Triangle Trade

by Geoff Woodland

  ‘William, it is good see you safe and sound.’

  ‘Did you get my letter, Owen?’

  ‘Yes, I did. By the smell of the Black Swan, you have a good cargo of fish!’

  ‘Salt fish, timber and a few bales of wool. I assume you will be able to sell them at a good profit.’

  ‘We will get rid of the fish quickly and I will sell the rest at the exchange.’

  ‘I have plans, Owen.’

  ‘Plans?’

  ‘I intend to move my main operation to Boston.’

  ‘What about Liverpool? I’ve bought another ship, a barque slaver like the Black Swan. People were trying to get out of the slave trade and there was an opportunity, which I took. Did you hear the great news?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Parliament passed Wilberforce’s Anti-slavery Bill, two hundred and eighty three to sixteen – a massive majority. Royal assent was given last month, 25 March. We won!’

  ‘I am pleased for you, Owen.’

  ‘Is that all you can say, you are pleased for me? After all, you helped prove that a ship could make a profit without recourse to slaves.’

  ‘Small contribution, Owen, and I am glad slavery has been outlawed, but the islands of the West Indies are full of slaves. What of them?’

  ‘All in good time. We are already working on abolition across the Empire.’

  ‘You know you have my support, but today I am interested in ships. Where is she?’ smiled William, ‘I saw a number of vessels in the river. If she’s like the Black Swan I’ll buy her.’

  ‘What are your plans for Liverpool?’ asked Owen.

  ‘My plan, dear Owen, is to ask you if you wish to be in control of my Liverpool office.’

  ‘What about your father? He would be the obvious choice for you.’

  ‘My father is an old man and I want someone who will push ahead – you!’

  ‘I’ll think on it and let you know in the next few days.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘She, William? I do not know of any young lady in Liverpool for you?’

  ‘Owen, you are being obtuse. The ship, man, the ship! Where is she?’

  ‘On charter carrying immigrants from Ireland to Liverpool.’

  ‘There is no money in that trade.’

  ‘Perhaps not in your mind, but when I mix the revenue from the immigrants from Ireland with the offer of board and lodging in Liverpool while they wait to buy a ticket from me for the voyage to the Americas, the new ship does make money on the Irish run.’

  William burst out laughing once he understood the business Owen had created from one ship.

  A knock interrupted their conversation and Sang’s head appeared.

  ‘Yes, Sang, what is it?’

  ‘Mr Austin, Sur, he want to speak you.’

  ‘Send him in.’

  ‘Mr Austin, how are you?’

  ‘Fine, thank you, Sir.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it. You are off now, on leave?’

  ‘Yes, Sir, I wanted to say thank you for everything.’

  ‘Goodbye, Mr Austin, my respects to your mother and be assured there will be a berth for you if you so desire, after you have finished your leave. We expect to be in port for around three weeks.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir, thank you, I will be back before you sail.’

  George King wanted to be at the wharf when the Black Swan arrived. He ordered his carriage to be ready and made sure his clothes were brushed and his boots polished.

  He left his carriage at the main road and with the aid of his cane walked slowly along the cobbled wharf, breathing in the smell of the river. The rotten seaweed, the smell of the tar and hemp, it all came back to him. He missed the sea. He missed the feel of a ship as she moved in a gentle swell.

  George could see the gangway from the Black Swan to the dockside. He made his way towards it.

  ‘Father!’

  George glanced up at the shout and saw William coming down the gangway, a small man following behind.

  George swayed when the cane slipped and jammed in the gap between two cobbled stones.

  William moved quickly to his father and held him tight. ‘Father, how are you? I am pleased you came down to see me.’

  ‘I wanted to,’ whispered the old man, his son’s arms crushing him. ‘Perhaps, William, a slightly lighter hug. I have not been too well.’

  William stepped back and held his father at arm’s length and studied his face. ‘What has been the problem, Father?’

  ‘I have not been too well and the doctor suggested I take things a little easier.’

  ‘Why did you walk? Where is the carriage?’

  ‘I wanted to experience the docks again. The damn fool of a doctor wants me to sit around while my blood slows to a halt.’

  ‘You should do what the doctor says and take things a little easier. I am home now to help you!’

  ‘Are you giving up the sea?’

  ‘No, no, but I will be around Liverpool for some weeks, so I will be able to help you.’

  ‘Oh,’ said George, disappointed that his son would be leaving again so soon.

  ‘May I introduce Owen Johnston? Owen, my father, George King.’

  ‘I had the pleasure of meeting Mr King a couple of years ago. He kindly invited my mother and myself to dinner to mark the occasion of his new home in Kent Street.’

  George leaned forward and studied Owen’s face. ‘I believe I do know this gentleman. I certainly know your mother. I knew your father very well before his passing.’

  ‘Owen is selling for me,’ commented William.

  ‘Oh, I see,’ said George.

  Once he had gone, George said, ‘Strange fellow you have as a friend.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘I distinctly remember him at my house, before I married. He didn’t drink the toast Nicholson made. I thought then that he was strange.’

  ‘Not strange, Father, just different. The toast was to damn Mr Wilberforce by calling him a butterfly. Mr Wilberforce is a very close friend of Owen.’

  ‘Ahem! Maybe so, but he is still a strange fellow.’

  ‘No more, Father, I do not want to quarrel with you. I have been away a long time.’

  ‘When can you leave? Will you come to dinner tonight?’

  ‘I will be ready in an hour or so. Perhaps I should meet you at home.’

  ‘You know Charlotte will be home? She came back last month.’

  ‘I didn’t know, but then why should I after so long away?’

  ‘I have forgiven her.’

  William studied his father and saw a thin old man, his face lined, and with the worries of the world on his shoulders. The man he knew not so many years ago was gone. His will to enjoy life had left him. William felt an overpowering love for his father and placed his hand gently on his father’s shoulder. The gesture made George look up into his son’s eyes.

  ‘I felt lonely and she wanted to come back.’

  ‘I will keep my own counsel on Charlotte, for your sake.’

  George made an effort to stand straight. He pulled himself up with the aid of his cane. ‘I am happy you are home and safe, my boy. Come to dinner tonight and let us all start again.’

  ‘I will look forward to dinner, Father, and I will not cause any upset tonight. I will be pleasant to your wife, if it is what you want.’

  ‘It is what I want. I am tired of fighting. I want to put the past behind, and Charlotte has been a little more attentive to me since she returned from Manchester.’

  ‘How long was she away in Manchester?’

  ‘Several months,’ whispered his father. ‘I was very lonely and saw little of Donald Nicholson. He used to be my only friend before Charlotte left home, but I can understand him not wishing to spend too much time in my company. Some days I would only speak to the servants or the staff in the office.’

  ‘You have me. I am your friend and your son.’

  George appeared to shake off his bad memories. ‘I must be goi
ng, William, to make sure all is in order for tonight.’

  George moved back from William, waved his cane and walked slowly away. He turned after a few feet and said, ‘Until tonight then.’

  ‘Until tonight,’ answered William, watching his father walk slowly down the wharf, trying to make sure the cane did not slip on the cobbles.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Dinner

  May 1807

  William stepped down from the carriage in front of his father’s house. ‘Thank you,’ he said to the tall black man holding the coach door open. ‘Alfred, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir.’

  William saw his father and his stepmother waiting at the top of the short flight of steps leading to the front door. One look at Charlotte and he realised why his father had taken her back. Her pregnancy was quite advanced.

  ‘Father, how are you?’ said William, and offered his hand.

  ‘Fine, my boy, fine.’ His father leaned forward a little on his cane and clasped his son’s hand.

  ‘You remember Charlotte?’

  William released his father’s hand and turned to Charlotte. ‘Ma’am, your servant.’ He bowed a little.

  ‘So formal, William, am I allowed to kiss my stepson?’

  ‘If you wish.’

  Charlotte kissed him lightly on the cheek.

  ‘We start afresh, William, if it is your wish?’

  ‘I will do whatever I can to ensure father is happy. A new start then,’ and he leaned forward to return the kiss. He could smell her expensive perfume and noticed her skin was still flawless. ‘Congratulations are in order, I perceive.’

  ‘Thank you, William,’ his father said. ‘Perhaps it will be a beautiful little girl, like her mother.’

  William saw Charlotte blush. Had she changed after all?

  Charlotte placed herself between the two men and hooked their arms in hers. ‘Two handsome men in the one family, I must be the luckiest girl in Liverpool,’ laughed Charlotte.

  To William it sounded light-hearted, so he allowed himself to be marched into the house.

  On entering the library, Charlotte released her hold and moved to a table on which stood a row of bottles and glasses. ‘Drinks are ready. What would you like, William?’

  ‘Brandy, please.’

  ‘George, darling, what would you like?’

  ‘The confounded doctor doesn’t like me drinking, you know.’ George said to his son, ‘but I will outlive them all! Brandy, please.’ Charlotte picked up a decanter and poured a generous amount in to one glass and a smaller amount in another.

  ‘I’ll serve the drinks. We don’t need servants interrupting us.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said William as he accepted his drink and sat in an armchair near the fire. He watched Charlotte fuss over his father’s drink. She was still a very attractive woman. The emerald-green dress matched her blue-green eyes. He remembered that the first time he had seen her. He thought her eyes were blue.

  Charlotte turned quickly and saw William looking at her. She smiled to herself as he quickly looked away. She was still attractive to men, she thought, satisfied, even with her excessive mass.

  ‘Do tell us of your adventures, William,’ said Charlotte as she smoothed the silk dress and sat near her husband.

  ‘Not much to tell really.’

  ‘Come, my boy, what about Boston?’

  ‘The town is growing quickly and has a large deep-water harbour. I intend to expand and open an office there.’

  ‘An office? Who will manage the Liverpool office?’ asked Charlotte.

  A small note of caution entered William’s mind. The best way to answer his stepmother was to be vague. ‘I will have someone to oversee my interests while I am away.’

  Before Charlotte could say anything the library door opened, ‘Dinner, Sir, it’s ready.’

  ‘Thank you, Alfred,’ said George. ‘William, Charlotte, shall we retire to the dining room?’

  On standing, Charlotte again made a point of holding on to each of them as they made their way to the dining room.

  The meal progressed pleasantly, and with the help of a number of glasses of wine, there was a great deal of laughter. William was pleased to see his father enjoying himself, especially after their last meeting at the club.

  Charlotte’s eyes flashed between the two men. The wine made her daring and she concentrated her gaze more and more on her stepson. Her face became a little flushed and her laughter a little louder as she consumed more wine.

  William felt relaxed for the first time in months. Had he been wrong about Charlotte and perhaps she wasn’t as wicked as he first thought? Perhaps the forthcoming baby had made her happy to be the wife of an older man.

  ‘Should we ask the lady to leave?’ asked George as the meal drew to a close and Alfred brought in cigars.

  ‘I would give the lady the choice, Father.’

  ‘This lady is not leaving just because you two wish to smoke,’ Charlotte laughingly told them.

  George selected a cigar, clipped the cap and held it gently while Alfred waved a flame near the unclipped end. George drew on the heat and dragged in the taste of the cigar smoke. He checked the glow at the end, satisfied himself that it was even, nodded at Alfred and settled down to enjoy the smoke and his first glass of port.

  William refused a cigar.

  ‘Still not smoking, William?’

  ‘No, Father, I only smoke occasionally.’

  ‘I wish I could smoke,’ whispered Charlotte as she rolled a cigar through her fingers.

  ‘Not a ladylike skill, my dear.’

  ‘George, darling, let me try yours.’

  ‘How is the business, Father?’

  ‘Business is good. If you are interested, we no longer send our ships on the African trade.’

  ‘I am glad to hear that. Are they back on the Mediterranean and Baltic trade?’

  ‘Yes, it is much easier to trade in those areas now that Napoleon has lost his fleet.’

  ‘George, darling, did you hear me?’ asked Charlotte peevishly.

  George sighed. ‘Yes, my dear, I did, but you are not to smoke and that is final.’

  Charlotte pouted and quickly drank her small glass of port. She banged the glass down and indicated for William to pass the decanter. He pushed the bottle across the table. Charlotte poured herself another glass, spilling some on the tablecloth. She glanced up guiltily. William was watching her.

  Everything was funny, as well as moving in slow motion. Why hadn’t the men laughed when she spilt the wine? She dipped her finger in the spilt port and pressed her wet finger to her mouth and sucked on the tip while staring at William. Men had all the fun, but she knew how to control that fun.

  Placing her finger in the pool again she watched her son-in-law as his eyes followed her finger to her mouth.

  ‘William, you are not listening to me!’

  ‘Sorry, Father, what did you say?’

  ‘I am thinking of selling the Elizabeth and the Margaret. I am too old to worry about them.’

  ‘But you are only in your fifties, Father.’

  ‘I am tired and …’

  ‘You haven’t mentioned selling the ships, George,’ interrupted Charlotte. Her hand suspended in midair allowing a drop of port to run down her hand and drip back to the table.

  ‘I made up my mind this evening, after seeing William again.’

  ‘But why?’ she demanded. ‘You have many years left in you. You’re not ill.’

  ‘I am tired and want to rest.’ He tapped his cigar, allowing the ash to fall into the ashtray.

  ‘Have you received any offers?’

  ‘No, as I said, I have only decided this evening.’

  ‘George, darling you can’t sell. What will we live off?’

  ‘I have been successful with the company and have money set aside, so we will not want for much.’

  ‘The ships are old, Father, and I fear that their best years have passed.’
<
br />   ‘Aye, I know, but someone will always buy them if they can still sail.’

  William sipped his port and looked at his father. He did seem older than his years. Perhaps he was sick. He couldn’t imagine Liverpool without his father. The idea of the Margaret Rose and the Elizabeth Rose being sold to someone who may treat them as nothing more than coal hulks, or worse, was not something he wished to think about.

  His mind calculated the value of the two ships. The average cost of a new ship was about fifteen pounds a ton. Using the Albatross as a comparison at 162 tons, she would have cost about two and a half thousand pounds, new, but he bought her cheaply on a falling market. His father’s ships would be worth about seven or eight hundred pounds each. He decided that if he used them on the American east coast trade they would return a fair profit.

  ‘Father, I’ll buy them both.’

  ‘Both! Where will you get the money to buy two ships?’ asked his father.

  ‘If you want the two Roses to be taken care of, then I am the person who will do it.’

  ‘But, Father was going …’ interrupted Charlotte.

  ‘But?’ asked William, scrutinising Charlotte, ‘do you wish to buy them?’

  ‘Of course I can’t buy them, what would I do with two ships?’ Her voice rose in anger.

  ‘Calm yourself, my dear, William didn’t mean anything.’

  Charlotte sat back in the chair, aware of a tightening in her chest as she tried to control her anger. She stared at William and pressed her lips into a thin line. One day, she thought, I will have my revenge.

  The thought calmed her a little, so she allowed her fists to slowly unclench and placed her hands palm down on the tablecloth. She would wait for the right time.

  She studied William, who had not looked at her since asking if she wished to buy the two ships. Slowly her face relaxed. She opened her eyes wider in an effort to reflect innocence.

  The two ships were destined for her father. Donald Nicholson wanted to use them on the slave trade to Brazil. For a small fee, his Portuguese agents would be happy to acknowledge that the two vessels were theirs. When George died, the ships would pass to Charlotte to do with as she pleased. She knew that George’s health was deteriorating fast. William’s concerned looks over dinner had confirmed her thoughts. If he sold the ships now, Charlotte doubted there would be enough money to build or buy two new ships for her father.