"Good." Winston motioned them forward.
As he led them down the trail, Katherine at his side, he felt a tug at his sleeve and turned to see Atiba.
"I think we will not be going with you, my friend." The Yoruba was grim. "Dara says if there is to be a war against the Ingles branco here, then we must join it. This time I believe a woman's counsel is wise."
"You'd get tangled up in this fray?"
"It could be a damnable long war, I think. Perhaps much years. But I would meet these free people of my blood, these Maroons."
"But we're going to take the harbor here. You could . . ."
"I am not a man of the sea, my friend. My people are of the forest. That is what I know and where I want to be. And that is where I will fight the Ingles, as long as I have breath."
"Well, see you take care. This may get very bad." Winston studied him. "We're headed down to the Point. You'll always be welcome."
"Then I wish you fortune. Your path may not be easy either. These damnable Ingles may try to come and take it away from you."
"If they do, then they don't know what a battle is. We're going to make a free place here yet. And mark it, there'll come a day when slaveholders like Briggs will be a blot on the name of England and the Americas. All anybody will want to remember from these times will be the buccaneers."