Read Online The Empty Hammock by Brenda Barrett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brenda Barrett
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with. I don’t know her. I don’t know why I'm here, but I do know what the future will bring. I want to help your people.”
Orocobix squeezed his eyes shut, what should he believe? She sounded so earnest and so sure of herself. He had loved her all his life, and now she was telling him she was someone else.
What cruel trick was being played on him? He remembered the times he shared with Ana, the gentle maiden, who had followed him everywhere and then he thought of the woman in front of him; determined, independent outspoken.
Could Ana change in three moons?
How did she know how to do that kiss thing last night?
He thought back to the day she woke up in the hammock, the fear in her eyes, and her ignorance of their upcoming joining.
He opened his eyes and looked at the woman he loved. “Tell me, I will listen. I may not understand, but I will listen.”
CHAPTER NINE
They landed at La Española; the island was breathtakingly beautiful as were all the others. Juan directed his men to off-load the animals that his ship, El Dragon, had carried.
Sadly, the old settlement had been raided and the men killed. He supervised the building of stables for the horses. The reluctant Spanish men complained that they were not builders and that the natives would do a better job.
That he could not argue with, and after showing the natives what to do, they finally met his requirements. The language barrier was frustrating, but they finally did his bidding, smiling as they worked.
A frustrated Colón had requested Juan’s company to go into the interior of the island to find the Chief, who was his friend. The man was badly burnt and could not come to the old settlement. They went through thick trees and even thicker brushes with their native guides.
The island was redolent with greenery, yet he could see abandoned settlements with scarred tree trunks and burnt out grounds. They obviously used the slash and burn method of farming, a terrible environmental drain.
They arrived at the new settlement where the Chief was residing and approached a square hut. It was bigger than the others and many women stood around it; some were cooking, others were braiding hair. It was a scene of domestication; the women happily greeted them, when they approached.
Inside the hut was semi-dark and Colón stood stiffly as a short native man, whose body was painted into multiple colors, hung in a hammock in the center of the hut. Five young men surrounded him, their expressions faintly hostile, he opened his arms wide in greeting. Colón awkwardly returned the greeting because he was not sure that the man was genuinely his friend anymore.
The man made hand gestures to him and even threw in a bit of Spanish in his speech.
Juan was fascinated; obviously the Chief had learned the language from the men who had been on the island before they were killed. The conversation was actually fluent enough to put Colón in a sulk, his jaw ticked with rage.
“How dare they?” He paced from one end of the hut to the other. “The filthy heathens, they killed our men.”
Juan could tell that the old chief was not pleased by the deaths of the men in the settlement by the way he wrung his hands in consternation as Colón paced.
“I thought these people were a gentle breed,” Pablo whispered to Juan as they stared at the bandaged foot of the chief that they called Guacanagari.
“Well how much gentleness can one people have when you abuse their women and work them for food?” Juan asked practically. He did not feel angry. The people must have had a reason to be so drastic in their actions. The ones they had met so far were eager to be friendly.
He went over to the chief. His short hair was tied in a thong and he had many feathers stuck in it. His intelligent eyes gleamed as Juan hung over him in the hammock.
“What happened, Chief?” Juan asked forcefully.
“They took our women,” the chief said brokenly. “Four to each man and raped them.
Orocobix squeezed his eyes shut, what should he believe? She sounded so earnest and so sure of herself. He had loved her all his life, and now she was telling him she was someone else.
What cruel trick was being played on him? He remembered the times he shared with Ana, the gentle maiden, who had followed him everywhere and then he thought of the woman in front of him; determined, independent outspoken.
Could Ana change in three moons?
How did she know how to do that kiss thing last night?
He thought back to the day she woke up in the hammock, the fear in her eyes, and her ignorance of their upcoming joining.
He opened his eyes and looked at the woman he loved. “Tell me, I will listen. I may not understand, but I will listen.”
CHAPTER NINE
They landed at La Española; the island was breathtakingly beautiful as were all the others. Juan directed his men to off-load the animals that his ship, El Dragon, had carried.
Sadly, the old settlement had been raided and the men killed. He supervised the building of stables for the horses. The reluctant Spanish men complained that they were not builders and that the natives would do a better job.
That he could not argue with, and after showing the natives what to do, they finally met his requirements. The language barrier was frustrating, but they finally did his bidding, smiling as they worked.
A frustrated Colón had requested Juan’s company to go into the interior of the island to find the Chief, who was his friend. The man was badly burnt and could not come to the old settlement. They went through thick trees and even thicker brushes with their native guides.
The island was redolent with greenery, yet he could see abandoned settlements with scarred tree trunks and burnt out grounds. They obviously used the slash and burn method of farming, a terrible environmental drain.
They arrived at the new settlement where the Chief was residing and approached a square hut. It was bigger than the others and many women stood around it; some were cooking, others were braiding hair. It was a scene of domestication; the women happily greeted them, when they approached.
Inside the hut was semi-dark and Colón stood stiffly as a short native man, whose body was painted into multiple colors, hung in a hammock in the center of the hut. Five young men surrounded him, their expressions faintly hostile, he opened his arms wide in greeting. Colón awkwardly returned the greeting because he was not sure that the man was genuinely his friend anymore.
The man made hand gestures to him and even threw in a bit of Spanish in his speech.
Juan was fascinated; obviously the Chief had learned the language from the men who had been on the island before they were killed. The conversation was actually fluent enough to put Colón in a sulk, his jaw ticked with rage.
“How dare they?” He paced from one end of the hut to the other. “The filthy heathens, they killed our men.”
Juan could tell that the old chief was not pleased by the deaths of the men in the settlement by the way he wrung his hands in consternation as Colón paced.
“I thought these people were a gentle breed,” Pablo whispered to Juan as they stared at the bandaged foot of the chief that they called Guacanagari.
“Well how much gentleness can one people have when you abuse their women and work them for food?” Juan asked practically. He did not feel angry. The people must have had a reason to be so drastic in their actions. The ones they had met so far were eager to be friendly.
He went over to the chief. His short hair was tied in a thong and he had many feathers stuck in it. His intelligent eyes gleamed as Juan hung over him in the hammock.
“What happened, Chief?” Juan asked forcefully.
“They took our women,” the chief said brokenly. “Four to each man and raped them.
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