Page 47 of A Fire in Their Hearts

W ITH OUR HANDS AND LEGS chained, Joseph and I are dragged through the Drummond plantation by the men hired to find us.

They kick us if we fall or think we’re not stumbling along fast enough, or they kick us just because they can.

In the distance I see a large group standing near the punishment post, but as we get nearer I realise that’s not what they’re gathered around. It’s the hanging tree.

Two ropes have been thrown over the killing branch, one end of each tied to a stake in the ground while the nooses swing gently above two benches.

It looks as though everyone has gathered.

The faces of all the people I know watch on with horror as Joseph and I are thrown down harshly to the ground in front of them. There’s no sign of Calum.

Drummond stands in his pulpit, which has been moved from its usual place. He waits until the men who have brought us back walk to one side, while we get on to our knees to listen.

‘Thank you, gentlemen. You have carried out your duty efficiently as ever. It pains me greatly to destroy my own property. Why would any sane man wish to do such a thing? I tell you it’s because they have no choice. I have no choice with runaways who are disloyal to their master.

‘I take care of you .?.?. slaves and servants .?.?. providing food, shelter and clothing, aid when you’re sick.

Yet these two repay my kindness by putting me to great inconvenience and cost, while you have had to do more work because they have cast off their responsibilities.

All it’s done is lead them to the end of a rope. Gentlemen, I ask that you continue.’

Findlay and Hunter move quickly, lifting up Joseph and dragging him to a bench. They’re powerfully built and he has no way of preventing them.

‘Master, I beg you, don’t hurt him,’ I plead. ‘We’re sorry for what we’ve done.’

They manhandle Joseph to the bench and put the noose around his neck, then they lift him on to it while McKinnon reties the rope to the stake so there is almost no slack.

Abraham once told me that the drop is short so there is little chance of it breaking someone’s neck.

Instead, people die slowly by strangulation.

I can’t watch but McKinnon comes over and roughly takes hold of my head, putting a hand under my chin and forcing me to look up.

‘No you don’t! You see everything that’s going to happen to you in a few minutes’ time, when he’s stopped gurgling, pissing himself and twitching.’

He’s squeezing my jaw so fiercely that I can’t even speak and can only moan in despair as I’m forced to see Joseph murdered. Findlay steps away and Joseph is left standing precariously on the unstable bench, shaking but silent.

‘This man could have lived,’ says Drummond. ‘He could have continued to share meals with you and enjoy your company. This is his doing, not mine. I don’t want this. Carry on.’

Hunter puts a foot against the bench, hesitates a moment, then kicks it away.

Joseph jerks to a sickening stop, then he’s frantically twisting and turning in a futile attempt to suck air into his lungs.

The hangman’s jig, they call it; and there can’t be a more horrifying sight.

People around me cry and shout out his name but no one tries to help. Everyone is paralysed by fear.

Joseph’s handsome face quickly becomes unrecognisable as his bulging eyes and discoloured tongue stick out from a head that looks as if it’s about to explode.

Gradually, his movements become less violent until they are little more than occasional twitches, then nothing.

He hangs limply while we watch on. A few women sob but otherwise the silence is like a cloak that’s smothered us in despair. His face is hideous.

Something in my brain has blocked the realisation that this is what’s about to happen to me. It’s too horrifying to comprehend. Then Drummond speaks.

‘This pains me greatly, Violet, but justice must be done.’

McKinnon lifts me off the ground and I’m overwhelmed with a terror that goes beyond anything I’ve ever known.

‘No .?.?. no .?.?. no .?.?. no! Please, master. I’ll do anything you ask. Anything .’ I’m dragged to the hanging branch. ‘I’m begging you. I promise I’ll be good.’

‘Too late, Violet,’ he says. ‘I’ll miss you.’

The noose is placed around my neck and I’m lifted on to the bench.

‘NO, MASTER! I’ll do whatever you want. Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it. Please. Anything. Not this! Not this!’ My legs buckle.

‘Stand straight,’ orders McKinnon harshly.

I’ve soiled my breeches. Joseph’s body swings around slowly in the breeze, the only remnant of the hurricane. His grotesque eyes stare at me from a few feet away, his pointing tongue an obscene object .?.?. accusing.

I’m going to look like that.

‘Noooo!’

‘Do your duty, Mister McKinnon.’

Hunter steps away as McKinnon places his foot against the bench and looks up at Drummond. I’ve gone to a place so beyond fear, and I’m screaming, screaming, screaming—

‘Do your Christian duty.’

He kicks it away.