by H D Coulter
JOSHUA GLIDED UP TO the stables with a grin on his face, smiling at each person who passed him. Six months ago, he wouldn’t have believed that he could be this content. Beacon Hill was providing the fresh start he had dreamt of, and Bea was his once more.
“Morning George.” Joshua tapped the desk of his clerk jauntily and made his way into his office.
“Morning sir, you seem rather happy today!”
“I am George, I am - can you bring through today’s list?”
“Yes, sir.” George quickly shuffled back to his desk and placed the desired paperwork directly into Joshua’s outstretched hand.
“Thank you.” Joshua glanced down at the day’s appointments. “George, wait a moment. What is this? I have an appointment with Mr Lowell?”
“Yes, sir. I received a letter from Mr Lowell yesterday requesting a meeting and you had an opening in your diary today, so I sent word back.”
“Without speaking to me first?”
“Forgive me, sir. I know he is an important figure. My father has told me there are certain men you cannot leave waiting.”
“Your father is probably right, George, but that doesn’t furnish me with any time to assemble that last quarter’s figures – or enlighten me as to what the meeting is about?”
“.... No, sir...”,
“Fine, fine. I am sure I can answer his most likely questions. Can you fetch me some coffee, please?”
“Yes, sir.” George almost ran out of the office, eager to soothe his agitated superior.
Mr Goldstein had introduced Joshua to Mr Lowell at the gala. He was an independent shareholder and business-owner in the Northlink Railroad Company. But what did that have to do with him? He knew little about the railroad, only that it was used to transport goods from mine and quarries to canals, and the potential it would likely prove to show in the coming years, in terms of trade expansion.
George came back in, carefully carrying a cup of coffee. “Anything else I can help with, sir?”
“No, that’s all George - thank you.”
AS HOURS PASSED BY, the early morning events evaporated from Joshua’s mind, so much so that when a sharp knock on the office door came at lunchtime, the sound made him jump, and a small knot of tension tightened in his stomach for a moment, before he remembered his surprise engagement, and stood up hastily. He pulled his golden pocket watch out and stared at the time; he was five minutes early. “Yes?”
“Sir, Mr Lowell has arrived.” George popped his head around the door, bearing an encouraging smile.
“Very good, send him up, please.”
Joshua heard George shuffle off back down the corridor, followed swiftly by the firm tread of a second set of footsteps approaching his office. Joshua strode around the desk to greet his guest, one hand extended, the other clasping the documents in which he had been absorbed in moments before.
“Mr Mason, - Mr Lowell.” George gestured back and forth between the men.
“Good afternoon Mr Lowell; thank you George.” Joshua gave him a wink, showing they should not be disturbed, and the clerk closed the door behind him with a nod.
“Thank you for making the time, Mr Mason.”
Joshua made his way back behind the desk and took a seat, gesturing Mr Lowell to do the same. “Of course, Sir - what can I help you with today?”
His finely tailored suit emphasised his narrow frame and sharp facial features amongst his sleek white hair. His overall appearance suggested wealth and around Beacon Hill, that meant power. He peered over his spectacles, gazing around the sparse room. He held a blank expression at the simple wooden chair in front of the desk. Upon sitting down, he hiked up his trousers a little; something Joshua’s father used to do. Joshua smiled slightly, then the smile fell into a slight frown. “Well indeed, it is more of a question of how I can help you.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”
Mr Lowell leaned back, then crossed his right leg over his left. “Mr Goldstein has been telling me for a while about your hard work and talent for management. After meeting you at the gala, I thought you might be the right man for a job.”
“Forgive me, Mr Lowell, but I already have a job with Mr Goldstein...” Joshua felt uncomfortable at openly discussing other prospects at the expense of his current employer, no matter how intrigued he was by the offer.
Mr Lowell gave Joshua a half smile. “Your loyalty does you credit, Mr Mason, but I do not think you fully understand me. I have already put my ideas across to Mr Goldstein and he agrees. We would have you join with our responsibilities.”
“.... I see... and what would you be asking of me?”
“We have, as you know, developed a railway system to transport goods to and from the canal, but I believe there is much more we can achieve.” His hands skimmed through the air as if telling the story. “I see the railroad spreading across Massachusetts, linking towns, cities, and states, instead of mere water ways. We want to create a new division called the Eastcoast Railroad Company.” Once finished, he folded his hands on to his lap once more.
“It would change the very bones of the way our people travel – and revolutionise the concept of distance! Goods could travel right across the country from north to south.”
“Precisely. The goods on Mr Goldstein’s ships would not stop in Boston. They would travel across the states as far as Washington DC, and South Carolina. The stock would arrive there far more easily than it does via the coast by ship.” Joshua rose from his seat and paced up and down behind the desk, only half-aware of his actions.
“That would be years away... but it would change how we conducted business... it would change everything... As for the cost... well... prohibitive at first, it would require extensive investment, but-” Mr Lowell cut in.
“I knew you would be the right man for the job! And you are right; we are years away from achieving that goal, but we have already started work in Massachusetts. We are determined to make this American dream a reality – and a prosperous one at that.”
“Forgive me, sir, but... you have communicated no details of what this proposed job would entail.” Joshua paused.
“Come round to the offices next week, and we can talk prospects; both of work and salary.”
“I will, sir, and - I thank you. I am more than eager to hear you expand on these innovative particulars.” Joshua grinned like an excited schoolboy.
“Capital, capital. Well, Mason, I’ll be off.”
“Thank you again, Mr Lowell.” They shook hands once more, and almost without prompting, the office door opened. “Good day, sir.”
Mr Lowell nodded his head with approval before he exited the room. “Good day, Mr Mason.”
Joshua lowered himself back into his chair once George had shut the door behind the unexpected new sponsor. He was surprised and giddy at the concept of a new adventure. Certainly, he had heard wondrous things about the railroad, and had tried to talk to his father into investing in it years ago, but his idea was quickly dismissed, and just as quickly discouraged. And now, the manager of an established Boston railroad company wanted him to take part in the very beginnings of a grand new venture. But... to do what? He decided not to tell Bea of his good fortune until they settled more details and outlined the final demands on his time and person. But the idea of earning more money, to rent or possibly buy a bigger property, and gain a part of the life he had lost after their departure from England was tantalising. He was sure Bea too would appreciate the chances it would give Grace and their future children. He spent the rest of his afternoon dreaming of the security, excitement, and opportunities Mr Lowell’s nascent railroad might afford them.
Chapter 17
May 1819, North Carolina.
THAT NIGHT THEY TOOK what they could, packed a few pieces of clothes and stored food. They told no one, knowing better what might happen to any informed persons when the managers came looking. Hercules had made a piece of cloth into a bag, and taking one last look through the door of their hut,
he slung it over his shoulder and grabbed hold of Jessie’s hand. The stepping was hard at first as they made their way through the nearby woods, with only the crescent moon lighting the way. Yet years of skimming his fingers across the forbidden map gave Hercules a sense of direction, stopping them both once in a while to stare at the stars, and then moving on. Even when her aching feet turned into a mass of blisters, rubbing raw on her oversized shoes, Jessie kept on moving.
But as the sun rose, they knew, despite everything, they were running out of time. With a full day’s travel ahead before they reached the first so-called station, they needed to keep out of sight. The heat was already beating down. Sweat glistened across her forehead and trickled down her back. Mud stuck to her skin as they shuffled through the undergrowth beside the main road, pausing their steps, holding their breath when there was any sound from above. It didn’t matter whether it was a catcher or a traveller, either would have handed them in. She saw Hercules close his eyes for a moment, and then he raised his head.
“This way.” He took hold of Jessie’s hand and darted across the road to a clearing on the other side. “We must go down to the river, to cross.”
“To swim?”
“It hasn’t rained in days; the river will be low enough to wade through.”
There was no other choice. Time was running out.
At first, the sounds were faint, but as they came closer, a deep low growl precluded the high-pitched yelps and they knew the dogs had caught their scent. Hercules dropped the cloth bag, and they ran as fast as their broken bodies would allow.
Through the trees, the river appeared in a blinding, frothing roar. It was faster and fuller than expected, but now there was no other option: risk drowning in the river or caught by the dogs.
Hercules held Jessie’s hand as he lowered her into the raging current. The icy water shocked her voice out of her as she gasped involuntarily. The power of the water was strong against her tired legs, but she pushed forward, full of fury. She expected to hear another splash behind her as Hercules’ body hit the surface. Instead, she heard excited growls, followed by thrashing water.
“He got one – good boy, Lucifer!”
Jessie turned round and saw Hercules up to his waist in the water, with a dog hanging on his arm, refusing to let go. Four men on horseback, the omen for the end, called out in celebration, watching the show. Another dog jumped up and caught Hercules’s other arm as he tried to punch the first dog, causing him to lose his balance and fall sideways onto the riverbank.
“GO!”
But she could not move. The horror of watching her only remaining loved one pinned to the ground, fighting for his life, caused her to freeze. Does she stay and fight or run and leave him behind?
“She’s in the river...” one man called out.
“Jessie... Run...” Hercules bellowed.
Jessie turned back downstream, shutting her mind away, and forcing the dark pain searing through her heart down into her legs. Drowning alone would be better than the dogs. Without a last kiss, a farewell, or the chance to mourn, Jessie forced her feet to move. She scrambled up the muddy bank on the far side and tried to ignore her husband’s screams. She ran.
Across the fields and forward, not knowing the way without him. Least of all, where the station was, or the identity of the conductor. To trust a white man seemed impossible. What would this benevolent creature look like?
She heard heavy footsteps running behind her all too soon, mixed in with heavy breathing. She needed to hide, wait him out until he lost her tracks, and then at night use the north star as her guide. Before she knew it, though, the footsteps were directly behind her, and with one swift move she was on the ground. And the man who had visited her in the night was now hitting her across the face in rage. Jamison’s lip curled up at the side where the red scar touched his cheekbone as he sneered in delight. Again and again her face was slammed into the hard, dry earth, and she tasted the hot metallic liquid at the back of her mouth before the sky turned black.
HER FACE SWOLLEN, BLOODY, and purple. She stood there naked for all to see. Standing in a line of people, all ages and sizes, were exhibited before the crowd to be bought and sold like cattle. Numb, lost, and broken, they stared ahead with wide eyes. In her heart, Jessie knew he was dead, and now she was, too.
SHE HAD BEEN AT HER new plantation, Drayton Hall, Georgia, for a year. But it was like all the other plantations and masters in this godforsaken land. The hut was her prison once again, alone and void of thought or feeling. And yet, when the knock came, her stomach lurched.
“Jessie.”
“Gabby?” She opened the door to find a woman not two years younger than herself hovering in the doorway. Her filthy clothes hung off her skinny body, with a fabric belt tied around the middle to keep her skirt up. The only item of clothing she kept clean was the head wrap that was her mama’s, filled with reds, oranges, and yellows. The colours of a Malinke sunset, her mama told her as she whispered bedtime stories of their homeland when she was little.
“May I come in?”
“He’s on his way - he can’t find you here.” Jessie peered behind her into the clearing for a sight of him.
“I’ll be quick.” Gabby shut the door behind herself and stood in the dark hut. “Where’s your candles?”
“Better without.”
Gabby gave her a knowing nod. “Jessie... have you heard of a... a railroad?”
“Railroad?” She rolled her eyes at whatever this new nonsense was.
Gabby lowered her head and voice, just in case the hut had ears. “A secret railroad.”
“Gabby - please... I don’t have time for this...” Jessie moved past her and was about to open the door.
“A man asked... he asked if I might want to travel along it. To find a new life.” Gabby didn’t have what people called smarts. She was kind enough, but simple.
“Well, that ain’t making sense. Find me after and don’t you go talking to any sort o’ a man.” Jessie tried to push her back towards the door but she was wasn’t moving.
“Wait...” Gabby nudged Jessies hand away and gave her one of her serious looks. “He called himself a conductor... what’s one of those?”
Hercules’s words flashed back into her head, and all their past terrors with it.
“It’s a lost cause – forget about this man, and them words he said to you.”
“But... Jessie... life here is hard and what if there is a way out?”
“It’s not living, it’s surviving, and it’s better than what happens if they catch you thinkin’ thoughts like that. Now go.” Jessie opened the door for her and saw a figure approaching in the dusk. “He’s coming, go – now!” Jessie shoved Gabby out the door, causing her to stumble backwards. “I’ll find you, after.”
The walls inside her mind fractured. Tiny segments spilled out, filling her heart and her belly with all she had lost. She couldn’t let Gabby go through that; they would catch her for certain.
“Survival ain’t enough Jessie; we deserve to live. To be without fear, without pain, to be seen, walking down the road as a man, instead of cattle at market. To fall in love with a woman without knowin’ that another has the right to come knockin’ once a month. To earn a wage, to make a home, not squat like an animal in its hut. If that life, why live at all? If we are to live, we need freedom - we must live free, or die trying.”
Hercules’s words rang out as clear as if he was standing next to her once more, holding her hand, pleading with her not to let go. But she had let go, and she had stopped living. She had become trapped in a bitter, angry shell of survival, and she knew how disappointed he would be in her for it. What was the point of running now? What was there to live for, if not for her man and their child?
Sunlight streamed into the hut at the arrival of her new monthly visitor. As he walked past her, she paused for a few seconds, allowing the heat of the sun to sink into her dark, honey skin, and relight a little of the fire inside herself.
>
“I don’t have long today. Bend over.”
As she lifted her skirts and closed off her mind, she saw herself running free from him, and taking the hands of her beloved husband and child spirits, all three of them walking through golden fields together into the promised land.
Chapter 18
October 1832 Beacon Hill.
LIFE IN BEACON HILL felt like home now. Bea was falling in love with Joshua more each day, spending her nights wrapped in his arms with Grace asleep in her cot. They were the family she had dreamt of. During the day he was busier at work, rushing out the house in the early morning and not arriving back until late, but he had a spring in his step she had never seen before. In the past month, Bea herself had attended a further two abolitionist meetings, listening to the stories of free slaves and the fight in front of them. It felt like she had finally discovered the part of her that was missing. For once, she was whole. There had been a fragment of this sensation sitting outside the Bay Horse last year, waiting for her father. She understood why he took the risk he did for the Reformers; it was the same fire, a spirit which flowed through from her Da, and she felt a connection to him once more. And yet, she hadn’t told Joshua about the African Meeting house. Something inside her was preventing the confidence; a secret desire for this venture to remain between her and Sarah for now, for fear he might not understand.
“I’m heading out.” Beth poked her head around the sitting-room door.
“Attending the girls’ school?” Bea called out as the head disappeared.
“Yes - I shouldn’t be long. I am meeting Rose there.” She came back through into the sitting room with her new autumn cloak and bonnet Bea had bought her, almost matching the colour of the fallen Boston leaves. “They need help for a few hours this afternoon. I can’t read and write like you can, but I can help teach sewing and prepare some for service. It can be a good life, if you have the mind for it.”
