by Sarah Lark
However, Nora did not want to think about it. She was rather more enthused about the whales and dolphins that accompanied the ship. She was entranced when the first enormous dorsal fin, that was almost the size of a house, appeared in front of their lookout. Ruth Stevens, on the other hand, shrieked, and fled to the cabin.
Even the reverend was frightened, and amused the crew by presenting a sperm whale to them as the beast that had formerly swallowed Jonah.
“Not that one, reverend, it doesn’t even have teeth!” one of the men who had previously worked as a whaler, laughed. “The beast only eats very small creatures. To us, it’s harmless as long as you don’t irritate it, or go so close that you catch its fin.”
Reverend Stevens then proudly explained that this was probably the reason why Jonah had made it to the stomach of the whale in one piece, thanks to God’s wise counsel. And besides, if God decides that this or that monster swallows this or that missionary, the missing tools for chewing are probably also no obstacle.
When Nora told Elias about the whole thing, he cheered up the men of the captain’s table that very evening with the story, and toasted with the officers to Jonah, the whale, and the unknowing clergyman.
The ship approached the Canary Islands a few days later, and the central European winter weather slowly shifted to friendlier temperatures. Nora began to frequently visit the deck, which subsequently led to the first dispute of her recent marriage. Initially, Nora had always carried a lacy parasol when she strolled about the deck, but as the journey progressed, it seemed stupid and finicky to behave here like a lady in St. James’s Park. She had first done away with her crinoline, about which no one commented. Mrs. Stevens also didn’t wear one, and only owned very simple clothing anyway. Nora didn’t know if she came from modest roots, or if her position as the wife of a clergyman demanded the renunciation of luxury, but her garments were hardly different from those of the working-class women in the East End. However, she possessed a parasol, and always had it with her once the weather was better. Nora, however, left hers in the cabin. The thing bothered her when she tried to lean over the railing to spot dolphins and whales, and it was an effort to hold it steady when it was windy. There was often a stiff breeze on the Atlantic, and Nora loved to take down her hair, and let it blow across her face. Her pale complexion very quickly tanned in the sun and the sea air.
At first, Elias didn’t seem to notice, he practically only saw Nora at meals, which the passengers had along with the captain and his officers. In the officers’ mess below deck, it was always rather dark, and Elias didn’t seem to find his young wife so attractive that he couldn’t bear to take his eyes off her. Then, one day, he met her on the deck, her hair loose in the wind, and her face unprotected from the sun.
“Nora, are you out of your mind?” he exclaimed rudely, giving Nora a start. “Why are you running around here like this? Go get a parasol and a hat, or even better, go below deck as is befitting a lady!”
Nora furrowed her brow. “I haven’t been dallying with the men,” she said, offended.
In fact, only three sailors were working near her, and they had enough to do with the rigging and hardly seemed to notice Nora.
Elias made a dismissive gesture. “I should hope not,” he remarked. “It isn’t that I am not worried about that. The captain is a tough character, if one of his sailors got caught with one of you harlots, he would keelhaul him … but you … Lord in heaven, I haven’t got myself a lady from England, so that she can tan as brown as a mulatto here!” Nora couldn’t see what necessitated calling her a “harlot.” She did not quite understand what Elias wanted, but he was grabbing her firmly by the arm and pushing her towards the lower deck. “Now, go down immediately and do something with your face. Maybe bleach, or whatever else you might use to return it to the pallor of a gentlewoman. But don’t return with the face of a Negro in Kingston!”
Nora, who had no mirror at her disposal during the crossing, only just began to understand what this was about. She would have never thought, that the genteel paleness that they took care to maintain in England, was equally as important to the Jamaican planters; all the same, she restrained herself from that point onward. She had found Elias’s reaction excessive and offensive, but she also did not intend to stand out negatively in the high society of her new homeland. She could not imagine how she was to avoid slightly tanned skin in the long run, especially if she went out into the ubiquitous Caribbean sun and rode her horse. She had still not managed it with her rides and walks in St. James’s Park, but that made no difference to Simon.
Your skin is as golden as your hair, he would say admiringly, light and dark amber … you’re right, it would be unfortunate to cover it with powder.
In the last few weeks on the ship, however, Nora did exactly that. She wore makeup when she went out and remembered her sun hat, the acquisition of which was strongly advised by Lady Wentworth in London. After she had attempted to borrow one of Ruth Stevens’ bonnets, which shaded one’s face, Elias’s response had been almost as severe as it was when she had foregone her parasol.
“None of these servant’s clothes, Nora! I am bringing a lady to Cascarilla Gardens — I want you to dress and look accordingly!”
Nora considered the feeling before and at her wedding: it had not been deceptive. Elias Fortnam had wanted a doll, not a woman made of flesh and blood. But she had agreed to the deal. So, she would now do her best to satisfy her husband.
And then, after over sixty days at sea, Jamaica came into view. The captain had called his passengers on deck to take a first look at the island. Nora had actually wanted to charge up straight away, but a sharp glance from Elias held her back. As quickly as she could, she made herself up, powdered her hair, slipped into a farthingale, and put on her hat.
She felt angry and a bit bitter, when she finally followed Elias outside, but as she took her first look at the island, she felt only enchantment. Never, never before had she ever seen anything so beautiful; she could hardly contain her enthusiasm. The ship drifted forward in gentle movements over the light waves. The sea was rich green, and the sun glittered on waves that gently sloshed against a snow-white beach. Directly behind it was lush greenery — the mangrove forests she’d been promised. Dense jungle; full of promise and daunting, and yet, strangely familiar. Nora could embrace it all, she wanted to laugh and sing — but Elias surely expected her to act dignified. He looked more than disapprovingly at Ruth Stevens, who stood there in disbelief and uttered an expression of horror.
“But that is the jungle, John! That’s only beach and trees … there are certainly natives! I … I had thought Kingston would be a city—”
The reverend tried to calm his wife, while Elias looked at Nora with quiet pride, as she stood upright and beautiful, like a queen taking in her new kingdom. Elias Fortnam’s doll smiled distantly, but the spirit of Simon Greenborough’s lover danced. She felt for the pendant that she had been wearing since her departure. And suddenly, her lover was with her. She imagined feeling him again, being able to sense his happiness.
Nora had done it. She had found their island and brought his spirit home.
CHAPTER 5
The arrival on the island of Jamaica was, of course, not quite like the paradise in Nora’s dreams. The natives did not paddle her ashore, nor did the captain let them down in the bay of her fantasies. Instead, the ship just sailed past it. One section of coast after another proved beautiful, and Nora would have been happy to land anywhere. The schooner, however, headed into Kingston, a natural harbor around which they had created a city. After a fire that had destroyed the original settlement, the place had been rebuilt according to plan and quickly grew into a commercial center. It now overshadowed the capital city, Spanish Town.
Nora remembered how Simon had spoken of Kingston and Spanish Town. It was right here that he could have imagined a branch of Thomas Reed’s trading house, and Elias confirmed to Nora that many European import-export merchants were taking on a se
cond foothold in Jamaica. The port of Kingston was large and populated; the houses of the city seemed colorful and cheery. Nora knew, however, that this impression could be deceiving. Many cities in the Caribbean were seen as dens of vice, and it was not only fires, hurricanes, and earthquakes that threatened the larger community, but also often plagues that spread quickly in populous areas in sultry climates after sailors had introduced them. The organization of the new city of Kingston seemed to have already taken this danger into account, however. The streets were wide and the buildings well maintained; there was less rubbish around than in London.
Nonetheless, Ruth Stevens did not like her new homeland. Upon disembarkation, she immediately began to complain of the heat and humidity.
“Heavens, it seems as if one is breathing water,” she gasped.
Her heavy, dark cloth dress was hardly suitably for such a climate. Nora, however, was grateful for the expert advice she’d received from Lady Wentworth. In London, she’d already had silk dresses tailored, and now the admiring eyes of merchants and dock laborers followed her, as Elias led her across a makeshift ramp onto land.
He walked down the jetty with her as if they were at a dance in London — obviously proud to show the society of Kingston his latest acquisition.
Nora decided not to fret over it. The new world she had now reached was far too exciting to pay any mind to Elias. Naturally, the operations at Kingston harbor hardly differed from those that she had observed so often at the London docks. Nora was not impressed by the variety of loaded or unloaded goods, but rather the variety of people! The skin color of the dockworkers ranged between almost black to light brown. They worked without shirts, barefoot, wearing only loose white linen trousers. The supervisors were white, but often also tanned — and Nora was taken aback when she saw real whips in their hands. Most of them seemed to only have them as a matter of form, and Nora was about to relax again, but then she saw a hard blow on the back of a black worker.
The sound of it pierced through to Nora’s bones. It was not even comparable to the nearly inaudible clap of Peppers’ riding whip when it occasionally struck the well-padded backside of his horses. Here, there was no fur to dampen the hit — the whip struck bare skin. Merchants roamed around between workers and supervisors. Their attire — wig, jabot, and knee breeches — resembled that of Nora’s father. Captains and officers talked shop with each other. Melon sellers — also mostly black — drove around with fruit carts and offered refreshments. Crewmembers with time off happily went ashore, and young women in colorful dresses promisingly smiled at them. Some were light-skinned, with only slightly fuller lips, dark eyes, and dark hair. Others were deep black, with broad noses and curly hair. Nora knew that these were harbor prostitutes and that she was actually supposed to look away, but she couldn’t help but enjoy taking in the hustle and bustle with all of her senses. In the air were the smells of fruit and spices, but also of rotting, rancid fat, and smoke, which rose from the cookshops. The harbor pubs opened out to the docks, the boozers lingered around inside and out — and instead of the ubiquitous London gins, rum was primarily served here. Its aroma also mingled in with the smells of the harbor.
“Nora! Can you not hear me?”
In her fascination with the colorful world of the Kingston docks, Nora had not heard Elias introducing her to a merchant he’d obviously been speaking to. Nora smiled dutifully, but immediately forgot his name. She found the boy, following directly behind him, far more interesting. She could hardly believe how black a person’s skin could be! The boy also did not look sweaty and overheated like his master. His skin was dry and velvety in the sun. Nora listened as the merchant turned to him and apparently gave him an order, but in the general noise around her, she couldn’t understand what he was saying. The servant subsequently bowed and then set off away from the harbor.
“Mr. Frazer has been kind enough to notify Lord Hollister of our arrival,” Elias mentioned to Nora. “Hollister is a business friend, he will send us a wagon, and we will spend the night in his townhouse.”
Nora nodded, a little disappointed. She had hoped to continue directly onto Cascarilla Gardens. Of course, she also fancied exploring the city of Kingston, but she primarily longed for the bay in her dreams. Elias’s plantation lay near the sea. Nora could hardly wait to walk across the beach and feel the warmth of the sand under her feet. Moreover, Cascarilla Gardens was not all too far away, the plantation was a good five miles southeast of Spanish Town, and just as many southwest of Kingston. There had to be reasonably developed routes between the locations, so it should be possible for Elias’s possessions to reach there in less than half a day. On horseback, Nora could have easily made it in about an hour, but of course, she realized that Aurora couldn’t be discharged directly after the long time spent on the swaying ship and then have someone ride her. Not to mention what Elias would have had to say about it! He wanted to parade his English lady around and, to that end; an open carriage was undoubtedly better. That was probably also the reason why he wanted to spend an extra day in the city.
Nora felt impatient. Hopefully, he hadn’t planned a large dinner — as of yet, her dresses hadn’t even been unloaded. She would have to ask Lady Hollister to lend her a parasol, if she was to stay outdoors any longer on this day. Her own had been torn during the turbulent crossing. Of course, she still had quite a few more — one carried a silk parasol that matched the day’s dress — but they were still in her trunks in the belly of the ship. Perhaps it would even take longer than a day to unload everything! Nora sighed with impatience. She could accept a short stay, but she would absolutely insist on going to Cascarilla Gardens the next day!
Elias laughed when she expressed these thoughts. “Well, you just can’t wait to see your new home!” he teased her. “Quite good, quite promising — my first wife had tears in her eyes when she saw the deserted beaches from the ship, and did not want to leave the city at all.” It was the first time that he’d spoken of his late wife, and it was a bit embarrassing for Nora to be so openly compared with her. Especially since it sounded as if a hunting horse were being evaluated on the vigor with which it surpassed and obstacle … “But don’t worry, we’re leaving tomorrow. I don’t need to oversee the unloading. I certainly do not wish to borrow transport wagons and landau carriages from Hollister. So, today we’ll send a messenger to Cascarilla, and tomorrow the transport will be here. The horses will be discharged by then and can just run along.”
Nora bit her lip. “I don’t think so,” she disagreed. “We won’t be going very slowly the whole time, will we? Such a long distance to trot after more than two months of absolute immobility on the ship …”
Elias shrugged. “Whatever you say. Good that you mention it now; I’ll send over two Negroes to guide them over.”
Nora furrowed her brow. “Guide?” she asked. “So many miles? The people would have to run beside them for hours — and in this heat! Couldn’t they just stay with your friend in the stable until we come to the city next? Surely you come here relatively often, and then I could ride Aurora home.”
Elias guffawed. “Nora, believe me, for the boys it’ll be a reward if they may spend a few hours walking with such a horse instead of cutting sugar cane. And surely you don’t also think that I’ve sent a coach for the way out, too? The blacks are all good runners, don’t worry!”
Nora found this disconcerting — there would already be a transport wagon coming with them, why not let the people simply get on? But then she saw something that disturbed her even more than the unreasonable demand of having a servant go a few miles by foot. Another ship had opened its hatches to unload its cargo and people were stumbling out. Nora stared on shock at the roughly sixty blacks — most of whom were young men, but there were also a few woman among them, laboriously dragging themselves outside in chains. They were squinting. Had they been kept below deck for the entire journey?”
“Where are they from?” Nora asked, flatly.
Elias followed her g
aze. “Ivory Coast, Congo … you’d have to ask the captain. But don’t look when they are freshly unloaded, it is not a pretty sight.” He grinned. “You said yourself that your horse would be stiff after not having moved in three months. It’s no different for them.”
Nora looked at Elias, appalled. “You can’t compare the two! If we pack the horses in crates it is for their own protection at sea. But here, these are people, Elias, you can’t corral them like … like—”
“They are slaves, Nora,” Elias said calmly. “And if the skipper corralled them, then it was for his own protection! What if there was an uprising on the ship? Forty young, strong chaps!”
The men were certainly young, but they looked to be anything other than strong after the exhausting crossing. Nora saw exhaustion, hopelessness, and shame in their eyes — just as she had in Simon’s after his home and status had been taken away. Nora’s understanding and sympathy outweighed any disconcertment over the color of their skin. Whether black or white, these were people like her and, likewise, they could feel just like her!
“They are sick,” Nora gasped, “or injured.” One could see traces of blood on their skin. Perhaps not at first glance, but Nora was a sharp observer. “And they should not … they should not be naked.”
She felt silly as soon as she had finished speaking, and Elias also laughed. These people were ripped from their families — the fact that they had been stripped of their clothing hardly played a role. Nevertheless, Nora almost felt as if this last humiliation was the worst. The men at the harbor, black and white, looked wantonly at the breasts of the young women who were now being herded ashore. And they were not even pretty — the women were so emaciated that their breasts hung down like empty leather bags. Even the men were reduced to skeletons.
