Some call me Altamaha-ha, after the brackish river I haunt. Others call me Mama Tunde, imagining me as some sea-dwelling surrogate mother to call to when their earthly mama falls short. Some call me the Queen of Salt, for they have heard that I’m only drawn to the surface when tears hit my waters. I’ve been called a mermaid, a naiad, a sea witch, a hag, a siren. If someone were to ask, though no one does, I prefer to be called Yetunde.
My river separates Fort Frederica from the Swamp King’s island, where a wealthy duke came and built a huge plantation with many fields and many slaves. But the duke and his family couldn’t stand the heat, the smell, or the mosquitos. The duke’s daughters fell ill, his…