Shifted By The Winds (64 page)

Collin chuckled. “Sure, we can keep it, but I don’t know about everybody else.”

“Everybody else?” Carrie asked as she gazed around. For the first time she noticed the group of children clustered on the side of the road keeping pace with the wagon as it inched forward. She waved, laughing with joy when they erupted into wild waving of their own. She was so glad she had come.

“There was a whole bunch of us seen you drive in,” Collin confessed. “Sonya and I drew the long straws for the right to come welcome you back. Miss Biddy would have had our hides if we had all run out into the street at the same time.” He looked over his shoulder, his brown eyes dancing with mischief. “I don’t reckon I know
what
the others are doing. There is some of them that aren’t on the side of the road anymore, though…”

Carrie laughed, certain their arrival was no longer a secret, but she didn’t care. Just being back there was enough joy. “I’ve missed you all.”

“We’ve missed you, too,” Sonya said shyly, her blue eyes peering up through a curly mop of red hair. “Miss Carolyn comes to check on us, but she’s not as pretty as you are.”

“Thank you, Sonya.” Carrie’s heart melted. Sonya’s father had died in the cholera hospital before she had arrived to help. She had saved Sonya’s mother and brother, but she knew things must be especially difficult for them. The girl’s father had not made much money at the docks, but at least it had been something. Carrie could hardly imagine how they would manage through the cold winter that was about to take Philadelphia in its grip. Her determination to make sure the factory was built was stronger than ever. A glance at Abby’s face told her she felt the same way.

Carrie motioned for Michael to stop the carriage that had been barely inching forward. She patted the seat next to her. “Why don’t you and Collin join us for the last part of the ride?”

“Really?” Collin cried, scrambling up as soon as she issued the invitation. Sonya stared at her wide-eyed for a long moment and then climbed up just as quickly, snuggling next to Carrie as soon as she reached her.

Carrie pulled Sonya close and tucked the blanket around her, appalled by how little protection the little girl’s flimsy coat must offer. Suddenly she knew how she was going to spend her last week in Philadelphia.

The traffic cleared for a few minutes, allowing Michael the chance to navigate the last few blocks. Carrie was not surprised when she saw both Biddy and Faith peering out the windows. She waved wildly, climbing down after Sonya and Collin leapt to the street flashing triumphant grins as they ran over to join their friends.

“They are going to be the heroes today,” Abby said with a chuckle. She stepped down from the carriage with Michael’s assistance. “I’m sure every one of them would have given up all their marbles to ride in the carriage with you.”

“That they would,” Michael agreed. “Almost all of them had someone in their family who would have died without Carrie or Carolyn.”

Carrie glowed with satisfaction, but she was eager to get inside and visit with Biddy and Faith. “Will you be down at the pub?”

“Aye, that I will,” Michael answered. “I’ll be keeping warm until you’re ready to be going home. Send someone down to get me.”

Carrie nodded, tucked her hand in Abby’s arm, and walked up the steps. The door opened almost immediately, a warm blast of air reaching out to grab them. She knew Biddy must pay dearly for wood and oil to keep the house warm. She was glad it was not a problem.

Faith stood in the doorway, a wide smile on her face as she reached out to grab Carrie’s hand, and then reached over to grip one of Abby’s. “If the two of you aren’t a sight for sore eyes!” she exclaimed. She pulled both of them into the foyer and quickly closed the door to shut out the chilling cold.

“Don’t you say another word until you have those two women back in this parlor,” Biddy called.

Faith shrugged her shoulders as she lifted her eyebrows. “She made me promise.”

Carrie laughed and hurried down the hallway. She felt a surge of relief as she took in the woman grinning up at her, her snapping blue eyes as alert as ever. “Biddy!”

“It’s about time you got back here,” Biddy said, her voice gruff with emotion as she grasped Carrie’s hands.

Carrie felt another surge of gratitude for Abby urging her to return. It was important she explain her reasons for staying on the plantation in person—at least as much as she understood them. “I missed you, Biddy,” she said as she encircled the tiny lady with her arms.

“I missed you too, girl,” Biddy murmured as she patted Carrie’s shoulder. “Now, am I really seeing Abby Livingston in my parlor? I mean Abby Cromwell,” she corrected. “I was certain I would never see you again.”

“I was so excited when Carrie told me who her new friends were,” Abby said as she moved forward to take Biddy’s hand, her other hand reaching out to grasp Faith’s. “I’ve never forgotten you and Faith. How are you?”

“Better than most ninety-seven-year-olds can say,” Biddy quipped.

“That’s because most ninety-seven-year-olds are in the grave,” Faith observed.

Carrie grinned as laughter rang through the parlor.

“So you’re a Rebel now, are you?” Biddy asked Abby.

“I prefer to say I’m a transplanted liberal woman,” Abby responded. “I’ve learned it’s better not to apply labels like ‘Rebel’ and ‘Yankee’ to people.”

Faith snorted. “Calling yourself a liberal woman might just be the most dangerous label of them all.”

Abby nodded. “Perhaps, but at least it doesn’t bring up discussions of the war. Most of my neighbors seem to have either forgotten where I’ve come from, or they have simply chosen to forgive me for my Yankee ways.”

“That would be wise,” Biddy said. “Carrie has told us your factory is the most successful in Richmond. I imagine most of your neighbors have someone in their family benefitting from the factory. That seems to promote forgiveness,” she added.

“There is that,” Abby agreed, smiling when laughter erupted again.

Carrie caught her eye, but Abby shook her head slightly. Obviously, she wasn’t yet ready to talk about the other reason for their visit. Carrie was happy to allow her to decide the timing. She was impatient to tell Biddy, but she had to give Abby the lead in the conversation since it was her factory that was being built. There were plenty of other things to talk about.

“So you’re going to keep it to yourself for now?” Biddy asked, her eyes glinting with humor.

Carrie was not surprised Biddy had noticed their exchange. Her eyes didn’t miss much.

“If you don’t mind,” Abby replied.

Biddy nodded. “It’s not a problem. Michael is probably down at the pub, but I figure I won’t be sending one of the children down to call for him until I know all the reasons for your visit.”

Abby laughed. “That’s a deal.” She lifted her nose. “I do believe I smell oatmeal cookies,” she said hopefully. “Annie and May have learned to make them since Carrie sent the recipe home, but I suspect yours are even better, Faith.”

“They’d better be,” Faith sniffed. “I don’t believe it’s possible for a southerner to cook Irish oatmeal cookies as well as I do.”

“Sometimes she forgets she’s black,” Biddy whispered dramatically. “I’ve decided it’s best not to remind her if I want the cookies to keep coming.”

Faith laughed along with them before she disappeared into the kitchen. She returned moments later with a large platter that held a basket of warm cookies and tea service for four. “It helped that the children provided advance notice of your arrival,” she said. “I had everything ready before you got here.”

Carrie sighed happily as she bit into the cookie. “I’ll never tell Annie your cookies are better than hers, but…”

“It’s best not to compare one woman’s cooking to another,” Faith agreed. “It will be our little secret.”

Carrie grinned and sipped her tea, relishing the companionable silence that fell over the room for a few minutes. Then she decided that if they weren’t going to talk about the factory, it was high time she heard the rest of Faith’s story. “Faith, in the midst of the cholera epidemic, we never had a chance to talk about
your
story. I’ve wanted to hear it so badly. Abby knows Biddy’s story because I told her about it, but I would dearly love for us to hear yours.”

“I guess since you saved my life, the least I can do is tell you my story. It’s not one I’m proud of, but all of us have learned we are given the privilege of knowing so that we can make a difference with the knowledge. I’ve made peace with it.”

Biddy smiled. “Ardan came in and added wood to the fire right before you arrived. We’re good for a while.” She settled back against her chair and pulled the thick quilt wrapped around her a little closer. “It’s time you learned some more of the truth about what has happened in this country.”

Faith poured herself another cup of tea and took a bite of her cookie, chewing thoughtfully as she sat back and gazed at the flickering flames. When she had swallowed her bite, she began. “Sometime back in 1619, the Portuguese ship
Sao Jogo Bautista
set sail from the colony of Angola with three hundred fifty African slaves destined for Veracruz, New Spain.”

Carrie had no idea what she was talking about. “I’m lost already. New Spain? Slaves in 1619?”

“New Spain gained its independence in 1821. It is now known as Mexico,” Faith explained.

“But slaves?” Carrie asked.

“Slavery did not originate in America,” Faith said. “Let me tell my story. I believe it will answer your questions.”

“Of course,” Carrie said quickly. “I promise to not interrupt again.”

Biddy snorted. “I think you told me the same thing.”

“It didn’t work out that way?” Abby guessed.

Carrie laughed when Biddy shrugged. “I’m not old enough to have learned all the patience the rest of
you
have.”

Abby raised a brow. “I do believe Carrie just called us all
old
.”

Carrie held up her hands in defeat as Biddy and Faith nodded solemn agreement. “Not another word, I promise. I don’t stand a chance against the three of you.”

Biddy looked at Abby. “The child is gaining wisdom. I believe there is hope for her yet.”

“There just might be,” Abby responded playfully.

Carrie opened her mouth to respond, but snapped it shut and looked at Faith meaningfully.

Faith smiled and continued. “Back to the slave ship. It turns out that when they arrived in New Spain, they were short about fifty slaves. History tells us that English privateers attacked and plundered the boats. The boat’s captain, John Colyn Jope, had a letter of marque that gave him permission from the Dutch government to attack and plunder Spanish ships.”

Carrie’s eyes widened as she envisioned the battle at sea and the terror the slaves must have felt as they were helplessly shackled in the hold. Her heart felt heavy as she was reminded of how many humans were seen as nothing more than property. She had so many questions, but she was determined to keep her promise to just listen.

“One of the English ships was called the
White Lion
. They carried about twenty of the slaves they had stolen. They immediately set sail for Virginia, landing at Point Comfort. We know it now as Fort Monroe. The crew aboard the
White Lion
was low on supplies, so they sold the slaves for enough food to continue their journey.” Faith paused, remembering. “One of the men sold as a servant was called Antonio. He was my great-great-great-grandfather.”

Carrie gaped at her but remembered to stay silent.

“Antonio was sent to work for a very devout Puritan named Edward Bennett, who was also a very wealthy ship owner,” Faith continued. “Antonio worked the tobacco fields, but in February of 1622 he and fifty other servants were sent to clear the woods for a plantation that was to be called Bennett’s Welcome. One month later, before a palisade could be built, the Powhatan Confederacy launched what we now know as the Good Friday massacre. Antonio was one of only twelve who survived the attack by the Opechancanough Indians. Twelve years later he was given his freedom. He married a woman named Mary, and they began calling themselves Anthony and Mary Johnson. They moved to Northampton County on the Eastern Shore, where they raised four children and accumulated two hundred fifty acres of land. By the time their boys were grown, and had bought land of their own, they had over a thousand acres.”

So far, Carrie had heard nothing that should give Faith anything but intense pride in her heritage. Anthony Johnson had survived against incredible odds and had managed to create a life of freedom for himself and his family. She leaned forward, certain there was more to the story.

Faith rewarded her with a warm smile before she went on. “My grandfather Anthony became successful enough to start buying servants of his own,” she said sadly. “He bought several slaves—both black and white.”

Carrie was shocked, but she remembered that Sam had told her if he had the opportunity, he would probably own slaves himself. Sam had insisted owning slaves had nothing to do with color. It was about power.

Faith nodded. “Grandfather Anthony completely adopted the ways of Virginia planters. Perhaps the only thing that made him stand out was that his holdings were eventually given the name Angola—a tribute to his true heritage. Anyway, the story doesn’t end there. Up to that point, in spite of the reality of the situation, it was at least stated that all indentured servants would have the opportunity for freedom at some point in their lives. My grandfather helped change that.”