Ragged

Martinique 1771.

It had been a long march from the harbour up to the plantation. For three days the newly arrived slavegirls had suffered from the oppressing tropical heat, the rough shackles on their bruised limbs, and the merciless whiplashes on their bare skin. Their
meager clothes had been torn into rags by the whip, by the thorny twigs along the trail, and by men who had come at night with a few copper coins to persuade the guards to turn their eyes for a while...

Now they had reached the end of their long journey from France. In this place they would spent the rest of their miserable lives in dirt and sweat, under hard labour and the constant threat of the whip. In front of the slave quarters, Jacqueline had been separated from the others. She was led to a menacing cross of dark wood.

There was no particular reason to subject her to this corporal punishment... It was just a matter of deterrence, so as to show the new slaves what would happen to them in the case of refusal to work, escape attempt or revolt. Jacqueline was told that she would be tied to those beams and treated with all available instruments of pain for one day and one night, and that her screams of agony were to serve as a warning to all of her companions...