My Name Is Not Angelica
Scott O'Dell
Language: English
Pages: 144
ISBN: 0547406304
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Name of the Star (Shades of London, Book 1)
The Hidden Gallery (The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place, Book 2)
cookhouse, where a pig was roasting. The slaves came trooping down in a happy mood. They gathered around the fires and were given slices of the roasted pig. Then they were told to go to their huts and sleep for the rest of the after noon. They thanked the governor and went off singing. At dusk Master van Prok called them down to the cookhouse again. They gathered around as they had before, looking for more of the roasted pig. There were nine women, nine children, and twelve men. Three of the
befallen us." A fourth drum, a small one over the hills to the northeast, was talking now. Mistress Jenna asked for a drink of rum and I brought it. Kill Devil was all that we had left. She sipped it for a while. Her face brightened. Suddenly she nudged my foot and told me to pack her things. "Four dresses for daytime," she said. "Three for evening. That is all. I plan to be quiet." I caught my breath at the thought of leaving St. John. "And start packing soon," she said. "We don't know
with their cannon they'll go no farther than Maho Bay, not until the trail can be used. Which means that we have a few days to get ready for another attack." Isaak Gronnewold shook his head. "This time they'll come with more men. With more cannon and more powder. If you run them off, if you kill all of them, Governor Gardelin will send more men. He'll not stop until there's not a single runaway left on Mary Point. If by chance he fails, the King of Denmark will send a governor who will not
hard but would not eat us. The island of St. John, which was to be our home, was owned by Denmark, Master Sorensen told me. He said that it was far across the ocean, near America. He told me many things. He told me, for instance, how I would be sold to a white planter, how I should act. "The planter who buys you," he said, "will put you to work in his household or in the sugar-cane fields. In the fields, under the hot sun, slaves don't last long, perhaps a year. So show your white teeth,
the runaways found." "What will I do?" "You'll stay here until I come for you." "In a year?" "Before then." "I'll die." "You will not die. You will live and I will come for you." "When are you going?" "Tonight." He lifted me off the ground and kissed me. He put the empty barrel on his head and started down the trail. I listened until I could hear his footsteps no more. 8 At the moment when the big drum at Mary Point began to talk, the sand in the sand clock quietly ran out. I