Heirs of Acadia - 03 - The Noble Fugitive (39 page)

“Because we discussed it and agreed, Lord Bartholomew!”

Falconer could not halt the hiss that escaped him. “You.”

Simon Bartholomew blanched at the menace in Falconer’s face. “Stay away from me!”

“You are an attacker of children, a destroyer of souls,” Falconer said.

He was not even aware that he had moved, save for the fact that Bartholomew was now scrambling backwards across the floor. “Guards! Call the guards and have this vile liar removed!”

Falconer was not armed, which was good. He used the only weapons he had at his disposal, which were his voice and his right arm. He pointed at the man and used the roar trained to reach the highest mizzen in the fiercest storm. “In the name of Jesus, I rebuke you! For the lies you have perpetrated, for the suffering you have caused, for all the evil you seek to do, I rebuke you in Christ’s name!”

The man struggled as though choked by the hand that did not quite reach him. He managed to gasp, “The man is clearly insane.”

“If you will not accept his word, then take mine!” Lord Sedgwick lumbered forward. “I stand today as living witness to this man’s accusations! Just as is described in the pamphlet you hold, I heard young lord Drescott confess to Bartholomew’s complicity in the attempted murder of innocents!”

“And I as well,” Carlyle added. “Every word you hear is true. Every word.”

“Lies,” the banker protested, but more feebly now.

“Let them have their say,” another said, and this time his words were met with a chorus of assents.

“Insane.” The banker continued to back away until his twisted form was lost behind a cluster of other robed figures.

“Speak, then,” another said, more quietly this time.

Gareth took a single step forward. “I had the honor of meeting with our dear friend William Wilberforce this morning. He sends all of you his blessings and these words.” He unfolded a paper drawn from his pocket, and read, “ ‘This is not about accusation. This is about shame. My shame. I take Parliament’s shame upon myself for the terrible trafficking in human tragedy. These are the desperate facts. We are all guilty.’ ”

He lowered the page. “He said something more. ‘Here I am, packed and sealed and ready for the eternal post. There are but two things I know. That I am a great sinner. And Christ is the great Savior.’ ”

Gareth stepped back and signaled to Falconer.

“My name is John Falconer,” he said, stepping forward. “When I was twenty-five, I inherited my first command from a dead man’s hands. The ship was called Sweetwater, after the merchant prince’s family, but the crew had a different name for her. We ferried slaves to the West Indies. The ship sailed under the American flag, but the merchant family is British, and our buyers were all within the British islands.”

“Impossible!” a voice cried from the rear of the crowded hall. “Trafficking in slaves has been outlawed for more than twenty years!”

“And yet the law is powerless against such transgressions!” This from Gareth Powers. “Until the industry itself is abolished, such secret crimes will continue! We have but one choice! One!”

Falconer waited for silence. When the assembly was listening once more, he continued. “The night I became master of my first vessel, there was a ferocious squall. A nighttime gale that came out of nowhere, as happens sometimes in the trade
wind latitudes. A wave came out of nowhere as well, one so high I could not see its crest. It swept the skipper and six seamen overboard so fast we heard but a single scream. The rest of us clung to whatever was nearest and fought to clear the wreckage. We had lost a mast to the wave as well. The fouled rigging tied us to this sea anchor and threatened to send us all to the ocean floor. When the rigging was cleared and mast gone, the crew wanted to drop our cargo overboard as well. Our human cargo. The poor wretched men and women and children chained within our holds.

“When I refused to let the crew dump the human cargo into the sea and lighten the ship, some of the crew rebelled. I received this scar you see that night, fighting for my life.” Falconer touched the jagged line on the side of his face. “Thankfully, the storm abated before the crew could take over the ship. We rigged the spare mast and sailed on.”

He could hear his voice echoing off the high ceiling, as though other men now joined with him. A deep rumbling chorus of guilt. “Do not think that I fought for these slaves because I was concerned for their welfare. I fought because it was my duty as skipper to save the merchant’s cargo. That was my only goal.

“I can still remember the day I realized just how cold and callous my poor soul had become. I sat in a harbor tavern, surrounded by men I classed as mates. I cared for nothing and no one. That day I watched a former shipmate walk down the line of my newly delivered cargo, giving them water. Another man carried the barrel for him, a man I knew as a thief and a murderer. The two of them stopped by each of these slaves, gave them water, and prayed for them.

“I sat and listened as my so-called mates jeered these two men and their act of kindness. And I knew that I was dead. No matter what strength my limbs might have held or that I was called skipper and captain and wore braid on my sleeves. I was dead. My soul was forfeited. Dead and buried in eternal ashes and shame.

“I went in search of that former shipmate. To this day I cannot tell you why. But I did. His name was Felix, and he serves now as curate of a church in Trinidad. Or he does if Simon Bartholomew and his minions have not murdered him as they did the man who carried the water barrel.” He waited for the murmuring to die down, then continued, “I remain as I was, a sinner in need of salvation. I am nothing more than a fighter, with no idea of great matters such as this. But Felix needed help to gather information against the slavers. And I did as he asked. How could I not, after what he had done for me?”

John Falconer pointed at the pamphlets dangling from many hands. “I confess to you these things so that you will know the manner of sinner who stands before you today. But I tell you this. What you see written upon those pages are facts. And I add my voice to Mr. Wilberforce’s. To pretend that the slave trade is ended is a lie. You tell yourself this lie so you can sleep well at night. But know this. In truth, so long as you hold the power to change things and do nothing, we are all shipmates, you and I. We have all worked together to inflict further suffering upon innocent souls.”

The Parliamentary debate over the abolition of slavery throughout the British empire stretched on and on. Sedgwick and Carlyle came repeatedly to the Wilberforce home. Sedgwick was most eager to spend time with Falconer and endeavored to explain the nation’s politics.

They were seated in the front parlor, where Serafina had served them tea before settling down in a high-backed chair by the glowing fire. The English seasons were a mystery to Falconer. Here it was scarcely an inch into autumn and already the day could be called wintry. Falconer could tell Sedgwick was enamored with Serafina. The man was not unattractive, in a very large and ponderous sort of way. He was probably
only a year or so older than Falconer, and the power of his position, and his obvious wealth, gave him a stately air.

Falconer assumed that in time he might become impervious to the way other men looked at Serafina. That is, if he was granted more time in her company. He observed the passage of days with an odd mixture of impatience and dread. Whatever Parliament decided, his work here was almost done. He did not know how much longer he would remain in England. But it was a matter of days. And the thought of leaving Serafina behind felt as heavy as an illness.

Sedgwick set down his cup. “Might I say, sir, your testimony before the members of Parliament carried astonishing force. I truly believe it may well have tipped the balance.”

“I can hardly see that it mattered at all, what with this constant delay.”

“This is not delay, sir. Not at all. A proper Parliamentary delay is a matter of years, not days. No, the august body is nearly galloping ahead. Strange as it may seem to you, this is breakneck pace for Parliament.”

“
Strange
is the word I certainly would have chosen.”

“We have waited forty years for this chance, my good man. Forty years! The Tories have controlled Parliament since the wars with America. But the Whigs hold the majority now. Change is what the people want—change and reform. And change is what we shall bring!”

Falconer glanced to where Serafina observed the gentleman with alert and intelligent eyes. He was struck by the painful realization that they would make a fine couple. Serafina was just the sort of exotic and lovely companion that could elevate Sedgwick’s political standing. She was born for such a role.
Not for me. Never for me
.

Falconer had to clear his throat before he could manage, “I am most encouraged by your words and your enthusiasm, sir.”

“I am reminded of something dear Wilberforce told me my first weeks in office. ‘Parliament is rather like Noah’s ark. It contains many beasts and only a few true humans.’” 
Sedgwick lit up at a thought. “I say, perhaps you might allow me to escort you to the viewers’ gallery, where you can see a Parliamentary debate for yourself.”

“Thank you, but no. I have seen more than enough of Westminster already.” Falconer decided to make it easier for them and spoke around the ache in his heart. “But Miss Gavi should have an opportunity to observe this government at work.”

The gentleman brightened immensely. “What an admirable notion! Miss Gavi, would you care to glimpse the inner workings of this great realm?”

She glanced at Falconer with a questioning look. He attempted a smile. Serafina turned back to the gentleman. “You make it sound most appealing, sir.”

“It is, Miss Gavi. Especially now, when reform is finally in the air.” His enthusiasm had a boyish charm, a fresh eagerness that left Falconer feeling aged and decrepit. Sedgwick leaned forward as he strained to convince her. “Just think, we are debating a measure to rid our empire of a wretched evil. Why, you shall see history being made!”

She pondered a moment longer, then said, “I think I should like that very much.”

Falconer had a keen sensation of an invisible fabric tearing. The impression was so strong he thought for a moment he had actually heard the rending. He stood.

Serafina looked up with a question in her eyes.

“Please excuse me for a moment,” Falconer managed to say. “I have remembered there is something I must do. . . .”

He walked to the rear of the house and knocked upon the last door in the hallway. When the voice sounded from within, Falconer entered to find Erica seated beside Gareth’s daybed. Hannah played with the kitten upon the rug by the glowing fire. Falconer smiled at the image. It was reassuring to see such good and noble people enjoying the loving family they deserved.

“My dear friend,” Gareth greeted him. “Join us.”

“I went to the market this morning,” Erica told him. “I found some chocolate that has only just arrived from the islands.”

“It smells like finest perfume,” Hannah said.

“Cook is baking us cakes to have with our tea.”

Falconer shut the door behind him and came to sit in the chair Erica indicated. He looked at each face and then said, “I have come to take my leave.”

No matter how far he might travel or where this road of life might lead, Falconer knew he would carry this moment with him always. How they all looked at him with such sorrow. How they truly cared for him, such that his departure saddened them all. He would hold the image close to his heart like a fire on a frigid night.

“But you can’t!” Hannah cried.

“I must, lass. I must.”

“But who will look after me?”

He knelt upon the carpet beside her and spoke to her as he would an adult. “The lies they have been weaving have been exposed. And I have delivered my broadside. They have little reason to hunt you after this.”

“What of the price on your head?” Erica asked quietly.

“I must risk that and see to my friend’s safety back in Trinidad. I cannot wait any longer.”

“I have been making some efforts in that regard,” Gareth offered. “An official inquiry is about to be launched into the continued slave trafficking within the British realm. And what role a certain banker by the name of Simon Bartholomew might have played. Careful scrutiny will also be given to the action of the Crown’s governor. In the meantime, a royal warrant will be issued which protects one John Falconer from prosecution.”

Hannah’s face was twisted with despair. “You
want
him to leave us?”

“Of course not, my darling. But you knew as well as I that
this day would come. Falconer has responsibilities beyond this family.”

“But he’s my
friend!
” she wailed.

“Aye, that I am,” Falconer solemnly agreed. “And wherever I go, I shall hold you three close in my heart and my prayers.”

Hannah flung her arms around his neck and burst into tears. “I’ll be all alone!”

“Never,” Falconer said, patting the soft hair. “You have a mother and a father to whom you are dear as life itself. You have Daniel. You have Ferdinand, who is growing into the finest cat I have ever seen. And you have a household full of people who would make the best of friends if you asked them.”