As months moved forward, their home prepared for an addition to the union. When Dainty delivered a healthy son in 1843, they chose to name him after her treasured uncle Cody. Fortune’s legacy in this new land was forged that wonderful morning. Life had cast open its breadth of bounty.
After the arrival of Cody, Fortune acquired a greater sense of energy heretofore unknown. Yet a few months later this feeling rekindled a restless sense of achievement within him. He knew Resting Arms provided a livelihood he and Dainty could be proud of. Yet this recurring notion of making a better station for the good of his family would not lose sway.
On outward appearance, Fortune had a comfortable way of life. His enterprise had the full support of his community. His reputation as a skilled blacksmith finally began to spread outside Resting Arms. And unlike Clarence, work was not as difficult to obtain, so his household enjoyed a solid standard of living.
Yet there were deeper ideals at play which he could not fully accept. Despite being a “free” citizen, Fortune still endured second hand treatment at the hands of fellow White citizens. And like most other Colored, he had to endure bad faith in his trade with Whites on numerous occasions.
Mounting indignities made for a hard everyday environment. In his opinion, there need be no shackles with the prejudiced treatment of Colored folk in Nova Scotia. To him, separate though unequal still appeared a de facto policy in this new land. Only the lack of a better option kept him in Resting Arms.
Today, as was his custom, Fortune awoke to a hearty breakfast prepared by Dainty. Cody was already awake to see his dad away. Soon after day’s break, he was looking over remaining tasks for completion.
Hard at it until noon hour, he walked home for lunch, spending an hour with his family. On returning to the shop, he continued completing remaining tasks. All the while, new customers were arriving while current ones claimed their finished orders.
This afternoon Fortune was pleased to have finished a substantial job for a new customer. Mr. Hunt was referred by one of his regular customers from outside Resting Arms. As he prepared to grab a bucket of water for the cooling trough, Fortune spotted his arrival. Mr. Hunt strode towards his fine carriage with a broad grin. Upon inspecting Fortune’s handiwork, he offered fair praise.
“Fortune Smith, my friend did not go wrong by referring your services! She now looks fit to travel roads for years on end. Much appreciated, and here is your fee.” He reached into his pocket and handed some crisp notes to Fortune. As Mr. Hunt started to hitch his horse, Fortune noticed an error in payment.
“Pardon me Mr. Hunt, but there seems to be a mistake. We agreed on a price one quarter more than you paid here. I’m sure it was just an error.”
Mr. Hunt slowly raised his head from the task at hand to face Fortune. In place of his patronizing grin, he wore a look of unbridled disdain.
“What you have in your hands boy is all I’m prepared to pay. When we were talking back then those were White man’s wages, understand me? You were lucky enough to get my business in the first place!”
Despite his usual manner in these matters, this time Fortune would not be made to heel so easily. “Your friend always pays the quoted rate, and is a fine gentleman. I thought you would be the same in your own dealings.”
Mr. Hunt approached Fortune with menace, stopping a few paces from him. “How dare you talk to a White man like that boy? What that damn fool does is his own business, but I take no back talk from a nigra! Now back off before I get some proper authorities involved!”
Fortune was moved to vent his anger and seek swifter justice, though stopped after thinking through the probable consequences. And so he would let the smug Mr. Hunt drive away with some of his due and more of his dignity. But the vicious Mr. Hunt was not through with him.
“Know full well that from this point forward your services are no longer required. And I will let plenty of folk learn of your upstart behavior. After that, only a trickle outside of Resting Arms will grant business, other than that fool friend of mine!
“Take notice nigra, you’ve become too high for your britches. But I’ll take you down a peg or too. In fact, I may take you down a whole shop! You may never again have the means to take airs with any respectable White man. I would leave town soon enough if I were you!” On that note Mr. Hunt made way to his shimmering carriage.
After calming himself, Fortune tried to occupy his burning mind with other routine tasks. Though in his dearest heart he knew such an environment lacked the kind of future he envisioned while escaping White Rose Plantation. Upon finishing his last chores, he closed the shop and sought out Fletcher to vent his anger. Fortune found him not two blocks away.
“Greetings friend,” beamed Fletcher. “My, you look like there’s something terrible on your mind! May I ask what it is Fortune?”
Fortune immediately recounted the latest incident and his feelings about staying in Resting Arms. When finished, he posed one challenge to Fletcher.
“So I ask you, why do you stay Fletcher? A bright man like you knows this already, yet you keep on here. What’s your motivation to stay?”
Fletcher considered Fortune’s words. Looking about him, a slight smile curled his face before furnishing a response.
“Why do I stay? That’s a fair question, especially in light of these constant struggles to maintain dignity, food on the table and a good roof above our heads. There are so many in Nova Scotia, like in America, who would tell us to be happy with what little we’ve got. They would further say to be happy we are tolerated, for here we are free.
“But their view is a warped sense of freedom, showing the ignorance which dwells within their convictions. And I’m tired of running from ignorance Fortune! So I’ve decided to make a stand against it right here and reveal its hypocrisy. Colored folk are just as good as them. It’s remarkable that Colored folks have lived through the full force of these brutalities and still move slowly forward.”
“I understand what you’re saying,” said an unmoved Fortune. “But I don’t square things with the same optimism as you. I feel they won’t change their ways for a long time, and when they do, only a little. I no longer have the patience to make a fool’s bet with the lives of my family that it will happen in my lifetime. From where I am, its better they take my business than my self-respect.”
Later, after concluding his conversation with Fletcher, Fortune still found his life prospects lacking. He yearned deeply to find a place which did not restrict his manhood or balk at his identity. It was two days on when he heard the strangest thing from a regular customer named Nathan. When Nathan came into Fortune’s shop, he seemed in animated spirits.
“Thanks again Fortune for doing such fine work! Here’s your fee. Oh yeah, so what have you heard about this here preacher man? I guess a lot of folk have been talking to you about him lately. Talk is damn near creating a commotion!”
Fortune had no idea what Nathan was referring to. “Thanks for your business as always Nathan. But what’s this you’re saying? I have no notion what you’re speaking about.”
Nathan gave him an odd look. “But you see so many people here, and you say that no one has mentioned the preacher man? Listen here; they say he works miracles wherever he goes. And he’s a White man of all things! He’s been doing a lot of good for Colored folks all around in all parts. And now people hear he’s coming to Halifax Harbor to give us all a reason to smile!”
Since coming to North America, Fortune has always looked upon churches with some suspicion. Mister Whip at White Rose had been devoted to his, and what a wicked man he was! Apparently White folk here were also fond of their churches, yet their behavior in a supposedly free society was unjust as well.
“Nathan, I always thought you had good sense. That sounds like some jumped up chatter to distract people from carrying on with their lives! Don’t tell me you put any stock in it?”
Fortune’s
customer held his head a little lower. “You’re probably right. Ain’t nobody gonna do us some good, especially a strange White man in this here Nova Scotia! For as long as I’ve lived in Resting Arms, we’ve always had to take care of our own.
“But there are those that have always said we should have it better and should be getting more. Maybe the time for that is coming. Just thought you heard something is all. Good day Fortune.”
As Nathan left, Fortune could not help feeling guilty about deflating his sense of excitement. But in his view, dreams of fair dealing were a dangerous notion for Colored people. They needed to be grounded in the reality of their circumstances for daily survival.
Two days later Fortune had long forgotten about his encounter with Nathan. More practical matters were at hand. He was still intent on figuring a way to move out of Resting Arms. Though until he found a path, there was nothing else to do but continue with blacksmithing.
As he prepared to leave the shop for noontime lunch, a recent customer whose cart he fixed came by to collect it. Immediately Fortune fetched his cart and accepted payment. As the customer prepared to leave, he looked at Fortune and slowly shook his head.
“I’m surprised you haven’t been talking up a storm about that preacher man like all the rest of them. Did you hear he’s arriving soon?”
Fortune’s strong memory immediately recalled Nathan’s talk from a few days earlier. “Can’t say I’ve heard much about it,” he calmly replied.
“That’s well and good, though they say he comes with miracles, no matter what your color or station in life! I’ve not heard a sorry word mentioned about him, though where he comes from is still a mystery around these parts. Don’t know what to make of all the cackling, though everyone knows we could use some luck! Good day Fortune.”
Hearing talk of this strange preacher a second time made Fortune’s curiosity stir. “Wait one second please. Where did you hear tell of this preacher man? And why is he coming here?”
The elder man scratched his balding head. “I heard tell from a few friends of mine who work down on the docks. As for why he’s coming, your guess is as good as mine. But to hear some people talk, you would think it was a sign from heaven itself!
“I’ve lived too long on this earth to believe in something for nothing, especially when it’s offered to a Colored man. I must be off now, so take good care Fortune.”
Fortune sensed the man could say more. “Please let me know what your friends said,” he urged. The customer turned around to face Fortune.
“They haven’t said much mind you. Just that this preacher wants to lead us like Moses to some land of honey far away from here. But what good is it to lose everything we worked so hard for to leave on the word of a stranger?
“Can’t these people see the truth? It’s our ways here that matter. Not another hope promised by the same man that had us in shackles for decades! I’ve said my piece; time to move on.”
“I agree with you. Where I come from back in the Motherland, the Ehra tribe used a council of wise men to guide us in all important matters. It would have been deemed foolish to trust the words of one man, let alone a stranger. “
While his customer rode homeward, Fortune placed his hands on his hips in silent contemplation. Despite his misgivings, perhaps he would find out what all the talk was about. Where there was smoke, there may be a fire.
Fortune and his family dined with Rodney at least once every couple of months. He was still a bachelor and enjoyed their company immensely. The pleasure he held in being Cody’s “favorite uncle” made his personal life feel fuller. With great anticipation Rodney looked forward to the coming Wednesday, when he would be hosting again at his fine home.
Wednesday early evening found the Smith’s carriage slowly trotting up a winding path to Rodney’s home. Due to solid wealth derived from his expanded cartage business, he was able to build a sumptuous residence on the outer limits of town named Ellenwood. Now the Smith family disembarked at Ellenwood’s front entrance. They were soon greeted by a happy Rodney.
“Hello Fortune, Dainty and Cody! I trust the ride out from town was fine.”
“Yes it was,” replied Fortune. “This nice spell of weather makes for an enjoyable evening ride.”
“Well come on in! The table is set and we can have a chat before dinner is placed by my manservant.” Rodney showed the Smiths inside. Fine china and cutlery glistened in attractive settings on the grand oak dining table. As usual, Frank made meals a pleasure to behold.
Rodney’s butler was a former employee of the cartage business who tired of travel. Ever the accommodating soul, he made this position for Frank, paying the same wages as when he was a cart driver. It was an agreeable arrangement which worked well for both.
Lively talk centered on the latest happenings in the community. As well, Rodney would frequently regale the family with more offbeat situations encountered in his line of business. When the call came to dine, they enjoyed one of Frank’s specialty poultry dishes, topped off with a delicious chocolate cake for dessert. Afterwards, they retired to the parlor for relaxation.
“Fortune my friend,” began a puzzled Rodney. “There was one thing that escaped my mind earlier. It caused quite a stir at my business last week.”
“What was the matter?” Fortune replied curiously.
“Well, one of my drivers was passing through the docks in Halifax Harbor during a delivery. Upon leaving the customer’s address, he noticed a posting on a nearby notice board.”
“There’s nothing odd about that.”
“Of course Fortune, though let me continue. My man said the title on that poster was in bold black letters. It said, and I quote, “Notice to all Colored and Freed People.” He was emboldened to read further. It stated that all were welcome to attend a special meeting in that very area on Saturday morning ten o’clock. A person would be speaking about something of grave importance to all.”
“Now that is different, though sounds very vague. Was there more detail?”
“That’s just it Fortune. My man was made even more interested by the last line printed. Again I quote “Your future wellbeing depends upon attending this most critical event.” Using those words struck a chord with my man. So when he came back to Resting Arms, he mentioned all this to me. What do you make of it?”
Fortune’s mind kept repeating the last phrase on this notice. There were so many questions to ask yet no clear answers. It was as if one was being compelled to attend. And that appeared the only way to gain a sufficient response to any inquiries.
“My take is that whoever authored the poster is aiming to pull people into attendance. One could either dismiss it as simple nonsense or be just curious enough to see what the bother was. And why specifically target Colored folk? Let’s be honest here. Not too many people go about in public advertising for our acquaintance!”
“You mimic my sentiment Fortune. Oh well, we are both busy men with little time to waste on idle speculation. I am sure to hear more detail early next week. But I must admit a sense of amusement with it all.”
Fortune glanced at his pocket watch. “Pardon me Rodney, though the hour appears late. We should be heading back home and get Cody to rest. Thank you for your hospitality and Frank’s great meal.”
“Your family is always welcome Fortune. Safe home until we meet next.”
They embarked on their night time journey along familiar roads back to Resting Arms. While homeward bound, Fortune’s curiosity had become awakened. He did not make an issue of it, though the content of that poster had more than a passing interest to him.
There was a peculiar urgency to the poster’s words that struck him favorably. And he had a number of important questions which begged for a response. Ever cautious, he did not rush into any decision. A couple of days remained before deciding whether to attend.
As Thursday came and went in a gritty
routine of hard labor with endless effort. Fortune could scarcely wait to close shop and see his family. It was in this time of desperate hope his thoughts turned back to Saturday’s meeting.
Fortune needed something on which to attach his desires for advancement. Perhaps this meeting held forth possibilities which could break through the hard confines of his present existence? At that moment he determined to explore the willful side of adventure.
Strangely, an internal peace soon swept over him. There was now a purpose in his days as he prepared for a visit to Halifax early Saturday morning. Fortune feared the ridicule of Rodney and others if his intentions to attend were aired. Though if he heard credible news at that meeting, there would be no need to keep silent afterwards.
Saturday’s glaring early light conspired to rise all from their peaceful slumber. Not Fortune. He was already on route to Halifax. It seemed the horses glided along as they made great time from Resting Arms. After dealing with his wagon, Fortune headed down towards the appointed area on Halifax Harbor’s broad dock. Of course he placed himself far enough away to have casual notice of all which transpired.
As ten o’clock approached, a seemingly empty environ just one hour before slowly transformed into a small gathering. Idle chatter precipitated the anticipated presence of an unknown host. Passing time, Fortune looked in the direction of where he last descended the gangplank of Betty Rose.
Fortune knew there was every reason for his head to be held high as a success in his community. Yet here he was, standing in hope of a chance at something more. In a moment of self-realization, Fortune came to a painful admission. Perhaps he was more integrated into the material longings of broader society than he cared to acknowledge beforehand.
The Watchman's Grace Page 16