She seemed not to hear him. Through the silence that filled the room, there suddenly came a burst of shouts from the direction of the mill.
Katherine felt fear sweep over her, and she found herself seizing Winston's arm, pulling him toward the doorway. Outside, the planters were milling about in confusion, vague shadows against the torchlight. Then she realized Atiba was trying to wrench off the harness from the necks of the two blacks tied to the sweeps of the mill, while yelling at Briggs in his African language.
She gripped Winston's arm tighter as she watched William Marlott, brandishing a heavy-bladed cane machete, move on Atiba. Then several other planters leapt out of the shadows,
grabbed his powerful shoulders, and wrestled him to the ground.
"You'd best flog him here and now." Marlott looked up, sweat running down his face. "It'll be a proper lesson to all the rest."
Briggs nodded toward several of the white indentures and in moments a rope was lashed to Atiba's wrists. Then he was yanked against the mill, his face between the wet rollers. One of the indentures brought forward a braided leather horsewhip.
Katherine turned her face away, back toward the boiling house, not wanting to see.
Serina was standing in the doorway now, staring out blankly, a shimmering moistness in her eyes.
[Chapter Four]