ADAMA IGBO continued...
By Sheila M. Curtin

     The next morning the toubob came again to take the dead, bringing the wagon with the slop they served for food. Adama was still unable to swallow the slop, it smelled even worse than the hold itself, and she was becoming weak and dehydrated from the lack of food and water.
     A day and a night passed and again the toubob came down into the hold, again they forced Adama and others up to the top deck to be bathed and exercised, and this time she saw the woman she'd been shackled to when the toubob had devastated her town. She wanted to get closer to the woman, to sit with her and find some comfort in the company of someone she recognized, but some of the crewmen had surrounded the woman and were mauling her, laughing, pulling at her breasts and forcing their hands between her legs. She was growing exhausted from her efforts, spinning this way and that, trying to keep their hands away from her body. Suddenly, the woman leaned forward and grabbed one of her attacker's face in her hands. He smiled and pursed his lips as if to receive a kiss but instead she took his nose in her mouth and bit it off completely, spitting it back into his face. As he grabbed his mauled face his companions rushed to help him, and with the crew so distracted, the woman broke away and ran over to the side of the ship, and calling out to her ancestors and the family she would never again see, flung herself overboard, to drown and die with dignity in the peace and comfort of the waves below.
     Her actions caused others to try to escape also, and before the toubob were able to force their captives back down into the fetid bowels of the ship's hold three more had escaped over the side and joined their ancestors beneath the white crested waves.
     Night fell and Adama lay prone on the rough wooden planks, shackled between a Yoruba woman and an Igbo man, who began to speak to her of his town and his wives and children. She began to tell him of her mother Nandi, and her father Mamsamba, and of their deaths defending their people from the hands of the toubob. The Yoruba woman beside them could speak only a few words of Igbo, although she understood more than she could speak, and Adama and her Igbo countryman did their best to include her in their conversation. As they spoke of their homes and the rice they had been planting, they suddenly heard a loud boom, causing the ship to shudder with great force. Voices, desperate and surprised, could be heard from top deck, along with the firing of muskets and boom of cannon. The captives within the ship's hold grew quiet as they began to hear the sounds of the battle being waged above them, and the ship shook and lurched as it was struck again and again with cannon fire. Soon sounds of water could be heard rushing in below them, and the captives grew more and more terrified, trapped between the boom of cannons and sounds of the battle above them, and the rushing waters filling the hold below them.
     After a period of intense fighting the cannon fire ceased and the ship grew strangely quiet, and after a while a different group of toubob appeared holding large rings of keys. They descended into the hold and began to shout to the captives, unlocking some of their shackles and leading them topside in small groups. Adama was unshackled and led on deck with the man and woman she had been speaking with, and as they reached the top they saw that the ship had been set ablaze. A strange group of men, a mixed group of blacks and browns and whites, were traveling back and forth amid the smoke and flames and confusion, taking both captives and what goods they could carry across planks linked to a ship which had pulled alongside. These strange men's ship bore the symbol of death, a skull sitting atop two crossed bones, and the eyeless skull grinned down upon the captives, its leer glowing from the light of the moon's reflection in the water below. Members of the toubob crew lay dead or dying upon the deck, and Adama began to understand that the men from the ship bearing the skull had defeated their captors and were in the process of looting and burning their ship.
     For the next few hours the men from the skull ship crossed back and forth, taking what booty and captives they could. Finally, the injured ship could stay afloat no longer, and before it disappeared forever beneath the waves Adama was witness to one of their strange and savage rites, this group of toubob had no intention of making captives of their adversaries, they had placed a large plank onto the side of the ship which extended some ways out over the water, and were forcing the toubob captain and what remained of his crew toward the edge, urged on by the tips of their swords. This new group of toubob cheered and laughed raucously as each of their enemies fell screaming to the waters below.
     Adama and her countrymen heard the desperate and terrified cries of the captives still shackled within the hold as the ship filled with water, and of the surviving toubob as they clung to whatever items would float and sustain them in the water as their ship sunk slowly into the ocean depths.
     The crew of the skull ship was quite different from the toubob who had first taken them captive, they were a louder and unruly and much more violent bunch, prone to outbursts of fighting among themselves. They were not only toubob, there were browns and blacks among them too, and these blacks were familiar with the languages and customs of the captives. They began speaking to the captives in words that were familiar. The skull crew was led by a tall, leathery faced, solidly built man name Triste, whom they all addressed as "yes captain." A tall, blue black man with two rings in each ear began to address the captives in Igbo, and Adama listened intently, fascinated, to the man's every word. He explained that the ship they had been on had been sunk, that they had been captured by none other than the crew of the Ascaron, and that they were now the property of Captain Triste and his crew. He continued his explanation, informing that the skull and cross bones were their colors, the mark of outlaws, to warn any and all that might cross their path what would surely be their fate, but as for the captives, they themselves would be taken and traded with the rest of the plunder at the Port of Antigua, several weeks away. Until then, they were to remain quiet and complacent and none would be harmed.
     The pirates were not as abusive toward their captives as the toubob had been, more inclined to consider the rum and gold they'd brought aboard than the women. Many of the crew believed it was bad luck to have women aboard ship at all, and so for the most part left them unmolested, preferring to wait and seek their affairs with more experienced women of the taverns and brothels they would visit at port. For the crew of the Ascaron the Code applied even to captive women, and was enforced and adhered to for fear of angering the gods of the sea, for the Code did warn, explicitly, ... if at any time you meet with a prudent Woman, that Man that offers to meddle with her, without her Consent, shall suffer present Death.
     The captives were not held in the bowels of the ship but rather allowed to roam topside, and were employed from time to time assisting the crew with their duties cleaning and maintaining the ship. Some were trained in the duties of crewmembers who had been lost or injured in battle or had succumbed to the dankness of the wooden vessel. When the captives were fed they were given yam mush mixed with scraps of fat, a better meal than the slop they were forced to eat at the hands of the toubob. Adama ate the yam mush heartily, and as the days passed she slowly began to regain her strength.
     She had been assigned a job in the kitchen helping prepare meals for the crew, and had taken to the habit of remaining topside in the early evenings, after passing the dinner out to the crew, listening to the harsh banter of the buccaneers and watching the giant fish that would occasionally appear beneath the translucent waves. Occasionally she would meet Captain Triste, walking thoughtfully with his head bowed, as if carrying a great weight upon his shoulders. He would sometimes see her watching the great fish, and he would point at them and tell her their names.
     Early one evening as she stood at the side of the ship watching a school of dolphins at play, she spied the mast of another great ship in the distance, flying the colors of the toubob flag and advancing toward them with great speed. The sight of the ship made her sick with terror, and she ran to one of the crewmen, grabbing him by one hand and pointing with the other to the ship now fully visible across the water. He ran below deck to advise Captain Triste, who immediately arrived topside, grasping the ship's side until his knuckles turned white. He began to bark orders, harrying the crew to their tasks, as he stood considering the toubob ship while it turned and began to bear down upon them. The crew began to rush above and below deck to their captain's orders, readying their cannons and weapons. Some of the crew began leading the captives below deck, locking them within to prevent their taking advantage of the pirates as they fought. Positioned on the top deck Captain Triste studied the approaching vessel, calculating its speed and size and the number of crew she might have aboard. All things considered the vessel would carry fourteen cannon and approximately one hundred men. The Ascaron carried ten cannon with a crew now down to sixty men. He weighed his chances of taking the advancing vessel, realizing he was desperately outmanned and outgunned, knowing he had lost too many of his crew to successfully fight them with muskets and swords. It was far too late now to turn and run. There were not even enough men to man and supply the ten cannons, and to lose the battle meant hanging, or worse. He thought of the captives below, many of whom had already taken on responsibilities of lost and injured crew, and decided to make them an offer.
     Adama sat below deck with two other women who'd been taken from the toubob ship, and the three planned among themselves not to be taken alive if the toubob should prevail. They were still discussing the matter as the hatch opened and two pirates descended, the tall blue-black one that spoke Igbo and another, muscular one speaking Fulani. They informed the captives that Captain Triste was graciously making an offer to any man, woman or child who was able to accept, that any who would fight beside the crew to aid them in defeating the toubob ship would be granted all rights as a member of the crew, and a freeman on the open seas. For the captives there was no comparing their treatment at the hands of the toubob with that of the pirates, where they freely roamed the ship and were left unmolested. Many of the captives had become used to working with the crew, learning their skills at sailing and taking on duties of lost and injured crewmen both above and below deck, and many had indeed struck friendships among them, having developed a sort of affection for the pirate crew. The captives agreed one and all to join the crew of the Ascaron as they fought against the toubob ship.
     Within the hour the enemy ship had pulled alongside their vessel, and the night exploded with the sounds of cannon and musket fire. The men, women and children who had been taken by the pirates joined their captors in battle, some helping to load the cannons and some firing muskets, and still others watching for any signs of enemies trying to board ship. Again and again the boom of cannon fire was heard above the fray, with the accompanying tremble and shudder of the ship. The battle continued for hours, and the longer the battle waged the more desperate those aboard the Ascaron became, with many of the pirates and former captives lying dead or injured by the whites' musket fire and swords.
     Adama began to pray with the other captives as she carried munitions back and forth to the men fighting topside, begging the gods and the ancestors to intervene. Triste directed the attack with cannon fire, to a mark beneath the opposing vessel's water line. After taking several such hits the opposing vessel finally succumbed and it shook and lurched, pitching many of its crew into the water. The pirates continued to press their attack, battling the toubob aboard their ship throughout the night.
     As the sun began to appear on the horizon, the tide of the battle began to turn in the pirates' favor, and finally the battle-weary crew of the Ascaron began to prevail. The pirates and former captives boarded the toubob ship and after forcing what crew survived overboard, set it afire. Soon they were passing back and forth between the two decks, taking goods and gold and weapons. When they had taken all they desired, the pirates again fired their cannons into the ship's hull. The toubob ship began to list and sink.
     With the sinking of the toubob ship and the taking of their gold the captives had earned their freedom, and according to the pirates' Code each received a share in the booty taken from the plundered vessel. The loot was distributed equally among all, except for Captain Triste, who according to the Code was entitled to receive one full share and a half, and the officers, who received each one share and quarter. One share of gold and silver was enough for Adama to buy her freedom five times over, and according to the Code it was rightfully hers, and none on the open seas could take it from her.
     The Ascaron continued on to the Port of Antigua as intended, to trade goods for clothes and gold for food, and some of the former captives accompanied them to Port, aiming to purchase their own clothing and provisions. The pirates warned the captives not to travel too far inside the town itself, or they might find themselves taken again and enslaved upon one of the island's sugar plantations. Adama purchased what items she could close by the waterfront and rowed back out to the Ascaron, not wanting to take chances with her hard won liberty. The pirates themselves visited the numerous taverns and brothels near the waterfront, where they spent a large portion of their plunder on the attentions of women and rum.
     Adama was fascinated by what she'd learned of the pirates so far, enjoying the freedom of the open seas and the pirates' banter and camaraderie, and for the most part felt safe in their company. Now she was afforded their full protection and treated as their equal, having fought alongside them against the toubob ship. Captain Triste himself was teaching her to speak and write the toubob languages, English, French, Spanish. He was also keen to teach her to handle a sword and a musket and to defend herself against marauders, and how to live according to the pirate's Code. When the Ascaron charted course for the Port of Tripoli on the north African coast she did not make plans with the others to return to her own country, there was no one left for her to return to, her people being dead or captured, her town destroyed. She decided along with a handful of former captives to remain aboard the Ascaron, and cast her lots with the crew as they traveled across the seas, from coast to coast and port to port, pillaging and plundering, sinking vessels and plundering towns and capturing their goods and valuables. She began to practice in earnest with the cutlass, at first finding it too heavy to lift and swing but the more she practiced the quicker and more proficient she became, until she was as feared with the sword as any man might be. Soon she accompanied the crew of the Ascaron as they raided coastal villages and towns, fighting with them side by side and sword in hand, and before long began to accumulate her own share of gold and silver and other precious stones, becoming what could be considered a very wealthy woman.
     They had been at sea for four months, without stopping at port to restock their provisions, rather taking what provisions they could from ships flying colors of opposing nations. Adama sat in Triste's cabin learning how to read maps, how to chart course, manipulating the navigational instruments that Triste had shown her. Triste himself was unusually quiet and out of sorts, bent over his maps, computing the positions of various stars and charting course for the nearest safe harbor with his compass and sextant in hand. He muttered angrily to himself as he measured angles and degrees and studied his maps, his mind troubled and occupied with a storm that was fast approaching, one that he suspected the Ascaron would be unable to successfully  ride out.
     Adama looked out over the sea from the porthole, finding the waters calm and the night crystal clear. She thought to herself that Triste always worried needlessly, such a beautiful night, so warm and so quiet, such a night could bring nothing but peace. But she wisely kept her thoughts to herself. Adama left Triste to his charts and maps and went topside to enjoy a quiet stroll before retiring to her cabin for the evening. As she began her walk the wind began to pick up, slowly, at first just a gentle breeze.
     Triste ordered the crew of the Ascaron to turn the ship around in an almost 180 degree turn, back in the direction from which they'd come. At first he attempted to seek harbor in Tortuga and wait out the storm, Tortuga having the closest safe port and one in which the present governor would unquestioningly accept his bribe, but it was close to two hundred miles away, and all signs warned Triste that a massive storm was forming right above the fleeing vessel. Triste worried the ship would not be able to outrun the maelstrom, he ordered all hands on deck and began barking out his orders, demanding that the ship and all hands be tied down and readied for the impending storm. Adama watched the sea change in a matter of minutes from tranquil blue-green waves gently lapping at the hull, to what it was at present, a monster of swirling wind and water capped with giant white-topped waves, which rose to tremendous heights and came crashing down upon the deck of the Ascaron, clearing the deck of anything that wasn't tied or bolted down. If Captain Triste had not ordered his crew tied down, those above deck would have been washed overboard by the giant waves.
     Having done all possible to ensure survival of his ship and crew, Triste made his way below deck to Adama's cabin and with his hand raised to knock, paused there, frozen, unsure of how to tell her in words that which he'd told her time and time again by his actions. He watched his hand fall against her cabin door, with his knock sounding as confused and hesitant as he was. Suddenly the door swung open and he found the tip of a musket under his chin.
     Adama stood in the doorway, no longer a frightened captive girl but now a beautiful and fierce self-assured woman. As she lowered the musket from Triste's chin the glow from the lanterns within were reflected in her eyes, casting a golden hue to the ebony of her irises. Triste was lost in the depths her eyes, and overwhelmed with his desire for Adama.
     He stood in the doorway for a moment, waiting for her to invite him inside. She laughed at the notion of Triste asking for anyone's permission and bade him entry, and he entered her cabin and sat down in the chair across from her bed, avoiding her gaze by looking out the port hole at the increasing violence of the storm. She sat across from him on the side of her bed, watching him cautiously. She could read the apprehension in his eyes, and fear, fear not for himself but for his ship and crew, fear for her, and of her. The storm raged above them, its winds howling and screeching as a legion of demons, whipping the white crested waves to heights far above the ship, rocking the vessel and tossing it back and forth in the water like a child's toy. Triste bowed his head as if searching the floor for words, and finally began to speak to Adama. His voice was soft and gentle, so low Adama had to strain to hear Triste's words as he spoke to her.
     He began to confess his sins to Adama, all the wrongs he'd done in his years at sea, of the lives he'd taken and the ships and towns he'd plundered, of the many seafaring men he'd sent to a watery grave. As for Adama, she sat quietly and listened to his confession, though in her heart of hearts Triste could do no wrong. Were it not for this swarthy pirate sitting before her, she would surely be suffering the horrors and abuses of slavery on a plantation only God knows where. Triste and the crew of the Ascaron were her family now, her only family in this Godforsaken world. It was Triste who had saved her life, Triste who had given her back her freedom, taught her to handle both sword and musket, and given her a full share in all the crew's plunders. She could only feel love for the man who sat before her with his head bowed low.
     As he continued to speak to her of his many wrongs and shortcomings, Adama rose and went to him, kneeling before him and taking his hands in hers. She whispered to him how differently she saw him than he saw himself, of the good he'd done and the many kindnesses he'd afforded her, how if the gods had not sent him to capture the toubob ship, how miserable and wretched her life would be. She began to tell him of her home with the Igbo near the great Niger River, and of the people and families the toubob had destroyed. As she spoke to him he raised his head and looked in her eyes, lost again in their depths. He desired her with all his being, wanted her more than any woman he had ever known, needed to hear her moaning his name and desiring his touch. She tilted her head to kiss his cheek but instead found his lips, soft and full, and the taste of the salt upon them aroused feelings of desire that she had kept hidden, even from herself. As the heat of desire began to build between them, Triste could stand it no longer and suddenly stood up, pulling Adama to her feet and whispering her name over and over again as he pressed his lips gently against her neck.
     Adama lifted her arms to embrace him, and began to unbutton his shirt, revealing a broad chest with soft brown hair and taut muscles. Triste was unable to resist her embrace, and he found himself her captive as she took him by the hand and began to lead him toward her bed. He stopped momentarily, refusing to go any further, afraid of losing her completely if he continued, but Adama would not be denied, and as she sought his lips once more he finally gave in to his desire. In a moment he was pulling Adama close to his chest and lifting her from the floor, he carried her to her bed and lay her gently upon the coverlet. As they each began to undress the other their kisses became more passionate and intense, and when he finally entered her she shook with a passion and pleasure she had not thought possible. Soon the stormy sounds of their lovemaking could be heard above the fray of the storm raging above them.
     The storm grew more violent as the hours passed, and as the waves continued to wash across the deck the ship began to take on water. Some of the crew had lashed themselves to the mast and were frantically trying to bail the water over the ship's side, but it was a futile endeavor, the storm and the sea itself produced more water on deck than the crew could bail overboard. Triste lay in Adama's arms, knowing the ship would not survive the night, not wanting to lose the precious few hours left with the woman with whom he had finally found peace. He heard his crew calling for him on top deck and ruefully pulled himself away from the warmth of Adama's embrace. As he began pulling on his clothes Adama dressed also, preparing to fight the storm by Triste's side. She placed her sword in its scabbard and carried her musket in hand as she followed quickly in Triste's footsteps. Triste was already on top deck, holding on to whatever he could as he made his way along. Seeing Adama approaching he ordered her to get below, but she demanded he allow her to remain by his side. Suddenly the ship was lifted high into the air atop a great wave, and sent crashing to the water below. As the ship hit the water, a great cracking sound was heard, and the crew watched in horror as the Ascaron was broken in half. The bow of the ship began to rise high in the air, standing upright, and for a moment bobbed up and down in the churning seas. Seeing that the ship was lost Captain Triste ordered what remained of his crew to abandon ship, giving the dreaded command, every man for himself. The Ascaron was then swallowed by the roiling waves, disappearing forever in the depths of the murky water. Adama's eyes filled with tears as she saw her love disappear beneath the waves.
     Adama awoke some hours later, in shackles, having been captured floating in the water with those who remained of the Ascaron's crew by a passing British sloop. She searched the faces of her comrades for any sign of Triste, but none had seen him, and those who had, insisted he had gone down to the depths with the Ascaron. With the loss of her love Adama lost her desire for life, having thus far suffered the loss of every one she loved, if she suffered to love them at all. The sloop arrived in the Port of Kingston in two week's time, delivering a band of fourteen brigands to His Majesty's Court for trial and hanging.
     The last of the crew of the Ascaron were placed in waterfront barracks under heavy guard, and taken the next morning before the admiralty court. Accused of piracy and crimes committed on the open seas beyond the high water mark, against His Majesty, King of England and of all the British Isles, the group was sentenced to be hanged on the morrow.
     The morning dawned quickly, bringing with it a group of ten soldiers led by an officer carrying the Silver Oar, the symbol of the High Court of the Admiralty. Adama was led, bound together with her fellow pirates towards a platform that had been erected in the town square. The platform had a wooden bar running above it across its length, from which hung a set of fourteen gallows, one for Adama and each of her companions. The square was teeming with people, spectators, all come to see the pirates swing from the noose, all come to see a grand show. Adama watched them with unfeeling eyes, caring little for life since losing Triste to the storm.
     A chaplain appeared on the platform and began to give a sermon, exhorting the condemned to repent and confess their sins before their hanging. He seemed to address the crowd rather than the pirates themselves, referring to the group as prime examples of the degeneracy of the human soul. The crowd stood in wide-eyed wonder as they listened to the cleric, fascinated with both the pirates' appearance and descriptions of their crimes. Adama laughed as the crowd gasped each time a charge was read, remembering how she fought by Triste's side as they plundered town after town from the Port of Antigua to the Port of Tripoli. Suddenly there was a series of explosions from within the crowd, who began to scatter and run in all directions. The pirates all took off running too, mingling with the crowd and disappearing into alleyways and doorways. Adama took off also, more in response to the actions of her comrades than a desire to keep her life.
     As she reached the end of an alley she was pulled inside a doorway by a pair of coarse hands, and pushed roughly inside. There against the door stood Triste, not too much the worse for wear and still as handsome as ever. Adama gazed into his eyes unbelieving, thinking she had either lost her mind or was seeing a ghost, until she felt the hardness of Triste's body as he pulled her close and the thrill of his lips against hers.
     When night fell, he led her under cover of darkness to the waterfront, where a new ship and crew awaited his return. Adama of Igbo boarded the ship at his side, his comrade, his confidant, his wife. Together they would plunder and strike terror in the hearts of those in ports of call in all of the seven great seas, but those are tales better left to be told another time.

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