June 12th, 1776
Everywhere, the depredations of sickness; nowhere, even within our skulls, is there ease. The Regiment does not rest upon this island.
This hour I have gone to the east side of the island with Charles and Bono to watch the celebration of the funeral games; three were to be buried. Tonight, however, there was a mood of danger there. We found men guarding the dance jealously. Private Morris debarred our passage with his arm.
Isaac the Joiner stood watching the group of them. “They are raising demons,” he said.
We stood by him and observed. The crowd was small and selected of the greatest enthusiasts among the Regiment; they played upon cookware.
Then I heard great cries, and I saw that two danced and shuddered in the midst of them, throwing out their limbs, calling, and hissing; one of these rapt individuals was Better Joe, in a mask he had fashioned out of cloth, crying as if the god were upon him.
“They made a drink,” said Isaac. “Some recipe out of blood and dirt dug from the graves. They’re swallowing it.” He put his hand over his elbow and said, “It’s the sport of idolatry. A new covenant with their damnable gods. To reverse the crippling enchantments of Europe with their deviltry. To defeat the magical power of the white man.” He looked down. “And I can’t blame them,” he said. “I cannot blame them.”
I watched Better Joe’s gyrations in the mask, while all around him stood back and watched his hissing. I saw potency there, and eternity.
Isaac closed his eyes and muttered, “By the power that is within me, in the name of the Lord Jesus, I ask, Lord, I ask that this wicked spirit be cast out, that Satan’s work be confounded, that this unfortunate Africk energumen be freed from the shackles of diabolatry as he was of slavery.”
Better Joe looked out into the night — with a great commanding croak, pointed at Charles, and through the crush of devotees, bid him approach. He waved with his old arms and spake in the language of the Ibo.
Charles frowned and turned away; he walked back along the path we came upon. Bono and I rushed to follow.
Bono said, “If these incantations move them to fight better against the rebel, I can welcome it. But if they take up arms against our own officers, I am telling you true, there will be a sure work of cruelty, for we ain’t no equals to the regulars, and they won’t recognize no distinction between us if there’s a revolt.”
Charles did not speak to him in return.
Near the farms, some piles were burning.