bloody from where the dead men had been cut away.
? ?Carden, is that you?? the overseer cried. ?'Cause if it is, you had better get ret ta die. Ain't no slave gonna come in on me in my home!? The overseer stood up to thrash Carden the slave but another slave, Alfred, raised his chain and laid the overseer low. Drummond lay on the ground bleedin' while Rose cried from his bed. ?Give us the keys, man,? Alfred said. He held the chain above the overseer's head and that broke him down. He took the key to the fetters from a string on his neck. And when he freed them they set on him with the loose chains and while they beat him, do you know what he said??
?Uh-uh,? little boy Socrates said to his auntie.
?He said, ?Why you killin? me? I freed your bonds.' But the slave Alfred said, ?You just dead, white man.? And he was dead even before he could hear those last words.
?And they took Rose and freed whatever slaves there was left alive in the wreck. And then they set fire to the master's home and ran out into the sugarcane fields and hid. There was twenty-two escaped slaves. Man, woman, and child. They went up into the swamplands and laid low. And after a day or two they got strong on fish and birds they slew. Small groups of white men came looking for the escaped slaves but they died and their weapons went into the hands of Alfred Africa, the leader of the runaways.
?Everywhere in the parish white folks was scared of them slaves. Bounties was put on their heads, but after the first search parties disappeared most folks were too scared to go after Alfred and his gang. But the runaways was scared too. Scared that if they ever left the swamplands and the cane they would be hunted down and killed for their sins. Because they knew that killin' was wrong. They knew that they had murdered old Drummond and Langley Whitehall, the plantation owner, and his family and men. So they stayed in the wild and went kinda crazy. They attacked white people that traveled alone and burnt down houses and fields of cane. Nobody was safe and they started to call Alfred and his gang the rascals in the cane. And it wasn't only white people that was scared. Because if Alfred's crew came up on a slave and he was too scared to go with'em then they would say that that slave was their enemy and they would kill him too.
?They called the state militia finally but they never found Alfred's crew. After a while that whole section of farmlands was abandoned because nobody felt safe. Nobody would brave the rascals in that cane. Every once in a while one of 'em would get caught though. If one of 'em got tired of the mosquitoes and gators and he wanted to leave. And if one of Alfred Africa's men was caught they'd torture him for days to find the secret of where the runaways hid. But they never found out. After a long time the attacks stopped and the plantation owners came back. But they still went with armed guards. And they set out sentries at night who had to stay at their posts even in the worst storms. Because everybody said that the soul of Alfred Africa lived in the eye of the storm and that one day he would return and burn down all the plantations everywhere in the south.?
Socrates looked up and saw the faces of Cynthia, Veronica and Chip Lowe. He was surprised because he half hoped to see his long-dead auntie Bellandra. He wondered if he had really told the story that he'd only just remembered after more than fifty years.
?It sounds like a true story, Mr. Fortlow,? Nelson Saint-Paul said.
?Yeah,? Socrates said, still partly in the trance of his memory. ?Rose, the woman that the overseer raped, was my aunt's great-grandmother. She was the only one of the escaped slaves to survive. She caught a fever and wandered away. Indians took her in and she wound up in Texas. She had a child and became an Indian but the army massacred the tribe she traveled with and she and her baby were sold as slaves. After the war she came to Indiana with her son. That's where my family is from.?
?So what you tryin' to say, Socrates?? Chip Lowe asked. ?What's that story supposed to mean??
?Depends on what part you're talking about,? Veronica Ashanti said on a cloud of blue smoke.
?What you mean by that, Ronnie?? Chip asked.
?Could be the storm or the killin', could be that they thought the killin' was sin even though they killed a sinner.? Veronica counted out each point on a different finger.
?Yeah,? Leon added. ?Or maybe that they stayed around and fought against the people who persecuted them.?
?They should'a run,? Cynthia said. ?But no doubt that Alfred Africa wanted to fight instead'a doin' somethin' right.?
?Maybe they couldn't help it,? Leon argued. ?Maybe it was like Mr. Fortlow's aunt said and they couldn't escape. That's like us. We cain't escape. We here in this land where they took our ancestors. How could you run from that??
?I don't know,? Veronica said sadly. ?But maybe Miss Lott is right when she says about men always wantin' to fight. Our men always on the edge of some kind'a war. All proud'a their muscles. I mean I like me a strong man but what good is he if he's all bleedin' an' dead.?
?Sometimes it's better to fight,? Chip Lowe put in. ?That's why we got the neighborhood watch. Sometimes you got to stand up.?
?But not like no fool,? Cynthia said. ?Not like them, uh, what you called 'em, Mr. Fortlow??
?Rascals in the cane. That's what they were called.? Socrates was happy to hear his question discussed. He didn't
