The back-breaking days of picking, drying, and storing were behind him. This year Virginia had produced one of the best wheat crops in living memory, although it fell short of the West’s massive crops. He also carried the largest amount of cotton in Stone Plantation’s history. The good Lord had been kind to him, and the ship was bulging at the seams with highly profitable commodities.
Jacob and his older brother, Hendry, owned the plantation, the ship Christina, and her sister ship, the Carrabelle, in equal part. Hendry was a sea captain; however, Jacob preferred to leave the running of the ship he travelled on to Jack Travis, who had served his father well for many years and who continued to serve Stone Plantation with fierce loyalty.
Jacob had spent this particular voyage in deep contemplation, worrying not about business but about his personal life – his pending marriage in particular. He’d spent the past weeks reading, sitting by the rails, and staring at the vast ocean, so deep in thought that the surf, the odd whale, dolphins, and biting winds went mostly unnoticed. He was not a particularly good sailor. In rough seas, he often sought refuge in his cabin with a good book or curled up in a ball in an attempt to hold seasickness at bay. On calm nights, he entertained Jack and senior crew members. They ate, talked politics, drank wine and brandies, and smoked cigars.
Jacob was twenty-four years old. He was mature for his age yet owned a playful smile, dark brown twinkling eyes, and black-as-coal curly hair that always looked unruly, no matter what he did with it. He was a tall man, well over six feet, with an athletic build and striking good looks, which had endeared him to just about every Southern belle in the county.
He possessed a keen business mind. He had invested well both in the purchase of slaves and of neighbouring lands. He did not cheat his neighbours; he simply knew when the time was right to strike a deal that suited all parties.
Many of Jacob’s neighbours still ran their plantations in the same way their grandfathers had. They resisted change, using a large force of slaves to pick their crops instead of investing money in new technologically advanced machinery that cut down on manual labour, yielded much bigger profits, and saved money on slave purchases and upkeep.
These Virginians had poured scorn on Jacob’s investments and were now regretting their actions and seeing shrinking profits. They’d seen no need for Jacob’s acquisition of strange-looking machines or the purchase of another ship, which was a rare and bold move in the eyes of many and one that left them envious. Jacob was not only a Virginian agricultural exporter but also a major importer in commodities from Spain, France, England, and North Africa.
When Jacob’s ship was not crossing the Atlantic, he moored her in the southern port of Norfolk. Jacob and Hendry’s plantation was situated five miles west of the newly incorporated city of Portsmouth, Virginia, and fifteen miles from Norfolk’s busy centre. It was also within striking distance of the great inland waterways and estuary of Chesapeake Bay with its bustling trading stations, large oyster fishing industry, growing towns, and hub of packet boats and steamships, which ferried travellers from one island to another and all the way to the states of Delaware, Maryland, and Pennsylvania.
Virginia’s vibrant community craved European goods: silk stockings, Parisian fabrics, Spanish olive oil, copper, iron ore, and handmade silk rugs from North Africa, and Jacob and Hendry obliged them.
Jacob and Hendry’s two ships worked in tandem. On this occasion, the Christina had travelled from Norfolk directly to Liverpool, England. The voyage had taken thirty-five days on a trip whose length could vary depending on favourable or unfavourable winds.
It had been a year since Jacob had last seen Hendry. Hendry and his wife, Belle, were due to arrive in Liverpool on the Carrabelle the day after Jacob and the Christina. The Christina would be unloaded, cleaned, and tethered to the docks, ready for Hendry, who would swap ships with Jacob, taking the Christina back to Europe and North Africa whilst Jacob took the Carrabelle, fully loaded with European goods, back to Virginia.
The two brothers had a close, loving relationship, and they worked well together. The plantation was theirs in equal part. However, Hendry had the love of the sea in his veins and cared nothing for planting. Being captain of a vessel had been his only ambition in life.
Jacob wondered and hoped at the same time that he too would find the burning passion that Hendry shared with his wife, Belle. She had given up a grand plantation life to accompany her husband to sea. She had gone against her parents’ wishes and had been undaunted by Portsmouth society’s harsh opinions of her – but not once had she regretted her decision to abide the austere conditions on a cargo ship.
Jacob craved some measure of passion for his own fiancée, Elizabeth Coulter, the daughter of a neighbouring plantation owner. He did not love Elizabeth, not in the way Hendry loved Belle. He liked her well enough, but she was, in his mind, more like the younger sister he’d never had. He and Elizabeth had grown up together. They had attended the same balls, picnics, weddings, and afternoon teas in town with each other’s families, but he had no great desire to marry her or to bed her.
He often wished he had not made an offer for Elizabeth. She was comely enough, he’d often thought, with fair hair, blue eyes, and a cream-coloured complexion that had rarely been exposed to the sun. She entertained well in song and piano repertoires and had a forceful character that demanded attention, but his feelings towards her continued to be dull and lifeless, with only duty spurring him on towards marriage.
His father had wanted this union, as did her father. Stone Plantation needed a well-bred mistress to see to its everyday running, one who could organise the necessary dinner parties and play the perfect hostess without effort. Elizabeth was bred for this role. But when he thought of nights alone with her, conversing with her, sharing a bed, and making love to her, his resolve weakened.
On his arrival in Liverpool, Jacob alleviated his body’s gentle swaying, caused by the ship’s movements, by taking a brisk walk around the Liverpool harbour and docks.
He stepped off the Christina and walked down the gangplank. He saw his business associates on the jetty and told them he would meet them in an hour. This gave them time to converse with the captain, go over the inventory, and clear customs. It also gave Jacob time to clear his head, reserve two horses and a carriage for the planned evening outing, and purge his weary sea legs.
Jacob found himself in awe every time he set foot in Liverpool. It was an enormous hub for emigrants travelling to every part of the known world: Africa, Australia, New Zealand, the Indies, and his own country, America.
There were thousands of people waiting for ships that would cross oceans to new lives and new worlds. Entire families sat patiently against warehouse walls with their worldly belongings piled high beside them. Some went as far as the jetties and camped out beside the ship that would be their home for weeks on end. Other travellers strolled up and down the busy thoroughfare with impatient children who were thankfully unaware of the arduous journey that stretched ahead of them.
Dockworkers loaded and unloaded cargo, cursing the travellers who blocked doorways and passages. The emigrants were continually harassed. Some were beaten, and others lost everything. They were not allowed on board their ships until the day before or the actual day of sailing. This in turn meant that most emigrants spent between one and ten days in a Liverpool lodging house. Of course, there were those who could not afford such luxuries. Those families set up camp on the dockside or on a street close by, with every possession they owned lying beside them.
As Jacob walked, he silently pitied the poverty and desperation that met his eyes. But he also admired the courage than shone from other eyes filled with hopes and dreams. He remembered well his own father talking about his grandfather, who had been much poorer and more desperate than many of these new pioneers.
His great-grandfather was originally from Manchester. He had also set sail from Liverpool’s port, taking his family across the Atlantic in search of prosperity
. They had withstood severe hardships and conditions that made the journey today luxurious in comparison.
Jacob recalled the tales of his forefathers. The vessels back in the old days, his grandfather had told him, were more like slave ships. There was a 50 per cent or more mortality rate among the passengers. Jacob’s great-grandfather’s baby girl had been buried at sea, thrown overboard in a quick and practical ceremony that seemed to take place on an hourly basis for the families who had pinned all their hopes on a better life.
Walking through the expansive dockyard and onto jetties with his father’s stories still etched in his mind gave Jacob a new perspective. With every step, his admiration and pity for the travellers grew. He greeted strangers and gave farthings and pennies to children, who shrieked with delight and ran off to buy candy from one of the many small stalls in the dockyard. He asked questions about destinations and learned the reasons for such bold adventures from families who had obviously seen nothing but poverty their entire lives.
The travellers looking for a better life did not have it easy in Liverpool, Jacob thought as he wandered through the throng of people. They were forced to pay extortionate rates in one of the many Liverpool boarding houses capitalising on a desperate clientele. They also had to contend with groups of experienced tricksters, well known for their harassment and fraud. Jacob knew all about these bands of thieves, having seen them operate many times. Their most common trick was to offer help to an emigrating family weighed down with children and life’s possessions. They would then run with the family’s baggage into unknown side streets that only a Liverpudlian would know. As far as Jacob was concerned, these runners, as they were called, were the scourge of human decency. Yet every time he arrived in Liverpool, there seemed to be more thieves and tricksters than the time before.
Jacob stopped to watch a ship being boarded. A family of four stood halfway down the line among hundreds of other travellers. He stopped, curious as always, and asked the man whom he presumed to be the patriarch where they were going.
“Australia, sir,” the man answered with pride. “I’m going to give my children what I never had, full bellies and a better life.”
Jacob also found out that the journey to their destination, which was Adelaide, would take just under twelve weeks. He was aware that Australia was particularly popular at the moment due to the promise of gold. The Australian gold rush was being well documented, even in his own country, which was also one of the most sought-after destinations from Liverpool.
He chatted for some minutes with the mild-mannered man and then subtly put his hand in his pocket. He shook the man’s hand and gave him three gold sovereigns. The bewildered man took the coins and gasped in disbelief. Jacob tipped his hat, wished the family well, and left.
Liverpool had grown as a hub since Jacob’s childhood. He had first visited with his father when he was twelve years old. It was now well placed to receive emigrants from all over Europe: from the north-western Scandinavians to the Russians and Poles, who had crossed the North Sea on steamships landing in Hull.
Jacob thought again about the family he’d just left. He had grown up surrounded by wealth, but most emigrants here travelled in the cheapest accommodation on board, known as steerage. This was similar to a dormitory, with bunks down the sides and tables in the centre. It was frequently overcrowded and had poor ventilation. Seasickness was a problem on the stormy North Atlantic westbound voyages. Diseases such as cholera and typhus frequently reached epidemic proportions as infection spread through the confined decks. As he looked at the hopeful faces wishing for their new lives to begin, he wondered if they knew of the scores of emigrants who had died on board the ships without ever seeing their destinations.
Jacob had found his legs, steady and sure now as he walked back to where the Christina was docked. He invited his lawyer and accountant to lunch and, during three courses, conducted business. He had walked enough and had seen enough of others. It was now time to put his affairs in order. These casual discussions with his lawyer and accountant included financial matters, insurance issues, England’s taxes, docking rights, and the ever more expensive costs of doing business in Liverpool.
Chapter Seventeen
Lunch in the small discreet restaurant had been going on for over two hours. Eddie was tired of Maud and Lizzie’s company and their insipid conversation. He couldn’t blame the women, for they had not been outside du Pont’s mansion or grounds in over a decade. He supposed he’d be a boring git too if he were in their positions. In fact, if he’d been stuck there for that long, he’d be off his head by now, never mind stuck for something interesting to say.
Every now and then Eddie watched the wall clock’s second hand ticking slowly around the clock face. Madame du Pont had ordered Sam and him to give the girls a great time, ply them with wine, and compliment them every five minutes. Eddie now believed he’d done that in spades and lunch had gone on long enough.
He looked across the table at Sam and gave him the nod. “Get the bill, Sam. We need to get these two lovely women home. They need their beauty sleep before tonight.”
Eddie walked the two women out of the restaurant. Maud was slurring her words, and Lizzie’s ridiculous giggling fits were giving him a headache. They’d done their duty, he and Sam, he thought. He wanted a kip and couldn’t wait to get the drunken giggling whores back to du Pont’s mansion.
In the carriage, Eddie closed his ears to the women and instead occupied himself with thoughts which had nothing to do with the present company.
Sam continued to play the gentleman, listening, nodding, and answering when it was required of him to do so. Maud was striking to look at, Sam thought, studying her beaming smile. Both women were du Pont’s favourites. He supposed it was only right that she should favour them – after all, they’d been with her since they were young girls, and they had grown into womanhood under her tutorage. He leaned into Maud, caressed her breasts, and kissed her hard on the lips.
He looked across at Lizzie, sitting next to Eddie. She wasn’t bad-looking either, but she didn’t have Maud’s beauty or class, he decided. Lizzie kept giggling. The fit was interrupted at intervals by hiccups and snorts coming from her nose. They were quite endearing, Sam admitted to himself.
Maud laid her hand on his arm and asked, “Sam, do you think we could do this again? I’ve never had such a wonderful time. It’s been such a perfect day. I didn’t realise Liverpool was so modern and so large. Maybe next time we could visit a museum or look at some art? Do you think we could?”
“I don’t know, Maud, but I don’t see why not,” Sam pacified her.
Lizzie said, “I’m going to remember this afternoon until the day I die. The outside world is so exciting. I do hope Madame du Pont will keep her word and allow us to retire soon. She did say that we were coming to the end and that we’d be rewarded for our service.”
“Well, you’ve had a nice reward today, haven’t you, girls?” Sam said.
Lizzie giggled. “It was perfectly wonderful.”
Maud said more seriously, “I’m going to thank Madame du Pont very much, and I’m going to work hard for her tonight. I can’t bear the thought of not pleasing her.”
The carriage finally arrived at the gates and came to a halt. The carriage driver jumped down to open the gates. He then led the horses and carriage inside and locked the gates behind him before taking the reins to continue up the long driveway.
Maud was singing to herself. Lizzie was looking out of the window.
Eddie and Sam closed both sets of window curtains and shared unspoken words with slight nods of their heads.
Lizzie slurred, “Why have you closed the curtains, Eddie?”
“It’s time to sleep,” Eddie told her.
“Don’t be silly.” Lizzie giggled again. “We’re almost home. Open the curtains – please, Eddie?”
Eddie smiled at her and turned to Sam. “Are you ready, Sammy boy?”
“Ready when you are,” Sam replied.<
br />
The two men pounced at the exact same time, grabbing the women by their throats in iron grips.
Maud and Lizzie were pushed onto their backs on the velvet seats. Eddie and Sam tightened their grips further and straddled them as though they’d done this a hundred times before.
The women struggled, terror replacing their tipsy, happy mood. They tried to scream but could only manage to open their mouths.
Eddie pressed his thumbs deeper into Lizzie’s throat. “You’re not giggling now, are you, you silly cow?” he said to her, panting with exertion.
Lizzie looked up at him with sorrow etched on her twisted face. Her windpipe was blocked. Her throat was closed. Her hands struggled to slacken Eddie’s grip. Her legs kicked out, twisting on the velvet seat. But these were futile attempts to escape the vice-like clamp around her neck.
Eddie took hold of the back of Lizzie’s head with one hand whilst the other remained at her throat. Lizzie’s eyes were rolling upwards, looking at him once more with questions. Eddie smiled at her before snapping her neck with one swift movement. He took a long, deep breath and focused on Sam.
Eddie was mesmerised. Sam’s face was crinkled up, eyes tightly closed, and head straight forward. He snapped Maud’s neck, opened his eyes, and pushed her dead body off the seat. He opened the curtains and stared out the window with his thoughts.
Eddie looked again at Lizzie and flicked her off the seat as though she were a bothersome cat. He punched the carriage ceiling three times to signal the driver and then looked again at Sam. “Aw c’mon, don’t look so bloody miserable. It’s not as if it’s the first time, for Christ’s sake.”
“I liked Maud,” Sam said, looking at her on the floor. “She was nice.”
The carriage took a turn, carried on, and came to a standstill a few minutes later.
Two graves had already been dug that morning deep inside the small woods at the back of the mansion.