"He belongs to Briggs." He glanced back. "Same as you do. There's nothing I can do about it. Right now, I doubt good master Briggs is of a mind to do anything but hang him."
"Then if his life has no value to anyone here, take him as a free man."
A web of white laced across the thunderhead. In its light he could just make out the tall masts of the Defiance, waving against the dark sky like emblems of freedom.
God damn you, Benjamin Briggs. God damn your island of slaveholders.
"Where is he?"
"Derin has hidden him, not too far from here. When Atiba fainted from the loss of blood, he brought him up there." She turned and pointed toward the dark bulk of the island. "In a grove of trees where the branco could not find him. Then he came to me for help."
"Who's this Derin?"
"One of the Yoruba men who was with him."
"Where're the others? There must've been a dozen or so over at Oistins this morning."
"Some were killed near there. The others were captured. Derin told me they were attacked by the militia. Atiba only escaped because he fainted and Derin carried him to safety. The others stayed to fight, to save him, and they were taken."