“On the contrary, he’s quite useful.”
Lizzie turned away. She had rejoiced to be leaving Lennox behind in England. What bad luck that he too had been transported. Would Jay never escape from his malign influence?
Bone said: “The tide’s on the turn, Mr. Jamisson. Captain will be impatient to weigh anchor.”
“My compliments to the captain, and tell him to carry on.”
They all climbed the ladder.
A few minutes later Lizzie and Jay stood in the bows as the ship began to move downriver on the tide. A fresh evening breeze buffeted Lizzie’s cheeks. As the dome of St. Paul slipped below the skyline of warehouses she said: “I wonder if we’ll ever see London again.”
III
Virginia
26
MACK LAY IN THE HOLD OF THE ROSEBUD, shaking with fever. He felt like an animaclass="underline" filthy, nearly naked, chained and helpless. He could hardly stand upright but his mind was clear enough. He vowed he would never again allow anyone to put iron fetters on him. He would fight, try to escape, and hope they killed him rather than suffer this degradation again.
An excited cry from on deck penetrated the hold: “Soundings at thirty-five fathoms, Captain—sand and reeds!”
A cheer went up from the crew. Peg said: “What’s a fathom?”
“Six feet of water,” Mack said with weary relief. “It means we’re approaching land.”
He had often felt he would not make it. Twenty-five of the prisoners had died at sea. They had not starved: it seemed that Lizzie, who had not reappeared below decks, had nevertheless kept her promise and ensured they had enough to eat and drink. But the drinking water had been foul and the diet of salt meat and bread unhealthily monotonous, and all the convicts had been violently ill with the type of sickness that was called sometimes hospital fever and sometimes jail fever. Mad Barney had been the first to die of it: the old went quickest.
Disease was not the only cause of death. Five people had been killed in one dreadful storm, when the prisoners had been tossed around the hold, helplessly injuring themselves and others with their iron chains.
Peg had always been thin but now she looked as if she were made of sticks. Cora had aged. Even in the half dark of the hold Mack could see that her hair was falling out, her face was drawn, and her once voluptuous body was scraggy and disfigured with sores. Mack was just glad they were still alive.
Some time later he heard another sounding: “Eighteen fathoms and white sand.” Next time it was thirteen fathoms and shells; and then, at last, the cry: “Land ho!”
Despite his weakness Mack longed to go on deck. This is America, he thought. I’ve crossed the world to the far side, and I’m still alive; I wish I could see America.
That night the Rosebud anchored in calm waters. The seaman who brought the prisoners’ rations of salt pork and foul water was one of the more friendly crew members. His name was Ezekiel Bell. He was disfigured—he had lost one ear, he was completely bald and he had a huge goiter like a hen’s egg on his neck—and he was ironically known as Beau Bell. He told them they were off Cape Henry, near the town of Hampton in Virginia.
Next day the ship remained at anchor. Mack wondered angrily what was prolonging their voyage. Someone must have gone ashore for supplies, because that night there came from the galley a mouthwatering smell of fresh meat roasting. It tortured the prisoners and gave Mack stomach cramps.
“Mack, what happens when we get to Virginia?” Peg asked.
“We’ll be sold, and have to work for whoever buys us,” he replied.
“Will we be sold together?”
He knew there was little chance of it, but he did not say so. “We might be,” he said. “Let’s hope for the best.”
There was a silence while Peg took that in. When she spoke again her voice was frightened. “Who will buy us?”
“Farmers, planters, housewives … anyone who needs workers and wants them cheap.”
“Someone might want all three of us.”
Who would want a coal miner and two thieves? Mack said: “Or perhaps we might be bought by people who live close together.”
“What work will we do?”
“Anything we’re told to, I suppose: farm work, cleaning, building …”
“We’ll be just like slaves.”
“But only for seven years.”
“Seven years,” she said dismally. “I’ll be grown-up!”
“And I’ll be almost thirty,” Mack said. It seemed middle-aged.
“Will they beat us?”
Mack knew that the answer was yes, but he lied. “Not if we work hard and keep our mouths shut.”
“Who gets the money when we’re bought?”
“Sir George Jamisson.” The fever had tired him, and he added impatiently: “I’m sure you’ve asked me half these damn questions before.”
Peg turned away, hurt. Cora said: “She’s worried, Mack—that’s why she keeps asking the same questions.”
I’m worried too, Mack thought wretchedly.
“I don’t want to reach Virginia,” Peg said. “I want the voyage to go on forever.”
Cora laughed bitterly. “You enjoy living this way?”
“It’s like having a mother and father,” Peg said.
Cora put her arm around the child and hugged her.
They weighed anchor the following morning, and Mack could feel the ship bowling along in front of a strong favorable wind. In the evening he learned they were almost at the mouth of the Rappahannock River. Then contrary winds kept them at anchor for two wasted days before they could head upriver.
Mack’s fever abated and he was strong enough to go up on deck for one of the intermittent exercise periods; and as the ship tacked upriver he got his first sight of America.
Thick woods and cultivated fields lined both banks. At intervals there would be a jetty, a cleared stretch of bank, and a lawn rising up to a grand house. Here and there around the jetties he saw the huge barrels known as hogsheads, used for transporting tobacco: he had watched them being unloaded in the port of London, and it now struck him as remarkable that every one had survived the hazardous and violent transatlantic voyage to get there from here. Most of the people in the fields were black, he noticed. The horses and dogs looked the same as any others, but the birds perching on the ship’s rail were unfamiliar. There were lots of other vessels on the river, a few merchantmen like the Rosebud and many smaller craft.
That brief survey was all he saw for the next four days, but he kept the picture in his mind like a treasured souvenir as he lay in the hold: the sunshine, the people walking around in the fresh air, the woods and the lawns and the houses. The longing he felt, to get off the Rosebud and walk around in the open air, was so strong it was like a pain.
When at last they anchored he learned they were at Fredericksburg, their destination. The voyage had taken eight weeks.
That night the convicts got cooked food: a broth of fresh pork with Indian corn and potatoes in it, a slab of new bread, and a quart of ale. The unaccustomed rich food and strong ale made Mack feel dizzy and sick all night.
Next morning they were brought up on deck in groups of ten, and they saw Fredericksburg.
They were anchored in a muddy river with midstream islands. There was a narrow sandy beach, a strip of wooded waterfront, then a short, sharp rise to the town itself, which was built around a bluff. It looked as though a couple of hundred people might live there: it was not much bigger than Heugh, the village where Mack had been born, but it seemed a cheerful, prosperous place, with houses of wood painted white and green. On the opposite bank, a little upstream, was another town, which Mack learned was called Falmouth.