Captured (23 page)

“Apparently.” Dominic wanted to drag the slave owner back and beat him to a pulp, but knew that wouldn’t help rescue Clare or her children. He’d been in a surly mood all day because of where Clare was, and he didn’t need his morals flayed by the likes of Sullivan. “Let’s get these items packed away and go find something to eat.”

“Excellent idea.”

After helping Violet prepare for bed, Clare changed into her nightclothes and waited for Violet to get into bed so she could douse the lights. Dot slept in the cellar with Birgit.

“Did he ravish you?” Violet asked.

Clare kept her face neutral. “Yes, Violet, he did.”

“Are you breeding?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you are, it goes on the block in Charleston as soon as it’s weaned. I’ll not have pirate get in my house. You may douse the light now.”

Clare extinguished the lamp and lay down on her pallet at the foot of the bed. In the darkness she wondered if she could be carrying Dominic’s child. The answer was yes, of course. The idea of giving birth to a free child would be something to celebrate, if she herself were free, but because she wasn’t, Violet’s warning sent a chill through her blood.

W

“You get that one,” Clare instructed her.

Dot struggled with the heavy bucket, but managed to get it back to the kitchen without sloshing too much of the water away on the journey.

The water was poured into the big black kettles and set on the fire. The household would use it for its morning chores, like washing up and the cleaning of the china and cutlery after breakfast. The kettles would be refilled as needed, but one was kept full, hot, and at the ready all day.

Leaving Birgit to begin breakfast, Clare and Dot went outdoors and swept the porch and the brick path that led to the house. With that done, it was time for chamber pots to be emptied and replenished with fresh water. It was not Clare’s favorite task.

After a thorough washing of their hands, they set the table for breakfast. According to Birgit, Victor would be joining his twin sister for the morning meal, so Clare and Dot set out plates and cutlery for them both. Once that was accomplished, Clare sent Dot down to the kitchen to eat and she went up to awaken Violet and help her dress. Clare and Violet had never been friends; Clare was her slave, after all, but in their early days together, she’d been kinder. Being left at the church’s altar on what was supposed to be one of the happiest days of a woman’s life, with all of Savannah’s society looking on, had changed her. She became bitter, self-centered, and mean; no one else mattered, and the Ancestors forbid anyone be happy in her presence. Growing up, Clare also got the impression that Violet was jealous of Clare’s quick mind. The wager that resulted in the two of them being educated together showed that Clare was not only bright, but considerably brighter than Violet.

Their morning routine rarely varied. Clare would wait for Violet to wash her face and such, then help her with her stays and then the gown. Hair would be done next, and after that Violet’s day would officially begin.

Violet had just taken a seat at the head of the table when her brother arrived at the front door. Clare ushered him in.

“Good morning, Clare. We’re pleased to have you back with us. Are you well?”

“I am.”

He greeted Violet with a kiss on her cheek and took his seat at the other end of the long table. Clare returned from the kitchen with a tray holding hominy, bacon, eggs, and biscuits. She set everything down as quietly and as quickly as she could.

“Clare, what would you do if you were free?” Victor asked.

She stopped.

Violet said dismissively, “Victor, what a ridiculous question.”

“No, it isn’t. I’d like to know if she’s ever thought about it.”

Violet, adding butter to her serving of hominy, scoffed. “Why would she think about something that will never happen?”

He looked at Clare. “Have you ever thought about it, Clare?”

“No,” she lied. “Your sister is correct. Why think on something that will never be? May I get you anything else?”

They both shook their heads. As she turned to go she could feel Victor’s eyes on her back but she didn’t acknowledge him as she exited.

When Dominic awakened that morning it took him a moment to get his bearings. He and the crew had taken rooms at one of the local boardinghouses, and at first the unfamiliar surroundings were confusing until he remembered where he was. His first thoughts were of Clare, just as she’d been in his final thoughts before sleep claimed him last night. In his mind’s eye he could see her beautiful smiling face, and he wondered how she’d fared her first day back in captivity. It was a given that no one had brought her breakfast, or drawn her a bath, or shown her how much she was loved. At the moment she was undoubtedly running from pillar to post in an attempt to complete all the tasks put to her by Violet Sullivan. Not having her by his side was like having a hole in his soul.

Around him the others were stirring awake. With all their goods now stored in the Calhoun livery, there was no need for anyone to stay with the ship. He nodded morning greetings to Richmond, Gaspar, Tait, and the rest, and once everyone was dressed and ready, headed downstairs to breakfast. The place was owned by a free Black woman named Jenny. According to her there was a small but vital group of free Blacks in the city of Savannah. Many of them were women and made their living doing laundry, cleaning homes, and offering other domestic services.

Downstairs she greeted them with a smile. She was tall and thin and wore a head wrap like many women of color, slave and free.

As she set the fare on the table she asked, “Will you be needing me for any more meals today, Captain?”

“Not if you have pressing business you need to take care of.”

“I do. I have to help out with the church. We Blacks have our own place of worship in Savannah.”

“Really? That’s not very common.”

“No it isn’t, and we are especially proud. Right now we’re allowed to worship on one of the local plantations but we plan to build a place soon with our own hands and using our own coin from folks both slave and free.”

“Then we shall arrange for meals elsewhere.”

“Thank you so much, Captain.”

“Tell me though. Do you know a White family named Hampton?”

“Mrs. Hampton, the dressmaker?”

Dominic shrugged. “I’m not sure of her calling.”

“She and her husband are the only ones I know with that name. They have a rice plantation about twelve miles from here.”

“Can you draw us a map? I’m told she may be interested in some of my merchandise.”

“Be glad to.”

A few moments later the map was drawn and Dominic and his friends left the boardinghouse. They drove back to the docks to drop off Esteban, Richmond, and Washington Julian, who would oversee the day’s selling, and left Tait with the sloop. Dominic, James, and Gaspar headed for the Hampton home.

Traveling by wagon down the poor excuse for a road, Dominic wondered if it was the same one Clare walked on Sundays to see her children. He could only imagine how tired she’d be after the journey there and back, but he was certain the weariness would be secondary to the joy generated by seeing her Sarah and Ben.

They found the house. Outside a little girl dressed in a black dress and white apron was sweeping the doorstep. When she looked up at the wagon’s approach, Dominic’s heart stopped. The small face was an exact copy of Clare’s.

James said quietly, “That has to be her, Captain. She looks just like a miniature of Miss Clare.”

“Aye,” Gaspar added with a smile. “She’s going to grow up and be a beauty just like her
maman
.”

Dominic continued to stare. The emotions filling him had no name. There stood Clare’s daughter, a little girl destined to be raised as his own. As she continued to look out at them from her side of the road, Dominic’s heart swelled. To keep himself from jumping out of the wagon and carrying her away, he said softly to Gaspar, “Drive on and head back.”

“What about the son?”

“We’ll figure out something in the next few days. I just wanted to make sure we knew the correct location of the house.”

As they drove away, the girl watched them for a moment, then resumed her sweeping.

Clare and Dot spent the morning on their hands and knees scrubbing floors. The lye and harsh soap in the water immediately took its toll on Clare’s hands and turned them red and raw. They’d healed up while she’d been on the island, but were now just as rough as they’d been before. “So, Dot. How did you wind up in Savannah?”

They were upstairs doing the floor in the hall.

“My parents went over to Dunmore two years ago and died on his ship of the pox.”

Lord Dunmore had been the royal governor of Virginia. In ’75, when the crown became desperate for men to aid the loyalists against the rebels, he’d issued a decree promising to free any slaves who joined his forces. Colonial slave owners were outraged, and in the areas where the captive population outnumbered the Whites they were terrified by thoughts of massive slave insurrections. According to the newspaper accounts Clare read at Teddy’s at the time, about eight hundred slaves officially answered the call. Three hundred were trained and outfitted in military uniforms with the words
Liberty to Slaves
inscribed over the breasts. They fought under the name of Lord Dunmore’s Ethiopian Regiment. They had limited battle success, but because Dunmore had been forced to flee Virginia and was doing his governing offshore, on a ship in the British fleet, he had no land base to house the volunteers or his regulars. The ships were overcrowded, food and supplies were at a minimum, and smallpox spread through the vessels like wildfire.

“After my parents died, me and a few others decided to take our chances in the swamps, but we were caught and I was sold again, this time to a woman in Charleston.”

“That didn’t go well?”

“At first it did, I suppose. But then, one day, I dropped a china plate setting the table for dinner and she spat in my face. I slapped her. She sold me that next day.”

Clare shook her head sadly and was about to comment when Violet called up to them. “Clare, leave the scrubbing to Dot. I’ll need you to help me dress in a few moments.”

It was almost dinnertime and she wondered why Violet needed to change her gown, but she did as she was told and went into Violet’s room to await further instruction.

Violet entered the room saying, “Teddy is having a dinner this evening to celebrate the rebels’ alliance with France. In order to continue the pretense of supporting the so-called patriots, Victor suggested I attend. Once I’m dressed, you get dressed, too.”

Clare was confused, “Why?”

“I’ll need someone to attend me while I’m there and because your Frenchman is supposed to be making an appearance as a representative of his country.”

“But why subject me to his presence knowing what I suffered?”

She offered a cold smile. “Because I can, dear Clare. Because I can. Now, get the blue gown for me. You’ll wear the green.”

Outwardly Clare showed no emotion but inside her heart soared at the idea of being able to see Dominic. For the first time in her life Clare was happy that Violet prided herself on being so mean-spirited.

Down on the docks, Dominic and his men prepared to close shop for the day. They’d done well. There were still enough small items like spices, stockings, cologne, kegged wine, and sets of china to last a long while. Residents of nearby Charleston were also venturing into Calhoun’s livery to buy from the Frenchmen.

In spite of the British ships looming off the coast, there were quite a few ships going in and out of the port. Most were loading up on rice, one of the area’s biggest exports. Male captives both young and old lined the ship’s ramps, moving the heavy bags along and dumping them into the holds.

Dominic was so busy watching the loading that he wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking and was almost bowled over by a young male slave straining behind a wheelbarrow loaded with bags of rice. In his trying to avoid Dominic, the wheelbarrow tipped before the young man could get it upright and some of the bags tumbled onto the wharf.

Dominic and his men sprang to his aid, hastily helping him right the wheelbarrow and restacking the bags. “My apologies for not watching where I was going,” Dominic offered genuinely.

The young man looked up into Dominic’s face out of Clare’s brown eyes, and Dominic’s heart stopped for the second time that day.

“Thank you, sirs,” the boy said.

Up ahead, a man standing on the ramp of one of the ships called out harshly, “Ben! Get a move on. This ship ain’t gonna wait all day!”

Having the identity confirmed only added to Dominic’s sense of shock. The boy set his feet and pushed the wheelbarrow down the dock.

Esteban said, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“That was Clare’s son.”

“What?”

They all turned.

Dominic was visibly shaken, but now he knew the faces of both of Clare’s children.

Teddy Sullivan had one of the largest homes in Savannah. Everyone knew where she stood on the war; she supported Washington and the rebels. Violet and Victor had been staunch loyalists during the crown’s control of Savannah, but now that the patriots held the city, they, like many other planters, were pretending publicly to embrace the Americans’ cause. Clare supposed it was a simple matter of survival since no one knew who would eventually win the war and everyone wanted to be on the side of the victors no matter the flag. So as she and Violet were driven up to the house by Victor, she saw the Black coachmen of most of Savannah’s wealthier citizens dropping off their owners and moving the vehicles into a field nearby.

“Looks like everyone is here,” Violet remarked.

“Seems that way,” Victor added.

“And as always we’re the only ones without a Black driver.”

His lips tightened. “Right again, Vi.”

Because of Victor’s gambling and his lack of business acumen, the Sullivans weren’t nearly half as wealthy as they once were. Since the death of their father five years ago, the rice plantation hadn’t turned a profit; the reason there were only a few servants in the house. The voyage to England this past April had been undertaken because Violet had been told via correspondence that her father’s late cousin had left her a bequest upon his death. And he had—a brooch. She’d been so furious she’d thrown the thing into the Thames. As it stood now, every bit of coin Victor didn’t gamble away went to satisfy Violet’s needs for gowns, silk stockings, and shoes, which left little for the plantation’s necessities like more field slaves, feed, and seed.

On the other hand, Teddy was one of the richest women in the colony. Because she was forbidden by law to own or sell property, her absent husband’s name was on the deed to her land, but it was she who oversaw her vast holdings, ran the day-to-day operations, and kept the ledgers. She also had over five hundred captives in her rice and indigo fields and a dozen or so working in her home. With so many servants about, Violet’s claim that she needed Clare to attend her this evening was a sham. Making Clare accompany her was nothing more than Violet wanting to place Clare in what Violet thought would be an uncomfortable situation.