He did so. She noticed that every time he rattled his chain, the anchored wall shaft moved slightly, which in turn made the dust fall.
A thought entered her head. She turned to the wall behind her and felt its texture with her palms. She scraped her fingernails along the grouting between the stones. It was soft, yes – just like sand. Every time she shook the iron shaft, sand dust fell. If she could wiggle the shaft enough, it might just come loose from the wall.
“What’s your name?”
“Nelson – Nelson Stuart from Stuart Plantation. They gone now, the massa and mistress, gone to live in the city. Sold me at auction to Mr Eddie and the devil woman,” he said even more miserably.
“Nelson, I’m Mercy, Mercy Carver. I’m going to try to loosen the shaft like the one high above you. Can you try too?”
“I gone did try, Miss Mercy, but I can’t reach it. I’m as strong as an ox, but I can’t stand on my feet to get at it, on account of being in irons.”
Mercy nodded in the darkness. “Nelson, how often does Eddie come down here?” she asked.
“I ain’t got no way of knowin’. I ain’t got no way of telling how long I been here, but he ain’t come with no food or water, and I knows it’s been day and night twice now. I’m mighty thirsty. I don’t reckon I’ll see mornin’.”
“I’m going to try to free myself, and then I’ll unlock your shackles. Do you know how to pray?”
“I sure do. I pray to the good Lord every day,” he told her proudly.
“All right – then start praying.”
There was hope, Mercy kept repeating in her head. If she could just get the shaft out of the wall before Eddie came back, she would be free.
“Please God, please God, save me,” she whispered in the darkness. “I can do this. That bleedin’ woman is not going to get me again. Please help me. Come on, you bloody stupid wall. Fall down.”
After some time, and now with bleeding palms and fingers, she admitted that the shaft probably wasn’t going to move enough to come all the way out. It was hammered far too deep.
She leaned against the wall, not quite ready to give up but panting for breath. She was exhausted. She would kill for a drop of water. “I’m sorry, Nelson. I don’t think I can do it.”
“You can do it, Miss Mercy. You got to do it or you be dead come mornin’. You can do it. I knows you can.”
Mercy’s silent tears were broken by soft sobs. She had cried more this past year than she had in her entire life. But this was no time to cry. She had to keep trying to loosen the shaft. Did she want to die a horrible death? No! Did she want to see the face of that vile du Pont again? No! She would rather rip her hands to shreds than die here at her hand.
“I’ll try,” she told her faceless companion.
She grunted and panted, twisting and turning the shaft. She pushed it up, pulled it down. It moved slightly from side to side, around and around, until finally, in one circular movement, she felt it loosen. It became easier to move in all directions after that. She giggled. “Come on, you bleedin’ stupid thing. Get out. I can do this. I can do it!”
She pulled at it. The shaft moved out an inch, bringing with it dust that stung her eyes. She pulled again, leaning back and using the weight of her body for leverage. The dust was thicker, and sand was breaking off in lumps. She pulled again, as hard as she could, and suddenly found herself on the other side of the room, sitting on a sore backside.
“Nelson,” she groaned. “Nelson, I did it. I did it! I’m going to find the keys.”
She heard his sigh of relief. “You did it. Lord above, you gone and did it. Hurry, Miss Mercy,” he urged her.
Mercy moved on all fours with difficulty. Her shackles, chain, and padlocked shaft made it hard for her to do much more than shuffle her body in small awkward movements. She did not want to stand. She was blind in the darkness and would probably bump into something and knock herself out. The floor was safer. Finally, her knuckles hit a wall, scraping them. She grimaced. Her hands were bloodied and torn already, but she didn’t care. Again she palmed her way up the wall, using her hands to feel for the hook that held the keys. She pictured Eddie holding the candle and knew that the keys were halfway up the wall and halfway along it. The heavy shackles restricted her movements. She tried to hold her arms up, but the irons fought to bring them down. Her fingertips tapped along, and then she felt the keys. They jingled at her touch.
“Don’t bloody drop them, Mercy,” she whispered. She grasped the keys in her right hand and cried with relief. “Nelson, say something,” she said quite loudly.
“I’s here. Follow my voice. I’s here. That’s it. I hear your chains. They be gettin’ louder.”
Mercy touched a leg and took a sharp breath. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said nervously. She followed his leg with her hands to his ankles and found his shackled feet. Tracing the centre bar, she found the keyhole. Her hands were shaking, cumbersome, and difficult to manoeuvre, but she managed to get the first of the three keys in her fingers and tried pushing it in the hole.
“No, not that one,” she told Nelson. She tried the second. When she slipped it in and turned it to the right, the shackles sprang open.
Mercy then used Nelson’s body as a guide. She pulled herself up by his torso until she stood upright. She lifted her arms high above his head as she got to her feet. She felt the wrist chain and followed it to his hands. She found the shackles and smiled.
This time she found the right key in her first attempt. The shackles once again jumped open, crashing to the ground. The noise was loud, and she began to panic. “Nelson, untie me – quickly,” she begged him.
Nelson found her fingers and took the keys from her. On his third attempt and with the last key, she was freed from her chains.
Chapter Fifty-One
Mercy and Nelson found the rickety wooden stairs and stumbled up them. At times, they missed a step or stubbed their toes on the next step’s underbelly, but eventually they reached the top platform. Nelson felt the door panel and then found the knob. He turned it. It was unlocked.
“Ha! That’s what you get for being a cocky git!” Mercy whispered, thinking of Eddie.
The door creaked open a couple of inches, just enough to allow Nelson to see what was outside. He looked, creasing up his face in the daylight, and then turned to Mercy, who was trembling with fear and excitement.
“Ssh, Miss Mercy. We gotta run for it. I don’t see nobody, but that don’t mean they ain’t there.”
Mercy nodded, staring into Nelson’s face. It was swollen to double its size down one side. One eye was shut and looked like a fat black bubble. His nose and mouth were caked in dried blood. She put her hand up slowly and touched his cheek. He jerked his head back at the intimacy.
“I’m sorry they did that to you, Nelson,” she simply said.
He said nothing and opened the door. Mercy followed him out into the short open passageway with three more steps leading upwards at the end of it. She then saw his back – his ripped shirt and lash welts, broken skin, and flesh hanging. She covered her mouth with her hands to stop from venting her anger and sadness. She was surprised he’d made it up the stairs.
They peered over the grassy bank that bordered the passageway, keeping their bodies low. They were at the side of the house, which meant that they had only a very short run to the thick treeline that sat to the left of them.
“Are you ready to run, Miss Mercy?” Nelson asked.
She nodded in silence.
Nelson’s body crouched down again, ready to take the first steps forward, but Mercy grabbed his arm. He swung his head around.
Mercy stared at him again. Another plan had come to her in the last few seconds, and it didn’t involve running. Her wits were with her, she was determined, and now all she had to do was convince Nelson to stay with her.
“Nelson, I’m not running away on foot. You need to get your back seen to. You won’t last a day and night if we don’t try to stop it from getting infe
cted. And you will be a fugitive. If you get caught, that bloody big cow of a woman and her faithful dog will hang you or whip you to death. I know the buggers!” Mercy’s eyes were flashing with rage. “There are things we need. I want a gun and your ownership papers. I want a horse because I’m too tired to walk – Nelson, we have to do this properly. Madame Du Pont and Eddie are not going to kill anyone else. I swear they’re not.”
“But Miss Mercy—”
“No, Miss Mercy nothing. How many slaves are here?”
“She got three more – Moses and two girls.”
“Will Moses stop us?”
He nodded angrily. “He real happy here. He ain’t never been beaten. She likes him, and he ain’t no friend to me.”
“Well, I don’t care. I’m not leaving without the things I need. Will you help me?”
“It’s too dangerous,” Nelson said sadly.
“Will you help me, though?” Mercy asked him again.
Nelson winced in an attempt to smile. “I reckon I will. Be my pleasure. But I don’t hold out much hope of us gettin’ away.”
They climbed the steps and then skirted the side wall to the corner until they reached the back wall of the house. Mercy looked over to a barn and saw horses outside, tethered by reins to a bar. There were no saddles, and she had never been on a horse’s back, but they were hers to take nonetheless. She was filled with thoughts of vengeance. She clung to the hatred now overwhelming her. It would give her strength and courage.
They came to a window, and she looked through it from the ground up. She saw that the room was unoccupied, and they moved on. She looked through the next window they came to, crawling behind Nelson in a gown she now cursed. It was a bleedin’ nuisance.
The room was a kitchen. Two girls were present. She grabbed Nelson’s leg and put two fingers up, pointing to the kitchen window. He nodded and they moved on.
They came to a door, which Mercy believed to be an outside pantry door. She looked back at Nelson, who confirmed her suspicions with a whisper. “It leads to the kitchen. The girls ain’t gonna stop us if we tell them to hush up. Mr Eddie, he be in the drawing room drinkin’ or eatin’. Moses is always with him, when he’s not upstairs with the mistress.”
Mercy thought for just a moment. This was becoming a stupid idea. She felt so weak, she doubted she could overpower a chicken, never mind two men – unless …
“We need to find a gun first.”
Nelson nodded. “Mr Eddie hangs his gun and belt in the hallway closet. Mrs Mallory don’t allow guns in the drawing room.”
Mercy had questions but decided that now was not the time to ask. They had to act quickly. “We’ll get the gun. We’ll hold them up and get Eddie to give me your papers. We could tie them down with something … No, wait. We could shackle them in that basement …”
“We need to get the gun,” Nelson reminded her. He opened the door, and they sneaked into the kitchen through the inner pantry door.
He silenced the girls with his finger. They nodded submissively, shocked by the sight of his tortured face and even more shocked at Mercy’s appearance.
Outside the kitchen was the dining room. The two slave girls confirmed in whispers that both men were in the drawing room.
A kitchen door led straight to the hallway. Mercy prayed. Her actions were those of a madwoman, but her mind screamed that she had to see this through to the end.
She nodded to Nelson and took the lead, slipping into the hallway. The closet with the gun that Nelson had told her about was not within the drawing room’s line of sight. Mercy slowly and silently turned the doorknob, opened the door, and saw the gun and holster hanging on a hook. There was a rifle there too, and she handed that to Nelson. She reached up and pulled the gun out of the holster. She hadn’t a clue how it worked. She turned it over in her hands. It was heavier than she thought a gun would be.
She had seen her grandfather Carver once cleaning a gun. It had not been the same as this gun. His had been much bigger, with a longer barrel, but it had a similar lever on the top. How hard could it be to hold a bleedin’ gun and make it look menacing? She pulled the little lever back, cocking it but not knowing what her action meant.
Nelson nodded, whispering, “You gone made the gun ready to fire.”
She saw the trigger and a small catch. She didn’t know what the catch was for but slid it back anyhow. The thick round barrel dropped out of position and hung loose. She looked in it. There were six conical shaped balls inside, in separate compartments. She pushed it back into place with a small click and looked at the trigger and the cocking lever again.
“I think it will definitely fire now. There are balls and grease in these compartments. You check that rifle, seeing as you’ve probably seen one before.”
Before they even got to the open door, snoring could be heard coming from the drawing room. Mercy knew that this was the moment to conjure up all her hatred, to hate with all her might. She closed her eyes for a second, remembering everything Eddie had done to her.
“Make sure that rifle doesn’t go off,” she whispered to Nelson.
She poked her head into the drawing room. Eddie and Moses were asleep in armchairs. She gestured to Nelson to follow her.
“Wake up, Eddie, ya lazy git. You too, you big ugly giant!” Mercy was scared, more scared than she’d ever been. She let the anger rise, bringing flashes of the past towards her.
Eddie’s shocked expression and the black giant’s wide frightened eyes left her feeling cold and confident.
“How the fuck did you get out?” Eddie asked, eyes on the guns.
“That doesn’t matter. I want Nelson’s ownership papers. I want your partner to sit on that chair over there while you get them,” Mercy told him.
“Fuck off, Carver. I don’t take orders from a woman, especially a whore.”
“Then I’ll shoot you. I’ll shoot you where you sit, because that’s what I fancy doing. I mean it, Eddie – I will kill you.”
“And you’ll bloody hang for it.”
“Why? No one knows I’m here. Anyway, what if I do? It’ll be worth it just to know you’ll never hurt anyone again. Get the papers. Look in that desk over there. They had better be there or I’ll follow you all over the house till you find them and give them to me. Nelson, find some rope.”
“I ain’t going for no rope, Miss Mercy,” Nelson told her.
“I’ve counted the bullets. There are six. I’ll be fine. Go find rope.”
“Get them papers first,” Nelson told Eddie. He looked at Mercy. “I’ll go get rope when he done give you the papers.”
Mercy nodded. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. You stick that rifle in his face.” She pointed to Moses, now sitting on a chair in front of Nelson.
Eddie laughed. “You’re going to die, Mercy Carver. You’re not getting out of here alive. You dare to hold me at gunpoint; I don’t think so.” Eddie spat out the words without drawing breath. “You’re a stupid girl thinking you can best a man.”
Mercy raised the gun higher, pointing it at his head. “I will best you, ya big lout. Do as I say, and then we’ll see who’s stupid here.”
“All right, all right. Calm down. I’ll give you the bloody papers. Nelson Stuart, belonging to Mrs Margaret Mallory, right? Is that what you’re after?”
Mercy nodded.
“So what’s the problem? No need to tie me or Moses up, is there? We’ll let you go. You’ve got the guns, remember?”
Mercy nodded, becoming strangely hypnotised by Eddie’s power. It was as though she were back in the whorehouse, terrified of him. “Shut up, Eddie. Just get them,” she said, hardening her voice.
“All right, but don’t do anything daft. I’m going for the papers,” Eddie said. “You were right; they’re here, in the desk drawer.”
Eddie turned his back on her, bent over, and stretched his arm across the breadth of the desk. He opened a drawer, rummaged through it, and then slowly lifted something. Nelson had a better vie
w of the drawer than Mercy, and he could apparently now see a gun in Eddie’s hand. He screamed, visibly panicking at the sight of it.
“Gun – he got a gun!”
Mercy heard Nelson’s shout and reacted like lightning. She aimed the Colt at Eddie’s back. The gun was cocked, and she squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit him, nicking the back of his left ear.
For a second or two, Eddie looked stunned. Clearly in pain, he then cocked the gun in his hand and tried to straighten up properly in order to turn around and face Mercy.
Adrenaline pumping through her, Mercy squeezed the trigger repeatedly.
The snap, crack, and whistle were deafening. With each shot, Mercy saw Eddie’s blood explode and spray outwards from the centre of his back. Her finger wouldn’t stop squeezing the trigger until she heard Nelson scream her name again. “Stop shooting! Help me, Miss Mercy!”
She turned and saw him wrestling for the rifle with the giant slave. The noise of gunfire still rang in her ears. Moses was overpowering Nelson. The gun was being turned towards Nelson’s neck. Mercy aimed the gun at the giant’s head, squeezed the trigger twice in quick succession, and screamed, “No!” She continued to squeeze the Colt’s trigger, which now made nothing more than a clicking noise.
The slave’s head disintegrated. Blood splattered on Mercy’s gown and face. He hit the ground with a sickening thud.
Nelson’s voice once again brought her mind back from the brink of complete madness. Her entire body shook. She looked down. His big hands covered hers. Nelson’s fingers were on the gun barrel, still clicking. “Hush now, Miss Mercy. It’s over.”
Mercy realised that she was still screaming the word no.
“Miss Mercy, put the gun down. That’s right … now. Put the gun down. There ain’t nothin’ more to fire at. They be dead now – ain’t no doubting that.”