Chapter 6
A New Life
Patrick was greeted by a pair of women and a pair of boys sitting around a stone table. The older woman was wearing a sky blue dress, tied from the waist to the chest. Despite the oppressive Savannah heat, every inch of her was covered except her face. The younger woman could not have been more than fifteen; she had young skin and was wearing a shorter, yellow dress. Her exposed forearms and hands were covered with red mosquito welts. The two boys were dressed in matching tricorn hats, simple black vests and buckle shoes.
“Finally," Archibald announced, "this fine man is the indenture we have been planning to take on.” The family sitting around the table sprung to their feet and cheered. Patrick was taken aback by this display of appreciation and could not find his tongue. Archibald continued with the introductions. “This is my wife, Marian; my daughter, Heather; and my twin sons, Maximilian and Amos."
Amos walked over to the new indentured and said in a haughty accent, “You, sir, shall polish my shoes before bed every night.”
“And I demand you empty my chamber pot every morning,” Maximilian said, matching Amos’s mocking tone.
“Patrick, I’m sorry for these two. They joke even when it isn’t appropriate.” Archibald then turned to his sons and threatened, “You twins better behave or I will drop you off at the Bethesda Boys’ Home for Wayward Children.”
“I wish you would! Did you see how nice that building looks?” Amos snapped back with sarcasm. Archibald shot him a look and he immediately apologized to him and Patrick.
Turning to his wife, Archibald asked cheerfully, "What’s for dinner, Mrs. Freeman? Our new friend must be starving.”
“Mr. Freeman, we are dining on a bucket of crabs your two men, Maximilian and Amos, caught this morning in their traps,” Marian replied in a formal tone.
“Well done, lads," the father beamed with pride and asked, "Where did you trap them?”
Amos replied “A short skirmish south of the palisade, off a small outcrop, where that large rotted palmetto tree is.”
The Father picked up a snapping crab and chased after his boys with it saying, “Shall we eat them raw or introduce them to the kettle pot?” The family laughed at the scene of giggling boys running in circles around the stone table, just barely escaping the pinch of the angry crustacean. “Oh right! I forgot our manners," Archibald stated, ending the chase. "Wife, be a dandy and cook these crabs while I show this jasper to his quarters."
“Nice to meet such a lovely family,” Patrick said humbly as he departed, smiling at Heather.
Patrick followed Archibald to the shed. It was tight quarters and there was not one bit of space wasted. A hammock attached to the walls, and under that, boxes of metal scraps. There was a workbench full of tools, strange contraptions hanging from the rafters and a small window mostly blocked by even more tools.
“The outhouses are positioned on the north side of town against the palisades currently, but they will be moved again shortly," Archibald instructed. "You can always go just outside the palisades in the swamp; nobody will get up in arms about it. Just bring a bucket of water and sponge with you. It's hard to find foliage to clean your backside that won’t redden your rear. It seems everything green is poisonous out there,” Archibald continued as Patrick tried catching every word he said. "Water is abundant and everywhere. You can get water out of the rivers, but it is best from any of the streams around,” Archibald explained.
“I have had a very long journey, but I am ready to work if you like,” Patrick stated eagerly.
“No. Not tonight. Tonight we get to know you and determine if we wasted all our family’s gold coin or not. Shall we have some grog before dinner and watch the sun slowly retire, Mr. Willis?” Mr. Freeman grinned.
Patrick sighed happily, “Yes sir. That would be dandy good.”
Both men sat down on stumps in the yard, staring at the sky. Archibald called for Heather to fetch him drinks and the men began to relax, getting to know each other better. Archibald removed his tricorn hat revealing his white curly wig. Patrick suspected he shaved his head, like most men, to avoid lice and wore a wig to stay stylish. As Archibald scratched at the wig in the warm Savannah heat, he asked very seriously, “Tell me, Patrick, how did you venture up here in Savannah? Truthfully.”
Patrick anguished. Should he tell the truth or do as Mr. Mandrik instructed and omit the prison section of his tale? He drew a breath and spoke, “Well my Father was a prominent jeweler in London and I studied the craft. I took to the skill fast and made my father proud. Bad fortune fell on our family and he became a lunger." Patrick embellished a little, "After he died, I decided to earn my fortune in the New World with hope of sending for my family one day.”
Heather appeared smiling with two wooden mugs of grog. She made a polite bow and handed the first cup to her father and then repeated the action for Patrick.
“So did you take a bride back in London, Patrick?” Heather chimed in. Her father shot daggers out of his eyes at the girl.
Patrick had not even seen a woman in eight years, never mind spoke to one. Nervousness overwhelmed him. He fumbled “Um, no ma’am. I’ve never took a woman. I mean bride. I mean, I have never been sealed in nuptials, with a woman. Not that I mean I took nuptials with a man." He hemmed and hawed, "I mean, uh... I mean, I never had the chance to, um...”
Archibald rescued the floundering man, “I think he means he is still trying to meet the right lady.”
“Yes, yes and yes," Patrick agreed quickly, adding, "That is true what he be saying.”
Heather laughed at Patrick’s awkwardness and strolled slowly back inside the house.
“Well Patrick, let me tell you what you will be doing the next few years." Archibald went back to his instructions and his grog. "I am a blacksmith if you could not tell by my bib. I make my fortune mainly on making nails, horseshoes and tools. Times are demanding more of me lately and I cannot keep true to the demand. So I am hopeful you will take to working with iron as well as you took working with to silver and help me stay level with said production." The wigged man queried, "Do you think you can adapt your skills with your hands?”
Patrick nodded in agreement, as he guzzled his grog.
Archibald continued, “It is pretty simple but very repetitive, the real silver to be made is in gunshot and muskets. The king’s forces constantly demand shot. They drop their casting equipment off for the day and we custom make shot for their muskets. The redcoats keep careful watch that the colonists don't make too many guns for themselves or they'll simply confiscate them from us non-military locals. If you plan on getting your own musket soon, you'd be careful to keep it hidden until you go hunting. It's best not to tempt those red demons.”
“I can’t even fathom being able to afford my own firearm. I was a fine shot with a sling in my boyhood," Patrick joked. "These days I could not even afford a rock to throw.”
Marian interrupted them, announcing that dinner was now ready. She insisted that the family dine outside because she did not want her home to reek of crab and low tide, so the family gathered in the back yard under the dogwood tree. The tree was in an unusual second, yellow bloom and provided refuge from the sweltering sunlight. The shade extended over one large stump that was surrounded by eight logs sitting upright. The family sat on the makeshift, wooden seats and dropped the cooked crabs on the large stump table from a steaming pot. To add to the feast, Heather set out some fresh cornbread, presented in a small basket and wrapped in a cloth napkin to protect it from the clouds of flies.
Sitting down, around the great stump covered with boiled crab, the family started giggling as Archibald cheerfully counted, “One, two, three!" The family playfully grabbed at the food as fast as hungry orphans and competed for slices of the cornbread. Boisterous laughing ensued as Marian and Amos played tug a war with a crab until it broke in two. Such a ridiculous and vulgar display of manners only increased the fami
ly’s joy and laughter.
Patrick was taken aback by this odd display. No prayer was said, no proper rotation of hierarchical serving was observed, just chaos. He sat there with a stunned look on his face as the family grabbed for crabs. Maximilian smiled, presenting Patrick with a crab and large piece of yellow bread. “I am faster than my father," the twin stated slyly. "Here, take these.” Patrick laughed loudly and dove into the cornbread, smearing it in his beard. The family chuckled as the smashing sounds of crab shells and wood hammers echoed in the air. Much laughter was heard from under the dogwood for the rest of the evening as the libations continued to flow.
Later in the evening, Archibald led Patrick to his hammock in the moonlight and bragged, “Be ready for a tour of Savannah tomorrow. I want to show you off."
Patrick slowly mounted his hammock clumsily. “Months on a ship and I still can’t figure these contraptions out,” Patrick confessed with a grin as the two men laughed warmly.
“You will," Archibald promised. "You can rest during second sleep until the seasons change.”
As with most cultures around the world, the night was split into first and second sleep. This tradition was carried over from the old world to the colonies. First sleep was about an hour after dinner until the witching hour of midnight. Second sleep was from midnight till sunrise. The late hours where used for just about anything. Many chores were done as well as hobbies. Many times the women knitted or prepared food for the next day's meal. The men completed chores that were too difficult to do in the day’s heat like late night wood chopping or hauling. In the Freeman house, it was also a great time to read and they burned through barrels of whale oil in their lamps.
As Archibald retired to the house, Patrick smiled as he gently swung himself fast asleep in his hammock.