Daniel

by Richard Adams

  We came home and remained eight months in England. For Mr. Zachary, and for myself, they were momentous.

  When I told him that I meant to visit Lady Penelope and her husband, he replied that he was going to look up an old friend at Kelston, a village not far from Bath, and could drop me near Clepton on his way. We stayed the night at Sonning and reached Clepton early the following afternoon. Before going to see Lady Penelope, I took a fancy to look in on Mr. Hodges. Thirteen-year-old Marian opened the door to me and after telling me that her mother had gone to Bath for the afternoon, took me into the garden, where we found Mr. Hodges weeding on hands and knees.

  “Well, I never!” said he, getting to his feet and giving me a grubby hand to shake. “’Ain’t seen yer in a long time. Very near give y’up for lost. ‘Ow yer bin gettin’ on, then?”

  “All right, Mr. Hodges. How’s yourself?”

  “All right, Darkie.”

  “Black people still here?”

  “Oh, ah. But those young chaps, they goes out to work nowadays, down old Farmer Leeson’s. He seems ’appy enough with ’em. Well, they can work all right when they wants. ‘E pays ’em reasonable, mind. ’Er ladyship seen to that.”

  “And Fahdah? She still here?”

  Mr. Hodges paused a few moments.

  “That there Fahdah. You know what ,er Ladyship bin and done? She bin and made ’er a bloody parlour-maid, that’s what. And you better not say a word, ’cos accordin’ to ’er Ladyship, she’s just about the greatest what ever smashed a plate.”

  “And she’s taken to that, has she?” I asked.

  “Gor, like a cat to cream.” He paused. “Well, ’s’pose she ain’t too bad at the job. Lady Penelope’s got ’er up like a bloomin’ Queen of the May. She looks all right, I’ll give ’er that. Bit different from when she first come. Still, that wouldn’t be too ‘ard, would it?

  We chatted on for a while, and I gathered that he seemed to have no great objection to Mr. Hardwick. “Mind you, there’s times when ’e wants ’itt’n on the ’ead ’eavy ’ammer, like, but then I says nothin’ and does it the right way be’ind is back, ’see? ‘E ain’t a bad sort, all things considered.”

  As I had expected, I found Lady Penelope reading in the garden. She greeted me warmly, and I thought how well she was looking, despite the lapse of eight years. Mr. Hardwick, she said, was away in London until next day.

  She told me she was still visiting prisons, and that the almshouses she had built at Guildford were happily filled with deserving cases. I told her at some length about Sierra Leone and our problems with the Settlers. I told, too, of the wicked harm done by the French sailors and of Mr. Zachary’s heroism as Governor during the exhausting task of reconstruction.

  After a time the sun clouded over and the garden became a little chilly. She led the way into the drawing-room and as we sat down said that she thought a fire would be nice. That being her inclination, I agreed with her.

  She rang the bell, which was answered by Fahdah. As she came in I felt an involuntary tremor. Her dress, as a parlour-maid, was entirely correct yet neither black nor brown, but a clear pink which complemented perfectly her African skin. Her appearance – her whole demeanour – had changed so much for the better that she seemed almost a different person, unrecognisable as Grench’s wretched victim who could not even sleep in peace. Her face had lost altogether its former look of apprehension and disquiet. A happy self-assurance informed her whole bearing. The hollow cheeks were gone and it seemed to me that even her lips were fuller. Her skin, which had been sallow and blemished, was smooth as dark satin. Her very step had altered. It dawned on me that I was seeing the real Fahdah for the first time. This was how she was meant to look, beyond argument a beautiful girl.

  I sprang up, shook her hand and kissed her on the cheek. She smiled and her eyes met mine with friendly confidence. No words passed between us but for me it was more than enough to see her so wonderfully improved.

  She lit the fire and then, at Lady Penelope’s bidding, left to bring us a pot of tea. Soon after, Lady Penelope having told me that I was welcome to stay for as long as I liked, I thanked her and went downstairs to report myself to Mr. Graydon and Mrs. Beddoes. I certainly meant to stay, but I was not going to impose myself further on her ladyship.

  I joined the servants for the evening meal. Of course, Paul and I greeted each other warmly, and in response to Mrs. Beddoes’ request, I once more gave an account of my work in Sierra Leone under Mr. Zachary, emphasising his heroic courage and resolve in all the work of restoration necessitated by the French. When I said that if he meant to return to Sierra Leone I should certainly go with him, some of them pressed me to think better of it, stressing the danger from hostile Africans and the risk of fatal disease. I explained that my motive was to play my part in the struggle against the Slave Trade, but then, just to please them, I said I would think it over.

  Throughout the meal and the conversation, I remained involuntarily aware of Fahdah listening intently but saying very little. When we were speaking of the Slave Trade, she unexpectedly interjected that anything I could do to help to bring about its destruction would be entirely right. During the talk I had gained the impression that by no means all the servants had given much thought to the Slave Trade or felt consciously opposed to it. Fahdah, however, had plainly been driven to speak, no matter what others might think of her, and even went the length of silently shaking her head when Mr. Graydon remarked that when it came to Abolition, there was room for differing opinions. Since by my reckoning it was all of ten years since Lady Penelope’s rescue of Fahdah and her brothers from Mr. Grench, there were probably several of the servants who had either forgotten or never known of it, so that they would not have her personal feelings in mind. She must know this, but had been ready to incur their disapproval of a mere girl putting her oar in.

  Next day Paul, of course, had his work to see to, but it so happened that it was Fahdah’s half-day off, and when I asked her whether she would like to join me in a stroll by the river, returning by way of Clepton St. Mary for a cup of tea, it seemed to me that she accepted with pleasure.

  I need not describe that happy walk in detail, except perhaps to mention that for some time we watched a kingfisher flying to and fro, feeding minnows to its squeaking chicks in their nest down a hole in the opposite bank. We found plenty to talk about. Fahdah asked me to tell her about the campaign for Abolition, and when I explained the role of Mr. Wilberforce and the necessity of a Bill in Parliament, despite knowing little or nothing of the world of affairs, she showed herself extremely bright, hitting several nails on the head most accurately, I thought how much my friends would like her, but then dismissed them from mind, thinking only how much I liked her. That she was black, of course, played its part in my feelings, but it would have been all one to me if she had been sky-blue pink. Sierra Leone was full of black girls, but none of them had meant anything to me.

  Once or twice that afternoon she teased me a little, and while I clearly remember her happy laughter I have no recollection of what prompted it. She had a beautiful voice, and I found myself thinking that whatever she might say, I would enjoy listening.

  She was in no hurry to leave me; that was plain. We didn’t go home for supper. We had ham, cold beef and beer at a farm, the farmer being one of Darkie’s friends. Out of Fahdah’s hearing, he said to me, “Doin’ a bit of courtin’, are yer?” I replied “Could be.” He wouldn’t take my money.

  From that day on, I spent as much time with Fahdah as I could. Her afternoon’s work included listening for the front door bell, and also waiting for a possible summons from Lady Penelope. While she knitted or plied her needle, I sat in the kitchen with her and Mrs. Beddoes. Some of the time I spent reading, but she could tell plainly enough that where she was, I liked to be.

  Lady Penelope used to receive The Spectator as well as The Times. These came down on the coach from London to Bath, where they were received by the stationer and sent out to Clept
on. When Lady Penelope had finished with them, it was one of Fahdah’s duties to clear them away. They didn’t become rubbish, however. They were retained and read by Fahdah, Paul and myself, and now and then by Mrs. Beddoes. They always gave rise to any number of questions from Fahdah, which I used to answer as best I could.

  I recall one Sunday afternoon, when we walked through Clepton St. Mary and up onto the hills beyond. Fahdah seemed spellbound by the marvellous northward view. She stood gazing into the distance, quietly singing and swaying rhythmically from side to side. Then, turning, she embraced me and kissed me again and again with her broad, soft lips.

  As one week followed another, it became clear to everyone, both above and below stairs, that although I took care never to show it in my behaviour, I was in love with Fahdah. Of course Lady Penelope was too kindly and considerate to ask me about my feelings. On the contrary, she never alluded to the matter at all, either to Fahdah or to myself. Yet we could both tell that she had no wish to discourage us. She was content to leave the outcome — whatever it might be — to ourselves. This was entirely in accordance with her principles. As far as she was concerned, Fahdah was a girl whom she had rescued from miserable slavery and had helped and encouraged to grow up with a mind of her own. To Lady Penelope, it was an essential part of her role to stand aside now; to release Fahdah from her influence and leave her to make her own decisions. If anyone’s ideas were not far from those of Mr. Wilberforce, it was Lady Penelope’s. In all actuality she regarded herself and Fahdah as equal in the sight of God. This was not sentimentality. She did not relinquish her authority as Fahdah’s employer, but she was not going to step beyond it. Many ladies in her position would have felt themselves fully justified in influencing their personal servant to do what suited themselves. Lady Penelope’s philanthropy, however, did not stop short at building almshouses and visiting prisons.

  I never made a formal proposal of marriage to Fahdah. As our affinity grew, we both knew that we wanted to marry as soon as we could. What stood in the way?

  Nothing less than my deep sense of loyalty to Mr. Zachary. Initially, on the advice of Mr. Wilberforce, I had asked him to take me with him to Sierra Leone. When he felt that in the public interest he had no option but to become Governor, I had played a full part in furthering his work. When almost all he had achieved had been destroyed by the French sailors, I shared his bitter disappointment and came to admire him more than anyone I had ever known, as he led the daunting work of restitution. Without him, the colony would never have been restored. In all probability the entire population, Settlers and all, would have become victims of the slave traders, those predators who hovered at his back night and day, withheld only by his skilful diplomacy and their respect for his courage. His resolution had all but cost him his life; and I was one of those who had been with him in everything that he had achieved. If he was going back to Sierra Leone and wanted me to go with him, then for my very self-respect I had no option.

  It was Fahdah herself who decided the matter over which I myself had put off speaking again and again. As the happy weeks at Clepton were drawing to a close, we were strolling one evening through the meadows when she stopped at a stile, turned to me and said, “Daniel, Abolition’s the most important thing in our lives, isn’t it?”

  “It means everything to me, ever since I got back from that slaving voyage with Captain Hawkshot. Like Mr. Wilberforce, I’m going on until we win.”

  “And I’m going on with you. Now tell me; is the Sierra Leone colony a crucial part of the work?”

  “I’d say yes. I know that what we’re primarily aiming for is a Bill in Parliament, but Sierra Leone has been a real victory along the way. Almost the entire population consists of freed slaves from England and America. Mr. Wilberforce, Mr. Thornton and several more of the leading Abolitionists are directors of the Company. Four years ago, Sierra Leone looked likely to collapse, but Mr. Wilberforce wouldn’t let it. And it was Mr. Wilberforce who sent me to Mr. Zachary in the first place. If Sierra Leone broke down now it would be a heavy blow to the cause of Abolition and do us a lot of harm.”

  “Then if your Mr. Zachary means to go back and if he asks you to come with him, that’s what you must do.”

  “But I couldn’t take you to Sierra Leone, dearest. The risk’s too great. Apart from disease there are a whole lot of unpredictable dangers, such as the French sailors I’ve told you about.”

  “I know. But if you and Paul go for two or three years, don’t worry. I’ll still be here when you come back. I shall love you just as much and more. And you’ll be able to feel for the rest of your life that you did what was right.”

  As I’ve explained, Fahdah didn’t care to be embraced. I put my hands on her shoulders, kissed her and replied “I shall write to you. Every other day if I can.”

  To leave Clepton and so many friends, was hard. Lady Penelope and Mr. Hardwick told me that I was always welcome to come back, but when I told them that in all probability I would be returning to Sierra Leone with Mr. Macaulay, Mr. Hardwick looked grave and said that he hoped I wouldn’t stay there for any longer than my duty required. He had always understood it to be an unhealthy place.

  Mr. Hodges drove Paul and myself into Bath to take the London coach. Fahdah, of course, came with us, and parting from her would have made me shed tears if she hadn’t managed with an effort to restrain her own. “When you come back,” she whispered, “I shall be even more proud of you. My dearest love, you’ll find my heart unchanged, and our true happiness will begin.”

  We found Mr. Zachary already arrived home and preparing for his return to Sierra Leone. I introduced Paul to him, explained that we were close friends and that if he approved, Paul wanted to come to Sierra Leone with us. At this Mr. Zachary paused, and then asked Paul whether he realised that the climate was unpleasant and the job not without danger. Paul left him in no doubt that he was serious and intent on coming, and Mr. Zachary, after questioning him closely, finally said he would be glad of both of us and that he’d already ascertained that a ship would be sailing in two days’ time.

  That evening I began telling Mr. Zachary about Fahdah. I had not got far when I perceived that he was apparently suppressing laughter. Naturally, being well-acquainted with his normal sensitivity and kindliness, this rather upset me and I paused, bewildered. Mr. Zachary immediately apologised and, begging me to continue, said that everything would shortly become clear.

  When I had ended my tale, Mr. Zachary said that his great experience during our holiday had been almost uncannily, though most happily, the same as my own. He told me that he had made a visit to Hannah More, the well-known Blue Stocking and philanthropist. At this time Miss More was at the centre of a group of young lady pupils and disciples among whom was a Miss Selina Mills. Miss Mills and Mr. Zachary had formed a close attachment, and become engaged to each other. Miss Mills’s family, while entirely approving of Mr. Zachary, had made so downright an objection to her going to Sierra Leone that he had given in.

  Naturally, Mr. Zachary had been “struck all of a heap”, as he put it, by our almost exactly similar fortunes. His initial reaction of laughter had been due to incredulous wonder – to being scarcely able to believe his ears. The whole affair was the happiest of coincidences — “or should we say ‘a phenomenon’?” said Mr. Zachary. “Yes, that’s it: a most propitious phenomenon.” He opened a bottle of claret and we toasted each other, while Paul toasted us both.

  We sailed to Sierra Leone with Mr, Zachary in March of 1796. Mr. Dawes, during his ten months as Governor, had managed to avoid trouble, although I had the unspoken feeling that he was relieved to hand over and return to England.

  It was plainly with enjoyment that Mr. Zachary took up the reins. One of his first steps was to install artillery batteries sited to command the seaward approach to the river. On and off, throughout the next three years, there were rumours of another French invasion; but nothing came of them.

  Once the rains were over, a militia force
was raised, and Mr. Zachary set out to instil in them a proper degree of martial ardour. Although this did not extend as far as enthusiasm for drilling in the heat, they enjoyed swaggering about in their uniforms and drawing attention to their (unloaded) firearms. On one ceremonial occasion Mr. Zachary made them a memorable speech about defending wives and children, safeguarding the liberty of the subject and upholding law and order. They were never called upon to go into action, but this did not stop them having an excellent opinion of themselves, a true esprit de corps; and at least the slave traders knew they were there, armed and ready.

  Later in the year, Mr. Zachary took Paul and myself with him on a visit to King Jimmy. The old rascal seemed positively glad to renew his now-less-wobbly relationship with Mr. Zachary, and I had the impression that during the interim he had come to the conclusion that, from his point of view, he could have worse Governors.

  One night, about two months after our return, I was woken by one of our night watchmen, (recruited from the Settlers), who seemed too much excited to speak. I made him light two more candles from his own and then sit down and pull himself together. At length he panted out “Slave-ship, sah, English slave-ship, Bance Island depot – bad trouble – I wake Governor, sah, he say wake you —”

  I immediately went to find Mr. Zachary. He was outside on the piazza, gazing down at the estuary in the light of the half-moon. “Trouble, sir?” I asked.