By the Wind's Will

by Nat Burns

  Her mother smiled gently and smoothed the child’s hair. “‘Tis all right, my bonny baby, but don’t present your apologies to me. Rather you should give them to Fidelia. Dry your tears, love, make your apologies to Fidelia and then fetch thy brothers and sisters, they should be down for their naps now. Tell brother Charles that he may stay up if he wishes.”

  She turned her attention to Foxy. “And Fidelia, as your mother is indisposed, I shall give you a little advice, if you feel you absolutely must use the ocean to relieve yourself, please be more discreet. I feel sure that your parents would not approve of you doing it at all. Now, I must be off, you two make alliances and be friends again.”

  Foxy watched her walk across the deck toward the hold, carrying the sleeping infant, Daniel, and wondered at this beautiful, kind woman. She was indeed a treasure, never having a harsh word for anyone.

  Still almost a girl herself, she had yet born Charles Scott six children. Foxy had never heard her raise her voice in anger or strike at any of the six in all the time she’d known her. She was a tiny woman, scarcely five-foot-tall, just a slip of a girl, but she daily earned the respect and high regard of her husband and children by being the God-fearing, devoted, gentle woman she was. Now, as Foxy noted her still slim hips swaying beneath the long skirts, she felt a yearning deep within. She didn’t understand the feeling and it puzzled her. She pondered this a moment, dismissed it and turned to Maggie. She couldn’t suppress a chuckle when she saw her, for Maggie had drawn her knees up to her chin and was pouting in a thoroughly adorable way.

  “Well, where’s my apology?” She plopped down next to her, a wicked smile lighting her features.

  Maggie tucked her head even lower and scowled up at her. “I shan’t apologize to you, Foxy Nelson. I still feel what you did was awful, no matter what anyone says.”

  Foxy stuck her tongue out at Maggie and stretched out on the deck, A comfortable silence fell between them, only broken by the lap of the waves and the creaking of the ship. Foxy was almost asleep when she heard Maggie speak.

  “Foxy, are you very afraid of the colonies?”

  Foxy lifted herself to her elbows and squinted at Maggie. “What’s that you say?”

  Maggie blushed and looked away quickly. “I said, are you very afraid of the colonies?”

  “You must be daft! Why would anyone be afraid of the colonies?” She fell silent and thought a moment. “I guess I would be a tiny bit frightened if I wasn’t looking forward to it so much. Just think, Maggie. It will all be so new.” She glanced at the other girl sharply. “You’re a bit scared yourself, aren’t you?”

  Maggie lifted her face and let the cool breeze wash across it. “Not frightened, really. I think I’ll just miss home a little.”

  Foxy sat up and stared at her, aghast. “Miss home! What was so bloody good about home?”

  Maggie countered the question, suddenly angry. “Well, Foxy, we don’t know what’s so good about this Georgia, either, now, do we?”

  Foxy breathed an exasperated sigh. “That there’s the point, Maggie, we don’t know anything much about Georgia! Don’t you want to be adventurous? See what there is to be seen?”

  Maggie’s countenance brightened unexpectedly. “You know, Foxy, I was terribly troubled about not being presented at court and being brought out proper, but now I’m not. Papa told me that there is a much better way in the colonies. He says they have great parties where everybody dresses in their finest, but it’s more relaxed, not so formal or stiff. Much better, don’t you think?”

  Foxy wrinkled her nose at her. “I don’t much care for the fancy parties. I’d rather see the Indians and the swamp monsters!”

  “Oh, Foxy!” Maggie exclaimed angrily. “You have to go and spoil everything. I hope you do see an Indian and he scalps you!”

  She rose and, with a toss of her pretty curls, ran across the deck in search of her brothers and sisters.

  Chapter Four

  LATER THAT DAY, Foxy remembered Sammo’s query concerning her mother and decided to find out for herself how she was. Half afraid of what she would find, she descended the ladder into the hold, praying fervently that her mother wouldn’t still be angry with her as she had been that morning. Foxy had merely offered her a biscuit but the gesture had led to a new barrage of accusations.

  She skirted the partition that separated the men from the women and immediately heard a flurry of skirts being lowered over fulsome thighs and bodices being hastily buttoned. The stale stench of closely packed bodies was slightly less offensive on this, the women’s side, but the air was tinged with the strong smell of long unwashed baby linens.

  She spied her mother crouched in a far corner near Maggie’s mother and began to make her way toward her, ever conscious of the baleful stares directed her way from the hot, disheveled women. As she neared her mother, she stumbled upon a sleeping child who woke and began to scream in indignation. The mother, with such a look of hatred that Foxy cringed and stammered an apology, roughly snatched the child to her large bosom.

  Foxy finally gained her mother’s side with no further incident. After nodding politely to Maggie’s mother, she spoke to her own.

  “Hello, Mother, how are you faring the day?”

  Mary Nelson, more careless about her appearance than Foxy had ever witnessed in the whole of her life, turned jaundiced eyes upon her daughter. “The day, ha! Wot do you wan’, chil’? Do you wish to take somefing else fro’ me?”

  Taken aback by her sullenness, Foxy stammered a reply. “No—nothing, Ma. I just came to see you.”

  “See me? See me then. I be miserable, stuck in this stinkin’ ‘ole and do you know why I’m ’ere?” She pulled Foxy close, so close that she could smell her mother’s stale breath as she literally spat the words at her daughter.

  “It’s for you! Ain’t ‘at a lark? God ‘as forsaken me now and your favver is putting me t’rough this so’s ‘at you could have somefin’ to call your own. As if a girl child could ‘ave anyfing other than a ’usband. And that you could ‘ave found in good Mother England. Are ye proud about ’at? Are you glad the two of you ‘ave got your way? Hear me though, we could ‘ave lived a good life ‘ome with the money your father had ’idden. But no, ‘twas not to be! We had to come to some new, ‘eathen country and kill my dear movver in the moving.”

  Her face lit with a frightening fanaticism. “That’s what ye and you favver have become—murderers. Murderers, I tell you!”

  Her voice had risen to a thundering level and Foxy was highly embarrassed by the outburst in front of so many peering, curious women. Just as she wanted to melt into the floorboards, Mistress Scott thankfully intervened. Laying a soothing hand upon Mary, she loosened the woman’s iron grip from Foxy’s arm.

  “Now, Mary,” she began gently. “Calm down, now. You know ‘tisn’t true. Giles and sweet Fidelia here meant no harm to Mother Adams. Come, lie back and rest for a bit.” She leaned and stretched out Mary’s legs, quickly motioning for Foxy to leave.

  Once returned to the wind-buffeted deck, a much shaken Foxy leaned over the railing, afraid she was going to be sick. How could her mother have changed so? Back in England she had been a rather stiff yet loving person—but far removed from the screaming harridan she was now. Would she ever be the same again?

  She felt deflated, as if the meeting with her mother had drained her of some vital substance. She hung her head over the railing and the cool salt spray mingled with the hot saltiness of her tears.

  Chapter Five

  September 1750

  NEVER, AS LONG as she lived, would she forget her first sight of the new land. After nine long weeks aboard the cramped, stinking ship, Foxy was overjoyed to hear the much-awaited cry of land ho! Rushing up to the sun heated deck, she saw, gleaming in the daylight, something she fancied was heaven itself. Georgia, with its strange, skinny trees that reached for the sky, the land green and verdant, seemed alive and productive. The small harbor of the town called Savannah was teeming with lif
e as the many ships unloaded their cargo and passengers. The endless action, and the knowledge that this was a new beginning, combined to intoxicate her senses like a heady wine.

  They must have been a shoddy looking bunch that afternoon, the eleven of them, their paltry belongings slung over their backs as they walked down the central, packed-dirt lane. Foxy was to remember only the new sights and smells that assailed her. She tried, preserving her dignity, not to gape too childishly at the wide, spacious buildings they passed, but it was a futile attempt. She was overwhelmed by the prosperity apparent everywhere.

  The two families, Nelson, consisting of Foxy, her stocky father, Giles and mother Mary, and Scott, consisting of tall, thin Charles, his beautiful wife, Margaret, and their six offspring, entered the docking office just north of the landing point. From there, they went to the large general store, where Foxy and the Scott children wistfully eyed the jars of candy.

  Once inside, Charles walked purposefully to the wide counter. “Er—Pardon me, Sir.”

  The large, paunchy man behind the counter turned and eyed Charles warily. His gaze traveled over the many children close to him and his face softened. He replied jovially. “Yes, an’ wot can I do for you today?”

  Charles swallowed nervously, his Adam’s apple moving convulsively. “Hello. My name is Charles Scott and I’ve just now arrived off the good ship Kings Pride.” He reached in his pocket and drew out a badly crumpled sheet of paper. “I have here a note from His Majesty, granting me supplies.”

  The storekeeper took the proffered paper but didn’t even glance at it, instead he gave Charles a puzzled frown. “Are you Charles Allen Scott? Of London?”

  Charles, totally baffled, nodded his head. “That I am. Why do you ask?”

  The large man laughed heartily, his heavy jowls quivering with mirth. “Sorry, Guv’nor, didn’t mean to give you a fright. A man from the ship was ’ere a while ago asking for you, is aw.”

  Charles turned to Giles and shrugged then turned back to the storekeeper. “Whatever did he want?”

  “Now, I don’t rightly know; my boy was the one talking to him. If you like, and do not mind the wait, I can send the boy after him.”

  Charles looked questioningly at Giles and when the latter nodded, he replied. “Yes. Please do!”

  They waited, and Charles purchased a sweet for each of the children. Presently a chubby but richly dressed youth came through the door with the ship’s first mate in tow. The mate had a scowl on his face which dissipated quickly when he spied Charles. He pushed the boy aside and briskly crossed the room.

  “Sir!” he exclaimed loudly. “So glad to have found you. The Captain had orders from ‘is Majesty to present you with this missive before you disembarked ship. Unfortunately, in the rush of unloadin’, he forgot. He sent me to find you and until now I greatly feared that you ‘ad disappeared, and I would never locate you.”

  Charles, curious and impatient, interrupted brusquely. “Yes, yes, where is this missive, now that you’ve found me?”

  The mate reached into his breast pocket and produced a sealed envelope of the King’s stationary. He started to hand it to Charles but suddenly held back. “First, Sir, I must ascertain that you are truly Charles Allen Scott.”

  Charles responded indignantly. “Who the devil do you think I am, man? You saw me day after dreary day on that blasted vessel.”

  The mate flushed crimson and spoke with a bit less force. “But I didn’t...please, Sir, would you mind telling me what position you held while still living in the mother land?”

  Charles sighed, thoroughly exasperated. “I was chief scribe to His Majesty, King George. Now, will you give me the damned missive, or shall I take it from you?”

  The mate smiled broadly and, with a flourish, handed Charles the envelope. Charles took it from him and quickly scanned the sheet contained inside. Those gathered around him watched his face intently, searching for a clue as to what was in the letter. A worried frown creased his face and after a moment he turned to the shopkeeper.

  “How far upriver is the Finley place?”

  The shopkeeper looked startled and his reply was slow in coming. “Lor’, Sir, not far at aw. Old man Finley was head of the docking office and had to come into town quite of’fen. He’s passed on now an’ his family gone back to London. Why do you ask?”

  Charles gave a bitter little smile. “Seems as though I’m to take his position and his home by the King’s order, although he deems it a gift.”

  The man behind the counter gave a loud gasp. “Master Scott! Let me be the first to congratulate you. The Finley place is one of the grandest around. He was a very wealthy man, wot with the King’s stipend and the cotton crop. You ‘ave been honored. The King must fink ‘ighly of you.”

  Charles replied sadly. “Yes, I’m afraid a bit too much.”

  He turned to Giles with a pained expression. “Giles, let the good man here get your supplies together for you and then we’ll leave.” He brushed past the smiling first mate and went to stand outside.

  Later, after Charles had hired a wagon to carry their supplies, they set out for the Finley farm. Foxy sat at the front of the wagon bed, to better overhear anything said between Master Scott and her father. She was disappointed for during the first half of the journey there was only a profound silence between the two. Finally, just as Foxy had lost interest, Charles spoke haltingly.

  “I am sorry, Giles, but what could I do? You don’t very well say no to the king.”

  “We were goin’ to start anew togever, Charles. We were going to build side by side. ‘At’s why you said you wanted to leave England, so’s you could get out from under the King’s thumb. Now look, you are no bevver off ‘an befo’.” Her father bestowed a sorrowful glance on Master Scott.

  “No, Giles, I am better off. I don’t have to report to the old German every day and bow and scrape to him like a lap dog! Be assured, I don’t welcome this business any more than you do but it can’t be helped. He has bestowed a plantation and a position on me and I can’t do less than to accept it. I won’t be a rogue, for the king’s arm is long and I have eight others to think of beside myself. What would you have me do?”

  Giles nodded his head, agreeing. “Aye, Charles, what you say is true. You mus’ look out for ye’re wife and children. I’ll miss you, t’ough. I was lookin’ forward to workin’ togever to make our homes. There is much new an’ interesting to explore in this new world.”

  Charles turned to gape at Giles, an incredulous look on his face. “But, Giles, won’t you live with us?”

  Giles laughed. “Surely you’ve taken leave o’ ye’re senses. Live in ye’re house? I think not! You‘ve a half-dozen children and no doubt will need aw the room possible.”

  Charles smiled tightly. “We must stay close by one another. Mayhap we can find a nice spot on Finley’s land for you to build. I assure you there will be no debts beholding. I value your companionship and that is all I ask.”

  Foxy was not surprised to see her father’s face twisted with the first real stirring of anger. She easily guessed his thoughts— how dare this man who was no better than him offer charity? Her father said often that he wished to come to America, so he could own something and have something to leave her. In London the only thing she could hope to inherit was marriage to a dockhand for a few paltry shillings a week. Here in America maybe she could go to a real school and make a good, prosperous marriage for herself, or at least inherit property, land, from her father. But not if Charles had his way!

  Before her da could voice his thoughts, Charles spoke again,

  “I say let’s not talk of it any more today. You shall stay and help us get settled while you think on what you wish to do. Is that agreeable to you? We are all a trifle fatigued from the journey and no doubt the wife will welcome your lady’s help in setting up the household.”

  Giles nodded grumpily, and the rest of the trek was accomplished in the deepest silence. They discovered from a passing horseman t
hat they were almost upon the Finley plantation and soon were driving down a wide lane lined by trees on either side.

  Chapter Six

  A BURST OF chatter broke out among the children and women when the house came into view. It was overwhelmingly large but rather simple on the outside, with only white shutters and white columns as decoration. Charles was quite taken aback by the size but was relieved to find that it exuded a comfortable air. The grounds were well kept but not formalized and he hoped to find the interior the same. As they pulled up in front of the house, the door opened, and a casually dressed man appeared. The two families alighted, and the man descended the steps to greet them with warm good cheer.

  “Welcome, Sir! I am Horace Tewes, executor of this estate and temporary upkeep. Which of you men is Master Scott?”

  Charles extended his hand and replied with a quizzical expression. “l am, but how did you know I was coming?”

  Tewes smiled widely. “The keeper of the town store sent a rider posthaste so all could be ready for you. We are rather spread out here, but news has many wings.”

  Charles laughed and placed one hand on his chin. “I’m sure you’re right. How is it that we weren’t passed by the rider?”

  “Oh, ho!” Tewes sang out. “You have a lot to learn about Georgia. There are more back roads than main ones.”

  Charles turned to see that his family and the Nelsons had gathered behind him. “Master Tewes, may I present to you my good friend, Giles Nelson, his wife, Mary, and their daughter, Fidelia.”

  Tewes bowed over Mary’s hand and shook Giles’s hand warmly.

  Charles continued after the briefest of breaks. “This is my wife, Margaret, and our brood. The children are Margaret Sayers, the eldest, Charles Allen, my eldest son, Phillip Wayne, Elizabeth Grace, Wortham James, and the youngest, Daniel Windsor, there in his mother’s arms.”