‹ Prequel: Going Bush
Going Bush 2: Suburbia
57
The group spoke in hushed Spanish as they sat under the cover of trees that overlooked an area where the horses were trained. The area below was lit by firelight and there were many people down there. Taylor was tempted to dig in his heels and hightail it back to the stables, but there was something about the African that against his better judgement Taylor felt that he could trust.
“Ibby,” the man said suddenly in a deep voice, a hand on his chest.
“Sorry?” Taylor frowned, the three other young men stepping forward to look him over.
“Ibby,” he repeated, patting his chest before reaching forward to touch Taylor’s.
“Oh,” Taylor realised before patting his chest in turn, “Taylor.”
Ibby nodded before indicating the three boys, all looking to be in their late teens or early twenties.
“Lukka,” they nodded in succession, “Tranu, Siemme.”
“Lukka, Tranu, Siemme,” Taylor nodded to each of them, making them smile, “…and Ibby.”
“Si!” Ibby nodded with a smile.
“American?” Siemme asked with a thick accent.
“Yes,” Taylor nodded, his adrenaline starting to pump as he began to realise that the slaves must be friends who met up regularly.
He recognised both Tranu and Siemme from the kitchen that morning. Lukka he hadn’t seen before.
Tranu reached out to gingerly touch Taylor’s collar. Taylor had noticed that the three boys all wore what looked like a thin iron ring to signify their status - as opposed to Ibby’s gold one. Remembering the woman’s earlier statement about needing a blacksmith to replace his collar, he suddenly realised that theirs had been welded together and were therefore irremovable. Having been looking forward to getting out of the thick leather, he now wasn’t so sure he wanted to.
Tranu said something to Lukka in Spanish, and indicated Taylor’s height. Any other time Taylor would have rolled his eyes but he was trying to pick up on what they were saying. Ibby gave him a curious look as he watched.
“¿Habla usted español?”
“No,” Taylor shook his head, knowing what that had meant at least.
Ibby gave him a pat on the back, before indicating for him to sit with them. Taylor accepted the end of his chain as he handed it to him before kneeling down between he and Siemme. He realised they were there to watch whatever was going on down below in the yards.
It wasn’t long before there was some sort of commotion and they began to pay closer attention. When Taylor leant forward he could see that there was a group of older men – older than him anyhow – that appeared to be dragging someone through the dirt.
“What’s going on?” Taylor frowned, receiving hushes from the boys.
He looked to Ibby, who only indicated for Taylor to watch.
The person who’d been dragged into the yard was soon tied to post, the men circling and laughing. One went to fetch a whip from a fencepost and quickly unwound it before striking a first blow.
“Oh my-!” Taylor sat back as Siemme’s hand clamped over his mouth.
He closed his eyes and clamped his hands over his ears, but he could still hear the man’s screams after every crack of the whip. Once Siemme let him go he felt Ibby’s hand on his shoulder.
Opening his eyes only to look at Ibby, he watched as he turned to show Taylor his back. Scars crisscrossed as far as Taylor could see.
“Why?” Taylor asked, unable to stop his eyes welling up.
Not knowing the question, Ibby was unable to answer. He replaced his shirt and continued to watch.
“Ibby,” the man said suddenly in a deep voice, a hand on his chest.
“Sorry?” Taylor frowned, the three other young men stepping forward to look him over.
“Ibby,” he repeated, patting his chest before reaching forward to touch Taylor’s.
“Oh,” Taylor realised before patting his chest in turn, “Taylor.”
Ibby nodded before indicating the three boys, all looking to be in their late teens or early twenties.
“Lukka,” they nodded in succession, “Tranu, Siemme.”
“Lukka, Tranu, Siemme,” Taylor nodded to each of them, making them smile, “…and Ibby.”
“Si!” Ibby nodded with a smile.
“American?” Siemme asked with a thick accent.
“Yes,” Taylor nodded, his adrenaline starting to pump as he began to realise that the slaves must be friends who met up regularly.
He recognised both Tranu and Siemme from the kitchen that morning. Lukka he hadn’t seen before.
Tranu reached out to gingerly touch Taylor’s collar. Taylor had noticed that the three boys all wore what looked like a thin iron ring to signify their status - as opposed to Ibby’s gold one. Remembering the woman’s earlier statement about needing a blacksmith to replace his collar, he suddenly realised that theirs had been welded together and were therefore irremovable. Having been looking forward to getting out of the thick leather, he now wasn’t so sure he wanted to.
Tranu said something to Lukka in Spanish, and indicated Taylor’s height. Any other time Taylor would have rolled his eyes but he was trying to pick up on what they were saying. Ibby gave him a curious look as he watched.
“¿Habla usted español?”
“No,” Taylor shook his head, knowing what that had meant at least.
Ibby gave him a pat on the back, before indicating for him to sit with them. Taylor accepted the end of his chain as he handed it to him before kneeling down between he and Siemme. He realised they were there to watch whatever was going on down below in the yards.
It wasn’t long before there was some sort of commotion and they began to pay closer attention. When Taylor leant forward he could see that there was a group of older men – older than him anyhow – that appeared to be dragging someone through the dirt.
“What’s going on?” Taylor frowned, receiving hushes from the boys.
He looked to Ibby, who only indicated for Taylor to watch.
The person who’d been dragged into the yard was soon tied to post, the men circling and laughing. One went to fetch a whip from a fencepost and quickly unwound it before striking a first blow.
“Oh my-!” Taylor sat back as Siemme’s hand clamped over his mouth.
He closed his eyes and clamped his hands over his ears, but he could still hear the man’s screams after every crack of the whip. Once Siemme let him go he felt Ibby’s hand on his shoulder.
Opening his eyes only to look at Ibby, he watched as he turned to show Taylor his back. Scars crisscrossed as far as Taylor could see.
“Why?” Taylor asked, unable to stop his eyes welling up.
Not knowing the question, Ibby was unable to answer. He replaced his shirt and continued to watch.