{"product_id":"ardency-isbn-9780375711619","title":"Ardency","description":"\u003cb\u003eNow in paperback, a haunting chorus of voices that tells the story of the captivity, education, language, hopes, dreams, and fight for freedom, of the African Americans abducted in the \u003ci\u003eAmistad\u003c\/i\u003e rebellion.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBased on the 1840 mutiny on board the slave ship \u003ci\u003eAmistad, Ardency\u003c\/i\u003e begins with \"Buzzard,\" a sequence of poems told in the voice of the interpreter for the captive rebels, who were jailed in New Haven. In \"Correspondence,\" we encounter the remarkable letters to John Quincy Adams and others that the captives wrote from jail. The book culminates in \"Witness,\" a libretto chanted by Cinque, the rebel leader, who yearns for his family and freedom while eloquently evoking the Amistads' conversion and life in America. As Young conjures this array of characters, interweaving the liberation cry of Negro spirituals and the indoctrinating wordplay of American primers, he delivers his signature songlike immediacy at the service of an epic built on the ironies, violence, and virtues of American history.KEVIN YOUNG is the author of six previous collections of poetry and the editor of Library of America's \u003ci\u003eJohn Berryman: Selected Poems,\u003c\/i\u003e the Everyman's Library Pocket Poets anthologies \u003ci\u003eBlue Poems\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eJazz Poems,\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eGiant Steps: The New Generation of African American Writers\u003c\/i\u003e. His book \u003ci\u003eJelly Roll\u003c\/i\u003e was a finalist for the National Book Award and the Los Angeles Times Book Prize and won the Paterson Poetry Prize, and \u003ci\u003eFor the Confederate Dead\u003c\/i\u003e he won the 2007 Quill Award for poetry. He is the recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship, and is currently the Atticus Haygood Professor of English and Creative Writing and curator of the Raymond Danowski Poetry Library at Emory University in Atlanta.Chapter 1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBook-Keeping\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLomboko, Sierra Leone\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e1. Expenses Out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCost of Tecora, a 90-ton schooner $ 3,700 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFitting out, sails, carpenter and cooper's bill 2,500 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eProvisions for crew and slaves 1,115 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWages advanced to 18 men before the mast 900 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\" \" to captain, mates, boatswain, steward, cook 440 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e200,000 cigars and 500 doubloons, cargo 10,900 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eClearance and hush-money 200 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e2. Expenses Home \u0026amp; In Havana.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCaptain's head-money, at $8 a head $ 1,746 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMate's \", Captain and Crew's wages 3,811 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGovernment officers, at $8 per head 1,736 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy commission on 217 slaves, expenses off 5,565 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eConsignee's commissions 3,873 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e217 slave dresses, at $2 each 434 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eExtra expenses of all kinds, say 1,200 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e3. Returns.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eValue of vessels at auction $ 3,950 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eProceeds of 217 slaves 77,469 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTotal returns $ 81,419 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"expenses 38,120 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNet profit $ 43,299 00\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBUZZARD.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd it came to pass at the end of forty days, that Noah opened\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe window of the ark which he had made:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd he sent forth a raven, which went forth to and fro, until\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe waters were dried up from the earth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e--Genesis 8:6-7\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eExodus\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGabriel, Escalastio, Desiderio,-in the seas beneath\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe States, names new \u0026amp; Christian fell around you\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elike the lash. Before slavery, ten suns from water open\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eas a wound, you say you belonged to nothing\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ebut home. Your back bore only spirit's teeth, scars\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethat meant manhood. Such rites of passage\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eprotected little:-with in one moon you fared\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eno better than a slaver's shifting cargo of looking\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eglasses, olives. Out of boredom or freedom\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eof movement, the crew took a poker from under bitter\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eplaintains,-carved Captain's f into Cabin Boy's shoulder.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eParched as you were, would you have sipped the rum\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u0026amp; gunpowder smeared in that wound to make sure\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eit would brand? A few mad, swollen tongues caught\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe saltwater Cabin Boy's good arm tossed. Was it\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esanity drove cousin Fu-li to edge over the casket\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eof fresh water, lend it his own throat? Catching\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehim wet-lipped, Captain's men fed home\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe whip:-even now you can hear his skin part,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecan tell how much his body was water, how much\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003espine was book, just asking to be opened, read.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCovey\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHijacked on The War Road, my birth\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ename, each sun I walked in Africa\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewas a forgetting, each step a bird\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esong gone. Three men stole me:-a boy,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ea bad dice roll, a debt traded for guns\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u0026amp; doubloons. I was to be like you, a slave\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ebowing to fields of sugar, a rebel raising\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecane,-only a man-o-war turned my slaver\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003earound, set me to work in Freetown\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ea servant. Anglicans christened me a small riot\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eof guineas,-half-Brit, half-bird, as Covey I served\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer Majesty's Buzzard, feeding off ships caught\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u0026amp; replanted, as I'd been. New World, eagle shore,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eyour abolitionists found me by counting:-one\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eversed in classics scoured the docks, parroted eta,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efili, wafura to every black face. Other hands laughed,-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eto me those words held home, meant one, two, five,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efree. From the wings I emerged:-step right up ladies\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u0026amp; Africans, feast your eyes on this Most Divine\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTwo-Tongue Man! Once Kaw-we-li, now Scavenger\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eof the Word, voice covering yours, I circle above.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMisericordia\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHavana, Cuba\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI hear you can buy a man\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethere easy as a name,-just check\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe bottoms for red, telling\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esores, examine teeth for words\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elike runaway, no. Your titles may\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ealready bring you Spanish wine, or\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003equadroons in New Orleans gambling\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehalls, but Havana holds too many\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDons \u0026amp; men named for saints to take\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esuch currency. Far off in the dark\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003econtinent, bars translate into goods,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ea man's height in cotton, even kegs\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eof rum only fit for those negro backs\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethat taste the cat. This island speaks\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eonly silver. One fifteen-dollar-a-head hand-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eshake with Governor General can turn all\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eof Africa into ladinos, slaves born in Cuba\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edecades ago. The right signature\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecan make the youngest girl nineteen,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eChristian, yours:-anything but white\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eor willing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCut-Up\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eStop me if you've heard this one\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ebefore:-on a low, long, big black\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eboat, hunger follows you like sharks\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ealong the Middle Passage. Oceans trail\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eblood \u0026amp; overboard brothers. You know\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elittle about men who live at sea,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethese white termites hoarding crumbs\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efor winters which never arrive. You\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eare the grasshopper men, locusts kept legless,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esilent. Sold. Three days from Cuba, some body\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esteals over to Celestino, the rationing potato-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eheaded Cook, asks what does this routine of chains\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003emean? The griffin looks about for his master\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u0026amp; father, then leans closer to let you in\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eon some thing. Get this:-you'll be sliced, salted\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u0026amp; canned like laughter. His finger runs slow\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eacross his neck, his body suddenly a tongue\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eeven you can understand,-a joke on no body\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ebut you. Here's a killer:-know why cannibals\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edon't eat clowns? Taste too funny. Your faces\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enever break, stay black as comedy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAdvent\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou tell me you never answer to lion\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eor boy, tho the papers have called\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eyou Jinqua, Singbe, Cinquez,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSinner. You stay cold as ever\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ein your naked cell, refusing the grey\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003erobes this Union wished you in.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI have seen enough heads read lately\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eto know yours will make even fools\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efamous, hands translating your body\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ein lectures, from podiums, where such\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ean African skull, well-formed, is seldom\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eto be seen-doubtless in other circumstances\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ean honor to his race. At sea, your masters\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003emust have dreamt that crown would buy\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethem islands. They named you Joseph, step-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efather to the Lord, slept \u0026amp; saw you bring Mary,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elaboring, on a mule. How could they have known\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eyour son across the sea whose name you confide\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003emeans God? They woke to the sounds of Xmas,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eyour cane knife opening the heads of lords\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u0026amp; mulattoes, like wisdom, molasses beneath stars.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eQuestioning\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWho among you knew the Crew\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esplit after seeing Captain's head\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003espill open? Who heard the lashings\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecome undone, or saw the gripe\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eunhooked, the lifeboat slip silent\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eover the side? While you knived\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewho saw the scar their cutter\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003emade in water, slashing a wake\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003etoward horizon, unseeable\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eshore? Who beheld the Christ\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ein your master's mouths as they watched\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe night grow arms \u0026amp; strike? Did you\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eswab the sticky deck? Count casualties\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elike the black stars drown in?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDid you expect to meet ardency,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethat wanting of wind? Who supposed\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe stern would slow, your seizing\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ebreak, or guessed your masters,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewhile you slept, sailed for Providence?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd who let your dead launch\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eoverboard, thrown like a voice?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFriendship\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDuring the mutiny your Masters must have heard\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCaptain \u0026amp; his mulatto Messboy go down the way\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esuch family should, fighting, each splash the black wax\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esealing an envelope. If it may please the court:-tho hidden\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ebehind hungry barrels, the traders still ordered that boy,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAntonio, to toss you bread \u0026amp; allegiance. You found\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eyour owners scared as stowaways on that boat baptized\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFriendship,-bound them in chains to give a taste\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eof a slave's thirst. For days the fools refused to believe\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eproperty could be so bold. It was as if the beds they'd made\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elove to, their favorite muskets, grew blue with waiting\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u0026amp; woke. Unvexed, they wrote strange script to hand\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eany ships chanced upon; you sunk such letters\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eof death, unswayed. You say you sent anchors over\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe same way, hoping to cease your drift, then turn round\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003etoward family. When your sunburnt enemy called the sea\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003etoo deep to stop, you dove down far as lungs \u0026amp; doubt allowed,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eemerged only with handfuls of blind, angelic fish. Little choice\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ebut spare the cretins to navigate by scorpion, twin:-let them\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esteer your fellowship of thieves, give them all the water\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethey please, free them from irons, only thing ever they shared.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSightings\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHaving freed yourselves you wandered\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elike a Jew:-least that's how them Spaniards\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esaw you,-liable, bloodied, \u0026amp; without Christ\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eto save. By day, under watch, the Dons\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esteered sunward; nights they reversed west\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u0026amp; lied, left your inquisitions unmoored\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eno matter what your threat. You saw\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehorizon \u0026amp; hoped it home, landed to fill\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eyour casks,-even then sensing this shore unsafe.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNosing north, hungry, you ate from the hold\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eraisins \u0026amp; jaundice \u0026amp; wine. Some ate only angels,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edied. Ships with names like lovers,-Emmeline,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBlossom-sighted \u0026amp; tried boarding your bandaged\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eship, balked at the muskets, the black you brandished.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRumors like scurvy spread:-up \u0026amp; down the coast,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCustom Collectors warn of your ghost ship,-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe Flying African. One night you spotted a halo,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecorposant, ringing the broken mast. San Elmo,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe Spaniards whispered, crossing themselves double:-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ea sign. After, in halcyon, yellowed, even you began\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eto believe,-your eyes grown wide \u0026amp; without white.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWashington\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou harbored the ship like a criminal, stole\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eashore hungry. Even eastward of Providence\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ereports had drifted of the strange spook\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eship:-most thot you pirates, skin\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe flag you never flew,-black covering skulls\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u0026amp; bones, crossed. When you signed for food,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edogs, folks drew water polite as blinds, then\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecalled the pigs. Only Green, freelance captain,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewould trade you goods. Wanted to turn you in\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eto gold,-stopped since you promised more\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eon board. While he haggled, the Washington found\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eyour ship flagless, drunk with sea moss,-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecovered in rent bags \u0026amp; one recent corpse.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLieutenant added it up:-slaves \u0026amp; a fortune\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ein salvage. He sent you to the 3-ft. hold where Cinque\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efilled his belt with gold, leapt over the side. Sank. Swam out\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eof reach, an hour, while the brig searched. Drowning\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe necklaces, surrendered himself. Reeled in, manacled,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCinque pictures the necktie party the G-men got planned,-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI shall be hanged, I think, every day,-tongue flapping\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ea weather-beaten banner, pants full of freedom, soilt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eExperiment\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLieutenant swore you in on board\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe Experiment, reading your Spanish names\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elike charges against you:-Paschal, Santaria,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSaturnio, Hipiloto. The right to remain\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eet cetera. Anything you say is in Mendi, mute\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eto them. I can only imagine \u0026amp; read what\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe Spaniards you'd saved, sworn in, said:-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThese chattel were born in Cuba, bozales bred\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eto be sold, not stolen. Recollect\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewho struck me but not the man saved me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHad no wish to kill any of them, Lieutenant,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eprevented them from killing each other. Asleep\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI saw the whole thing. Did not know how many\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edays we were out. We kept no reckoning.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSoon you Mendi will holler with speech\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eof your own, saved like a dollar\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eor a soul:-Can I get a witness? Hands\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eon stacks of Bibles, you'll plea bargain\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGod. Leaping like faith,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eO how you'll testify:-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eChariot, swing low, my, my.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGreeting\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen we meet you grip my hand\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eas you drown,-say you never knew skin\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eeven brown, could be so pale, polite.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou feel \u0026amp; fear you'll be turned in\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eside out. Jail's a far cry from those moons,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethirsting, you burnt up on ocean:-here\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edays dole sun stead of water.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBefore stolen \u0026amp; set sail I never knew\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eany hue but the one you still wear,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethat carbon some fools once tried\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003escrubbing off me at sea. I've since grown\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eused to being a shipman:-sea dog,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efirst mate, the chaste black sheep.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShed more of me than you could\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eknow. Boys, I been so long\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eupon the moors I've begun to feel\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elike one,-some poor painted Shake-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003espeare speaking tongues\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enot his own. If ever you read\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003emy mind, or palm, you'd know this\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eshade hides a hot place, eclipsed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBlackmarket\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn the square vendors hawk your tale:-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe Africans are the lions of the day,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewell-fed. Men fence colored etchings\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eof blacks opening the Captain's head.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn that market called flea, you fetch\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ea handsome fee,-ready to frame. Your names\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehit The Bowery stage before you take\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe stand, actors in cork putting on the mutiny\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eas musical:-Zemba Cingues, the savage\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enoble; Cudjo, a deformed Dumb Negro;\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe fair damsel Inez, necessary, invented.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe Black Schooner rakes in thousands\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewhile you wait captive as an audience\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eof assassins. In this market called free\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eyou cost one-shilling to see. The whole county flocks\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eto watch you at play, a flea circus somersetting\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe prison Green. Warden claims the proceeds\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efor your bail \u0026amp; newspaper reviews of jail\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ego well:-They crouch like tailors, teeth like stars\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ein inky faces, black headlines blare. No one dares\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehow you still may be sold, stolen like a scene.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTank\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe abolitionists seek to school you\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elike fish. One cell over the girls weep,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eshare their grave-narrow bed. This Jail\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCinque wants to say, is almost worst\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethan the Drink. Solitary is one tank\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewithout the think, his body\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eonly evidence. The other men unwell,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esick as home. Days later, let out with sun,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethey roll cartwheels in the yard\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eto tell they're alive. In the pen, still\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efettered, Cinque stays under surveillance\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eas if water,-the kind that gathers\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eon the brain. He's going down a third time\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ebut no one sees him wave.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWho wouldn't want to join Davey Jones,-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehe musta been black with a name\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elike that-little wonder he went overboard,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elocked up drum-tight. Still, it hushed us all\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewhen Foone followed suit:-a strong swimmer\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eby all accounts, he waded out with his weighted-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edown heart, never saw our shore again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEyetooth\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSeems like every day another curator\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eor ivied student comes to draw\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe captives like blood, render them\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ein profile,-varnished, unreadable coins.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eToday the leech doctors decide Konoma\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eisn't cannibal, that his bucked out\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u0026amp; filed teeth crave nothing besides\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEnglish. New Haven dailies report:-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eone said to belong to the man-eating\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCaronmanche tribe denies, as well\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eas we could understand, ever tasting\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehuman flesh. His quick tongue, not Mendi,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003econfuses even me. He points out diamonds\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003etattooed to his fore head, makes me know\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehe keeps many names. I exchange that\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ea specialist can pull his jaw, will rein\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehis incisors for nothing. There certainly is\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efar more destructiveness in the look\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eof his protruding mouth than caught up\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ein his brain. The one we call Nazha-u-lu\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esmiles, refuses, turns the other tooth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFindings\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBefore bed I read out the book that bares\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enews of Cinque's skull:-The captive appears\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eto have twenty-six years of age, a temperament\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esanguine and bilious; the bilious predominates.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis head is over two feet from nose's root\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eto the Meatus Auditorius, a hand's width\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eat destructiveness. Fletcher, phrenologist\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eto the Queen, hunts Cinque's head like lice,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efinding his faculties hope, esteem, firmness,-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003every large. No shrink asks me to bow like prayer\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eto search me for genus,-my smart box hidden by hair\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u0026amp; hand kerchief. Caution, combat, adhesion, order,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ephiloprogenitiveness, individuality, eventuality, causality,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esecrecy, language,-average. Better to be read badly\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eor remain undiscovered? Veneration, form, wonder,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecomparison, inhabitiveness, benevolence,-large. I fear,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eunlike Fletcher, I may never touch genius or learn\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewhat men's heads hold. Acquisition, imitation,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eideals, mirth, number, size, weight, time, tune,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecolor,-moderate, small. Could this be my fate,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003emy invisible art, to translate an opaque race?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEaster\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFather:-I regret not having\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esent word sooner. Here the Mendi\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehave begun to crack my knuckles\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ein greeting, to trust my words\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elike birds settling back on the branch\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eof my tongue,-forked, divining.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey write \u0026amp; learn things\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003equick as death. This makes me good,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ereminds me how you adopted\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u0026amp; raised me like the dead, learning me\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eto say pardon to every passing\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esoul. Still, my interpretations loom less\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enecessary daily. Every letter they send\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ea sail, drawing home near.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI fear most the waking, watching them\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eleave to discover their own sun\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u0026amp; country. My sir, must we stand\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eto bring up what deserts us? Too soon,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eit seems, I must close. May my words\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ereach you in manners I never can, crossing\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eboundless blue between. Yours, I remain,-","brand":"Knopf","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300652372197,"sku":"NP9780375711619","price":27.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780375711619.jpg?v=1767721747","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/ardency-isbn-9780375711619","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}