The Outrageous Fortune of Abel Morgan

by Cynthia Jefferies

  I do not think Chepstow had been aware of Ballam’s thieving, which was soon proved. However, I suspect he had wind of his behaviour with my wife. Perhaps he had decided I was unlikely to find out or indeed would not care, having already left her. He was wrong, but in the end, I could not hold it against him. Since I had first met him, Chepstow had been assiduous in his care of my business, from saving my life the first day we met to helping me into society. He had made his opinion of Marie clear to me in the politest of terms, while remaining more gentlemanly towards her than she deserved. I had no doubt that he was as good a lawyer as there was on this island and I duly retained him.

  Christophe was soon crawling everywhere and pulling himself upright to stand, though he had not taken his first step when I sent for Marie. I had visited her several times over the months and had determined that she was truly sorry for what she had done.

  The first test for Marie was Mollie’s swollen belly, but she said nothing and remained meek. I had not had congress with my wife since that day when I had discovered her with Ballam and I told her I didn’t purpose to resume relations with her but would rather form an alliance with her. If she would support me in society as my wife I would allow her to stay here and take a full part in our son’s upbringing. She would have all the dresses, furniture and so on that she desired. I would arrange for her to have riding lessons and buy her a gentle mare to ride, if she wished. She could go about and make friends.

  ‘All I ask,’ I said, ‘is that you should be loyal to me in comradeship and, if you desire a liaison you will inform me, and keep it discreetly within the household, as I do.’

  She looked at me in great surprise.

  ‘I realise it is a controversial theory,’ I said. ‘But I have come to believe that both sexes can feel desire. I doubt Ballam forced you, did he?’

  She shook her head defiantly. ‘No.’

  I allowed myself a slight smile. ‘Then let us be practical. You would not be the first wife, I think, who kept a personal slave, as I have Mollie. But we will need to make sure that any man you might allow in your bed does not believe it gives him any power over either of us.’

  ‘No other man will have power over me!’ She glared at me, then relaxed and wryly returned my smile.

  ‘Even so. I would make it plain to any man that such an arrangement is my wish and within my gift. That should help to protect us both.’

  She could not refuse, but she agreed with good grace and I was well pleased with our compact, as I believe she was too.

  There was also the matter of the second child she now carried in her belly.

  ‘I cannot not tell who the father of your unborn child is,’ I said. ‘But it might be me. I will accept the child as mine, no matter when it is born, so long as you keep to the bargain between us.’

  I was her husband. She had no power in any of this, but she considered, as if she had several choices. After a few seconds she looked keenly at me and then offered her hand, as if she were still in her male disguise. ‘I agree.’

  I took her hand and we shook on the deal. Her handshake was firm and purposeful. I admired her bravado.

  After she had been restored to our son for no more than a week he took his first step. It happened that we were both there when he did it and I must say that moment brought us together more successfully than any bargain or punishment could have done. It was not that we were abruptly reunited in love, but we forged an even stronger understanding, united in love of him. From that moment our alliance was steady. I do not say we never argued, or that Marie never tried my patience or I hers, but we became akin to business partners. We were much better at that than marriage. What’s more, I soon forged an amiable friendship with a gentleman from London who had come to visit our island. His company gave me much respite from Marie while he was there. Hans Sloane had a desire to learn about the flora of the place, so I took him on many rambles, first having found a knowledgeable slave to carry our requirements. I learnt almost as much as Hans and, when he returned home, we continued our friendship by occasional letter. I was proud to receive a copy of the book he wrote about the plants, which he inscribed to me.

  30

  Time has a habit of passing quickly when children are growing, but after almost a dozen good and successful years, a day came that altered all our lives most terribly and ended my life on the fair island of Jamaica.

  It was even hotter than usual, airless, and the small rumblings that shook the ground here were blamed for the insufferable heat. I called for my horse to be saddled. I didn’t see Marie before I left, but Mollie had her three children as well as Elizabeth and Christophe in her care, as usual. I remember that Christophe asked if he could ride with me, but I had business unsuitable for him to share. This was my visit to Caroline, a young widow who would no doubt be awaiting me in a delicious state of undress in a darkened room. I decided first to ride up out of the town to try and find a little breath of unsullied air. It would not do for me to arrive early. God knows, tongues wagged even when there was no impropriety between doctor and patient. Caroline cared little for chatter, but I didn’t want to be barred by jealous husbands and fathers from treating some of the more interesting female diseases. I will not say that Caroline was the only young woman who had offered herself to me, but she was the most brazen. I was walking a fine line with her. I had no wish to marry her, even if I had been free, nor did I want a scandal. Perhaps in future, taking Christophe would be a good way of avoiding her ardour.

  Once we reached the country, I gave my horse his head and he settled to a comfortable canter. It was a relief to feel my hair lifted in the breeze and the movement of air about my face, but I knew I couldn’t prolong the pleasure for too long. Caroline would take me to task if I were late.

  The town lay below me, almost surrounded by the still blue waters of the Caribbean. None of the noise and filth of the port could be seen from this position and it was a very beautiful scene. I could see my fine stone house, set in one of the best streets of the town, and the several ships that lay at anchor, waiting for the wind.

  Suddenly my horse shied, almost unseating me. At the same time a nearby tree toppled without warning to the ground, wrecking the peace in a most unexpected way. It took me a few minutes to soothe and control my mount as well as to still my thumping heart. When I had him calm, I looked with interest at the tree. It was not so very old. How intriguing! Was it riddled with rot? I dismounted, walked a few paces and then stopped. My mount was pulling at his reins and rolling his eyes in fright, but it was what I saw on the ground that alarmed me.

  The ground was cracking like a walnut and opening a gap across the track along which we had just ridden. It was this underground disturbance that must have loosened the tree and felled it. I allowed my beast to lead me back to the security of the rocky outcrop where he stood with his legs trembling and his coat dark with sweat. I found I was trembling too. I had seen such fissures many times, but never one in the making before my eyes.

  I was looking once more at the town, wondering if my wife and children had felt the tremor, when a deep rumbling came from all around me. With a scream of fear, the horse leapt sideways and ripped the reins from my hand. In a moment, he was gone, crashing through the trees and away in the direction of his sometime home at the plantation.

  I was a distance from the sea and yet it felt as if I were aboard ship in choppy water. I looked at the ground and saw small stones shaking as if in a sieve. Then the shaking stopped, and all was quiet. Relief turned to anger at my horse. I would be very late and would arrive at Caroline’s hot and dusty, and without my bag of tinctures. I would have to go home and bathe, making me even later. I was in a quandary. She liked to tease and might refuse me entry if I were very late. Which was the greatest risk, to go dirty or late? She was capable of complaining about me to her friends whatever I did.

  I looked at the town again to reckon how long it might take me to reach her. There was something wrong with the view. At first, I
thought it was my eyes at fault. I seemed to be looking at the town through a mirage or a wavering glass window. The whole port was trembling. Buildings swayed, and the great leaves of the palms waved as if there was a strong wind. And then, to my horror some of the buildings began to collapse. From my position I could not be sure, but it seemed as if the very ground was melting, sucking the town ever lower. And then, with the quay seemingly sunk, the sea began to race inland, swallowing up streets with their stalls and hubbub of customers. I stood transfixed while the street where Mr Chepstow had his business became like a river.

  I tried to see Caroline’s house, but such dust had arisen from the fallen buildings it was impossible. I don’t know how long I stood there. It felt like hours but must have been little more than a few minutes. To my shame it was only then, when I roused myself from my horrified stupor, that I considered my dear children. I prayed Mollie had kept the children at home this day. The house was strongly constructed, with good foundations. Surely it and Caroline’s house would stand? It was the poor in their hovels who suffered most in any disaster. Even so, I determined to make all haste to discover how my family did. They were my priority now.

  I leapt across the narrow chasm to gain the undamaged part of the track, eager to make my way downhill. I don’t know why I took another look at the town, but as I did I stood transfixed, for an even more terrible sight hit my eyes.

  A great wave was rearing up from the tranquil sea. It snapped the lines from the vessels in the harbour and drove them from their moorings. They tossed about and then rushed inland, pushed by an implacable fist of water. Most soon lay dashed and broken, hurled against buildings and stove in. One, a large merchant vessel, was carried on before my unbelieving eyes and came to rest perched on top of one of the more solid buildings.

  At last the great wave spent itself, and receded, but either the sea had risen, or the port had sunk for much of it still lay underwater. I stood for a few more minutes, wondering what other disaster would happen, but all that occurred was that a gentle breeze began to blow, the breeze we had all wished for.

  I made all haste towards the town. It was not so very difficult. Little damage had been done to the hill I stood on, apart from a couple more cracks like the one that had toppled the tree. I managed to cross them without mishap and soon reached the town. It was a terrible sight. Some buildings stood intact, while others were almost completely ruined. I looked over to where Caroline’s house had stood, but it had entirely gone. A melancholy thought struck me. But for our rendezvous, she might have been out this day, riding her mare, and so might have avoided what I felt sure must have been a sudden and certain death. And then I realised that had my horse not bolted we would both have been within, and if I had taken my son, he would have died too.

  Many buildings had partly sunk into the ground and were stuck at extraordinary angles, and yet, so soon after the disaster, I could walk on the once more solid ground. I could only surmise it must have in some way melted before instantly setting again. How could such a thing possibly happen? I confess I walked with much trepidation.

  Everywhere people were dead or injured. Some unfortunates had been caught like the buildings in the melted ground and were now held fast. Some were crying pitifully to be released while others were clearly dead, their vital organs having been crushed. Some had been injured by falling debris, many more were drowned, floating horribly in the flooded streets around the harbour. Several inhabitants recognised me and begged for my help.

  ‘I am going to fetch my medicine box,’ I called to them. ‘I can do little without it.’

  Some people, unharmed by the earthquake and its aftermath, were busily looting what they could. Port Royal had ever been a lawless place and I suppose I should not have been shocked at such callous behaviour, but I confess I was much saddened.

  I made all haste to my house. It leant drunkenly, on one side buried to a height of several feet. Some of the masonry had fallen and cracks had appeared in the walls. It was clearly uninhabitable. But where was my family?

  There was no sign of the slaves but, cowering in the damaged drawing room, I found my wife and our daughter.

  ‘Where is Christophe?’ I asked.

  Marie didn’t reply, only holding her daughter to her ever more firmly.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ I asked her.

  She stared at me, still speechless.

  ‘How does Elizabeth?’

  In spite of her reluctance, I took the child gently from her and stifled the cry of grief that threatened to escape my throat. The beautiful little child I had accepted into my home was quite dead, her dress turned white with dust and her face the same hue. I could see no obvious sign of injury until I examined her head and found the back of her skull shattered. I did not want to put her down, but I knew I must, so I laid her gently on the floor and went back to my wife. ‘Do you know where our son is?’

  She looked through me. Indeed, I do not think she saw me at all. If she did, she did not know me. I left her with her daughter, then, and began to search the house. It was dangerous work. The floors were aslant, the furniture for the most part broken and the plaster dropping from the ceilings. It didn’t take me long to discover that my son was nowhere in the building. Nor were Mollie or her children. They had, I suppose, fled, but to where I had no idea. I returned to my wife. She was in the same position in which I had left her. Now Elizabeth was no longer on her lap, I could see blood staining my wife’s dress. A quick examination revealed a cut on her leg. It was deep but should not threaten her life if it was attended to.

  I recovered my box from the study. Thankfully, it had survived intact. I cleaned Marie’s wound. Then, after taking up Elizabeth again, I helped my wife from the house. All the while she said nothing to me, nor made any sound.

  Outside, I sat her on a block of fallen stonework while I went to see what remained of the stable. Two horses were within. One was in a lather and had a broken foreleg but the other, Christophe’s pony, stood quietly enough, in an obvious sweat and with his head hanging down, but physically unhurt. He was pathetically pleased to see me and stood willingly, like a pet, when I saddled him. I blessed the day I had disregarded my son’s desire for a spirited animal and had bought him a stolid pony. I put Marie on the beast, laid her poor daughter in her arms and tied my box behind the saddle. It was a heavy load for the pony, but he made no protest as I led him away.

  I had it in mind to set my wife and child down at the cemetery, where they would be clear of most falling buildings, while I returned to search for our son. However, as we approached, it became clear that the ground had melted here too. We were met by several stinking corpses, still in their wrappings, lying as if tossed aside by some ghoulish funeral party. One had tipped up out of his grave and sat as if alive or as if he had heard the trumpet calling him on Judgement Day. I took a different route and eventually reached higher ground where there were no tall buildings, nor ungodly raised dead.

  Many others had made for the same place and there was a multitude of patients clamouring for attention. I wanted to think of nothing but my son, berating myself, of course, for neglecting to take him with me when he had asked. I hoped he had run from the house and, like us, had headed for higher ground. Perhaps he was here already and would soon find us. In any case I knew my duty. I had to do my best first for the injured.

  I put Marie in the care of a lady I knew, untied my box from the pony, and set to. More and more survivors continued to arrive. Some were unharmed, but many carried wounds. I did my best, but it was little enough, with my medicine box soon depleted.

  The town had been full of slaves that had been trained to work in our houses, but I saw few here. I warrant many had escaped, feeling no loyalty to the people who owned them. I could not blame them. I, who had some experience of captivity, would have doubtless done the same.

  At length, a few unharmed souls came to help me, for which I was most grateful. I had attended to the worst cases but knew that many more would
be lying helpless in the ruins of the town. It frightened me that I had not yet seen Christophe. What if he were one who hadn’t been able to flee the town through some injury? I had to go back and search for him, and to help the rest of the injured there.

  A few well-organised people were discussing searching for water. Everyone here was in need of a drink, but all the water was contaminated with salt. When I went to look at Marie, she was sitting where I had left her, still holding her dead daughter.

  ‘She will not give her up,’ said the woman looking after her. ‘I have tried, but she will not be parted from her. Nor does she speak.’

  ‘She has retreated from the situation and gone somewhere we cannot follow,’ I said. ‘I am going back into the town now to do what I can for the poor souls still there. I will bring something to use as a shroud for her daughter and will deal with my wife then, if you are able to continue to care for her in the meanwhile.’

  ‘She is no trouble,’ said that good soul. ‘And if water can be found, I will make sure she has some.’

  I loaded my box on the pony, regretting the medicines I now lacked. Maybe I could find more in the town, and if my house had collapsed no further I could certainly collect more from there.

  I tried to think where Christophe might have gone. He was not, as a rule, allowed to wander alone around this lawless town, but there were no rules now and I had no idea where to look for him.

  It wasn’t until several days later, when I had searched the town as well as I was able and eventually taken my wife to the plantation for her safety’s sake, that the truth about my son was known. Imagine my joy to find him there and unharmed! It seems he had had an argument with his mother and had, without leave, purposed to secretly go to that place where he was always happiest. But, rascal that he was, he had decided to confuse her by hiring a horse, rather than take his own pony. By doing this he hoped to make her fret more, feeling sure she would think he had not gone far without his pony. His ruse had worked, but on me, not his mother, whose wits had not returned.