mother’s bread and cheese, since his journey had begun. Scraps of food tossed aside by others had taken the place of all other meals.
“Thank you, Frau….”
“I’m Andrea Thompson. And this here is my husband, Arnold. I translate for all those that come here. Of course, I can’t understand all of them. But if they’re from Russia, France, Poland, or where you are from, we get by.”
“I have never met anyone who knows so many languages.”
Andrea began preparing their supper, all the while translating the conversation between Arnold and Thomas. To help her, Thomas used his flint to light the fire inside of the iron stove. Arnold’s continued pouring from the bottle of rum and Thomas’ weariness slowed down their conversation considerably. Arnold rarely waited for answers to his questions; any answers to Thomas’ questions proved to be lengthy.
“Isn’t she a beauty?” Arnold pointed at Andrea. “You probably already noticed that she be the brains of me business. She does all the books for me. She can tell me how much we made and what we spent it on, down to the penny.”
“You have a good wife.”
“You can thank the German nanny and French cook she had growing up in London town.”
“So you and your wife are English.”
“Used to be. But they abolished slavery about five years back. So we moved to America and became Yanks. I’d had enough of hauling slaves on the sly, anyways. So’s I went to work finding white slaves, uh, I means servants.”
“You were a slave trader?” Thomas had learned of the practice while at school. He knew that with England and America officially out of the evil business the Arab nations were now the main participants and that smugglers still brought slaves to the United States. “Why did you stop?”
Arnold’s head drooped. “Guess me conscience died a long time ago, boy. I would tell meself because we was buying the African slaves from other African tribes which had captured them it was okay. Thank the Lord me wife only agreed to go to America if I gives up slaving for good. They still smuggle in slaves on the sly into America you know.”
“But what about what you do now?”
“Indentured servants is all different. You buggers agrees to work for yer food and shelter. No one makes you do it. But the demand for indentured servants be drying up now. You be the last one I ever be signing up for it. Me and the missus are sailing for America as soon as I can buy our fare.”
Andrea dropped the wooden spoon that she was using to stir the chowder into the pot’s boiling liquid. Tears rolled down her cheeks faster than she could dry them with her apron. Startled by the break in Andrea’s running translation, the often-mercurial husband turned toward his wife of 33 years and stammered.
“Sor…sorry, my dear. Guess I forgot to mention it, as usual. You and me both know that it’s time to get us a little farm where’s we can spend out the rest of our days.”
Thomas stared at the couple. Although he did not understand Arnold’s last few sentences because Andrea had ceased her translation, he nevertheless sensed the love flowing between the two. It reminded him of his parents. A wave of homesickness washed over him. Sadness filled his soul. Regrets of not listening to his family’s pleas for him to tame his huge thirst for beer tormented him.
The ensuing silence allowed Andrea to complete the meal. She sat down after Thomas had delivered the simmering pot to the table. Arnold offered one of his usual prayers.
“Dear God, we ask Ye to bless this food, then. And help this boy here find his pot of gold there in America.”
They ate quietly, except for Arnold, who wove his tales of a sailor’s life. Afterwards Thomas questioned Andrea nonstop about America. Somehow her descriptions of a rather tame New England seemed dull to him. Gradually his trust in the couple blossomed. They were the only ones whom he had met in the past few days whom he believed he could trust.
Before he sailed Thomas explained his real reason for going to America and begged them not to tell anyone who might come looking for him of his whereabouts. Because Arnold had been in trouble as a lad he agreed. Andrea usually could ferret any liars in her midst. Thomas seemed much too sincere and naïve to be one. Eventually she likewise believed the death to be an accident.
3
Rudolph traveled more slowly than Thomas, as he had often stopped to show the portrait to strangers to pick up the trail of his quarry. At first everyone shown it only shrugged or shook their heads to signify they had not. Then a farmer nodded his head yes and said that he had seen such a lad traveling west on the same road that Rudolph was traveling. When he learned from a stevedore that one who resembled Thomas had boarded a boat bound for Rotterdam, he followed by taking another one.
Why am I even doing this? He stared at the constellation of Orion after he rolled onto his back on the deck of the boat in a futile attempt to sleep. I know it is the honorable thing to do. But what if I come back empty handed? I’ll be the laughingstock of the village as usual. At least he ate better than the famished Thomas had. Equipped with money from his father, Rudolph sampled the cuisine at each place the boat docked.
During his second day in Rotterdam, he spotted one of Arnold’s handbills lying in a gutter. But by the time Rudolph arrived at the docks Thomas was at sea. He cursed at his bad luck of being a little late. He began to wonder if Thomas’ grieving mother had placed a hex on him.
“You missed him, mate.” Arnold informed the searcher as he placed the portrait back into his pack. “His ship sailed out of here this morning.”
“Where?” Rudolph spoke minimal but fractured English. He could understand more of the language than he could speak.
“America. And once he gets there then he’s headed off to a farm either in New York or Massachusetts.” Arnold lied. He knew that Thomas was bound for Pennsylvania. “That part of the bargain is up to those that meets the boat in New York. You family of his?”
The weary pursuer scowled. He understood only about a fifth of the words but he could fathom that Thomas was on his way to America. Reckless, he made a split second decision that years later would haunt him.
“I friend. I go America, yah?” Rudolph held up the tattered handbill.
“But I thought that Dutch boy I hired got rid of all me handbills. The missus and me sail for Boston in a few days. I’m out of the servant trade. Thomas was the last one.”
Rudolph could sense from Arnold’s expression and gestures what he could not understand from his words. “Oh.” His downcast expression bothered Arnold.
“Come in and sit a minute while I talks to me wife.”
As he sat down Rudolph surveyed the small lodging with its ramshackle furnishings and surmised that Arnold’s profession had not made the couple well to do. He sensed a degree of compassion from the old man. From the number of words coming from his unseen wife he was uncertain of how much, if any, compassion she had toward him. Finally the heated conversation upstairs ended. Arnold reappeared and introduced Andrea as they came down the stairs. She remained unconvinced that Arnold’s plan would keep this stranger from finding Thomas.
“And this is Rudolph, my dear.”
Andrea examined Rudolph with the aloofness that comes with repeated association with those who talk much but produce little. “What is your trade?” she asked in German.
Relief flooded Rudolph when he heard his native tongue. “I worked on a farm until last year. I now work in a brewery.”
“A brewery! My God! That’s all I need. Arnold already tips the bottle too much now. Can’t be having you around getting him discounts on beer all the time.” She studied Rudolph and sighed. Her reservation began to subside as she continued in German. “I guess I could help you learn more of the Queen’s English. We’re originally from England, you see.”
“Ah, yah. England.”
“Anyway Arnold here is retiring. I was beginning to think he’d die before he got around to it. He’s had his eyes on a little farm in Western Massachusetts. He says it needs a bit of w
ork. That’s probably why no one except him will buy it. We can pay your way to America if you can work for us until the farm is turning a profit. I keep the books so I’ll know when that happens.”
When Arnold saw her point to the ledger book next to him he sensed what she was saying in German. “She keeps the books down to the penny. Her father was a banker and taught her the meaning of money. I’d be a filthy beggar without her, I would.”
Rudolph jumped to his feet. “I will do it!” He grabbed Arnold’s hand first and then bowed as he shook Andrea’s.
Ever the businessman, Arnold had Rudolph sign the obligatory contract before he shared the remainder of his last bottle of rum with him. “Here’s to one last voyage across the Atlantic for me and the first for you!”
“Room on das Boot?” In his excitement Rudolph mixed the two languages that he knew.
“Don’t worry, son, there’s always room for one more when you knows the captain like I does.” Arnold swallowed his drink, licked his lips, belched, and refilled his glass. “Don’t you worry none now. I can get you on for free. Of course, you’ll have to work a wee bit as a helper to his crew. But it’ll be good experience. Not only will you get yer sea legs, you’ll be a full-blown sailor by the time we docks in Boston town!”
Rudolph remembered his promise to be back to help with the harvest at home. His guilt spurred him to at least contact his family. “I write