Cannon roared. Puffs of smoke floated up again. Governor Gardelin came down the ship's ladder. He scrambled into a boat draped with flags and was rowed toward shore. In the shallows he climbed on the shoulders of two guards. But after a few steps, as one of the guards stumbled, the governor fell into the water.
He came up shouting, waving his arms, and was rowed back to his ship. I didn't see him until nearly noon. They had a horse for him now. He came up from the beach surrounded by guards, with two musicians playing. Slaves were called from the fields to stand and bow. I was invited to join them. He talked to Isaak Gronnewold, who was going to Mary Point to talk to the runaways.
The governor gave him a paper with his new laws written on it. "Read to them," he said.
"They know about the laws already," Preacher Gronnewold said. "The drums have told them."
"Be sure to tell them again," the governor said.
"I will gladly do so, sir."
"And tell Konje that if he sends his runaways back to the plantations they have foolishly fled, I will forgive them despite the law. None will be punished except for two bites each from the tongs and ten stripes. They will lose no legs or arms or their lives."
"Yes, sir." Isaak Gronnewold said.
He put the paper between the leaves of the Bible and tied it on his donkey's back. The Bible had a wood and goatskin cover. The wood was splintered and the long goat hair was worn off. He got on his donkey and started up the trail for Mary Point. I ran along beside him.
"Please give all my love to Konje," I said.
"I will do so."
"But save some for yourself."
"I will."
He stopped when we reached the gully that swooped down, then up again. He was riding a gray donkey. He liked donkeys better than horses because he liked to swing his long legs and touch the earth.
"Shall I tell Konje to come back?" he asked me.
"Konje will not come back, whatever I say."
"Do you want him to come back?"
"No. I will be with him when there's enough food at Mary Point."
Isaak Gronnewold reached out with a bony hand and grasped my shoulder. "Listen," he said, "there will never be enough food at Mary Point. The runaways only get what they steal and what the slaves give them. That will end with the new laws and the guards that will scour every hill and valley on the island, starting this very day."
I wanted to be angry with him but, though I stopped breathing at the awful thought, I knew that he spoke the truth.
As if he were a prophet speaking from the Bible, he said, "Unless Konje and his runaways give up, they shall be slain, man, woman, girl, and boy."
"Perhaps the Lord will think of a miracle, like the miracle when he parted the sea in the middle and walls of water were on both sides of the children of Israel and they went through on dry land and were saved from the Egyptians."
"The children of Israel slaved in Egypt for four hundred and thirty years before they were saved. The slaves of St. John have slaved on this island for scarcely ten years."
"Do we have to slave hundreds of years before the sea parts in the middle and we can go free?"
"I pray day and night that the sea will part much sooner. You must pray too, and ask the others to pray."
"I do pray. All the slaves pray."
"The Lord will hear us," said Isaak Gronnewold.
We came to the bottom of the gully. There was a hollow place to one side of the trail where a pool of water had collected. Grass had started to grow around the edges. The donkey veered from the trail and began to graze.
Preacher Gronnewold pulled on the halter, but the donkey went on eating. He spoke to it, saying gentle words from the Bible. He sometimes spoke to the birds and animals as if they were people.
The beast went on cropping the grass. Preacher Gronnewold explained that they had miles to go and work to do. The beast pricked up its ears and listened but went on eating. I also had work to do.
"My friend," Preacher Gronnewold said to the donkey, "if you move on, I'll read from Exodus, your favorite part of the Bible. You can eat the rest of the grass when we return."
I searched around, as he kept up this conversation, and found a branch from a dead tree. With it I gave the beast a good whack, which sent them on their way.
"Give my love to Konje," I shouted again.
He didn't answer, but raised the Bible and waved. His legs were flying. It looked like a six-legged donkey plunging up the trail.
When I got back, running because I was late, Governor Gardelin and his red-coated guards, nearly fifty of them, were in front of the mill. He was telling the guards what he wanted that day. They were to divide into four squads, one squad going to the north, one to the south, one to the east, and one to the west.
"Stay on the regular trails, do not wander," he said. "Visit every plantation. I am giving the officer of each squad a list of my laws. Plantation owners will gather their slaves. The officer is to read to them every one of the new laws, slighting none."
The noonday sun seemed not to move in the sky. Drops of sweat formed on the governor's forehead. He stopped to rub them off.
"You are not to use your guns," he went on, "unless you are attacked, which is not likely. And you're to return to this plantation not later than Wednesday morning, this being Monday."
The guards rode off on their fine horses, straight in the saddle, laughing among themselves. They were happy, it seemed, to be leaving Governor Gardelin.