Read Queen Page 7

watching the sailors clamber up the ropes with the agility of monkeys,

  furling or unfurling the vast sheets of canvas to mysterious commands, or

  singing sea chanteys when, as if on their knees in a pagan temple to the

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  BLOODLINES 51

  sea, they holystoned the wooden decks to a pristine whiteness. He loved the

  salty, briny wind, and the companionship of his fellow passengers, who

  shared, in varying degrees, a fear of their formidable voyage, but were

  united in a common optimism that their destination would be the earthly

  paradise they sought.

  The great port of Liverpool had excited and frustrated him. He was overawed

  by the huge numbers of ships in the harbor, which had journeyed from every

  comer of the earth, bringing with them strange and exotic cargoes. He

  smelled the scent of spices he had never known, and watched in wonder the

  unloading of the chests of tea from India and silks from China and cotton

  from Madras, sheets of raw cork from Portugal, and oranges from Spain. He

  loved being among the community of seafaring folk, the hardy and colorful

  sailors, rings in their ears and tattoos on their arms, who walked with a

  rolling gait, as the rolling sea had taught them. He saw small brown men

  from the Malacca Straits, and blond descendants of the Vikings, giants to

  him, and heard strange languages that were beautiful and others that grated

  on his ears. He loved the women of the dockside, raw and lusty creatures,

  who cheered when the ships docked and wept when they left, and he spent

  days in tiny smoky taverns by the water, hearing tall tales of the seven

  seas, and Africa and Madagascar, the Azores and the Caribbean, Araby and

  Siam.

  And he saw a black boy, the first he had ever seen.

  A well-dressed woman came to the docks to greet her returning husband, a

  captain. Behind her trotted a little black boy, elegantly appareled in

  velvet and a turban, and around his neck was a long silver chain, with

  which his mistress led him. Like a pet dog, James thought, and watched as

  they passed by, fascinated by the ebony child. He had heard of these

  African creatures, niggers as they were called, heathen sava-es, who ran

  around naked in their native jungles, bloodthirsty warriors, licentious

  animals.

  He heard of the slave ships that sailed from England to Africa with cargoes

  of iron or manufactured goods, and from Africa to America with cargoes of

  naked savages, and from America back to England with raw cotton, or

  tobacco, or rice. He had heard of the calls for abolition of the slave

  trade from

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  some of the church people, and the furious opposition to that abolition,

  for the slaves were apparently the most lucrative of all cargoes, and some

  of the planters in America claimed they could not survive without the

  labor. He had no special feelings about it, for it was not part of his

  life. The fate of these odd and alien creatures did not matter to him, one

  way or the other.

  He grew impatient as his days of waiting wore on, for he longed to be at

  sea himself, to experience some of what he had heard about, off on his

  own great adventure. He lost a little money to a prostitute and a little

  more to a pickpocket. He avoided the city itself and stayed near the

  docks, for he quickly discovered that his Irish accent caused him to be

  disparaged among people whose own dialect seemed primitive and guttural

  to him.

  When he boarded his ship at last, the cramped spaces belowdecks surprised

  him, and he banged his head several times on overhead beams, before

  leaming to duck, as the sailors did, as naturally as breathing. He shared

  his cramped and crowded cabin with five others, Englishmen who loved their

  country and couldn't wait to leave it. Good-humoredly, they denigrated the

  Americans as ungrateful and troublesome colonists, but were anxious to be

  of their number. They baited him for a bog-Irish peasant, and he took

  their jokes in good part, but they wearied him, and sometimes he had

  trouble controlling his temper. The tiny cabin was claustrophobic, and the

  natural human stench of his fellows reminded James of his time in prison.

  He talked with the first officer, and they gave him a hammock, and on the

  pleasanter nights, he slung that hammock up on deck, with the sailors, and

  slept pleasantly, rocked by the gentle wind.

  The food was awful but edible, pickled pork and potatoes for the first

  few weeks, dried beef and hardtack later. The lore of the sea fascinated

  him, the defined but easy hierarchy, the absolute power of the captain,

  the endless, easy grumbling of the tars, and the constant cheerful

  resentment by all the seamen of their tantalizing, temperamental bitch

  goddess, the sea, which they loved with all their hearts.

  They talked with him about their country, for which they had a deep and

  abiding affection, and gave him some sense

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  of the awesome size of it. James had always known that America was a large

  country. Now he leamed that the United States was but a small fraction of

  that continent. The physical land itself ranged from the ice-ridden north

  to the tropical south, encompassing mountains and deserts, forests and

  wilderness, and some of the finest farming land in the world. The British

  still ruled the northern part, Canada, the Mexicans controlled the and

  southwest and the legendary California, and the French, under Napoleon,

  had assumed from the Spanish the great southern region of swamps and

  jungle that was known as Florida.

  "Go west," they told him. "A man can find his true self there, and own

  land beyond his imagining, just for the taking. "

  For themselves, they had found their fortune at sea. So many of the young

  men of America went west, to settle the vast new territories, that

  sailors were in short supply, and well paid because of it, They cursed

  the British, who ruled the seas, and frequently stopped and boarded

  American ships, and pressed into service any of the crew who still

  maintained British nationality. They nodded their heads wisely at the

  stories of the savage Indians, but dismissed them as any threat to the

  settled colonies. The Indians were retreating, to the west, before the

  settlers' advance, and soon must stand with their backs to the great

  Pacific Ocean, and then where would they go?

  As they sailed on, he began to understand something of that love, for

  there was only the sea, always the sea, endlessly the sea. fie was lost

  in a world of water and sky, on which the sun rose each morning, and the

  stars and moon each night, and always, the crew told him, where they were

  supposed to be. The small ship became their only world, and each aboard

  it was joined to the others by a strange and powerful sense of community,

  united before a common foe, a common love, that was awesome in its

  breadth and power.

  The storm
came, and frightened James at first, for he could not imagine

  that they could survive it. He was forced to sleep in his cabin, when he

  could sleep, and the men with him were as scared as he.

  "Surely America must be heaven," one said. "For you have to go through

  hell to get there. "

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  He preferred the attitude of the sailors, for they respected the wrath

  of the tempest, and were not overawed by it. They believed in their

  survival because of their skill and seamanship, their stoutly built

  craft, and because they had weathered worse, much worse, before.

  Then winds abated and the seas quieted, and for the next few weeks they

  sailed through calmer water, blue skies, and sunny weather. Flying fishes

  tripped through the whitecaps, and landed sometimes on the deck, and were

  good eating. At night the tars would gather round the capstan and sing

  chanteys, and dance strange steps that were, James guessed, centuries

  old, and known only to men of the sea. He laughed with the others when

  the two apprentices had their cars pierced with hot needles against cork,

  and wore the small threads of blue wool proudly, for days to come, as

  symbols of their initiation as mariners.

  He learned the map of the stars in heaven, and the directions of the

  wind. He saw whales, enormous creatures that spouted water from their

  backs like fountains, and could not believe what his eyes told him. He

  began to believe all the legends of the sea, of mermaids and sirens, and

  strange monsters from the deep. He lay in the bow for hours, in the

  sunshine days, delighting at the dolphins as they frolicked at the prow,

  and believed, as the sailors did, that these joyous creatures were

  guardians, guiding them safely to haven.

  He felt safe in their company, and as he watched them, following where

  they led, he dreamed of the life that would soon be his, on the distant

  shores that the dolphins knew.

  Bom to money, born to a secure station, his father's ffiends were

  oriented toward England, and many regarded the former colonies of America

  still as colonies, a hostile land of fort-ner convicts and the dregs of

  Europe, governed by unscrupulous merchants and planters, and constantly

  threatened by wild Indian savages. None denied the riches that could be

  made there, but all disparaged the way those riches were made, and the

  resulting lawless, classless society, in which Mammon was the only God.

  Yet the sailors told of a different America, of freedom and peace and a

  settled life. Go west, they told him, where a few dollars will buy a

  thousand acres, and a man could be a king

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  in his own castle. If he could survive the Indians.

  From his Protestant teachers at school in Dublin, he had heard of a

  different America again, of a land free of religious intolerance, a land

  where idyllic, Godfearing communities could flourish in peace and

  tranquillity. If they could survive the Indians.

  From his school friends, he had heard of an untamed paradise, where wild

  animals roamed the wilderness, and a man could test himself against

  nature, and find undiscovered territories, and be hailed as an exploring

  hero. If he could survive the Indians.

  His rebel friends had told him of a utopian society of political freedom,

  whose brave, pioneering citizens had risen up against the colonial yoke,

  and broken the shackle of it, had triumphed over Britain, and had spat

  in the face of the mad king. A land where all men were regarded as equal,

  and all had equal opportunity-to be a simple farmer or leader of their

  fledgling democracy, as they chose. If they could survive the Indians.

  From his peasant friends he teamed of a different America yet, a new Erin

  that had cast off its colonial shackles, and become a safe haven for all

  who sought refuge there, a land of boundless opportunity, the streets of

  whose small cities were paved with gold, and whose black soil was the

  richest anywhere in the world. A land where simple peasants could find

  shelter, and be respected as human beings, and could own their own land,

  beholden to no one, paying rent to no absentee landlord across the seas,

  and where they could grow old in security and leave something for their

  children to inherit. If they could survive the Indians.

  From Jimmy Hanna, he had teamed of the Founding Fathers, and the

  Declaration of Independence, which was, according to Jimmy, the simplest,

  most eloquent foundation for the creation of an idyllic country that had

  ever been written, the culmination of three thousand years of human

  reason, Jimmy Hanna was not as concerned about the Indians as the others.

  They are heathen savages, he said, and they will come to God or they will

  perish, for America is God's gift to us, a reward for all our labors.

  He realized something that came as a sweet surprise to him.

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  All his life he had sought a cause to believe in and to fight for. He had

  thought it was the Irish peasants, but he was not of their number, and so

  that cause was adopted, false, and not of his true soul. For a time he had

  thought it was the nationalist cause, of being a foot soldier in the

  glorious war of ridding Ireland of foreign domination, as the Americans

  had done, but now he believed that cause hopeless, and Ireland lost.

  America.

  The word, the name, kept ringing in his ears. America, land of freedom

  and liberty. America, land of promise and fulfillment. America, where all

  men were equal, and could lead pleasant, fulfilling lives in the pursuit

  of happiness.

  America.

  America was his cause, he knew, America was his passion, America was his

  creed. He would become a good citizen of his new country, and work to

  take advantage of the boundless opportunity it afforded. He would go

  west, and build an estate of such magnitude that his father must

  apologize, and stand in awe of him, for he would be magnificent. He would

  not forget the experiences of his youth; he would dedicate his life to

  his fellowmen, and strive for the ideals of America, of liberty for all

  and the equality of all men, and if necessary, he would die in defense

  of what he believed. He could not think of a nobler cause.

  They had been at sea for weeks, and for a time all had been bored with

  their journey and with each other, but they knew they must be nearing

  their destination, and they began to forget the quarrels they had with

  their temporary traveling companions, and looked forward to the new life.

  Progressively, with each meal, with each conversation, the subject turned

  more and more to what they hoped to achieve after landfall, and James

  discovered his passion was shared, to a greater or lesser degree, by them

  all, and it reinforced his own.

  He was dozing in the prow one sunny afternoon, and woke to a strange cry

  he had never heard before. A sense of anticipation and excitement buzzed

/>   through the crew and the passengers, and they ran to the side of the

  ship.

  The cry came again, from the lookout, who had a better vantage point high

  in the crow's nest.

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  "Land ho! " -

  It was Newfoundland, the land so newly found, and although they could not

  see it, they knew it was there, for one of their number had seen it, and

  it would appear to all of them soon. Gulls appeared, as if from nowhere,

  the cawing heralds of their arrival.

  "I see it!" Reverend Blake cried. He pointed to the horizon, and then

  fell to his knees, his wife beside him, to pray for whatever it was he

  wanted to find, or give thanks for what he had endured.

  James, from his vantage point in the bow, climbed onto the bowsprit and

  saw it now, a thin, dark sliver of something, between the sea and the

  sky. He cried out in joy, and his soul sang. As they sailed on, the

  sliver got larger and longer, and changed from black to a deep and misty

  blue.

  The land shimmered before them, lazy, hazy, repository of all their

  dreams and aspirations. They had left unsatisfactory lives behind them

  for the promise of untainted opportunity; they had cut themselves adrift

  from all they held dear, from the soil of their birth and the bonds of

  their families. They had escaped from rigid and unyielding societies in

  search of something better, fairer, and had put their faith in a small

  and fragile boat, and a dream that was intangible and glorious, the right

  to carve out their own lives, according to the destiny they perceived for

  themselves, and a dream of freedom, in whatever form they desired that

  freedom to be.

  They had found what they sought.

  America.

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  Philadelphia was almost everything he hoped it would be, but not quite

  in the way he had imagined.

  His very first impressions of the city had confirmed for him, if he

  needed such confirmation, that he had arrived at a place

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  that was quite unlike anything he had known. The streets were wide and

  straight, and well ordered. The houses were clean, brightly painted, and

  built of red brick or wood, unlike the stone buildings of Dublin, or even

  Liverpool, and the people who dwelt in those houses were a different breed.

  There was a sense of bustle and purpose about them, tempered by an evident

  enjoyment of life. They seemed to be constantly going somewhere or doing

  something, always on the move and yet never too busy to stop and bid a

  cheery greeting to friends. They were casual in their language and

  relationships and dress. Many of the men, and some of the women, had adopted

  trousers, rather than breeches, and tricoms instead of top hats. Their

  language shocked him. They cursed and swore commonly, and yet there was an

  abundance of churches. It was a town of immigrants, and he heard the Irish

  brogue often, but German and French as frequently. The summer weather was

  hot and humid, but it had little effect on those who were used to it, and

  they bustled about their business as if it were a mild spring day.

  Everyone had an opinion as to how money could he made, and everyone had an

  opinion as to how best their country could be run, but these opinions were

  divergent and often contradictory. The only common certainty was the

  passion of their belief in their country, and of their own ability to

  prosper. That they prospered was beyond question. James had never seen such

  general well-being, and while there were poor, their poverty would have

  been riches to an Irish peasant.

  Suddenly, the reason for this casual vibrancy occurred to James. Americans

  said what they liked because they could, and did what they liked because

  they could. For the first time in his life he was living in a place that

  did not have a sense of oppression. No one had any need to look over his

  shoulder before whispering a complaint of the ruling class, because there