‘I DON’T care if the Provost of Edinburgh himself attends these Dancing Assemblies. I tell you dancing is a temptation to sin,’ Mr Blackadder insisted. ‘Promiscuous dancing is a seductive temptation to sin, lust and worldliness.’
Annabella groaned and rolled her eyes. Her husband crashed his fist down on the table as if it were the pulpit.
‘Annabella, it’s an incentive to sensuality and the places where they’re held are nurseries of vice.’
‘Oh fiddlesticks!’
‘I’m telling you, mistress.’
‘I know what you’re telling me, sir, and I wholeheartedly disagree with you. I repeat, all the best of society meet at balls and I will be chaperoned by Cousin Kirsty. What harm could possibly befall me? My heart is set on going, Mr Blackadder. I did not suffer that monstrous journey from Glasgow to Edinburgh for nothing.’
He was late enough as it was for his Kirk Assembly, otherwise he might have prolonged the harangue, but in exasperation and for the sake of peace, especially in someone else’s house, he eventually agreed that she could go.
The narrow lane leading to where the dancing was held was a-riot with coloured sedan chairs and their gaily attired occupants. From tall overhanging tenements people leaned out windows to get a good look, and underneath a noisy mob jostled on the cobbles to witness the fine sight of ladies in richly embroidered gowns and gentlemen in bright silken coats making their way into the close. From there they climbed the winding turnpike stair to the ballroom, the ladies holding their hoops and concentrating on manoeuvring them through the narrow passages.
At the end of the ballroom, under a wall bracket in which a candle flared wildly in the draught, sat the imposing figure of the Lady Directress. It was she who organised and contrived everything and everybody. The ladies gathered at one side of the room and the gentlemen at the other. Eventually the Lady Directress picked out a lady and gentleman to minuet, then another and another, swooping this way and that, making brusque indications with her fan that the ladies and gentlemen leapt to obey. After several minuets were walked with much formality and dignity, all stood ready for a country dance.
Annabella enjoyed the dancing, but she had to admit to herself that the evening was not as good fun as many she had experienced in Glasgow. Here, dignity was rigidity and, although there was much ogling by the ladies and sighing by the men, no conversing or closeness was allowed by the tyrannical Directress.
The ballroom was not even comfortable, with cold air whistling up from the draughty staircase and smoke billowing in from the pipes of the footmen who waited at the entry.
Then, as St Giles’ bells rang out eleven o’clock, the Lady Directress with firm dignity waved her fan, the music abruptly ceased and the ladies and gentlemen dispersed.
Annabella discovered that the gentlemen saw their partners home to their flats and then they adjourned to a tavern for the custom of ‘saving the ladies.’ This meant each man proposing a toast to the lady of his choice. He drank to her beauty and to her glory and to anything else he could think of. He drank vowing to die in her defence and the one who drank most and fell unconscious last was the victor.
In their respective homes the ladies had a cup of chocolate and a gossip before peeling off their hoops and stays and retiring to bed.
It was all rather disappointing and did nothing to cure Annabella’s restlessness and dissatisfaction with life. But she made the best of a few days’ visit to Edinburgh all the same. What she enjoyed much more than the ball was the afternoon she spent at a ‘consort.’ There artistic noblemen and lairds performed Italian sonatas on flute, hautbois, violoncello and harpsichord. Never to her knowledge had there been such an occasion in Glasgow and she looked forward to boasting of the experience to Grizzie and Phemy when she returned home. She had fluttered coquettish glances over her fan at Lord Colington, one of the performers, and later he had given her a very charming bow and presented her with his snuffbox. She had been chatting and laughing with him and having such a delightful interval when it was spoiled by a pert madam with long swinging earrings who claimed him as her ‘dear husband.’
The journey home to Glasgow was not only uncomfortable but depressing. She felt very low in spirits at the thought of going back to the dreary routine of life with Mr Blackadder in his cramped dismal house with its bookcase full of Bibles and religious publications. Unable to make conversation with Mr Blackadder or the servants or even to talk to Mungo, she closed her eyes and pretended to be sleeping for most of the way. Although in fact it was impossible for anyone to sleep with the coach heaving and jerking and jarring so much.
As soon as she arrived at the Briggait she went straight to her bed, so heavy was her depression. Lying in the gloom, she listened to the monotonous tick-tock, tick-tock of the clock that stood in the shadowy corner.
Then Nancy’s feet thudded down from the attic room.
‘I’ve put Mungo to bed,’ she said. ‘Can I bring you a cup of chocolate or something to make you feel better?’
‘No, there is nothing here to help my condition,’ she sighed.
‘It isn’t like you to be so downcast. What’s wrong? Are you with child again?’
‘Gracious heavens!’ Annabella cried out. ‘No, I am not.’
‘What ails you then?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Will I tell Mistress Griselle and Phemy to call tomorrow?’
‘Yes, they will want to know all about Edinburgh.’
Thoughts of telling her friends about the journey and stay in Edinburgh brightened her a little and when Griselle and Phemy came she appeared her normal, lively self, although Griselle noticed that she looked paler than usual. Her father noticed too when he called later that evening.
‘You’re gey pale and dreamy-looking, Annabella. Are you sickening for something?’
She laughed and gave him a kiss.
‘Papa, Papa, I am indeed.’
‘For what may I ask?’
‘You would not understand. I hardly understand myself. But all the spice seems to have gone out of my life and it is very dull fare indeed.’
‘You should think yourself lucky, mistress. You have a husband who does not misuse you and a bonny bairn.’
‘Yes, Papa.’
‘And you’ve just had a visit to the capital city.’
‘Yes, Papa.’
‘I knew it would do you no good to go there. A turn in the country would have done far more for you. A ride to Port Glasgow would have brought the colour back to your cheeks.’
‘What is there in Port Glasgow, Papa?’
‘It’s a verra nice wee place. All the ships come and go from there.’ He hesitated, then said: ‘I’m riding there tomorrow on business. You may ride along with me if you’ve a mind to.’
She had no particular fancy to see Port Glasgow, but anything was better than nothing to break the monotony.
‘That’s most civil of you, Papa. I will look forward to it.’
Indeed she did begin to look forward to it and early next morning she rode up Saltmarket Street and waved cheerily to her father who was waiting astride his horse with his scarlet cloak billowing out behind him. They cantered off together and soon left Glasgow far behind and were alone in the open countryside. The road deteriorated as they came nearer the port until there was no road at all. Then, after clopping through thick woods, they had to slither the horses down a rough track on a steep hill. From the hill the view was breathtakingly beautiful and shimmering bays and peninsulas and surrounding mountains of purple could be seen.
Port Glasgow nestled down in a bay that was a forest of ships’ masts. Whitewashed houses ran in a semicircle with many closes at the front and gardens at the back. The houses were two storeys in height with high pitched roofs and crow-stepped gables. Behind the houses stretched a building of immense length and Ramsay explained that this was the rope works.
They went to a tavern for a glass of ale with which to refresh themselves and found the tavern busy with sailors and masters of ships as well as local farmers and tradespeople. Supping her ale, Annabella became intrigued with some of the conversations going on around her. Sailors were telling of fearsome adventures aboard ship, of being boarded by swashbuckling pirates, of storms and shipwrecks on tropical islands. Others enthused on the marvels of Virginia.
‘It’s a new world all right,’ someone said. ‘A different world, a fantastic world. Everything is giant size and the numbers of birds and beasts are truly incredible. I tell no lie when I say I have seen flights of birds miles long that blacked out the sun. When such a flight rises in the air it is like roaring thunder.’
Someone else said:
‘There are many great mansion houses along the banks of the James River. Huge places, each with a ballroom, outbuildings and slave quarters. Plantations have their own carpenters, coopers, blacksmiths, tanners, curriers, shoemakers, spinners, weavers, knitters and even distillers. A plantation’s like a complete city.’
Someone else again:
‘There are towns too and the streets are gay with scarlet, gold-laced uniforms and brightly coloured coats, and women’s dresses. And there’s gilded four-wheeled chariots and coaches drawn by four or six horses wearing shiny silver-mounted harness. And they’re driven by bewigged black servants wearing colourful livery. And there’s glass enclosed sedan chairs carried by Negro slaves in splendid uniforms.’
Annabella could see it all. How exciting it sounded. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks glowed.
‘Aye,’ her father said with some satisfaction. ‘You’re more like yourself already.’
She favoured him with a happy smile.
‘Indeed, Papa, I feel prodigiously cheered. I thank you for bringing me.’
‘I have business to speak with the customs officer. He will be arriving soon. Away you go and have a look around. You can meet me later.’
‘Very well, Papa.’
The first thing she noticed was that the streets were infested with hogs and she was reminded of Edinburgh in this respect. But of course the Port of Glasgow was little more than a village compared with Edinburgh. The original village had been called Newark after the ancient Newark Castle. Then it grew to the New Port of Glasgow and eventually became known as Port Glasgow. The castle was a large turreted mansion with crow-stepped gables and cable mouldings and it sat right on the water’s edge.
An exhilarating breeze was gusting her curls about as she cantered along and she could see white horses foaming the water and merrily seesawing the ships. She had never felt so happy and alive for years.
She could hear sailors singing.
‘Now if you want a merchant ship to sail the seas at large,
You’ll not have any trouble if you have a good discharge,
Signed by the Board o’ Trade an’ everything exact,
For there’s nothin’ done on a Limejuice Ship contrary to the Act.
So haul, boys, your weather mainbrace and ease away your lee,
Hoist jibs and topsails, lads, an’ let the ship go free.
Hurrah, boys, hurrah; we’ll sing this Jubilee;
You can keep the Navy, boys, a Merchant Ship for me.
Gazing at the bobbing vessels in the bay she thought that here was the gateway to real adventure and a great longing came over her to dash aboard one of the ships and set sail for faraway, fantastic lands and a new and wondrously exciting life.
Once such a thought came into her mind there could be no denying it. She wanted to journey across the sea. She wanted to go to Virginia. She itched to put the thought immediately into action, but it was such a revolutionary idea that even she realised it would never come to pass unless she acquired patience and used all the womanly wiles at her disposal.
Her mind busied itself with plans. Instinctively she knew that this was one whim in which her father would not indulge her. But what if her husband decided to go to Virginia? Her father would not go against the minister. The more she thought about this, the more she was certain that her only chance lay through Mr Blackadder. But how to persuade Mr Blackadder to take such a giant step, that was the problem. Mr Blackadder did not even like going to Edinburgh and only stirred himself to face the journey because he felt it was his Christian duty to attend the Kirk Assembly.
Suddenly Annabella had the clue. If she could persuade the minister that it was his Christian duty to go to the New World …
Her heart raced with joy. Surely it was not beyond her intelligence to accomplish such a feat? She could hardly wait to get back to Glasgow and her husband. On the return journey, in fact, she whipped her horse into a lather until her father, barely able to keep up with her, lost his temper and bawled,
‘Damn it, Annabella, if you’re no’ at one extreme, you’re at the other. Compose yourself, woman, or I’ll take the whip to you.’
Never before had Mr Blackadder come home to such a good dinner or such a beautiful and charming wife.
The narrow lobby and the stairs had been washed and the bedroom floor was shining as well. A crisp white cloth graced the table and on top of it sparkled the best rice grain china and silver tea-service. The royal blue bedcurtains were looped back to reveal the bed resplendent with white satin bedcover.
A log fire blazed merrily and enclosed the room in a rosy hue. Annabella, magnificent in powdered wig and patches, tightly laced bodice and voluminous golden skirts, billowed into the room carrying a steaming dish of sheep’s head broth.
Mr Blackadder hardly noticed. He had been out late doing his rounds of visiting, catechising and questioning and he was fatigued and out of humour with his flock.
‘They’re an impudent, ungrateful bunch,’ he said.
‘Indeed they are, sir,’ Annabella agreed, depositing the dish on the table and making dash at Mr Blackadder to stuff another cushion behind his back. ‘They do not appreciate your prodigious talents.’
He slid her a look of surprise tinged with suspicion.
‘Uh-huh, aye, that’s true enough. Auld Mistress Logie was showing me the new horse on the farm and I heard her calling the beast Blackadder. When I questioned her about this, she had the temerity to say it was because it bore a distinct resemblance to me.’
With an almost superhuman effort, Annabella suppressed her hilarity and instead creased her face into what she hoped had an appearance of sympathy.
‘The woman’s in her dotage. Her farmer son should keep her locked in the house. She is a madwoman, sir, to talk in such a ridiculous way.’
‘Uh-huh, aye, weel. Mind you, it was a fine-looking beast.’
‘I do not know how you can thole them. You have the patience of a saint, Mr Blackadder.’
‘Uh-huh. Aye.’
‘They do not deserve you.’
‘Have you by any chance been having a wee tipple, Annabella?’
‘Why no, sir. I have been the whole day with my Papa.’
‘Oh aye. At Port Glasgow. And how did ye get on there?’
Annabella wiggled to the edge of her seat with enthusiasm, her golden dress shimmering in the firelight.
‘I was much intrigued with it, sir.’
‘Indeed. Uh-huh.’
She suddenly swooped up and across to the table.
‘Look what I have for you. Come do, sit in and enjoy it, Mr Blackadder. You will feel better after supping such a delicious broth.’ Then, no sooner had he taken the first sup, she burst once more into eager speech. ‘It is a wondrously beautiful place nestling at the foot of a green hill with sparkling water in front and purple and blue hills across the water and all around.’
‘You’d see the ships.’
‘Oh, I did, I did and it was a truly wondrous sight, Mr Blackadder. There was a prodigious number of seamen there too and they told of many fantastic adventures.’
‘Uh-huh. Aye, they can spin a yarn all right.’
‘They spoke much of Virginia and told of what a prodigiously beautiful place it was. Only I was disconcerted to hear that there are savages there.’
‘Aye, I’ve heard about them.’
‘Does that mean they do not know about The Word?’ she enquired, using his own phrase.
‘Aye, it does indeed.’
‘But that is terrible.’
‘Uh-huh.’ He supped his broth and smacked his lips over it in obvious enjoyment.
‘They say the settlers are little better. They perambulate on the Sabbath and comb their hair and cook their food and sing bawdy songs …’
‘Annabella!’ He banged down his spoon. ‘Control yourself! Don’t even think such wickedness.’
‘But they said …’
‘Wickedness! Wickedness!’ His voice rose, pulling him up from his seat.
She leapt to comfort him and push him back down.
‘I agree, sir. I agree, Oh, it is indeed too terrible to contemplate. They have not enough good men like yourself. That is the trouble with Virginia. God’s work is being monstrously neglected.’
Mr Blackadder was boiling with indignation on God’s behalf.
‘The wicked rascals. The sword of God’s wrath will smite them down. Come the terrible day of judgement they will be cast into the eternal fire.’
‘Ah, many’s the time I’ve heard you preach long and heavy on that very subject, Mr Blackadder. If only these terrible Virginians could have heard you. It might have been the saving of them. Let me help you to another bowl of broth.’
She did not press the subject of Virginia and the terrible sins committed there any further that evening but it kept cropping up on other occasions when they were in company or when they were on their own, until one day Mr Blackadder unthinkingly remarked,
‘I’ve a good mind to go over there and tell the sinners what I think of them.’
And Annabella immediately flung her arms round his neck and cried out,
‘Oh, Mr Blackadder, you’ve had the call. Rest assured, sir, that I will not shirk my duty. When you go to save the souls of the sinners in Virginia, I will be there by your side.’
‘Haud on a minute, Annabella,’ he cautioned, somewhat taken aback. ‘These things can’t be rushed into.’
‘I trust you to know your duty, sir, and have the courage to carry it out. You’ve never lacked a sense of duty or courage before.’
‘Uh-huh. Aye. But there’s other things to consider, Annabella. And other folk.’
‘I am not afraid to journey to the New World.’
‘But there’s wee Mungo.’
‘It will be a splendid new life for him. And when he gets older he can supervise Papa’s stores or whatever business Papa needs him to attend to in Virginia. What is there for him here?’
‘Och!’ Mr Blackadder had never looked more worried and uncertain. ‘But hang on a minute … hang on …’
‘And I know you have always had a prodigious concern for Mungo,’ Annabella said and gave him as passionate a kiss as she could muster.
Eventually he had been not so much persuaded as harassed into agreeing, and Annabella rushed around telling everyone the news that they were emigrating to Virginia. He had no sooner nodded his head when he was caught up in all the arrangements for leaving. There was so much to do he hardly had time to realise what he was doing.
Annabella flung herself into the business of packing and preparing for the journey with great zeal and energy. Sometimes, when Mr Blackadder was not there, she swirled around the room singing,
‘I’m going to Virginia! I’m going to Virginia!’
Nancy, who felt secretly disturbed by wild tales of cannibals and giant beasts, muttered dourly,
‘Maybe you’ll find more over there than you bargained for!’