"No." I laugh. "But I will thank you for your kind protection on our journey here."
"My pleasure, Princess," he says, looking out on the preparations for his departure that are taking place on the dock. Sergeant Bailey is having a fine time ordering the privates about as packs are being loaded and horses are being bridled, saddled, and cinched up. It is plain that these cavalrymen will be glad to get back in the saddle again.
"I think you should be all right, as regards safety, from here on down. The land is quite settled and there are no reports of hostile Indians about. And we haven't seen those slavers for a while."
I nod and reflect that no, we have not. We spotted them a few times, lurking around the edges of our crowds, but they made no move against us. We had found out, by asking about, that they were the Beam family, Pap Beam and his five grown sons. They were supposed to have a farm of some sort on the river and from there ranged up and down in search of escaped slaves to sell back to their owners. The Beams were much feared in this region, by both blacks and whites, and all gave them a wide berth.
"I'm sure we'll be all right, Richard. We're going to stay well out in the river, and that should be protection enough."
"You'll not set up for a performance today?"
"No, we'll get under way as soon as you take your leave. We're all anxious to get to New Orleans as soon as possible, me to see if I can find Mr. Fletcher, the others to enjoy the charms of a real city after this long journey." I shake my head. "No, I think the showboat Belle of the Golden West has had its final curtain call. Besides, how could poor Prudence Goodlove ever manage without her Captain Noble Strongheart?" I say, smiling and putting my hand on his.
He laughs. "I did enjoy that bit of nonsense, though."
"As did I, and I did enjoy your company, you arrant knave, even though you did mess things up." I see Sergeant Bailey come to the edge of the landing, leading a saddled horse. "I think the sergeant wants to speak to you."
He turns to look.
"All packed and ready, Sir," says Sergeant Bailey, saluting with his open hand held up to his hat, his shako, as they call it.
"Very well, Sergeant," says Captain Allen, rising from his chair.
I, too, rise and go over to the edge of the cabin top and look down at the men, each standing by a horse. "Good-bye, Sergeant Bailey, it was very good to know you. Good-bye, Willie, good-bye, Freddy, give my regards to Kingston. Good-bye, Seamus, I hope you see Ireland again soon, and may you, Archy, once again roam the heaths of Scotland. Alfie and Walter, good-bye and the best of luck. All of you give my regards to Mother England should you get back to the home ground—she may not love me, but I still do love her. Farewell all and Godspeed."
Each of the men touched their hands to their shakos as I said their names. As with all the leave-takings and departures of my life, my eyes start to mist up.
I turn to Captain Allen and extend my hand. "Good-bye, Richard. Fare thee well."
He takes my hand and bows over it, and I dip down in a deep, formal curtsy. When I come back up, he says, "I once heard you use the saying 'Might as well be hanged for a wolf as for a sheep,' and I agree, Jacky, I might as well." And with that he puts his arm around me, bends me back, and puts a real kiss on my mouth.
He releases me, and I say, "Good-bye, you rogue. Go now, your men are waiting." Go now, before I start really crying.
He plants another kiss on the back of my hand, steps down to the lower deck, and then off the Belle of the Golden West, his saber hanging by his side, his spurs jangling. He goes to his mount, puts foot in stirrup, and swings up into the saddle, and all his men follow suit.
Wheeling the horse about, he takes one last look back at me and calls out, "Good-bye, Princess, I will remember you, and you can count on that!"
He puts the spurs to the horse's flanks and gallops off and away.
I stand and wave till I can see him no more.
And I will remember you, Lord Richard Allen, oh yes, I will, and you, too, can count on that.
I shook all thoughts of dashing young captains of cavalry from my head and wasted no time in getting under way again.
"Jim. Get us out farther into the stream. Matty, 'Thaniel, on the sweeps. There'll be time for rest in New Orleans, and it's only sixty or so miles away." They leap to it, as I'm sure Honeysuckle Rose and Tupelo Honey have told them many tales of the delights that wait for them in New Orleans.
I scan the bank as we move along. The shores have changed a great deal as we have moved farther south into the delta of Louisiana. Before, the banks held trees that could easily have grown in England, or at least looked like they could have grown there. Now there are deep, dark shaded inlets where trees trail long beards of moss down into the black water, bayous they are called, and it don't look like England anymore, no, it don't...
"Good God, what's that?" shouts Clementine Tanner, pointing with shaking finger at something on the bank. It looks like a huge black and bumpy log, about twelve feet long, but it is not that, oh no, for it has a tail and it swings it back and forth as it slips its bulk into the water.
Crow Jane, alerted by Clementine's cry, comes up on deck, holding a ladle. She looks over at where the girl is pointing and squints. The beast lies in the water, just its two eyes showin'.
"It's a 'gator," she says. "They eat up little girls like you. Everybody be careful 'bout fallin' overboard." She points the ladle at me. "And no more swimmin' for you!"
I nod in agreement to that.
I watch the bank slip by, looking for more alligators and finding them, and seeing snakes on branches, raccoons coming down onshore to catch crayfish, and big, squawking birds with flapping doomed fishes in their long beaks, with swarms of bugs flying about, and I wish myself back in merry old England, or at least in good old staid, starched-drawers Boston.
I shake off these thoughts, too. Upriver we had found and bought a canoe, and Lightfoot and Chee-a-quat had gone off in it several times to see if they could run down Jaimy, but no luck—there were just too many tributaries in this fickle and maddening river.
I decide on one more try. "Lightfoot. Will you and Chee-a-quat take the canoe and search again?"
Lightfoot is sitting up with Katy, watching her fish. She has a stringer of fresh-caught fish trailing in the water beside her, species we have not seen before. He looks at Chee-a-quat, on the opposite side, they both say wah, then get up, take their rifles, and climb into the canoe.
"We'll try this one last time, Wah-chinga, but you gotta know that soon this river widens out into a big, big old lake called Pont-char-train, and if'n he's on that, we ain't gonna find him, ever. We'll be back tomorrow, with him or without him." He nods at Katy and then pushes off.
I watch them go, wondering if it was wise to send them, we now having no protection, save the river and the few left aboard.
No, no ... everything is all right. We'll get dinner and then anchor for the night. Everything is all right. We'll get some sleep...
Jaimy, I know you hate me now, and think me false and deceiving and of very low character, but still I long to see you and I pray for your health and safety, I do. Amen.
Chapter 63
"Fire's out, Boss," Crow Jane is saying as I gaze southward looking for Lightfoot and Chee-a-quat to return. "That wood we bought up in Natchez must've been green. Damn crackers, you just can't trust 'em."
"Can you start it up again?"
"Sure, Boss, but I'm gonna need an armload o' kindling to get it going."
"Hmm ...I would like the crew to have a hot breakfast and I could use a cup of tea, myself." I scan the near bank, which is heavily wooded and looks like a likely place to find some wood. It's pretty high land, not swampy like where the 'gators tend to hang out. We haven't seen anyone on the shore since we left Baton Rouge yesterday, so it should be safe enough.
"All right, I'll hop over and gather some." After I decide this, I call back to Jim, "Pull her over next to that low bank there. I'm going ashore to get some firewood."
As the Belle slips over to the shore, I go down into my cabin and take off my buckskin skirt and pull on my white duck trousers, 'cause I know the bugs'll be bad onshore.
When I come back out, we are alongside. "Solly, come help me if you would." I hop over and he follows. I go off to the left, picking up sticks as I go while he forages straight ahead. Sticks are plentiful and dry, so this shouldn't take long, I'm thinking.
"Hey, Missy, there's a road back here!" says Solomon, out of my sight to the right. "And there's—Missy, run! Get back to the boat!"
"Make a move and yer one dead nigra!"
Oh no!
I drop my load of kindling and charge off toward Solly, but I don't get ten feet before a hand comes across my mouth and my arms are pinned to my side. Desperately I kick and squirm but to no avail, I am held fast and forced to do nothing but listen as disaster falls upon us.
I don't hear nothin' from Solly so I guess they've got guns pointin' at him, but I do hear somethin' from the direction of the Belle, somethin' that chills me to the core.
"Hands in the air, all of you! Anyone goes for a gun, I kill this here girl!"
"Get your hands off her, you bastard!" Jim's voice! They must have pulled Clementine off the boat and now have a pistol to her head!
"Shut up, boy! Absalom, git the nigress!"
"Got her, Pap! Git down there, you!"
"Stop! You can't—"
A shot rings out and then a scream.
"Can't, can't I? Shadrach, Moab, you keep these ones covered while we truss up the three we're taking. You there! Cast this boat off and take it to the middle of the river or we'll blow her brains out. Do it now!"
"What possible use do you have for the white girl?" That's Higgins...
"Oh, we got a use for her all right, big man, bein' she's the leader of yer gang of low-down slave stealers. A real good use."
There is a thrashing of the bushes and then they are parted and my horrified eyes behold the grinning face of one of the Beam boys. He holds a length of rope.
"Turn the little nigra-lover around, Mordecai, so's I kin tie her hands."
I'm roughly spun around, and as my wrists are crossed and bound, the grimy hand is taken from my mouth and I scream out, "Higgins! Jim! Wait for Lightfoot!" My mind may be shocked, but it's still working. "Ow!"
I'm backhanded hard across the face and then a rope is shoved between my teeth and tied at the back of my head. "That'll keep her quiet, Ezekiel," says the one named Mordecai.
Ezekiel turns me again to look me in the eye. "Got yer little Abolitionist ass now, don't we? And we got it good. Hee-hee, oh, yeah."
They push me back through the bushes where there waits an open buckboard hitched to two mules. Solomon slumps in the back, his head shaking as if he was slowly returning to consciousness. They must have hit him pretty hard, the bastards. There are strong ropes wrapped all about him. Next to him is Chloe, her face a mask of complete horror. I'm thrown into the wagon and made to lie down behind the seat. My ankles are tied together.
Pap Beam comes out of the woods, climbs up, and sits down. He grabs the reins and shouts, "Moab! Are they out in the river?"