Timothy of the Cay
“Being a Slave OCTOBER 1884—In the night quiet of Back o' All, from his floor mat Timothy asked Tante Hannah why the bukras had left him. The Amager had been a stone in his belly all day. He had a broken heart, his disappointment so big he was drowning in it.
He hadn't known what to do with himself since early morning. For a while he'd walked in circles in Upper John and Dunko, staying away from Back o' All and the waterfront so no one would say, "Thot yuh gone to sea, boy." About noon he'd returned home, silent and brooding, then had gone with Tante Hannah to deliver ironed wash to the estate on Frenchman Bay Road. They'd caught a ride part of the way on a friend's donkey cart, not returning until time for supper at twilight.
But he hadn't mentioned the Amager until this moment, well after the evening meal, more than twelve hours after the ship had stood out to sea. Tante Hannah wisely hadn't brought it up either.
She sighed. "Can't say exactly why." A gullie settled on the roof w...ith a cha-cha-chi sound, its claws scratching the palm fronds.MoreLess
He hadn't known what to do with himself since early morning. For a while he'd walked in circles in Upper John and Dunko, staying away from Back o' All and the waterfront so no one would say, "Thot yuh gone to sea, boy." About noon he'd returned home, silent and brooding, then had gone with Tante Hannah to deliver ironed wash to the estate on Frenchman Bay Road. They'd caught a ride part of the way on a friend's donkey cart, not returning until time for supper at twilight.
But he hadn't mentioned the Amager until this moment, well after the evening meal, more than twelve hours after the ship had stood out to sea. Tante Hannah wisely hadn't brought it up either.
She sighed. "Can't say exactly why." A gullie settled on the roof w...ith a cha-cha-chi sound, its claws scratching the palm fronds.MoreLess
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