Triangle Trade

by Geoff Woodland

  An embarrassed ship’s captain dismounted from his horse and handed the reins to a grinning servant. William summoned what little composure he could muster and walked into Mamre in time to see Ruth shake her head and allow her black hair to fall over her shoulders.

  ‘Next time we will have a race out at sea!’

  ‘On sea horses?’ asked Ruth, and laughed.

  ‘I give up. You win.’

  William experienced a sadness when the coach pulled away from Mamre. He wanted to see a lot more of Ruth in the future. Perhaps he was wrong about the attention she gave James Austin.

  ‘Well, William, did you enjoy your ride?’

  ‘I had a wonderful time, Abraham, and cannot thank you enough for your hospitality. What a beautiful home you have. The countryside makes me compare Liverpool in a very unfavourable light.’

  ‘We all do that, my boy, but home is where the heart is, not the physical building. Tell me more of the idea you touched on over lunch.’

  William gathered his thoughts. He wanted to make sure he could communicate his idea in the best possible way.

  ‘We don’t have a cargo at this time of the year for carriage to England, nor do we have a cargo for the West Indies. To put it correctly, we didn’t have a cargo until this morning.’

  ‘This morning? Did you meet someone when you were out riding?’

  ‘The last thing I wanted to do this morning was to share Ruth with anyone else.’

  Abraham scrutinised William, his eyes questioning, and raised his eyebrows in emphasis.

  ‘Abraham, don’t look like that. I like Ruth a lot, and we enjoyed a good time on the ice. It was a very special day for me because I got to know your daughter a little better than yesterday. However, I believe I have found a way out of our dilemma.’

  ‘I do wish you would get to the point, or else we will be in Boston before I hear the idea.’

  ‘We will carry ice to the West Indies!’

  ‘Ice? Are you mad? Is this the brilliant idea I have waited for, ice to the Caribbean?’

  ‘Think about it, Abraham.‘

  ‘Think about it, you are mad? Who ever heard of sending ice to the Tropics? It will melt before you get out of Boston harbour. You must think of something else, or take a lower profit and buy the ballast. The only other thing you could do is wait out the winter and perhaps carry a cargo of salt fish from Newfoundland to England.’

  ‘I will not wait out the winter as I don’t have the time. My voyage was too well advertised. I can’t allow all our efforts to stagnate while I wait for winter to pass.’

  ‘But, William, the ice will melt and fill your vessel with water.’

  ‘If we have melted ice in the ship, we will pump it overboard. We do that now when sea water enters the hold.’

  ‘When the ice melts it will lighten your ship, and she will become unstable without ballast.’

  ‘Insulation, my dear friend, insulation. You gave me the idea yesterday, but I did not realise it until I saw your frozen lake this morning.’

  ‘How so?’ Abraham’s tone was no longer so negative.

  ‘Last night you gave me a whisky that contained a piece of ice. It was not the first time that I have received ice in a drink.’

  ‘They use ice in England?’

  ‘To a small extent yes, but when on the Mediterranean trade I would visit Father’s agents and they would offer me chilled drinks in the summer-chilled by the use of ice. They harvested the ice in the winter and stored it on the coast in icehouses. The ice came from the Alps. So if they can carry ice from the mountains to the hot coast of the Mediterranean, and keep it frozen until the summer, then the few weeks to the West Indies should not be a problem.’

  ‘Where will you get the ice?’

  ‘The best place I can think of now is your lake, Mamre Lake. It is currently frozen to at least two feet thick. We can have it harvested and transported to Boston. The weather is cold enough to stop it melting while in transit. I will have the Albatross insulated, based on what I can remember from my time in the Mediterranean.’

  ‘If the ice survives the voyage to Jamaica, will you throw it overboard?’

  ‘If I have to, I will, but I will first try to find a buyer. Whatever I receive for the residual ice is more than I would get for dumping the stones. There may not be a lot of ice left by the time we get to Jamaica, but suppose we manage to reduce the speed of melting, what price ice in the Tropics?’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Liverpool Lass

  Boston

  Henry Nicholson drew deeply on his small cigar as he thought of the best way to make a profit and scuttle the efforts of William King. The idea of succeeding in both brought a smile to his cruel face. He glanced at the body next to him and gave it a hard kick with the heel of his foot.

  ‘Get up, you!’ he shouted.

  The body moved and groaned. A woman’s hand pulled down the sheet that covered her black face. She turned to face Henry and tried to smile. Her bruised lips turned the smile into a grimace. She gently raised her hand to her face and touched her mouth. The pain caused her to groan again.

  ‘I said up!’

  Henry pushed the young woman’s body away from him, until she teetered on the edge of the bed. Another strong shove tossed her over the edge. The room vibrated as her body hit the floor.

  ‘Mass’er, why you do dat?’ she cried in a pitiful voice.

  ‘Get out! Give me some peace.’

  She slowly rose from the floor but didn’t make any effort to cover her nakedness. After last night, a sense of modesty would be laughable.

  Henry studied the girl and remembered the pleasure he experienced with her. She was good and accepted his blows as part of lovemaking. Any other woman would have taken a knife to him. He felt aroused as he watched her collect her clothes. Perhaps one more session to start the day would put him in a better mood. It would be better than coffee and a brandy.

  Hot ash fell from his cigar on to his chest. He jumped in pain and dropped the cigar amongst the bedclothes. He rolled off the bed and pulled the sheets back.

  ‘Get out, this is your fault!’ he yelled.

  The girl drew her dress over her head and wriggled her feet into her shoes. Smoothing her dress over her hips made her feel a woman again.

  ‘You promised me a presen’, Mass’er, if I did what you tol’ me. I did what you tol’ me las’ night and you hurt me.’

  ‘I’ll hurt you a damn sight more if you don’t get out of here,’ said Henry with a low menace in his voice. He found the remains of the cigar smoldering in the bed.

  The girl watched the black-haired Englishman and made the sign of the curse behind his back. She realised that she would not receive a present, or money, for last night’s efforts. Her hand gently touched her face to test the swelling of her lips. Some men were gentle, but others tried to kill her.

  ‘You promised,’ she said. A large tear rolled down her face. Without payment she knew she would be hurt again when she got home, however small the amount might have been.

  Henry drew on the ember to keep it lit and glanced at the girl again. He picked up his discarded clothes and found some money. He threw the coins to the girl, but they fell short and bounced on the floor. She quickly dropped to her knees to gather the scattered coins. She had to stretch for the last few that had rolled under the bed.

  He watched her dress ride up to show the back of her legs and ankles. He could see her dirty feet were calloused. He stubbed the end of the cigar out on the table as the girl stood clutching the few coins she had collected. She backed away from him towards the door.

  ‘Go!’ he yelled.

  With a draped shawl around her neck she pulled open the door and ran into the cold street.

  Henry checked his pocket-watch and realised there was enough time for breakfast before his arranged meeting with agent Leather.

  Agent Leather asked, ‘I trust she was satisfactory, Mr Nicholson?’

  ‘Aye, just,’
snarled Henry.

  ‘Good,’ replied Leather, relieved that Henry was a lot calmer this morning.

  ‘Have you found out anything about King?’ muttered Henry.

  ‘He is to sail in ballast for Jamaica, Mr Nicholson.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Soon. In the next few days I understand.’

  ‘Have you found me a cargo?’

  ‘I was not sure if you wanted a cargo for Jamaica, or for England.’

  ‘May the Saints preserve me from idiots. I want a cargo to make a profit. But, I want to keep in touch with King. Do I have to spell everything out or are you just stupid?’

  ‘I … I …’

  ‘Don’t stutter man. Tell me what I need to know!’

  ‘I have sourced a cargo to England, which is cod from Newfoundland, but you will have to sail in ballast to Halifax to load.’

  ‘Is King sailing to Newfoundland?’ asked Henry, his voice cold and angry.

  ‘No, Sir, to Jamaica.’

  ‘Then why, pray, do you wish me to sail to Newfoundland?’

  ‘I thought profit was your main desire.’

  ‘It is, but there are other ways to profit than just by making money. So, let me be very clear on what I want. Wherever King is heading, that is my destination. I want a cargo to carry to that destination.’

  ‘I will have some information for you tomorrow about the movement of King and about a cargo for your ship.’

  ‘Thank you. You may leave now and start your work.’

  ‘Yes, Sir,’ the agent gathered his few papers and nearly ran from the room.

  Henry Nicholson smiled as he heard the steps of the agent quickly receding. Fear added speed to any man’s steps.

  ***

  After a bout of drinking in one of the local taverns, Henry spent the night on his own. He needed rest and another night with the woman would tire him. He liked to think that denying himself a woman was an act of decency on his part. He admitted it did not happen often but when it did, he felt better the next day.

  He woke before dawn, dressed, and broke his fast before the agent called.

  ‘Coffee?’ asked Henry, his back towards Leather.

  The agent glanced at Henry and tried to work out why he was being offered coffee. He knew Henry had not taken the woman again last night. She had left town to heal her face. She was no use to her family with swollen lips and a bruised face. The pickings along the docks were small at the best of times. A broken face was a guarantee that she would not earn any money for a few weeks.

  ‘Thank you, Sir, black please.’

  Henry poured the coffee and pushed the cup towards the agent. He waited while the agent sipped the hot liquid.

  Leather watched Henry over the rim of the cup and realised the silence meant Henry was waiting for a report.

  The agent hurriedly placed the cup on the table.

  ‘I have spoken to all my contacts around Boston town, and the only cargo we can produce is shingle ballast to allow you to collect a cargo out of Jamaica.’

  ‘I heard the Albatross is loading cargo for Jamaica. If this is correct then I think I have the wrong agent working for my father’s company.’

  Henry’s voice was very quiet, just above a whisper, which caused the agent to lean forward. Leather didn’t wish to antagonise Henry by asking him to repeat himself. As he leaned further across the table Henry’s right hand shot out and grabbed the luckless man by the neckerchief.

  ‘Do you take me for a fool?’ snarled Henry.

  ‘Sir, Sir, please you are choking me!’ gasped the agent as he clawed at his throat in an effort to release the pressure. He knocked the hot coffee over, which ran across the table and soaked into his pants, burning his leg. He yelped and jerked from the pain, which broke Henry’s grip on his throat. Leather stood and pulled the material of his pants from his legs in an effort to cool the burning sensation.

  Henry stood away from the table, avoiding the spreading hot coffee.

  Leather pulled the neck-cloth clear of his throat, breathed deeply, and tried to calm himself. He knew Henry did not suffer fools gladly, but he needed to retain the Nicholson agency.

  His voice was a whisper as he coughed a number of times to clear his throat and muttered, ‘Sir, you should have let me speak. I am aware of the cargo being loaded by the Albatross.’

  ‘Speak up man, I cannot hear you!’

  ‘The Albatross is not loading a normal cargo.’

  ‘I don’t care what she is loading, but I do care that she has a cargo and I don’t!’

  ‘Sir, please allow me to finish,’ croaked the agent, ‘the cargo is ice! Sir.’

  ‘Ice? What do you mean ice?’

  ‘Frozen water, Sir, she is loading ice instead of shingle ballast.’

  ‘Have you lost your mind, man? Nobody loads ice for ballast. That is the most stupid excuse I have ever heard. You are covering up for your own incompetence. To think you would have me believe such a tale.’

  ‘It is true, Sir, it is true!’

  The force of the speech from the frightened agent made Henry stop. ‘Sit down, and calm down. Did the coffee cause much damage? Have another.’

  ‘Thank you, no, Sir. I have had sufficient coffee for one day.’

  ‘Have a brandy, you appear upset.’ Henry poured a generous measure of brandy and handed the glass to the agent, who now sat at the table trying to dry the legs of his pants with a silk handkerchief. Leather accepted the glass and drank deeply, savouring the liquid as it slid down his throat.

  ‘They have cut the ice from fresh water lakes further inland and have secured a great deal of sawdust for insulation. They have done this to save money. The Albatross’s captain does not wish to spend money on shingle and then pay someone in Jamaica to unload the ballast.’

  ‘The man is a fool,’ said Henry, ‘whoever heard of anyone shipping ice to Jamaica? It will melt before he reaches the Caribbean, never mind Jamaica.’

  ‘Exactly my thoughts, Sir, which is why I did not wish to suggest you carry ice instead of gravel.’

  ‘What cargo do you have for me?’

  ‘I am sorry, Captain, but I tried to tell you. I have tried all of my contacts and I can’t obtain a cargo to Jamaica. I can have salt fish for England, but you will have to sail to Newfoundland to load.’

  Henry sat in silence. If King carried ice, then he must be a fool. On the other hand his foolishness could be an opportunity. If Henry sailed a day behind King and the ice melted before King reached Jamaica, the Albatross would become unstable. King would have to pump the melted ice overboard.

  The Liverpool Lass would then arrive with the solution to King’s problem. Henry would sell King some of the Liverpool Lass’s ballast, at a small profit, of course. To do this Henry would have to take additional ballast to make sure he didn’t suffer the same fate of instability.

  Henry felt a cold sweat as he thought of what his father would say if he allowed the Liverpool Lass to be compromised because he sold too much ballast. He would have to be careful. He wanted to destroy King, but not at the expense of his own vessel.

  ‘Buy me enough shingle for a safe trip to Jamaica. Then buy enough to sell to the Albatross at sea, after her ice has melted!’

  Agent Leather’s mouth hung open as he contemplated what he had just heard.

  To make sure his agent understood Henry said, ‘The Albatross will be unstable after the ice melts and her captain will pay any price for ballast to keep her from rolling over and sinking.’

  The agent drained the last of the brandy and placed the glass on the coffee-stained table. ‘I will leave you now, Captain, to arrange the ballast and the new cargo. A brilliant plan if I may say so.’

  ‘You may. How soon do you think it will be before we are ready to sail?’

  ‘Give me three days, Captain, and you will be ready to sail.’

  ‘When is the Albatross due to sail?’

  ‘The day after tomorrow, if they are able to keep cutting ice.’ />
  ‘King’s agent is a Jew, is he not?’

  ‘Yes, Sir, I do believe he is a Jew. He lives with his daughter.’

  ‘Good looking woman?’

  ‘If I may say so, Captain, she is a beautiful woman, but not one I would like to cross.’

  ‘So little likelihood of you paying court?’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t mean that I should court her, I meant in business. She is very astute and works with her father. He wanted a son to help in the business but his wife gave him a daughter. Miss Ruth decided she would learn the business and often attends meetings and negotiations with her father.’

  ‘Does she really?’

  ‘It would be more seemly if she married, like all good girls of her age.’

  ‘Not married?’

  ‘No, Captain, I have heard it said that the local young men are not strong enough for her. She waits for the right man.’

  Henry smiled and thought of what he could do for such a woman and what she could do for him. It was a long time since he had enjoyed a white woman. Ruth Judson was a rich, educated woman. He would soon show her that she would not require fancy education in bed. He would teach her all she needed to know.

  ‘How can I meet this lady?’

  ‘Perhaps I could introduce you to her and you could pretend to buy the ballast from her father’s company?’

  ‘Capital idea, but I don’t want to delay the loading of the Liverpool Lass. I just wish to meet the lady and if you have to use the gravel ballast to generate the reason, so be it.’

  The following afternoon, Leather and Henry waited in the outer area of Abraham Judson’s office. They made themselves known to one of the clerks.

  They waited and watched the clerks scribbling away at various documents.

  Henry paced the small reception area. He was not used to being kept waiting. In Liverpool all offices were open to him and his family. He would not have been kept waiting in a Liverpool Jew’s office. The ticking of the wall clock exaggerated the time they had already waited.

  After three more minutes he would walk out. Damn them and their ice. He would finish William King some other way.

  The clock struck the hour. Henry picked up his hat but, while placing it on his head, heard the office door open and a clerk approach.