Condition: New. Brand New!. Seller Inventory VIB Items related to Slaves who love their chains shall remain in their Slaves who love their chains shall remain in their bondage. Publisher: Mountain of Fire and Miracles Ministries , This specific ISBN edition is currently not available.
View all copies of this ISBN edition:. Synopsis Spiritual chains are terrible things. Buy New Learn more about this copy. Customers who bought this item also bought. Come now, Anne. As the Locktons made their way through the crowded room, Mr.
Robert dropped the heavy coins into a worn velvet bag. The thudding sound they made as they fell to the bottom reminded me of clods of dirt raining down on a fresh coffin. Ruth put her arm around my waist and leaned against me. I spent most of the voyage bent double over a puke bucket, bringing up every scrap of food and swallow of brackish water I choked down.
Ruth stood on a box looking out of a porthole, counting seagulls and waves in a whisper that could barely be heard over the creaking of the hull. The seas calmed late on the second night, and I was able to walk a bit. Ruth was sound asleep in our hammock, thumb in her mouth. The hatchway to the deck was open and tempting. I climbed up the ladder slowly.
The fat moon lit the water like a lantern over a looking glass. A clean, cold breeze blew from the north, pushing the ship so fast across the sea we seemed to fly. I sat on a crate facing the back end of the ship and hugged my knees to my chest. A mist of salty spray hung in the air. The coastline of Rhode Island had long disappeared into darkness. I could not see where we came from or where we were going. Maybe the ship would spring a leak and sink. Maybe we would be blown off course and land in a country without New York or people who bought and sold children. Maybe the wind would blow us in circles until the end of our days.
I wiped the mist from my face. When Poppa was stolen from Guinea, he said the ancestors howled and raged and sent a thunderstorm to turn the ship back around, but it was too late.
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They kept moving us over the water, stealing us away from our ghosts and our ancestors, who cried salty rivers into the sand. I picked out the worms and tossed them through the porthole, then gave the biscuits to Ruth. A fellow missing most of his teeth stuck his head down the hatchway and waved us over to the ladder. We climbed up, shading our eyes against the bright light of day. Men of all types and colors swarmed the deck, carrying casks and chests down the gangplank, scurrying up the rigging to tend to the sails, unloading gear, loading gear, and making me feel very small and in the way.
Ruth stood at my side and stared so hard, her thumb fell out of her mouth. The ship was tied up at a long dock, one of many that jutted into the river. The sun sparkled off the water so strong I had to shade my eyes. Tall houses of brick and stone faced us, with rows upon rows of windows looking down at the street.
They reached higher than the oldest trees back home.
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There were smaller buildings, too, all crowded shoulder to shoulder, with no room for a feather to pass betwixt them. We had arrived soon after a heavy rain. Soldiers splashed through the glittering puddles, toting wood, emptying wagons, carrying buckets hither and fro, and standing about on corners conversating with each other. Some wore uniforms and carried long muskets. Others, in homespun clothes, dragged fence posts to a barricade. There were ordinary people, too; maids with baskets over their arms moving into and out of the shops and cart men pushing their barrows over the cobblestones, calling out to each other and yelling at the dogs in their way.
The working people were dressed muchly as we did out in the country, but there were a few gentry who stuck out of the crowd like peacocks wandering in the chicken pen. Some of the working folk were black. In truth, I had never seen so many of us in one place, not even at burials. A wagon drawn by two thick-necked horses stopped just beyond the end of the dock.
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Not far behind it came a beautiful carriage drawn by two pale gold stallions and driven by a stout man in livery with a three-cornered hat on his head. He clucked to the horses to walk on until he stopped behind the first wagon. He laughed as he walked down the swaying plank. As I stepped onto the solid dock, I stumbled.
A soldier at the end of the dock picked up his musket and stopped the two men carrying the walnut chest. There was a brief argument, then the sailors returned, still carrying their burden. They will not be inspected by anyone. I do not permit it. We must be accommodating. A round, short man rolled off it and bustled up to the Locktons. Oh, double-blast. Look there: Bellingham. He was followed by a thin fellow carrying a book near as big as Ruth. Behind him walked a slave boy about my height, whose arms were weighted down with a wooden contraption and a small case with a rope handle.
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The boy wore a floppy red hat, his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, the blue breeches of a sailor, and a pair of dusty boots. You should have waited. Ruth and me followed a few steps behind, little mice trailing behind dogs that were fixing to fight. The boy in the red hat set down the case and fiddled 2 9. It was actually two strange wooden things: a folding desk and a small stool. After he set up both of them, the thin fellow laid the book on the desk, opened it to a blank page, and perched on the rickety stool. The boy opened the case and took out a bottle of ink and a quill, which he set next to the book.
He closed and latched the case, then stepped back and put his hands behind his back, eyes ahead like he was a soldier too. You know how she hates the cold. Several of the dockworkers put down their burdens and stood up straight. Search my crates. If you wish, search the entire ship. You 3 0. Those yellowbellied cowards have sailed for Canada.
He lowered his voice. The air had suddenly grown warm. I glanced sideways. The soldiers guarding the crates had picked up their guns. The clerk at the desk was the only one who seemed unrattled. He opened the ink bottle, dipped his pen, and scratched something across a blank page. I caught the boy behind the clerk sparing a quick look at Ruth and me.
His eyes were dark gray, the color of the sea during a storm. Shall I be at liberty from the improper meddling of your Committee? My wife is exhausted and needs me to accompany her home. Charles will stay and supervise. Lockton motioned with his elbow again.
Madam refused to move. It was one thing for a gentleman to threaten another with arrest. Bellingham cleared his throat and stood up straight. Perhaps you lack the proper authority. Bellingham write to his Congress in Philadelphia. If they give permission for common soldiers to rifle through my personal goods, then I will surrender. I shall guard my dignity day and night. Lockton pinched the space where his nose met his forehead. The soldiers studied the tips of their boots.
Bellingham muttered something impolite, and the boy standing behind the clerk fought hard not to smile. My own lips twitched. A woman defending her But Ruth did. She giggled, a sound like a small silver bell. A bell tolling disaster. Madam Lockton flew off the chest and pointed her finger at us. Lightning struck from a blue sky; Madam slapped my face so hard it near threw me to the ground. The sound echoed off the stone-faced buildings. Ruth grabbed at my skirts and helped me stand straight again. She was confused but kept her mouth closed, thank heavens. My cheek burned, but I fought back the hot tears and tried to swallow the lump in my throat.
No one had ever slapped my face like that, not once in my whole life. Better me than Ruth, better me than Ruth. Madam sat back on the wooden chest and looked calmly at her husband, as if nothing had happened. The soldiers all went about their business, one of them whistling. The only person who looked my way was the boy in the red hat. He kept his features froze in a mask, but he swallowed hard.
Lockton shrugged. I have enough battles in my own household. I was already forgotten, dismissed, though the outline of her palm and fingers still burned on my skin. For an instant, I saw myself pushing her off the I took Ruth by the hand. Madam rose gracefully. Bellingham lifted his hat as they passed. Ruth and me trailed close behind. As we approached the carriage, the driver jumped down and opened the door. Lockton helped his wife as she stepped up and settled on the padded seat. I doubt Becky has had word of our arrival yet. Or how to get home, for that matter? The boy had removed his red hat and bowed politely.
My master needs me to fetch new quills up Vandewater Street. I could show your girl the way. The driver spoke gently to Ruth and took her by the hand to meet the horses. She giggled and went eagerly. She worries about her sister a lot, as she is parted from her and not allowed to see her. Her husband, Elihu Lockton is reasonable but not the best person. She forces Isabel to do so much work as a slave, which she has the right to make her do, that she is always busy.
Madam is not a very nice person to begin with, and she does not give her slaves good healthy living conditions at all. Madam effects a lot of what Isabel does and her emotions, and also punishes her like when Isabel got a brand on her face. Ruth: Ruth is the younger sister of Isabel, being 8 years old and a slave all of her life. She has seizures occasionally and many people think she is possessed. She is worked very hard for a small kid slave and is usually a very quiet girl.
Ruth gives Isabel a purpose and a speck of love and family left in her life. Curzon: Curzon is an important character that appears about halfway through the book, he is the slave of rebel Mr. Bellingham and is treated fairly. He is around the age of Isabel and they share secrets of spy information that Isabel obtians. After joining the rebel army he is imprisoned shortly before Isabel takes him to escape New York.
He goes with Isabel on a journey to freedom and to find Isabel's sister Ruth. Lady Seymour: Lady Seymour doesn't drive the story a whole lot, but she looks out for Isabel and tries to help her. She is mentioned many times in the story and appears again almost every chapter. She Elihu Locktons aunt, and arch nemesis of Madam Lockton. Symbols: This book has many objects and ideas that represent different thoughts or ideas, so here are two different important symbols in the book that are fairly recognizable.
In this story the slave Isabel goes through a lot and is sometimes too much for what she should have to handle. When the hat is mentioned the reader knows it has to be Curzon, and throughout the story it is used to show that. Isabel lived on a farm as a slave in Rhode island, but was moved to New York with new owners. Rising Action: Isabel overhears a secret plan to bribe rebels into loyalist with money, and starts being a spy for the local rebels.
This was a huge risk since Isabel had loyalist owners. Climax: Madam Lockton, Isabel's owner found out Isabel was feeding the prisoners and hit her boiling point.
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She got very mad at Isabel for helping rebels, and locked her into a potato bin, also threatening to sell her and her sister. Falling Action: Isabel escapes the potato bin and decides to get away from New York and flee to where her sister lives. She gets a map and food with a plan and actual pursues her dream of escape. Resolution: After fetching Curzon, Isabel makes it all the way to New Jersey across the river jordan with curzon to freedom.
She successfully escapes and makes it to freedom, which leads to another book so the reader can find out what happens next. Themes: In stories, they usually have a theme or two. Here are two simple themes found in the chains book. Theme 1: The first theme is about slavery.
Related Stars in Chains, Book 1: Slave
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