The black swan (61 page)

"What was goin' on back there? Adam, you're hurt!" Her fingers were sticky from the bloodied ribbons that had been his shirt.

"Forget that! I'm not hurt." He kissed her hard and quickly and turned her toward the house. "Run, Dulcie! I've got to go back."

She took a step. "Let me go with you! I can help!"

Strained taut as a bow, he said, through clenched teeth, "Damn you, Dulcie!" He mounted the horse, looking down at her from that height. "Go where you belong, where I know you'll be safe."

"Adam!" she cried after him.

"Go home to Savannah, Dulcie!"

When he returned to the hut, the confusion had spread. Fighting, thrashing bodies rolled in the grassy turf. Beau's wagons filled and rolled into the darkness.

Adam pulled free a slave who cowered under the attack of Revanche's overseer. Sleath spun, his whip whistling through the air, curling around Adam's body to bite the flesh over his ribs. A gasp of pain was forced out. Again the whip lashed. Adam braced for the split second when the pain would bite and at the same instant the whip would be caught and held by its impact on his body. Then he grabbed, jerking Sleath, wrenching the whip from his hand. With the heavy handle Adam beat him senseless.

He tossed the whip away, racing for the area where Revanche's men had tethered their horses. Juneau Nuit and Dr. Beauregard followed. They freed and slapped each horse on the rump. The terrified horses snorted, scattering, then herded into the woods.

"Can you do one more thing for me, Juneau? Then Ullah will be avenged."

"You're de Black Swan, Cap'n. What's you wan' us to do?"

He handed her a small box of sulphur matches. "Fire his fields. Set Gray Oaks ablaze." Juneau chuckled, an eerie, satisfied sound in the darkness. "I wish I could do it myself, but I've got to get your people safely aboard the Liberty"

"Mebbe woan be yo* han' dat light de flame, but it be yo' matches an* yo' spirit dat done it. You jes' look back. De night gwine come alive. Juneau gwine bring on de fire o' de night sun."

As Adam raced for the v^^agons, Ben caught up with him. Running like madmen, they flung themselves onto the last wagon. They saw nothing until they were free of the woods. Then, like a halo in the heavens rose the hazy orange glow. The fire of the night sun. Gray Oaks was in flames.

The yellowish glow from the cane fields spread, flames licking up in the darkness. For once, Edmund Revanche found himself victimized. Totally helpless, he watched his beloved Gray Oaks turn into a conflagration. With a sickened heart he saw the walls give way to the intensity of the hellfire that consumed them. His frustration and fury were pale, insignificant, compeired to the hatred he felt for the man responsible for his ruin.

The Liberty was anchored in the Mississippi. Adam's troubles began again. The slaves wouldn't leave the wagons. He implored them to get into the jolly boats. Faces turned from him. Men kept their hands folded, hiding their nakedness. Women clustered together, knees closed tightly, arms covering bared breasts. Adam looked dumbfounded. "What do we do now? They won't move!'*

Ben winked at him, then a great laugh erupted

"Damn you, Ben! It isn't funnyl" he shouted, then burst out laughing. He leaned weakly against the wagon. A gargantuan hand clasped his shoulder.

" 'Scuse me, boss, suh."

Adam looked up into the dark, shining face of the Hercules who had communed with the dead spirits. He looked like a court jester with his head held rigid by a pronged iron collar Edmund had placed on him for being incorrigible. Bells on the ends of the prongs that clasped the sides and back of his giant head tinkled at every movement

"What is it?" Adam asked.

"Iffen you got coverin* to hide dey nekkidness, Ah km gets 'em on de boat fo' you, boss."

"Ben, Beau . . . haul the bedding, linen, anything we've got on the Liberty. Bring it ashore. Hurry!"

"Aye, aye, sir," Ben said, still chuckling.

"You think they'll come if we cover them," Adam said skeptically.

"Dey sho' 'nuflf will, boss. Ah be glad to he'p you. Dey ain't a nigger heah who ain't afeered o' dis black man."

"Come on down. What's your name?"

"He be Rosebud," a woman giggled.

Adam looked at the enormous man leaping with his tinkling slave bells down onto the soft earth. "Rosebud!" he repeated, suppressing laughter.

"Dat right, boss. Rosebud McAllister. Mah Mammy done it 'cause she doan know Ah gwine grow an' grow an' jes' nevah stop. Ah's right proud o' dat name. Ah be Rosebud McAllister, R.B. fo* sho't. Dey's only one like me."

"Welcome aboard, R.B." Adam grinned and shook the man's hand. Ben and Beau returned with sheets, blankets, tablecloths. Rosebud McAllister took the entire load, then routed out the first group of slaves.

Rosebud began to move in the serpent's dance. "We gwine fly on de wings o' de Black Swan."

The slaves echoed, "We gwine fly on de wings o' de Black Swan."

Rosebud's voice grew louder, more confident. "We gwine cross ober Jo'dan on de wings o' de Black Swan."

"We gwine cross ober Jo'dan on de wings o' de Black Swan."

"We gwine soar to de Promise Lan' on de wings o' de Black Swan." R.B. sang out until the words became a chant, then a song, and the slaves began to follow the black naked giant. They held the sheets up in front of them as R.B. instructed and went singing to the Liberty completely oblivious of their naked backsides.

As the last of the slaves boarded the ship, it rang with song, low, melancholy prayers of hope and remorse and fear. Men and women keened and moaned in self-conscious embarrassment. Some nursed painful if superficial wounds, others sang because it made them feel better.

But for Adam it was chaos reigning. Leaderless again once R.B. melted into the crowd, the slaves scurried madly across the decks, several blundering onto the bridge, others

racing wildly seeking cover behind cotton bales. Jack-tars, mates, and firemen shouted futile instructions.

Adam bellowed for order. Ben tried to force several into a line. As soon as he released one to grab hold of another, the first man melted invisibly into the dark. Laughing and helpless, Ben retired to sit on a coil of rope, watching the frantic activities of crew and slaves. Everywhere was noise and confusion. Nowhere was there order.

The Liberty began to make its way to the Head of the Passes, only having to anchor again short of the forts. Adam paced the bridge, checking the navigation as he waited for the noise to quiet. "God, Ben, we can't run the blockade with them howling like this." Adam groaned, then turned and raced down the companionway to confront his noisy passengers. "Quiet!" he shouted, until he got their momentary attention. "Everyone must remain quiet, or the Federals will be able to find us."

lihey looked at him, agreeable and mildly attentive. It seemed they listened. He mounted the companionway. The keening and singing began anew. Adam spun around, ready to storm back, angry and outraged that they hadn't obeyed. Instead, he went to the shiprail, grasping the cold brass, leaning helplessly against it.

They understood nothing of blockades or Federal gunboats. Most of them were afraid of the ship. They were frightened and embarrassed and were consoling themselves.

But how was he to get them safely out of Louisiana? If they continued, the noise would carry for miles on the night air. He didn't dare take them past the Confederate forts. Just having them aboard was illegal. Easily identifiable, Negro voices would draw fire on the Liberty from Confederates as well as Federals. This night there was no safe harbor, no friendly ally. He was pirate, smuggler—enemy to both North and South.

As a crewman passed, Adam said, "Send Rosebud McAllister to me."

"Aye, aye, sir. Who is . . . Rosebud McAllister?"

"The big black with bells on his neck," Adam snapped, then chuckled helplessly.

Snickering, the young seaman went in search of Rosebud.

Adam explained to the giant why silence was absolutely essential. He looked beseechingly at Rosebud. "Can you quiet them?"

**Dat gwine take a pow'ful lot o' doin', but you done ast de right man. Seem like Ah better kick 'em all up de side o* dey haids, boss."

Adam groaned. "No-o— **

"Well, den, you got some spirits dat mighty potent?"

"Now you're talking!" Adam ordered everything alcoholic from the galley and the cabins. Swathed in blankets and tablecloths, the slaves were fed rum, brandy, wine, gin, and whiskey. Within an hour the ship was quieting. Some vomited over the side, some on the immaculately clean decks. Some snored gently. Others slept the sleep of the dead. No one spoke. No one sang.

Adam sighed. Rosebud tinkled at his side, the little bells unnaturally loud in the quiet. "We sho' nuff shet dem up, boss!"

Adam agreed, clapping him on the shoulder. "For God's sake, go below and have someone take that damned collar off you."

"Aye, aye, boss!" R.B. saluted as briskly as any seaman Adam ever had.

Just before dawn, much later than Adam wished, the Liberty slipped through the blockade at the Southwest Pass and steamed into the Gulf of Mexico, headed for New York.

Near dusk of the fifth day they were spotted by a Federal cruiser. Adam stood on the bridge, as Ben was at the helm. The Jack-tar in the crow's nest shouted, "Ship ahoy!"

Adam leaped down the ladder to the deck. R.B. gazed in consternation as the cruiser belched fire some eight to ten miles astern of them. The shot hit the water harmlessly, sending spouts into the air. "Dey shootin' at us, boss?'*

"Nobody else," Adam said tersely as he rushed past.

Rosebud followed. "What we gwine do 'bout dat, boss?"

"We're going to build a mighty head of steam and run like hell."

R.B., wearing a shred of sheet tied precariously about his loins, marched to the coal bunkers with Adam. He grabbed the coal shovel from the smallest of the firemen and sent the man sprawling, shrieking as he crashed into the coal bunker. Adam spun around to face Rosebud's enormous grin. "Ain't nobody kin shovel faster'n a skeert nigger, boss!"

Adam watched the huge black man feeding the mouth of the furnace two shovel loads to the best fireman's one.

R.B.*s powerful chest and arms rippled, already coated with perspiration, as he established an easy but swift rhythm.

"Well, Chief, you got a new man." Adam glanced back at Rosebud. The furnace was glutted with coal. Sparks flew. Adam grinned, shaking his head. "Keep an eye on him.'*

"He looks like a willing worker," the chief said.

"All of that. Just make sure he doesn't feed it so full he blows us right out of the water."

Adam returned to the deck to check the rigging. Under full sail and full steam, on an evening like this with a favorable wind, nothing on the seas could outrun the Liberty, unless it was his own ship, the Independence. All he had to do was make certain no one made an error.

Astern, the cruiser steamed after them, the great gulps of fire and puffs of smoke spewing shot harmlessly into the air and water. Adam felt triumphant. Invincible. On this, his most disastrously chaotic trip, Adam felt like a king.

Chapter Seventeen

Dulcie was left standing in the driveway of Marsh House as Adam rode to the hut. Someday she wouldn't be left behind. But she recognized leadenly that Adam's life left little space for a lady used to drawing rooms and finery. Commitment to him was not so simple as it had first seemed.

Her whole life would have to change and expand to accommodate his dedication to what he believed right. She could live her life at home, waiting, wondering if he would return, or she could somehow become a part of what he did and believed in. Neither choice was easy, and both required courage. She would travel against the stream of her family's beliefs.

She turned resolutely toward the house. Her uncle walked toward her, a lamp held high. "What's the explanation of this, young lady?"

Webster Tilden was a humorless man she had never liked. Now she liked him less. "I went for a walk. I couldn't sleep."

"You went for a walk," he said with overbearing sar-

casm. "Strange, considerin' I heard you comin' home by horse. How did you happen on a horseman at this time of night?"

Weak responses, easy replies flooded her throat Uncle Webster expected her to beg his pardon, to be his sweet empty-minded niece seeking his guidance after an indiscretion. Then she thought of Adam; her back stiffened, her jaw set stubbornly. Her amber eyes glowed. "I have no explanation."

Webster was nonplussed. "Well, we'll see about this. Never—never has the Tilden name been so disgraced by the unladylike obstinancy of a female as it has tonight."

Dulcie shivered. She was too accustomed to her father and uncles having absolute command to be very brave in this, her first attempt at independence.

Webster muttered to himself. "It had to be someone you know. I knew you'd turn out no better than a trollop. I told Caroline we'd rue any society our girls had with Jem Moran's girl. Proved me right tonight, haven't you, girl."

She glanced at the house. Everybody was up. Aunt Caroline, looking pale and much abused, wafted her smelling salts in a little arc under her nose. Gay's face was blotched from crying. Only Jenny, flushed with triumph, enjoyed the scene.

Dulcie heard her uncle give sharp orders. A conch shell sounded twice, an eerie sound that sped over the damp night "Robert and Phil are out huntin' for you, Miss," Webster said accusingly. "Since you put us to shame, and have placed Gay and Jenny in danger for your selfish motives, I believe you owe us all a complete explanation."

Dulcie remained silent

Webster turned his eyes on his daughter. Gay burst into tears. "We went to the voodoo ceremony, Daddy. We didn't mean to do anythin' wrong!"

"I'm sure you didn't, but you can see the harm that has been caused."

"She did too know we were being bad!" Jenny cried. "She wanted to see Captain Tremain. She knew he'd be there. I heard them talkin'."

Dulcie sheltered in the babble of voices.

Webster silenced them with a harsh gesture. He stood combatively, legs apart, arms folded. "Dulcie, I'm waitin*. I am not a patient man."

Dulcie's eyes darted to Gay. Faced with Webster's anger.

her newfound courage drained away. "We—I thought it would be like Circus Square. I didn't know it was a—a religious ceremony."

"You expect me to believe that, of course!"

"It's the truth!" Dulcie blushed remembering blacks naked, giggling drunkenly, grappling on the floor.

"So you dragged your cousins along."

Gay was looking down. Jenny had found an interesting hangnail to smooth out. Dulcie took a deep breath. "Yes. I did."

"Daddy, it wasn't all her fault!" Gay cried. "We wanted to go—"

'7 didn't! / came back!" said Jenny proudly.

"Now, let's hear about this Captain Tremain, who lures young women out at night. You met this—this man there?"

"I did not meet him! He knew nothin' about it. I may not be a lady, but he is a gentleman!" Dulcie blazed at him, her fear vanished. "I love him, and I'm goin' to marry him!"

Caroline's head lolled. The salts bottle rolled to Webster's foot. For once in a lifetime of ladylike pretense, Caroline had really fainted.

"Marry him! A brigand, who creeps about in the night? A man totally lackin' in honor or breedin'? I suppose your father knows about this! He has given his consent, naturally?"

Take what you want and pay the price, Adam had told her once. She had not counted price when she came to him, but she was beginning to guess what this evening's fiasco, would cost her. What would Uncle Webster tell her father? And what would Jem do?

Dulcie stood straight and defiant. Once more she set her resolve. "My father knows and approves of Captain Tremain, Uncle Webster. We are to be married next month. And it—-it was my fault that Gay and Jenny were disobedient. It was my idea to go to the ceremony. I wanted to say good-bye to him. That was all!"