“Molly, would you like to go to America?”
She stared at him, and after casting a furtive glance at her father, she whispered, “Will I belong to you?”
“No!” Adam said sharply. “You’ll belong to nobody! For ten years I’ll be responsible for you; then you’ll be old enough to make up your mind what to do. But until then, you’ll work in the house for my family—and you’ll learn to read and write.”
That brought her head up, and a light came into her fine gray eyes. “Yes, sir, I’ll go with you! And what is it I’ll be?”
“A bound girl, Molly. That means a servant, but one who can’t quit for a certain length of time.” He rose and went to her, putting his hand on her thin shoulder. “You can’t leave me for ten years—so be sure you want to do it.”
Molly Burns looked around the small, dirty room, stared at her father, who was glaring at her with resentment, then looked up at Adam.
“I’ll be your bound girl, Mr. Adam—for always!”
* * *
The East Wind, a three-masted schooner, swayed with the swell of the outgoing tide as Adam led Mrs. Burns and Molly up the gangplank. As they stepped onto the deck, a rattling of chains followed the bosun’s shout: “Weigh anchor! Hearty, now!” There was a patter of bare feet on the wooden deck as topmen began to pour out of the depths of the ship to take station for setting sail.
“You’ll have to be quick, I’m afraid,” Adam said. He could barely see the worn face of Mrs. Burns in the heavy morning fog, for she wore a shawl over her head and kept her face averted. “I’ll wait over there by the ladder.”
Molly watched him go, and the strangeness of the ship frightened her. She put out her arms, and as her mother put her thin arms around her, holding her fast in a way she had seldom done, great sobs welled up in her throat, and she cried with her face buried against her mother’s bosom, “Ma! I don’t want to go! I’m afraid!”
The words seemed to rive the heart of Mrs. Burns, and her thin body trembled, but she said, “It’s what you must do, Molly.” She held the frail body of the child close, and heroically choked back the sobs that rose to her own throat. “Mr. Winslow, why, he’s going to take such good care of you! He’ll be so kind to you, Molly!”
“But I’ll miss you, Mama! I won’t have anyone!”
“Oh, but you’ll have Mr. Winslow, and ain’t he told us about his good brothers and sisters who’ll take you for their own? And just think, Molly, in no time you’ll be comin’ back here for a visit—and you’ll be wearing new clothes. Mr. Winslow says you’ll learn to write too—and it’ll be grand!”
She knew in her heart that it would not be—at least the part about Molly coming back. Such travel was expensive, and she was well aware that this was the last time on earth that she would ever hold her child to her breast. The tears burned her eyes, and she had to struggle to keep the agony out of her voice, but she squeezed Molly hard, then dashed the blinding tears from her eyes, saying, “Well, now, I’ll have to go—but we’ll be writing, won’t we now?”
“Mama! Don’t leave me!”
They stood there, holding each other until a cry came from the bosun, “All visitors ashore!”
Then Adam came to stand beside them and with a subdued tone, said, “It’s time, I’m afraid.”
Mrs. Burns slowly released her daughter, but Molly wildly threw her arms around the woman, crying, “Mama! Mama! Don’t leave me!”
“Take her, Mr. Winslow!” she cried out. “Take her!”
Adam’s own eyes were moist as he reached out and unwound the thin arms of Molly from her mother. For a terrible moment he felt that this was all wrong—that he had interfered in a matter that would lead to a tragic end.
But it was too late now, so he pulled Molly away, and Mrs. Burns gave one final cry. “My baby! God help my baby!” After kissing the girl, she turned and ran blindly across the deck to the ladder, where a sailor helped her down.
Molly struggled wildly, crying out, “Let me go! Let me go!” But then as her mother’s form disappeared into the fog, she threw her arms around Adam’s neck and, shutting her eyes, held on with all her might.
The bosun called out, “Set sail! Set topsails—set the gallants! Set sail for the voyage.”
Holding the child tightly, Adam whispered in her ear: “Don’t cry, Molly! Please don’t cry! We’re setting sail for a new world—and I’ll take care of you always—I promise!”
“Will you, Mr. Adam? Will you?”
She moved her head back, and as he looked into her tear-stained face, into the clear gray eyes, she said, as if it were a vow to God made on the altar: “I will take care of you, Molly—always!”
As she clung to him, the ship moved under them, heading out to sea—to a new world.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE HOUSE OF WINSLOW
“Mist’ Adam! Look at you now, all back from ’cross de watuh!”
Sampson was waiting at the wharf as Adam stepped out of the dory that brought him ashore from the freighter. His teeth shone in the black expanse of his broad, black face as he reached out and lifted Molly out and placed her down carefully, saying, “And whut’s dis you done brought home wif you, Mist’ Adam?”
“This is Molly Burns, Sampson.” He saw the girl looking up at the large black man with fear in her eyes, and leaping out, he said, “This is one of my best friends, Molly. His name is Sampson.” He looked at the buggy and stated, “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
“Oh, Mist’ Miles he been chompin’ at de bit fo you to git home! We heard that yo’ ship was sighted yesterday, so he sent me go fetch you.”
They made several trips getting the luggage to the buggy before Adam lifted Molly into the seat, then sat down beside her. As Sampson clucked to the team and they started up at a brisk trot, he asked about the family, but hardly listened as Sampson rambled on.
What am I going to tell them? What will they say? he asked himself, as he had every day since he’d signed the papers with Burns and forked over the money in his trust. It had seemed so right then, and home and the family so far away, but now as they progressed steadily through Boston and turned down the pike toward home, a blind panic overwhelmed him.
“Is anybody at home, Sampson?”
“Oh yas. I went by and tol’ yo’ aunt—so I reckon de whole bunch is waitin’ fo you, Mist’ Adam. I guess you feels mighty big, goin’ over de watuh and bein’ a big businessman! Yo’ father is sho proud, I tells you! He talk about you jes’ about every day you been gone—says you gonna be a big plantuh and make lots of new stuff. He proud as I ever see him!”
Adam’s heart sank lower and as Sampson rattled on, telling how everyone was looking forward to his return, misery settled down on him like a heavy cloud. As they came in sight of the house, he had one wild impulse to grab the lines from Sampson and drive the team in the opposite direction, but he knew he could do no such thing.
Sampson drove the team into the yard, but Adam said, “Sampson, pull into the barn.”
“What I do dat fo?”
“I want to go in alone. You stay with Molly in the barn for a little while.” Sampson obeyed, and Adam jumped down, saying with a smile he didn’t feel, “Molly, I want to talk a little to the family. You don’t mind staying out here with Sampson for a little?”
Molly took a long look at the black man, who smiled and patted her hand, saying, “Why, me and Miss Molly, we do fine, Mist’ Adam! Won’t we, now?”
She evidently found some assurance in his kind face, for she smiled and said, “All right, Mr. Adam.”
“I won’t be long.” He went around to the front steps, and when he walked up onto the porch, the front door opened and his father stepped out to greet him with a smile.
“Welcome home, Adam!” he said smiling broadly as he took Adam’s hand in both of his. Pulling him into the house, Miles urged him down the hall, and then almost pushed him into the parlor, saying, “Well, here he is!”
Except for the absence o
f William, all the family was there, and for one brief moment, Adam experienced a striking feeling that he had been in this place, doing this same thing before. Then he was met by his aunt who hugged him, as did Mercy. Saul and Charles both gave him a hearty handshake, and even Esther seemed glad to see him. Only Martha did not advance; she stood against the wall, giving him a nod and saying briefly, “I’m glad you had a safe journey, Adam.”
There was a bustle as everyone tried to talk; then Saul said loudly, “Quiet, everyone! I can’t hear myself think—and poor Adam is quite overcome with all this attention.”
“Right you are, Saul,” Miles smiled. “Sit down, Adam, and we’ll fill you in on what’s been going on here.”
“Yes,” Charles agreed, “and then we can hear what great things you’ve been doing to boost the family fortune.”
For the next half hour Adam sat listening while they rehearsed the details of business that had taken place over the past three months. Basically, the news was that everything had gone very well. The plantation in Virginia had been purchased, and Charles was going to go and begin operations in a month. “I’ll have one of Saul’s best managers to go with me,” Charles smiled. “Really to keep me out of trouble, I suppose.”
Rachel said, “The house in the Northampton property has been made ready.” She looked tired, but there was a gleam of excitement in her eyes as she told Adam the details of the matter. A good manager had been found, and he would be able to teach Adam the business of running a plantation very quickly.
The talk ran on briskly, everyone excited, and all too soon for Adam, Miles said, “Well, so much for our news, son. Now, let’s hear what you’ve been doing.”
“Right!” Saul agreed. “We have to make arrangements to get the equipment moved. It came with you, I suppose?”
Adam cleared his throat, which was suddenly dry as dust. Looking around the circle of smiling, expectant faces, he could think of nothing to say. Somehow he had thought that when he faced his family, he’d be able to explain his conduct in a satisfactory way. Looking around, however, his heart sank, and he knew there was no way that he would ever make them understand.
He had only one hope, so he began to speak, going into great detail about the equipment he’d seen in England, explaining at great length how primitive most of it was. He took so long at this that Saul and Charles gave each other an impatient look; even his father began tapping his foot against the floor as he did when he grew restless.
Finally Adam stood up and said desperately, “You know, sometimes plans change. I mean, we start out to do something, and then when circumstances jump out at us, why, we have to act differently, you see?”
“What are you trying to say, Adam?” Miles asked, staring at him strangely.
Charles expelled a deep breath and said, “You’ve been up to something, Adam! What is it?”
Adam’s face burned, and he saw no encouragement except in Rachel’s eyes, and even she looked tense. He replied finally, “I—I’ve had to make a few—adjustments, you might say—to what we planned.”
“What sort of adjustments?” Martha’s voice shot out. “You haven’t lost that money gambling or something like that, have you?”
“Adam would never do that!” Mercy said instantly. She had been seated to Adam’s left, out of his line of vision, and now she came to stand beside him. Placing her hand on his arm, she looked up into his face with trust shining out of her eyes. “Tell me what it is, Adam. I know you did what you thought was right.”
That faint encouragement drove Adam to action. “I’ve got to go outside and bring something in. I’ll be right back!”
He left the room at a run and cleared the porch in one jump. Entering the barn, he called out, “Molly! Come inside with me!”
She came to his side, and he grabbed his brown leather case with one hand, took her small hand with the other, then made his way back. “Don’t be afraid, Molly,” he said, although his own heart was beating fast.
“I won’t be if you stay close,” she said. Then she asked, “Is something wrong, Mr. Adam?”
“Just a little family problem.” He opened the door, led her down the hall, and into the parlor.
“Adam!” Miles stood to his feet with a gasp, his eyes locked on the child.
“Father, will you sit down and listen for a few minutes? Then I’ll answer all your questions.” Adam was relieved to see him sit down, but there was doubt in almost every face. He said, “Molly, sit right there, will you?” When she went over hesitantly, Mercy moved over and pulled her down onto the couch with a smile.
Adam opened the brown case, and pulling the papers out, selected one. He went to the oak table, spread it out, and said, “I want you all to see this.”
They gathered around and stared down at a beautifully executed drawing of some machine with a great many intricate parts. “Why, that’s a very good plan, Adam!” Rachel exclaimed. “I don’t know what in the world it is, but the drawing is so good. Who drew it?”
Adam replied quietly, “I did. I’ve taken a few drawing lessons from a builder at Amherst. It’s a machine designed to plow between rows. See, you can do four rows at a time instead of just one.”
“Was this one of the machines you saw in a factory?” Saul demanded.
“Well, it’s like one they had,” Adam shrugged. “I made a drawing, but the one there only did two rows, so I drew this one. If you hitch a second team, you can double the number of rows—get finished in half the time; the labor is the same.”
“How much did this machine cost?” Charles asked. “They wanted fifty pounds.”
“Fifty pounds! That’s a lot of money!” Saul shook his head. “We’ll do better with four plows and four slaves.”
“I don’t know about that, Saul,” Rachel remarked. “You can hire one good white man pretty cheaply. What else do you have there?”
“Well, there’s this automatic churn.” He found another drawing and laid it out. “Instead of sitting there jogging a plunger up and down, you put five or six urns in a row and with this overhead arm, you can agitate all of them at the same time.You could even hook it up to wind power and do the job with no human labor at all.”
“How do you know it will work?” Martha demanded. “Have you ever seen one of the things?”
Adam stared at her. “Why, no, but why wouldn’t it work? Just look at the drawing.”
“I’d like to know what you have actually bought with the money we sent with you!” she stated grimly. “All these pictures are very pretty, but none of them will get a crop in the ground!”
”How about it, Adam?” Saul interjected quickly. “You’re covering something up—and I’d guess it has something to do with that girl.”
Adam saw that he couldn’t hide it any longer, so he said, “I have a list here of machinery that could be used—and the total of it was over a thousand pounds.” A mutter went up at that figure, and he said loudly, “I added up what it would cost to make those tools—and it comes to a little over two hundred and fifty pounds.”
“Why, you’re not saying you can make these things yourself, are you, son?”
Adam nodded and his square face was stubborn in the lamplight. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. Give me time, and I can make all of them—and most of them better. And we can even make them to sell. There’s money to be made in that.”
“I want to know what you did with the money you took with you.” Martha’s face was adamant, and she looked around adding, “I think he’s lost it or thrown it away.”
Rachel came to stand beside Adam, saying quietly, “Who is this child, Adam?”
He went over to stand beside Molly, and as she rose, he explained the whole thing. When he was finished, Martha’s face was livid! “You spent our money on that ragpicker!”
“Martha!” Rachel spoke sharply. “Watch your tongue!”
“This is my house and I’ll say what I please, Rachel! I knew you’d stand up for him, but I’m telling you what I’ve s
aid all along, and that is that he’s a fool!”
Miles looked totally defeated, his face gray with strain and disappointment. Adam’s heart grew sick as he looked at his father, and he could say nothing.
A frightful argument ensued, raging for over an hour. Saul, Esther, Charles, and Martha argued bitterly against Rachel and Mercy. Miles said little, but sat down in a chair, his head slumped over his chest.
Finally Adam shouted, “Listen to me!” His tone startled them, and with a pale face he said, “You’ll get the money back. I can get a good job at a forge in Philadelphia. Mr. Franklin will help me.”
“We need it now!” Charles growled.
“Yes, it’ll take you years to earn that much,” Saul spat out in disgust. “I suppose we can put the girl out to work somewhere—try to get some of the money back.”
Adam stared at him, then looked around the room. Finally he said quietly, “You know, I’ve never been much good for anything. Never did well at books. The rest of you are all good at things. But I’ve always been proud to be a Winslow. I always had that, even though I wasn’t much myself.” He started to say more, but changed his mind. He reached down and took Molly’s hand. “Tonight I’m ashamed to be a part of such a grabbing, selfish bunch of heathens!”
He started for the door, but suddenly Miles called out, “Wait!”
Adam paused, turned to look at his father, who had risen and was staring at Molly with a strange look in his old eyes. He was quiet for so long that they could all hear quite clearly the tick of the clock in the hall. Finally he began to speak, his voice reedy at first, but growing stronger.
“I was just thinking of my grandfather. Remember him, Rachel?”
“Yes!”
“He told us so many times about the poor, half-starved crowd that stumbled off the Mayflower! None of them rich. All poor, but all hungry for a new way of life. I was thinking about that poor boy that died in his arms just as the ship came in sight of the new land. What was his name, Rachel?”
“William Butten,” Rachel said quietly. “Yes, I’ve heard that story.”
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