Chains

“[A]nd there was lion’s blood on the ground mixed with the dust like the very earth was bleeding […]”

Once Finch reveals his plan to sell the sisters, Isabel is transported in her memory to another time her family was on the auctioneer’s block. Knowing their family would likely be torn apart, her father decided to fight like a lion. He is savagely beaten in front of his family. The author’s use of figurative language invokes pathetic fallacy—the ascription of human emotion to inanimate objects. Though it is her father’s blood in the dust, it is as if the ground is also in pain, bleeding in the face of such dire cruelty.

“We couldn't take Momma’s shells, nor Ruth’s baby doll made of flannel bits and calico, nor the wooden bowl Poppa made for me. Nothing belonged to us.”

Possessions become a prominent symbol in the novel, particularly with Isabel. Every time she is moved to a new home, she loses more of her personal belongings and more of her dignity. By the time she is living with the Locktons during the war, she is left with only a piece of the statue and her mother’s seeds. Enslaved persons were stripped of their humanity in every way by slave owners, and the enslavers’ not allowing Isabel’s family to take heirlooms and children’s toys is one such dehumanizing aggression. 

“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.”

The brutality of chattel slavery is conveyed symbolically in the heaviness of Robert Finch’s money sack. What he sees as the closure of a business deal, Isabel feels as her own funeral. Enslaved persons often saw death as a better alternative to being sold. The uncertainty of life with new owners weighs heavy on Isabel not just for her well-being but that of her impaired sister as well. 

“I looked down. My hands were clenched into fists so tight the cords that held my bones together could be seen. I released them.”

Isabel’s anger towards her oppressor grips her entire being. At many points in the narrative, she struggles with returning the violence and lashing out at those who hold her in bondage. While this struggle was common to plenty of enslaved persons, the impulse to defend themselves was staunched as they knew it would only reap more misery upon them. The symbolic release of her clenched hands signifies Isabel’s release of the situation. Returning the violence will help neither her nor Ruth. 

“Shhhhhh!”

An imperative to be silent—the exclamation “shh”—often appears throughout the narrative. It is first used against Ruth when she becomes Madam Lockton’s personal room decoration. She is told to stand still and be quiet. It is used also at different times to remind Isabel to tamp down her fiery temper in retaliation against injustice. Here it is used by the owner of Rivington’s as he slides a revolutionary writing to Isabel. It is dangerous not only to circulate this type of material but also to encourage an enslaved person to read. The motif of silence transforms throughout the text from cruelty to self-preservation, to a quiet act of personal revolt.

“I’m the grand-father of everybody and everything.”

This scene plays directly into the theme of family. Isabel feels a kinship with the enslaved man who works the Tea Water Pump because he, like her father, has a mark on his face. The ceremonial marks were given back in their homeland as a rite of passage. She mistakenly thinks he is Curzon’s grandfather, but he tells her he is related to everyone. Because enslaved persons were often separated from their blood relations, they were forced to find family wherever they landed. All the elders thus became a grandmother and grandfather to everyone. 

“I am a bookcase, I thought, I am a piece of furniture, not a girl who will remember every word spoken in this room.”

On her first mission as a spy, Isabel finds it difficult to remain still and unemotional as Master Lockton meets with his cohorts in the library. She is surrounded by books and longs to touch them and get lost in their pages. She even labels herself as a bookshelf; the metaphor symbolizes her character’s intelligence. Her masters not only do not know that she can read, but they underestimate her intelligence and prowess. She is not just a mindless slave, and her listening ear and sharp mind will ultimately be their downfall. 

“The moon was my friend.”

Isabel feels completely alone, and the fact that she sees the moon as a friend reflects her desire for connection. She is also worked to the point of exhaustion. Only her visits to the pump provide some relief from the backbreaking household chores and incessant demands of Madam Lockton. However, her nights belong to her. In the silence and the darkness, she finds time to gather her thoughts and make plans. It is also her time to spend with Ruth. Later, the night will take on a greater significance as it is when she secretly visits the prison to help Curzon and when she will make her last trip through the city as she escapes. 

“I practiced the code over and over until it felt like a prayer in my mouth.”

The author’s use of simile highlights the symbolism of the code words “ad astra.” The phrase, as a “code” or password, has double-edged potential: Its use presents an opportunity for Isabel and Ruth to gain their freedom, but it is also fraught with danger and could lead to their demise. The idea of the words turning into a mantra—and even a prayer—symbolizes a shift in Isabel’s thinking. She no longer prays to her ancestors for help but relies on her own strength to move forward. 

“To my mind, being in the upstairs meant we were closer to God, and our prayers got there first.”

Historically, enslaved persons were often made to sit in the balcony of the church separated from the white members of the congregation. This type of segregation persisted well into the 20th century with people of color forced to drink from separate water fountains, eat at different lunch counters, and attend segregated schools. Isabel’s thoughts are a quiet resistance to this indignity. 

“I picked up a sliver of lead that lay in the street. It was fringed with gilt; my own piece of majesty.”

Isabel refuses to take sides in the revolution. She curiously watched the colonists tear down the statue of King George. The author symbolically places the protagonist in this historical event to represent her character development. Though Isabel may not truly understand the colonists’ motives, she understands her own enslaved position. She is compelled to take a small piece of the ruined statue, which will become one of her few possessions. The action represents her desire for personal liberty. 

“You are blind. They don’t want us free. They just want liberty for themselves.”

In her anger at Curzon, Isabel lashes out at his loyalty to the rebels. In many ways, she is correct. Though it is noble for Curzon to fight for Bellingham, the promise of freedom in return is a dubious one. If he survives the gruesome fighting—a low probability—it is unlikely he will be released immediately. The colonists’ motivations are purely selfish.

“I was a ghost tied to the ground, not a living soul.”

This metaphor contains many layers. Isabel has asked for help from several adults who refuse to acknowledge her plight. The rebel Colonel Regan would not help her, and now the British commander says he cannot assist her. She feels invisible—like a ghost—to everyone around her yet still chained to her situation. The image of a chained ghost creates pathos; ghosts are ethereal and, in most traditions, move about freely, yet this image conjures a ghost trapped between now and the afterlife, with no certain hope of deliverance. 

“The brand on my cheek scorched, as if the fire within me called to the fire in the air.”

This imagery highlights Isabel’s bravery and grit. After weeks of a depressive malaise brought on by the selling of Ruth and two failed escape attempts, the fire awakens something inside Isabel. She summons great courage and strength to rescue Lady Seymour from the burning home and drag them both to safety. She will not let the scar on her face label her as a coward, nor will she lay down to die. The conflagration in the city stokes her internal fire to survive back to life again.

“I was lucky. I was not killt nor burnt.”

Isabel sometimes speaks in a dialect informed by her African heritage. Enslaved persons’ languages amalgamated parts of their ancestral tongue with that of the colonial English. It is referred to as Atlantic Creole, or plantation creole. Enslaved persons in colonies to the south would have spoken a dialect called Gulla Creole.

“I had been invaded. A dim plan had hatched itself in my brainpan without my consent, and I did not much like it.”

Seeing Curzon in the horde of captured prisoners reawakens Isabel to action. She forgets her anger towards him and worries now about him starving or freezing in the prison. The author employs a military metaphor in explaining her change of mindset. She does not want to care about Curzon, but her mind is “invaded” with the idea to help him. Deep down in her heart she knows this is the right path, but it is difficult for her to summon kindness amidst all the evil that has been wrought upon her life. 

“I was miles away from celebrating like that. I tried to bury the remembery, but it kept floating to the top of my mind like a cork in a stormy sea, and foolish tears spilled over.”

The Christmas preparations at the Lockton home fill Isabel with sadness, not joy. The holidays are meant to be spent with loved ones, and she is utterly alone this season. Isabel’s simile describing her memory—“like a cork in a stormy sea”—illustrates her experience with her mental health. She tries to keep painful thoughts at bay, but they are hard to suppress, and, in this instance, they bring a rare moment of outward raw emotion from her.

“A fat candle glowed on a parlor windowsill of a house on a corner, set there to guide someone home.”

The presence of the candle in the window holds a layered meaning. For Isabel, she has no true home, and seeing this tender gesture reminds her of that sadness. Quakers also used candles in the window as a coded sign, telling enslaved persons traveling the Underground Railroad that this home was a safe place to hide on the journey. Isabel will have to follow her own internal light to safety and freedom from the chains of the Lockton home.

“Americans had good cause to overthrow their British masters, a person born to wealth was not born to rule over others, and ‘twas good and proper to fight injustice.”

It is ironic that a 13-year-old can understand the concept of justice and liberty more than the adults of her society. In just a few readings of Common Sense by Thomas Paine, Isabel understands the noble cause of the American Revolution. Her position as an enslaved person allows her to understand what it means to be oppressed by tyranny. She understands all too well what totalitarianism does to a human. Her reading of the pamphlet comes at a providential moment for her personally as she is ready to stand up to the tyranny of Madam Lockton and fight for her own freedom.

“The sun rose bright the next day, catching the icicles that hung from the eaves and jumping off the snow like a mirror. The linens pegged out on the line were froze stiff as wood and covered in a lacework of ice. The clouds scuttled away and the sun blazed, turning the yard into a garden of jewels.”

The author’s use of descriptive imagery highlights a rare moment of beauty in Isabel’s day. Madam Lockton is determined to keep Isabel busy from sunup to sundown, yet Isabel pauses for a moment to take in the wintry scene. The moment moves her to tears as she thinks of Ruth and how much she would love to dance in the icy tableau. Isabel has tried to push away the memory of her sister, but her mind will not let her. She needs the emotional release, but it is difficult to surrender to the pain.

“But they don’t tell me nuffink. Wot’s in the basket?”

The British guard at the prison has become an unlikely ally for Isabel. She displays her ability to play both sides of the revolutionary conflict to benefit herself and those for whom she cares. The author employs the use of dialect in the guard’s speech. He has the scouse accent usually found in residents of Northern England near Liverpool.

“The heavens exploded into the red glare of the rockets and white fountains of light. Curzon and I stood as if planted, amazed at the fireworks being shot off in honor of Queen Charlotte.”

Ironically, while a fireworks show in honor of the monarch rains down, Isabel and Curzon are fleeing into the night claiming their independence from their owners and this conflict. The author employs some of the same words from the “Star Spangled Banner,” what will become the new nation’s national anthem in the future. In their courageous escape, Isabel and Curzon honor no one but themselves and the true definition of liberty.

“Tongues of fog oozed across the water and curled around the bits of ice that floated past. I saw in the fog the forms of people.”

This passage presents several types of figurative language. Isabel is exhausted from her travail and the exertion of rowing. It is unclear whether she is hallucinating or actually sensing the presence of benevolent beings. The personification of the fog adds an eerie yet comforting tone to the moment, and the alliteration in the last sentence adds impact to the moment. Isabel has often called to her ancestors for help, and whether subconsciously or magically, they have arrived to guide her safely to shore.