Freedom Bound (17 page)

WAS THERE A WAR
going on, or not?

Nathanael Greene's army had its heavy guns pointing at
the Charleston Peninsula from both sides, but not a shot was
fired. Charlotte suspected that the so-called Fighting Quaker
didn't really like fighting, or at least did not like unnecessary
bloodshed. Maybe he had not abandoned every principle of
his religion. For the present, he seemed content to sit and
wait.

But while Charleston remained free from attack, there
was plenty of backcountry fighting. Skirmishes and raids
continued throughout the months of waiting for the ship
that would bring Parliament's decision. Nick reported that
the Black Dragoons had been in several minor battles.
Phoebe had not seen Jammy for months, but never lost faith
that he would be back.

In February 1782, the news arrived from London. It was
exactly what Nick had foretold. Parliament responded to
Cornwallis' surrender by voting to halt all military operations in the New World. Peace negotiations were underway.
The United States of America was about to be born.

At last it's over, Charlotte thought. The news made her
neither happy nor sad. On the evening of the day that Parliament's decision arrived, Charlotte would have liked to go
for a walk with Nick, but with so many desperate, homeless
people everywhere, the streets were unsafe after dark. And
so Charlotte and Nick sat in the front room, warmed by a
small fire. They held hands but talked little.

Charlotte's heart held more than words could express. She
had lost her brothers, her mother, and her home because of
the war. This had been the price of loyalty to King George.
And it had all been in vain.

Nick also had suffered loss. At the beginning of the war
he, like his father, had supported the revolution. But when
the violence of the Sons of Liberty caused Nick to change
sides, old Mr. Schyler, a Patriot to the core, called him a
turncoat and threw him out.

We've both been hurt, Charlotte thought, but the end of
the war somehow sets us free. Her fingers tightened around
Nick's hand. At odds with her serious mood was a sense of
starting out on a new adventure.

She turned to Nick. “Do you think we'll be back on Carleton Island by summer?”

He shook his head.

One evening in March, Nick brought home a copy of the
Royal Gazette
and spread it on the kitchen table for Charlotte
and Phoebe to read. Only they and Noah were at home, for
Mrs. Doughty had taken her children to a Quaker gathering.
Recently, she seemed to spend a lot of time at meetings of the
Friends.

“Remember that list of names the rebels were making?”
said Nick.

“The list of people who'll be banished and have their
property seized?”

“That's right. Here it is. The
Royal Gazette
obtained a copy.”

“Six classes of persons,” Charlotte read. “Class One: British
subjects who never submitted to the American Government.
Oh, look! There's a John Braemar near the top of the list. Is
that Captain Braemar's father?”

“It is. He escaped with his fortune just in time. Others
weren't so lucky.”

She read on silently, then exclaimed, “Look at this, Nick.
‘Class Five: anyone holding a civil or military position during the British occupation of Charleston.'” She laughed.
“That's you. They're going to seize your property.”

“They would if I had any.”

“Here's Class Six: ‘Obnoxious persons.' I wonder what
makes a person obnoxious?”

“Owning property that somebody with influence wants
to get his hands on.”

Charlotte shook her head. “This would be funny if it
weren't so mean.”

“Four hundred and twenty-five families are on that list. If
you hadn't rescued me, there'd be a hundred more, because
no one staked out on a hill of fire ants remains silent for
long.”

Nick folded the newspaper. “There's one more piece of
news I must tell you. Lewis Morley's out of prison. He was
released today in an exchange of prisoners of war.”

Phoebe's head jerked up. “Mr. Morley's free!” She looked
anxiously toward the door, as if she expected her former
master to come barging through.

“Where is he now?” Charlotte asked Nick.

“He's gone up the Cooper River to Fair Meadow, where
his wife and children have been staying with Mrs. Morley's
sister. He'll bring his family back to Charleston as soon as
his agent has reclaimed his house.”

“The house where you and I could have had a room!”
Charlotte shrugged. “Easy come, easy go.”

“My fellow workers are scrambling about, trying to find
places to live, though they won't need them for long. The
British Commander at Charleston, General Leslie, is expecting orders to evacuate the city. England will send a fleet to
carry all of us away.”

“All of us? Everybody?”

“All the British and Loyalist soldiers who happen to be in
South Carolina when the fighting ends, as well as more than
four thousand white Loyalists and six thousand former
slaves.”

“So the rebels won't be getting back their slaves,” said
Charlotte.

“That's right. In the peace negotiations, England refused
to back down on that issue. Any holder of a General Birch
certificate is excluded from the agreement to return property
seized from rebels. But we can't call them rebels any longer.
They're Americans.”

“Americans. Well, I reckon we'll have to get used to that.”

Phoebe spoke up. “What will happen to the Black Dragoons.”

“They'll be disbanded and evacuated by ship.”

“Even Jammy?”

“Jammy has no choice. When the Americans take over,
they'll hang every Black Dragoon they can catch. Not one
runaway slave who fought on the British side will be spared.”

Phoebe flinched. “Where will the ships take the Black
Dragoons?”

“To Nova Scotia.”

“What about you and Miss Charlotte?”

“We'll take ship to Nova Scotia, too. But then we'll continue on to the Upper Country, to Carleton Island.”

Phoebe bit her lower lip. “I'm going to miss you. You're
the best friends I've ever had.”

Before she could say more, the front door opened. Patience, Charity and Joseph ran into the house, followed by
Mrs. Doughty.

“How was the meeting?” Charlotte asked. “You've been
away for two hours. That's a long time for the little ones.”

“Not too long,” said Mrs. Doughty.

“It was
very
long,” Patience insisted. “But afterwards,
Friend Levi's mother gave us raisin cake.”

“Oh,” said Charlotte. “How delicious!”

“I had three pieces,” Joseph said, “and then Friend Levi
carried me piggyback all the way home.”

Mrs. Doughty sat down at the table. Charlotte noticed
that her face was flushed.

“We've been talking about the evacuation of Charleston,”
said Nick. “In the fall, Charlotte and I will take ship for
Halifax. So you won't have such a crowd in your home.”

Phoebe burst in. “Noah and I will stay . . . if you want us.
I can help with laundry and housework. I can mind the little ones while you go to meetings.”

“Phoebe, thee and Noah will have a home with me as long
as thee wishes. But it will not be here in Stoll's Alley.”

“Mrs. Doughty,” said Charlotte, “what do you mean? Have
you decided to move to Meeting Street to live among the
Friends?”

Under the deep brim of her bonnet, Mrs. Doughty's
cheeks turned redder than ever. Charlotte guessed what she
was about to say before the words left her mouth.

“Friend Levi has asked me to be his wife.”

AFTER THAT DAY
, Mrs. Doughty never worked as a washerwoman again.

The wedding would not take place until after Charlotte
and Nick had left for Nova Scotia. That time was clearly
coming soon. In July the British fleet evacuated Savannah.
On August 12, 1782, the
Royal Gazette
announced that
Charleston would be next.

It happened in October. Phoebe and Charlotte were cooking
supper when Nick strolled into the kitchen.

“We leave tonight,” he said, and he patted the leather pouch
he wore on his belt. “My orders are here.”

Charlotte looked up from the pile of oysters she and
Phoebe were shucking.

“Tonight!”

So the time had come at last. The excitement that had
been building up in her under a pretence of calm suddenly
flared into panic.

“Nick, I can't get ready that fast!”

“Yes, you can. It won't take half an hour to throw your
clothes into your trunk. After supper, when we're packed, a
carter will carry our trunks to the wharf. A fleet of forty
ships is waiting in the harbour.”

“It's been waiting there for days. Why the hurry now?”

“The fleet's been waiting to catch the wind. For days it's
been blowing from the east. Now it's switching to the west.
We set sail on the morning tide.”

“You'd better get started,” said Phoebe. “I'll finish making
supper. It will be ready by the time Mrs. Doughty returns
home.”

Charlotte set down her oyster knife. When she looked up,
she saw a smile on Nick's face.

“And here's some good news. When we get to Carleton
Island, I'll be working at Fort Haldimand, where you and I
shall have a room in the officers' quarters. It's all settled.”

She laughed. “As I recall, it was all settled for us to live in
the officers' quarters here in Charleston.”

“No fear this time. My work's cut out for me. No more
carrying messages. No more spy missions. There are more
than five hundred Loyalists to be evacuated from Carleton
Island. My assignment is help organize their move to the
mainland.”

“But why do they have to leave Carleton Island?”

“They have to leave because Carleton Island will be part
of the United States of America. According to the treaty of
peace, the international border will run between Carleton
Island and Wolfe Island.

“The British government has bought a huge tract of land
from the Mississaugas. It covers Cataraqui, the Bay of Quinte,
and the north shore of the St. Lawrence River. This area is
where Loyalists will receive their land grants. That includes
you and me, dearest. As soon as we reach the Upper Country, I can register our names. Before long, you and I will own
land of our own.”

“Nick, that's marvellous. I can hardly wait!”

“When you're gone, will you write to me, Miss Charlotte?”
Phoebe asked.

“Of course. And you must write to me. I'll write down directions for you to address your letters.”

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. A knock so loud
it made Charlotte jump.

“Who might that be?” she exclaimed.

The caller knocked again.

She hurried into the front room and opened the door.

A carriage drawn by a roan horse stood waiting in the
street. On the doorstep stood a well-dressed gentleman
whom she had never seen before. He wore a tricorn hat, a
dark blue velvet frockcoat, and a ruffled shirt of dazzling
white muslin. Grey eyes stared boldly from a cruel but handsome face.

Grey eyes. Like Noah's. A chill ran down Charlotte's spine.

“I believe this is the Widow Doughty's house?” He had
the easy manner of a man of the world.

“It is.”

“And a black girl named Phoebe is living here?”

“Yes.”

“Please fetch her.” He stepped into the room without invitation, as if sure of his right to enter any habitation that he
chose.

“Phoebe is not to be fetched,” Charlotte bristled. “I'm sure
she hears your voice. She will come if she chooses.”

Turning her head, she saw that Phoebe was already entering the room. She held Noah by the hand, his grey eyes
peeking from around her skirt. Nick stood in the kitchen
doorway, watching.

“Well, Phoebe,” the man said. “I hear that you're a free
woman now.”

“Yes, sir. I am free.” Phoebe's manner showed that same
dignity Charlotte had noticed at the slave market.

“But your child is not.” He spoke with the confidence of
someone accustomed to having his own way. “The fact is,
Phoebe, you're in possession of stolen property.”

Phoebe held her ground. “I'm free. My son is free.”

“Now, Phoebe, you know better than that. You were my
property at the time of his birth. That makes him my property.” There was not so much as a glimmer of kindness in his
grey eyes. Only steely determination.

Charlotte spoke up. “This little boy is free. He has lived
for a year behind British lines.”

“That's right,” Nick added. “He's entitled to a General
Birch certificate.”

Morley laughed. “Those rules no longer apply. Remember,
the British lost the war. They aren't handing out any more
General Birch certificates. I've already looked into this. If a
runaway slave already holds a valid certificate, the United
States of America will recognize his freedom. Wisely or not,
the terms of peace make that provision. But I doubt that this
child . . .” At that moment he really looked at Noah for the
first time. When he saw the eyes that were the colour of his
own, he flinched.

It took a moment for him to recover his self-possession.
Then he continued. “I doubt whether a child this young has
assisted the British for the required year.”

Phoebe's voice was fierce. “You can't have him.”

“Mr. Morley, you must leave,” said Charlotte. “If Mrs.
Doughty were here, she would not welcome you under her
roof.”

“Then let's take care of this business before she returns.
I have a buyer for the boy, a wealthy planter whose son is
one year old. He wishes to purchase a suitable boy to be a
lifetime servant for his son. He wants one who's about the
same age, so they can grow up together.”

“Get out!” Nick strode to the door, raising one closed fist.
He looked as if he could, and would, hurl Morley into the
street.

Morley protested. “Sir, it is none of your business what I
do with this child. I have suffered a good deal at the hands
of the Tories. I was imprisoned in a dungeon. My warehouse
was seized. My house was occupied by pen pushers who
drank all my wine. It will take months to rebuild my business. Some reparation is due. If I can make a few pounds by
selling a piece of my property, that surely is my right.”

“A human being is not property.” Nick's voice was cold
with contempt.

Morley blustered. “I had hoped to handle this with no
fuss. Since that isn't possible, I'll be back tomorrow with a
magistrate's order and a couple of strong men to back it up.”
He glared at Phoebe. “Punishment will be severe if you attempt to hide the child.” His lips compressed into an ugly
line.

As he turned to leave, he bumped right into Mrs. Doughty
coming through the doorway, followed by Patience, Charity
and Joseph.

“Excuse me,” he said, and kept on going.

For a long moment no one spoke. Mrs. Doughty broke
the silence. “What was Mr. Morley doing here?”

“He's going to take my baby and sell him. Mrs. Doughty,
please help me!” Dropping to her knees beside Noah, she
wrapped her arms around her child and buried her face in
his soft neck.

Charlotte and Nick explained to Mrs. Doughty all that
had happened.

When they finished, Mrs. Doughty said, “I'm not sure
what we can do. But one thing is certain: Phoebe and Noah
must leave Charleston before morning.”