuilding of the master’s house.
When it’s cold, none of us has a covering of any kind, and even laying on a layer of straw no deeper than my fingertip made no difference, and of course, the ground continually dried by the daytime heat is always rock-hard!
As usual, I am appalled by the appearance of the wooden tub and the diseases that threatened us all! I wash my face; the smell is sickening!
The women are fortunate they don’t shave; we must do that using our Machete knives, but they’re heavy and always blunt. It isn’t comforting to shave while somebody points a rifle at you, and you always wonder what the guards might do, as such an event isn’t imaginary; it’s a regular event.
One of the master’s guards has told us he enjoys how he can terrify us, as we always dread washing and fearfully wonder what might come next.
I remember when a young girl was washing her face in the tub, and for no apparent reason, one of Garcia’s men shot her in the head with his shotgun.
It was such a mess, with the tub looking as though it was full of blood and the remnants of her brains, yet the guards gave us no option but to drink this revolting mess or die of thirst!
As you can imagine, we would rather die! However, we prayed that this tub of bloody water would eventually evaporate in the daytime heat, no matter how thirsty we were. But unfortunately, we were never going to have such luck!
The other enslaved people are stretching their limbs, ready for work, although I feel the painful wounds on my back, and I can’t help but rub them with my hands. The whiplash wounds stretch all over my back, and the lacerations are so large that they remind me of running my hands down a pile of cane, but without the intense pain!
I know they’re festering as I can feel the puss; also, there is a horrible smell, nearly as bad as the water tub! I can also feel the Mosquitos moving on my wounds, but as soon as I slap my back, they fly away, but within a second, they return.
It’s a recurring aggravation, but I can do nothing to stop Mosquitoes!
‘Please don’t do that, Johnson. If you keep slapping your back, you will spread your infection!’ A Woman behind me with a soft southern accent advised.
‘But it’s a natural reaction for me, Maam!’
‘Maybe, but it’s still bad for you!’
‘Thank you anyway. I think you must be a recent addition to the cane force; What’s your name?’
‘It’s Maria.’
‘Well, thank you for your concern, Maria.’
‘That’s alright, Johnson.’
This Woman knew my name, and she was somebody different I could talk to; not only that, she was so lovely I wanted her to stay talking with me.
She apologised for ending the conversation and returned to the other women preparing for today’s nightmare at work. Still, before walking away, she warned me to look after my infected wounds.
Her concern was pleasing, a person who showed they cared; It was something I rarely expected in this camp. But unfortunately, I know I will suffer the same inhuman treatment today and every day until the guards eventually kill me!
I wish the whoresons would shoot me and do it today, as that would be a glorious relief! Anybody who lived outside in standard premises couldn’t possibly understand what we suffered here and why we reached the point of depression and wanted to end our lives!
A friend, Camara tells me that he has seen the Master testing his latest whip on another slave, Abebe; the leather whip has six lashes, with six notches on each thong, and I don’t want him to thrash me with that, as the pain would be unbearable. Still, I suppose no different from Garcia’s many vicious torments!
From what I hear from Camara, Abebe, the poor soul, did arise from the brutal beating, although nobody has seen him since.
Still, from what we endure, I’m sure that, like me, he would be relieved that death is a pleasant sleep, although eternal!
The Master wants a superior weapon that will cause us immense pain, and he enjoys watching us suffer as he plays his games with this six-thonged whip!
After all, we receive whippings more frequently than we do food, if you call what they give us food!
The Guards give us scraps of bread and, if we’re lucky, sometimes they provide sweetcorn.
This sweetcorn is what we pick during the day, but heaven help us if we help ourselves to this corn while working!
Jacob Harris tells me he was snatched from his fishing boat and his parents mercilessly slaughtered when they attempted to protect him against Garcia’s men. Everything is so atrocious here that he wishes he had died along with them! But now, he continues that he will escape from the Plantation, whatever it takes!
Anyway, I know I will be working the fields again and experiencing another day of despair, as nothing changes except more deaths!
‘Outside, everybody!’ Shouted the guards. They were ready for us to start work.
There is a crush as we rush outside the door. Not because we’re hurrying to work but because we know the last ones always receive a painful beating, which is much worse than the individual lashing or two we usually receive on our way to the fields!
Maria follows me, looking at my infected back and smiles as I turn around. She dared not ask me how I was, as the guards would have beaten her for talking, and then, I’d also receive a lashing because I was the one with whom she was conversing!