Theo was clinging to a column by the stairs, soaked and trembling, and Fletcher stumbled over to him. With Adele on his back, he wrapped his arms around Theo and the column, holding on tightly. At that moment the paddle wheeler lurched forward and careened down a newly formed wall of water. It hit the water below with such force that everyone on deck lost their grip and were catapulted forward. Some passengers crashed through the dining room windows, others hit the railings and toppled over, and several flew directly into the river. The riverboat was smashed apart on impact and the pieces hurtled in every direction.
Some passengers were killed instantly, others clung to debris. Women in heavy skirts who landed in the water were sucked under instantly. Sydnee fell into the river, and the raging current tossed her like a rag doll. She was gasping and flailing, trying to find something to cling to, but the water pushed her along so quickly she was helpless. She slammed abruptly into a tree that had fallen along the shore. Holding on with every bit of strength she had, she clawed at the slippery trunk, trying to get a firm grasp. Fortunately she had shed her petticoats to chase Adele, so she was able to hook a leg around a branch and drag herself on top of the tree.
Panting, she pushed the wet hair from her face and looked around. The ground had stopped shaking, but the river was still running a mad course. Dazed and shaken, her eyes gradually focused, and she saw a massive chunk of the paddle wheeler on shore. It had run aground, and people were standing on the river bank.
Sydnee crawled along the tree, yanking at her skirt as it caught on the branches. She managed to stand and stumbled toward the other passengers. Hannah burst from the group and ran toward her with Theo behind her. When they met they almost toppled her over, hugging and sobbing.
“Have you seen Dr. Locke or Adele?” Sydnee asked frantically.
Theo pointed out to the river.
To Sydnee’s horror, Fletcher was standing on a tiny island with the toddler still strapped to his back. He was clinging desperately to a tree as the torrent raced around him, washing away the soil at his feet. Just as Sydnee was about to call to him, the earth collapsed under him, and he tumbled into the river with the child.
Sydnee screamed and ran along the shore, climbing over debris and crawling over upturned trees and rocks trying to follow them downriver, but they were gone. She stood for a long time, staring at the river and sobbing.
“Mademoiselle,” a little voice said at last. “Mademoiselle Sauveterre.”
Dazed, Sydnee turned around. It was Hannah. “They are gone.”
Sydnee blinked. “What?”
“The other passengers. They are gone. They started walking a long time ago. It is just you and me and Theo left.”
Sydnee closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Stunned and delirious, she wiped her nose on her sleeve and stumbled forward. Taking the children by the hands, she started walking down a deer path to try to find help, but there was no one.
The area was devastated. Trees were uprooted, large rifts were gouged into the ground, and the river was foaming and churning. In less than five minutes, the Mississippi found a new course and ran over land previously dry. Cabins lay in ruins with chimneys crumbled. The river was littered with debris, trees and smashed flatboats. The ground was still trembling with aftershocks, and each time one occurred the children would drop into a crouch, terrified.
Sydnee was too stunned to care about the tremors. All of her thoughts were on Fletcher and Adele. Had they survived, or had the water claimed them? Had someone rescued them, or had they been smashed to bits by debris and fallen trees? Over and over she thought of ways they may have survived, but there was a sickness in her stomach that told her otherwise.
They stopped at last to rest, too exhausted to walk any longer. Sydnee tried to clear her mind to appeal to the spirits for answers but try as she might, she could not hear their voices. She could feel them swirling all around her though, mad with pain and confusion. They were too unsettled to glean any answers. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
When the sun set that evening, they slept in the remains of a cabin. It was likely the family had fled to higher ground. A tree had fallen through the roof, and although there were holes, it was still shelter for them, and they found everything they needed, food, firewood, and beds.
Although she was weak from exhaustion and anxiety, Sydnee could not sleep. She looked through the roof and stared at the full moon above her bed. Again she appealed to the spirits, but they were silent, and she feared the worst.
In the morning they continued on the deer path. By sunset Sydnee noticed a bit less damage. There were fewer trees down, and the earth was not as scarred and gouged. They came to a cluster of cabins on high ground overlooking the river, and the residents rushed forward to welcome them warmly, offering food and shelter.
“This was nothing like the one thirty years ago. Mild in comparison,” a leathery-skinned old woman told Sydnee. “But it was hell for y’all, either way. You’ll get home soon. Men come down from the north in flatboats all the time. Once they see the devastation, they’ll stop here to ask questions. Don’t worry, dear. We will get you and the youngins’ on a flatboat bound for Memphis tomorrow.”
Sydnee almost collapsed from relief, and tears of gratitude filled her eyes. Tristan, Isabel and Mortimer were in Memphis. They would know what to do. They would help her find her way. They loved her and would always take care of her.
Chapter 33
New Orleans, December 1843
New Orleans had lost its luster for Sydnee. The city that had dazzled her for years with its flamboyant good-nature and carefree ambiance, now seemed gray and lifeless. Fletcher and Adele had not returned home, and every day that passed Sydnee fell deeper into despair. It had been weeks since the quake, and although Sydnee knew that travel was difficult in the area, they should have been home by now.
Sydnee spent many anxious days in Memphis with her friends waiting for news, but there was nothing. Reluctantly, she returned to New Orleans to take Theo and Hannah home. Their aunt and uncle were overjoyed to see them again, but even the happy reunion failed to move Sydnee. She felt empty and lost.
News about the earthquake was on everyone’s lips. The major cities experienced heavy tremors and flooding, but nothing compared to the stretch of the Mississippi they had been traveling.
The strain of waiting for news about Fletcher and Adele drained her over time, and she moved from anxious agitation pacing the floors every night, to a deep despondency where she slept for hours on end like D’anton. She would drag herself from bed long enough to attend to the needs of the orphanage and then return to her room with Atlantis where she drew the drapes and kept the outside world remote. Vivian and Atlantis sensed her despair and were at her side every minute.
“Mademoiselle Sydnee,” Marie said one rainy morning, knocking at her bed chamber door. “I just returned from the orphanage, and my mother said you should come quickly. The roof is leaking.”
Sydnee sat up in a stupor and rubbed her eyes. “Very well, I will be right there,” she mumbled.
After examining the roof and reviewing the books, it was apparent a benefit was needed once more. Sydnee did not have the interest or the energy for a large affair, so she decided to have a small soiree at her town house with her closest, wealthiest acquaintances. She would raise just enough money for the roof and be done with it. She would serve delicacies and drinks. There would be dancing in the courtyard if the weather was fair, and tables for faro in the parlor with the winnings going to the orphanage.
The morning of the benefit, Sydnee had trouble rising from bed. She was tired of the endless parade of witty intellectuals and bejeweled matrons through her home. There was a time when her only thought was to entertain, but now it was a burden. When she looked at her future, it seemed to hold only endless days of loneliness and despair. She had found love and complete happiness for such a short time, and it had been ripped from her grasp. Her friends were gone, pursuing new lives elsewhere,
and even the spirits had abandoned her. She called to them repeatedly, but they never answered her anymore.
Angry and bitter, Sydnee threw off the covers and stood up. She had made a decision. She was leaving New Orleans. There were too many memories here, and it was time to make a new life elsewhere. She would relinquish the responsibility of the children’s home in Natchez to the citizens of Mississippi and give the New Orleans orphanage to the Ursulines.
She sighed. It was one less burden for her and a huge relief. She was tired and wanted nothing more than to pull back into herself and retreat from life permanently.
Sydnee spent the rest of the day getting ready for the benefit. She dragged herself through the preparations, consoling herself with the fact that this was the last time she would have to orchestrate an event. There would be no more parties, no more responsibilities and no more worries. It was just like the day she burned her father’s stand on The Trace. She would be done forever.
After helping Marie and her mother with food and set up, Sydnee stepped outside in the courtyard to make sure everything was ready for the musicians when they arrived. The evening was fair, and the temperature extremely mild for a December day. She sat down by the fountain and thought back to the first day at her town house. She was going to be the first lady of New Orleans. Tristan was going to be a distinguished gentleman; Isabel a wife; Mortimer a business owner; and D’anton an attorney. She chuckled cynically. They accomplished all of those things, but it was not what any of them really wanted in the end.
Life turned out to be nothing more than a bitter disappointment, she thought. Dreams, they were only pipe dreams.
She noticed Vivian watching her from the tree. There was something about the way the crow looked at her that made her feel guilty, and she frowned. Usually Sydnee would raise her arm to have the bird come and perch, but this time Sydnee turned away and went to the house. She was even tired of Vivian.
The crow watched her walk up the steps and then cocked her head to the side. The wind chimes were tinkling, but Sydnee did not hear them. She passed right by and went into the house. They had been calling to Sydnee for weeks, but she had not been listening.
* * *
Marie helped Sydnee into her green brocade gown and dressed her hair with tiny faux gems and a ribbon. Hannah and Theo came over to help with serving. Once a week they would come by the town house to visit with her, and she asked them if they were interested in earning some money by helping at the benefit.
Sydnee greeted the guests, started the faro and served refreshments. After a few hours, Marie lit the Chinese lanterns in the courtyard, and the musicians begin to play waltzes. The courtyard looked magical to Hannah and Theo. The lanterns cast a golden light over everything, and the water splashing in the fountain looked like jewels. Sydnee saw the delight in their eyes and remembered a dream she had long ago where beautiful flowers magically turned into dancers at a ball. She blinked and tried to remember more, but it would not surface.
“You may stay to watch the dancers for a half hour, and then it is time to go home,” she said to the children.
After several rounds of faro, Sydnee returned to the courtyard. It was crowded with dancers. Looking across the garden she saw Theo, and he was holding a little girl in his arms and bouncing her. Sydnee frowned. It seemed unusual that someone would bring a child to the soiree.
The waltz ended, and the dancers drifted off. Theo was gone, but there was a gentleman with his arm in a sling staring at her across the courtyard. She looked, and her lips parted. It was Fletcher Locke, and he was dressed in evening attire.
The music started again, and the courtyard crowded with dancers. Sydnee was too stunned to move as he wound his way through the guests, trying to reach her. Her chest heaved when he stopped in front of her, and her eyes filled with tears.
“Your friend LaRoche, the boatman found me on the riverbank with Adele still strapped to my back. We were both unconscious,” Fletcher said, and then he chuckled. “Damned if I know how we survived, but they nursed us back to health. David helped too.”
Sydnee could find no words. She looked him up and down. Aside from his arm being in a sling, Fletcher was unscathed. It seemed like a miracle and suddenly, in a rush, she knew that her life was back once more. The luster had returned to everything. She collapsed into his arms, and he held her so close she could barely breathe. He kissed her and told her over and over how much he loved her.
At last Fletcher stepped back, took out his handkerchief and dried Sydnee’s tears. The musicians began a new waltz, and he held up his one good hand saying, “May I have this dance?”
Sydnee raised her eyebrows. “But you don’t dance.”
“No, but my wedding is coming up. I need to practice.”
She smiled slowly. Taking his hand, they started to waltz. Fletcher moved stiffly around the floor with a sheepish grin on his face.
“You’re stepping on my feet,” she teased.
“I’m sorry, but I am just learning,” he said defensively.
They waltzed around the courtyard bumping into people and apologizing when suddenly there was a fluttering of wings, and Vivian landed on Fletcher’s shoulder. He stopped dancing, and his eyes grew large. “What should I do?” he whispered to Sydnee.
Sydnee grinned. “Just keep dancing.”
Author’s Note
All of my work is fiction, and it is set within the historical backgrounds of the 18th and 19th Centuries. Although some of my secondary characters really lived, my main characters are always fictitious, as well as their accomplishments and experiences.
Seldom do I feel the need to explain the events of my novels. My readers are generally well-versed in history, so there is little need for clarification, but in The Grand Masquerade, I feel compelled to share what I learned about the New Madrid earthquake of 1811-12.
I have lived most of my life in the Midwest and always thought earthquakes in the U.S. were restricted to the states bordering the San Andreas Fault. When I was researching life on the Mississippi in the 19th Century, I was floored to learn there had been several major earthquakes centering in Arkansas and Missouri called the New Madrid Earthquakes.
These were no minor tremors. The New Madrid earthquakes of 1811-12 rank as some of the largest quakes ever recorded in North America. It is said the range of shocks were two to three times as large as the 1964 Alaska earthquake and ten times as large as the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. People reported tremors from the New Madrid quakes as far away as Montreal, Boston and Washington D.C.
Since there were few major Native American or European settlements on the Mississippi at that time, there was little residential and commercial damage, but today it would be another story. I have downsized the magnitude of the fictitious earthquake that Sydnee, Fletcher and the children experienced in The Grand Masquerade in 1843. Nevertheless, it would be terrifying indeed to be on a riverboat during such a natural disaster. If an earthquake that size hit the Midwest today, the devastation would be enormous. It would only be matched by the shock and surprise of residents of the area. I certainly hope we never experience it.
Please look for my other novels on Amazon.com: Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry, The Pride of the King, and The Sword of the Banshee, and Vagabond Wind.
And don’t forget to visit my website at www.amandahughesauthor.com
My mailing list at http://www.amandahughesauthor.com/contactmailing-list.html
Amanda Hughes
About the Author and Excerpt from Vagabond Wind (Book Five of The Bold Women Series)
All her life Amanda Hughes has been a “Walter Mitty”, spending more time in heroic daydreams than the real world. At last she found an outlet writing adventures about audacious women in the 18th and 19th Century. All of her novels are stand-alone works.
The Bold Women Series:
Book 1 Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004V12JIK
Book 2 The Pride of the King http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0056QJOV
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Book 3 The Sword of the Banshee http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B0NR9E
Book 4 The Grand Masquerade http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OABX19M
Book 5 Vagabond Wind http://amzn.to/1FYApKv
Amanda is a graduate of the University of Minnesota, and when she isn’t off tilting windmills, she lives and writes in St. Paul, Minnesota. Please visit her www.amandahughesauthor.com and sign up for the mailing list http://www.amandahughesauthor.com/contactmailing-list.html
Vagabond Wind
Chapter 1
Western Virginia
June, 1853
Chester McCabe needed to bed a woman. The squat drayman stepped outside the tavern with a scowl on his face, and looked up. The dark mountains which vaulted up on every side of Bridgeman, Virginia were barely visible now. The sun had set, and the run-down buildings of town were thrown into the shadows.
Laughter rolled out from the tavern behind him, but he ignored it. Instead McCabe tore off some chew and watched an old man light torches along Main Street. The town was no more than two drinking establishments, a mercantile, and a few ramshackle buildings.
Main Street was deserted tonight, and McCabe was disappointed. He wished someone would rile him up and give him an excuse to fight. He was feeling surly, and he knew pummeling someone would help him feel better.
Chester McCabe was a short, but powerfully built man in his middle years with thick black hair covering every part of his stocky body. It even pushed out of the top of his shirt. His favorite pastime was drinking and showing whores who was boss. He believed that they liked it rough, and he was more than willing to oblige them.
Two men joined him. One was a gangly youth with greasy, blond hair who went by the name of Whitey Hoskins. The other was a fat drayman with a tobacco-stained beard named George Roscoe.
The Grand Masquerade (The Bold Women Series Book 4) Page 38
