Far From Home (6 page)

I don’t have my wages yet, he reasoned. And I might not get them in full if I leave. It would be just like Newmarch to take the ticket money out of what he owes me.

‘We’ll buy extra provisions when we arrive in New York.’ Newmarch took the soup bowl from him and dipped in a piece of dry bread to soften it. ‘We shall have plenty of time before we get the next ship.’

‘Very good, sir.’ Allen served the meat and potatoes onto a plate. If he gives me money to buy food I could disappear until the ship has sailed. But then he’s tight-fisted, he won’t give me much. He won’t know the cost of things anyway. His type never do.

When they arrived in New York Edward Newmarch obtained passages on a boat sailing for New Orleans the next day, then booked in at an hotel near the waterfront. ‘Righto,’ he said to Allen. ‘Let’s buy what we need for the voyage. I’ll come with you.’

He hired a hansom, which bowled along Broadway towards the nearest shopping plaza, and whilst Newmarch waited in the cab, Allen went to buy provisions.

‘You just off a ship, mister?’ A butcher wrapped a ham shank and a leg of mutton in a muslin cloth. Allen nodded. It would be obvious, he supposed. His trousers and coat were crumpled from lying on his bunk for there was no space for hanging clothes, and although he had washed his shirts along with those of his employer’s, there were no facilities for pressing or ironing on board.

‘Staying in New York?’

‘No. Going on to New Orleans.’

The butcher laughed. ‘Then make sure you eat the meat before you get there, mister, or else them danged flies will have it.’ He had a round flat face and he grinned again. ‘Then the mosquitoes will eat you. If the crocs don’t get you first!’ He looked towards Newmarch waiting in the hansom outside. ‘That your boss?’

Again Allen nodded and murmured that he was.

‘Quite a swell, ain’t he? He’ll do well in New Orleans with all them Creole ladies. They’ll want him at their balls and parties.’ He gave Allen a wink. ‘They’ll not want you though, unless it’s to serve on table.’ He wagged a finger. ‘You could do well. They’d like that, having an Englishman waiting on them.’

Allen took a deep breath, paid him with the money Newmarch had given him and walked out seething. Was there still a class system, then? Even here? Did breeding matter? I thought that only money talked. It does, I’m sure of it, and I intend to do plenty of talking.

Next day they boarded the
Mississippi Girl
, a paddle steamer. After Allen had unpacked Newmarch’s luggage in his cabin he went below, taking with him the meat he had just bought, labelled with Edward Newmarch’s name. A tall, thickset Negro was pulling on a white coat over his cotton shirt and trousers and he looked up as Allen came down the companionway. ‘Yes, sir?’ he said.

‘I’m looking for the cook,’ Allen said briefly. ‘I need this meat cooking now.’

‘Guess I’m the cook, sir,’ the man drawled and gazed at Allen with dark placid eyes. He pointed to the table in the middle of the room where other provisions were laid. ‘Put the meat down there. I’ll cook it as soon as the boiler is hot.’

Allen was curious. ‘Are you from New Orleans?’

The man’s face closed up and he looked down his wide nose. ‘I ain’t from nowhere, sir. I just go where the cap’n tells me.’

‘What? Are you not a free man?’

‘No, sir, I ain’t.’ The fellow started to sort out the parcels of food on the table. ‘And I shouldn’t be talking to you, sir, though I guess if you’re from a foreign country you wouldn’t know that.’

‘But if you’re a cook, you’ll get a wage? A salary?’

‘No, sir. Ah just get my bed, my food and my clothes.’

‘But there’s no slavery in the North,’ Allen insisted. ‘Couldn’t you just get off the ship here in New York?’

‘Then what’d I do? Nobody would give me a job. They don’t like niggers in New York. No, sir. Besides, my boss’d come looking for me.’

And I thought I was badly done by, Allen reflected as he went back to the upper deck. But at least if I decided to leave, nobody would chase after me and bring me back. He was sobered by the thought of the big black man who looked so strong that nobody would want to meddle with him, and yet who was captive and weak in that he couldn’t be called free.

We’ve abolished slavery in England, but never having seen a slave, I haven’t really thought or cared about it before. And here’s one right in front of me. It doesn’t seem a fair system, he pondered. This isn’t a free country after all.

‘I’ve just met a slave, sir.’ Allen took Newmarch’s supper to him as they sailed out of New York harbour towards the Atlantic once again, where they would turn towards the coast of Florida. ‘He’s the cook.’

‘Good God!’ Edward looked down at his supper tray. ‘Are they allowed to cook? Is he clean?’ He sniffed at his plate. ‘What can I smell? Something spicy! Is this my meat?’

‘Yes, sir, yes, sir, and yes, sir. It’s your ham and the spice is cloves, with oregano. The cook told me,’ he added as Newmarch looked up suspiciously. ‘It’s a Creole dish.’

‘What else?’ Newmarch poked about in the food with his fork. ‘What’s this red stuff?’

‘Chillies, sir. They’ll be hot. And garlic.’

Newmarch took a small bite. ‘They use these spicy ingredients to disguise bad meat, you know.’

‘Yes, sir. The butcher said we should eat the meat before we get to New Orleans or the heat will rot it.’

Newmarch took another bite and chewed. ‘Tastes all right,’ he considered. ‘Quite good, in fact. Right, we’ll eat meat every day for luncheon. Alternate the ham with the mutton until it’s finished and I’ll take supper with the captain.’

The weather became hotter as they steamed down the coast and the Atlantic became a brighter and more brilliant blue as they headed towards the waters of the Gulf of Mexico. They looked towards the stumpy finger of land which they were told was East Florida, and came into the steamy air of the Gulf of Mexico.

‘Permission to take off my jacket, sir?’ Allen asked, perspiration running down his face. He’d brought Newmarch a glass of fresh orange juice, having squeezed the oranges which he had bought from the cook.

‘I should have brought a cotton jacket, Allen. These European clothes are far too hot. I’ll have to buy some more suitable clothes in New Orleans. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Keep your jacket on. It doesn’t do to let standards slip.’

And so Allen sweated in his wool jacket, waistcoat and trousers, whilst Newmarch sat in his shirtsleeves beneath an awning on the deck and watched the colour of the waves change again as the muddy waters of the Mississippi river slewed into the sea.

Their progress up the great river towards the old city of New Orleans was slow and took several days, hampered as they were by the mass of river traffic. Ships laden with foreign passengers steamed laboriously along the river between the flat landscape of the plantations where fields of cotton, sugar cane and the huts of the native workers could be seen above the embankment. As they neared New Orleans, flatboats and trading vessels coming down from Kentucky and Ohio bringing in ham, wheat and corn all vied for space along the levee, where merchants and traders piled high their cotton bales, sugar, and other commodities, ready to do business.

‘What does the river remind you of, Allen?’ Newmarch asked as they stood at the rails watching the ship dock along the riverbank.

‘Nothing, sir,’ Allen shook his head. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it, nor felt such heat.’

‘Why, the old Humber,’ Newmarch replied. ‘Doesn’t it remind you of that? It’s wide and muddy and full of ships just like this, and even the embankment to keep the waters out of the town is the same as along parts of the Humber.’

‘It’s called the
levee
, sir.’ Allen thought his employer had taken leave of his senses. The Humber was nothing like this. The Humber estuary had hidden sandbanks and rushing tides; the Mississippi was slow, had hidden tree roots below the surface of the water, floating branches and swathes of moss and bulrushes, not to mention crocodiles and the swarms of mosquitoes which were already sucking his blood as the butcher in New York had said they would.

‘I know what it’s called,’ Newmarch said impatiently. ‘Come on, let’s get packed, we shall disembark before nightfall.’

Meaning, Allen grumbled to himself as Newmarch went to join some of the other passengers for a last hand of cards, get packing, Allen, and don’t forget anything. He emptied the cupboard which now contained only half a bottle of brandy and one or two books, and started to take his employer’s clothes from the drawer beneath his bunk. He carefully folded his jackets and put them in the trunk and did the same with the trousers. He put in his shoes and boots, shirts, handkerchiefs and cravats, leaving out one grey suit which was lighter in weight than the others, one shirt and one cravat. ‘He’ll probably want one of those that I’ve already packed,’ he muttered, ‘but I’ll risk it.’

He laid the trousers on the bunk and put the jacket over the back of the single chair, for there was little hanging space in the cabin. As he did so, something fell out of the inside pocket. It was Newmarch’s bulging leather pocketbook. He picked it up from the floor and, after a single moment’s hesitation, opened it. He reached to put the chair against the cabin door in case Newmarch should return, and quickly flicked through the contents.

It wasn’t the first time he had looked through his employer’s private things, but there was never much money in his purse. This, however, was packed with notes, bills of credit from the bank, documents and English money.

He gave a soft whistle through his teeth as he contemplated it. There would be enough here to set him up for a long time. But no, he deliberated. I haven’t yet stooped so low. I’ll get by on my own endeavours. He put the pocketbook on top of the small chest, moved the chair back to its original place and continued packing.

A moment later, Newmarch burst through the door. ‘My pocketbook!’ he blurted out. ‘I must have dropped it somewhere.’

‘Here, sir.’ Allen, picking it up, waved it at him. ‘I found it on the floor. Must have dropped out of your coat.’

‘Phew!’ Newmarch took it from him. ‘Thank God for that, Allen. We’d have been stumped without it. My whole life is in here.’

‘I have an introduction, Allen.’ Edward watched as Allen and the Negro driver loaded their luggage into the open trap. ‘We’ll book in at the hotel, then I’ll change and go calling.’

Allen was already exhausted. The heat beat down, even though the day was drawing on, and the aroma of blossom was overpowering. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. ‘Very good, sir.’

They drove to the hotel which the ship’s captain had recommended, watching the hustle and bustle of New Orleans as they trotted by. The streets were filled with Negroes, Indians, dark-eyed Creoles, Europeans and Chinese and frontiersmen of every nationality in their leather-skinned jackets, and they could hear French, Spanish and English voices as people greeted each other.

Young slave girls with their dark hair covered by colourful scarves, wicker baskets hooked over their arms, chatted on street corners, and laden pack mules plodded slowly up the road towards the market as the drivers cracked their whips above them and shouted fruitlessly for them to hurry.

The cab driver sang in a rich deep voice as he drove away from the river and towards the interior of the city. Within cool flower-filled courtyards, buildings of sun-dried brick or yellow stucco were festooned with bougainvillea and jasmine, and white shutters enclosed the windows against the heat.

‘Quite a city, eh, Allen? Very exotic.’ Edward glanced over his shoulder at a graceful ivory-skinned woman carrying a parasol, a young Negress at her side. The woman saw his stare and lowered her parasol so that her face was shielded from his gaze.

He suddenly thought of Ruby and was filled with an impotent desire and melancholy for her. He had first seen her whilst travelling in a chaise with his brother as they were returning home from the Hull cotton mill in which they were shareholders. She had lifted her head and smiled at him in a spontaneous carefree manner. He had immediately fallen in love and wanted her, no matter that she was a poor mill girl and he engaged to be married.

I must be careful, he thought. The ladies here will be kept under lock and key. He had heard that the New Orleans gentlemen with their French or Spanish background would not tolerate any reckless dalliance with their womenfolk.

They obtained rooms at the hotel which Captain Voularis of the
Mississippi Girl
had recommended. It was cool within the white walls and they were shown upstairs by a young black boy in a dark blue jacket and trousers which were edged with red. Edward gave him an English shilling, as he hadn’t yet worked out the American currency system.

The boy looked at it in his hand and Edward asked him if it was acceptable.

‘Sure thing, sir. My boss will take any kind of money so long as he can spend it.’

‘But that’s for you,’ Edward objected, ‘for bringing up the luggage.’

The boy nodded. ‘That’s mighty kind of you, sir. But Señor Gomez will be waiting when I get down dem stairs, and I ain’t got no pockets where I can hide it.’

‘In that case I’ll have it back.’ Edward put out his hand for the boy to return the money. ‘I’m not tipping your employer. That’s not on at all!’

‘There’s a lot to learn, Allen,’ he remarked as the boy left the room. ‘More than I imagined.’

‘Yes,’ Allen agreed. ‘It’s a mingling of different cultures. And some of them seem to stick to their old ways, rather like we do in England. Maybe it will be different in California, sir,’ he added.

‘I hope so,’ Edward murmured as he took off his shirt to wash in the cool water that Allen had poured into the porcelain basin. ‘I’d like to think that there’s more freedom there than at home.’ He took a deep breath and hoped, not for the first time, that he had done the right thing in leaving his wife and country. But I couldn’t have stayed in England without Ruby. Better that I am in a foreign land with distractions.

He looked in the gilt mirror on the wall and saw his wind-browned skin. His cheeks seemed leaner than they had been. I’ve lost weight, he thought, which is odd when I have done so much loafing around on the ship. I need some good fresh food, he decided.