William glanced at Abraham and smiled. A larger smile lit his face as he realised his future father-in-law agreed with him marrying Ruth.
‘A little bit of advice to you, William. Ruth Judson is a very strong-willed woman. It will take a real man to control her, so you must start as you mean to carry on. What happens if you cannot get control of the Albatross?’
‘I have an agreement with my associates that I can buy out their shares. If, for any reason, I fail to keep the Albatross, I will find a ship and return. I can’t marry if I do not have a ship. It would not be fair on Ruth to ask her to marry someone without prospects.’
‘If you fail to get the Albatross, then I will be happy to offer you a position in Boston.’
‘Very generous of you, Sir, but I will return with a ship, even if it isn’t the Albatross.’
The door opened and Ruth re-joined them. ‘The drinks will be here in a minute or two. I couldn’t find Elijah.’
‘I have a book I wish to lend to William, so you will have to entertain him while I go and find it.’
‘Tell me the name, Father, and I will get it – I am sure you and William have much to talk about.’ She began to rise from her seat.
‘Sit down, child, I am quite capable of finding a book. I couldn’t tell you where it is, as I cannot remember the name, but I will recognise it when I see it. Just entertain William while I am away.’
He laid his hand gently on her shoulder and squeezed a little.
Abraham left the porch to the two young people and made his way to his study. He pulled out his watch to check the time. An hour should be long enough. He smiled to himself as he remembered that it had not taken anywhere near an hour when he asked Ruth’s mother for her hand all those years ago. However, people were different these days.
‘It’s a beautiful sunset this evening,’ said Ruth, and she stared over the fields to the clouds flecked with the red of the setting sun.
William watched the sun’s remaining rays dance on the low clouds. ‘Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘That it will be a fine day tomorrow and hopefully a calm sea when we sail.’
‘When you sail,’ repeated Ruth. She blinked tears from her eyes. ‘How I hate those words. They carry all my happiness away.’
William left his chair and sat next to Ruth on the cane seat, which was large enough for the two of them. He held her hand and gently stroked the back. ‘I’ll be back as fast as I can.’
‘Oh, William, do you have to go?’
‘I am afraid I do, for a number of reasons.’
‘You have a lady friend in Liverpool?’
‘No, no lady friends anywhere except here.’
Ruth turned her face to him. ‘Here?’
‘Yes, here, at Mamre, Oh, Ruth, you must know how I feel about you?’
‘Do I?’
He let his fingers slowly move up her bare arm and gently caressed her skin. His other hand held her two hands in her lap.
‘Ruth. Ruth, I have something to say …’
‘Yes?’ whispered Ruth, her voice failing her.
William gazed into her eyes, at her mouth and her black hair falling around her ears. He could see the small sparkle of her earring as it caught the last of the evening light.
‘You are beautiful,’ William blurted out.
She blushed and her breathing quickened.
‘Ruth, will you …?’
‘Will I what, William?’
‘Will you wait for me while I am in England. I’ll return as quickly as I can, you know I will, don’t you?’
‘I think so.’
‘Will you wait?’
‘Oh, yes, William, I will wait,’ she whispered. ‘Of course I will wait. I have waited for you since the day I was born.’ Her fingers curled around his as she willed him to ask the right question.
‘Would you do me the great honour of marrying me on my return?’
The world seemed to slow down for William as he realised he had uttered the words he had been thinking for so long. He was in uncharted waters. Had he been too quick? Perhaps he should have waited until he returned from his next trip. Also, she might not marry him because he was a Christian. Such a beautiful woman must have had a number of marriage offers from far wealthier men.
‘My answer is yes, William, to both questions.’
‘To both questions?’
Hearing William’s unexpected response, it was Ruth’s turn to have doubts. Perhaps he didn’t mean to ask her. Perhaps she answered too quickly, and perhaps she should have left him dangling until after his return from his next trip. If he withdrew the questions he would be ashamed and she would be embarrassed. ‘I said yes, William. Is that what you wanted to hear?’
‘You will marry me?’
‘Yes, William, shall I say it again?’
‘Yes, please, say it again,’ said William.
‘I will marry you, William, and I will wait for you. Is that what you wanted to hear?’
‘Yes,’ he whispered, and leaned over to gently kiss Ruth’s slightly opened mouth.
She felt his lips on hers and she responded. She could taste the brandy, a slight smoky taste, then realised it would be the cigar he had smoked.
They drew apart and each looked lovingly at the other, as if for the first time. Ruth freed her hand from William’s and ran her index finger down the scar on his face, trying to memorise it for the future.
Her hand, soft and delicate, touched his face so lightly that he was not sure if she had actually touched him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Havana Fire
Savannah ~ Cuba
William was frustrated that he had been unable to carry through with his plans to develop the ice trade. The ice had melted at the end of winter and the icehouses had not been completed in time to store commercial quantities. He’d sent plans to his partner, Paris, to construct two icehouses in Kingston. One was to store fruit for export, and the other to accept fresh ice from Boston. The icehouses had to be large enough to hold enough quantities to extend the ice season to early summer.
He consoled himself that trading from Boston along the American coast made profits, and each return to Boston allowed him more time with Ruth.
It was early June when the Albatross sailed from Boston for Savannah, Georgia. With a cargo of timber the morning after William had asked Ruth to marry him. Savannah had suffered another fire, not as bad as that of 1796, but it had destroyed a number of buildings. The local sawmills could not cope with the demand for timber to rebuild and so supplies were ordered from all over the country.
After unloading the timber, William found it difficult to obtain a return cargo for Boston. He realised, reluctantly, that he would have to sail to the Caribbean to find a cargo for the return voyage. After studying his charts he decided that as Cuba was closer than Jamaica, he would accept a cargo of cotton for Havana and risk the consequences of him being an Englishman in a Spanish possession.
He thought the voyage would give him an opportunity to try out the new paperwork that proved he captained an American ship. Trading to Havana would save weeks of sailing to Jamaica. If all went well, he should be able to collect a cargo of hides for the return to Boston.
Another consideration on his mind was his crew. They had been away from Liverpool for nearly a year now and were eager to return home. They had been told when they signed on that the voyage would be six to nine months. Two voyages to the Caribbean and a number of small voyages along the American eastern seaboard had meant a longer time. William would make this voyage to Havana his final voyage before returning to England.
Havana
A dark smudge of land slowly rose from the sea as the Albatross drew closer to Cuba. It eventually hardened into soft green hills giving an impression of peace and tranquility. William focused his telescope on a dark area at the base of one of the hills. Houses jumped into view. It was Havana.
William wa
s aware of Cuba’s turbulent history. The island had been attacked and captured by pirates, the Spanish, and then by the English. In its latest change of ownership, it had been transferred from England to Spain in exchange for Spanish Florida in the Americas. William saw two white-sail vessels emerging from the narrow entrance of the harbour and spreading canvas to pick up the fresh ocean winds.
The Albatross, flying the American flag, drew closer to the entrance to Havana harbour.
‘Stand by the halyard, Mr Mate.’
William focused his telescope once again, moving the glass slowly to the left of two forts dominating the harbour entrance. He noted the Spanish flag, on Morro Fort on the eastern bank of the harbour entrance, moving gently in the morning breeze.
He felt tense as the Albatross entered the gap between the two forts. He wanted to wipe the palms of his hands to rid himself of sweat. He knew he must not show anxiety in front of the crew. The Albatross could be fired upon any moment – if those inside the forts did not believe she was an American vessel.
‘Dip!’ he called out as the Albatross came abreast of the Spanish flag. The flag of America slowly lowered to half-mast. The soldiers of the fort answered the salute as they lowered their flag a similar distance. A few seconds later the Spanish flag rose to the top of the mast.
‘Haul!’ called William, feeling enormous relief. Courtesy had been completed and his ship hadn’t been fired upon.
The speed of the Albatross dropped as she passed Morro Fort headland. The ship tacked back and forth across the ever-widening harbour in an effort to use every breath of wind. The last puff was enough to push his ship to within a couple of hundred yards of the wharf.
‘Prepare to anchor. We will wait for the authorities to come to us.’
It was early afternoon on a hot humid day before the Albatross received permission to move alongside. The speed of the Spanish authorities’ decision-making was no faster in Cuba than in Spain.
The attitude of the official brought back memories of William’s time in Spain. The Spanish took an eternity to come to the point. If he interrupted the official by discussing the voyage from America, the weather or the war in Europe, he would just prolong the agony. William sat quiet, sipping rum and limejuice and trying to smile at the appropriate moment.
At last he was allowed to weigh anchor and move towards the yellow and blue stucco houses of Havana. Once alongside, William left the Albatross under the control of James Austin and made his way to the warehouses. There he would find a shipping agent for his cotton cargo. He would also, he hoped obtain good rates to carry hides, and perhaps dried meat, back to Boston.
It didn’t take him long to find the agent for the cotton. All he needed now was a return cargo (as long as it wasn’t sugar). The Savannah agent gave him names of several companies that specialised in hides. William decided to visit each of them.
Rows of two- and three-storey buildings dominated the cobbled streets. They cast cooling shade over the walkways and each time William stepped down from the carriage he tried to stay in the cool shadows.
As the afternoon progressed, small white clouds gathered above the surrounding hills. Eventually they became storm clouds and drenched the town in tepid rain. Within a few minutes the rain stopped and was followed by a hot, drying sun. The cooling of the air by the rain was short-lived. The sun quickly dried the damp streets and added the vaporised rain to the humidity, and to William’s discomfort.
When visiting each of the offices William communicated in English and broken Spanish. It had been some years since he had called at a Spanish port. At each office he went through the same pleasantries required under Spanish business practice. To complement the pleasantries, he accepted lime juice laced with rum, which he realised was beginning to affect him even though he sipped as little as possible. A refusal to accept the drink would cause offence. Each time he left an office, the sun felt stronger and he felt weaker. By evening he ached with tiredness, though he was pleased he had only one more company to visit. It was disappointing that no one seemed able to offer him a full load – but by accepting a few bales of hides from each, along with sacks of dried meat, he had been able to accumulate enough freight for the voyage to Boston.
His last stop was 107 Muralla Street, across the road from the bustling market of the Plaza Nueva. The mixture of the rum, heat and the noise from the market square made him feel ill. Still, he marveled at the beauty of 107 Muralla Street. A covered gallery protected the windows from the heat of the day and the noise of the market. From his carriage, he walked slowly into the shade of the gallery leading to the main door. Inside the gloomy interior, he found the office pleasantly cool.
‘Senor, may I help you?’ said a small man from behind a desk.
William replied that he had a small amount of space left on the Albatross for hides or dried meat for his return voyage to Boston. When he mentioned Boston, a Negro sitting at another desk glanced up from his work and met William’s gaze. He felt he knew the Negro but couldn’t think where he had seen him before. Perhaps he resembled one of the many he had seen during the afternoon. Havana was full of Africans.
‘Perhaps we can help you, Senor, would you please follow me?’
William followed the man to the rear of the building and up a flight of stairs. As they reached the last door of a row of offices, the Spaniard tapped lightly and called out. The only part William recognised was his name and the word Boston.
‘Entrar,’ called a voice.
William was greeted by a clean-shaven, well-built man who appeared to be in his early forties, standing behind a desk covered in a mass of papers. He was unlike many of the local Spaniards that William had spoken to that day. His face was deeply tanned. He peered from behind heavy eyelids that hardly moved. William had the impression that the man had spent his life staring across a vast glittering ocean that reflected the glare of the sun back into his face. The shuttered eyes gave his face a cruel appearance, as did his thin lips. The man gently placed a quill on a rest near a small pot of ink.
‘Senor, how may I help you?’ said the man as he offered his hand.
William repeated what he had said downstairs.
‘You are American, Senor? You sound English,’
‘I was born in England but now have business interests in Boston.’
The man shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t care. ‘Please be seated. I am Amancio Cardenas.’
‘My pleasure to meet you, Senor Cardenas.’
‘We may be able to help you, Captain. It is odd, but in the past few weeks I have received two American captains looking for cargo.’
‘I am sure you must sell to many American ships, Senor, why do you find this odd?’
‘Some weeks ago another captain came to see me, and he sounded like you. How do you say it in English? His accent sounded similar to yours. Perhaps he also was born in England and has business interests in Boston.’
William felt the hair on his neck rise while he listened to Cardenas. He kept his face neutral. ‘There must be many Englishmen who have now settled in Boston.’
‘That is true, that is true, but I have a fine ear for dialects and accents and it has seldom failed me in the past. I also was a sailor. I sailed in ships bringing slaves from Africa to Cuba. I have also visited your country and your great city of Liverpool. Of course this was before the latest little trouble between Spain and England.’ He sighed as if there would never be an end to the war. ‘Napoleon will ruin good businesses,’ said the Spaniard, making a spitting noise when he said Napoleon. ‘I have left the sea and changed to trading.’ He waved his arm to illustrate that all around was his.
‘You trade in many things, Senor?’ asked William.
‘If there is a profit, then I will trade.’
‘Perhaps I may know this other captain,’ ventured William, in an effort to appear polite.
‘His name Nix-son.’
William felt himself go cold as he realised the Spaniard had tried to say �
��Nicholson’. His face did not show any emotion but his mind was in turmoil as he tried to make sense of why Henry would visit Havana.
‘I am afraid the name means nothing to me, Senor. Perhaps we could discuss terms for a cargo. I wish for a fast turnaround. We are currently discharging the cargo we brought from America.’
‘Cotton, I believe, Captain, from Savannah?’
‘You are well informed, Senor.’
‘Information is profit, Captain. Now let us to business, as I can offer you both hides and dried meat.’
‘I also wish to hire extra labour,’ said William.
Heavy with tiredness, William returned to the Albatross. Why had Henry Nicholson called at Cuba? He felt certain he was out to damage him. A damaged reputation would make gaining the Albatross a much harder task. The unloading of the Albatross had stopped for the night. He flopped into his chair and opened his shirt to let a little cool air circulate around his body. He closed his eyes and sat thinking.
William sensed, rather than heard, Teng Sang as he moved about the cabin, picking up the clothes William had dropped.
‘Sang?’
‘Yes, Cap’n’
‘Ask Mr Austin to join me’
‘Aye, aye, Sorr.’
A few minutes later the first mate knocked on the door.
‘Come in, James, come in and sit down.’
James knew his captain was worried. He seldom called him by his first name.
‘How can I help, Sir?’
William explained about visiting the agents. He went into more detail when he reached the final agent, Amancio Cardenas.
‘I have a feeling that all is not as it may seem with Senor Cardenas.’
‘How so, Captain?’
‘I am not sure and I do not know why I feel so uneasy, but I thought I recognised one of his Negro clerks this afternoon. When I left Cardenas’ building, I searched for the man, but I didn’t see any black that I recognised. I must have been mistaken. I have never visited Cuba before and perhaps, like Chinese, blacks all look the same to us. It is just a feeling I cannot shake.’
Triangle Trade Page 24
