The awkward Greek man started negotiating with the owner of the livery about the cost to display the men on stage. After a long session of haggling, a silver round was exchanged and both men smiled. Captain Gibbons seemed to materialize from nowhere and motioned to Mr. Mandrik to start the sale.
“Patrick, ya be up first. Get up dar,” the Greek said as he shoved him up onto the block. Patrick stood on stage and stared out nervously into the crowd. He was offended to be sold as a mule to the highest bidder and he grew indignant.
Captain Gibbons piped up in a loud, pompous voice, “You may now inspect this man before the auction starts!” A group of men shoved their way to the block and manhandled Patrick. They poked and prodded him; one man grabbed his mouth and examined his teeth like a common horse.
“What the hell are you doing? I am no slave,” Patrick angrily protested and smacked his hand away. Mr. Mandrik became furious and then made a swimming motion to Patrick to remind him that he would be swimming back to England if he did not sell.
The buyers returned to their bidding positions and started conversing with each other. While all this action was occurring, Patrick’s eyes caught a vision. A woman was removed from the arguing and trying to keep her distance. The woman had jet black hair flowing down her dress. Her pale face stood out of her worn red and black dress. She adorned a large red hat with a black lace ribbon tied on the backside and draping down her back. Red gloves, red shoes and a red parasol completed the outfit and protected her from Savannah’s merciless sun. Patrick had not seen a woman in almost eight years and was completely dumbfounded. He stood and outright gaped at her while the auction started. He hoped nobody could see the full erection he was now harboring.
Captain Gibbons began his pitch. “Patrick Willis worked for one of the finest jewelers in all of London. His metallurgic skills are unmatched and would be a wonderful addition to any craft that requires delicate hand work. Mr. Willis also has performed very well as our ship’s carpenter and surgeon’s mate. He is lettered, numbered and ciphered. Remember, this is a 7 year term, so dig deep gentleman. I am opening the bidding at 10 pounds.”
Three men in the crowd tried to open with the bid and their fingers shot up. The bid rose fast as the three men started their bidding war.
“The bid is now twelve! Fourteen! Eighteen! Twenty and twenty-two!” Gibbons exclaimed.
A man wearing a leather bib and covered with black soot spoke to Patrick, “Can you make gunshot and nails quickly?" Patrick was completely oblivious to the events going on around him, he was only fixated on the red gloved lady.
Mr. Mandrik yelled at Patrick, “Lad, answer the man!”
“Ohhh yes, I have made shot before but not nails,” Patrick said hesitantly.
“Very good. Twenty-four,” the man in the bib chimed in.
“Twenty-five,” another man in the audience replied.
The man in the bib came back with “Twenty-five and a barrel of Carolina tobacco.”
A hush fell over the crowd.
“Last chance at Twenty-five and a barrel of Carolina tobacco. Going once, twice and sold upon agreement of the parties.” Gibbons clapped his hand smiling, “Sold!”
“Let's go over there and work out this contract,” the captain motioned.
Patrick was then escorted off the stage and shown the contract. “This is a voluntary contact so both parties need to agree. Look it over carefully and make sure you two meet on the level," Captain Gibbons stated.
"What are you known by, good sir?” Patrick asked.
“My name is Archibald Freeman and I am glad to know you,” he extended his filthy black hand to Patrick.
“Name’s Patrick Willis,” he responded and then shook Freeman's hand firmly.
“Good. Let’s take a look-see at this contract together,” Archibald proposed.
The Contract read:
This INDENTURE Witnesseth that Patrick Willis a Jeweler doth Voluntarily put himself Servant to Captain Gibbons of the Robin to serve the said Captain Gibbons and his Assigns, for and during the full Space, Time and Term of Seven Years from the first Day of the said Robin’s arrival in Savannah, during which Time or Term the said Master or his Assigns shall and will find and supply the said Patrick with sufficient Meat, Drink, Apparel, Lodging and all other necessaries befitting such a Servant, and at the end and expiration of said Term, the said Patrick to be made Free, and receive according to the Custom of the Country. Provided nevertheless, and these Presents are on this Condition, that if the said Patrick shall pay the said Captain Gibbons or his Assigns 25 Pounds British and a barrel of Tobacco in twenty one Days after his arrival he shall be Free, and the above Indenture and every Clause therein, absolutely Void and of no Effect. In Witness whereof the said Parties have hereunto interchangeably put their Hands and Seals the 21st Day of June in the Year of our Lord, One Thousand Seven Hundred and Thirty Nine in the Presence of the these men.
Addendum
Captain Gibbons of the Robin assigns this agreement to Archibald Freeman of Savannah.
Signatures of
_______________________
Patrick Willis of London
_______________________
Captain Gibbons of the Robin
_______________________
Archibald Freeman of Savannah
This document is lettered in triple.
Patrick snickered at the notion this was a voluntary contract, as if he had some sort of choice. He could voluntarily choose to say "no" and be cast out to sea or accept this one chance to eventually be free. He forced his heavy hand to sign the next seven years of his life away under duress. Mr. Freeman then handed a bag of money to the grinning Gibbons and arranged delivery of the tobacco. Both of the men, the captain and the blacksmith, then signed and sealed the deal in spittle.
They were then interrupted by the sounds Mr. Mandrik and Isaac arguing.
“Take ya little Jew hat off for da auction,” Mr. Mandrik barked angrily.
“I will not,” Isaac replied stoically.
“I will rip the goddamned hat from yar Jew head if you don’t!” the quartermaster threatened hotly.
Isaac stepped on the block and stated coolly to the captain, “I am ready to start. Open the bids.” The captain, annoyed with it all, just went along with Isaac’s notion and called for inspection, but no man approached. The crowd of buyers stepped back in silence.
Isaac on the auction block
The captain continued anyway, “Isaac Swartz is a large, hulking man with a very strong back and could do the lifting of two men. He was trained to collect bad debts and is a trained pugilist who is very handy with his large fists. He would be excellent in security or as a sentry. On my ship he was trained as a gunner. I enthusiastically open this bid at twenty pounds.”
The crowd was silent as awkward stares fell upon the captain.
Gibbons went on, “Anyone? Anyone at all? Very well. I will keep him as my gunner. Going once, going twice...”
A shout came for a frail, tall gray haired man wearing a yarmucle, “Wait, I bid twenty pounds!”
“Very good. Going once, going twice... SOLD!” the Robin’s captain shouted.
The three men came together to examine the contract. “Shalom. I am the town Doctor, Dr. Daniel Nunis. Glad to meet you,” the doctor offered politely.
Isaac replied, “I have no training in treating aliments, sir. I have no idea why you would bid on me.”
The doctor grinned, “Anyone brave enough to refuse to remove his yarmucle to these Christians is a man I wish to call friend.” Both Jewish men then smiled and quickly signed the contract with Captain Gibbons.
Next up on the block was Sam Scurvy. Although his legs were bowed, he was very able now. Once the crowd found out he was a master fisherman a furious bidding war started and ended at 23 pounds. Purchased by a local fisherman, Sam was happy to get hired for a job he already knew and loved.
The last man was Jessup, who even still, nobody knew anything about. H
e refused to talk of his past so Captain Gibbons embellished his sailing experience. Jessup had the weathered look of a seasoned sailor so the tale seemed believable. When the bidding opened, not one soul in the crowd placed a bid. As Gibbons was about to close the auction and walk away, a colored man approached him.
“Captain, I will buy him for fifteen pounds,” the black man said. Some of the crowd jeered and stayed to watch.
“You want me to sell you a white man? What possibly for?” Gibbons was befuddled.
The colored man answered flatly, “I own a whaling ship and need men. Does my money spend?”
The Captain looked at Jessup, “It is up to you, Jessup.”
“Well, if I go back with you I will be swimming back to London, so what choice do I have?” Jessup offered sarcastically.
“Fine. Let's do a contract, your money spends with me,” the Captain snipped. The crowd watching was outraged but could do nothing about the sale but grumble.
Patrick and Archibald observed this sale and Patrick asked, “Is an African savage really allowed to be a ship captain in these colonies?”
“The colored folks are not slaves here," Archibald answered. "At least for a little longer, but rumors be that is changing. Yes, a black man can be a captain, but only in whaling. Whaling is the only profession where a man is not judged by the color of his skin, but his performance." Archibald continued, "It is so dangerous, that most of his crew will be dead within just two years. When a job is that grave, every day a flirtation between life and death, a man’s skin doesn't seem so important." He then instructed Patrick to say his “goodbyes", then they had to get to the shop.
Patrick shook his friends’ hands and exchanged partings, agreeing to get together in their free time if they could. He also reminded Isaac, Sam and Jessup of their promised meeting years from now at the inn. Patrick could not help but smile as he walked away and saw Captain Gibbons fade off in the distance into the crowded streets.
Archibald led Patrick through some winding alleys and then stopped in front of a house. In the yard were a covered fire pit and a large anvil. The house looked like all the others around it. It was a small, humble building with a pitched roof and two windows on each side of the door. A small building used as a workshop was in the back yard. Opening the front door of the little house and smiling warmly, Archibald offered, "Come in and meet the family. I bet you’re ready to rest a spell and eat some fresh vittles.”
Chapter 6
A New Life
Patrick was greeted by a pair of women and a pair of boys sitting around a stone table. The older woman was wearing a sky blue dress, tied from the waist to the chest. Despite the oppressive Savannah heat, every inch of her was covered except her face. The younger woman could not have been more than fifteen; she had young skin and was wearing a shorter, yellow dress. Her exposed forearms and hands were covered with red mosquito welts. The two boys were dressed in matching tricorn hats, simple black vests and buckle shoes.
“Finally," Archibald announced, "this fine man is the indenture we have been planning to take on.” The family sitting around the table sprung to their feet and cheered. Patrick was taken aback by this display of appreciation and could not find his tongue. Archibald continued with the introductions. “This is my wife, Marian; my daughter, Heather; and my twin sons, Maximilian and Amos."
Amos walked over to the new indentured and said in a haughty accent, “You, sir, shall polish my shoes before bed every night.”
“And I demand you empty my chamber pot every morning,” Maximilian said, matching Amos’s mocking tone.
“Patrick, I’m sorry for these two. They joke even when it isn’t appropriate.” Archibald then turned to his sons and threatened, “You twins better behave or I will drop you off at the Bethesda Boys’ Home for Wayward Children.”
“I wish you would! Did you see how nice that building looks?” Amos snapped back with sarcasm. Archibald shot him a look and he immediately apologized to him and Patrick.
Turning to his wife, Archibald asked cheerfully, "What’s for dinner, Mrs. Freeman? Our new friend must be starving.”
“Mr. Freeman, we are dining on a bucket of crabs your two men, Maximilian and Amos, caught this morning in their traps,” Marian replied in a formal tone.
“Well done, lads," the father beamed with pride and asked, "Where did you trap them?”
Amos replied “A short skirmish south of the palisade, off a small outcrop, where that large rotted palmetto tree is.”
The Father picked up a snapping crab and chased after his boys with it saying, “Shall we eat them raw or introduce them to the kettle pot?” The family laughed at the scene of giggling boys running in circles around the stone table, just barely escaping the pinch of the angry crustacean. “Oh right! I forgot our manners," Archibald stated, ending the chase. "Wife, be a dandy and cook these crabs while I show this jasper to his quarters."
“Nice to meet such a lovely family,” Patrick said humbly as he departed, smiling at Heather.
Patrick followed Archibald to the shed. It was tight quarters and there was not one bit of space wasted. A hammock attached to the walls, and under that, boxes of metal scraps. There was a workbench full of tools, strange contraptions hanging from the rafters and a small window mostly blocked by even more tools.
“The shitters are positioned on the north side of town against the palisades currently, but they will be moved again shortly," Archibald instructed. "You can always shit just outside the palisades in the swamp; nobody will get up in arms about it. Just bring a bucket of water and sponge with you. It is hard to find foliage to clean your backside that won’t redden your ass skin. It seems everything green is poisonous out there,” Archibald continued as Patrick tried catching every word he said. "Water is abundant and everywhere. You can get water out of the rivers, but it is best from any of the streams around,” Archibald explained.
“I have had a very long journey, but I am ready to work if you like,” Patrick stated eagerly.
“No. Not tonight. Tonight we get to know you and determine if we wasted all our family’s gold coin or not. Shall we have some grog before dinner and watch the sun slowly retire, Mr. Willis?” Mr. Freeman grinned.
Patrick sighed happily, “Yes sir. That would be dandy good.”
Both men sat down on stumps in the yard, staring at the sky. Archibald called for Heather to fetch him drinks and the men began to relax, getting to know each other better. Archibald removed his tricorn hat revealing his white curly wig. Patrick suspected he shaved his head, like most men, to avoid lice and wore a wig to stay stylish. As Archibald scratched at the wig in the warm Savannah heat, he asked very seriously, “Tell me, Patrick, how did you venture up here in Savannah? Truthfully.”
Patrick anguished. Should he tell the truth or do as Mr. Mandrik instructed and omit the prison section of his tale? He drew a breath and spoke, “Well my Father was a prominent jeweler in London and I studied the craft. I took to the skill fast and made my father proud. Bad fortune fell on our family and he became a lunger." Patrick embellished a little, "After he died, I decided to earn my fortune in the New World with hope of sending for my family one day.”
Heather appeared smiling with two wooden mugs of grog. She made a polite bow and handed the first cup to her father and then repeated the action for Patrick.
“So did you take a bride back in London, Patrick?” Heather chimed in. Her father shot daggers out of his eyes at the girl.
Patrick had not even seen a woman in eight years, never mind spoke to one. Nervousness overwhelmed him. He fumbled “Um, no ma’am. I’ve never took a woman. I mean bride. I mean, I have never been sealed in nuptials, with a woman. Not that I mean I took nuptials with a man." He hemmed and hawed, "I mean, uh... I mean, I never had the chance to, um...”
Archibald rescued the floundering man, “I think he means he is still trying to meet the right lady.”
“Yes, yes and yes," Patrick agreed quickly, adding, "That is true what
he be saying.”
Heather laughed at Patrick’s awkwardness and strolled slowly back inside the house.
“Well Patrick, let me tell you what you will be doing the next few years." Archibald went back to his instructions and his grog. "I am a blacksmith if you could not tell by my bib. I make my fortune mainly on making nails, horse shoes and tools. Times are demanding more of me lately and I cannot keep true to the demand. So I am hopeful you will take to iron as well as you take to silver and help me stay level with said production." The wigged man queried, "Do you think you can adapt your skills with your hands?”
Patrick nodded in agreement, as he guzzled his grog.
Archibald continued, “It is pretty simple but very repetitive, the real silver to be made is in gunshot and muskets. The king’s forces constantly demand shot. They drop their casting equipment off for the day and we custom make shot for their muskets. The redcoats keep careful watch that the colonists don't make too many guns for themselves or they'll simply confiscate them from us non-military locals. If you plan on getting your own musket soon, you'd be careful to keep it hidden until you go hunting. It's best not to tempt those red demons.”
“I can’t even fathom being able to afford my own firearm. I was a fine shot with a sling in my boyhood," Patrick joked. "These days I could not even afford a rock to throw.”
Marian interrupted them, announcing that dinner was now ready. She insisted that the family dine outside because she did not want her home to reek of crab and low tide, so the family gathered in the back yard under the dogwood tree. The tree was in an unusual second, yellow bloom and provided refuge from the sweltering sunlight. The shade extended over one large stump that was surrounded by eight logs sitting upright. The family sat on the make-shift, wooden seats and dropped the cooked crabs on the large stump table from a steaming pot. To add to the feast, Heather set out some fresh cornbread, presented in a small basket and wrapped in a cloth napkin to protect it from the clouds of flies.
Pirates of Savannah: The Complete Trilogy - Colonial Historical Fiction Action Adventure (Pirates of Savannah (Adult Version)) Page 8
