Tides of Fortune

by Julia Brannan

  And then you could be sure to take all the credit for Raymond, in case I fail to tell the king who trained him, Beth thought.

  “Oh no, that would never do!” she said. “The training will be very hard; Raymond will have to spend long and tedious hours repeating the same gestures, learning the same lessons over and over, until he performs them perfectly! And I alone will be responsible for this. You know what negroes are like, how lazy and impertinent they can be. As obedient as Raymond is now, once he is free of your discipline there is no telling how he will behave when he has to obey a woman! I must have complete authority over him so that I can administer punishment as I see fit. If I do not have ownership of him, my position will be undermined.”

  “I do take your point, of course,” Pierre said doubtfully. “But—”

  “I am quite happy to sign anything you wish, assuring you that if he does not please the king he will be returned to you at no charge to yourself. Indeed, if I find that my husband is indeed dead, as I do believe him to be, I will accompany Raymond home myself, if you are still amenable to making a respectable woman of me,” she said, blushing furiously, clearly deeply embarrassed at her own audacity. “Indeed, Pierre, I wish to please the king only because he can find out whether or not my husband lives. Once I know the truth of that, I shall leave the court as soon as I can.” She cast her eyes to the ground to compound the impression of being a woman desperate to fly to his arms, even above those of the king, should her husband not be alive.

  Pierre softened immediately.

  “I understand completely. How could I refuse you anything, when you give me such hopes of making me the happiest of men?” he said, seizing her hand and kissing it fervently while she fluttered her fan in front of her face, a picture of feminine delicacy and confusion.

  The delicacy and confusion lasted until she reached the privacy of her room, whereupon she threw both the fan and herself onto the bed, suddenly unutterably weary. She had forgotten how tiring it was to dissemble. How had she managed to do it almost continuously for over two years?

  Because she had had Sir Anthony beside her, supporting her, covering her mistakes and treating it all as a game. And because once they were alone, as Alex he had reassured, protected and loved her.

  She closed her eyes tightly in a vain attempt to stop the tears which threatened. God, she thought, I am so lonely. I cannot bear this for much longer. Please, please let him be alive. Let all this not be in vain. Tears trickled down the side of her face into her hair and she rolled onto her side, curling up in a foetus-like position, trying to comfort herself.

  Which was how Rosalie found her, fast asleep, when she came into the room an hour later. Very quietly she tiptoed out again, closing the door silently behind her.

  “Madame Beth is asleep,” she whispered to her father, who stood in the corridor. “We will have to thank her later.” Father and daughter looked around, ascertained that they were alone, then embraced, their eyes glowing with happiness.

  Later, when Beth awoke, they would assure her that it was not all in vain and she would be comforted by that. But it would not abate the loneliness.

  Once Beth had the papers confirming Raymond as her possession she relaxed a little, and spent the remaining two months at Soleil in preparing for her voyage. To that end she ordered two court dresses to be made that she had no intention of wearing, and some serviceable woollen clothes in dark materials that she did. She also exercised her arms, took long walks around the grounds, perfected her knife-throwing skills, and incorporated Raymond into the literacy lessons she was giving Rosalie. As she’d expected, Raymond was a very fast learner. The rest of his time was spent training the slave who would replace him when he was gone.

  She didn’t tell either of her new purchases that she had no intention of taking them on a perilous trip across the ocean; that she intended to free them. She could not take the chance that they might not be able to resist confiding such momentous news to one of their friends. One of the many lessons she had learnt from Alex was that if you wanted to keep something secret, you must tell no one. She had told Paul and Elizabeth of course, but that had been necessary.

  In her last week before sailing she would move to Fort Royal and stay in a hotel there, where she would also obtain the manumission papers setting them free. Then she would tell them both. She couldn’t wait.

  * * *

  As a result of her impatience, the first thing she did in December, after saying her tearful farewells to Pierre and obtaining a room at the hotel in Fort Royal, along with a pallet for Rosalie to sleep at the foot of her bed and a tiny closet for Raymond that wasn’t even large enough for him to lie down properly, was to head off into town to get the manumission papers drawn up.

  She had spent twenty minutes at the hotel arguing that she wanted proper rooms for her slaves, not cupboards or pallets, until Raymond had gently interrupted and assured her that he was very happy to be in the hotel at all, as normally male slaves would sleep in the cellar or with the animals outside. Then she had reluctantly accepted the situation.

  It took a whole day to get the papers drawn up, signed and witnessed, but finally she had them. When she got back to the hotel she ordered a large cold meal to be served in her room along with three bottles of expensive wine. As soon as it arrived she sent Rosalie to fetch Raymond.

  While she was waiting for them to come back, she tried to calm herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so excited about anything. She cast her mind back to how she had felt when the marquis had told her she was free, how the prisoners had at first sobbed and then rejoiced when the good news had been given to them all. It would be wonderful for them.

  Raymond and Rosalie sat silently on the edge of the bed for so long after she told them they were free that Beth thought they hadn’t understood what she was telling them.

  “Those are the papers telling you and anyone who questions you that you no longer belong to anyone at all. You can make new lives for yourselves, do whatever you want to do.”

  Rosalie looked at her father uncertainly, while he stared at Beth.

  It is not that they don’t understand, she realised. They don’t believe me, because freedom is something they never even imagined they could have.

  She stood up from the chair where she’d been sitting and went across to them, knelt down in front of them and took one of their hands in each of hers.

  “Raymond, this is why I insisted on buying you rather than accepting a letter transferring you to King Louis. I had to have the ownership papers so that I could set you free in law. I am giving you your freedom, as the Marquis de Caylus gave me mine when we landed here.”

  She smiled, and Rosalie smiled back at her uncertainly.

  “Madame Beth,” Raymond said, his voice husky with the emotion he was not yet showing, “why have you done this for us?”

  “Because I could,” she answered simply. “If I could buy every slave on the island and set them free, I would. No man should live in bondage to another. I have spent years of my life fighting for a cause that would have given me the right to worship openly in my country, to use my rightful name. That cause has failed. This is a little thing, but it makes me very happy to give you both the freedom to choose your own futures.”

  “This is not a little thing, madame,” Raymond said. He stroked his finger lightly over the paper he was not yet able to read properly. “This, this is everything. I…I have no words…” His voice broke, and like a dam breaking the tears spilled over his lashes and ran down his cheeks. He brushed them away, embarrassed, and then took his daughter in a fierce embrace, and the two of them broke down completely.

  Very quietly Beth got up and left the room, recognising their need to deal with this overwhelming news alone.

  When she returned a short while later they had both succeeded in composing themselves a little, but their eyes were shining and brimming with happiness, and Beth’s heart soared.

  “When the marquis told
us all that we were free,” she said, “we were like you. But then once we accepted it, we celebrated together. I know that it would be frowned on if we were to all go out together tonight, and that you wouldn’t be allowed to go into the taverns with me. So I thought that we could celebrate here, together.” She pointed to the dishes of food and the wine. “We will have to share the glass,” she said, “unless you’re happy to drink from the bottle, of course! But if you want to just be together to celebrate, then I understand. I can go elsewhere for the evening.”

  “Oh, madame!” Rosalie cried. “You are our angel! We can never thank you enough! Of course we wish to celebrate with you. I can’t…we can’t believe it’s true.”

  They shared out the food, and in the absence of sufficient glasses clinked the bottles together and drank.

  “It feels wrong to be eating food with you, at the same time, and the same table,” Raymond said after a few minutes.

  “Well, you will have to become accustomed to it, so this is a good place to start,” Beth said. “Oh, I almost forgot! I have something else for you!” She went to the drawer and pulled out two leather bags, giving them one each. “It is a little money to allow you to make a start in life, and you must not thank me for this because it is from a friend of mine.”

  Raymond opened the bag and gasped.

  “Madame, this is not a little!” he cried. “This is a fortune! We cannot accept this. You will need money yourself, when you get to France.”

  “I have money of my own,” Beth replied. “This is for you, and my friend would be very unhappy if you refused it. So would I.”

  He sighed, and, never having experienced how to argue with a white person, gave in.

  “How can we ever thank you for this?” he said. “There is nothing we can do for you to pay you back.”

  “Yes, there is,” Beth replied. “You can call me Beth instead of madame. And you can go and live your lives and seek happiness, as I have…as I am doing. That will be thanks enough.”

  “Then, Beth,” he said, “I promise you that we will do just that.”

  “Good,” she said. “Now let’s eat and drink, as friends and equals.”

  The next day they went for a walk together down to the harbour. Beth hadn’t seen Paul or Elizabeth yet, but had sent a message to tell them she was in Fort Royal and asking them to call on her whenever they wanted.

  The three companions sat by the harbour looking at the multitude of ships, some of them swarming with figures, loading, unloading or performing various maintenance tasks.

  “Do you know which is the ship you will be sailing on?” Raymond asked.

  “I don’t, I’m afraid,” Beth replied. “I know it is a brig, so has two masts, and is called L’Améthyste, but I couldn’t identify it from here, no. But when I go I hope you will come and wave me goodbye, and meet Captain Marsal and his wife, who are my friends.”

  Raymond and Rosalie exchanged a look, then Rosalie spoke.

  “We would be very happy to meet your friends, ma…Beth,” Rosalie said. “But we cannot wave you goodbye.”

  Beth was surprised by how disappointed she felt that there would be no one to say goodbye to her as she left this island forever. I’m being ridiculous, she told herself. They wanted to start their new lives straight away, maybe wanted to leave Fort Royal immediately.

  “Of course,” she said. “I understand.”

  “We cannot wave you goodbye, Beth, because we are coming to France with you,” Raymond added.

  * * *

  “So, Paul, you must refuse them permission to sail with you, because they just will not listen to me,” Beth said two evenings later, having argued with Raymond and Rosalie for much of the intervening time. It seemed that Raymond did know how to argue with a white person after all.

  They were in a tavern in which Paul was known, and in which he’d asked for and got a private room. The three of them sat around a scrubbed wooden table, on which was a candle, a jug and three glasses.

  “I’m afraid I cannot do that, Beth,” Paul said.

  “Of course you can!” Beth replied. “I’ve told them that France is nothing like Martinique, that it’s cold, and that having never lived anywhere else, they will suffer terribly. I also told them that they don’t need to worry about me, because you are my friends so I won’t be alone. But they still insist that they wish to come with me. So you must tell them they can’t come. They’ll have to listen to you.”

  “Why do you no’ want them to go to France with ye?” Elizabeth asked.

  “They’re only coming because they feel an obligation to stay with me, and it’s dangerous, as you said, and because when I get there I can’t look after them, and they can’t come to England with me. Please, Paul, will you come with me now and tell them?”

  “As I’ve said, Beth, I cannot do that,” Paul repeated.

  “Why not?” Beth asked, puzzled.

  “Because Raymond and Rosalie came to see me this morning, and I agreed to take them to France with us.”

  “You did what?! How could you?” Beth cried.

  “I could because I’m the captain of L’Améthyste and I make the decisions as to who goes on board and who doesn’t. And I also could because they gave me very good reasons for wanting to go, and they were not the reasons you have just given to me.”

  “What reasons did they give?” Beth asked.

  “They told me that Monsieur Pierre had mentioned that slavery is illegal in France. I confirmed that it is. They said that in Martinique, if they are arrested for any reason then they could be enslaved once more, and they would rather risk the dangers of the voyage and adapt to a new country than be slaves again.

  “Raymond also said that if Monsieur Pierre finds out that rather than selling him to King Louis, you have actually freed both him and his daughter – which I might say is highly likely to happen, as gossip is the mainstay of the island – then he will be very angry, and will seek revenge. They will never be safe if they stay here. I agreed with them. So I told them they were welcome to come, and that they can have free passage if they are willing to work.”

  These were very good reasons; Beth could not dispute that.

  “They didn’t tell me that was why they wanted to go to France,” she said softly.

  “No, they didn’t,” Paul said. “Raymond was very honest with me. He told me that you didn’t want them to go, that you assumed they felt an obligation to accompany you from gratitude, and that they didn’t know how to refute that without you thinking they were not grateful for what you’ve done for them.”

  Beth fell silent, looking down at the table, and after a minute Paul reached out and took her hand, stroking it lightly. She looked across at him.

  “Beth,” he said gently, “you are a very kind woman, and what you have done is wonderful and will change their lives forever. But Raymond is a grown man and has been through many hardships. He knows his own mind, and although Rosalie is only fourteen, she too is stronger than you think. They have been treated as ignorant children their whole lives by the planters, and in order to survive have had to pretend that’s what they were. I think you are confusing what they seem to be with what they are. You, who have had to wear many masks in your life, should understand that better than anyone.”

  “I never thought about it in that way,” she said, reddening. “You are right.”

  “Don’t be ashamed; you are not used to slaves. In your time here you’ve seen only a very little of their way of life. But you are willing to listen and to learn, and that’s a good quality. Of course, there is another reason why you should not try to stop them accompanying you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You have no rights over them. You have set them free, but are trying to stop them exercising that freedom.”

  To his surprise, she started laughing.

  “Touché, Captain,” she said. “I used different words, but that’s what I said to my husband when he told me he’d married me to set me free.
You are right. I concede defeat, and will tell Raymond and Rosalie that when I see them later.”

  “Good,” said Paul. “Tell them also to have some warm clothes made – you can help them with that - and that we hope to sail in three days.”

  Three days. Three days and she would be on her way home. To hell with the risks. Better die young whilst truly living, than grow old merely existing.

  And now she had the freedom to do as she wished, thanks to this charismatic captain who reminded her so much of Sir Anthony. And thanks to her, Raymond and Rosalie also had that freedom.

  It was fitting that they should embrace the start of that freedom together.

  * * *

  The cargo of sugar had been loaded, and the crew all dragged out of whatever drinking establishment they were frequenting. Two of them had then been thrown in the sea to sober up, after which another crewman had had to reluctantly jump in to stop the most inebriated of the two from drowning.

  “Seth really is an exceptionally ferocious fighter, and worth saving,” Paul explained to his bemused companions as the unconscious man was dragged on board and then pummelled on his back. He brought up an impressive quantity of seawater, groaned, and then curled up on deck and went to sleep. Paul sighed.

  “Take him below to let him sober up,” he said to two other crewmen. “He can take a double watch tonight as punishment. I really don’t want to have to flog men at this stage,” he explained to Beth and Rosalie. “In fact I avoid it altogether if I can, because they’re then out of action for a day or so, which means the other men have to do his duty as well as their own.”

  The matter-of-fact way he said this made Rosalie wince. Paul eyed her curiously.

  “Rosalie was flogged in October by the overseer. I had given her some hair ribbons, but he thought she had stolen them.”

  “Mada…Beth rescued me,” Rosalie said. “But I will never forget the pain. It was terrible.”