The Promise Read online

  His face was ashen from too little food and nearly blue in the cold, but Caleb finally confessed, “It is too painful. I made her cry. She was in her bed, and in the night, I wanted to be with her, so I climbed up. But when she saw me, she cried. It is the only memory I have of her.”

  “Oh, Caleb, it was not you who made her cry. She cried over the death of her husband.”

  “Our father died first? Wasn’t our father with us at the cemetery?”

  “No, Father had already passed. The man you remember claimed to be our brother.”

  Caleb's shock was complete, “We have a brother?”

  “He is not our brother. I'd never laid eyes on him until the day our Mother was interred. And Caleb, I cannot bear to let you think our parents were servants. They were not. Father owned the house I took you to in Shrewsbury.” He waited to let his words sink in. “The man claimed to be our brother to take our inheritance.”

  “Is this what has angered you all these years?”

  “Are you not angry?”

  “I believe I am. Did you ever confront him?”

  Even with gloves on, Uriah’s hands were like ice so he shoved them deeper into his pockets. “I did. I went to collect the fee for your finishing, but when I arrived, there were no servants and the house smelled. It was dark, dreary, and not at all like I remembered. A woman and her unkempt son led the way up the stone stairs and when she opened the door, Sir William lay in his bed dumbfounded. An injury to his head, the woman explained.”

  “Good.”

  Uriah smiled, “I said the same. No doubt the inheritance has long since been squandered. I find great amusement in the knowledge that he lay only a few yards from a fortune in jewels and never knew it.”

  ELIZABETH WAS ASLEEP. For days, she'd slipped between fitful fever and harsh chills, but for now, she slept. Mary gently tucked the blankets around her sister, and then checked her sleeping child. John's forehead felt normal. She sat down next to Caroline on Uriah's cot and wrapped up in a quilt. “You married him in England then?”

  Caroline Grayson answered, “No, we married in Boston. I wished to remain there forever, but LeRoy insisted we reside with his mother in London. Once in London, I missed my parents so very much, all I could do was cry. So my husband agreed to take me home. We were to board a more suitable ship, but when we reached Bristol, we boarded this one instead.” A shudder raced through Caroline's body. “I hate the cold, Mary Carson. I hate it very much!”

  “I've come to hate most everything. Why did you not board the other ship?”

  “I do not know and I protested greatly, but LeRoy said a wife was never to question her husband's decisions. Still, my dowry should have been more than enough to secure better advantages.” Caroline leaned forward and peeked down the passageway. It was empty. “While he slept, I inspected his pockets. They were completely empty.”

  “Perhaps in the trunks.”

  “Void of funds as well. Before we were wed, he boasted of great wealth. But it seems his wealth was of a fleeting kind.”

  Mary tried hard not to smile. “I see.”

  “I think I might have loved him...someday.”

  “You did not love him when you married?”

  Caroline shrugged, “I found him tolerable, I suppose.”

  “But you did wish to marry him?”

  “I thought I did. Too soon, I realized I hardly liked the man. In fact, he was incredibly boring.”

  Mary giggled.

  Caroline began to smile. “Come to think of it, I hated him. We did not have one happy conversation the entire time. And that house in London, I tell you, was even less attractive than his mother's disposition. She has a very long nose and she keeps it in her son's business. You do not think ill of me, do you? I tried to love him, truly I did.”

  “I could never think ill of you.”

  “I've been wondering,” Caroline went on, a twinkle in her eye, “does your husband have another brother?”

  Again Mary giggled, “Not that I am aware of.”

  “Pity.” Caroline became intense, “Mary, you'll not mention my delight over LeRoy's death to my parents, will you? I married against my father's advice.”

  “Your secret is quite safe with me. Quite safe indeed.”

  TWO DAYS AFTER THE death of LeRoy Grayson, three more men died. The air had become brisk when Uriah led Mary toward the forecastle wall. He seated her on a crate, sat down beside her, and cradled John in his lap. The boy was even more sluggish than before and lay hard against his father's chest with his eyes wide open. Uriah's head had begun to pound. He leaned it against the wall, watched thin white clouds and listened to the sails flapping in the wind. With no food, the crew had stopped singing. Mary nodded off and slumped against his shoulder.

  “Mary?” When she failed to answer, he turned just enough to lift her chin and look into her eyes. He waited until she focused on him. “Do not die, Mary, there is much I have not yet said.” Gently, he leaned his head against hers. “Did you hear me, Mary?”

  “I heard.”

  Again, he glanced upward. The clouds were becoming darker. An hour later, he took his family down, strapped them to their beds and put Caroline Grayson in his lower bunk.

  The pitch of the ship steadily grew harsh. Bound to her upper bed, Mary began to recite the Bible words she loved most:

  “Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn...”

  Raising the flickering candle high, Uriah looked beyond his wife to his son. John's eyes seemed fixed and lifeless. Uriah held his breath and watched until finally, John blinked. Relieved, he eased himself to the floor. With the last of the leather straps, he bound himself to the center pole and waited.

  The storm lasted well into the night and when it was over, Uriah untied himself, blew out the candle and fell asleep on the cold, damp floor. When he awoke, the hour was nearly noon. Painfully, he lifted himself up. He watched each member of his family until he could clearly see them breathe, and then followed the scant light through the passage way and up the stairs. He forced himself to start his morning stroll around the deck.

  “You walk alone this morning, Mister Carson?” Captain MacPherson asked. He was a stout man, with graying hair and a pleasant smile – too pleasant.

  “Aye,” Uriah mumbled. Already worn out, he walked to a familiar box and sat down. A good wind blew against the sails, and The Benison Felicity was picking up speed.

  “My wife died on a voyage such as this,” the Captain tried again.

  Uriah's eyes had turned cold when he looked up at the Captain. “Is that why you think to kill mine?”

  MacPherson started to say something, thought better of it and walked away.

  Nearly two hours passed before Uriah struggled to his feet again. Slowly, he made his way through the casks until he neared the first mate. His voice was strained when he asked, “How far?”

  Masters stood alone near the starboard rail, his hat in his hand. “No way to know. The backstaff is broken and the clouds hide the stars.”

  Even the railing had become cold. Uriah studied the waves and the distant horizon, then closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall forward. At length, he lifted it back up and focused on a small stretch of clear, blue sky. “Why do you make us suffer? If you are truly there ... as Mary believes, can you not save us?”

  As soon as he had spoken, he caught a glimpse of a tiny dot gliding just under the steel gray clouds. Too soon, it disappeared. He shook the weariness from his head and rubbed the back of his neck. Then, a gust of wind hit the side of the ship and forced the air upward. Uriah's eyes shifted. He closed his mouth and drew air through his nose. “A forest?”

  “LAND AHOY!”

  Uriah spun around to search the first mate's face. But Masters had his head bent back with his gaze held upward to the man in the crow's nest.

  “ARE YOU SURE, LAD?” the Captain shouted.

  The sixteen-year old ordinary seaman kept
his eyes glued on something in the distance. “AYE CAPTAIN. I CAN BARELY MAKE IT OUT, BUT...‘TIS LAND.”

  Afraid to get his hopes up, Uriah went back to the box and sat down. A moment later, a hand touched his shoulder. When he looked, Mary stood behind him holding John in her arms. Her expression was hopeful and she watched the horizon. He lavished in her touch for a moment, and then took the boy out of her arms.

  “IS THE LAND STILL IN SIGHT, MISTER COLLINS?” the Captain shouted.

  “AYE, CAPTAIN. ‘TIS OFF THE BOW, SIR. ‘TIS OFF THE BOW.”

  Two able seamen climbed the masts until each balanced perilously on the yard above the main sail. “HE’S RIGHT,” the first yelled.

  “I SEE IT TOO!” the second one shouted.

  Mary took a long, forgotten breath, “Thank God, we will not die.” Then she pulled her hand away and started up the steps to the bow. Her unkempt hair blew in the breeze and her coat was not warm enough, but she didn't seem to mind. Nor did she notice when Uriah drew near with the boy in his arms. Her eyes caught the brilliance of the sun peaking through the clouds and her cheeks filled with renewed color. She watched intently, carefully scanning the horizon. Slowly, she lifted her finger and pointed. Her voice rose with excitement, “There, I see it!”

  “I see it too,” Uriah said.

  He'd not sung the Gaelic song since their departure from England and he felt himself nearly too weak to sing it now. Still, First Mate Masters mustered his strength, drew in breath and began.

  In the small room beneath the deck, Caleb gently shook his wife's arm. “Elizabeth? Can you hear the song? Master's promised to sing it when he sees land. He sings, Elizabeth. He sings!”

  She opened her eyes for a brief moment, and then fell back asleep.

  IN THE CROW’S NEST, Collins lifted his hat and scratched his head. “It cannot be.” Steadily becoming more prominent, a majestic lighthouse appeared in the distance. He put his hat back on and squinted. Soon, his eyes widened. Little more than a black dot at first, the object at the foot of the lighthouse became a canon. “It is Boston!”

  As the ship sailed toward shore, more rays of sunlight broke through the dark clouds, bathing the distant hillsides in autumn’s gold, yellow and red. The wind seemed warmer, the waves were beginning to calm, and The Benison Felicity glided as though on silk.

  Mary pointed at something – far off on the water's surface. A two-masted schooner grew larger and they could see a man standing in the middle of the deck, shouting and waving wildly. Mary frowned. “What do you suppose is the matter?”

  Uriah didn't answer. Instead he watched as the ship grew larger – and larger, and then glided right past them. “Con...found it!” he heard the man shout.

  Matthew Henderson was a stout man, with broad shoulders and a round belly. He ripped his three cornered hat off his head and slammed it down. “Bring her around boys. We'll have another go at it!”

  “Aye, Matthew,” all six of his men shouted at the same time.

  Matthew whisked his hat up before the wind caught it. “Bloody braggart, he sails at top speed. Does he intend to land his ship or wreck it?” In a wide semicircle, the schooner sailed around the larger ship, increased its speed and pulled along side. Matthew cupped his hands and yelled, “AHOY.”

  Captain MacPherson only stared at him.

  Uriah helped Mary down the steps and walked her down the starboard side until they stood not far from the Captain. Uriah studied the Captain, and committing his appearance to memory including the man‘s silver wedding band.

  On the schooner, Matthew Henderson tried again, “I said AHOY! Furl your sails, man, furl your sails!”

  Still, the Captain said nothing. At last, Masters nodded for the men to furl the sails and the sailors complied.

  “Have you a Caroline Henderson...I mean Grayson aboard?”

  Masters didn’t wait for the Captain to answer before he shouted, “We do. Have you any food, Sir?”

  Abruptly, the men in the schooner threw up their arms and shouted for joy. Matthew Henderson nearly fell as he made his way through the schooner's rigging to the side rail.

  As soon as both ships slowed, Masters ordered the ships tied together and tossed the ladder rope down to the schooner. In less than half a minute, three men boarded. They lowered hook ropes and began hoisting up large, black, crockery pots.

  A man of serious roundness, Caroline's father slowly made his way up the rope ladder. Twice, Matthew paused to catch his breath, and when he reached the top, he struggled to hoist himself topside. Accustomed to helping him, two of his strong sailors grabbed an arm and soon, Matthew Henderson was aboard and fully balanced. The men quickly returned to their duties.

  He straightened his jacket, but instead of approaching the Captain, he walked straight to Masters. “Matthew Henderson, Physician, Scrivener, and Convey­ancer at your service, Sir.” With heels close together and toes pointed out, he bowed extravagantly, swinging his hat wide. When he bent, his snug breeches threatened to tear, and his royal blue jacket tightened across his stomach, leaving gaps between the buttons. Hat indentations marked the sides of his light brown hair, but his color-filled face glistened when he smiled.

  Mary could not wait, “Mister Henderson, what is in the pots?”

  “Oh, my dear, allow me to apologize. I've brought Mrs. Henderson's finest broth. It's a bit chilled, I am afraid, seeing as how reach­ing you took some doing. You are quite late, you see, and...”

  Uriah hadn't heard a word past “broth.” Instead, he seated Mary on the box and put John in her lap. When he reached the food, Matthew's sailor had already filled a bowl and lifted the lid off another pot. Inside lay fresh, round loaves of bread. Uriah reached in and started to break off half.

  “Take it all,” the man urged, “we've plenty.”

  Uriah quickly grabbed the loaf, took the broth and headed back to his wife and son. When he reached her, he knelt down, “Can you hold John steady?”

  Mary moved the boy until he sat upright, then watched as Uriah filled the spoon and guided it into John's mouth. Again and again, John swallowed. When Uriah looked up, tears were streaming down Mary's face.

  Matthew Henderson had not stopped talking. “Well, go and fetch her, man!” he demanded, his face only an inch from the Captain's. “If you've so much as laid a hand on my daughter, I'll see you hanged.”

  MacPherson looked frightened when he turned toward the hold. “I wasn't aware she was your daughter.”

  Before MacPherson could reach the steps, one of Matthew's sailors was already helping Caroline up. Her once splendid London frock was now soiled and torn. Her skin was pale and her brown eyes looked even larger in hollow sockets. Yet, when she saw her father, she ran to him.

  “Papa? Oh, Papa!” She was so small and he was so big, Caroline nearly got lost in his embrace. Even so, she managed to peek at Mary over his shoulder. Then she bit her lip hard and forced a tear to come to her eye. “Papa, LeRoy died of the fever.”

  As soon as John could eat no more, Uriah refilled the bowl for Mary. He stuffed a chunk of bread in his own mouth, got a second bowl and headed below. When he arrived, Caleb was already feeding Elizabeth, and with each bite, Elizabeth opened her eyes a little wider.

  “The fever broke.” Caleb reported. Then he turned a curious eye on his brother. “Tell me this is not a dream.”

  “It is not a dream.” Uriah brought the bowl of broth to his mouth. He swallowed repeatedly until the bowl was empty. “It is Caroline's father.”

  “I do believe I love Caroline's father.” Caleb greedily bit into his bread.

  HIS STOMACH WAS FINALLY full and never had he needed sleep more, but Uriah would not rest. He stood in the bow of the ship and watched as they sailed into Boston's Colonial bay. Two tall ships heading for England sailed past. Smaller crafts, in numbers too large to count, crossed the inner harbor, and the blades of three waterfront wind­mills turned lazily in the receding wind as the clouds slowly departed. At sunset, the seamen stee
red the ship toward the end of the one-half mile long dock. Doz­ens of steve­dores swarmed around various transports, while others used long poles to turn The Benison Felicity parallel. Next, they began the tedious task of pulling on her ropes until the ship lay flush against the dock.

  At the end of the wooden dock lay Faneuil Hall, surrounded by church steeples and dozens of other buildings. In front of the Hall, two seemingly endless columns of Redcoats marched through the city's marketplace.

  For hours, Matthew Henderson had shouted orders, aided the sick and saw to the filling of every stomach on the ship – even the Captain's. Now there was nothing left to do but wait. Taking up a position next to Uriah in the bow, he clasped his enormous hands behind his back and impatiently rocked from heel to toe. “I'll see the man hangs for this. He nearly killed the lot of you. Another week, and...”

  “An easy death, do you mean?”

  Matthew caught the sarcastic inflection in Uriah's voice. “Well put, my boy, well put. Perhaps a flogging, then?”

  “Perhaps the sinking of his ship.”

  Thoughtfully, Matthew stroked his beard. “Yes, but not in Boston Harbor. We've a devil of a time when they sink in the harbor.”

  “I'd not like seeing Mister Masters harmed. Without him, we would have perished.”

  “Agreed. Tell me, Mister Carson, have you a place to go?”

  “Not precisely.”

  “You do now. My Caroline refuses to leave without you. And well, her mother won't let me back in the house without Caroline. Could you stay with us a while? We've ample room and I've not the luxury of allowing you to refuse.”

  “Well...”

  “My dear boy, simply say yes. I offer a warm bath, all you can eat, and a clean bed.”

  Uriah smiled, “Yes.”

  PART II

  CHAPTER 6

  AMERICA

  The seamen were slow to finish shoring the ship to its mooring. The sun was down and Matthew Henderson's fury had steadily increased. With flailing arms, he spewed hot breath into the cold air, “How dare you tarry, Captain! Be about it man! Drop the walk way! I'll see you pay handsomely for this. Handsomely, do you hear? I'll not have my daughter aboard a moment longer!”