There was a knock on the cabin door. I craned my neck around to it and then back to Captain Morton.

  “Yes?” he drawled.

  “Sir, may I come in?” a girl’s piping voice called.

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “That’s young Dora, sir,” I told him. “She’s the youngest of Mrs. Harris’ two daughters. Eleven. Going to England to be finished.” The English were very grand in ‘finishing’ their girls — sending them to finishing school to ensure that they were properly trained in the duties of a wife and mother.

  “And?” he said, raising an eyebrow at me.

  “Sir?”

  “What say you of her character?”

  “She’s young, sir, and —” I broke off, remembering. “Sir, she traded something with the cook to get a striker and flint when her mother was sick.”

  “What?”

  “She didn’t say,” I told him. “I would like to find out,” I added. “She blushed when I asked her about it.”

  “Please find out, then,” Captain Morton told me. He turned his head to the door. “Enter.”

  Dora pushed open the door, her eyes seeking me out first. She caught sight of Captain Morton and curtsied. He rose. “Sir, I trust you are recovered?”

  “I am, Miss…?”

  “I beg your pardon, sir,” she said, curtsying again. “I am Dora Harris, the youngest of Thomas and Betsy Harris.” Her eyes cut to me. “Your slave was most kind to help us in our time of distress, sir. I wanted to thank her.”

  “Very well, I’m glad she was of service,” Captain Morton replied. I was surprised at his tone — it was markedly different from the way he spoke when we were alone. He cocked his head at the young girl in question.

  Dora blushed. “Sir, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve never had to — I mean, I —” she broke off.

  Another figure loomed up at the doorway, taller. It was Merribet, the eldest. She peered into the cabin. “What my sister is trying to say, Captain, is that we both feel that we owe your girl a debt of honor. We are wondering how to repay it.”

  “You feel a debt to a black girl?” Captain Morton drawled. He cut his eyes to me and I could see an unmistakable humor in them. Was he teasing these girls?

  “Yes sir,” Dora said, curtsying again. “Our mother… well, she is still recovering.”

  “And this debt, how would you repay it?” Captain Morton asked.

  “There is much she can teach us,” Merribet replied. “When I was indisposed, she managed to care for me and my mother in a manner… well, we were overwhelmed and unprepared.” She gave him an earnest look. “If it were possible to learn from her what she could teach —”

  “Are you playing chess?” Dora piped up, looking at the board. She turned to her sister. “Merribet, is that a chess board, like father’s?” She bounced on her heels and clapped her hands together in excitement, turning to me. “Can you play chess?”

  I looked to the captain for his reaction. Captain Morton looked back at me and then up to the girls. “It is as you see,” he told them. “Claire is quite competent, in fact.”

  “Oh? Could you teach me?” Dora pleaded.

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry but I —”

  “I think that would be an excellent idea,” Captain Morton interrupted. “I shall permit my girl here to attend you and teach you the intricacies of chess and housework. And in return…”

  “We have some cloth, we would be happy to supply her with clothes,” Merribet said.

  “She could eat at our table,” Dora added, looking up to her sister with big eyes. “Oh, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to talk with?”

  Merribet made a face, not quite sure how to reply. I could almost see her thinking — But she’s black! At the same time, however, I could see none of that thinking on her sister’s face.

  “Very well, I shall permit it,” Captain Morton said. “At what time would you desire her attendance?”

  “You’re busy now, sir,” Merribet acknowledged. “And we have to talk with mother.” She frowned. “Perhaps we can return later?”

  “Agreed,” Captain Morton said. “Until then.” He waved at them. They took the hint and closed the door, nodding in thanks to him. When their footsteps faded, he said to me. “Now, I believe it was your move.”

  I touched a piece and said, “Mate in three.”

  He frowned. “Show me.”

  #

  And so began the most marvelous three weeks in my life. I spent time with the Harris’, teaching them to clean and cook — after we managed to get Cookie into the greatest terror at our approach — and we made clothes. I taught them chess and Dora got to be quite good. Merribet found the game more challenging. Their mother, Mrs. Harris, thawed enough to thank me and hand me a small packet containing a few shillings at the end of our voyage. She also gave the captain permission to call on them when they were in residence. The captain solemnly promised to oblige if his duties permitted.

  There was another blow a week before we made landfall but by then everyone was accustomed to the sea and though Merribet was quite ill, none needed my nursing.

  Captain Morton grew daily in my estimation while, I like to think, I grew in his. We started working on codes. He was surprised at the number I knew. I introduced him to the secrets of invisible ink which he found to be quite delightful. He was invited on a number of evenings to dine at the captain’s table. I, of course, was not.

  He started beating me at chess, much to my delight and his surprise. In fact, the first time he beat me, he thought I was cheating. It took him two more wins before he, with a huge grin, finally accepted that he had reached my level.

  Chapter Three

  We reached the outskirts of London and the good ship Merrion docked. Captain Morton and Captain Tyler exchanged salutes as my captain departed. I gave Thompson a kind nod which he returned.

  And then we were off in a carriage to an inn close to the Admiralty. The rooms were comfortable, although, as a servant, the best I could expect was a piece of floor not too far from the fire. Captain Morton made himself presentable and then, to my surprise, offered me the use of his bath. I gratefully accepted, being glad for the chance of fresh — well, mostly — water that still had some heat.

  When I was dressed, he said to me, “I’ve just heard: we’re to see His Lordship tomorrow.”

  “His Lordship, sir?”

  “The First Lord of the Admiralty, the Duke of Bedford” Captain Morton explained. He gave me a wan smile. “My master and the one who will be questioning the contract I signed.”

  “What can I do, sir?” I asked.

  “What do you know of the current state of the government?” Captain Morton said.

  “I know as much as anyone from the colonies, sir,” I replied. “King Charles wears a troubled crown. He has maintained his popularity by lavish spending and careful movement within the government.”

  “Careful?”

  “He kept Mr. Pelham as his Prime Minister and pretty much kept the rest of the government appointments as before with the exception of Lord Murray,” I said. “This was seen as a sign of weakness by many. Pelham has not actively opposed the king, however.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Some say that Lord Pelham is biding his time and is secretly in touch with Hannover,” I replied. “Others say that the king is following the old saying: ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’”

  “Which do you think it is?”

  I shook my head. “It’s hard to say, sir. There are arguments for both. That Lord Pelham decided that his first loyalty is to England. Charles ingratiated himself with many by offering pardons to the powerful and declaring himself for religious tolerance. He also was very visibly moved at the death of King George and mourned openly with the townsfolk of London.”

  “A good political move,” Captain Morton said sourly.

  “From all that I’ve heard, sir, the king, even before he marched south from Edinburgh had earned the reputation of being a compassionate man,” I said. “It is one of his strengths.”

  “I’ve heard that sometimes it has caused him trouble,” the captain said.

  “I’ve heard that, too, sir,” I replied. “But… he’s still the king.”

  “There are some who wonder: for how much longer?”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied. I paused before saying, “Sir, if you would… I would like to go outside.”

  “Outside,” he said, his brows dropping thunderously. “Why?”

  “I want to get a feel for the city, if I might,” I told him. “I’m hoping to get a feel for the people, the mood.” I paused. “And, I’d like to see what I can learn, sir.”

  “About our mysterious lieutenant?”

  “Him or anyone else who might be of interest to their Lordships at the Admiralty.”

  “Hmm,” he thought, then waved his hand toward the door. “I’ll give you an hour —”

  “Two would be best, sir,” I told him.

  “With two hours you could be on a ship halfway around the world,” he snapped.

  My hand went to my neck and the necklace around it. I shook my head. “No, sir. I won’t do that.”

  “What are you clutching?” he demanded, springing from his chair. “And why won’t you?”

  “I told you, sir, there are spies about,” I said. “Spies that will report back to Master Evans. If I were to run, he’d know.”

  “What would it matter to you?” he asked. Then his expression brightened. “There are others. Your mother?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say, sir,” I told him. “But, sir, you have my word. Two hours and I’ll be back.”

  He was silent for a long moment, thinking. Finally, he nodded. “Very well. Two hours. If you’re not back by then, I’ll post a bond for your return.”

  “Two hours, sir,” I told him.

  “I’ll be downstairs in the lounge,” he said. He gave me a quick smile. “I, too, will see what I can learn.”

  “Very good, sir.” And with that, I went to the door. I turned the handle and then looked back at him, saying earnestly, “Two hours.”

  “Not a minute more,” he growled.

  I nodded, opened the door and made my way down the stairs. I found the back rooms and went out through the servant’s door so as not to cause any trouble.

  #

  Outside, in the night air, I took a deep breath. And gagged. London smells and not pleasantly. I had never smelled so much sewage, waste, and foulness in all my days. I had grown up on a farm. I knew the smells of manure, both horse and cow. I knew the scents of corruption, of rotting grass, of wetted wheat.

  Not only was the air foul, it was thick, too. A fog was coming in from the river Thames. Or perhaps it had never left.

  I turned left and right, scanning my way and then I set off to see what the night had for me. The first thing, apparently, was a discarded broadsheet. I picked it up and turned toward the light.

  The words were alarming. Kill The Tyrant! Death To Charles! In smaller type, I read: The Bloody Prince Charlie is a murderer. He killed his own father so great is his lust for power. The Catholic king will betray us all unless we betray him first!

  I was stunned. It took me a moment to recover from my shock.

  It was not a moment I had.

  Huge hands grabbed my neck and tugged me into the shadows. “Wot have we got here? A darkie?” The man pulled the paper from my hand. “And a traitor!” He turned to his mates. “Ah, we’ll have fun with this one before we stretch her neck!” The men behind him roared with laughter.

  “Please suh!” I cried in my best accent. “Please! I was only looking at the picture, suh! I can’t read, suh!” I twisted my head up to look at him. He was ugly. A big brute of a man disfigured by the pox and a hard life. “What does it say, suh? I thought my master might want it, ‘cuz of the pictures, you see.”

  “Slave, are you?” the man demanded. “And why are you out here on your own at this hour?” He leered down at me, his foul breath causing my stomach to revolt. “Trying to run away?”

  “No, suh!” I cried, thinking desperately. “I was looking for something to please my master, suh! That’s the truth, suh!”

  “Yeah? So your master must be looking for you, right?” Foul Breath said.

  If he brought me back to the inn, Captain Morton would be obliged to claim me and be expected to pay a reward. As I knew that the captain was poor, this would not be doing him a service, nor would it speak well of my abilities.

  I pointed across the street. To the Admiralty building. “I work there, suh. I’m one of the girls that cleans, suh.”

  The lout turned his head toward away. That was all I needed. I raised my foot and kicked him where men least like kicks. He dropped his grip and folded down to the ground. Before anyone could move, I was gone. I sprinted away, turned a corner, sprinted again, turned another corner and ran for all my death.

  I knew I’d lost them. But I also knew if they ever found me again, I’d get a beating I might not survive. I also knew that I couldn’t go back. They’d be watching. How would I get back before my two hours were up?

  I stood there, in the shadows, my lungs rasping in the foul air. Finally I looked up. I looked up and smiled. Of course!

  That problem solved, I turned one way and another, listening. There was a loud shout of triumph from down the street. Had the brute found me? I strained to see. My eyes settled on a well-lit building. There was a sign outside. People were going in and out. I turned toward it and made my way down the street.

  #

  The sounds of cheer and loud shouting filled the street by the time I got to the outside of the building. It was a coffee house, I could tell by the smell. I’d heard about them. They were great places to learn, to trade gossip, to trade in every way.

  But how could I get in? I was dressed as a serving girl and the color of my skin worked against me. I turned away from the lights and walked down the street, looking for a back entrance. There was none.

  They had to get their supplies somehow, I thought. I looked around some more. Finally I realized that the supplies must come up from a cellar. One block down I saw a large door. It was locked. A loading door. Carts would come through during the day, unload their wares and leave.

  Of course, a place with wares would attract a certain type of people. So, logically, the entrance would have to be guarded. I looked in the gloam. It took me a while to notice two gleams reflecting back towards me.

  “Excuse me, sir, could you help me?” I said moving forward. The gleams looked up and moved toward me. A figure emerged in the dim light. A black man, dressed simply. The guard.

  “You’re not from here,” the man said. “You… where you from, girl?”

  “Carolina,” I said. “I’m here on contract.”

  “And what you doin’ out this late at night?” the man said. “You’re not a runner are you?”

  “No,” I said. “I got lost. I went out to find some things for my master and some bad men caught me. I managed to get away but… I got lost.”

  “Hmm,” he said. “Where do you need to be, then?”

  “You see, I think my master may be in that coffee house, sir,” I told him. “But I don’t think he’s looking for coffee. I’m afraid if I don’t find him, he’ll never make it back to the inn.”

  “What’s his name?” the guard asked.

  “Captain Willoughby Rice Morton,” I said. “Royal Irish.” I added brightly, “I’m Claire, suh.”

  “Mackey,” the man replied. “And your captain is in our coffee house?”

  I shook my head. “I think so but I’m not sure. He might be somewhere else, suh.”

  “And what do you want me to do about it?”

  “Well, suh, I can’t go in on my own through the front door —”

  He snorted and shook his head. “No, you can’t!”

  “But maybe, if you’d let me come through the back way —”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “If I don’t get him back safe, suh, I’ll go to his brother,” I said, dropping my eyes. “And his brother… well, suh, none of his people last long.”

  “You think I care?” Mackey said. “You think I care about a scrawny little black girl?”

  I started sniffling. “Please, suh, please! I jus’ wanna look inside!” I could tell it wasn’t going to work. I thought quickly, trying to come up with another plan. A shout from the top of the street alarmed me. I looked up.

  “There she is! I’ll split that little bit from top to bottom when I get her!” A voice boomed.

  “Oh, no! It’s those men!” I cried. I turned to run away. But Mackey’s hand caught me by the collar. I turned my head to him. “Please, sir! Please!”

  His grip tightened and he dragged me back toward the double doors. He pulled a key from his waistband and unlocked it quickly. Before I could react, he threw me through the open door, shut it and locked it. “You go out the front, girl.”

  “What about you?”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Mackey said. “I jus’ love beating up on people. This’ll be fun.”

  “Won’t you get in trouble?”

  “Not if I do my job right, I won’t,” Mackey replied. “I’m paid to stop people breaking in.”

  “Thank you!” I said.

  “Git! I can’t have them hear you,” he said through the door.

  I moved off. It was quickly too dark to see in the empty loading area. I put my hands out in front of me and listened to my footsteps. It wasn’t as dark as it got some nights back home. But I knew my way around back home, this was all new to me. I bumped into something and stopped. I raised my hand and felt above me. There was air. I was probably at the end of the loading bay. I felt around with both my hands and hoisted myself up, struggling to climb over the top. I crawled forward a bit more and then, cautiously, stood. I could hear noise in front of me. Cheers, shouts. The coffee house. A moment later, I could see some light peering through a crack. A door.

 

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