A STRONG NORTHEAST wind blew across the harbor the afternoon the Hales left, relentless in its assault, growing in strength each passing day, until all the ships in the harbor were in danger of parting from their cables. The Industry stayed anchored as she waited out the weather, but for those caught between-decks it was small comfort.
On the fourth day, when the wind was at its most vicious and cold, the ocean spray filling the air began to freeze, coating the masts and the rigging with ice. An enormous crash could be heard over the howling of the wind as the mizzen mast collapsed from the weight of the ice.
David and Liam were lodged with others under one of the tables, past caring they were sitting in filth and more than a foot of icy seawater. Many passengers, David included, rushed the companionway at the crash, determined to break open the hatch, determined the hold would not become their coffin. Just as they reached it, a seaman opened it and dropped down.
“Mr. Ritcher says to tell ye all it’s only the mizzen mast fractured. The ship is safe, and he believes the worst to be soon over,” Alex shouted above the din.
“The water, Alex. We’re filling up with water down here. Granted ye canna see it, but ye feel it, surely ye can!” David said.
Alex laughed as the next roll threw David into the side of the ship. “Lubber, still ain’t got yer sea legs, eh? The water don’t signify, David. It’s bound to come through the seams during a storm such as this. Yer safer down here, that’s the truth of it, and I’m to stay here for the duration. Now where’d ye stash Liam?”
A WEEK LATER the damage was still being tallied. Two brigs and several sloops and schooners had sunk at the wharves; many smaller vessels were entirely lost. Bodies were being found daily along the shoreline. David was frantic. He asked Mr. Ritcher repeatedly if he’d received news of the Hales and got the same answer each time. Ritcher knew they had made it to town since the lighter had arrived back with their provisions, but other than that, he’d had no news of them.
He shouldn’t have let her go, he should have gone with her.
In desperation, he negotiated passage into town with one of the ship’s suppliers. Ritcher got wind of it within minutes and threatened to chain him by the ankles in the cargo hold, as well as to tell his uncle. He didn’t know if Ritcher had the authority to follow through, but the threat to tell his uncle was enough. It would be bound to set him against the lass.
David had distanced himself from his uncle, Liam, and the others. But no one thought to comment, if they’d even noticed. The violence of this last storm had changed the passengers, stunned them into passivity. They no longer questioned; they simply waited. He struggled with the loss he felt. He’d known her such a short time. He’d likely see her again; the emptiness just didn’t make sense. He couldn’t talk to his uncle about it; mention of her faith had begun to creep into their conversations, and he sensed the man was relieved the Hales had left the ship. Liam, mayhap, but Liam was antsy with the waiting and out of sorts himself.
BY MID-JANUARY a warm wind blew in from the south, bringing with it a warm rain. Captain Honeywell announced the ships’ carpenters had completed the necessary repairs. They would make for Philadelphia once more.
Alone, he stood at the rail, watching the shoreline as the ship made its way north. From time to time they traveled close enough that he could make out the dense forests lining the coast. Not a farm, not a village, not a fishers’ cot in sight; what a vast, empty country this must be.
They were close now, he could tell by the watching the crew. Close. A day more? Two?
He drew in a deep breath, relishing the clean smell of the slight breeze. It could be considered warm, he supposed, but only if one compared it to the frigid wind of weeks past. All the sailors were busy: scraping and painting the masts that hadn’t already been attended to during the repairs, blackening the yards, tarring the rigging, plus a host of other tasks he still couldn’t put a name to. Alex was taking a holystone to the deck; David dropped to his knees to help him.
“Maybe tomorrow, David, we’re close now. ‘Pends if we can hire on a pilot quick enough.”
An hour later they reached the Capes sheltering the entrance to the Delaware. The captain told the passengers to get their belongings in order. They’d likely reach Philadelphia by tomorrow. A month ago that would have brought cheers. Now the only response was noncommittal grunts.
Well, enough was enough. He’d carried this cag too long. He sought out Liam.
“We’re almost there, Liam. What’s the first thing ye plan to do when ye touch land?”
“Eat.”
David laughed. “Aye. And drink. A full pint of anything wet that isn’t laced with vinegar or tar.”
Liam looked at him, his keen eyes missing nothing. “Ye’ll be joining the living again, then?”
“Aye.”
Liam nodded, satisfied, and turned to listen to Captain Honeywell. He’d asked the passengers to gather on deck so that he could advise them of the procedures that would be taking place.
“It’s been a long journey for all of us,” Honeywell said. “I for one am thankful we’ve suffered no loss of life. Now, we’re apt to be put through inspection. You’re to have your quarters clean, as well as yourselves. We’re subject to quarantine at the whim of an inspector; do I make myself clear? Leave no doubt as to the state of your health. Shouldn’t be a problem. We’ve been lucky enough to have no fever on board as of yet.”
The pilot’s ship arrived, and the pilot, an unusual looking man considering the primitive circumstances, boarded the Industry.
“Will ye look at him, Davey. Did ye ever see such as he? America must be a fine place indeed,” Liam said. “Good it is ye swabbed the deck, otherwise he might get the soles of his boots dirty.”
“Don’t be too quick to judge, Liam, Philly is no small port. I’ll wager he knows his trade,” Rob said.
In spite of his dandified appearance, the pilot proved more than capable. At long last, twelve weeks after leaving London, the Industry began the slow journey through the Capes and up the Delaware.
February 6, 1784—As I write this, the Industry is finally being escorted up the Delaware to Philadelphia. We took on a pilot last evening on account of the great many rocks at the capes. We should let go the anchor by day’s end and all aboard feel thankful and blessed to have made the passage without loss of life. Upon entering the Delaware we encountered eight vessels run ashore on the inside of Cape Henlopen. We learned one was from Bristol, four others from London. I did not learn of the port of origin of the other three. Captain Honeywell took on as many of the survivors as the Industry could hold, I estimate about fifty, and left the remainder of our provisions with the others. Uncle John reminds me of our good fortune to sail with such a compassionate man.
Whilst we were making these arrangements, a host of ships sailed out of the Delaware. We learned from the pilot that on Thursday and Friday last, Philadelphia experienced southerly winds, accompanied by rain. This opened navigation, and as a result on Sunday between twenty and thirty of outward-bound vessels were finally able to leave Philadelphia to proceed on their intended voyages. These same events have allowed the vessels that had been detained at the Cape by the ice to come up to town.
I’ll wager this journey has been the most eventful thing I’ve experienced to date, and while I don’t regret the experience, I am relieved it is finished. Now I wait to hear news of Elisabeth.
Praise for Voices Beckon
(the full length novel)
"Utterly Compelling" - Publishers Weekly
“Writing style is full of rich dialogues . . . characterization is unhurried, developing with ease and grace.” ~ Cheryl E. Rodriguez for Readers’ Favorite
“I absolutely loved my introduction to Liam Brock and his friends in Voices Beckon.” ~ RomanticHistoricalReviews.com
“I tend to be very picky about the details and I expect them to be correct . . . the right details gave the book an air of authenticity. I enjoyed ever
y moment and would highly recommend it to my bookish friends.” ~ Kathryn Bennett for Readers’ Favorite
“The scattering of eighteenth-century language made it more authentic . . . highly recommend this book and anxiously await the next.” ~ Trudi LoPreto for Readers’ Favorite
Excerpt from Voices Beckon
“KEEPING YOU BUSY OVER there, are they, David? I haven’t seen you in a while,” the clerk said.
“Yes, sir, I was helping the Mrs. pack up for the summer. She’s off to stay with her cousin for a wee bit.”
The air hung hot and heavy this morning, thick with flies. He shifted his shoulders and reached back a hand to peel his shirt from his back, wrinkling his nose as his own scent rose above the myriad of others. “It’s wicked hot today, isna it?”
“Ahh, this is your first summer. I’d forgotten. It’ll get worse. Here you go, only three today. Give my regards to Robert.”
“Aye, Mr. Todd, later then.” The man was daft; it couldn’t get worse.
Elisabeth. He stopped and moved off the footpath. She was just a block down, walking with a young black woman. At least he thought it was her. The way the lass moved, the tilt of her head as she talked to her companion—aye, it was her. Had to be; no other reason his heart would be slamming up against his ribs. He ducked into the alley to give himself a moment to think. Should he just let her pass? Would she be embarrassed to be approached by someone of his sort on the street?
“God in Heaven, what’s the matter with me?” he mumbled as she approached and passed. He stepped to the entrance of the close.
“Lisbeth.”
She stopped, but didn’t turn, canting her head as if listening.
“Bess.” He stepped out of the shadows of the alley, removing his hat as she turned, watching her eyes carefully as she looked at him. Confusion, surprise, then a vivid flash of joy before shyness won out. She remembers. He stepped toward her, reaching out a hand to cup her chin, running his thumb across her jaw. She closed her eyes, sighing softly.
“You look well, lass.” Better than well. God, how he’d missed her.
“You better get your hands off her, mistuh, ‘fore I call for the watch.” The young black woman grabbed Elisabeth’s arm, pulling her back.
“No! Polly, no. This is David. It’s all right; this is David.”
“Is not all right, missy, it’s a whipping I’ll be earning, your Papa see you dawdling on this here street with the likes of him while I be standing by.”
“Polly!” Elisabeth said, her horror showing at Polly’s lack of manners.
“It’s all right, Lisbeth,” he said, turning to the girl. “Polly, is it? David Graham. It’s glad I am to meet ye.” He held out his hand and, though she made a point of ignoring it, he thought he could detect a slight twitching at the corner of her mouth. She was a beautiful young woman. He wondered at her place; no slave he’d seen to date carried herself like she did.
“Dontcha be turning your charm on me, mistuh, won’t get you anywhere but on your backside. I know my duty.”
“I’m sure that you do, Miss Polly, and I’m grateful she has ye at her side. It’s only a minute of her time I’m asking for.” He looked back at Elisabeth, hoping for help. The intensity of her gaze caught him by surprise as she looked up at him, her lips parting as she met his eyes.
Heat shot through him, pooling in his loins. He turned to Polly, his manner no longer mild. “Ye wait right on that bench there, Polly. I’ll have her back to ye in three minutes. Track the time for me, aye?” He pulled Elisabeth into the shadows of the close without waiting for an answer, leaving Polly on the street staring at him, hands on her hips, her mouth open.
His hands cradled her face, and he kissed her, his tongue seeking, meeting, remembering. He moved a hand down her face, fingers following the graceful curve of her neck, gratified as he felt her pulse race at his touch, as he heard her moan of protest when he pulled away. He held her close and spoke, pressing her head to his chest.
“I’ve missed ye, lass. I was so worried. We’ve only a minute ‘fore your maid calls. Can ye meet me? Later?”
She pulled away, looking up at him, her eyes filling as she shook her head. “I can’t. I don’t know how I can.” She ran her hand across his hair. “You’re tying it back now.”
“Aye, is it all right, ye think?”
She nodded. “It’s only that it no longer curls. I loved the feel of the curls.” She ran her fingers across his face, and he felt her touch all the way to his toes. “You’ve shaved.”
He grinned. “Aye.”
“I’m sorry, I’m babbling. I’ve missed you so. I’ve a mountain of letters to give you. John told me you’d asked after me, but I didn’t know what to do with them. It seemed too forward to have them delivered.”
“I bring your paper. Leave them with John, and I’ll pick them up Wednesday. I’ll write ye as well, but think on it, Elisabeth. It’s your company I miss as well as your touch. I need to see you. I need to. Your girl is looking worried, I’ll no’ try her patience longer.” He kissed her quickly and turned her, his hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her toward the footpath.
ELISABETH LOOKED BACK to say something, but he had already disappeared into the shadows of the alley. Faith, he was even more handsome than she’d remembered. Perhaps it was the clean shave and his hair pulled back in the cue, or maybe the passage of time. But his cheekbones were more pronounced, his jaw more square, his warm eyes brighter, his dimples deeper, his mouth . . . My word, just the sight of him had made her senses swim. She raised her fingers to touch her lips.
Polly grabbed her, turning her. “Look sharp Miss Elisabeth, your Papa’s coming up the street to fetch us. Please missy, get that look off your face.”
He mesmerized her; there was no accounting for it. It took her a moment to register what Polly was saying, though her Papa’s voice brought her to, quickly.
“There you are, Elisabeth. I’ve finished with the tailor. Is there anything you’d like to do before we return?”
“No, Papa,” she said automatically. “I’m ready.” Turning to follow her father as he walked toward home, she held back slightly to keep pace with Polly.
“Do you see now, Polly?” she whispered.
Polly giggled softly. “Yes, missy. He’s fine.”
“SHE’S HERE, LIAM. I saw her, I talked to her,” David said.
“Aye, I thought as much.” It was Saturday, and Liam was waiting for David to finish at the printing office. “Mr. Hale came to the school to talk to Mr. Oliver. Mr. O is beside himself, as it seems she’s convinced her Da to let her teach the wee ones in exchange for lessons. The lass appears no’ to have forgotten ye.”
David stopped abruptly, and the water in the pail he carried sloshed over his shoes. “And ye waited til now to tell me?”
“It was only yesterday, David.” He grinned as David glared at him. “Well, truth be, Mr. O didna tell me of the visit til this morning. I ran across Mr. Hale in the market a few weeks ago, mind, and cornered the cove with stories of the Academy and our progress. I wasna sure anything would come of it, so I didna mention it. It was only my first go at it, see. I came as soon as I knew ye to be free.”
*******
Continue the story with Voices Beckon, P.2 and Pt 3:
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Cast of Characters
Passengers on the Industry:
David Graham – Scotch-Irish, apprenticed to a Philadelphia printer
Elisabeth Hale –English, accompanying her father to America
Liam Brock – Scot, apprenticed to Mr. Oliver
Reverend John Wilson – David’s maternal uncle, a Presbyterian minister
Edward Hale – Elisabeth’s father, an English gentleman
Mr. Oliver – guardian to Liam and Rob, traveling to Philadelphia to open a scho
ol
Rob – Scot, apprenticed to Mr. Oliver
Sean – young boy under Mr. Oliver’s care on the Industry, traveling to join his brother in Pittsburg
Mary Andrews – passenger on the Industry who offers to cook for David and his uncle
The MacTavishes: Annie, Seamus, and Ewan – Irish passengers with gift for music
Sarah Wallace – accompanied by her father, Sarah has her eye on David
Mr. Wallace – Sarah’s alcoholic father
Mr. and Mrs. Kiefer and son Paul – German emigrants, Paul befriends Sean
Crew on the Industry:
Captain Honeywell – Captain
Sam Ritcher – First Mate
Alex Mannus – young sailor who befriends David and Liam
Print Shop:
Mr. Hall – David’s master
Mr. Sellers – Hall’s partner in printing business
Robert Store – journeyman in print shop, David’s superior
Ian – apprentice closest in tenure and age to David
Thomas – senior apprentice in shop when David first arrives in Philadelphia
Hale household:
Mrs. Hale – Elisabeth’s grandmother
John Black – cook
Polly – maidservant and friend to Elisabeth
Tom Abernathy – butler
Jane – servant
Others:
James – apprentice to sailmaker
Rory Smith – foreman (and later owner) of paper mill outside Philadelphia
Victoria Billings – in Philadelphia with her father, readying for a trip out west
Silas Warner – Philadelphia bookbinder
Eunice Warner – daughter to Silas Warner
Mr. Coxcombe – occasional escort of Mrs. Hale
Mary – Elisabeth’s friend
Rhiannon (Rhee) – Elisabeth’s best friend (in England)
Becca – Elisabeth’s cocker spaniel
GLOSSARY of Eighteenth-Century Vocabulary
bairn – a child (back)
bawbee – a silver coin of minimal value (cant) (back)
boll – a measure of weight (back)
cèilidh – a social evening with music, singing, dancing, etc. (back)
chit – a dismissive term for a girl (back)
cull – man (cant) (back)
eijit – idiot (back)
fash – fret, worry (back)
receipt – a recipe (back)
sassenach – an English person (back)
silkie – seal (back)
whist – a trick-taking card game popular in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries (back)
victuals – food (back)
zounds – a mild oath, contracted from ‘God’s wounds’ (back)
About the Author
Linda Lee Graham is the author’s pen name.
Voices indulges a passion for genealogy with a love of history.
If you have an interest in some of the stories behind the story, be sure to visit www.LindaLeeGraham.com.
The series continues with Voices Whisper and Voices Echo
The Philadelphia of Voices
Scanned portion of the PLAN OF CITY AND SUBURBS OF PHILADELPHIA 1794 (modified with Skitch)
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