20
Lady Luck, Boston Harbor
November 17, 1737
First thing in the morning, as soon as he saw the cook return to the galley with the captain’s breakfast tray, Bairn met the captain in the round house. Captain Berwick welcomed him in, delighted to see him. “Ah, Bairn. Yer early. Good. I want to discuss charting the ship’s plot.”
“Sir, ’tis already plotted. North, then east, following the stream of warm water.”
“Not northeast. We’ve had a change of plans. I want t’ head here.” He pointed on the map to the western coast of Africa.
Bairn took a deep breath. This, he had been expecting. “Captain Berwick, sir, I signed up for this ship under the assumption that the Lady Luck was heading to England. To sell goods from the colonies and return with Germans. You said so.”
“With all yer worryin’ and frettin’, ye’ve convinced me of the hazards of mid-winter sailing. I want you t’ chart Lady Luck t’ go south 30 N latitude.”
Aye, to reach the trade winds. Bairn had to tread carefully. “Sir, as you ken, winds and currents have a powerful influence. ’Tis easiest to use the westerlies in a northeasterly direction, not to fight them.”
The captain ignored him. “During the trip, I want you to re-outfit the lower deck.”
“In what way?”
“Some hardware has to be added.”
Bairn braced his forearms on the small table. “Captain Berwick, have ye gone into the man-stealing trade? Is that why you’ve purchased rum? To trade for slaves in Africa?” The Triangle Trade. Rum. Slaves. Molasses.
The captain blinked. “It’s just business.”
Bairn’s tone was purposefully polite. “Not to this first mate.” He said it mildly enough, he thought, though the whole notion made him livid. “I dinnae think Captain Stedman would have a cousin who was in the rum-and-slave trade. I have heard him say, on many occasions, that man-stealing was the work o’ the devil.”
The captain gave him a hard look. “My cousin dinnae have the financial pressures that I have. There are investors to please, debts to pay off. I’ll thank you t’ keep your moral high horse in check and follow me orders.”
His moral high horse? Not so long ago, Bairn might have turned a blind eye to the rum-and-slave trade, thinking only of the riches that awaited him.
Not so long ago.
But Anna had changed his thinking about . . . everything.
“Not I,” he could hear her say in her soft, gentle voice, as sweet as an evening bird. “It is not I who has changed you. It’s the work of God, stirring your conscience.”
That, too, troubled his mind. In fact, Bairn hadn’t felt a peaceful moment since he had left the docks at Port Philadelphia.
It was no wonder the lower deck was not filled. And now Bairn understood Captain Berwick’s enthusiasm to promote a ship’s carpenter to first mate. He would be employed to drill shackles and chains into the walls. He had walked right into this mess.
“And another thing. That brother of yours has to be put off ship in Boston.”
“Put off? An eight-year-old laddie, alone in a city?”
“He’s hardly an innocent laddie. He’s a rascal, a gremlin, a scalawag. I dinnae care what ye do with him. Sell him as an indentured servant. Just get him off me ship.”
“Then I’ll go with him.”
“Nonsense. Ye’ll be a rich man by this journey’s end.” He gave him a lopsided grin. “And I’ll be even richer.”
“Sir, I’ll find you another first mate.”
The captain’s grin faded. “May I remind ye, Bairn, that ye signed a legal contract. If ye jump ship now, I’ll have you arrested and sell yer little scoundrel of a brother t’ the first redemptioner who has the misfortune to bid on him. And dinnae think I won’t.”
They locked eyes. Then the captain flicked his wrist toward the door, dismissing Bairn without another word.
Jacob’s Cabin
November 18, 1737
As the sun rose over the tops of the trees around them, Anna was already tending the hearth. She pulled a pat of resting dough from the bread crock, mixed together last night before she went to bed. She was kneading it when Maria’s hand dropped onto her shoulder. “I think your grandparents would approve.”
“Approve of what?”
“The newcomer, of course. He is the kind of man your grandfather wanted for you.”
Anna punched the dough.
“You have a destiny, Anna. You are meant to serve God with your life.”
Her hands clawed at the dough. “That destiny belongs to all of us. We are all meant to serve God.”
“Exactly. And nothing is more pleasing to God than to marry and bear children who will grow up to serve and please Him.”
Anna refused to look at her, refused to respond to her. The silence stretched between them. Maria always spoke with such certainty, even concerning things she knew nothing about. She’d hardly had time to form her own impressions of this newcomer, and here Maria was trying to persuade her to bind herself to him for life. So was Peter. So was the newcomer himself!
After mixing the dough with leavening and shaping it into fist-sized balls, Anna put them in clay vessels around the edges of the fire. They would be ready in time for breakfast. She noticed how much gray ash was piling up under the fire, so she scooped it into a bucket and started toward the door, but Maria grabbed her arm.
She looked down, watching her own fingers tighten around the bucket handle.
“Listen to me, Anna. He wants you, that newcomer. He wants you, he does. There’s no little fondness in his gaze as he looks at you. He’s positively besotted. I know the look of passion in a man’s eyes.”
Anna’s mouth sagged open. “What?” Maria’s words shocked her. Women did not speak aloud of a man’s desire. They never even acknowledged the existence of such a thing.
Christian came into the cabin. He sat slowly and heavily in his place at the table, moving as if he carried a log on his big shoulders to round them and weigh them down.
“You would do well for the church,” Maria whispered. “Marrying you would keep Henrik with us. Keep him from leaving to find another church.”
“What makes you think he wants to leave?”
“Before he left for Philadelphia, he asked Christian if there were other settlements nearby, any that he knew of. Why else would he ask? He must be thinking of leaving.”
“What did Christian tell him?”
“That he would have to go to Germantown to find other like-minded people.” She continued to clasp Anna’s arm. “You must encourage him to stay with us.”
“Maria, our church rests in God’s hands, not in man’s.”
“He’s not just any man. We have seen the hand of God working in his life. Think of the wolf that was coming after my Catrina. Think of the flash flood.” Her grip on Anna loosened, but Maria’s eyes were on her weary husband, who sat with his head in his hands. Christian looked utterly spent.
They needed a leader, that was clear.
Anna’s mind spun. She wasn’t sure what to think.
Of all the months of the year, Dorothea had always loved November best. Sunlight was soft and golden, slanting low as the days shortened. It could surprise you, November could. One day, there’d be cold snaps and frost, and you’d think here comes winter! But the next day would dawn mild and sweet.
Another surprise from the month of November: Sister Marcella, who had at first seemed a woman stingy with her words, started to linger in Dorothea’s room after bringing the day’s fresh supplies. She even had the longsuffering Brother Andrew haul in another wooden chair, so the two women could visit together by the fire in the late afternoon.
Today, the solemn sister had the baby on her lap, playing peekaboo with him, getting giggles out of him.
“Does he remind you of your son?” Dorothea asked.
Sister Marcella’s smile faded and Dorothea regretted that she brought up the sister’s child. It haunted her, though. To think of a mother who willingly left her child. Dorothea’s sons might have left her, but she had never left them. Not willingly.
She wondered if she should apologize to the sister, but before she could, Jacob stirred and she hurried to his side to see if his eyes were open.
“You give your husband very tender care,” Sister Marcella said, her gaze on Jacob as she came to the bedside.
“For all of Jacob’s faults, I know he would do the same for me,” Dorothea said. “A promise is a promise, after all. That’s what marriage is meant to be. A promise to the end.” In the silence that followed, she realized what she had just said, and to whom. “I’m sorry. It’s not for me to pass judgment.”
Sister Marcella seemed to come back from somewhere far away. “I must go.” Her eyes grew glassy as she handed the baby to Dorothea.
“Please, don’t be upset with me. I spoke without thinking.” Had she gone and ruined it? Such a fragile thread of friendship—had she snipped it? Brother Andrew would come and haul away the extra chair. The days would grow so long again.
Sister Marcella gave her a mild smile, sad and sweet. “I’m not upset. Not with you, anyway. Not at all.” But still she left the little room.
When Dorothea heard the latch click shut behind Sister Marcella, the room seemed especially empty.
Lady Luck, Boston Harbor
Squivvers came looking for Bairn and found him in the carpenter’s shop, fitting the crow’s nest with a new base. “The captain sent word that you’re to meet him in the ship agent’s office right away. A longboat is waiting for you.” He winked at Bairn. “The captain’s got a lady with him. A mighty fancy lady.”
“Let me go get my brother.”
“The boy is to stay here, the captain said. Cook was put in charge of him.”
Squivvers followed behind Bairn as he started down the rope ladder of the ship.
Bairn paused and looked up the ladder. “What are ye doin’, Squivvers?”
“The captain gave me orders, sir. I’m to accompany you.”
Aha. The captain was worried Bairn would jump ship. “Then would you at least wait until I reach the longboat so the rope ladder stops swaying? Yer apt to kill us both.”
Squivvers froze. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. Just following orders, sir.”
They rowed the longboat to the dock, tied it, and went to the agent’s office. A fancy woman stood talking to the captain, just as Squivvers said, as well as an elderly man, leaning on a cane. Both were very well-dressed, with a polished air. The captain lifted his head as Bairn entered the office. “Bairn, these two are from Germany. They intended to arrive in Port Philadelphia, but the ship encountered some difficulties and took shelter in Boston Harbor.”
Bairn nodded at them, unsure of why that would be of any concern to him.
“They have booked passage to Port Philadelphia on the ship Friendship. A Quaker ship.” The captain smiled grandly. “And they have graciously agreed to allow your charming brother to accompany them.”
Bairn took in a deep breath. “Then yer serious. You meant what you said.”
“Serious as a snakebite.” He leaned close to Bairn so the woman couldn’t hear him. “He’s bad luck. He’s making the seamen as nervous as a scalded cat. And the repairs we’ve incurred because of his mischief have cost half your wages.”
Bairn glanced at the woman. She held herself as if she had a rod down her back, reminding Bairn of the baron’s wife in Ixheim. “Do you speak English?”
“Indeed,” she said. “I am Magdalena von Hesse. My father is the Pfalzgraff of the Palatinate.”
A Pfalzgräfin. The daughter of a count. That explained her stiff back. Bairn’s response was reflexive and courtly: straighten up, heels together, eyes downcast.
She was a striking woman. She had a creamy complexion and raven-black hair, and her eyes were perfectly matched by the violet silk she wore. Her English was cultivated, charmingly accented by her German heritage.
“And this is my manservant.” She lifted her palm in the direction of the silent elderly gentleman who stood behind her.
“Yer emigratin’ to the New World?”
“No. We are on a mission to find a man who we believe is in Philadelphia, or nearby.”
“Yer lookin’ for a needle in a haystack.”
“Perhaps, but I think it won’t be difficult to find this particular man. He is a distinguished man. He has a way of making a reputation for himself.”
“An Englishman?”
“No. German.”
“Why are you looking for him, if y’ don’t mind my asking?”
“He is my husband.”
Bairn and the captain exchanged a look. These kinds of stories were not unusual. While the New World provided an opportunity for a new life, men often used it to desert their old life. And old wife.
“And you want him back?”
“It’s a rather complicated story.”
“I’d like to hear, if y’ don’t mind. I know yer doin’ me a grand favor, by accompanying my wee brother, but I would like to have a peace of mind, knowing whose company I am puttin’ him into.”
“Have you heard of a morganatic marriage?”
“Aye.” He had. It was a marriage of a noble to a commoner. Any children of the mixed marriage could not inherit any privileges of nobility. He also knew that the one of noble birth had the privilege to put away the partner of common birth and marry another, whenever he or she desired to.
“Our marriage was in the process of dissolution. But after Karl left, I had a change of heart. When I went to his village to tell him, I discovered he had left for the New World.”
“So he does not know that you have come for him.”
“No.”
“And y’ think he will be pleased to learn that you had a change of heart?”
She smiled. “Of course.”
Bairn wondered. He did not envy this poor chap. But he did feel an approval to let Felix be with this woman and her manservant. She had a mission on her mind and much to contend with; Felix would be of little nuisance. So he hoped, anyway. “Have you a plan to track this man down?”
“No, we haven’t gotten that far. Any suggestions would be most welcome.”
“Start at the Court House. They will have a record of his name.”
“His name is Karl Neumann.” She gave him a confident smile. “I suspect he will be rather easy to track down.”
“I don’t mean to discourage you, but there are hundreds of German men, fresh off the ships, flooding into Philadelphia.”
“My husband is a memorable man.”
“How so?”
“Karl is never a stranger to anyone for long. He has the happy talent of being at ease in any company, from princes to paupers. I suppose his most notable trait is that he has the ability to attract people who want to help him.” She glanced away. “He has a habit of exploiting that particular charm.”
The manservant, who appeared rather hard of hearing, seemed to suddenly realize what the conversation was about. He pointed to his head and said in a raspy voice, “Weisskeppich.”
“And then there is that,” the countess added. “He has a patch of white on his dark hair.”
Bairn stilled. A wispy nagging thought that had been floating in the back of his mind, for weeks now, suddenly came into focus as a full-blown image.
Neumann. Newman. New man.