“I would like that.” Uriah still held the cloth in his hand and Sparky was curled up on the ground in front of him.
“Papa, MacGreagor could take us to England. You said yourself we can easily breech the house and take the paintings.”
“Aye, but it is precisely what Rodes expects. If he has them today, he’ll have them the same tomorrow. Besides, you have a wife to think about.”
“We could take her with us. I cannot imagine anything she’d like more than to bring home half of London.”
Uriah finally began to relax. “Aye, she would enjoy it immensely.”
“I say we take Hester, Adam and Rose, and perhaps Suzanne and Rachel. We could see Christmas in England.”
“Christmas in England? I would like that very much, but Rose is with child.”
“She will not be by then, and in another nine or ten months, Thomas Rodes will have let down his guard. Say yes, Papa.”
“Yes.”
“No!” Elizabeth shouted, standing halfway up the stairs with the whole family watching her from below. “You’ll not take my daughters on a voyage. Have you forgotten we nearly died coming to America?”
“Aye, but MacGreagor is a far better captain. He’d not allow anything to happen,” Caleb argued.
“Can MacGreagor stop a storm?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Caleb answered. “But MacGreagor will provide enough food and pleasant water. He’ll have blankets aplenty, he’ll take the fastest route, and he has the good sense to turn back if need be.”
“Aye.” Elizabeth lifted her skirt too high, marched to the top of the stairs and turned back to face him. “They’ll have sea biscuits with worms and silver buckets in which to vomit.”
Putting her hand on her slightly extended stomach, Rose began to sway at her mother’s words. “Adam, I don’t imagine I’m feeling well.” Adam quickly put his arm around her.
“Now see what you’ve done,” Caleb yelled, folding his arms in a huff.
“They’re not going and that’s an end to it!” Elizabeth shouted, disappearing into her bedchamber. She waited a full three seconds before slamming the door.
Caleb rubbed his forehead and shook his head. “If I did not love her so much, I would shoot that woman.”
FALL, 1785
With his arms around her, John stood behind Hester at their bedchamber window and watched the Africans working in the garden below.
“I suppose there are a few more today than yesterday,” Hester admitted, the early morning sun bringing out the brilliant blue of her eyes. “They work very hard, and Uncle says Mahala could never have too many.”
“Yes, but they come and go so quickly, I hardly have time to make their acquaintance.”
“They are impatient to move on.”
John leaned down and kissed the side of her neck. “Aren’t they happy here?”
“Of course they are,” she answered, turning in his arms. “It’s only that they desire homes of their own.”
“But here, they are paid a fair wage, far more than they could expect anywhere else. My dear, I have seen how they adore you. Can you not convince them to stay? Everyone knows they do not fare well on their own.”
Hester looked deep into his eyes and smiled. She kissed him lightly, wiggled free and walked to her dressing table. “I don’t want them to stay, they are not safe here.”
Confused, he stared at her reflection in the mirror, watched her fuss with an out-of-place curl and then wet her fingers to smooth her eyebrows. “They are not safe?”
“John, I want to sell Miss Daisy,” she said, ignoring his question.
“Why?”
“The Africans come to us in such rags. Winter approaches and they need coats, blankets, warm socks, and...”
Slowly, John sat down on the edge of their bed. “But you love Miss Daisy.”
“Yes, but you said our funds have run low.”
“No more so than the rest of the Empire. Besides, a horse is worth far more than the cloth you think to buy... How much do you think to buy?”
“Miles and miles,” she answered, leaving the dressing table in favor of sitting beside him on the bed. “John, last month we saw eleven away. That’s eleven coats and eleven blankets. Then there is food, transportation, a driver, and pots. Everyone needs at least one pot to cook in. Buying pots is not so very easy, you know. The merchants in Richmond tend to be suspicious when I buy so many.”
John had worry lines deep in his forehead when he said, “Hester, we pay them, let the Africans buy their own pots.”
“But the merchants here will not sell to them. We pay them in Virginia dollars; therefore, they have no value in Pennsylvania or Vermont.” She paused to watch his eyes. “John, you are staring at me.”
“How is it you are so familiar with their plight? I thought you content to merely teach them reading.”
“When you are here, I am content. But when you are off with your father seeing to the sale of horses, or...”
“Precisely what are you trying to tell me?”
Hester bowed her head and fidgeted with the folds of her dress. “Well...”
“Go on.”
“Steven paid her,” she quickly blurted out.
“Paid who?”
“Nora Barclay. We simply couldn’t let Maralee marry such a witless man. He would have ruined everything. Besides, Steven was in love with Maralee. He came to Mahala to stop her wedding any way he could.”
“Good heavens, does Maralee know?”
“She must...I think. Anyway, they are married now and all is well. She is with child the same as Rose, you know.”
“Yes, I do know. But my dear, what are you talking about?”
Hester wrinkled her brow and curled one side of her mouth upward. “The Africans are runaways.”
“What?” He suddenly sat up straighter.
“Mahala is a maroon. The Africans come to us, stay until it is deemed safe and then flee to the North,” she answered, her voice trailing off.
“But the entire family is in danger. Does Adam know?”
“Everyone knows except you and your father. Uncle said your father would not understand. Uncle does worry over Adam’s position, but Adam says he rather enjoys the thrill of doing it right under the noses of the legislature.”
John was growing more and more alarmed. “And what if we are discovered?”
“We simply say they are on loan from my brother in Savanna. He and Maralee send them to us, you see.”
“I’m beginning to.”
Hester put her hand on top of his. “My love, I find slavery intolerable, so I simply cheat them of a slave or two from time to time.”
“You?”
“The family, I mean to say.”
John lowered his eyes and thought for a long moment. “I truly had no idea.”
Hester watched his eyes and waited for his anger.
Instead, he looked at her as though he was seeing her for the first time. He put an arm around her and then softly touched the side of her face with his fingertips. Finally, he drew her to him, held her close for a long moment and then kissed her in a way he had never kissed her before. At length, he looked at her face again, “How could I not have known?”
“I meant to tell you as soon as we married, but...”
“But I wouldn’t let you,” he interrupted, seeking her lips again.
Hester kissed him back, and then abruptly pulled away. “I thought you would be furious.”
“I might well be, when I’ve thought about it more clearly. But just now, I’ve never been more proud. You are a wonder, Mrs. Carson.”
“Truly?” she asked, melting into his arms. “Oh John, you do love me madly.”
“Madly,” he whispered, laying her back on the bed.
She giggled and shoved him away. “We cannot, the barge awaits.”
“All right, be gone with you then.”
She hopped up and quickly straightened her dress. “I can sell Miss Daisy?”
“There is no need,” he answered, walking her to the door. “Buy all you want and I will settle the debt directly.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, drawing closer. “And tonight, I will reward you most handsomely.”
“I cannot wait.”
John kissed her lightly on the lips again, and then watched from the balcony as she scurried down the stairs to join Rose, Rachel, and Suzanne at the front door. Hester slipped into the heavy black cloak Clifton held for her and turned to look up at him. Her smile was radiant. Then, in a bluster of girl talk, she was gone.
As morning turned to afternoon, John looked at the Africans in a different light. He carefully examined their existence, their manner and their uncommon adoration of the entire Carson family. In the late afternoon, he took Clifton out on the front veranda, sat him down in a chair, offered him a pipe, shared a bottle of rum with him, and admitted he’d learned the truth.
“Praise be!” Clifton shouted. For hours, Clifton answered all of John’s questions. Then afternoon became evening and John was called away to dinner.
“They are late,” said John, pulling out a chair and then sitting down at the dining room table.
“Sailing the barge downriver is easy,” Caleb answered, passing a platter of meat to Uriah. “Hard is the work of the oarsmen coming home.”
“Particularly when Rose and Hester do the marketing,” Elizabeth said.
“We indulge them, you know, allowing them to spend so freely.”
“Can we go next time, Papa?” Abby asked.
Caleb considered it for a moment, and then passed a bowl of steaming hot corn to his brother. “Your time will come and far more quickly than it should.”
“Need I remind you, we have only just let Rachel and Suzanne go,” Elizabeth added. “When you are...”
“Shhhh...” Effie said.
“What?” Uriah asked.
Effie set the bowl of potatoes down, and then folded her hands in her lap. “Just listen.” The soft tones of several people singing filtered in and then steadily grew louder.
“Is it the Africans who sing?” John asked.
Suddenly, Elizabeth caught her breath. “Dear God in heaven.”
“What?” both John and Uriah asked.
“They sing the song of the dead,” Effie shouted, already out of her seat and halfway to the door. In seconds, the dining room was empty.
By the time John reached the front verandah, everyone seemed stiff and unmoving. Clifton had his head down, Uriah’s mouth was ajar, Elizabeth’s eyes were wide, and the babies were holding tight to each other crying.
Before him, Mahala’s slaves were gathered on the cobblestone and were singing their song soft and sad:
“Swing low, sweet Chariot,
Come’n fo to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet Chariot,
come’n fo to carry me home.”
Amid the Africans stood Rose. Her bonnet and cloak were missing, her hair was matted and one shoe was off. Behind her stood Rachel and Suzanne. Rachel coughed uncontrollably even though Suzanne was patting her on the back and all three were soaking wet.
John hesitantly moved forward a little. At the foot of the steps, a giant African stood with tears streaming down his cheeks...and in his arms was the body of John’s wife.
Hester’s clothing and hair were drenched in the waters of the river, her eyes were closed, her skin was blue, and one of her arms limply hung down.
At last, Gideon looked up, “I have brought her home, Master John.”
“Nooo,” John softly moaned, tears welling up in his eyes.
Suddenly, the whole family was moving at once. Caleb raced down the steps and swept the pregnant Rose up into his arms.
“The oarsmen, Papa, we know not what’s become of them,” Rose whispered in a husky voice.
Caleb glanced around until his eyes met Clifton’s. “Send a rider to the Wilcox place, the oarsmen are not yet recovered.”
“Yez, Massah,” Clifton answered. He nodded to a boy, who instantly raced around the house toward the barn.
Then Elizabeth took command. “Make haste, fetch blankets and light the hearths. They’ll have a death of cold in them. And make tea, lots of it.”
Instantly, the house slaves scattered in different directions while Uriah and the babies helped the middle twins inside. Caleb tried, but he was struggling to carry Rose up the stairs when a stout slave came to his rescue. The African made it look easy as he whisked Rose up the stairs to her bedchamber, laid her in the bed, and then quickly left.
But John had not moved, nor had Gideon. The field slaves still stood on the cobblestone, their song agonizingly mournful and their cheeks wet with tears. Finally, Elizabeth urged Gideon to bring Hester inside. She led the way to the large sitting room, cleared off a long table and stood aside.
Gideon gently laid Hester’s body on the table and then tenderly straightened her dress and folded her hands. Finding a pillow on the davenport, he placed it under her head and then moved away. Water still dripped from his clothing when Gideon bowed his head and began to stare at the floor.
In the doorway behind him, John stood watching.
THERE WAS NOTHING LEFT for Uriah to do. A full half hour after Rose, Rachel and Suzanne had been put to bed, he climbed the stairs to the balcony and waited outside Rose and Adam’s bedchamber for news. Bricks had been heated, wet clothing had been removed, tea was made, fires were built, and tons of blankets had been carried up the stairs. Still, Rachel coughed, and no one came to tell him how they were. Often, he glanced at the closed sitting room door where John was alone with Hester’s body.
Below him, the Africans were gathered in the assembly room. Their song had not changed and the huge, unfamiliar African had taken a place among them. His cheeks were stained with tears, his head was bowed, and his lips moving as if in prayer. Then at last, the door to Rose and Adam’s bedchamber opened and a house slave came out. Her arms were filled with soggy towels and more wet clothing. Hesitantly, Uriah drew closer to the door.
“Don’t leave me, Papa,” Rose was saying.
Caleb sat down on the bed next to his eldest daughter and lovingly took her hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Is Adam home yet? He left Richmond long before we did.”
“Perhaps he had business to attend.”
Rose suddenly began to shiver. “Oh Papa, it was so very dark under the water. I’ve lived by the river all my life and never considered how dark it would be beneath the surface.”
Caleb quickly looked around, and then spotted his brother in the doorway.
“She chills. Hand me another blanket, will you?”
“Certainly,” Uriah answered, grabbing one off a chair and then spreading it over Rose.
“I thought the barrels on the barge had simply shifted. They do from time to time, you know,” Rose went on, glancing between her father and her uncle. “Then I heard an awful sound of tearing and breaking, and the oarsmen disappeared right before my very eyes. I reached out to Hester, but she fell in right after them. Suddenly, I was in the water and I was upside down. My cloak was over my head and dragging me deeper. Then, as I was attempting to untie it, a hand grabbed my arm and righted me. It was Gideon, Papa. I don’t know where he came from, he was not with us on the barge.”
“You know this man?” Uriah asked.
Caleb tucked Rose’s trembling arm under the covers. He touched her face, and then pulled the blankets up under her chin. “I’ll explain later, brother.”
“Is Hester really dead, Papa?”
Caleb hung his head and Rose looked away.
Suddenly, Adam burst into the room. “Rose,” he whispered, quickly rushing to her side. He knelt beside the bed and kissed her forehead. “Are you all right? Oh Rose, I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”
“Hester...” Rose started.
“I know, I was at the Wilcox place when the boy came. Rose, you’re trembling. What can I do?”
Uriah quickly headed to the hearth. “I’ll stoke the fire.”
Caleb got up and relinquished his seat to Adam. “Gideon saved them.”
“Gideon? Remind me to reward the man handsomely. What happened, my love?”
“The barge split apart. I thought I would drown, and then somehow Gideon pushed me onto the bank. That’s when I heard Rachel scream. She was in the swift current and it swept her right past me. I thought to swim for her but Gideon prevented it, and when I looked back, he had gone after her.
So I got to my feet and ran down the river’s edge as best I could. Just when I thought them all lost, there he was at last with Rachel in one arm and Suzanne in the other. He brought them to me and I pulled them onto the land.
Rachel could hardly breathe and I did not know how to help her.” Rose searched for her father’s eyes. “Will they die too, Papa?”
“No, I will not allow it,” Caleb answered.
Elizabeth abruptly rushed in and hurried to the foot of the bed. “How is she?”
“Oh, Mama,” Rose said, bursting into tears, “I hurt and the baby has not moved.”
THERE WAS CALM IN THE air when Uriah took off his hat, sat down on the log in Mahala’s cemetery and watched the large African dig a grave for Hester. Sweat glistened on Gideon’s shirtless chest, and the ends of the rope used to hold up his woolen slave pants swayed with the movement of his body. His feet were bare.
Uriah watched the digging for a long time before he asked, “Have you no shoes?”
“And the Lord said, ‘put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place where upon thou standeth is Holy ground.’”
“I see,” Uriah muttered. He glanced at his own shoes, and then shrugged. “Moses, was it not?”
“Aye, the only man God buried himself.”
Uriah watched for a while longer, turned his hat in his hands a few times, and then wrinkled his brow. “Yesterday you wore fit clothing. Today, you wear those of a slave. Why is that?”
“I wear this to honor her memory and to remind myself that I am a slave. Do you know a slave is given nothing to wear between the wool and his manhood?”
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