by James Fearn
Returning home from town one afternoon, Anna was confronted by two well-dressed gentlemen standing on her veranda. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Francis,’ said one politely. ‘My colleague and I would like to help you.’
They seemed genuine enough, but Anna kept her guard nevertheless. ‘May we come in to explain what we can do for you?’ he said.
‘Oh, I’d prefer to discuss anything with you out here, if you don’t mind,’ said Anna wisely.
‘Very well, Mrs Francis. It has come to our attention that there is quite a large debt owing on your late husband’s property, and we are here to make you a generous offer to purchase it.’ Anna’s eye caught sight of a large carpetbag resting against the veranda post. How did they know of her situation? Anna called the children to her side.
‘Mrs Francis, we’re prepared to offer yer $850 for the property. You can ’ave cash in hand right now. You can pay yer debt and have some left over.’ The man reached into his bag and drew out a roll of Confederate bills, which he flicked with his fingers.
Anna looked at the money. Never had she seen so much in a man’s hand before. Her financial concerns were always at the back of her mind and, on the surface of it, this seemed like a good proposition. With the debt paid, she could go back to Tasmania and start again as Mary had suggested. There was little to keep her here in Louisiana.
But, remembering Jesse’s advice, she hesitated to make a decision on the spur of the moment. ‘I need time to consider you proposal, gentlemen. It sounds a good deal to me, but I need a little time to think it through. Come back in seven days and I’ll give you my decision. Perhaps we can do business.’
That same evening, after the children had fallen asleep in Molly’s care, Anna slipped over to the Godbehere’s place to discuss the men’s proposal with Jesse and Mary. Jesse was sitting in his favourite lounge chair puffing his pipe as Anna was ushered into the room by one of the house girls. That was the beautiful drawing room where she and John had first been interviewed. At Jesse’s invitation, she sat in the same chair that John occupied so long ago.
The events of Anna’s encounter with the carpetbaggers on her veranda that afternoon took little time to explain. ‘What do think, Jesse? Is it a reasonable deal?’ she asked. Jesse stared at the floor without flickering an eyelid. Anna found the sweet aroma of his pipe most pleasurable.
Suddenly, Jesse looked up from the floor, drew his pipe from his lips, and exhaled slowly and deliberately. He rose to his feet and walked slowly to the fireplace.
‘Anna,’ he said. ‘You say that you’ve come for ma advice. Then I must tell yer that those men are out to swindle you. You’ll ’ave nothin’ to do with their offer if y’re wise.’
Anna was taken aback by Jesse’s forthrightness. Why was he so opposed? Did he want to buy back the farm at a bargain price? No, that couldn’t be true. Jesse was a most honourable man.
‘You see, Anna, the country’s goin’ through a very difficult time economically. Louisiana is sufferin’ from very sever inflation right now. You’ve surely noticed how prices are risin’. This means that our Confederate dollars are losin’ their value. And they’ll be absolutely worthless when the Federal greenbacks are issued. By payin’ you Confederate dollars for yer property, those cowboys’ll be gettin’ a bargain. An’ you’ll get pretty-well nothin’.’
Anna was not sure what Jesse was talking about. But she remembered John’s trust in the man and, so, was prepared to accept his judgement.
‘Tell you what we’ll do, Anna,’ he said. ‘Mary ’ere has come into an inheritance an’ she wants to ’elp yer. If you wanna sell up an’ go ’ome to Australia, we’ll buy yer farm for its true value. An’ what’s more we’ll pay yer in gold. That’ll keep its value an’ when yer get ’ome y’all have somethin’ to set y’reself up with.’
Jesse knew current property values, and reckoned that $1,100 was a fair price in the current economic climate. With this Anna could pay out her debt and take $400 in gold with her.
‘Don’t rush yer decision. Get others advice if yer want to. But don’t yer let ’em swindlers take yer down,’ emphasised Jesse.
But all thought of the sale and departure for home was soon brought to a halt when, two days later, Anna went into labour with the imminent birth of her fourth child. Molly again assisted as midwife. This was a relatively easy birth, and John Thomas Francis was ushered into this world unceremoniously in the winter of January 1865.
Her youngest son’s birth had convinced Anna of the Godbehere’s advice. Jesse’s suggestion and Mary’s generosity brought Anna to her decision. Jesse was right. Post-war Louisiana is no place for an Australian widow to raise her family alone. Better to agree to the sale.
The announcement that Anna and her three children were to leave Louisiana was received by Moses and Molly with great sadness. Their friendship with this Australian family had meant much to them. They had appreciated the warm acceptance of John and Anna, and they adored the children. Their relationship with Anna’s children eased the ongoing sadness of having none of their own.
With the date of Anna’s departure fixed, Moses and Molly asked if they could talk to Anna. ‘Ah’m told de roads and de rivers around dese parts is mighty unsafe dese days, Mrs Anna,’ said Moses. ’Dey say dere are army deserters and bands of riotin’ blacks causin’ a bunch o’ troubles for de white folks. We want t’ come with yer and the children t’ make sure you travel safe to de steamboat which takes yer down de ribber.’ Anna was overcome with their love and loyalty, and suggested that they ask Jesse if he was happy for this to happen.
The plan was to go by wagon train across country to Smithport, a stopping point on the Bayou Pierre which ran into the Red River, thence down the Mississippi to New Orleans and across the Atlantic to Liverpool in England.
Anna’s final task before leaving the once-beautiful town of Mansfield was to pay a visit to John’s grave at Mansfield Cemetery. Moses and Molly accompanied the family as they went to say farewell to John for the last time. Molly had tears in her eyes as Anna planted a yellow rose on the grave and asked Moses to tend it for her. Bending low, Anna kissed the little headstone with its simple inscription, ‘John Francis—my hero’. She stood up slowly, took Anola and William by the hand, and walked away resolutely.
Because of the danger on the roads, a train of wagons carrying refugees South set out from Mansfield on the following day. Anna and her family travelled lightly. The children were dressed in their best outfits made from old curtain material, and Anna carried her gold and a few possessions in a large locked bag. Among her sentimental valuables, John’s small army camp oven held pride of place.
The travellers accompanied by Moses and Molly sat on top of a bullock-drawn wagon similar to that which John once drove between Melbourne and Ballarat and joined a dozen or so other families making the journey South with them. The back roads of Louisiana were choked with refugees—some going South hopeful of finding work in Baton Rouge or New Orleans, and others going West towards Texas.
‘Look, Anna,’ said Molly. She was pointing at two women sitting by the side of the road, weeping and begging. They explained that their farm houses had been destroyed and their children killed in the last few days of the war. Anna’s heart went out to them, but the leader of the wagon train refused to stop lest it should be a trap.
For several days, the wagons trundled over the rough shell-blasted roads, across shallow bayous and through mosquito-ridden swamps. Anna was particularly concerned about the children in those circumstances. Anola had already suffered from a bout of malaria, and, so, she sat every night watching over them while they slept, dozing fitfully herself.
Upon their arrival at Smithport, Anna turned to farewell her dear friends. Holding Molly’s hands, Anna fought to hold back her tears as she thanked them for their love, their loyalty and support during the dark days that had passed. She kissed them both, gathered up her children, and
stepped aboard the waiting steamboat. The travellers stood in the stern of the boat waving to Moses and Molly as the paddle wheels began to turn, and the boat steamed away from the jetty. For more than a quarter of an hour William and Anola kept waving to Moses as his great frame grew smaller and smaller in the distance and finally disappeared from view.
As the steamboat sailed into the Red River, they saw a number of vessels steaming upstream. Anola was the first to comment, ‘Look at all the boats, Mummy,’ she said. ‘Where are they going?’
‘They’re running supplies up to Shreveport from New Orleans, I think,’ responded Anna.
At the mouth of the river, where it flows into the great Mississippi, Anna was surprised to see four Federal gunboats lying at anchor, their guns pointed in the direction of oncoming vessels. The steamboat Captain explained to his passengers that only a month ago it had been impossible to enter the Mississippi without inspection by the gunboats’ crews. Passengers carrying gold had been forced to surrender it to the Federals. ‘Better go below, outa sight!’ he ordered. ‘If they cain’t see too many on deck, the chances are they won’t stop us.’
Anna did what she was told. From the porthole of her cabin she could see the gunboat. It was little more than thirty yards away when they drew level with it. Anna held her breath, as one of the crew inspected the steamboat carefully with his telescope. She uttered a sigh of relief when the officer on duty turned his back and moved away from the railing. Anna was grateful that her plan to escape to Britain had not been thwarted by untoward circumstances, and she awaited the arrival at New Orleans eagerly.
Anna’s memory of the Crescent City, one of the world’s great ports of the time, had scarcely faded despite the intervening war years. Although many of the port’s buildings were badly damaged as a result of the war, she was able to recognise many of them as the steamboat tied up at the wharf. The office where she and John had arranged their passage North stood undamaged, enshrining sacred memories for her.
‘Come this way, m’ dear,’ said the Captain, taking Anna’s arm and escorting her to a neighbouring wharf.
‘Thank you, sir,’ she said. She was glad to realise that some of the old-world chivalries still flourished. William and Anola gazed at the large steamship they saw before them in awe. This was the Lady Varina, an ocean-going screw sloop which carried cargo and a small number of passengers around the East Coast to New York whence they would sail across the Atlantic.
The Lady Varina was a sturdy vessel with a single funnel aft of the mast. A thin whisp of white smoke rose from the funnel, and coloured flags decorated the rigging. A prettier sight was hard to see in this harbour of commerce. Black vendors selling flowers, fruit, and candy advertised their wares to the passing crowd with a show that might well have earned them a place on a Music Hall program. William giggled happily at the juggler throwing five balls into the air. ‘Such a party atmosphere! Just like the good old days!’ thought Anna to herself. ‘What a contrast to the gloom and drabness of the past few years!’
Within an hour, the Lady Varina had weighed anchor and was steaming slowly down river, headed for the ocean. The children saw people waving to them from the riverbank, and returned their greetings with enthusiasm. Anna surveyed the happy scene, and began to feel that the danger she had feared was not going to be experienced. Perhaps she could find peace again. Her children needed that opportunity.
They had travelled some seventy-five miles when they passed beneath the cannons of Fort St Philip on the East of the river. A little further downstream another star-shaped masonry battlement known as Fort Jackson covered the western side of the river. Nearby, Anna could see the iron dreadnought, Louisiana tied up at a small wharf. Her heavy guns were still pointing menacingly at passing ships. The size and aggression of this monster sent a shiver of fear down her spine. ‘No wonder the blockade of the Mississippi and been so devastatingly effective,’ she thought.
Less than a day’s sailing from New Orleans, the Captain of the Lady Varina called the passengers and crew together. ‘The glass is dropping rapidly. We’re in for rough weather, perhaps even a twister,’ he said. ‘I want all passengers to go to their cabins and to stay there,’ he ordered sternly. Already the wind had picked up to gale force, and the ship was rolling quite violently. This was the western Atlantic, well-known for its squalls and cyclones. Several passengers had succumbed to seasickness and were doubled over the ship’s railings. William’s face was as white as a sheet, and he clung to his mother to maintain his balance.
‘Quick! Into the cabin!’ said Anna, ushering the children to safety. She could tell the storm was intensifying. She had heard about the ferocity of the cyclones that were common in this part of America, but she had never experienced them in inland Louisiana where they had lived.
Anna cradled John in her arms and directed William and Anola to get into bed and lie as still as possible. ‘Is the ship going to sink, Mummy?’ said Anola with fear in her voice.
‘No, my dear,’ said Anna, reassuringly. ‘The Captain knows how to sail the ship. He’ll steer the right course. Just trust him.’
‘I’m frightened,’ whimpered William.
‘We’ll be safe. God will take care of us. You’ll see,’ said Anna. But her stomach was in a knot. ‘If it’s a real twister’, she thought, ‘we’re going to have a terrible night.’ She extinguished the candles lest they should fall and cause a fire. The awful spectre of John’s death in the fire at Mansfield flashed before her eyes.
For several hours, the steamboat pitched and rolled before the howling winds. Basins and jugs of water in the cabins slid and crashed to the floor, and William was violently ill over his blanket. All of a sudden, the ferocious winds abated as if by magic, and the ship ceased her tortuous movements. There was a deathly quiet.
‘The storm’s over, Mother,’ said Anola, throwing back the bedclothes and jumping out of her bed.
‘Get back into bed at this instant,’ said Anna sternly. ‘We’re in the eye of the cyclone and who knows how long we’ll be in it.’ The little girl had no idea what her mother meant, but did what she was told. Anna’s warning was timely, for within ten minutes the ship began to roll and pitch violently once more. They could hear the massive waves crashing over the ship as the Captain struggled to keep his vessel facing into the wind. Anna was thankful that she could still hear the throb of the engines. At least, they were not drifting helplessly.
At least an hour had elapsed before the wind and the waves subsided, allowing the Lady Varina to continue safely towards New York. Anna had faced storms and fires before, but, without John to give her confidence, this had been one of the most frightening experiences of her life.
The arrival in New York Harbour, two days later, was welcome indeed. William was weak from seasickness, and Anna was looking forward to a day or so on dry land before tackling the long voyage to England. But that was not to be. To her surprise, she noticed that the Brittania, a transatlantic barque-rigged vessel was sailing that night. This ship had considerable canvass and coal-fired paddle engines. Brittania and other vessels of her class had a good reputation for speed on the Atlantic run.
As she entered the booking office, Anna was directed to wait at the end of a queue.
A fresh-faced booking clerk sat at the table at the head of the queue. Anna was somewhat apprehensive. She wondered if her late arrival in the queue would reduce her chances of getting a passage.
After twenty minutes, Anna had reached the clerk’s table. ‘Sorry, ma’am. We’ve only gotten a small bottom deck cabin left that’ll take a family like yours,’ said the clerk. ‘Ah need to tell yer that it’s not too airy.’
‘When do you sail again?’ asked Anna.
‘In ten days time,’ came the reply.
‘Then I’ll take this one,’ she said without hesitation. ‘Anything to get away from this place.’ The clerk looked up from his journal momentarily, raised h
is eyebrows, and returned to his work.
‘There we are, ma’am. One adult and two children—New York to Liverpool. No charge for the baby. The ship sails at seven tonight. So you’ve got four hours to get yourself organised,’ said the clerk, motioning a porter to carry her few possession to the cabin.
When the door of the cabin was opened, Anna was greeted with darkness. The dank air suggested that it had not been opened for some time. The shutter of a small porthole high up on the opposite wall was opened by the porter, admitting a thin shaft of light. Anna was appalled at the dust that covered the bunks. ‘I can’t possibly occupy this cabin until you have it cleaned,’ said Anna indignantly and marched straight out into the afternoon sunlight, leaving the porter somewhat perplexed.
By four o’clock, the cabin had been made presentable, and Anna and her family had settled in for the long voyage East. She sat on her bunk, lost in thought. Have I done the right thing? Will we find John’s family in England? Will they accept us? How I wish John was with us.
The sun was just setting over the clear horizon when the Brittania’s hooter blasted its farewell. The seagulls perched on her rigging, scattered with a flurry. The children, standing at the stern railing, gazed in fascination at the churning water behind the ship. Never before had they seen so much water.
‘New York’s a big place, isn’t it?’ said Anola, looking up at the docks where the ships of many nations were tied up.
‘There are ships from all over the world in this port,’ said Anna.
‘Just look at all those flags. That one over there is pretty,’ observed William.
‘That’s the flag of Great Britain,’ said his mother. ‘We are going there.’
‘Is the war happening there too?’ queried Anola.
