by H D Coulter
He placed the trunk on top of the metal, wedging it between two large rusting poles. Then he stood at the side and held out his hand to help them climb up onto the small front seat. Beth went first, followed by Bea. It was a snug fit for them on the single plank of wood. The restless horse kicked up his hooves at the dry dirt, signalling his desire to move. Once Jeb himself had climbed up, he lifted his reins and then slapped them down in a short, graceful movement. There were no words, and no other gesture as the cart jerked forward.
They were now heading deep into the South, and what was more, had less than two weeks to save Sarah and Grace and make it back to this spot alive.
Chapter 35
Joshua ran towards the pier and watched, helpless in the distance, as Bea and Beth climbed the small plank to board the ship. He wanted to reach out to her from the other end of the docks, as though she would feel his arms beckoning, and understand that she needed to wait. He wanted to run after her, climb on board, and not look back, just as she was doing, as thoughtlessly brave in his actions as she had always been with hers. But the pain and confusion of her betrayal glued his feet to the spot, and he merely watched as his wife left him behind. Seconds later the ship moved weightily out of the harbour, and he felt the blood return to his hands and feet, but he didn’t know where to go, or what to do.
“Joshua?” George was trying to catch his attention. “Joshua: I just spoke to some of the St-Hélène crew. I thought they might give me a tip or two, but no one has seen Hanley these past two days, nor a black woman with a child in tow. I got some rather particular looks, though. Did you have any luck? What’s wrong, man?” George stared at Joshua, following his line of sight, and then back at his friend, confused.
“She’s... gone.”
“We will find Grace and Sarah again, I promise you.”
“No... Bea and Beth have just left, on.” Joshua gestured his hand towards the open water.
“What... what do you mean?” George patted him on the back, trying to guide him away from the pier and back down the docks toward the town.
“I have just watched them leave – she has left me.” There was a hollowness to Joshua’s voice that made the hairs on George’s arms stand on end.
“Maybe a rest and some food might do you good. Besides, we should probably get back to Bea; she and Beth will be anxious, alone at home, waiting for news.”
Joshua didn’t respond, but obediently tore his eyes away from the small ship, making its way into the bright horizon, and weaved through the bustling men meekly behind the optimistic George.
They locked the door. Joshua pulled out his key mechanically and stepped into the soundless house. He made his way over to the mantelpiece and saw the letter almost immediately.
“Bea – Beth?” George called out, racing down the steps towards the kitchen.
Joshua stared at Bea’s handwriting, fearful of the message inside. He heard George re-enter the sitting-room, held out the piece of paper in a limp hand, and sank into a nearby chair.
My dearest,
Please forgive me for leaving this letter instead of saying goodbye. Time is not on our side.
Mr Winston has just arrived at the house, and informed us that Hanley was seen leaving on his ship with Sarah and Grace yesterday evening, believed to be making his way with them to his Georgia plantation.
Beth and I, with the help of Mr Winston and his community, will leave on a private vessel in an hour and will dock in Georgia in a week.
That is all I know.
I believe that all this trouble, our losing Grace, is my fault, and so it is up to me to confront him once and for all and bring them back. I need to do all that I can to save them, however I can’t ask that of you again. This way, you can explain to Mr Goldstein we have left on a journey to visit family in the South, and we need attach no scandal to your name.
Please know that I love you more every day and I hope that love is enough, but I have always known that I cannot be someone I am not. I need my daughter back; I need Sarah back.
I feared telling you before, but when Hanley was here, he told me he wants me to come to him. Therefore, I might have to do something you won’t agree with and I can’t let that stop me, not whilst they’re in danger.
I hope you understand and I pray in a month our family will be whole again... if you will take me back. Please thank George for his help and send him Beth’s fondest regards.
I love you now and always.
Forever yours, Bea.
“Does it say where they are?” George’s fury aroused Joshua quickly from his stupor. He couldn’t find the words himself. “Is that what you saw down at the docks, staring out at sea - you saw them, didn’t you? Why didn’t you stop them?”
“I... I couldn’t.” Joshua contemplated picking up his glass from the night before from the side-table and fill it with whiskey.
“What do you mean you couldn’t – you could have tried, at least? Shouted, called to them, tried to stop the ship!”
Joshua, resisting the urge, turned round and glared at George. “And what would that have done? Bea believes I would not risk it all again for her, that I would have stopped her. What I have done and said over the past couple of days has broken our marriage. I couldn’t hold her prisoner.”
George’s voice rose further, fuelled with frustration at the thought of losing Beth. “So, instead of breaking her heart, you would have them breaking their necks?”
“George calm down.”
“It is true. This is my country. The south is a different world. God, if they manage to get to them, Hanley surely won’t let Bea escape twice – not from what you have told me. Then what will happen to Sarah, and Beth - and Grace your own child?”
“They have already left. What am I meant to do?”
“We go after them!”
Joshua let his head fall into his hands. “She is right though: if I leave, I will lose my job – and so will you. Then we will lose this house, and our only source of income...”
“Are you telling me, all this,” George flung his arms out with force, “is worth the life of your wife and child?”
“No... of course not. But how am I meant to support us all if we do bring them back unharmed?”
“Good god man, there are other jobs, more modest houses. But none of that matters. If I make arrangements – if we leave tonight, we might just stand a chance of catching them up.” George paused a moment and looked at Joshua earnestly. “I can’t lose Beth. I love her.” He gripped Joshua on the shoulder, and took his left hand by the ring-finger, raising it so that the gold band was directly in front of his face.
Images flashed into Joshua’s mind: the moment he had first seen Bea, her hair wet with sea spray at the old harbour, laughing at the nimble waves; dancing with her in her golden gown and the instant attraction he had. Their first kiss in the frosty morning air, and the perfect, inexorable sensation of knowing that there was no going back. How it had felt, months later, seeing her caught like a frightened animal in the castle cell, and seeing, despite everything, her courage to fight returning day by day, little by little. Last of all came the guilt-ridden memory of holding Grace the first time she had smiled up at him, and a wave of anger at the idea that they could take away her from him.
“I have been a fool, George.” Joshua stood up swiftly and rubbed his face vigorously. “We will leave tonight, if we can find berths to accommodate.”
“Good. I know a few ships heading south on the evening tide. I will enquire about a passage. Pack lightly and join me again at the docks by six tonight.”
JOSHUA CHANGED HIS clothes, packed his bag, and closed the door behind him without looking back. He placed Bea’s letter in his chest pocket, close to his heart, and made his way up the street, turning left at Candlemaker Row. There was one stop he needed to make before he joined George at the harbour. He stood outside the unobtrusive set of doors. He could hear voices inside as he entered as quietly as he could. It differed from what he
had imagined. He had pictured a grimy back room or a secret cellar in some sort of boarding house. Now he felt foolish as he gazed at the church-like setting, with a podium at the front and pews down the sides. I suppose it is God’s work they are doing, after all. The people in the pews glanced at him for a moment before turning their heads back to the podium and sat a little straighter as they continued to listen to their speaker. Joshua scanned the crowd for him, hoping he was here, and spotted him near the front. He flicked out his gold pocket watch, imagining the words his father would say declare about the new situation and studied the time. He didn’t have long.
“... Now, we will hear from Mrs Woodhouse from Washington, and the encouraging progress of our efforts in the capital.” It impressed Joshua at the reach these people had, but he couldn’t wait. Bracing himself, he coughed loudly. He glanced back at Mr Winston, who was now looking at him. Mr Winston tilted his head to his left and rose from his pew. Joshua followed gratefully.
“She told you then?” Mr Winston spoke in a tense, hushed voice.
They stood by the door leading into the smaller meeting room. “Do they know, what happened to Sarah? That you sent Bea after her?” Joshua tilted his head towards the congregation.
“A few do, not all. But I didn’t send anyone, Mr Mason. It was your wife’s idea to go after them. I suggested a very different plan, using my own connections. Bea was the one who wanted to go after them supported by her sister.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
“Then what are you doing here?” Mr Winston asked cautiously.
“I need to know where exactly they are going. My colleague and I will follow them to do whatever we can to turn the scales in our favour – though I will certainly admit, regarding my wife, no one is more fearless.”
Mr Winston gave Joshua a half smile in agreement. “The success of the railroad is that no one person holds knowledge of all the connections. I know where they are docking, and the name of the person collecting them. He is to take them to an inn for their first night; after that it is the extended community who will judge how best to get them close to Hanley – that is, Drayton Hall. If I give you the information, it is vital that no one else be privy to it. In the wrong hands it could have devastating results.”
Joshua laid his hand over his heart, and unbeknownst to Mr Winston, Bea’s letter. “I can easily make that promise.”
“Very well, come with me.” Mr Winston guided Joshua through the door and into the side room. The young man wondered how many times Bea, Sarah and Grace had stood in this room and held multiple sobering conversation with everyone, a hidden part of her that she had scared to share with him. All she had wanted to do was make the world a better place. Without him realising it, he had turned into his father.
Mr Winston headed over to a small desk in the corner, pulled out a piece of paper from the side, and scribbled down a couple of lines. He rolled the blotter over the top of the writing and then folded it in half before striding back to Joshua.
“I give you this, but you must promise to burn it once you have memorised the information. No one else must see it.” Mr Winston held out the piece of paper, waited for Joshua’s reply before handing it over.
“I will burn it before we leave. Thank you, Mr Winston.” Joshua placed the note next to Bea’s as the older man walked back to the far side of the room and opened a small, panelled door, gesturing for him to depart. “Bring Sarah back to me. If she is still alive, don’t leave her in the hands of that man.” For the first time Joshua realised that the man in front of him was in love. That was why he helped Bea so readily, he thought.
“Sarah means as much to our family as my daughter does; we will do everything we can to bring them back.”
He held his hand out for Mr Winston to shake. “Thank you again.” Without another word, the door behind him closed, and within moments, he was back out on the street. He slammed the door shut behind him and ran to the harbour with the leather bag in his hand.
“THERE YOU ARE! GOOD. I’ve bought us a passage on a ship heading south; they will make a stop for us. It was more money than I thought, however.” George dropped his voice as two men walked past, heading to the harbour.
“I have some money about me, don’t worry... and I found the exact dock in Georgia they plan to disembark at.” Joshua resisted touching his chest pocket in public.
“Excellent.” George patted Joshua on the back and lead him through the harbour crowd. “I understand the ship we are leaving on is faster than theirs, so it should enable us to gain some time. Follow me, it’s this way.”
Twilight was setting in as they both weaved in and out of the bustling men, heaving things into the warehouses or huddled together doing trade on the side. They continued down the entire harbour for almost twenty minutes, passing various piers until George stopped in front of one of the larger wharfs, with a tall ship standing ready to set sail.
Chapter 36
Drayton Hall, Georgia 1833
SARAH KEPT GRACE CLOSE, never leaving her sight. She had torn up part of their bedding on board ship to make a wrap, to tie Grace to her body, just as she had done with her own son so that she could work the fields when he was a baby. That way no one could steal Grace out of her arms. Hanley too had thought of everything. In the ship’s cabin were extra dresses for Grace to wear, slightly too big and some rags for Sarah to wear, resembling her former slave clothes. She tore them up determinedly and used them as nappies for Grace. He had even brought a pair of goats on board to produce milk for the child. At first Grace reacted happily enough to her new surroundings, as though it were all an adventure, but as time passed she became restless, crying at the smallest mishaps, and sleeping poorly, clearly missing her Mama and her home. The men on board hated the child’s wails, and when Hanley wasn’t looking, threw Sarah more than a few threatening gestures. But in truth, no one would dare touch Hanley’s child, not without losing their own life.
The ship came to port in Savannah, Georgia, the breeze from the sea soon giving way to the hot, muggy air of the growing city. Two carriages and two carts stood waiting for them as they disembarked; Hanley took one, whilst Sarah and Grace had another to themselves as the men, goats and other belongings were crammed onto the remaining carts. Shanty-houses along the riverbank soon gave way to larger, half-built dwellings, obviously being constructed for the rising numbers of middle-classes appearing in the city. The strange convoy made its way through the main street, then turned left, passing a large open square with a stage built in the centre. Sarah could hear a man with a deep southern accent shouting out prices and confronted with her new reality. She was a slave once more. A line of naked men and women shackled in chains, half-starved and beaten, were waiting to be sold to their new owner. There was no escape for any of them now, including herself. She leant back against the soft cotton seat and shielded Grace away from the degrading scene. But soon the city gave way to the burgeoning plantations, and she could hear the cotton pickers’ song through the open window. Their voices, despite the sufferings she had known during many an afternoon singing the words, felt somehow like home, and she sang along to them quietly, rocking Grace to the verses:
“He sits on a horse just as pretty as can be
Hoe Emma Hoe, you turn around dig a hole in the ground, Hoe Emma Hoe
He can ride on and leave me be
Hoe Emma Hoe, you turn around dig a hole in the ground, Hoe Emma Hoe
Master he be a hard, hard man
Hoe Emma Hoe, Hoe Emma Hoe.
Sell my people away from me
Hoe Emma Hoe, Hoe Emma Hoe.
Lord, send my people into Egypt land
Hoe Emma Hoe, Hoe Emma Hoe.
Lord, strike down Pharaoh and set them free
Hoe Emma Hoe, Hoe Emma Hoe, Hoe Emma Hoe.”
Soon the bell rang out to signal the end of the working day. and the land grew silent once more. They travelled through the night, but Sarah slept little.
The first glo
w of light broke through the carriage window as the birds sang out, signalling another day in the South, and a step closer to her long-delayed fate. She looked out the window and recognised the river beside them, the water that had been her road to freedom all those years ago. Which meant they were nearly there. The canopy of trees, wrapped in Spanish moss like expensive furs, framed the driveway to the grand plantation house. On the left was a blanket of cloud as far as the eyes could see, with heads popping through before disappearing. As the old foreman, his wide brim hat covering his face in shadow, strode back and forth across the field, clinging tight to his ever-faithful whip. On the opposite side was swamp land and recently ploughed fields for rice.
As the carriage came to a stop, Sarah clung to the child one last time, and bracing herself for what was about to happen next.
“Come with me.” Hanley opened the carriage door and held out his hand for Sarah.
She stepped down, but refused his hand, and followed him onto the porch of the main house, with its white walls and pillars, the only colour that mattered in the south, cotton, skin and purity.
Hanley smiled down at Grace and stroked her rosy, hot cheeks. “I am putting you and Grace in a room upstairs.” He casually pointed towards the stairs. His grin widened at Sarah’s shocked expression.
There was no mob dragging her away from the child and placing a rope around her neck? Instead, he was issuing her a room in the main house. She shook herself and sat Grace up a little in her arms. Protecting her was all she really needed to concentrate on.
An elderly, slim-framed black man, dressed in a formal suit, his head held gracefully high, marched through the open front doors.
“Good morning sir, I hope you had a pleasant journey?”
“Good morning Albert. It is certainly good to be back. This is my daughter, Miss Grace Hanley, and Jessie - you might remember her - now my daughter’s nurse. Please give her everything she needs to take care of Miss Hanley.” The master ordered, making sure his butler understood.