The Promise

by Marti Talbott

  “Do you think him done in?”

  “I'd not be the least surprised.” Masters tipped his hat, walked away, and lifted his luxurious voice in song.

  “What do ye do with a drunken sailor, what do ye do with a drunken sailor...”

  Standing next to Uriah in mid ship, Matthew happily listened to the song and with a careful eye, viewed his schooner. He nodded to each of his men in turn. But not until the song ended, did he let his eyes fall on his Captain. “Well done, MacGreagor, well done. Tell me, have you a wife yet?”

  A well built man with light hair, MacGreagor narrowed his brown eyes and walked right past. “I have not, and I'll thank ye not to find me one!”

  Matthew chuckled and leaned closer to Uriah. “Perhaps on my next journey, I will invite the ladies. Not a man alive can resist Jane's honey bread.”

  The shoreline was diminishing and Caleb's face was filled with concern when he walked to Matthew. “We leave the land.”

  “The land curves, you see. We'll shorten our journey this way. Besides, we've revenue ships to avoid. Damnable revenuers. They seek to delay this ship on all possible occasions.”

  MacGreagor whizzed past again. “We'll outrun ‘em. We always do.”

  The air had turned cool, but the wind was steady, the schooner made good time and no storms threatened. By the third day, land lay ahead. “At last,” Caleb muttered, standing on the starboard side of the ship near his brother and Matthew. “Where might we be precisely?”

  “Virginia, my boy. Beyond these islands, lies the Chesapeake Bay, and we sail up the James River. It was the James settlers first sailed more than a hundred and fifty years ago.” Matthew watched the expression on Uriah's face. “I see you've not the slightest interest in history.”

  Uriah's eyes were glued to the multitude of vessels in the distance. “Never have I seen so many ships.”

  “I dare say Yorktown is the busiest port in the world.”

  MacGreagor pointed past the stern and shouted, “BUCKLEY!”

  Matthew threw up his hands, “Bloody Revenuers, constantly sulking up behind a man when he least expects it. Cannot outrun him this close to port. Furl the sails, MacGreagor!”

  “Aye, Matthew.”

  The British cutter was smaller by half than Matthew's ship. It had one mast, two sails and cannons sticking out of its portholes. Even so, it quickly closed the dis­tance between them. An officer stood in the bow. He wore traditional military breeches with a three-cornered hat, a curly white wig, and a long gray cloak over his red coat. The cutter lowered its sails, slowed until it was parallel with the schoo­ner and dropped anchor. It remained just far enough away to fire its cannons.

  “AHOY,” Buckley shouted from the cutter.

  Matthew grumbled, “Ahoy, indeed. If he were a decent sort he would shout annoy.”

  “HAVE YOU GOODS TO DECLARE?”

  Matthew rolled his eyes and turned his back to the cutter. “He makes the same inquiry every time. No matter my answer, he will next say, 'make way for the boarding of the King's men’.”

  Buckley nodded and his men began lowering a dingy over the side. “MAKE WAY FOR THE BOARDING OF THE KING’S MEN.”

  “Contemptible Revenuer.” Slowly, Matthew turned back around and brought cupped hands to his mouth. “MISTER BUCKLEY, YOU ARE WELL AWARE I CARRY NO CARGO ABOARD THIS SHIP.” Matthew waited until the Redcoat was about to speak. “I AM A PHYSICIAN, BUCKLEY, NEEDED IN VIRGINIA. DELAY ME FURTHER AND I WILL REPORT YOU TO THE GOVENOR.” Again, he paused just long enough for Buckley to open his mouth, “BESIDES, I’VE MALARIA AND SMALL POX ABOARD.”

  Instantly, the regulars lowering the dingy stopped and turned toward the officer. But Buckley was smiling, “YOU SAID THAT THE LAST TIME, MATTHEW.”

  Matthew’s eyes darted from side to side. “He's right. I must be getting on in years.” He returned his hands to his mouth, “BOARD THEN, IF YOU DARE.” Matthew waited but there was no reply.

  Slowly, Buckley turned to his men. He nodded and the dingy was quickly hoisted back into place. The seamen retrieved the anchor and let down their main sail.

  Matthew watched them glide away and chuckled, “The man's not got the wits of a mule. Pity he's not the only revenue ship in the Colonies.”

  THE SCHOONER BEGAN making its way through the maze of other ships. In the distance, more ships lay in wait to be loaded with goods bound for England. With winter quickly approaching, the leaves were off the trees, the land was turning brown and Matthew was chilled and tired of standing. Placing three chairs in the bow where they could still watch, Matthew urged Caleb and Uriah to sit down. He took the chair between them, folded his arms, and studied each of their faces. “I've a proposal.”

  Uriah accepted the blanket a seaman handed him and wrapped it around his legs, “What sort of proposal?”

  “One of mutual benefit. You wish to remain in America undetected and I wish my daughter to marry an honorable man. 'Tis no secret Caroline stands to inherit a considerable fortune and I'll not see her marry another LeRoy. I think to give my fortune away.”

  “What?” Uriah and Caleb asked at the same time.

  “What I mean is, if my fortune were governed by ... say the two of you, my daughter's next husband could not touch it. Am I right?”

  Uriah wrinkled his brow, “Matthew, you hardly know us.”

  “Ah, but I know this. I have seen the way you look at your wife, my boy. A man with such a look would not bring shame to her. And should you swindle my Caroline, Mary would not be pleased. She might well have you flogged or shot.”

  Caleb chuckled, “And Elizabeth would do the shooting.”

  “My point precisely. In return for your faithful assistance, I will keep the Carsons well hidden. I've land, you see, lots of land. I will see the deeds put in your names. Should your Redcoat go looking, he'll find a Carson farm in New York, Maine, Charleston, New Bedford, and so forth.”

  Uriah agreed, “I can see the advantage.”

  “I thought you might.”

  “But if we hold entitlement and you...” Caleb began.

  “Die?” Matthew asked. “You need not fear saying it, my boy. We old men are prone to die from time to time. Etta and I have no sons, I cannot bestow my for­tune on a woman and Caroline is unwed. Save for the two of you, I've no one to trust. Should Caroline have a son, you will deed the properties to him. Should you betray my trust, I will rise up from my grave and see that your precise location is known through out the land.”

  Uriah grinned, “Betray us to the Redcoat? I find that highly unlikely.”

  “How so?”

  “Should you put our wives and the boy in danger, Caroline would never forgive you.”

  Matthew cocked his head to one side, “Quite right, quite right indeed.”

  Uriah placed a comforting hand on Matthew's arm. “We will not disappoint you. Caroline is the sister we never had. We are honored.”

  Matthew heaved a great sigh of relief. “I thought you would agree. Therefore, I've already placed your names on my property in Guilford County. 'Tis a convenient plantation with ample fields and fine trees. I'll take you there as soon as we see the Baron.”

  Matthew stopped talking and the brothers turned their attention back to the busy seaport. The mouth of the James seemed jammed with ships of all sizes. Yet there was order, with those going west to Jamestown on one side and those coming to Yorktown's docks on the other.

  “What wares do they transport?” Caleb asked.

  “Tobacco mostly, and wood. England simply cannot get enough American wood and we've more than we will ever need. Long hunters ship pelts and the workmen in Yorktown carve the finest furniture in all the world. From the northern Colonies come whale oil for lamps and bones for helmets and whips.”

  “And the ones going upriver?”

  “England sends tea, rum, paper, glass, and the post. Naturally, her tradesmen pay less in taxes. Confounded King. A man in the Colonies can hardly turn a profit these days.”
/>   Standing in the stern of the ship, MacGreagor kept a careful watch and soon he saw what he was looking for. “REVENUERS MATTHEW, AFT!”

  “Bloody revenuers.” Matthew got out of his chair and hurried to the side of the ship. “WHERE’S CHARLES?”

  MacGreagor pointed behind the Schooner, “THERE.”

  Matthew grinned. He watched his second Schooner, identical to the first, increase its speed. In minutes, it moved into the gap between the revenue cutter and Matthew‘s ship. “Just in time, as always. A fine boy, that Charles. Not yet seventeen and as mindful as a full grown man.”

  Uriah stood up and caught his breath, “Matthew, they load the cannons.”

  “They'll not fire, not this close to land.” Then he turned to shout, “MACGREAGOR, WHERE MIGHT THE OTHER ONE BE?”

  MacGreagor pointed toward a short dock just half a mile ahead.

  When he saw it, Matthew burst out laughing. Another revenue ship was docked with damaged sails that hung slack and flapped in the wind.

  THEY WERE MIDWAY TO Richmond when the sun set and MacGreagor dropped anchor. Like dozens of other transports, he lit whale oil lanterns and torches. For miles, the ships could be seen lining the James River. Matthew served Madeira wine, the cook served dinner, Masters sang and all turned in for a good nights sleep. Come sunrise, they were off again.

  By noon Matthew had begun to pace. “'Tis a painfully slow river, with all this traffic. What we need are sufficient roads. We constantly petition the King, but...ah there she is at last...Richmond! Look there on the crest of the hill. 'Tis St. John's Church.”

  The waterfront was crowded with people, docks, warehouses, and produce markets. Homes with ample yards dotted the hillside. As the ship sailed past Richmond, Caleb gawked at the large properties with enormous houses further west. Muscular men rolled huge hogsheads of tobacco toward the river. More men returned empty ones, while scores of workers transferred cargo from barges to wagons. “I had not imagined such large estates.”

  “Just ahead the water be­comes too shallow. We will dock the ship and go by barge. 'Tis but a short distance now.”

  Uriah watched in silence. A dirt road wide enough for two wagons ran along side the river. He noticed as a rider approached, paused and tipped his hat to Matthew. When Matthew waved, the rider kicked the side of his horse and sped out of sight. Around the next bend, men and wagons waited for MacGreagor to land the schooner. Practiced stevedores in plain clothing pulled on the ropes and as soon as the plank was lowered, a winch appeared from behind the trees. The seamen hoisted the main hatch and disappeared into the hold.

  MacGreagor handed Uriah his satchel, led him down the gang plank and helped him board a small barge. Even so, Uriah kept his eyes on the Schooner. Soon, the winch began lifting boxes out of the hold...the same boxes he had seen on The Benison Felicity. Uriah smiled.

  Caleb was not that delighted. His upper lip had begun to sweat. “Twice I have sailed on a ship filled with gun powder. I'll never let it happen again, I assure you!”

  Matthew's belly jiggled as he laughed. “A wise choice, my boy.”

  BY LATE AFTERNOON, the number of barges diminished and the bends in the water became more extreme. Still, two oarsmen expertly maneuvered them upriver. Matthew continued to chat away about the people and the territory. “...Scotch and Irish, mostly. They found Pennsylvania not to their liking and took up residence here. Devout followers of the Church of Scotland, I imagine. Beyond these rolling hills lay the Blue Ridge Mountains. Beyond that, more meadow land. Further still are the Appalachian Mountains and the Indians. Ah yes, there it is, Lofton's estate.”

  Situated up a slight incline and with the sun behind it, the enormous two story house cast a forbidding shadow across the water. Its wide stone verandah supported huge pillars covered with dead Virginia vines. Windows with weather beaten trim were broken and their shutters hung precariously. The grounds were littered with piles of rubbish. Untrimmed foliage was as high as a man's hip and no smoke rose from the chimneys.

  “I suspect the Baron sulks,” Matthew said, waiting patiently for the oarsmen to secure their ropes to the small dock. With careful consideration of his weight, he put one foot at a time on the wooden dock. Convinced of its safety, he covered the distance to the shore and stepped off. “Come along, my boys. The Baron came into posses­sion of this land through a grant from one Governor or another. He paid not a far­thing for it, and it goes on forever. Governors, you see, tend to bestow free land on men of their own imagined greatness.”

  Uriah followed Matthew and Caleb off the barge, and then up the stone walkway. They crossed the cobblestone drive and started up the steps.

  “It is worse than Lady Phillips’ house.” Caleb was about to pull the bell cord when both of the huge double doors flew open. He quickly stepped back. A monstrous man with blond disheveled hair, white breeches, and a bright yellow coat charged out.

  Matthew stood directly in his path. He shifted left, then right, then left again just in time to keep the Baron from knocking him over.

  With fury in his eyes, the Baron whizzed past, pulling a bouncing trunk behind him. He took huge strides across the courtyard to the dock. “GET OFF MY LAND!”

  Matthew hurried after him. “Great Glory man, have you lost your wits completely? It is me, Matthew Henderson.”

  The Baron stopped, “You're too late, Matthew, far too late.” He angrily heav­ed his trunk into a small boat. When he stepped aboard, his giant size caused the dinghy to tip. Streams of water flooded over the edge, but as soon as the Baron seated himself, the boat leveled. Finally, he looked back and waited until Matthew caught up.

  From the verandah, the brothers could not hear what Matthew was saying, so they only watched and waited. At length, Matthew withdrew his kerchief, dabbed at the sweat on his brow and started back. When he reached them, he struggled to catch his breath. “The Baron has agreed to consider the diamonds.” As soon as Uriah pulled a small leather pouch out of his pocket, Matthew grabbed it, rushed back to the river and handed it to the Baron.

  The Baron studied them carefully. He laid the pouch in the bottom of the boat and gestured toward the brothers. Matthew threw out a hand toward them as well, while his mouth worked words the Carsons could not make out. Finally, Matthew finished and with a foot, shoved the boat from shore. With a faint glimmer of a smile, the Baron set his oars and rowed down stream. Soon, he had rounded the bend and was out of sight.

  This time, Matthew did not hurry back up the slight hill. He looked smug, as he stopping twice to admire the house and the countryside. Finally, he climbed the steps to the verandah. “He'll have them, my boys.”

  “And what will he pay?” Uriah asked.

  “Everything he has. He's traded the diamonds for the house and the land.”

  “This house?” Uriah gasped.

  Matthew chuckled, “You'll love it soon enough, you'll see.”

  Feeling defeated, Uriah bowed his head. “Impossible.”

  “And where else did you intend to hide? You are on the edge of civilization, my boy. Even Redcoats will not think to look here.”

  “He's right,” Caleb put in. “Besides, I like the house.”

  “You would, it is in great need of repair,” said Uriah.

  “Indeed it is. And who better to do it than the owner of the property.”

  Uriah brought both hands up and covered his face. “You've gone mad, the both of you.”

  “Brother, we can always sell it. A few repairs and it should bring well more than the value of the jewels.”

  Matthew quietly slipped inside the house.

  While Uriah took repeated deep breaths, Caleb happily went back down the steps, crossed the cobblestone and turned to look at the house. “I like it, I like it very much.”

  Soon, Matthew reappeared and handed Uriah a deed. He stood by watching while Uriah searched the document. The Baron's signature looked authentic and the deed was made out in the name of young Jonathan Samuel Carson.

/>   “How can I refuse?” Uriah asked.

  “How, indeed?” Mathew grinned.

  CHAPTER 7

  Uriah nudged the squeaky double doors wider, and then looked into the huge, dark assembly room. Caleb charged right in. When he reached the center of the room, he stopped to look around.

  Matthew lightly slapped Uriah on the back. “There, there, my boy, you...” The walls were streaked with Virginia humidity and angrily thrown food. Oversized paintings of unsightly men in Redcoats hung crooked and the candle holders between them were encrusted with months of drippings. Chairs lay broken, upholstered settees were stained, tables sat upside down, and the floor was littered with newspapers, empty bottles, broken dishes, and footprints caked in mud.

  At the far end of the room, a broken and unpolished grand staircase led to a balcony. The balcony extended down both sides and was supported by carved, round pillars. Second floor doors were either off their hinges or barely hanging by one. Soiled clothing and bedding were strewn along the banisters. And just to the right of the stairs stood a twelve foot, headless, naked statue of a man. In his right hand he held a spear and in his left, high above his head – a dead bird.

  “Where's the head?” Caleb asked, gawking at the statue. “Oh there it is, in the bend of the arm.”

  Behind them, a woman in her thirties with red hair and brown eyes slipped through the door. In a tattered servant's frock, with no shoes and a torn bonnet, she quietly hid in the shadows.

  “'Tis the Baron,” Matthew said. “Not a good likeness, is it? He fancied himself a great hunter.”

  “However did he get it through the doors?” Caleb asked.

  “However did he get it up the river?” Uriah countered.

  Caleb stepped over a pile of rotting newspapers and moved a broken chair aside. “Well, he got it in; surely we can get it out.” He touched the cold stone. “Perhaps not.”