‘Bosun, cast the log,’ ordered William.
‘By the mark five, muddy bottom,’ cried the larboard leadsman.
‘Six and a half knots, Sir,’ called the bosun, coiling down the log line.
‘Thank you.’
William’s mind calculated the information. If the Albatross was doing six and a half knots with the ebb, and the mid-channel buoy was nearly three miles from their anchorage, they should see the buoy in about thirty minutes.
He raised his telescope and focused where he expected the buoy to be, but was unable to see anything.
‘By the mark three, sandy bottom!’ came the cry from the starboard leadsman.
‘What’s her head?’ shouted William as he hurried to check the compass.
‘Due north!’
‘Bring her round to north by nor’-west.’
The tide was pushing the Albatross on to the sandbank.
‘North by nor’-west,’ came the reply from the helmsman.
‘By the deep six, muddy bottom,’ called the larboard leadsman.
‘By the deep six, muddy bottom,’ from the starboard side.
William let out a sigh, and quickly covered it with a cough. He didn’t want the crew to be aware of his concern. The clouds now covered the sky, shutting out even a glimmer of moonlight. They were blind. ‘Time?’
‘Half hour sand just turned, Sir,’ said the second mate.
William walked to the starboard side and tried to peer into the blackness. Where was the buoy?
‘Keep a sharp lookout to starboard,’ shouted William to the crew on deck.
‘We need to find the buoy.’
The sound of three bells forward caused William to aim his telescope ahead of the ship. Three strikes of the bell told him that the lookout had seen something dead ahead.
‘Something in the water dead ahead, Sir,’ confirmed the cry from forward.
‘Steer …’ shouted William.
A cracking sound forward followed by a scraping sound interrupted him.
‘We hit the buoy, Sir,’ shouted the bow lookout.
‘By the mark three, sandy bottom,’ shouted the starboard leadsman.
William leaned over the taffrail on the starboard side in an effort to make out what had happened. The scraping sound grew louder, and suddenly the buoy came in to view as it banged its way down the side of the Albatross.
‘Steer nor’-nor’-west.’
‘Nor’-nor’-west, Sir.’
‘Mr Austin, go with the carpenter and check for damage,’ ordered William.
He moved to the helmsman and checked the compass. It was nor’-nor’-west.
The tide was stronger than he anticipated. He had to make sure that they didn’t go too far over to the other side of the channel, or they’d run aground.
‘By the deep eight, muddy bottom,’ called the larboard leadsman.
‘Steer north, helmsman.’
‘North, Sir.’
‘The tide is stronger, Captain,’ called James Austin, returning to the poop deck.
‘Yes, the tide will run faster and faster as the ebb takes hold. Did you find anything?’
‘No, Sir, all dry. The carpenter will do another round in an hour.’
‘Thank you.’
‘If we keep this speed, James, we should see the next buoy in a few minutes. When we reach it, I will alter course to due west. I suggest you have the crew on standby for the sails. We will not have much time as the gap between the buoy and the sandbank to larboard is very small.’
‘Aye, aye, Sir, the wind has freshened with the tide.’
William glanced at the sky, so dark that he couldn’t even see the clouds scudding overhead. He quietly voiced his thoughts to his first mate. ‘I would have preferred a moon tonight, but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.’
‘We’ll get through, Sir, don’t worry.’
‘Thank you, James.’
The first mate saluted as he left to organise the crew for the change of course and sails.
A single stroke on the forward bell told him the lookout had seen the buoy.
‘Where away?’ called William.
‘A point on the starboard bow!’
They were inside the channel.
‘Standby, Mr Austin!’
‘All ready, Sir.’
William moved to the starboard side again and strained his eyes to see the buoy.
‘By the mark five, sand and mud,’ called the larboard leadsman.
They were close to the sandbank.
‘By the deep four, sandy bottom!’ the larboard leadsman called again.
‘By the deep four, muddy bottom!’ called out the starboard leadsman.
They were running down the very edge of the bank. William still couldn’t find the buoy.
He leaned further out over the rail in an effort to see better when he felt rain. He glanced up at the clouds, now lit as lightning flashed. The roll of thunder was so loud he thought the ship had struck the bank. A second flash lit the sea astern, and in the instant of the flash, William saw the buoy as it bobbed in the rising swell of the storm, half a mile astern.
‘Hard a larboard!’ he bellowed. ‘Put her over!’
William rushed to the helmsman as another clap of thunder put an end to anyone hearing his orders.
Reaching the helmsman, William pushed him aside and pulled on the giant wheel to turn the Albatross to larboard. They were about to run into the sandbank, dead ahead.
The helmsman saw his captain hauling on the wheel. He jumped up and added his strength to help.
‘Now, Mr Austin, now!’ bellowed William. William watched the mainsails drop from the yards and fill in the wind. ‘Have you got her?’ William yelled at the helmsman.
‘Aye, Sir, I have her now.’
‘Steer west.’
‘Aye, aye, steer west.’
‘By the mark ten, sand and gravel!’ cried the starboard leadsman.
‘Well, Mr Austin, it worked,’ said William, with both relief and pride. ‘We are clear of the river and the sandbanks. When we are further out in to the Irish Sea, alter course south, which will take us clear of the Welsh coast.’
The Liverpool Lass sailed a week after the Albatross. Henry had the trade goods unloaded, and the slave quarters knocked down so that more suitable goods for sale in Boston could be loaded. He used every stitch of canvas to catch the Albatross. The wind was fair but Henry kept careful watch on the masts. He did not want the Lass to lose a mast in his haste to catch his quarry. He spent most of each day on deck, and refined the sails in an effort to get every bit of speed from the wind. The lack of female company onboard put him in a very poor mood.
The Liverpool Lass arrived in Boston thee days after the Albatross, and berthed some distance away. Henry did not wish to attract too much attention from William.
Henry met his father’s agent, Mr Leather, and between them they organised an auction to sell the contents of the Lass.
‘What do you know of the Albatross, and her captain?’ asked Henry of the agent.
‘He has dealings with Abraham Judson, by letter of introduction from Liverpool.’
‘I want you to keep an eye on him, and the Jew Judson. I want to know everything they do, where they go and what cargo he carries.’
‘He could be here for some time. There is little cargo at this time of the year for England. Perhaps later there will be some salt fish from the North.’
‘I don’t care what the cargo is, just get me the same, to make sure it carries me to the same place to which King is destined. I don’t trust the man.’
‘As you say, Sir, I will do my best.’
‘Make sure your best fits my needs, or we may have a falling out.’
The agent made to speak, but stopped as he peered into Henry’s eyes. He knew this man would hurt him if he did not comply with his request. He felt suddenly very hot, and a small rivulet of sweat from under his fashionable wig ran down the back of his neck.
‘What kind of entertainment do you have in Boston?’ asked Henry.
‘It depends on what is your fancy, Captain, boys or girls.’
‘I have some special needs, and I am not bothered which it is, but on the whole I have found I relax more with a woman.’
‘May I enquire about your special needs, Captain.’
‘You may not!’
‘Captain, I do not wish to pry, but unless I know what you want, I cannot supply your needs.’
Henry’s face softened as he realised the agent was correct, and he must have some idea of his special needs.
‘Shall we say I like to discipline my friends?’
‘Exactly, Captain, now that I am aware, I will make enquiries and let you know tomorrow.’
‘I am glad we understand each other. Until tomorrow then.’ Henry stood, picked up his hat and left the agent’s office without another word.
The agent mopped his brow and with hands that shook poured himself a large drink. After swallowing the rough rum he realised how long it had been since he’d drank before noon. Henry Nicholson’s cold dead-fish eyes frightened him. He consoled himself that the drink was medicinal to calm his nerves.
He then realised the dilemma that he was in. Where would he find a woman with similar tastes to Captain Nicholson?
Chapter Fifteen
Another Proposal
Liverpool
February 1806
George King stood in front of a full-length mirror and admired his new clothes. He wore a plain dark green, single-breasted coat with a black velvet collar. It buttoned with a slight strain over his growing waistline. The tailor had persuaded him that a vertical broad-striped waistcoat would make him appear a little slimmer. He turned from side to side to admire his image. His pants were of a light-coloured soft woollen cloth cut to the latest fashion of calf length, fitting well into his new Hessian boots. He fluffed up his white silk neck cloth and positioned a diamond stud to be visible but not ostentatious. The tailor informed him that fluffed up neck cloths were last year’s fashion, so he pulled his a little tighter to smooth out the excess.
He felt well groomed and he cut a dash. He hoped Charlotte thought the same.
Donald had acknowledged that George would ask for Charlotte’s hand in marriage today. George felt sure she would agree, but even so, he didn’t want to leave anything to chance.
He absent-mindedly stroked his new hat while recalling the past few weeks. William was happy and enthusiastic about his future, and had sailed for America on Christmas Eve. It was a shame they could not work together, but George did not believe the end of the African trade would come about in his lifetime.
He could not understand why Charlotte had taken a dislike to William. She hadn’t a good word to say about him. George hoped the two would become friends, after he married her.
A light tap on the door broke into George’s thoughts. Alfred entered the room. ‘The coach is ready, Sur.’
‘Thank you, Alfred. What do you think?’ George gestured to his overall appearance.
‘The perfect gentleman, Sur.’
‘Are you implying unless I wear these clothes, I am not a gentleman?’ The smile on his lips carried to his eyes.
‘Sur?’
‘Never mind, Alfred.’ George placed his new hat on his head. ‘Let us away, I have a very important appointment this afternoon.’
At the main entrance hall, the parlour maid opened the door. George could see the coach waiting outside. The brasswork and the paint shone like new.
‘You worked hard on the coach, Alfred, well done. Take the long way to Mr Nicholson’s place.’
‘Yes, Sur.’
George felt at peace with the world as the coach began to move. Heavy rain during the previous week had cleansed the streets of dirty snow. Even the sky had changed from a dull grey to a light blue, in reverence of his important day. He sighed as he watched the scenery pass. Duke Street was his normal route to town, but at the bottom of the street they would turn left into Paradise Street, and then left again into Park Lane.
It was always a beautiful ride along Park Lane to the new Toxteth Park. The smells, in early spring, of the country and the river complimented each other. He loved the gentle climb to Charlotte’s home, with its commanding views across the river and the anchored ships.
Donald Nicholson’s nearest neighbour was St James’s Church, its church bells the only interruption to the overall tranquility of a Sunday. The Nicholson house had set a new standard.
The coach came to a halt in front of imposing colonnades, fashioned in the form of black slaves holding up the roof of the porch area. Each time George visited this home, the house appeared grander than the time before.
Donald’s household was a mixture of black and white servants. The only difference was that the white servants could leave if they wished, but the black servants were bound to the Nicholson family because they didn’t have anywhere to go.
Donald Nicholson came forward, his hand outstretched as George stepped down from the coach. ‘Welcome, George!’
‘Thank you, Donald,’ answered George, shaking his host’s hand.
‘How are you?’
‘How do you think? I have never been so nervous.’
‘If it is any consolation, Charlotte is also nervous, so you will be a pigeon pair,’ laughed Donald. ‘We will take tea in the withdrawing room.’
On entering the room George saw Charlotte and her mother studying something in the garden. The large open glass doors allowed access to a flagged area. He could see a glass-topped table surrounded by four metal chairs. The table was laid for afternoon tea. The two women turned as the men approached.
‘Good afternoon, Mr King,’ said Sarah.
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Nicholson.’
‘I think we should do away with the formalities, don’t you, my dear?’ said Donald to his wife.
‘If you wish. Will you take tea, er, George?’
‘Thank you, Mrs, er, Sarah. Good afternoon, Charlotte,’ said George, bowing his head.
‘How are you, George?’
George gave her a weak smile and ran a finger inside the edge of his neck cloth. ‘A little warm, but otherwise I am fine, thank you.’
‘Do sit yourself down, George,’ said Donald, full of bonhomie.
‘You look very smart,’ commented Charlotte.
‘Oh, thank you.’
‘Lemon or milk, er, George.’
‘Lemon please, Sarah.’
The tea was poured, with great ceremony, into dainty teacups. Small ham sandwiches were handed around on a decorated china plate. The conversation did not seem to be going well. George did his best to ignore the small trickle of sweat that slid silently down his face.
‘You appear hot, George, for such a time of year,’ remarked Sarah.
‘Well …’ gasped George, trying desperately to think of something funny or lighthearted to say.
‘Come, my dear,’ said Donald, and offered his arm to his wife, ‘I thought you wanted to show me the new work in the garden?’
‘Work?’ whispered Sarah, and gazed at her husband as if he had lost his mind.
‘Yes, Dear, come along. Now is a good time to show me. You don’t mind if we leave you and Charlotte. Do you, George? I have promised Sarah, for some time, that I will inspect the new work.’
‘Not at all, not at all,’ said George, standing up again.
‘We will be about half an hour or so, if it is all right with you. Do look after George, Charlotte.’
Donald and Sarah linked arms and disappeared down the steps that led to the extensive garden.
‘Well, well,’ said George, and put down his plate of half-eaten sandwich. He pulled out a large green handkerchief and mopped his brow.
‘We are alone now, George.’
‘Yes, yes, indeed.’
’More tea?’
‘I think I will.’
Charlotte poured the tea and placed a fresh slice of lemon
in the cup. She sat back in her chair, hands lightly clasped in her lap, and gazed expectantly at George.
‘Thank you,’ he said. George finished wiping his face and returned the handkerchief to his pocket. ‘Charlotte,’ said George, wriggling in his chair.
‘Yes, George?’
‘Charlotte, my dear.’
‘Mmm?’ she said, and watched George while she made her eyes appear large and open. She placed a hand on his arm in an effort to stop him moving.
‘We have known each other a long time, haven’t we?’
‘Some years now, George.’
‘I have grown very, very fond of you, and I wondered if my feelings were reciprocated?’
‘Reciprocated, George? In what way do you mean?’
‘I am a lot older than you, and I have been married before, but my feelings for you are very strong. I wish I was twenty years younger and that I could say what I want to say.’
‘George, dear, I think you babble …’ She smiled to take any sting out of her comment.
‘Babble. Oh dear, am I?’
‘Just a little. Is there something you wish to say to me?’
‘Say to you? Oh, yes, there is.’
‘Well, George, Father will be back soon, and we will not be able to speak so freely if he is listening.’
‘Yes, yes, of course, you are right. Do you like me a little?’
‘I like you a lot, George. I always have.’
‘Have you?’ his hands flapped in his nervousness. ‘I am so pleased.’
She sat and waited for him to make the next move.
To Charlotte, George was weak, but he could be manoeuvred to her advantage. A good life with a rich, older man was more attractive than a young man struggling to make his way in the world. She would marry George, whether George liked it or not. Their marriage would be her first step in revenge against William.
Her plan had been ruined when William refused to take her to his ship. Attending the Albatross, without a chaperone, would have so compromised William that he would have had to marry Charlotte. She would have gained the man, the hero of the hour, and she would have also gained access to his father’s money by being the dutiful daughter-in-law. Charlotte marrying William would be the best of both worlds. Unfortunately, she would now have to marry the father and block any chances of William having access to his father’s money.
Triangle Trade Page 15
