Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [87]
“Of course not, señora.”
“If the slaves hear about the rebellions,” Ramón insisted, “they—”
“I will keep things under control,” Severo said. “No further travel passes. More guards at night.”
“And if they’ve already heard about the Bando Negro,” Ana said, “we’d best let them know we’re aware there was trouble elsewhere.”
“I agree, señora.”
“Don’t read the preamble, only the provisions and punishments, and let them know that they will be enforced.”
“Very good, señora.”
Ramón watched his wife and Severo speaking rapidly to each other, making decisions as if he weren’t there. For an instant he saw a softening in Ana’s features when she looked at Severo, and Severo’s own recognition of that look, but the moment was so fleeting that Ramón doubted what he’d seen.
The batey bell rang four times, paused, clanged four, paused, clanged three. There was a longer pause and the series was repeated as the workers and foremen came from their duties to assemble in front of the barracks. Ramón took Miguel into his bedroom on the other side of the house. Ana closed the windows and doors facing the batey but left one shutter ajar. The opening was large enough for her to see through, but no one could see her.
Although they weren’t lined up in any specific order, Severo’s slaves huddled together in one group, while those owned by the hacienda stood in another. Siña Damita came to the threshold of the bohío that served as an infirmary and stood there, scowling and violently chewing the inside of her lips. Three of the foremen were mulatto freemen who lived with their families in cottages on the other side of the plantain patch. The fourth, a liberto married to a white campesina, lived in a bohío at the edge of the west pasture. Slaves or free, everyone looked worried. It appeared to Ana that they expected this news.
“I know that you’ve heard about trouble in other places,” Severo said as if talking to them about the weather. “But this is Puerto Rico, and we’re all subjects of Her Majesty Isabel II, may God keep her. You must obey the laws here regardless what other countries or governments do.”
One by one, Severo read the nineteen articles of the Bando Negro, waiting a few moments after each so that everyone could understand what it contained. “A black or person of color who threatens a blanco in word or in deed, shall be put to death if a slave, and if free, will lose the right hand.”
From her perch over the batey, Ana could see only the backs of the men and women who stood, heads bowed and still. The foremen shifted in their places. Until then, slave codes hadn’t applied to free gente de color, but now, because the foremen were not blanco, they were bound by the provisions of the Bando Negro.
When at last he finished reading the proclamations, Severo dismissed everyone to their duties. Ana watched as Siña Damita crossed the batey to her mule tied to the post. The solid, dignified woman now slumped her shoulders as she walked.
Over the next few days, Ana felt just as she had in the days following Inocente’s murder. Everyone was nervous and avoided behavior that in any way could be interpreted as aggression, a threat, or disrespect. Even the children were subdued and constantly shooed by their elders. The distrust on both sides was as palpable as the mist following a July afternoon rain shower. Flora was somber and quiet. While she bathed Ana, she was as attentive as usual, but she didn’t sing, although she’d once told Ana that even in their grief her people sang. Ana knew that asking Flora to sing would be interpreted only as another order. She couldn’t bring herself to demand more from her.
Travel passes were suspended, so Damita’s family couldn’t spend Sundays with her. Instead, Severo allowed her to spend the afternoon with them at the hacienda. She brought food for her daughters-in-law and always had more than enough to share with others. Sundays were more relaxed at the hacienda because Severo wasn’t around. In the morning after chores, the workers assembled