Circa 1710: Twelve-year-old Jayvyn’s life is shattered when English slavers raid his peaceful village, killing his father and tearing him from his mother and sister. Surviving the horrors of the Middle Passage alone, he endures two brutal years of ‘seasoning’ on a Barbados sugar plantation before being sold again and transported to South Carolina. There, he is auctioned to a rice plantation owner and forced into a world where love, loss, and cruelty coexist.
Amidst oppression, Jayvyn forms bonds with fellow enslaved Africans as they navigate the brutal realities of colonial America. Over the years, he gains a profound understanding of humanity’s virtues and flaws—even confronting the limits of forgiveness. His journey is a harrowing yet inspiring testament to resilience, faith, and survival, offering readers a deeply immersive and thought-provoking historical narrative.
Excerpt
From Chapter 10 – Training Begins
Jayvyn’s ship arrived in Barbados the day before after making the Middle Passage. Before dawn on the first day, he and others are put to work, all weak and depleted from the harrowing voyage.
Jayvyn and the new arrivals stood at the beginning of the clearing, naked and shaved, men and women alike, old and young. The guards began dividing them into smaller groups. The men and larger boys were split into groups of about five each. The women, girls, and smaller boys were similarly grouped. In all, there were five groups—two of the men and three of the others. Jayvyn was included with the men, along with a few other boys around his age.
Each group was then led by a guard, along with some of the Blacks in tan clothing, to a segment of the clearing. One group of men was assigned to the area being cleared, thick with freshly fallen trees. Jayvyn’s group was brought to a place slightly inside of this.
Here they were shown what to do. Gathering some tools, the Blacks in tan clothing demonstrated by digging around stumps, prying rocks out of the ground, and working to remove the undergrowth. As they understood, the new arrivals were put into the mix.
Some joined the group removing stumps and such, while the rest gathered debris and carried it to the edge of the clearing where it was piled with other like debris—rocks with rocks, stumps with stumps, and so forth. Soon, all of the newcomers were working.
Several men stood nearby, white men with rifles along with some of the Black guards. Men carried felled trees to the area for debris. The trees were very large and required chopping into smaller pieces before they could be moved. Still, it took several men to move the large pieces, some stumbling and falling over the rough terrain as they struggled to get them down the hill. Guards stood nearby with sticks, flogging anyone who faltered or didn’t move quickly enough.
Jayvyn saw the women, girls, and smaller boys downslope from him working in the newly tilled ground, making new plantings and tending to ones already started.
All were closely supervised by the guards as well as the established slaves in tan that had been brought to instruct them. If anyone slowed, the established slaves were quick to admonish them, with harsh words and gestures, to work hard and unceasingly.
Jayvyn carried large bundles of brush, stumps, and rocks to the area for debris. His bare feet occasionally stumbled over sharp objects hidden on the jungle floor, causing him to fall. Each time, he was quickly noticed by a guard, who yelled and approached with his stick.
Jayvyn recovered as fast as he could, but a few times, the guard caught up to him. Jayvyn found himself lying in a fetal position, using his hands and arms to deflect the blows until he was let up to gather his load and resume his work. His body ached from the beatings as well as from the hard, unforgiving work in his depleted condition. Others suffered similarly if they failed to keep up the pace.
Soon, the sun was full in the sky, and the temperatures rose. It was very hot and humid in the jungle. There were many insects as well—stinging, biting insects that hovered around Jayvyn’s eyes and ears, got into his mouth and nostrils, and crawled on his skin as he fought to keep up the work and avoid the guards’ wrath.
At some point, water was brought, and the slaves were made, one at a time, to briefly stop and drink. But the break was only long enough to drink and catch their breath before being put back to work at the same unremitting pace.
Blazing hot sun and humidity caused sweat to pour into his eyes and down his face. Jayvyn felt the sting of his sweat as it passed over his freshly bruised skin, now spotted with a variety of insect bites as well.
His muscles grew numb and quivered under the weight of each new load. The rocks, varying in size, shape, and weight, were difficult to handle. They dug at his fingers and pressed into his groin as he carried them, arms fully extended. The stumps, too, were unruly in the same way, inconsistent in size and shape, and home to a variety of insects.
The dirt from the debris was constantly smeared and pressed into his body. His feet had many fine cuts from the thorns, roots, and rocks he stumbled over. The sloping ground with its uneven surface made things all the harder. It was impossible to predict where his feet would land and what the surface would be like, causing him to continuously trip.
Jayvyn’s naked body became an ever-changing array of dirt, scratches, bruises, and bites—constantly streamed with sweat.
Several of the new arrivals fell unconscious, physically unable to carry on in their condition. They were revived, if possible, with shouting, slaps, and splashes of water. They were either put right back to work, or, if they were truly incapable of continuing with the same task, moved to a lighter task.
Some were taxed beyond their limitations and couldn’t be roused. They were carried out, arms and legs limp, heads hanging, like the slaves thrown to the sharks. Jayvyn briefly wondered what would become of them.
Most stayed with their task throughout the day, only stopping for short intervals to drink water.
Dusk came, and still they worked. It had been at least twelve hours of constant hard labor. Men came with torches and lanterns to light the way, but eventually it became too dark to see well enough, and they stopped and marched back to the stockade.
Light flashed before Jayvyn’s eyes as he walked, barely able to keep moving. He wondered how he was ever able to make it through the day. There were so many moments, from early in the day, when he was certain he wouldn’t be able to last even a minute longer. Yet somehow, he’d endured far more than he ever imagined he could have. He literally felt like a walking dead person.
When they arrived back at the stockade, another tub of the same food was brought. Although it was terrible, the slaves were so depleted they had to eat anything that might give their bodies some of what was required to sustain life.
For the newly arrived slaves, the instinct to survive was all that remained. Any other of life’s impulses were luxuries that simply couldn’t be accessed. Luxuries like conscious thought, feelings, or sensations of any kind were simply beyond their remaining reserves.
Through the haze of his vision, Jayvyn passively noticed the guards eating nearby. He smelled the sweeter, more savory smells of their food but was unable to conjure any emotion about it; it just was.
He saw, too, some of those who’d fallen and been carried out that day. They were sitting against the sides of the stockade—slumped, nearly lifeless, faces slack, eyes vacant—much as the sick boys on the ship.
There wasn’t much commotion in the stockade that night. Only occasional whimpers or groans of intense discomfort—subtle sounds of shifting—worn, depleted bodies seeking positions causing the least amount of pain—until unconsciousness mercifully overcame them. Jayvyn soon followed.
The sudden, jarring foot in his side came as a brutal intrusion to the barest beginnings of much-needed rest. Jayvyn’s bloodshot eyes snapped open in the darkness. He lay bewildered by his surroundings, fighting for some kind of explanation for where he was and what he saw. Lanterns and torches flickered outside the door. Others, sleep suddenly shattered, blinked in confusion as they, too, struggled to come to terms with reality.
The guards came with more of the awful food.
It was difficult to function at all. Sleep couldn’t have been more than a few hours at best.
With great difficulty, Jayvyn ate, drank some water, and got painfully to his feet. Every part of his body was sore as he rose unsteadily. He was quickly reminded of the cuts and bruises on the bottoms of his feet.
They were given a few moments to urinate or defecate, if they could, but soon they found themselves walking out the same trail they’d left only hours ago.
Jayvyn’s head still buzzed with the remnants of his short sleep.
Moments later he found himself back at the same task he’d barely survived the day before. It was still dark, but the sky above the trees was beginning to show the first light of dawn.
Buy on Amazon Kindle | Paperback
