Chapter Five
Reports
We are in coffle, knelt back on our heels. The only sound is the chain, which occasionally tinkles between our collars. Our hands are tied behind us, a few new slaves who are not trustworthy with their voices, are gagged. All our eyes are wide, wide open. If they weren’t, I’m sure we’d be fitted with devices to keep them that way.
Each day all the slaves have been marched into this, the largest of the dungeons. There’re fifteen of us and we line up against two of the walls. Heavy equipment sits against the other two but there is still plenty of space for people to walk around the portable whipping post in the middle of the room.
The procession into the dungeon is always the same; first the slaves, led by Ms. Lynn, then Mr. Palmer takes his position on the left side
