The Black Swan

by Day Taylor

  "Come on down. What's your name?"

  "He be Rosebud," a woman giggled.

  Adam looked at the enormous man leaping with his tinkling slave bells down onto the soft earth. "Rosebud!" he repeated, suppressing laughter.

  "Dat right, boss. Rosebud McAllister. Mah Mammy done it 'cause she doan know Ah gwine grow an' grow an' jes' nevah stop. Ah's right proud o' dat name. Ah be Rosebud McAllister, R.B. fo* sho't. Dey's only one like me."

  "Welcome aboard, R.B." Adam grinned and shook the man's hand. Ben and Beau returned with sheets, blankets, tablecloths. Rosebud McAllister took the entire load, then routed out the first group of slaves.

  Rosebud began to move in the serpent's dance. "We gwine fly on de wings o' de Black Swan."

  The slaves echoed, "We gwine fly on de wings o' de Black Swan."

  Rosebud's voice grew louder, more confident. "We gwine cross ober Jo'dan on de wings o' de Black Swan."

  "We gwine cross ober Jo'dan on de wings o' de Black Swan."

  "We gwine soar to de Promise Lan' on de wings o' de Black Swan." R.B. sang out until the words became a chant, then a song, and the slaves began to follow the black naked giant. They held the sheets up in front of them as R.B. instructed and went singing to the Liberty completely oblivious of their naked backsides.

  As the last of the slaves boarded the ship, it rang with song, low, melancholy prayers of hope and remorse and fear. Men and women keened and moaned in self-conscious embarrassment. Some nursed painful if superficial wounds, others sang because it made them feel better.

  But for Adam it was chaos reigning. Leaderless again once R.B. melted into the crowd, the slaves scurried madly across the decks, several blundering onto the bridge, others

  racing wildly seeking cover behind cotton bales. Jack-tars, mates, and firemen shouted futile instructions.

  Adam bellowed for order. Ben tried to force several into a line. As soon as he released one to grab hold of another, the first man melted invisibly into the dark. Laughing and helpless, Ben retired to sit on a coil of rope, watching the frantic activities of crew and slaves. Everywhere was noise and confusion. Nowhere was there order.

  The Liberty began to make its way to the Head of the Passes, only having to anchor again short of the forts. Adam paced the bridge, checking the navigation as he waited for the noise to quiet. "God, Ben, we can't run the blockade with them howling like this." Adam groaned, then turned and raced down the companionway to confront his noisy passengers. "Quiet!" he shouted, until he got their momentary attention. "Everyone must remain quiet, or the Federals will be able to find us."

  lihey looked at him, agreeable and mildly attentive. It seemed they listened. He mounted the companionway. The keening and singing began anew. Adam spun around, ready to storm back, angry and outraged that they hadn't obeyed. Instead, he went to the shiprail, grasping the cold brass, leaning helplessly against it.

  They understood nothing of blockades or Federal gunboats. Most of them were afraid of the ship. They were frightened and embarrassed and were consoling themselves.

  But how was he to get them safely out of Louisiana? If they continued, the noise would carry for miles on the night air. He didn't dare take them past the Confederate forts. Just having them aboard was illegal. Easily identifiable, Negro voices would draw fire on the Liberty from Confederates as well as Federals. This night there was no safe harbor, no friendly ally. He was pirate, smuggler—enemy to both North and South.

  As a crewman passed, Adam said, "Send Rosebud McAllister to me."

  "Aye, aye, sir. Who is . . . Rosebud McAllister?"

  "The big black with bells on his neck," Adam snapped, then chuckled helplessly.

  Snickering, the young seaman went in search of Rosebud.

  Adam explained to the giant why silence was absolutely essential. He looked beseechingly at Rosebud. "Can you quiet them?"

  **Dat gwine take a pow'ful lot o' doin', but you done ast de right man. Seem like Ah better kick 'em all up de side o* dey haids, boss."

  Adam groaned. "No-o— **

  "Well, den, you got some spirits dat mighty potent?"

  "Now you're talking!" Adam ordered everything alcoholic from the galley and the cabins. Swathed in blankets and tablecloths, the slaves were fed rum, brandy, wine, gin, and whiskey. Within an hour the ship was quieting. Some vomited over the side, some on the immaculately clean decks. Some snored gently. Others slept the sleep of the dead. No one spoke. No one sang.

  Adam sighed. Rosebud tinkled at his side, the little bells unnaturally loud in the quiet. "We sho' nuff shet dem up, boss!"

  Adam agreed, clapping him on the shoulder. "For God's sake, go below and have someone take that damned collar off you."

  "Aye, aye, boss!" R.B. saluted as briskly as any seaman Adam ever had.

  Just before dawn, much later than Adam wished, the Liberty slipped through the blockade at the Southwest Pass and steamed into the Gulf of Mexico, headed for New York.

  Near dusk of the fifth day they were spotted by a Federal cruiser. Adam stood on the bridge, as Ben was at the helm. The Jack-tar in the crow's nest shouted, "Ship ahoy!"

  Adam leaped down the ladder to the deck. R.B. gazed in consternation as the cruiser belched fire some eight to ten miles astern of them. The shot hit the water harmlessly, sending spouts into the air. "Dey shootin' at us, boss?'*

  "Nobody else," Adam said tersely as he rushed past.

  Rosebud followed. "What we gwine do 'bout dat, boss?"

  "We're going to build a mighty head of steam and run like hell."

  R.B., wearing a shred of sheet tied precariously about his loins, marched to the coal bunkers with Adam. He grabbed the coal shovel from the smallest of the firemen and sent the man sprawling, shrieking as he crashed into the coal bunker. Adam spun around to face Rosebud's enormous grin. "Ain't nobody kin shovel faster'n a skeert nigger, boss!"

  Adam watched the huge black man feeding the mouth of the furnace two shovel loads to the best fireman's one.

  R.B.*s powerful chest and arms rippled, already coated with perspiration, as he established an easy but swift rhythm.

  "Well, Chief, you got a new man." Adam glanced back at Rosebud. The furnace was glutted with coal. Sparks flew. Adam grinned, shaking his head. "Keep an eye on him.'*

  "He looks like a willing worker," the chief said.

  "All of that. Just make sure he doesn't feed it so full he blows us right out of the water."

  Adam returned to the deck to check the rigging. Under full sail and full steam, on an evening like this with a favorable wind, nothing on the seas could outrun the Liberty, unless it was his own ship, the Independence. All he had to do was make certain no one made an error.

  Astern, the cruiser steamed after them, the great gulps of fire and puffs of smoke spewing shot harmlessly into the air and water. Adam felt triumphant. Invincible. On this, his most disastrously chaotic trip, Adam felt like a king.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dulcie was left standing in the driveway of Marsh House as Adam rode to the hut. Someday she wouldn't be left behind. But she recognized leadenly that Adam's life left little space for a lady used to drawing rooms and finery. Commitment to him was not so simple as it had first seemed.

  Her whole life would have to change and expand to accommodate his dedication to what he believed right. She could live her life at home, waiting, wondering if he would return, or she could somehow become a part of what he did and believed in. Neither choice was easy, and both required courage. She would travel against the stream of her family's beliefs.

  She turned resolutely toward the house. Her uncle walked toward her, a lamp held high. "What's the explanation of this, young lady?"

  Webster Tilden was a humorless man she had never liked. Now she liked him less. "I went for a walk. I couldn't sleep."

  "You went for a walk," he said with overbearing sar-

  casm. "Strange, considerin' I heard you comin' home by horse. How did you happen on a horseman at this time of n
ight?"

  Weak responses, easy replies flooded her throat Uncle Webster expected her to beg his pardon, to be his sweet empty-minded niece seeking his guidance after an indiscretion. Then she thought of Adam; her back stiffened, her jaw set stubbornly. Her amber eyes glowed. "I have no explanation."

  Webster was nonplussed. "Well, we'll see about this. Never—never has the Tilden name been so disgraced by the unladylike obstinancy of a female as it has tonight."

  Dulcie shivered. She was too accustomed to her father and uncles having absolute command to be very brave in this, her first attempt at independence.

  Webster muttered to himself. "It had to be someone you know. I knew you'd turn out no better than a trollop. I told Caroline we'd rue any society our girls had with Jem Moran's girl. Proved me right tonight, haven't you, girl."

  She glanced at the house. Everybody was up. Aunt Caroline, looking pale and much abused, wafted her smelling salts in a little arc under her nose. Gay's face was blotched from crying. Only Jenny, flushed with triumph, enjoyed the scene.

  Dulcie heard her uncle give sharp orders. A conch shell sounded twice, an eerie sound that sped over the damp night "Robert and Phil are out huntin' for you, Miss," Webster said accusingly. "Since you put us to shame, and have placed Gay and Jenny in danger for your selfish motives, I believe you owe us all a complete explanation."

  Dulcie remained silent

  Webster turned his eyes on his daughter. Gay burst into tears. "We went to the voodoo ceremony, Daddy. We didn't mean to do anythin' wrong!"

  "I'm sure you didn't, but you can see the harm that has been caused."

  "She did too know we were being bad!" Jenny cried. "She wanted to see Captain Tremain. She knew he'd be there. I heard them talkin'."

  Dulcie sheltered in the babble of voices.

  Webster silenced them with a harsh gesture. He stood combatively, legs apart, arms folded. "Dulcie, I'm waitin*. I am not a patient man."

  Dulcie's eyes darted to Gay. Faced with Webster's anger.

  her newfound courage drained away. "We—I thought it would be like Circus Square. I didn't know it was a—a religious ceremony."

  "You expect me to believe that, of course!"

  "It's the truth!" Dulcie blushed remembering blacks naked, giggling drunkenly, grappling on the floor.

  "So you dragged your cousins along."

  Gay was looking down. Jenny had found an interesting hangnail to smooth out. Dulcie took a deep breath. "Yes. I did."

  "Daddy, it wasn't all her fault!" Gay cried. "We wanted to go—"

  '7 didn't! / came back!" said Jenny proudly.

  "Now, let's hear about this Captain Tremain, who lures young women out at night. You met this—this man there?"

  "I did not meet him! He knew nothin' about it. I may not be a lady, but he is a gentleman!" Dulcie blazed at him, her fear vanished. "I love him, and I'm goin' to marry him!"

  Caroline's head lolled. The salts bottle rolled to Webster's foot. For once in a lifetime of ladylike pretense, Caroline had really fainted.

  "Marry him! A brigand, who creeps about in the night? A man totally lackin' in honor or breedin'? I suppose your father knows about this! He has given his consent, naturally?"

  Take what you want and pay the price, Adam had told her once. She had not counted price when she came to him, but she was beginning to guess what this evening's fiasco, would cost her. What would Uncle Webster tell her father? And what would Jem do?

  Dulcie stood straight and defiant. Once more she set her resolve. "My father knows and approves of Captain Tremain, Uncle Webster. We are to be married next month. And it—-it was my fault that Gay and Jenny were disobedient. It was my idea to go to the ceremony. I wanted to say good-bye to him. That was all!"

  "Shameless!" Webster hissed. "Brazen, bold-faced piece of baggage!"

  Dulcie said rapidly, "I did a foolish thing, I know that now. I can only ask your forgiveness. Uncle Webster." Her aunt had revived and was looking at her coldly, her lip lifted as though something stank. "I am sorry, Aunt Ca'line."

  Webster's chest expanded, seeing he had Caroline's agreement. "We extended our hospitality, Dulcie—generously. You've repaid our kindness by causin' us all to hang our heads in shame. You are no longer welcome under my roof. My letter to your father, with a detailed account of this escapade, will precede you home. Perhaps Jem will have some idea of what to do with you. That, fortunately, is not my cross to bear." He pointed dramatically upstairs. "Go to your room!"

  Robert and Phil burst in. "Daddy! There's a fire!" PhU shouted. "It's Gray Oaks! Got to be—nothin' else around for miles."

  Robert quickly crossed the room. "Dulcie, are you all right?"

  "Robert! I do not wish her speakin' with any of our family!"

  "Daddy! The fire—aren't we gonna—"

  "Damn Gray Oaks!"

  "Phil, get our darkies over there to help." Robert's eyes held Webster's. There was no compromise in either son or father. "I'll see Dulcie to her room."

  Dulcie preceded him, suddenly tired; she kept her back straight, walking with a dignity Patricia would have been proud to see. But she had no feelings of pride or dignity. Uncle Webster had thrown her out of the house, something almost unheard of in a Southern family. She couldn't even whisper to Gay, her own cousin. And Robert—how long before he turned against her too? It had all been for Adam, yet he neither knew it nor could help her. Courage was a lonely virtue. But she would not let them see her cry.

  Robert touched her arm. "What happened, Dulcie?" he asked quietly.

  Dulcie met his look defiantly, and defiance melted. She was nearly undone by his eyes: loving, understanding, saddened. She said with great difficulty, "I-I wanted to see Adam once more. Oh, Robert, I've made such a mess of everythin'!"

  "We must contact Adam at once. Perhaps he has not sailed. If he knew about this, Dulcie, he'd want to help you."

  "No! No, I've caused him enough trouble tonight. Robert, please—"

  "Dulcie, he'd want to be here."

  Dulcie thought of the slaves. She didn't want Adam to leave them. And if he did, she knew, she'd have lost. "I don't want you to summon him, Robert. Just . . . don't hate me, please. I never meant to harm your family."

  Robert kissed her cheek. "I can't pretend to understand you or Adam. But I am not my father, you know."

  Dulcie could not speak. With his loving gesture, Robert had made her feel the shame that Webster never could. She had deliberately flaunted the tenets she had built her life around and thrown them at her aunt and uncle. Robert knew, and still he could forgive her.

  She said finally, "Adam . . . asked me to marry him. Next month."

  He looked relieved. "It would seem, after tonight, the sooner the better. My blessin's to you both—though you'll be tryin' to harness the wind."

  When he had gone, Dulcie stood with her back to the closed door. Jem and Patricia would hear of her latest headlong venture, see it written down in every black, damning detail. Jem had forgiven her one unforgivable deed. But even if he were placable this time, it would not be enough to repair a ruined reputation.

  Claudine's voice was querulous. "Miss Dulcie, wheah on earth you been?"

  "You can start packin', Claudine. We're goin' home."

  As the train moved toward Savannah, Dulcie remained quiet, her eyes fixed on the countryside. She knew she wasn't going to be absolved of this wrongdoing. Through the unholy network of cousins and uncles and aunts that linked Southern families, everyone would soon know Dulcie was of unsavory character. They would punish her and, by association, her parents. She could not put them through that.

  She could not go home.

  With an overwhelming sense of fright and loss, she thought of her promise to be in Savannah for Adam. And now . . . "Claudine, we're not stoppin' at Savannah. We're goin' to New York."

  Claudine's eyes popped. "Miss Dulcie, you cain't do dat! If fen we doan come home, Mastah Jem gwine be awful skeert. Ain't right you do dat."

&
nbsp; "It isn't right that I bring this home to him either.

  And it isn't right that I should arrive home simply to tell him I'm goin' to disappoint him again. And I am, Claudine. I'm goin' with Adam."

  The trip, usually a matter of a few days, stretched out endlessly. Because of the war, schedules were abandoned. Every Confederate Army unit not already lining the south-em banks of the Potomac River seemed to be traveling in that direction. Soldiers swsirmed onto the train at every stop. Because of the urgency of moving the troops, civilians were shunted aside. They spent anxious hours in depots and sleepless nights in strange hotels in strange cities, waiting for a train not filled to capacity with supplies or troops.

  At Wilmington Dulcie sent two telegrams. The first to Oliver. The second to Jem and Patricia: GOING TO VISIT AUNT MAD STOP LOVE YOU BOTH STOP FORGIVE ME STOP PLEASE UNDERSTAND STOP DULCIE.

  She arrived at the Raymers' two hours before they were to attend a ball. Mad ignored Dulcie's confession entirely.

  "As long as you're safe and no harm actually came of it, I don't see any reason to think about it for another minute. Do you, OlUe?"

  "Of course not, dear Mad. In the instance of yourself or Dulcie, I am sure reflection upon past sins would produce no improvement for the future."

  "Exactly what I thought," Mad said smugly. "Now, dear, you tell Claudine to unpack. We'll all attend the soiree."

  "Oh, Aunt Mad, I couldn't possibly dance tonight! I'm covered with dirt. You can't imagine what the trains are like these days. Why, last night Claudine and I had to sleep in some man's bam."

  Mad waved her toward the stairs. "That's all past, dear. A pretty gown and oodles of compliments from young men will set you to rights.**

  As Dulcie allowed Claudine to scrub away the grime of travel and massage her weary muscles, Adam sat in the comfortable study of Clyde Lewis, New York importer of fine wines. Lewis had concluded his business and left to join his guests. A gust of music blew in from the ballroom.

  Rod Courtland carefully locked that door, and the one to the hall. Opening Lewis's safe, he withdrew a packet

  wrapped in oilskins. From it he unrolled a marine chart of the north shore of Long Island. "We'll have to change your anchorage, Adam. Sorry I had to ask you to meet me here. I'd already made my engagement for this evenin'."