The scene down at the Charles Town harbor was busier than when we’d arrived the day before. Last minute supplies were being run up the ramp of the large man-of-war that would carry my father away; big bundles and crates hoisted with ropes swung dangerously for outstretched arms. Sailors crawled like ants over the massive vessel, calling out orders and joining with the chorus of early morning fisherman arguing with the fish merchants.
The tide was in and the water lapped at the quays. As soon as it began to ebb, my father’s ship would be off. He had left us briefly to go and see about his berth and speak with the captain, and my mother and I waited patiently on the upper harbor wall for him to return and bid us adieu.
“Make sure your purse strings are hidden, Eliza,” my mother chided when she could see that I was gazing in awe at the activity in front of me down on the lower level of the quay. She sounded weary as always. Her skin was pale again this morning, and I had the notion she would be abed as soon as the noonday meal was done.
“Yes, Mama.”
I watched with rapt interest as a group of Indian tradesmen, their lower garments of animal skins, their upper bodies bare, haggled with a merchant over some fish and deerskin. I had never before seen a man’s body. Our Negroes always wore shirts. I knew men’s chests were like ours, just without breasts. But though I wasn’t close, I could see the lines of body and muscle beneath skin, like you could under the fur of a strong horse.
“Eliza!”
I whipped my face away, cheeks blazing hot. “Sorry, Mama. They look so savage is all. Didn’t anyone show them how to make shirts?” I laughed, then cleared my throat at my mother’s unimpressed, pursed mouth.
“The tide will soon turn. I must embark,” my father boomed as he headed toward us.
My mother was getting paler and paler as the heat of the day rose, her eyes tightening in discomfort. “Is it your head, Mama?” I asked, leading her with my father’s help a few steps toward the narrow slip of shade offered by a port wall.
She nodded.
“Let us say our farewells with haste.” My father looked toward me, and I answered him with a tight hug.
“Don’t worry, Father.” My voice caught. I inhaled a dose of heavy pungent harbor air and cleared my throat. Pulling away from his hug while I had the strength not to clutch him and beg him not to leave us, I blinked rapidly. “I will take care of Mama, Polly, and all your concerns,” I vowed, swallowing hard.
His eyes too were shimmering, and it almost broke my composure. “I know you will, Eliza. How did I get so lucky to have a capable daughter such as you?”
He drew his finger fondly down my cheek, his head cocked to one side. Then he nodded, satisfied at whatever he saw, and turned to my mother.
I spun away before my eyes spilled over, affording my parents some privacy.
The ship left on the tide with my father aboard.
After less than a day in town, I was anxious to return to our home on Wappoo Creek. I had neglected my studies and my music, and I missed the deep melodious hum of the slaves working in the fields, and the birds outside my windows at first light. The clatter of hooves and shouts of men in town was not a music I enjoyed.
And more than anything, I was eager to visit Andrew Deveaux that I might inquire after some indigo seeds with which to start experimenting. I would need to ask among our slaves if anyone had indigo knowledge and if not, send for someone from Garden Hill or Waccamaw.
My mission was clear and I was anxious to begin.
It hardly left me with a second to miss my departed father.
We set out the following morning in the pirogue. White topsails still dotted the harbor and horizon, but the large man-of-war was long gone. The salt wind blustered and bashed at our ears. Mama was as somber on the way home as she had been on our way to see my father off. Only this time she wasn’t mute.
“We probably have a year or so, then Papa will be back. Until then, we shall keep your activities in low profile. Perhaps visit Mrs. Pinckney in town more often, especially when her niece arrives.”
“I’ll accompany you when I can, Mama,” I said firmly. “But there is much to be done. Did you see how much timber is needed in the islands? You must have seen them loading the ships. The sugar plantations are in desperate need. I shall visit our other plantations and see about having some sent to Antigua.”
“Yes, dear.” My mother humored me.
“I think we can do to send double the amount. When I was up at Garden Hill with Papa—”
“Enough, Eliza. I don’t feel like discussing business. Just do what has been asked of you, and squash that ugly and unladylike ambitious streak you have immediately. What on earth was your father thinking?”
“Ambition is ugly and unladylike? Who would have thought you would speak so harshly of ambition. You seem to have more ambition for me and my marriage prospects than I for helping Papa.” My blood thundered in my ears to speak to my mother so. I swallowed hard but determinedly.
My mother’s eyes widened in surprise. “What has gotten into you, Eliza? And that is very different.”
“Is it, Mama?” I flicked my gaze away, then further turned my face and body to watch the marshy banks gliding by. Tension throbbed under the surface of my skin, and I marveled that God could have created my character in such opposition to my mother’s. It was almost comical. Except it was not.
“Finding a husband and presenting oneself in the best light to a prospective suitor is of the utmost importance. Far from ambition, I’m afraid it is more of a necessity.”
Coming around the turn in the wide creek, our home was a welcome sight. Not for me, I wanted to reply.
“In case you haven’t noticed, there are not a lot of eligible families in this hot, swampy, godforsaken part of the world,” she muttered.
I made out Quash in the distance awaiting our return at the small wooden dock. News of an arriving pirogue always traveled fast as the slave children kept a watchful eye on the water at all times. Up at the house, I could see the glimpse of pale fabric upon the veranda and guessed Esmé had deposited Polly outside with her sewing basket. The early afternoon breeze brought the smell of crabs and oysters, and some long-limbed birds gently loped through the marsh grass looking for stranded shrimp.
“Goodness,” Mama said suddenly as we got closer.
“What is it?” I asked
“I didn’t think. Stupid really. I just, I’ve never …”
“Mother,” I said, tired, “what is it?”
“Well, it’s just I usually have a gentleman’s assistance climbing out of the boat. Your papa …” She trailed off.
I furrowed my brow for a moment knowing full well we had ventured out on small journeys without Papa before. “You’ll be fine, Mama. It’s a small step up. I’ll help you.”
“I know.” She removed a small linen square from her purse and dabbed under her eyes. “I know. It’s a silly thing really. It’s always the smallest things that make one realize the magnitude of the loss.”
“We haven’t lost him, Mother.” I forced an encouraging smile.
“Oh it’s fine, Eliza. It just had not occurred to me.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “I shall simply add it to the long list of adjustments that shall have to be made now that he’s no longer here.”
It had perhaps never occurred to me how dependent my mother was upon my father. Love? I didn’t know. For certain, they were very fond of each other.
Just as Mama would be lonely without my father’s presence in the months to come, I would be too. More so, for I would have to work in relative solitude, not sharing my triumphs or frustrations of plantation business with a soul. It would be best if I didn’t discuss my plans much with my mama at all. She might have expired if she knew I’d asked Papa to send Ben over to South Carolina and certainly if she knew of the law books I’d pilfered from Mr. Pinckney’s library, which currently huddled guiltily in the cloth sack behind the bench where I sat.
“Of course, Mama. And I did so enjoy hearing about Mrs. Chardon and her parents. To think! She lives so close. We shall have to make a plan to visit with her next week. Perhaps Tuesday? I say we should make a standing day of it. It will give us something to look forward to each week.”
“How very thoughtful, Eliza.” Mama seemed satisfied at the change in direction. “And as she is widowed, she may be pleased for the company. Very well. I shall look forward to that.”
As soon as I had settled Mama and bidden a fond greeting to Polly, I went into my father’s study to acquaint myself with his papers. He had shown me his ledgers, and now I spent a few hours poring over the accounts, familiarizing myself with our production and outputs.
Then I penned two letters.
One to Mr. Deveaux and another to my father.