Freddy could not sleep. The others had been slumbering for hours. When Kofi began to fuss on the bunk, she put him back in his sling. The stuffy cabin was still dark, but Freddy tiptoed to the windows and eased one open. Breathing in the fresh night air, she heard Colin's deep voice directly above. She wondered if he was badly hurt. Needing to see his condition for herself, she felt her way to the door and down the passageway.
Emerging into the ocean breeze, Freddy lifted her face and inhaled deeply. The sails rustled as the sloop surged through waves that slapped its sides. She leaned against the stern castle, lightly rubbing the babe's back. After a moment she could make out the white shape of the mainsail as it snapped and billowed. Again she heard the humming of soft voices from the quarterdeck. Wrapping her arms protectively around Kofi's warm body, she made her way to the stairs and crept up them. In the dark she could see that Colin's arm was wrapped in something white, and his head sported a white bandage. He and Father Tomas stood at the rail, keeping watch.
Freddy cleared her throat and both men whirled around.
"Ah, it's you." The priest walked over and grabbed her hands. "We're on our way, my dear!"
"I can scarcely believe it," she murmured. "Colin, I had to see how you fared."
"I'm not feedin' the fish yet," he reassured her, grinning. With his good arm Colin lifted the spyglass and scanned the horizon to the east. "We are making good progress and—Jaysus!"
"What?" the priest whispered breathlessly.
"Two spots of light."
"I see nothing." Father Tomas made a brisk Sign of the Cross. Freddy's scalp prickled with fear.
Colin stood motionless and silent, watching. When he exhaled, so did they. "They move toward Bridgetown." He lowered the spyglass but kept his eyes on the shore. "Night patrol. But no cannon, no flares, no ships."
Looking to the east, Freddy could not make out any lights.
"I have a mighty thirst," Colin murmured. "Wait here…"
He returned quickly and poured something into three mugs. "Grog," he mumbled, handing them drinks.
"To freedom and to you, my friends." Freddy held her pewter mug high, her eyes tearing again, and sipped the tasty mix of rum, water, sugar, and nutmeg.
"Excellent." Father Tomas propped one foot on the rail. "Colin was telling me about the sloop…"
"She's as sound as they come. She'll outrun anyone and hide in shallows others dare not navigate."
"First rate," Father Tomas commented.
Colin took a long drink and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. His loose white shirt fluttered in the breeze. He wore no bandana this night, nor earring. The flintlock pistol was back in his waistband.
"God love ye, Colin," the priest was saying, "for delivering me to Montserrat, where I can work among the faithful. The curse of it, though, is bidding farewell to the two of you…"
"Father," Colin replied, "come with us to the Virginia Colony." Freddy nodded. "Please reconsider…"
"Ah, bless ye both. But the Irish on Montserrat are in sore need of their priests."
"That they are," Colin admitted.
"I'm worn out," Father Tomas said. "I must find a hammock before I fall down. Good night."
"Good night, Father," they said in unison.
Colin scanned the sea all around. "More grog?"
"Don't mind if I do."
"To our enemies' enemies!" Colin clinked his mug against hers with a flourish.
"It's lovely out here, with only the stars for company." Once more she lifted her gaze to the stream of celestial glory overhead. "It looks like eternity…"
They stared at the starry cloud arcing overhead. Colin returned to scanning the water for signs of trouble, but Freddy kept her eyes fixed on the misty heavens. Even with no moon, the sky had just enough light to be reflected in the serene sea. Never would she forget this night of brilliant stars.
Spirited away. But this time Freddy and Colin were doing the spiriting, worlds away from Galway Bay. No longer was she the girl easily tricked by a rogue offering papaya sweetmeats. She was a woman who had endured slavery and loss and love and loss again, a woman whose eyes had been opened.
Colin gently picked up a windblown strand of hair from her forehead and smoothed it back. "Freddy, do you remember that night when you and Birdie saved my life?"
She nodded, turning toward him.
"This night you have the same sparkle in your eyes."
Just then the babe stirred and let out a hearty gurgle. Colin leaned forward to get a closer look at the infant.
"How old is he?" he asked in a hushed voice.
"Just six months."
Colin stroked the babe's cheek with his knuckle. "You said he is named Kofi, after his African father…"
"Yes. I was assigned to live with him and produce mulatto slaves." In the warm night wind, more tendrils of long hair escaped from her braid and streamed away from her face. "Kofi was a good man…"
"You loved him?"
"Yes," Freddy slowly answered. "Yes! I loved him with all of my being!"
Colin gulped.
"I should have told you," she said in a rush of words. "I – I am in mourning until July. But, Colin—"
"Captain!" Owyn hissed from the canvas bucket high above decks. "The wind shifts astern."
"Blast!" Colin muttered, stomping to the stern where the helmsman awaited his orders.
Freddy went back to the cabin, wrapped Kofi, and laid him on the bunk next to Birdie. For a while she rested in a chair by the window, lost in her rushing thoughts and still not the least bit tired. Even now, in the midst of her excitement over making it to the sloop, sorrow pulled on Freddy like a nagging toothache. She stared into the night and wondered if this raw longing for her homeland would ever ease. Wishing she could light a candle and write to Mam this very moment, she resolved to find parchment and ink and pen first thing in the morning.
The cabin was peaceful as she again crept out, this time to the main starboard rail.
In the soft light of pre-dawn, Colin joined her there.
"All is well?"
"Aye! A hearty following wind and not a soul in sight."
Freddy watched the gray-green swells that stretched to the eastern horizon.
"You said," he began, "that you mourn Kofi until July."
"Yes."
"You were about to say something else…"
She hesitated, lowering her eyes. "I cannot remember."
"Freddy…" He covered her hand on the rail with his own.
"Yes?" She cocked her head.
"How will you live among Birdie's people?"
"I trust Birdie with my life, as you trust the crew and the Alizé with yours."
"I understand, but what of the other natives?"
"Birdie assures me that her people will accept me. I have no choice…"
"But why?"
"It is the only way to protect my African babe from the English, from their hatred and slavery." Her eyes shone fiercely. "They threaten to take Kofi from me. They can do anything to us, to me and Birdie and Efia and Kofi. I must do this for my son. For both of my sons."
"That is the best of reasons." He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.
"Colin…"
"Yes?"
"I lied to you..."
He lifted his heavy black eyebrows expectantly.
"…about not remembering what I was going to say."
She could see the question in his deep-set eyes.
"I wanted to say that I do fancy you."
Colin leaned in and pressed his cheek to hers.
She breathed in his scent of leather and wood.
"The spark is real?" he whispered into her ear.
"Terribly."
He pulled back, held her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and searched her smiling face. "I have made a decision…"
She steadily met his gaze, waiting for him to finish.
"…I will go with you up the James, to find Birdie's village."
"C
olin! You make me so happy!" She yearned to wrap her arms around his neck, but remembered his broken arm. She moved closer and put her hand on his cheek.
"And you me." He took her other hand in his, slowly lifted it to his mouth and kissed it softly.
She shivered.
"What a night it's been," he said. "Let's bring in the new day together." Still holding her hand, Colin led her to a trunk where they sat, with her on his good side. She could feel his warmth, and again savored his leathery scent. He pulled her into a firm, one-armed embrace. Colin's solid arm around her felt like home.
As the crimson streaks of sunrise shot across the sky, Freddy relaxed her head against his shoulder, melting into him.
"With a good wind and you by my side," Colin said, "it shouldn't be a long passage."
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Maggie Plummer is a writer and editor who lives in northwest Montana. Along the winding trail to becoming a novelist, she has worked as a journalist, book publicist, census enumerator, school bus driver, field interviewer, waitress, post office clerk, fish processor, library clerk, retail salesperson, Good Humor girl, fishing boat first mate, race horse hot walker, apple picker, and bus girl. Maggie is the author of “Passing It On: Voices from the Flathead Indian Reservation,” published in 2008 by Salish Kootenai College Press (Pablo, Montana). This is her first published novel.
Table of Contents
Copyright
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PREFACE
chapter 1 March 1653
CHAPTER 2 May 1653
CHAPTER 3 May 1653
CHAPTER 4 June 1653
CHAPTER 5 July 1653
CHAPTER 6 July 1653
CHAPTER 7 July 1653
CHAPTER 8 July 1653
CHAPTER 9 July 1653
CHAPTER 10 July 1653
CHAPTER 11 September 1653
CHAPTER 12 October 1653
CHAPTER 13 November 1653
CHAPTER 14 November 1653
CHAPTER 15 February 1654
CHAPTER 16 April 1654
CHAPTER 17 June 1654
CHAPTER 18 June 1654
CHAPTER 19 August 1654
CHAPTER 20 September 1654
CHAPTER 21 September 1654
CHAPTER 22 September 1654
CHAPTER 23 February 1655
CHAPTER 24 July 1655
CHAPTER 25 July 1655
CHAPTER 26 July 1655
CHAPTER 27 July 1655
CHAPTER 28 July 1655
CHAPTER 29 July 1655
CHAPTER 30 July 1655
CHAPTER 31 September 1655
CHAPTER 32 November 1655
CHAPTER 33 February 1656
CHAPTER 34 February 1656
CHAPTER 35 February 1656
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Spirited Away - A Novel of the Stolen Irish Page 19
