“There she is!” Captain Barclay shouted. “Sugar Loaf. You can’t miss her!”
All eyes shot off the bow where a black mass jutted toward the sky. The excitement rippling through Eliza erased all memory of Stanton. Men returned to their posts, everyone “oohing” and “ahhing” at the gorgeous view. Beyond Sugar Loaf, mountain ranges appeared through the morning mist, their rounded summits covered with verdure and tropical forest, while the faint outline of a much larger range loomed in the distance, rising above a heavy belt of snow-white clouds.
Eliza felt Blake’s overpowering presence behind her long before he spoke.
Overpowering, thrilling, and … unsettling.
“Sugar Loaf is a huge slab of black granite, ladies,” he began. “Towering over us by some thirteen hundred feet. Isn’t she magnificent?”
“Indeed, she is.” Angeline craned her neck as the monstrosity rose before them. “See how the sunlight washes her in purple.”
Shielding her eyes from the reflection, Eliza admired the beauty as Blake swept his hand toward the mountains surrounding the bay. “The square tower of the Gavia, the crested Corcovado, the pinnacle of Tijuca. All the familiar mountain faces which stand like sentinels looking down upon the loveliest expanse of water in the world. The bay of Rio de Janeiro.”
Eliza had never heard such excitement in his voice. “How do you know their names?”
“I’ve been studying Brazil for months. Ever since I first decided to gather a group of colonists to come here.”
Captain Barclay shouted orders to lower sail and set course toward a fort perched on a large rock in front of Sugar Loaf. The Fort of St. Cruz, Blake informed them. Uniformed men scurried from the gate to spread across the front of the large building. One of them raised a speaking cone to his mouth and uttered a string of words in a language unknown to Eliza. Yet Captain Barclay seemed to understand fully as he replied through his own cone.
“What are they saying, Colonel?” Sarah asked.
“I have no idea, though I imagine they are asking who we are and where we are from.”
Eliza raised a brow at him. “You mean to say you didn’t learn Portuguese as well?”
His grin sent her heart racing again, and she faced forward. Perhaps it was better not to look at the man.
Finally, the signal for them to pass was given, and the New Hope skated into the bay. Like jagged teeth, the surrounding coast jutted into the water, forming innumerable smaller lagoons. Charming islets dotted the bay, their borders filled with orange and banana trees, the lush greenery interrupted only by small villas. A sky of the most superb blue spanned overheard while myriad kingfishers dove beneath the water, only to emerge seconds later with fish in their beaks. Catamarans and fishing boats, as well as a few larger ships drifted over the aquamarine water, which was as calm as a lake. Rio de Janeiro itself extended from the bay upward. Several hills sat in its midst, layered in small houses, while in the valleys, countless fine homes, churches, and public buildings sprawled out in all directions. Beyond the city loomed a lofty chain of mountains, their peaks lost in the mist.
Aside from a few gasps and murmurs, most of the passengers stood in stunned awe of the beauty before them. But Eliza felt only sorrow. Though she should be happy to at least witness such an exotic place, her insides grieved already at the loss. She had made her decision.
Excusing himself, Blake went to assist the crew in lowering sails and anchoring the ship. A small boat soon arrived carrying the port physician, or so the lithe, dark-skinned man claimed to be. After inquiring whether anyone on board was sick and casting a cursory glance over the passengers, he told the captain to wait for the customs house boat and promptly left, dabbing the perspiration on his neck with his handkerchief.
And wait they did. For an hour. The rising heat soon leeched all enthusiasm from the passengers and crew. Some went below. Others sought out shade on the deck, while still others endured the heat at the railing, unable to pull away from the splendid view of the city.
“I cannot believe we are finally here,” Angeline said, her tone a mixture of excitement and sorrow. A breeze flirted with her copper curls, and Eliza’s heart went out to the lady. She wished she could stay and help her with whatever troubled her, but that was not possible. She would, however, entrust her to Sarah’s capable care. And of course Eliza would pray for her daily. For all these people she’d come to love.
Finally, the dockmaster arrived—a short man with a corpulent belly and a wide straw hat. He leaped on board from a small boat rowed out by Negroes, who were stripped to the waist, their ebony skin shimmering in the sun. After inspecting the hold, he, Captain Barclay, the first mate, James, and Blake disappeared into the captain’s cabin for what seemed an eternity. An eternity in which the sun became even more oppressive, boiling the pitch out of the deck seams and extracting an equal amount of sweat from each passenger. Eliza went below to gather a few things to go ashore but found her cabin akin to an oven and quickly returned to the breezes above.
Since they were only to stay in Rio a short while before they set sail for their new land, Eliza saw no reason not to join the others ashore. It would give her time to explain her decision to her friends. To Blake. Besides, she longed to set foot on dry land again and to see more of this wondrous city.
Soon the men emerged from the captain’s cabin. And after shaking hands, the dockmaster whistled to a group of men waiting at the docks alongside boats, sending them leaping to task and rowing out to retrieve the passengers. Within an hour, Eliza, along with Angeline, Sarah, and several other passengers bumped against the wharf pilings and were assisted onto land by several Negroes, who seemed none too inhibited to stare straight into Eliza’s eyes. Other people, some white, some black, and some in all shades in between came to greet them. The men wore white trousers, broadcloth frock coats, and black silk hats, while the women, all with black hair and fine eyes, wore brightly colored skirts and blouses. And all of them strode about barefooted. They chattered in Portuguese and other languages Eliza couldn’t place and extended hands to shake in greeting and fingers to stroke the newcomers’ arms and clothing.
Unsure of the proper response and uncomfortable with their familiar touches, Eliza thanked them, grabbed her valise, and hobbled down the dock toward dry land, not used to walking on the unshifting surface. She planted her foot on the sandy soil, raised her face to the sun, and drew a deep breath of tropical air. She was in Brazil. The land of new beginnings.
Unfortunately, those new beginnings were not for her.
Hefting a duffel bag over his shoulder, Blake headed down the cobblestone street, wishing more than anything he could spend time with Eliza alone. Was it his imagination, or had she been avoiding him since the vote yesterday morning? Even today she seemed aloof, reserved. He couldn’t imagine why. He thought she’d be thrilled to stay with the colonists—with him. Or at the very least, more appreciative. But perhaps he hadn’t given her enough time for the good news to settle firmly in her mind. Then with the dock mate’s arrival, he’d been too busy with paperwork to seek her out. And now there were far too many citizens and workers crowding the streets and threading through the throng, all gawking at the newcomers.
Negroes and mulattoes—men, women, and children of every shade, from the deepest black to the palest white—carried sugarcane, bananas, oranges, and other fruits and vegetables in huge baskets across their backs, and they thought nothing of bumping into others as they went along.
The smell of fish, sweat, and waste pricked Blake’s nose. He coughed, and his legs wobbled. James gripped his arm. “Steady there, mate. After being on the brig for nearly two months, it will take awhile to get our land legs again. I can hardly walk a straight line myself.”
Blake thanked him and ran a sleeve over his forehead. “That isn’t the only thing that will take some getting used to. This heat is unbearable.”
James glanced across the sky, which was devoid of clouds save for a dark patch on the hor
izon. “It’s still early in the afternoon. No doubt it will cool down later.”
“It’s not so much the heat as the humidity.” Blake leaped out of the way of a mule-drawn cart.
“Humidity or not, I’ll be glad to sleep in a bed tonight,” Hayden said from Blake’s other side.
“Let us pray this immigrants’ hotel has enough beds for us all.” Though Blake would be surprised if that were the case. The lodging was, after all, provided by the Brazilian government at no expense to the colonists until they signed all necessary papers and were deeded their new land.
“I doubt we’ll have anything but a straw tick.” James chuckled and rubbed his neck.
“Ah, come now.” Blake smiled. “The city seems quite civilized to me.” At least more civilized than he’d expected. He scanned the narrow street. Houses on either side sported brightly colored stucco and red-tiled roofs. Inhabitants sat on glassless window ledges while others peered around the corners at them. Gardens filled with colorful trellises and gilded, flower-strewn screens surrounded each building.
“See, look.” Blake pointed to a line of tramcars clacking over a track. “They even have a tramway.”
“But these roads are a disgrace.” Hayden squeezed between a passing wagon and the front of a house as thunder rumbled in the distance.
“My biggest concern”—Blake felt his jaw tighten—“is being able to convince the Brazilian immigration authorities to lend us money for land and supplies. At least until we can bring our first crops to market.”
“Thank God we still have some farm implements and seed left,” James said.
“But not enough,” Hayden added. “Do you think they’ll be generous? From the notices I read, it seemed they really wanted us here.”
“I hope so.” Blake ran a hand over his forehead with a sigh. “I’ve heard nothing but how benevolent the Brazilian government is. Now that we are here, let’s pray they see us as a worthwhile investment.”
James smiled. “Pray?”
“Figure of speech.” Blake snorted. “You pray. I’ll hope.”
“Peixe! Camaroes!” The cries brought Blake’s gaze to Chinamen standing beside open carts filled with fresh fish and prawns. Beside them every imaginable fruit bounded from baskets lining thatched stands: bananas, mangoes, watermelons, pineapples, lemons, pears, and pomegranates. The sweet smell permeated the air, and Blake licked his lips. He hadn’t had fresh fruit in weeks. Other peddlers, bearing long bamboo poles over their shoulders with huge baskets filled with fruits and vegetables, wove through the mob with an ease that belied the enormous weight they carried. Hawkers conveyed clothing and jewelry in brightly painted trunks strapped to their backs. Naked children by their side, Negresses, wearing turbans, squatted on mats, selling fruit and vegetables. And in the midst of all the chaos, tiny monkeys and parrots of every color and plume squawked and chattered and flitted from stand to stand.
Blake couldn’t help but glance repeatedly behind him at the group of women. And in particular, to the luxurious maple-colored head bobbing among the crowd. Surely, with all their petticoats, the heat was getting to them, yet they seemed so enamored with their surroundings, they didn’t utter a single complaint. In fact, most of the colonists hobbled along, gazing at everything with wonder, offering no protests about the heat or the long walk, all except the Scotts, who seemed quite miserable, especially once the road began to ascend.
Hayden seemed equally oblivious to the city’s charms. In fact, he appeared to be searching for someone—or something—as his gaze stretched down the street.
“I’m surprised you decided to stay with us, Hayden.” Blake transferred his duffel bag to his other shoulder.
“I thought I’d investigate what Brazil has to offer. Besides, just like the rest of you, there’s nothing for me back home.”
The sun disappeared, offering them a reprieve, and Blake looked up to see a mass of dark clouds. Where had they come from? A breeze tore in from the bay, cooling the sweat on his skin.
They turned down Rua de Direita. Fine shade trees lined a broad paved road edged with flagstone shops, restaurants, and stores. Scents of fresh-baked bread, garlic, and oranges swept away the stink of the city. Blake halted and rubbed his sore leg. “This could be any street in America.”
“Indeed,” James said. “I am quite astonished.”
Hayden stretched his neck to see over the crowd. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.” And without another word, he sped off as if he had a pressing appointment.
“But you won’t know where to find us,” James called after him.
“I’ll find you; don’t worry.” He shouted over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.
As if nature was unhappy with the man’s curious departure, thunder cracked the sky and released a violent deluge. One minute, all was dry as a bone. The next, sheets of rain fell on them as if they stood beneath a waterfall. Though some citizens ducked into shops and houses, most of the workers continued onward as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
“Keep going!” Blake shouted to the colonists behind him. “We are almost there!” Yet he could no longer make out their faces through the wall of water. He longed to backtrack and ensure Eliza was well, but he was the only one who knew how to get to the immigrants’ hotel. Raising his duffel bag against the rain, Blake plunged forward. Lightning scored the sky. Thunder shook the sodden ground beneath his boots, and within minutes, water flooded the streets and gushed down gullies and alleyways like a raging river. Blake had never seen so much water rise so quickly. It covered his boots and stormed around his ankles, making his feet sink into the mud like anchors. He glanced at James beside him, who, with head down and breath heaving, forged through the torrent as best he could. Then just when Blake thought they might be in danger of being washed away, the rain ceased and the hotel appeared before him.
What he expected was a large shack or a small stucco house at best. What he saw before him was quite the palatial setting. Rain dripped from the eaves of a grand, white, two-story building that would rival any hotel in Charleston. In front, rows of imperial palms lined a walkway that led from the gate to the steps while marble fountains and benches dotted a garden rich with beautiful flowers. Sunlight chased the clouds away, transforming puddles into shimmering pools and sending steam rising on the marble steps. Setting down his duffel, Blake shook the water from his hair and turned to find Eliza.
Clutching Blake’s hand, Eliza allowed him to help her up the slick porch stairs. With her legs still wobbling from the sea and the rain making everything slippery, she could imagine tumbling onto the walkway in a heap of stockings and petticoats. His chuckle brought her gaze to his, and she wondered if he was reading her thoughts. Water pooled on his lashes, dripped from the tips of his dark hair, and covered his skin and clothes with a slick sheen that brought a musky smell to her nose. She couldn’t help but smile. “You look like a drowned raccoon.”
“And you, a beautiful mermaid.” He brushed a saturated lock from her cheek. The tender gesture only further befuddled her mind. Oh fiddle, but she would miss him. At the thought, she lowered her gaze.
His finger on her chin brought her eyes back to his. He cocked his head, studying her. “Why the frown? I much prefer your smile.”
Laughter emanated from within the hotel as the colonists congregated in the lobby for further instructions. The men who brought up the rear leaped onto the porch, drew off their hats, and slapped them against their legs. After nodding toward her and Blake, they slipped inside.
Eliza swallowed. She might as well get it over with and tell him now. Turning, she gazed over the gardens where sunlight transformed raindrops into diamonds, and then beyond to the odd city with its hilly streets and brightly colored houses. The drip-drip of water tapped a nervous cadence on her heart. “I cannot stay, Blake.”
His eyebrows collided. “What are you talking about? The vote was in your favor.”
“Barely.” She bit her lip, still not meeting h
is gaze. “I came on this voyage to get away from the hatred. At least back home I have a chance to change my name, move somewhere where nobody knows me. Perhaps Kansas.”
“They will grow to love you in time. As the rest have.” Gray, pleading eyes swung her way.
As you have? She waited for words that never came. “Perhaps.” A breeze chilled Eliza’s damp gown, and she hugged herself. “Perhaps not.” She wouldn’t tell him the truth. That it was her love for him that drove her away. Instead, she fought back tears and forced a smile. “Thank you for wanting me to stay. That means more to me than anything.”
“Then stay.” He grabbed her arms and turned her to face him. “We need you.”
But did he need her? Want her? She nearly crumpled beneath the pain in his eyes, the desperation—desperation for her as a nurse or for her as a woman? His breath warmed the air between them and filled her with memories of their kiss. She tried to tug from him, but he wouldn’t let go. “The doctor can handle things,” she said.
“I cannot believe you’re giving up so quickly. After all we’ve been through.”
Eliza met his gaze, those stormy eyes filled with angst. “Don’t you see it’s because of what you’ve been through, what they’ve all been through, the pain and loss of the war, that I must leave?” She stared at his necktie and the way the hollow of his throat rose and fell with each breath. “My presence will only be a reminder of your loss.”
If only he’d say he forgave her. That he loved her. If only he’d take her in his arms and beg her to stay, she would. For him. Instead, he just stood there, the muscles in his jaw bunching as if engaged in battle. Then releasing her, he took a step back, leaving her cold and shivering.
Forsaken Dreams Page 29
