Antebellum BK 1 (58 page)

“
The Marine
took us to Norfolk where we transferred to
The Empire City
for the trip home,” Anna concluded.

Quincy shook his head. “What a terrifying experience.”

Nancy looked at Anna. “Oddly enough, I was never really frightened until we were in the lifeboats. Were you?”

Anna shrugged. “I was so sure that we were going to drown that I gave up hope. When you have no hope you’re not frightened.”

“
In addition to the four hundred lives lost, two million dollars worth of gold went down with
The Central America
,” Robert said. “The impact on Wall Street has been very bad.”

“
Why would it impact Wall Street?” Anna asked. “Up until a couple of months ago, that gold was part of some nondescript rocks in California. It wasn’t real money.”

“
It became real money when it was insured,” Robert replied. “The concern is that the loss will bankrupt the insurers.”

“
Who cares?” Nancy said. “I’m just glad to be alive and home.”

January 25, 1858

St. James’s Palace, London, England

I
n step with the strains of Felix Mendelssohn’s
Wedding March
, Queen Victoria’s daughter, Victoria, the Princess Royal, better known as “Vicky”, glided up the aisle on the arm of her new husband, Prince Friedrich of Prussia. As she passed the bowing and curtseying aristocrats in the front pews, her eyes met briefly with those of William de Iturbide, Duke de Padilla.

Eight years ago, William de Iturbide, Duke de Padilla, had been William Van Buskirk, or, on wanted posters, Lucky Billy Van.

Using the name William de Iturbide, William had traveled to Zurich where he converted his gold to various currencies and established banking relationships in Spain, France and England. At his next stop, in Spain, William presented expensively forged documents to prove his ancestry to Agustin de Iturbide, who had held the title Constitutional Emperor of Mexico, as Agustin I, from May 1822 to March 1823. William’s command of Spanish, his regal manner and his knowledge of Spanish-Mexican history served him well, and he was soon granted the meaningless style of William de Iturbide, Duke de Padilla. From Spain, he then traveled to England where he bought a decrepit castle near Nottingham and eight hundred acres of fallow or forested land.

Although the restoration of the castle was completed last year, and all arable land was under cultivation by tenant farmers, William had been generally ignored by English peers. Until now.

May 19, 1858

Bleeding Kansas

I
n what may have been the last major violence in Bleeding Kansas, thirty men, led by proslavery leader Charles Hamilton, captured eleven unarmed free-state men and murdered five in what was to become known as the Marais des Cygnes Massacre. The event inspired a poem by John Greenleaf Whittier:

A BLUSH as of roses

Where rose never grew!

Great drops on the bunch-grass,

But not of the dew!

A taint in the sweet air

For wild bees to shun!

A stain that shall never

Bleach out in the sun.

Back, steed of the prairies

Sweet song-bird, fly back!

Wheel hither, bald vulture!

Gray wolf, call thy pack!

The foul human vultures

Have feasted and fled;

The wolves of the Border

Have crept from the dead.

From the hearths of their cabins,

The fields of their corn,

Unwarned and unweaponed,

The victims were torn,--

By the whirlwind of murder

Swooped up and swept on

To the low, reedy fen-lands,

The Marsh of the Swan.

With a vain plea for mercy

No stout knee was crooked;

In the mouths of the rifles

Right manly they looked.

How paled the May sunshine,

O Marais du Cygne!

On death for the strong life,

On red grass for green!

In the homes of their rearing,

Yet warm with their lives,

Ye wait the dead only,

Poor children and wives!

Put out the red forge-fire,

The smith shall not come;

Unyoke the brown oxen,

The ploughman lies dumb.

Wind slow from the Swan's Marsh,

O dreary death-train,

With pressed lips as bloodless

As lips of the slain!

Kiss down the young eyelids,

Smooth down the gray hairs;

Let tears quench the curses

That burn through your prayers.

Strong man of the prairies,

Mourn bitter and wild!

Wail, desolate woman!

Weep, fatherless child!

But the grain of God springs up

From ashes beneath,

And the crown of his harvest

Is life out of death.

Not in vain on the dial

The shade moves along,

To point the great contrasts

Of right and of wrong:

Free homes and free altars,

Free prairie and flood,--

The reeds of the Swan's Marsh,

Whose bloom is of blood!

On the lintels of Kansas

That blood shall not dry;

Henceforth the Bad Angel

Shall harmless go by;

Henceforth to the sunset,

Unchecked on her way,

Shall Liberty follow

The march of the day.

December
24, 1858

New York, New York

N
ancy stopped at the corner of Sixth Avenue and 13
^th
Street and pointed at the store window. “Look at this.”

Anna stepped up beside her and gaped at the moving display of children playing under a gaslight-adorned Christmas tree. “Beautiful. How do they make those figures move?”

“
It might use clockworks or there could be a steam engine in the basement since there are so many moving parts,” Nancy replied.

Anna stepped back to look at the name on the building. “R.H. Macy Dry Goods? Isn’t this a bit too far north for a dry goods store?”

“
Macy’s isn’t an ordinary dry goods store,” Nancy replied.

“
What’s so different about it?”

“
Well, for one thing they offer a money back guarantee. If you’re not satisfied with the merchandise you just bring it back and they give you the full price you paid.”

“
What do you care? You never even look at the prices when you buy something,” Anna said.

“
I don’t care, but when I heard about it I wondered if he could stay in business refunding people’s money.”

“
How long has he been in business?”

“
Not very long here, but I think he has other stores. Maybe Boston. I’m not sure.”

“
It seems to me that he’ll only attract customers who’ll be prone to demand their money back.”