Freedom Bound

by Jean Rae Baxter

The next morning, Friend Levi arrived at Mrs. Doughty’s door, carrying a toolbox. Like all Quakers, he had a sober, serious manner. Mrs. Doughty’s manner was equally sober and serious. She enquired after his mother’s health and gave him no more than a modest smile.

  From his toolbox Friend Levi took a measuring tape and heavy leather gloves. After removing the remaining bits of broken glass, he measured the window opening for new panes.

  Before leaving, he said to Mrs. Doughty, “A young woman like thee should be living closer to other Friends, not in Stoll’s Alley, where there is no family that shares our faith.”

  “I manage very well, Friend Levi. Most of the time.”

  When he returned, he brought two squares of glass and a small quantity of putty. Setting to work with few words, he finished the job quickly.

  Mrs. Doughty thanked him and then added, “Perhaps I’ll see thee at meeting tomorrow.”

  “I’ll come by for thee. I don’t like the thought of thee walking out alone.”

  Charlotte noticed that Mrs. Doughty blushed before lowering her face.

  Chapter 30

  “THINGS CAN’T GO on like this much longer,” said Nick. He was sitting up in the darkness. It was the middle of the night, but he could not sleep. “Charleston’s a powder keg ready to blow up. We’ve jammed the freed slaves who work on fortifications into an old sugar factory, where living conditions are worse than they endured in slavery. They’re angry about this. When we offered them freedom, they expected something better. And the backcountry Loyalists who’ve fled to Charleston are just as badly off.”

  “What do you fear will happen?” asked Charlotte.

  “Riots. Bloodshed. Cholera. On top of everything else, General Greene’s army is fifteen miles away, with nothing standing in the way of a siege.”

  “Do you think he’ll attack?”

  “He may not need to. Sieges cost lives. I think he’ll wait to see what happens in Virginia. General Cornwallis is on his way there to fight George Washington’s army. Cornwallis wants to bring on a decisive battle. He thinks he can win. If he does win, he’ll finally be able to join forces with General Clinton’s army in the north.”

  Charlotte nodded. “That’s if he wins. I reckon if Washington wins, that will be even more decisive.”

  All through the long, hot summer of 1781, Charleston held its breath and waited for the decisive battle that General Cornwallis was so eager to bring on. At last, at Yorktown in Virginia on October 19th, the battle took place. But Cornwallis did not achieve the result he desired. His surrender was total.

  The news arrived the next day. Seven thousand and eighty-seven British and Loyalist officers and men were prisoners of war. Nine hundred British seamen were prisoners of war. One hundred and forty-four cannons were turned over to the rebels, as well as fifteen galleys, a frigate, and thirty transport ships. Cornwallis, pleading illness, did not attend the surrender ceremony but sent his second-in-command.

  People gathered in front of the coffee houses and on street corners talking about it. They spoke quietly, soberly. Was this the end of the war?

  Again Nick arrived home after everyone had finished eating and the children were in bed. He sank in weariness onto his chair at the kitchen table. Charlotte took from the food locker the biscuit and grits she had saved for him.

  “This is the first I’ve eaten since breakfast,” he said between bites. “It’s been a hard day.”

  She sat beside him to keep him company, not speaking much until he was finished, and then she said, “Everybody’s talking about the news from Yorktown. They say it’s the end of the war.”

  “It’s not,” he answered. “General Clinton’s army is undefeated in the north, and the rebels lack the strength to take New York.

  “I’ll tell you some other news I learned today. Ralph Braemar’s parents have set sail for Jamaica. They chartered a ship, and off they went. With them they took their money and valuables, as well as a hundred slaves from their rice plantation. Mr. Braemar’s name is sure to be on the list of Tories whose property will be confiscated when the rebels win. He saw the wisdom of getting out before he lost everything.”

  “What about Captain Braemar? Where’s he?”

  “I suppose Ralph’s a prisoner of war in Virginia. After Fort Ninety-Six was abandoned, his regiment was attached to Cornwallis’ army. Most likely Ralph will join his parents in Jamaica when the prisoners of war are released.”

  “Then you’re likely never to see him again.”

  “I suppose not, and that’s a pity. He’s been a good friend.” For a moment Nick’s thoughts seemed to be far away. “I’ll try to get in touch with him when the war’s over and I have more time.”

  “That should be soon, the way things are going.”

  “Not soon. We have to wait for Parliament to decide whether it wants to continue the war. Now that France has thrown its support behind the rebels, I think Parliament will vote to quit the struggle and let the Thirteen Colonies go their own way.”

  “You mean, let them have their own country?”

  “That’s not such a bad idea. I don’t like slavery. I don’t like their treatment of the native people. But I’ve no doubt the Continental Congress is capable of running a country. When Britain stops thinking of these people as colonists and starts thinking of them as trading partners, both sides will be better off. But there’s nothing we can do about it. We have to wait and see what Parliament decides.”

  “Nick! That will take months!”

  “I know. First a ship carries the news to England. Then Parliament spends weeks debating the issues. After the vote’s finally taken, a ship has to bring the decision to North America.”

  “I don’t like to admit that the rebels are right about anything,” said Charlotte. “But being loyal doesn’t mean that you want to be ruled by a government on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.”

  “Charlotte, that’s what I’ve been saying from the start. And it’s something that must happen. Within five years there’ll be ten thousand Loyalists settled in the Upper Country and thirty thousand in Nova Scotia. After what these people are going through, they’ll surely have earned the right to manage their own affairs.”

  “Will Britain let them?”

  “After losing thirteen colonies, I think Britain will learn a lesson,” said Nick. “It may take years to persuade Britain to hand over the reins, but in time it will happen.”

  Chapter 31

  WAS THERE A WAR going on, or not?

  Nathanael Greene’s army had its heavy guns pointing at the Charleston Peninsula from both sides, but not a shot was fired. Charlotte suspected that the so-called Fighting Quaker didn’t really like fighting, or at least did not like unnecessary bloodshed. Maybe he had not abandoned every principle of his religion. For the present, he seemed content to sit and wait.

  But while Charleston remained free from attack, there was plenty of backcountry fighting. Skirmishes and raids continued throughout the months of waiting for the ship that would bring Parliament’s decision. Nick reported that the Black Dragoons had been in several minor battles. Phoebe had not seen Jammy for months, but never lost faith that he would be back.

  In February 1782, the news arrived from London. It was exactly what Nick had foretold. Parliament responded to Cornwallis’ surrender by voting to halt all military operations in the New World. Peace negotiations were underway. The United States of America was about to be born.

  At last it’s over, Charlotte thought. The news made her neither happy nor sad. On the evening of the day that Parliament’s decision arrived, Charlotte would have liked to go for a walk with Nick, but with so many desperate, homeless people everywhere, the streets were unsafe after dark. And so Charlotte and Nick sat in the front room, warmed by a small fire. They held hands but talked little.

  Charlotte’s heart held more than words could express. She had lost her brothers, her mother, and her home because of the war. This had been the price of loyalty to King G
eorge. And it had all been in vain.

  Nick also had suffered loss. At the beginning of the war he, like his father, had supported the revolution. But when the violence of the Sons of Liberty caused Nick to change sides, old Mr. Schyler, a Patriot to the core, called him a turncoat and threw him out.

  We’ve both been hurt, Charlotte thought, but the end of the war somehow sets us free. Her fingers tightened around Nick’s hand. At odds with her serious mood was a sense of starting out on a new adventure.

  She turned to Nick. “Do you think we’ll be back on Carleton Island by summer?”

  He shook his head.

  One evening in March, Nick brought home a copy of the Royal Gazette and spread it on the kitchen table for Charlotte and Phoebe to read. Only they and Noah were at home, for Mrs. Doughty had taken her children to a Quaker gathering. Recently, she seemed to spend a lot of time at meetings of the Friends.

  “Remember that list of names the rebels were making?” said Nick.

  “The list of people who’ll be banished and have their property seized?”

  “That’s right. Here it is. The Royal Gazette obtained a copy.”

  “Six classes of persons,” Charlotte read. “Class One: British subjects who never submitted to the American Government. Oh, look! There’s a John Braemar near the top of the list. Is that Captain Braemar’s father?”

  “It is. He escaped with his fortune just in time. Others weren’t so lucky.”

  She read on silently, then exclaimed, “Look at this, Nick. ‘Class Five: anyone holding a civil or military position during the British occupation of Charleston.’” She laughed. “That’s you. They’re going to seize your property.”

  “They would if I had any.”

  “Here’s Class Six: ‘Obnoxious persons.’ I wonder what makes a person obnoxious?”

  “Owning property that somebody with influence wants to get his hands on.”

  Charlotte shook her head. “This would be funny if it weren’t so mean.”

  “Four hundred and twenty-five families are on that list. If you hadn’t rescued me, there’d be a hundred more, because no one staked out on a hill of fire ants remains silent for long.”

  Nick folded the newspaper. “There’s one more piece of news I must tell you. Lewis Morley’s out of prison. He was released today in an exchange of prisoners of war.”

  Phoebe’s head jerked up. “Mr. Morley’s free!” She looked anxiously toward the door, as if she expected her former master to come barging through.

  “Where is he now?” Charlotte asked Nick.

  “He’s gone up the Cooper River to Fair Meadow, where his wife and children have been staying with Mrs. Morley’s sister. He’ll bring his family back to Charleston as soon as his agent has reclaimed his house.”

  “The house where you and I could have had a room!” Charlotte shrugged. “Easy come, easy go.”

  “My fellow workers are scrambling about, trying to find places to live, though they won’t need them for long. The British Commander at Charleston, General Leslie, is expecting orders to evacuate the city. England will send a fleet to carry all of us away.”

  “All of us? Everybody?”

  “All the British and Loyalist soldiers who happen to be in South Carolina when the fighting ends, as well as more than four thousand white Loyalists and six thousand former slaves.”

  “So the rebels won’t be getting back their slaves,” said Charlotte.

  “That’s right. In the peace negotiations, England refused to back down on that issue. Any holder of a General Birch certificate is excluded from the agreement to return property seized from rebels. But we can’t call them rebels any longer. They’re Americans.”

  “Americans. Well, I reckon we’ll have to get used to that.”

  Phoebe spoke up. “What will happen to the Black Dragoons.”

  “They’ll be disbanded and evacuated by ship.”

  “Even Jammy?”

  “Jammy has no choice. When the Americans take over, they’ll hang every Black Dragoon they can catch. Not one runaway slave who fought on the British side will be spared.”

  Phoebe flinched. “Where will the ships take the Black Dragoons?”

  “To Nova Scotia.”

  “What about you and Miss Charlotte?”

  “We’ll take ship to Nova Scotia, too. But then we’ll continue on to the Upper Country, to Carleton Island.”

  Phoebe bit her lower lip. “I’m going to miss you. You’re the best friends I’ve ever had.”

  Before she could say more, the front door opened. Patience, Charity and Joseph ran into the house, followed by Mrs. Doughty.

  “How was the meeting?” Charlotte asked. “You’ve been away for two hours. That’s a long time for the little ones.”

  “Not too long,” said Mrs. Doughty.

  “It was very long,” Patience insisted. “But afterwards, Friend Levi’s mother gave us raisin cake.”

  “Oh,” said Charlotte. “How delicious!”

  “I had three pieces,” Joseph said, “and then Friend Levi carried me piggyback all the way home.”

  Mrs. Doughty sat down at the table. Charlotte noticed that her face was flushed.

  “We’ve been talking about the evacuation of Charleston,” said Nick. “In the fall, Charlotte and I will take ship for Halifax. So you won’t have such a crowd in your home.”

  Phoebe burst in. “Noah and I will stay . . . if you want us. I can help with laundry and housework. I can mind the little ones while you go to meetings.”

  “Phoebe, thee and Noah will have a home with me as long as thee wishes. But it will not be here in Stoll’s Alley.”

  “Mrs. Doughty,” said Charlotte, “what do you mean? Have you decided to move to Meeting Street to live among the Friends?”

  Under the deep brim of her bonnet, Mrs. Doughty’s cheeks turned redder than ever. Charlotte guessed what she was about to say before the words left her mouth.

  “Friend Levi has asked me to be his wife.”

  Chapter 32

  AFTER THAT DAY, Mrs. Doughty never worked as a washerwoman again.

  The wedding would not take place until after Charlotte and Nick had left for Nova Scotia. That time was clearly coming soon. In July the British fleet evacuated Savannah. On August 12, 1782, the Royal Gazette announced that Charleston would be next.

  It happened in October. Phoebe and Charlotte were cooking supper when Nick strolled into the kitchen.

  “We leave tonight,” he said, and he patted the leather pouch he wore on his belt. “My orders are here.”

  Charlotte looked up from the pile of oysters she and Phoebe were shucking.

  “Tonight!”

  So the time had come at last. The excitement that had been building up in her under a pretence of calm suddenly flared into panic.

  “Nick, I can’t get ready that fast!”

  “Yes, you can. It won’t take half an hour to throw your clothes into your trunk. After supper, when we’re packed, a carter will carry our trunks to the wharf. A fleet of forty ships is waiting in the harbour.”

  “It’s been waiting there for days. Why the hurry now?”

  “The fleet’s been waiting to catch the wind. For days it’s been blowing from the east. Now it’s switching to the west. We set sail on the morning tide.”

  “You’d better get started,” said Phoebe. “I’ll finish making supper. It will be ready by the time Mrs. Doughty returns home.”

  Charlotte set down her oyster knife. When she looked up, she saw a smile on Nick’s face.

  “And here’s some good news. When we get to Carleton Island, I’ll be working at Fort Haldimand, where you and I shall have a room in the officers’ quarters. It’s all settled.”

  She laughed. “As I recall, it was all settled for us to live in the officers’ quarters here in Charleston.”

  “No fear this time. My work’s cut out for me. No more carrying messages. No more spy missions. There are more than five hundred Loyalists to
be evacuated from Carleton Island. My assignment is help organize their move to the mainland.”

  “But why do they have to leave Carleton Island?”

  “They have to leave because Carleton Island will be part of the United States of America. According to the treaty of peace, the international border will run between Carleton Island and Wolfe Island.

  “The British government has bought a huge tract of land from the Mississaugas. It covers Cataraqui, the Bay of Quinte, and the north shore of the St. Lawrence River. This area is where Loyalists will receive their land grants. That includes you and me, dearest. As soon as we reach the Upper Country, I can register our names. Before long, you and I will own land of our own.”

  “Nick, that’s marvellous. I can hardly wait!”

  “When you’re gone, will you write to me, Miss Charlotte?” Phoebe asked.

  “Of course. And you must write to me. I’ll write down directions for you to address your letters.”

  Suddenly there was a knock at the door. A knock so loud it made Charlotte jump.

  “Who might that be?” she exclaimed.

  The caller knocked again.

  She hurried into the front room and opened the door.

  A carriage drawn by a roan horse stood waiting in the street. On the doorstep stood a well-dressed gentleman whom she had never seen before. He wore a tricorn hat, a dark blue velvet frockcoat, and a ruffled shirt of dazzling white muslin. Grey eyes stared boldly from a cruel but handsome face.

  Grey eyes. Like Noah’s. A chill ran down Charlotte’s spine.

  “I believe this is the Widow Doughty’s house?” He had the easy manner of a man of the world.

  “It is.”

  “And a black girl named Phoebe is living here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please fetch her.” He stepped into the room without invitation, as if sure of his right to enter any habitation that he chose.

  “Phoebe is not to be fetched,” Charlotte bristled. “I’m sure she hears your voice. She will come if she chooses.”